Page 33 of Modern Romance June 2025 5-8

‘Cerys isn’t the problem, you are,’ his brother remarked, his voice heavy, and not at all like the devil-may-care playboy he presented to the world. ‘Does she even know what she’s getting into with you?’

Santiago felt the question like a blow. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

The delicate melody from a single guitar floated into the vestry, the opening bars of the musical arrangement which had been chosen to accompany his bride’s arrival.

‘Make yourself presentable to represent Cerys, or leave,’ Santiago said. ‘It is your choice.’

Alejandro was still staring at him, tension snapping in the air between them, when Ana dashed into the vestry in thepadrina’s gown she was wearing to represent Santiago in place of their mother. He felt a surge of pride at how grown-up she looked. And how excited.

Even though Cerys’s ability to corral his younger sister had been one of the reasons he had chosen her as his bride, he had been quietly astonished by how enthusiastic Ana had been about the match. And how well behaved she had been in the past three weeks.

‘Cerys is here, and she looks stunning,’ Ana announced, then her head swung between the two of them. ‘What are you two arguing about, because everyone can hear you shouting at each other and it’s embarrassing.’

Shame washed over Santiago, alongside the rush of anticipation. And desire. He just needed to get through this damn ceremony so he could have Cerys to himself again. Thank God, the festivities after the blessing had been performed were only due to last for a few hours.

‘Madre de Dios, Andro, you are a mess.’ Ana rushed over to Alejandro to tie her brother’s cravat. ‘You must go to Cerys and calm her down. She is nervous. As any new bride would be.’

She grinned at Santiago, but the innocent excitement in her eyes made him feel oddly guilty. His sister had insisted on viewing this marriage as a love match—and it had suited his purposes to let her. But now he wondered if his decision not to tell her the real reasons for this union would hurt her when she discovered the truth.

Alejandro batted her hands away. ‘Leave it, I can tie the damn thing myself.’ He sent Santiago a warning look, then flashed the dangerously cynical smile which said he cared about nothing and nobody. It was a smile Santiago had always hated, until this moment. ‘Let’s get this done then.’

Ana sent Santiago a curious look as Alejandro marched out.

‘Whatwereyou two shouting about?’ she asked, her concern making Santiago tense even more. ‘Because it sounded like more than your usual fights about Alejandro’s wicked ways.’

‘Nada,’ he said, determined to forget it.

He had not one thing to feel guilty about. Cerys knew what this marriage offered—and what it did not. She wanted security and he needed stability. And they both enjoyed the sex. Maybe he enjoyed it a bit too much at present, but they would eventually tire of each other, they had to.

The music swelled from the chapel, the guitar joined by a string quartet.

‘Come…’ He folded Ana’s hand over his arm, to lead her into the chapel. ‘We are late.’

‘Yes, Your Excellency,’ Ana said cheekily, but for once he had no desire to reprimand her. Because all his thoughts were on the woman who was about to walk down the aisle towards him.

And finally bring this infernal yearning to an end.

Is this really happening? Why does it feel so wonderful…? And yet also so terrifying.

Cerys’s hand trembled as she held onto the abundant bouquet of roses and orange blossoms the florist had pressed into her hands on her arrival at the old chapel in thecastillo’s grounds.

The romantic music reached a crescendo, lifting the hairs on her neck, as Alejandro appeared by her side and held out his elbow.

‘Are you ready, Cerys?’ he asked gently in Spanish, his usually easy-going smile a little strained.

She nodded, despite the gathering storm of emotions at the prospect of becoming Santiago De Montoya’s wifefor real.

How was it possible she already cared for Santiago so much? A man who, even after three weeks of virtually non-stop intimacy, still seemed like such an enigma.

Maybe it was just the endorphin rush of incredible sex.

Or the way he always managed to make her feel safe.

Late at night, though, as she drifted into an exhausted sleep, his arms holding her so protectively, the dreams had come. Vivid, confusing, terrifying dreams, which always made her feel powerless. And empty and alone.

And then there were the memories which swirled through those dreams, just out of reach—memories which were becoming more vivid every time they appeared.

A woman’s face, the same shape as her own, her voice rich with love but her eyes filled with regret and sadness. A man’s face, his blue-green eyes, so like hers, flat and emotionless and chillingly disapproving. Words on a page in large looping letters which she couldn’t seem to read. And the sense of dread—the feeling that she and Santiago had always been linked. But not in a happy way.

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