Pride swelled in his narrow chest for the man he acknowledged as his son. There was no doubt Chris and his novia would beget magnificent children, the grandchildren he would never see or hold in his arms. Grandchildren who would carry on his family’s name.
A hint of a smile played at the corners of Alejandro’s mouth. “My son has chosen well. You are perfect.”
An unwelcome blush swept over Emily’s face with the compliment. The strong, masculine voice belied the older man’s frail appearance. Her lashes lowered over her eyes in a demure gesture.
“Thank you…” Her words trailed off. She did not know how to address the elder Delgado. She gave Chris a beseeching look.
It was Chris’s turn for words to die on his tongue. He could not address Alejandro as “dad.” That title had been reserved exclusively for Matthew Sterling.
“Father, I’d like you to meet Emily Kirkland. Emily, Alejandro Delgado.”
Extending a shaky hand, Alejandro grasped her fingers. Despite his fragile appearance, his handshake was firm. “There’s no need to thank me. I merely state the truth.”
Leaning forward, she pressed a light kiss on his cheek. “I’m honored to meet you. May I call you Father?”
Attractive lines fanned out around Alejandro’s eyes. “With your face, you can call me anything you wish.”
“Have you no shame, Alejandro?” Sonia chided softly as she stepped out onto the loggia. “Flirting with your future daughter-in-law.”
Emily did not hear Alejandro’s response because her complete attention was focused on Chris, who returned her penetrating gaze. It was one thing to attempt to mislead his aunt, but she did not want to be a party to blatant deception. It had not mattered what Alejandro had done in the past, but he deserved more than to be lied to as he counted down the days, hours and minutes of his life.
The seconds became a full minute as their questioning gazes fused and held. It was only when Sonia said that it was time to sit and eat that their soporific trance ended. They flanked Alejandro, leading him to the table. Chris helped him to sit in a chair with arms, then circled the table to pull out a chair for his aunt, then repeated the motion for Emily.
A secretive smile softened Sonia’s crimson lips. Her instincts had been right when she sought to solicit Emelia’s help to bring Alejandro and Cristobal together. It was apparent that her nephew was passionately in love with his novia. Whenever he and Emelia shared the same space, Sonia recognized the smoldering flame of desire in his midnight gaze. And it was also obvious that she had charmed his father.
Placing a cloth napkin over her lap, Sonia bowed her head, crossed herself and said grace.
Chapter 16
Chris took surreptitious glances at Alejandro, who was struggling to feed himself. He’d gripped the handle of the spoon like a small child as he tried to steady it. Most of the broth spilled back into his bowl before he was able to bring it to his mouth.
A wave of pity swept over him. He’s dying, and he’s my father. The realization nearly choked him, not permitting him to swallow his own soup. What had happened thirty-two years ago was in the past. He had to deal with today, and reality was that he had reunited with his biological father, although he knew the reunion would not be a long or lasting one. The man his mother told him about was not the same one she’d remembered. The Alejandro Delgado Eve knew had used his social status, wealth and diplomatic immunity as an attaché with the Mexican Embassy in Washington, D.C., to abduct his only child. Living in exile had left him a broken man.
Curving an arm around his father’s thin shoulders, Chris eased the spoon from the unsteady hand. “Let me help you, Daddy,” he whispered close to his ear.
Alejandro went completely still, his eyes filling with moisture. It was the second time that day that his son had brought him to tears. He hadn’t been called Daddy in thirty-two years. Closing his eyes, he attempted to stem the hot rush of tears, but he was unsuccessful. They streamed down his face, staining his cheeks and shirt.
Chris reached into a pocket of his slacks, withdrew a handkerchief, and blotted his father’s face. “I don’t think the soup needs any more salt,” he teased softly.
Nodding, Alejandro affected a trembling smile. “You’re right.”
The sight of the helpless man struck a chord so deep within Chris that he leaned closer and brushed a kiss across Alejandro’s forehead. The gesture was gentle and tender. Emily and Sonia stared in stunned silence, their soup spoons poised in midair.
The strained moment passed once the two women exchanged knowing looks. There was no need for them to interfere. It was apparent that father and son had established their own truce.
Chris patiently fed Alejandro, ignoring his own food as he alternated spooning food into Alejandro’s mouth with wiping away minute pieces of shredded chicken that hadn’t found their way between his parted lips.
“Excelente, Sonia,” Alejandro stated, after he’d swallowed the last spoonful of the savory chicken soup. “You’ve surpassed Mama.”
His sister beamed from the compliment. “Gracias. Cristobal will be a lucky man, because I’m going to give Emelia all our family recipes. The glorious foods will live on for another generation of Delgados.”
Chris’s head came up slowly and he stared across the table at the woman he’d fallen in love with. His aunt was talking about another generation of Delgados. It was up to him to carry on the name and the family traditions. But that would only be possible if he married and produced children.
His mercurial black eyes bore into the green ones staring back at him. The harder he tried ignoring the truth, the more it persisted. Emily Kirkland was the only woman he had opened himself and his heart to. She was the only woman he had confessed to loving and the only woman he wanted to share his life and his future with.
Thick black lashes came down and shadowed his gaze from the others at the table. It suddenly hit Chris that the last two surviving Delgado men were engaged in a race against time: Alejandro for his life, and he to become governor of New Mexico.
Leaning to his left, his shoulder pressing against Alejandro’s, Chris whispered in his ear. His father’s expression did not change as he nodded in agreement.
Alejandro pointed to the empty wineglass at his place setting. “Would someone please pour me a glass of wine?”
Sonia shook her head. “You know you’re not permitted to drink.”
He glared at his sister. “Then why is there a glass next to my plate?”
Emily felt a rush of heat in her face. She hadn’t realized and had put out four wineglasses. “I set the table.”
Placing his hand over his son’s, he said softly, “Please serve me. It will help me to sleep.”
His sister was right. He wasn’t permitted to drink alcoholic beverages, but what did that matter? What would it do? Kill him? It didn’t matter; he was dying. Once Sonia told him that she had contacted his son, he’d begun to pray—pray that he would not die until he saw Christopher’s face once more. And now that he’d seen his son again he welcomed death.
He’d waited two days after his sister had informed him that she had contacted Christopher; then he notified his attorney. The lawyer had come to see him as he was experiencing the most excruciating pain since he’d been diagnosed with leukemia. He forbade the doctor to medicate him because he’d wanted to be of sound mind when he revised his will. The doctor and Sonia signed the legal document as witnesses; then he instructed the doctor to fill his veins with the powerful narcotic. Within seconds he’d lapsed into a deep, painless sleep that lasted nearly sixteen hours. When he awoke to bright sunlight pouring into his window, he’d offered a prayer of thanks that he’d been spared another sunrise.
His son had come to Mexico filled with anger, resentment and bitterness, but still he had come. Nothing Alejandr
o could say would reverse the pain and suffering he had inflicted on his wife and son, but he planned to make up for it—after his death.
Deliberately ignoring Sonia’s scowl, Chris picked up the pitcher and half filled the glass with fruity wine. He held the glass to Alejandro’s mouth and he took small sips, savoring each swallow.
Sonia served Alejandro a small portion of rice and fried bananas, letting out her breath in a sigh of relief after he chewed and swallowed the forkful Chris fed him. It had been a long time since he had been able to ingest solid foods. Satisfaction came into her eyes. Emelia had called her a meddler, but that no longer mattered. Her meddling would now allow her brother to die in peace.
The brilliant orange rays of the setting sun competed with the golden light spilling from the lanterns placed along the loggia. Nocturnal sounds were amplified with the onset of nightfall, and all conversation around the table ceased as the diners paused to listen to nature’s unrehearsed symphony.
Feeling the calming effects from a glass of sangria, Emily leaned back in her chair. The piquant spices and refreshing blend of wine and fruit juices lingered on her tongue. A warm breeze caressed her bared flesh, bringing with it the lingering scent of salt water.
She stared at Chris through half-lowered lids, a slight smile softening her lush mouth. He gestured with one hand, while the other rested on the back of Alejandro’s chair. Closing her eyes, she was content to listen to the musical sounds of the Spanish language punctuating the stillness of the warm tropical night. It wasn’t until she felt a gentle shake that she realized she’d fallen asleep.
“Wake up, baby.”
Stretching like a cat, a sensual smile parting her lips, Emily leaned forward and brushed her mouth over Chris’s when he hunkered down beside her chair. His warmth and the scent of his clean-smelling cologne swirled around her like a cloaking mist.
“How long have I been asleep?” Her contralto voice had lowered half an octave.
He gathered her from the chair, swinging her up in his arms as if she weighed no more than a child. “Not long.”
She glanced over his shoulder. “Where are your aunt and your father?”
“They’ve both retired for the night.”
Curving her arms around his strong neck, Emily rested her head on his shoulder. “Your father is a very charming man.”
Chris snorted under his breath. “He’s a manipulative scoundrel who makes no attempt to conceal it.”
“He’s still charming.”
Chris chuckled deep in his throat. “He’s charming because you’re a beautiful woman. And Alejandro Delgado could never resist a beautiful woman.”
“That’s obvious, he did marry your mother, after all.”
Emily was right. Even at sixty-six, Eve Sterling was still stunningly beautiful. He’d noticed the gazes of men half his mother’s age follow her whenever she walked into a room.
Tightening his grip under Emily’s knees, Chris pushed open the door with his shoulder, let it close behind him, then made his way up the staircase to the second floor. Her moist breath feathered over his throat, reminding him of the times she’d lain over his chest after a passionate session of lovemaking. She had a habit of crawling atop him until she fell asleep. One or two times she’d managed to spend the entire night with her breasts pressed to his chest, her legs cradled inside his.
He walked the length of the hallway and entered her bedroom. Bending slightly, he lowered her feet to the floor, one arm clasped tightly around her waist. Reaching up, his hands moved to cradle her face, his velvet gaze caressing her face.
“I love you, Emily Teresa Kirkland, and I want you to marry me.” She closed her eyes, swaying slightly. She whispered his name, her body stiffening in surprise. Gathering her closer, Chris pulled her against his chest. “Marry me before we go back to the States.” The strong, measured beating of his heart kept tempo with her own.
She wanted to feel joy, but all she felt was fear and confusion because everything was happening too quickly. He had come to her on December 29 professing his love for her, and twelve days later he was proposing marriage.
Anchoring her hands against his chest, Emily backed out of his embrace, shaking her head.
“It’s not going to work, Chris.” Her voice vibrated with uncertainty. “We can’t marry, then go back to New Mexico—”
“We won’t tell anyone,” he said, interrupting her.
Her gaze widened. “You want me to live a lie?”
“It won’t be a lie if no one asks. We’ll wait until after the election, then make the announcement that we’re husband and wife.” Closing the space between them, he pulled her against the length of his solid frame. “I’ve loved you for so long that I can’t even remember when I didn’t love you.” His dark eyes smoldered. “We should’ve married years ago.”
Reaching up, Emily looped her bare arms around his neck. “We’ve waited this long, why not another year?”
“I don’t want to wait another year.” Realizing he’d come off sounding like a self-indulgent lout, he said quickly, “I can’t wait another year, Emily. We don’t have a year.”
She went completely still in his protective embrace. “What are you talking about?”
“He’s dying, baby. He won’t last long enough to see us married. Which means he’ll never get to see or hold his grandchildren. I still think he’s a son of a bitch for what he did to my mother, but nothing I can say or do to him can change the past. I have to deal not only with now, but right now.”
“You’ve forgiven him?”
“It’s not about forgiveness, but about making certain his last days on earth are not spent in pain. And it’s also about allowing him to die in peace. He wants to see us married.”
Emily’s mind was in turmoil. She loved Chris, wanted to marry him, yet she wanted it on their own terms. She did not want someone else dictating when, where and why they should exchange vows.
“He’s manipulating us.”
“That’s because he’s a manipulator.”
“You don’t care?”
A deep laugh rumbled in his chest. “I care, baby. I care a lot. However, it’s not about Alejandro Delgado’s manipulation. It’s about how I feel about you. Even before I slept with you I knew I wanted you as my wife.” Lowering his head, he placed a kiss under her ear. “I want you to have my babies. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Emily, and I want to be in your arms when it comes time for me to draw my last breath. I’m—”
Emily placed her fingertips over his lips, stopping his impassioned plea. “Don’t, Chris. Please don’t talk about dying. Death is in this house—all around us.”
Capturing her wrist, he pulled her hand away from his mouth. “Marry me, Emily. Tomorrow!”
Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “I want to be married in a church.”
“Alejandro said we can use the chapel.”
“I want to be married by a priest.”
“He will call a priest.”
“I want my family with me,” she continued, as if Chris hadn’t spoken.
“We’ll have family. My aunt and my father will be our witnesses.”
Emily opened her mouth to counter his offer, but the words died on her tongue. She knew he was right. Everything she wanted for her wedding was right here: chapel, priest and family—Chris’s family. And if she married him, they would also become her family.
“Can we do this, Chris?”
He stared down into her eyes, seeing a glazed look of despair shimmering in the green orbs. “Yes, we can, baby.” Lowering his chin slightly, he flashed a sensual smile. “I’ll make it up to you after the election. We can renew our vows with a big formal wedding and everything that goes with it, then honeymoon in any city or country that you cho
ose.”
A dying man was manipulating them. A man who had been exiled from his home for over thirty years had returned. And because he was a Delgado-Quintero, he still wielded enough influence to persuade a priest to marry his son without the customary posting of banns.
All she had to do was open her mouth and say yes, and within hours she would become Señora Emelia Delgado-Quintero. Hot tears welled up in her eyes, turning them into pools of sparkling peridot.
She was losing control—control of herself and her life. She was on a runaway roller coaster, unable to get off to regain her equilibrium. She’d challenged her parents for her independence, freely choosing who she wanted to date. But that no longer mattered. A man she had known all her life, loved for more than half her life, had professed his love for her and had turned her world upside down.
Christopher Delgado loved her, wanted to marry her, and she stood before him motionless, stunned, with tears filling her eyes and staining her cheeks. Leaning down, he kissed her tears, catching the moisture on the tip of his tongue.
“Baby,” he crooned softly. “Please, don’t cry.” He breathed a kiss at the corner of her trembling mouth. “Everything will work out all right. Trust me.”
Sniffling, she pressed her nose to his shoulder, nodding. “I’ll try.”
“Will you trust me enough to become my wife?”
“Yes. Sí, Cristobal,” she repeated in Spanish. “I will marry you and bear your children.”
Chapter 17
January 10
Emily awoke to find Chris sitting several feet from her bed, one leg looped over his knee and hands draped over the curved arms of the antique chair. She wasn’t certain when he had entered her bedroom, though he hadn’t been there when she finally fell asleep several hours before streaks of light pierced the sky. She had lain in bed, berating herself for agreeing to marry in Mexico. It was as if she and Chris were paralleling their parents’ lives. Both Matthew and Eve Sterling and Joshua and Vanessa Kirkland had exchanged their vows in Mexico. What was it about the country that had roused passions they could not resist? And she did love Chris—more now that she had agreed to share her life with him. A slight smile softened her mouth when she realized that when the sun set to signal the end of the day she would be wife and lover to the man who had watched her while she slept.
Private Passions Page 15