About the Author
New York Times bestselling author MAISEY YATESlives in rural Oregon with her three children and her husband, whose chiselled jaw and arresting features continue to make her swoon. She feels the epic trek she takes several times a day from her office to her coffee maker is a true example of her pioneer spirit.
The Spaniard’s Pregnant Bride
Maisey Yates
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-04428-8
THE SPANIARD’S PREGNANT BRIDE
© 2016 Maisey Yates
Published in Great Britain 2020
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk
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Table of Contents
Cover
About the Author
Title Page
Copyright
Note to Readers
Back Cover Text
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EPILOGUE
About the Publisher
“You’ll be mine. You’ll be my wife.”
With her identity concealed, Allegra Valenti enters Italy’s most glorious masquerade ball determined to make happy memories to sustain her through her impending coldly arranged betrothal. But a passionate encounter with a masked stranger has consequences that tear apart her dutiful life.
Brooding Spanish duke Cristian Acosta cannot believe the masked siren he let his guard down for was his best friend’s sister—the pampered heiress he grew up despising. To safeguard the Acosta legacy, Cristian must adorn Allegra with a trinket of his own—a gold wedding band!
To everyone who said “You shouldn’t” and “You can’t” you gave me a reason to prove that I should, and I could.
HE WAS DEATH come to take her away. At least, that was what he looked like as he descended the sweeping stairs of the Venetian ballroom, his black cloak billowing behind him, his blunt fingertips brushing the elegant marble banister. Allegra felt it like a touch against her skin, and for the rest of her life she would wonder at the strength of it.
He was masked, like everyone else in attendance, but that was where the similarity between him and anyone else—or indeed, him and any mortal—ended.
He was not wearing the bright silks of many of the men there, rather he was dressed all in black. The mask that covered his face was of some sort of glittering midnight material, cut into the shape of a skull. His skin must have been painted a deep charcoal beneath it, because she could catch no sight of man or even a trace of humanity in the small spaces between the intricately fashioned metal.
She wasn’t the only woman to be struck dumb by his appearance—a ripple ran through the room. Resplendent, silk-wrapped creatures were all quivering in anticipation of a look, a glance. Allegra was no exception. Her identity hidden behind the beautiful painted designs on her face, she allowed herself the indulgence to look at him.
The party, being held in one of the most beautiful and historic hotels in Venice, was hosted by one of her brother’s business associates. It was one of the most sought-after invitations in the world, and those attending were the elite.
Italy’s oldest, wealthiest families. Old money and new. Eligible heiresses who held whole rooms captive with a saucy glance.
She supposed she was part of them. Her father was old money and new. Nobility with a lineage that could be traced back to the Renaissance. But unlike his father before him, he’d taken that position and spun it into gold. Had taken crumbling, inherited properties and reinvigorated them as his business, pushing him to the height of the social and financial stratosphere.
Her brother, Renzo, had only brought the Valenti family higher, taking her father’s company global and increasing their wealth by leaps and bounds.
Still, Allegra didn’t feel like she was one of these women. Didn’t feel seductive or vibrant. She felt...caged.
But this was supposed to be her chance. Her chance to lose her virginity to a man that she chose, rather than to the prince that she was promised to marry, who did nothing to heat her blood or fire her imagination.
Perhaps such a sin would send Allegra straight to hell. Though, who better to take her there than the devil himself? He was here, after all. And with his entrance into the room he had affected her more deeply, more profoundly, than her arranged fiancé ever had.
She started to take a step toward the staircase, and then stopped. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought she might be sick. Who did she think she was? She was not the kind of woman to approach a strange man at a party.
To approach him and flirt and ask him to—
She had no idea what she’d been thinking.
Allegra turned away from the stranger. She wasn’t going to court Death at this party, in all the ways that term applied. Yes, she had the fantasy that she might find someone tonight. Someone she wanted. But when push came to shove, she simply didn’t have the courage.
Anyway, her brother had brought her to this party under sufferance, and if she caused any trouble, he would probably burn the place to the ground. Renzo Valenti was not known for his quiet temperament. Allegra, however, had learned to curb hers.
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