His gaze had been filling with wonder as she’d talked, but that was quickly supplanted by resignation. “I tried to offer you all the love and support that would heal you, but I can see now how wrong I was to rush you into a commitment then. I should have remained by your side, let you rebuild and heal yourself at your own pace. But I pressured you and paid for it. I felt our marriage was like quicksand. The more I showed you how much I was committed to making our relationship work, the more you slipped away. Then you got pregnant and I was so blinded by joy that I didn’t see how miserable you were. Then you lost the baby, became even harder to reach, and we had that confrontation, and it was far worse than my worst fears.”
Her heart had long stopped. To listen to his revelations, to try to absorb their glory—and agony. Now it punished her, pummeling her ribcage at the sight of his face closing, warding off the blow of resurrected anguish.
“It brought back the degradation of my mother’s existence and my own in L.A. in the circles of the rich and bored. I had women pursuing me for nothing but lust and vicious competition, and at first I didn’t understand. I didn’t have much experience then, as I’d never had the time for women or anything else, studying and working myself to the bone since I was eight, providing for my mother, sparing her, since I was twelve. Then I understood and it sickened me. But you were different. I believed in you and even more so for clinging to your commitments, no matter how misplaced. Hearing you tell me you were no better than those women, that you just used me…”
“I didn’t. “ The denial sheared her. “I lied. I was just hurting so much I wanted to hurt you.”
He closed his eyes, gripped the hands that flailed for him, lowered them in a vise on his knees. “And you did. Deus, how you did. Then, after the pain subsided to a constant ache, I’d one moment tell myself you didn’t mean it, that it was a backlash at the cruelty and pain you’d suffered, that I should let you continue the growth that they’d stunted, let you heal without me, without props. The next moment I wasn’t so lucid, which was most of the time, and I was plain humiliated and mad at you.”
She choked on a cry and his hands convulsed around hers, then gentled, caressed their backs, his eyes intent on the action. “It wasn’t all bad. It did boost my drive to prove myself and I took the years to do just that, always keeping an eye on you. Then I took over the expedition and decided to pursue you again to get you out of my system.”
Yes—yes, that was a reason she could live with, that would give her more time with him, wouldn’t end up with him hurt.
He raised his eyes and destroyed that hope. “But it wasn’t how it worked out. You caught me again. For ever this time.”
It was… too huge. Too horrible. What had she ever done to deserve his love? Tears burned their way out of her eyes. “But you couldn’t have loved me. I was an empty, stupid girl, then a self-pitying, scarred mess. How could you have loved the horrible sight I made, how can you love me now?” Her hands slipped from under his, one jerking the cover to her body, the other to the healed wounds on her face, self-consciousness wringing her heart dry. “You can’t. Just tell me you don’t.”
His eyes followed her actions, then suddenly snapped to hers, vehement opals. Then he exploded off the bed.
“You win, Jewel. It seems I have my limits and you just pushed me to them. You came for answers and you got the only ones I have. Either you believe me or not, either you take my answers or leave them. Leave me to finally get on with my life!” That had been bellowed.
She looked up at him, the man who meant far more than life, bore the brunt of his fury and realized. She was healed.
Any other time she would have assigned the most twisted intention to his words and run away to lick her wounds. But now she believed every word he said. Every word he’d ever said.
It should have been her life’s most ecstatic moment.
She’d never known such misery existed.
But he was giving her a way out.
She’d take it, for his sake.
She rose from the bed, let the cover drop, searched his spacious, Spartan bedroom for the clothes he’d stripped off her when he’d swept her in here a lifetime ago.
She’d gathered them and was heading out of the room when he yanked her back to him, agitation setting his face ablaze.
“Deus, I’m sorry, Jewel. Don’t leave me. I didn’t mean it, I’m just—justs You need more convincing? What other motive could I have had, or have now, for wanting you, for saying I love you?”
He put her at arm’s length, razed her from head to toe with a devouring glance. “What more is there? Your scars? They were just another part of you. I looked at you and saw the woman I craved, touched you and your response drove me clear out of my mind. But when you sought so many corrective surgeries I thought you wanted to go back to your old world.” He ran a finger over her most prominent scar, his smile all embarrassed indulgence. “But I soon realized how stupid my suspicions were. And now I realize your physical scars were interfering with your psychological healing and you kept fixing your body until your outer image corrected the inner one.”
His eyes shifted color, as if with dawning insight. “But that’s not exactly it either, is it? I think your scars run so deep they’re independent of how you look on the surface. So what is it? Does knowing that you were restored surgically make you feel still damaged? Do you believe that being damaged physically means being unworthy of love? Would you stop wanting me if I got scarred now, lost an arm or a leg?”
The image tore through her and she couldn’t hold back, hugged him, warding off the horror. He hugged her back as fiercely. “Or did the bastards in your life convince you way before the accident that you’re unworthy of love anyway?” The rumble that escaped him made her believe that any of those “bastards” would be in danger if they ever crossed Roque’s path. “The parents who neglected their child, who valued her only as long as she complemented their image, who live for their whims and success, and all those who fill their circles are the worthless ones. And you can’t be more wrong. You’re everything that’s worthy, everything I can and do love, more than ever now you’ve become all that you can be. Though I know you will continue to grow and I’ll fall deeper in love with you. If you’ll let me.”
Her tears were a stream now. If he loved her that much then he loved her as much as she loved him. He’d be devastated when she left. It was still the lesser evil than if she stayed. She pushed out of his arms.
He groaned. “What now, Jewel? Have mercy!”
It was time to have mercy on both of them.
She shook, hiccupped. “I should have told you before, I would have if I’d even suspected you loved me—but I thought it wouldn’t matter to you as I thought you never would…”
“What?” His growl was stressed, fractured. “Just tell me!”
“I may be fixed on the surface, but my internal injuriess” She gulped then blurted it out. “I can’t have babies!”
She struggled with suffocation, but had to go on. Explain it all. “When I lost our baby they told me I’d never carry a baby to viability, that with the scarring in my uterus and ovaries there was over a ninety percent chance I’d never get pregnant again anyway. I was so devastated I couldn’t bear for you to know. I begged the doctors not to tell you. Then you told me you wanted more children, had to have them, as—as is your right. And I guess I went mad…”
He stared at her for a heart-bursting eternity.
Then he laughed!
She was debating which of them had lost their mind when he hauled her to him and pressed kisses all over her face. “Ah, minha Jóia, my jewel, my joy. That’s why you thought it was OK to make love without protection. And I’ve been torturing myself with nightmares of you being a promiscuous femme fatale.”
“Some femme fatale, who only ever had one lover.” She smothered the confession in his chest.
A shudder ran through him then he went still. A hard-breathing moment later he raised her st
reaming face, his eyes wide with such wonder, relief, humility—and, oh, God, so much love. “Next you’ll tell me you never had other lovers because you always loved me, too, and I’ll die of a happiness overdose.”
His hand dug into her hair, a gentle tug bringing her eyes up to his, his breathing ragged. “I don’t care if you can’t have children. I don’t care at all.”
“Oh, God—don’t! You don’t mean that. You cared before. You told me how much you care.” She raised her voice, stopping his objection. “And even if you may mean it now, you’ll care later. I saw how you looked at the baby we delivered, I understand more than ever now why it’s vital for you of all men to have a family.”
“You’re my family. I looked with longing at that baby because you were holding her. I want to have a child only if you can have one. We can try, and if you can’t we can find a surrogate mother to carry our baby.”
“It would be your baby alone. It’s most probable I don’t have healthy enough eggs…”
“I’m not having a child with another woman. If you can’t have one even this way, we’ll adopt. Or not. I only want you. Believe that. I only ever wanted you!”
Sobs were now shaking her so hard she had to cling to him to remain upright. He clung back. “How do you know I can have children any more? Even with all the precautions, I’ve been exposed to tons of radiation during my experiments. What if we run tests and find out you can have children now and I can’t? Would you leave me? Would you want me to leave you, thinking it was best for you?”
Her head thrashed in denial. He pressed her harder, shaking as hard now as she was. “Do you know what I thought when I looked at that baby? That if you had my baby it would prove you loved me. All I ever wanted was to know you loved me. And even now, I don’t know if you do. You never told me, and now you want to leave me again…”
Sudden power surged into her, bringing her useless arms around him, protecting, absorbing his torment, confessing all. She put her lips to his chest and poured everything she felt for him, hoping it would pour right inside, fill him with peace. “Love is too small a word, an emotion—it’s nothing to what I feel for you. I worship you—even when I was unfit to know my own mind. My insecurity wasn’t born of my scars or my parents’ indifference or people’s exploitation, it was of being unable to believe my luck that you should want me, of the misery of knowing I can’t give you everything you deserve.”
“Just give me yourself, say you’ll be my wife, for real and for ever, minha Jóia.” She shook her head and her tears splashed on his naked chest, mingled with his. “You’re so afraid of not giving me what I deserve? Don’t I deserve the right to know what I need? A lifetime with the only woman I can love? Don’t I deserve some mercy?”
“Only if you promise me, if one day you change your mind, you won’t stay with me out of loyalty or compassion…”
He suddenly let her go, left her staggering as he stalked over to his jeans. He put them on with precise movements then turned to her. “Fine, I promise that if one day the paternal urge gets too much, I’ll dump you.”
She’d just asked him for just that, but to hear him putting it in words—God!
He was going on. “Of course, since having children involves a female, and I won’t have you raising my child from another woman, I’d have to marry one so she’d raise her own children with me. But since fate has already handed me my soul-mate, any other woman would be a crushing disappointment—at best. Then, when she felt how atrociously wanting I found her in comparison to you, she’d turn into a vindictive harpy who’d turn the kids I left you to have into loathsome brats who hate my guts. And I would end up leaving them and coming back to you.” He raised his eyes to her. “So, as I’m bound to end up with you anyway, why don’t you just save us the time and hassle?”
She stared at him, stunned.
One daunting eyebrow rose, a taunt defying her to find a response. And she did the last thing she could have expected she would do in this heart-rending situation. She burst out laughing.
He watched her helpless fit, his lips twitching, his eyes still wary. Then he folded his arms on his expansive chest and cocked his head at her. “And while we’re at it, why don’t you come here and coax me a bit? I’ve been running after you for twelve years, I demand at least twelve minutes of pursuit in return.”
It was too much. Too much. Her sobering eyes told him how much, told him everything as she whispered, “Are you sure?”
“Inferno, you maddening, devastating, heartbreaking woman. Just love me.”
And she ran to him, knew she’d never stop running to him, as long as he wanted her. She was beginning to believe he’d never stop. She did believe he’d never stop.
He bolted out of reach, evaded her, made her run after him around the almost empty and huge room. With every parry, every burst of speed to capture him, every flash of joy on his beloved face, she felt all her worries dwindling, everything taking a fading back seat to the one thing that mattered. That she did the bidding of her man, that she simply loved him.
She had to catch him first.
He didn’t let her for those twelve minutes he’d demanded. And then they were over and he stood there and let her pounce on him, let her drag him to bed, push him there and come down over his lazily sprawled magnificence.
“You’re very lenient, you know?” she panted, smiling her heart out down on him, soaking up his blazing love. “I would have run after you for the rest of the night. I’d run for twelve years in atonement if you want me to.”
“You’d be running in circles as I’d be running after you, too. I told you once it’s a win-win situation. For both of us. And if you stick by the very simple rule I gave you, nothing can ever be less than perfect.”
“Just love you, huh?” Her smile shook with the enormity of her emotions as he ran a possessive hand down her back, his eyes on fire with pride and relief. “I will. Love you through this life and any other beyond. I’ve loved you all these years, even when I couldn’t bear acknowledging it, and it’s what drove me to become who I am now. You inspired me, Roque. And I spent the years growing into someone you can love, someone worthy of you.”
Roque inhaled an expansion of every pure and taxing emotion there was. He felt as if his arms spanned the earth and heavens with her filling them. He thought he’d confessed it all to her. But he still had more, would always have more, to give thanks for, to marvel at. Just knowing that she loved him. Loved him.
He entwined a shaking hand into her glossy hair. “It’s me who had to be worthy of you, amor. And though I prayed you would love me, too, now that I know you do, I find it humbling. I, too, struggled long and hard with my self-worth, if for different reasons. But now that you believe I never had any ulterior motive in marrying you, now that you’re trusting me with the rest of your life, this is my real validation. And, amor…“ He tugged gently, demanding a solemn moment. “You are right to trust me. I am yours. I will live to deserve your trust and enrich your life. Never, ever doubt me. Believe every word I’ve said or will ever say to you.”
She looked down at him for a long, long moment, as if taking stock once and for all, assimilating acceptance into unquestioning belief.
Then she smiled, her cherished face tearful, radiant, sure. “I promise, no more doubts, no more heartache, ever again. Except if it’s for you…”
“Oh, no, you don’t! You almost killed me when you got it into your head you were looking after my best interests. From now on, don’t think. Just love me. What do you say?”
“Oh, I can’t do anything but love you. And if you were strong enough to weather my ups and downs at my worst, if you’re still crazy enough to love me now, cracks and all, I’ll burden you with more of me, all of me, all my life. What do you say?”
He gave her a practical answer, sweeping her around, drowning her in every passionate answer he could think of.
And he could think of a lot. He was brilliant after alls.
Hot, steamy,
sizzling…
Mixing with the polo-playing jet set,
the fabulously rich…!
One night in
BUENOS AIRES
Three vivid, passionate and dramatic novels by three favourite writers
The Vásquez Mistress
SARAH MORGAN
About the Author
SARAH MORGAN trained as a nurse and has since worked in a variety of health-related jobs. Married to a gorgeous businessman, who still makes her knees knock, she spends most of her time trying to keep up with their two little boys, but manages to sneak off occasionally to indulge her passion for writing romance. Sarah loves outdoor life and is an enthusiastic skier and walker. Whatever she is doing, her head is full of new characters and she is addicted to happy endings.
CHAPTER ONE
SHE sat straight as a warrior on the horse, her hair gleaming like liquid gold under the baking Argentine sun.
When he’d first noticed her in the distance his reaction had been one of irritation, partly because the horse had been galloping hard in the ferocious heat, but mostly because he’d been seeking solitude, not company. And if there was one thing that the Argentine pampas offered in abundance it was the opportunity for solitude.
Endless grassland stretched far into the distance, the horizon so perfectly straight and flat that it might have been drawn with a ruler.
Irritation had turned to concern as horse and rider had drawn closer and he’d recognised the animal she was riding.
He felt a flash of anger towards whomever had allowed her to take that particular horse out alone and made a mental note to find the culprit. And then anger faded to slow, simmering masculine appraisal as he scanned the delicate lines of her features.
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