The Wedding Ultimatum. HELEN BIANCHIN

the wedding itself.

      Soon after signing the marriage certificate, Rafe Valdez would attach his signature to an affidavit authorising payment of all Ariane’s debts and the restoration of her previously sold assets.

      Wealth was equated with power, and he’d used it ruthlessly to achieve his objective.

      Danielle extended her hand for him to slip the wedding ring onto her finger, and her own hand shook slightly as she returned the tradition.

      ‘You may kiss the bride.’

      She heard the words, experienced momentary panic as the man at her side cupped her face and covered her lips with his own in an evocative open-mouthed kiss that tugged at something deep inside.

      Surprise caused her eyes to widen momentarily before she quickly lowered her lashes, forcing a smile as she accepted the celebrant’s voiced congratulations, closely duplicated by Ariane and Rafe’s lawyer.

      Ariane’s hug conveyed maternal concern. The words had all been said, and it lent much to Danielle’s resolve that she’d managed to convince her mother that her decision to become Rafe Valdez’s wife was not born out of capricious insanity!

      Now, however, she wasn’t so confident.

      Bankruptcy had been averted, a considerable debt wiped, and precious d’Alboa possessions restored. All for a price.

      One she was about to begin to pay for.

      The man who stood at her side was an unknown quantity. Yet before the night was over she’d share her body with his and engage in the most intimate of physical acts.

      The knowledge ate at her equilibrium and almost brought her undone.

      During the past week she had seen him once, and that had been in his lawyer’s office when she’d attached her signature to the pre-nuptial agreement.

      One contact had been made by telephone, informing her of the date, time and place their marriage would take place.

      This morning her clothes and personal possessions had been transported to his home, and less than an hour ago she’d driven her small sedan through the tall gates guarding his elegant mansion and entered the spacious lobby with Ariane at her side, where they were greeted by Rafe, introduced to his housekeeper, Elena, and then taken upstairs to an elegant suite.

      Attired as she was in a classically styled suit of ivory silk, the only concession towards bride was a single ivory rosebud she held in one hand. Her hair was swept up into a smooth twist, and she wore minimum make-up.

      Rafe had chosen formal attire, and she’d taken one look at him, noted the impeccable tailoring, the crisp white shirt, and suppressed the momentary urge to flee.

      He had the look of an indolent predator, all darkly coiled strength and indomitable power. Enhanced by a tall frame and an impressive breadth of shoulder. Together with an intrinsic quality that was elemental, primitive.

      The celebrant handed Rafe the marriage certificate, offered the customary pleasantries, then left.

      There was champagne, and Danielle sipped the sparkling liquid, aware of its potential potency, given that she’d eaten a token slice of toast for breakfast and picked at a salad for lunch.

      It seemed superfluous, even hypocritical, to have Rafe’s lawyer propose a toast to their union, and a proffered tray of hors d’oeuvres did nothing to tempt her appetite.

      Rafe’s gaze narrowed as he caught a flicker of concern chase across Ariane’s features, and he selected a bite-size portion and deliberately fed it to the woman who now bore his name.

      He watched as flecks of gold fire sparked in those dark brown eyes, and for a moment he thought she’d refuse. Certain, had they been alone, that she would have.

      The lawyer murmured words Danielle didn’t catch, and Rafe placed his champagne flute down on a nearby table. ‘If you’ll join me in the study for a few minutes?’

      An affidavit requiring his signature following the marriage. Their agreement was a done deal. All she had to do was deliver…on a very intimate level, and gift him a child.

      She felt her stomach twist into a painful knot. There was no room for second thoughts.

      Both Ariane and the lawyer took their leave at the same time, and Danielle watched the small sedan ease down the driveway, followed by the lawyer’s late-model BMW.

      Rafe turned back towards the lobby, and Danielle followed.

      ‘The master bedroom is upstairs overlooking the gardens and pool, if you want to freshen up.’ He indicated the wide curving staircase leading to the upper floor. ‘Elena will have unpacked your clothes.’ He pulled back a cuff. ‘Dinner will be served in half an hour.’

      She took it as a dismissal, and was relieved when he turned and retraced his steps to the study.

      The Spanish influence was much in evidence, Danielle noted as she made her way towards the staircase.

      Pale cream marble-tiled floors patterned and edged with a combination of dark grey, black and a heavy forest-green. Mahogany cabinets hugged the wall space, large urns stood atop marble stands, and original artwork graced the cream walls.

      High ceilings in the spacious lobby were offset by an elegant crystal chandelier suspended above an ornate water fountain. A wide balustraded staircase led to the upper floor.

      Guest rooms each with an en suite, Danielle determined, a comfortable sitting-room, and there was no mistaking the large master bedroom. His-and-her walk-in wardrobes, a large en suite containing luxurious fittings and a spa-bath.

      Her toiletries and make-up were neatly positioned at one end of the long marble vanity, her clothing and shoes rested in one of the spacious walk-in wardrobes, and the many drawers held her underwear and lingerie.

      She let her gaze skim over the room, noting the pleasing neutral colour scheme in cream and ivory, offset by an abundance of low-and high-set mahogany cabinets, a mirrored dressing-table.

      It was impossible not to have her gaze linger on the king-size bed with its heavy quilted spread. Equally difficult to ignore the nervous tension curling painfully in the region of her stomach.

      Get a grip, she admonished silently. Rafe Valdez is a man like any other.

      However, the prospect of having sex with a man she hardly knew, even within the bounds of marriage, wasn’t in her comfort zone.

      Yet all she had to do was occupy his bed, and allow him to fuse his body with her own. Maybe if she fell pregnant quickly, he’d leave her alone.

      She drew a deep breath and averted her attention from the bed. Maybe she should change? Yet it seemed doubtful Rafe would exchange his suit for something less formal, unless, she determined with a quick glance at her watch, he chose to do so within the next few minutes.

      ‘I imagine you’ve had time to acquaint yourself with the layout,’ a deep voice drawled from the doorway, and she turned slowly towards him.

      His jacket was hooked over one shoulder, and he’d loosened his tie. He looked dark and dangerous, his breadth of shoulder impressive without the emphasis of superb tailoring.

      ‘You have a beautiful house.’ She couldn’t for the life of her call it home.

      ‘Gracias.’ His gaze raked her slender curves. ‘Dinner is almost ready.’

      She made an instant decision. ‘I’ll only be a few minutes.’ With smooth movements she entered her walk-in wardrobe, selected a dress at random, then hastily exchanged the ivory suit for a red shift, cinched a gilt belt at her waist, touched up her lipstick, then emerged into the bedroom.

      Rafe was waiting for her, and she met his brooding scrutiny with equanimity, then preceded him from the room.

      Calm, poise. She possessed the social skills to employ both, and she slipped into the familiar role as he seated her at the dining-room table.