The Spanish Duke's Virgin Bride Read Free Page B

fourth side the wall was lower and the bricks were old and crumbling.
    The dog was almost on her. She could hear the harsh rasp of its breath coming closer, could imagine its sharp teeth sinking into her flesh. Frantically she shot down another path, and with a speed born of desperation began to scale the old wall. The loose brickwork gave her several footholds, and, using all her strength, Grace heaved herself towards the top.
    She was safe now, she reassured herself. The dog was below her, barking furiously, but with luck she would be able to clamber over the wall to safety. With one final glance at the savage animal, she hooked one leg over the top of the wall and let out a scream. Beyond the wall the land fell away in a sheer drop of several hundred feet. If she threw herself over she would almost certainly be killed. Her only alternative was to scramble back down to the garden where the slavering dog was waiting.
    In the event Grace did nothing. Paralysed with fear, she balanced on the top of the wall and watched the man approach.
    â€˜Easy, Luca.’ Javier strolled unhurriedly towards the end of the garden and called his dog to heel. Above him the woman—or girl, he amended with a brief glance upwards—was clinging to the top of the wall as if her life depended on it. Every ounce of colour had leached from her face, which was dominated by huge, fear-filled eyes.
    Javier felt not the slightest hint of sympathy. She could sit up there all day for all he cared, he thought grimly. He was sick to death of the damn paparazzi tailing his every move. It was bad enough in the city, where they sat in their cars outside his office hoping to snap him, or collected in droves at the popular nightspots, determined to catch him with his latest mistress. The discovery of a journalist in the grounds of the castle was the final insult on what was undoubtedly the worst day of his life.
    â€˜How did you get in here?’ he demanded impatiently. ‘And what do you want?’ He couldn’t see a camera—maybe she’d dropped it when she’d fled from Luca. She must have been scared witless to scramble up the wall as fast as she had, and admittedly the dog did look ferocious, he acknowledged as he attached the chain he was holding to Luca’s collar.
    The girl remained silent and Javier’s jaw tightened. He was not in the mood to play games, and he wanted her off his land. ‘Climb down; the dog’s leashed and won’t hurt you.’ Still no response. His eyes narrowed as he studied her pale skin. Her hair was hidden beneath some kind of shawl that she had wrapped around her shoulders and head so that it formed a hood. But instinct told him she wasn’t Spanish, and he repeated his request in English, which tended to be a universal form of communication.
    The silence stretched between them before she eventually spoke. ‘I can’t.’ Grace’s voice was little more than a whisper. The knowledge that she could topple off the wall and plunge down the sheer side of the mountain was so terrifying that her throat had closed up. She couldn’t move, could barely breath, and her head felt as though it was spinning.
    â€˜ Señorita , you must come down.’ The edge of urgency in the man’s voice penetrated the fear clouding Grace’s brain, and she turned her head cautiously to stare down at him.
    Muttering a savage oath, Javier quickly scanned the wall. It would be relatively easy for him to climb up and rescue her, but fear was an unpredictable emotion. He judged that she was close to passing out, and if she edged away from him she was likely to tumble over the edge onto the jagged rocks on the other side of the wall.
    Stifling his impatience, he softened his voice. ‘You have no need to be afraid. I won’t hurt you, and neither will the dog. Let go and I’ll catch you,’ he added sharply when she swayed. Her skin was grey now, her eyes closed, and