Alejandro could not wait any longer—he gathered her to him and rolled them both onto the table. He needed to be inside her with an insistent desperation.
And she needed it too. Her breaths came in excited gasps. Her dark eyes were wide with need. She was on top of him, her skirts high around her hips. He steadied her, helped her to mount him, finding her slick and ready. Then he let her ride.
Passion made them wild. She slid up and down his length, finding her own pleasure, her own rhythm. As his own climax drew closer, he bucked hard against her, lifting his hips and pumping his seed deep into her.
She fell against him, sated. They were both panting, breathless from the intensity of their exertions. He gladly took her weight. They lay together that way for a long time in their recovery; she atop him, he still inside her. Alejandro was reluctant to move even though the wood of the table was uncomfortable against his back.
He had never felt this way with anyone, ever. He didn’t need memories to know that what he had with Elena was rare.
But he wanted them nonetheless.
Chapter Fourteen
Alejandro had not anticipated such vivid images would haunt his sleep after the evening he’d spent with Elena. They’d made love again on the table, this time without their clothes. Elena had been beautiful dressed in nothing but candlelight and elation. They’d finally gotten around to drinking the cava from the delicate goblets Elena had set out earlier. They’d toasted his return and her freedom from the nagging fear of Alicante’s coercive offer. He’d carried her upstairs to their bedroom and they’d made love once more, this time a sweet, slow love redolent of the tranquility descending on them both.
After such activities, a deep untroubled sleep should have been his. But Alejandro woke in a sweat, his pulse hammering from the images. He took deep breaths to steady himself, careful not to wake Elena. Unlike the fleeting image of the carriage when they’d visited the stables, these scenes lasted. He could recall them.
There had been green fields, softly rolling hills and a stone house, not dissimilar to this one. But it wasn’t this one. The surroundings were different, less rough. The image in his mind was less rustic, more refined. There had been laughter and light and people. Two young men and an uncommonly pretty cinnamon-haired girl had been with him. Elena had been there too, the only familiar presence in the warm picture.
Those pleasant images had faded then, replaced by a raging storm. He’d been on a ship, surrounded by screams and faceless men. There’d been fire and then a wet, numbing coldness. That was when he’d woken up.
The second part of his dream was easier to cope with. It might have been a real memory of his last moments on the ship or it might have been his mind creating an image of what Elena had told him about that night.
But he had no idea what the first part meant. He didn’t know the people or the place—only that it wasn’t here. The people met none of the descriptions Elena had given him of his friends in the village. But Elena had been there, providing an anchor for his mind. Perhaps it had been somewhere they had once visited.
“What is it?” Elena stirred beside him and raised herself up on one arm. She pushed a strand of hair back from his face and absently stroked his brow.
“I had a dream. It was of a place I didn’t recognize and people I didn’t know—except you. Then I dreamed about the ship, I think, the night it went down.”
Elena’s stroking stopped for a moment and then resumed. “It was just a dream,” she said softly in the dark, curling up against him. “We’re both safe now and that’s all that matters. The past is not as important as you think.”
Alejandro welcomed the warmth of her body. He could feel her slipping back into sleep. They would wake up together tomorrow in the same manner they’d awakened his first morning home: naked and in each other’s arms. In and of itself that was a rare gift indeed, to be married to someone you loved so completely. Perhaps Elena was right. Perhaps what mattered most wasn’t the past they’d had together but the present and the future they would build together.
***
Elena spent the morning on her knees in the chapel. Her prayer was a short, fervent one: “please don’t let him remember, not yet.” This was followed by rush of penance: “Please forgive me for my deception. There was no other way.”
Everything had gone so well with Don Alicante in spite of his parting threats. Alejandro had been spectacular in her defense, so virile and protective. No champion of old could have done better. She’d been worried when Don Alicante had accused her of trying to defraud him. But Alejandro had been quick in his righteous anger to silence the man’s suspicions.
But it was that righteousness that was at the crux of her guilt this morning. He’d stood up for her because he’d believed she was the wronged party. She was, but not in the way he thought. And she was far from innocent. She’d taken advantage of a man who didn’t know who he was and had filled his head with a false identity by roping him into playing a false role without his consent. Worse, she had done this to a man who loved her, or thought he loved her.
His feelings for her were another tangle. She’d told him he was her husband and she’d given him husbandly rights. But did he love her because he thought he should? Would he have loved her anyway without the trappings of the make-believe world she’d given him?
For her part, Elena knew it would be so easy to love him. It would be easy to pretend their marriage was real. What would it be like to be married to such a man, a man who was devoted to her as a fierce protector, a passionate lover, a partner in the practicalities of life?
Even now he was protecting her, visiting friends in the village and letting everyone know he was home so that Don Alicante couldn’t let unfounded gossip loose in the village.
Elena rose, conscious that she should be more careful with her prayers. After all, she’d gotten what she prayed for—deliverance from Don Alicante. But that deliverance had come with a price she’d not anticipated: her own emotions. She was falling in love with the man she’d deceived into playing her husband.
And after his dreams last night, she was certain his memory was going to return. And when it did, his righteous anger was going to be turned on her.
And then who would protect her? Elena was not fool enough to think the past had been defeated so easily. Alejandro might not have reason to take Don Alicante’s threats seriously, but she did. Now she was fighting on two fronts. She had to fend off Alicante’s impending investigation and she had to prepare herself for a time when Alejandro’s memory returned. She was keenly reminded of the old war adage—win the battle, lose the war. It was clear that she wasn’t out of the woods yet.
Chapter Fifteen
At times, she couldn’t decide what was worse: facing the next potential obstacle immediately, head on, or the waiting and wondering if the threat would ever materialize. Alejandro continued to dream at night, but so far the dreams had not led to his retrieval of any memories. She hadn’t had any word from Don Alicante, but she knew the vengeful don had made at least one trip into Santiago de Compostela and had men scour the coastal villages looking for clues. He was building his case, looking for evidence. All she could do was pray he didn’t find any.
Meanwhile, their lives fell into a pleasant routine and Elena found it increasingly easier to push away the dark clouds that hovered on the rim of their paradise. She could almost forget that it hadn’t been any other way. Days became weeks. April became May and then June. Her guilt over what she’d done to keep the pazo safe from Don Alicante weighed less heavily on her mind.
Watching Alejandro embrace his life, she could almost justify her decision. He was happy. Alejandro became absorbed in his life a pazo owner. He reacquainted himself with friends in the village, although he said he found them too self-centered for him these days. He enjoyed his work and he was highly competent at it. The fields were growing. The buildings were in good repair. The grapes were thriving on the vine.
Their relationship was thriving as
well. The eagerness of his lovemaking had not faded with familiarity but instead had grown as their comfort with each other had increased. She would never tire of waking up beside him to begin her day or falling asleep next to him, safe in his arms, as the day ended. She’d fallen shamelessly in love with him as she had feared she might.
But loving him was dangerous, as she couldn’t predict the future. Just how mad would he be when he remembered who he really was? Would he understand her motives and forgive her? Would he walk away and never look back?
She supposed she could tell him the truth now. But that would mean destroying the little bit of paradise she’d managed to eke out for herself. She’d never been as happy as she was in his arms. Telling him would destroy that and endanger the very security that she’d deceived him to protect. She wasn’t ready for that, not yet. She was entitled to her peace. And so she waited, opting to treasure each day of happiness while it lasted.
***
Alejandro reined in his stallion near a row of grapes in the vineyard. He bent to check a cluster, turning it all around, looking for any damage. The cluster looked healthy, but a dry summer would ensure a good harvest this fall and several barrels of the regional white wine in the bodega beneath the house.
Alejandro turned his horse around and caught a look at the exquisite vista of the village and sea below him. The pazo’s vineyards were located on a hillside and the view below him was breathtaking. He steadied his horse and took a moment to appreciate what he saw. An assortment of fishing boats bobbed at their moorings. The town square looked colorful and busy. The little white stone church gleamed in the sunlight. On a cliff across the village, the lighthouse stood tall and ready to warn sailors away from the deceptive coastline full of hidden dangers.
Everything looked so peaceful today, it was hard to believe the lighthouse was needed. But he knew firsthand how quickly the weather along the coast changed.
Alejandro ran a hand through his long hair. He wished he remembered that night. He’d had more dreams over the last month, all of them featuring the dark night his ship had gone down. But despite the frequency of his dreams, he still could not remember. It was the only blight on his horizon.
It was a selfish wish. But if he had his memory he might know why he’d left Elena and not done anything to let her know he was well and safe after the first ship had gone down. She seemed reluctant to talk about their marriage and he was so happy with their relationship at present, he didn’t want to risk marring it by dredging up trouble. Perhaps such a choice was cowardly—but he was a man desperately in love with his wife and a boat can only be rocked so much before it finally tips over.
Regardless of what was the right choice to make, tonight would not be the night to bring up bygones. Tonight, he was escorting Elena to the celebration of St. Isidore, the patron saint of farmers. In the village, there would be dancing and feasting. Elena had been excited over the prospect.
Out in the little harbor, a ship was coming in around the headlands. No doubt it held people coming from a neighboring village for the celebrations.
With a farmer’s concern, Alejandro lifted his face to the sky. It was clear and blue today with only the most useful and pleasant of breezes. The evening would be perfect for dancing with one’s wife beneath the stars and celebrating the bounty of life. Oh how he wanted to celebrate that! His life was the fullest a man could ask for: an adoring wife, the gratification of turning his hand to the soil for the success of his estate, the means to live comfortably doing what he loved. Sure, some of the pieces didn’t fit perfectly, some pieces of his life were forced and other pieces were obscured by his frustrating memory loss. But really, no one’s life was perfect. He knew no man should ask for more.
Chapter Sixteen
The festivities were well under way by the time Alejandro and Elena arrived. The village square was lit with colorful paper lanterns and a large wooden platform had been set up for dancing. Long tables for food were set up outside the taverna. Everyone was dressed in their best and in high spirits. Tonight was a night for merriment, a chance to forget about the troubles of daily life for a few magical hours.
“It’s beautiful,” Elena exclaimed. “It seems like ages since I’ve come to a festival in town.”
Alejandro studied her for an awkward moment. “Didn’t we come in the past?” he asked quietly. There was relatively little to do in the way of social life in the village and even less if you were slightly isolated like they were, living a bit beyond the villages and self-contained on the pazo. He couldn’t imagine not participating with the other locals whenever they could.
Elena shook her head. “No, not after the first couple years we were married.” She rushed on. "But you were busy. There was business to look after and you were often gone to Santiago di Compostela. Making business connections and building our little fortune was important to you. It took a lot of your time. There is no sin in hard work.”
“But it is a sin to neglect my wife.” Alejandro felt the familiar twinge of regret. He’d not been the best husband and he still didn’t know why. Still, he couldn’t have been the worst husband. She had saved his life, after all, and had seemed glad to have him back. Certainly, she’d welcomed the passion they shared. Those were not the behaviors of a woman who had hoped her husband was dead.
“It will not happen again, Elena.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. He spoke his thoughts out loud. “Maybe it was an honest, well-meant mistake to put the pursuit of money over our marriage. But it was a mistake, nonetheless. Perhaps my brush with death has realigned my priorities into the correct order this time.”
She favored him with a tentative smile, a shadow in her eyes where her delight over the evening had been. “I am sorry, Elena. I’ve made you sad. I didn’t mean to.”
“You could never make me sad. You’re all I’ve ever hoped for,” she said in a quiet voice just for him.
Alejandro suddenly wished they were alone—back at the pazo, back in their bed—the very same bed that had delayed their arrival at the party. Desire surged within him. He was hungry for her again. Already. But there was no question of leaving when they’d barely arrived and several of their acquaintances in town had noticed them. So Alejandro did the next best thing—if he couldn’t make love to her, he’d dance with her. Alejandro drew her onto the wooden platform and swung Elena into a rowdy country dance.
They whirled through dance after dance, giddy with the excitement of the evening and the brilliance of their love. Elena was all spirit and fire in his arms, her cheeks flushed, her hair loose, her body warm where it met his. When they were old, he wanted to remember this moment, this night, Elena beautiful and free in his arms. And he wanted to remember how powerful he felt because this woman loved him.
Their enjoyment had not gone unnoticed. At one point, the platform had cleared and they’d danced alone, a fiery tango that pleased the villagers—Elena’s performance especially. They received raucous applause from the onlookers and an impromptu toast. “To Alejandro and Elena!” a cry resonated throughout the square.
Alejandro helped Elena down from the platform. They wound their way towards the refreshment tables, feted by the crowd. Men slapped him on the back, congratulating him. Whatever had happened in the privacy of his marriage, he was a well-liked figure among the village men. It felt good to be welcomed home, as if this was the final seal of approval he needed to be fully accepted back into the life he’d abandoned, accidentally or not.
He bent to steal a kiss from Elena but a loud voice caught his attention. He looked up to find the source of the commotion—it was Don Alicante. His shouts cut above the din of the crowd. “There he is. That’s the man who claims to be Alejandro di Duero.”
Don Alicante pushed through the crowd, followed by a stocky man dressed plainly in sturdy traveling clothes. Alejandro felt Elena’s grip on his arm tighten. Instinctively he moved her behind him. He squared his shoulders and planted his feet, arms folded across his chest. “W
hat do you want?”
The crowd was silent now, eagerly watching the unfolding drama. They circled the three men, waiting. Whatever Don Alicante thought he was going to do, Alejandro thought he must be quite sure of himself to do it so publicly.
Alejandro mentally prepared himself. Whatever Don Alicante might reveal, he must be careful not to accept it as truth. Alicante was motivated solely out of revenge; whatever came from his mouth would be designed to hurt and destroy. Alejandro would not let that happen. He’d failed to protect Elena from this man once before. He would not fail to do so again.
“This man claims to know you under another name,” Alicante boldly asserted, a smug look of satisfaction on his face. Quiet whispers rippled through the crowd.
The stocky man had come up to stand next to Alicante. Alejandro noted the man wore an expression of wariness, of caution. He didn’t trust Alicante any more than Alejandro did. Good. Alejandro could work with that.
“I am looking for a man who bears some resemblance to you,” the man said cautiously. “I am Patrick Flaherty from London.”
Alejandro held the man’s gaze, assessing him. He sensed the man held something back. He had not mentioned the name of whoever he sought. But the mention of London was enough to put Alejandro on full alert and perhaps the man had meant it that way—as a subtle clue.
Alejandro had recognized early in his recovery that the sound of his voice was different than that of the other villagers. Elena had not been concerned about it, explaining that he may have spent time with Englishmen during his absence. At the time such an answer seemed plausible. Now, it seemed doubly so if a man from London was looking for him.
Alejandro decided to play the expansive host. He spread his arms wide in a gesture of hospitality. “Do I have a long lost brother?” The crowd laughed and the tension Don Alicante had created receded. Excellent. He wanted to separate this Patrick Flaherty from the crowd. He wanted to get him alone where the man could reveal his message in private.
Grayson Prentiss's Seduction Page 5