In a bid to try and distract herself, she reached for the pile of newspapers and magazines left out by the plane’s staff.
Almost immediately she noticed a picture on the front page of a tabloid magazine. It was Lazaro Sanchez and the red-haired woman who had crashed their engagement party. They were emerging from what looked like a town hall. She was wearing a cream dress and matching jacket, her bright red hair pulled back into a low ponytail, clutching a posy of flowers. He was in a suit and putting out a hand as if to ward off the paparazzi from getting too close. They’d just been married, clearly.
Leonora couldn’t remember him ever looking as intense with her as he did in the photo. She could see the faintest outline of the woman’s pregnancy bump. So he was the father. No wonder he’d married her so quickly. Her name was Skye O’Hara.
Leonora knew she should be feeling something at the sight of her recent almost-fiancé marrying another woman, but all she felt was relief. And a kind of terror to think that she might very well have not had that night with Gabriel which had led to their marriage.
‘What’s that?’
Leonora looked at Gabriel. She handed the magazine across and he took it, taking in the front cover.
He looked back at her, spearing her with those dark eyes. ‘Does this bother you?’
She shook her head. ‘No...actually, not at all.’
Gabriel crumpled up the magazine and tossed it in a nearby bin. Then he reached for Leonora, undoing her seat belt and tugging her all too easily out of her seat and into his lap. She blushed and looked around, but there were no staff.
‘Sanchez’s loss is my gain. He’s a fool.’
Leonora looked down at Gabriel. There was a tone in his voice that made her want to ask if he knew Lazaro Sanchez personally, but before she could he was pulling her head down and pressing hot kisses along her jaw and neck. Her head fell back and every coherent thought was wiped out as the last, lingering effects of their magical honeymoon were continued in the luxurious bedroom of the private plane.
* * *
Almost a week after they’d returned from honeymoon they were having dinner in one of the castillo’s less formal dining rooms.
‘How are you settling in?’ Gabriel asked.
Leonora thought of the way he’d woken her this morning—the way he woke nearly every morning, actually—in a very sensual way that inevitably put her back into a satisfaction-induced coma for a couple of hours while he got up and went to work. She’d never behaved so decadently in her life.
He was watching her closely and she suspected he was even smirking slightly, which helped her not to blush.
Airily, she pretended not to be thinking about sex. ‘Fine, thank you. Ernesto has been very kind. He’s shown me every part of the castillo. Including the vaults where you store the wine that you don’t drink and your family portraits.’
Gabriel took a sip of his sparkling water. ‘The portraits are scary, aren’t they?’
They were. And they were a sober reminder of the sheer weight and extent of Gabriel’s family’s legacy.
Unconsciously she put a hand to her belly, thinking that it would have to be miracle if she hadn’t fallen pregnant on their honeymoon, given that they’d made love every night and every morning. She’d know in about ten days, anyway.
Now she did blush, which she deflected from by asking hurriedly, ‘Why don’t you drink—is it just because of your father?’
Gabriel put his glass down. ‘That, and I don’t like the sensation of not having my wits about me. I once got very drunk when I was a teenager and I never wanted to feel like that again.’
She could understand that. Even though she’d never really been drunk herself, she felt as if she lost her wits every time Gabriel looked at her.
Curious, she asked,
‘Why did you get drunk?’
He looked as if he didn’t want to say anything, but then reluctantly he said, ‘My first lover. She was a bit older than me. I was besotted with her. Until I found her in bed with my best friend.’
Leonora felt her insides plummet. ‘You were in love...once?’
He made a face. ‘Was it love? It was more like an obsession. And even if it was love she merely confirmed for me that it doesn’t exist.’
It was a sign, as if she’d needed one, not to look beyond the physical intimacy of their honeymoon.
She changed the subject and forced a neutral tone into her voice. ‘I saw Matías today. He’s so excited about the football match in a few weeks. Thank you for getting the tickets.’