Salazar's One-Night Heir

by Jennifer Hayward

  She frowned. “Why is that?”

  “Leo is the product of an old affair between he and Sadie. Why she didn’t tell him about his son, I don’t know. I expect I’ll find out more when I see him.”

  She nodded. Shifted her weight to stand up. He sank his thumb deeper into the flesh of her palm to keep her there. Heat darkened her eyes, that always on electricity pulsing between them, but there was a wariness there too, a seemingly permanent state of affairs he was beginning to hate, particularly when he’d been the one to put it there.

  “I will clearly have to kiss you this weekend,” he said huskily. “Perhaps we’d better get back into practice?”

  She froze, the hesitancy written in every bone of her body making him curse beneath his breath. He was demonstrating she could trust him in every way he could. What the hell more could he do?

  “Alejandro...”

  “Forget it.” He pushed the drawing back at her. “I’ve got work to do.”

  He was in a fairly antagonistic mood then as they arrived at Sebastien’s glorious Waldenbrook estate in Oxfordshire, situated on two hundred acres of lush, green, forested land.

  Perhaps Sebastien would offer up one of his sadistically cruel, military-inspired obstacle courses this weekend...some target practice with a powerful gun. That could burn off some frustration.

  “Not this weekend.” Sebastien dashed his hopes as he stood on the front steps of the impressive Georgian manor, his arm wrapped around his wife. “My niece, Natalia, is mad about show jumping. We’re hosting the Oxfordshire County Show this weekend as a show of support.”

  Alejandro scowled. A horse show?

  His disappointment evaporated when he saw Cecily’s pale face. Meu Deus. Of all the weekends. Sebastien moved his gaze between the two of them. “Of course.” He bumped his head with his hand. “How bloody stupid of me. Of course you should ride, Cecily. I should have let you know. Borrow one of Natalia’s horses.”

  Cecily pushed a smile to her face. “I’m taking a break from riding. Just for a short while with the engagement and my move to New York.”

  “Well you must come out and cheer for Natalia. She’d be so thrilled.”

  His fiancée didn’t flinch even though they’d announced the American world championship team today, the papers full of the news, rife with speculation as to why she hadn’t made it. Instead of focusing on her brilliant comeback in Geneva, the press had noted Cecily’s less than stellar year. He knew it was killing her but she didn’t let it show.

  “I would enjoy that,” she murmured. “Of course.”

  Sebastien sent them off to get settled in their room before cocktails, a staff member carrying their luggage.

  “I didn’t know,” Alejandro said in a low voice.

  Cecily lifted a shoulder. “It’s fine.”

  * * *

  It wasn’t fine. Cecily attempted to readjust her bearings as she and Alejandro were shown to a gorgeous suite on the second floor of the manor, decorated in pale blue and silver with a lovely balcony and luxurious en suite bathroom.

  Part of her mental preparation for this weekend had been to promise herself she would not think about her career or family—the gaping holes inside of her threatening to tear her apart. Instead, she had been plunged right into the center of the world she was trying to avoid just as she was slated to put on a performance of adoring fiancée in front of Alejandro’s closest friends.

  How was she supposed to do that with a horse show going on under her nose?

  She walked to the window and took in the sprawling English countryside. Even now she could see them setting up the show course in the distance, the lush surrounding forestland providing spectacular scenery.

  “This is for you.”

  She turned to find Alejandro holding out a cream-embossed envelope. Swallowing back the jagged edge inside of her, she crossed to him, took the envelope and tore it open, reading her hostess’s sophisticated script.

  Cecily,

  I hope you will join me in the Rose Room for breakfast at eight tomorrow morning. I’ve invited Sadie and Calli. I’d like to take this opportunity to get to know all of you better.

  Monika

  Alejandro peered over her shoulder. “That’s nice. You’ll like Monika.”

  She nodded. “I should have a bath so we aren’t late.”

  She attempted to collect herself while immersed in lemon-scented bubbles up to her chin in the luxurious marble tub. Her interaction with Alejandro on the plane wasn’t helping.

  He had been a rock in the center of the storm this past couple of weeks, there for her in every way. Sensing how disoriented she was, he’d given her carte blanche on her dream stables and worked side by side with her on the plans, an attempt she knew, to distract her, but one that had also thrown her into confusion.

  She’d gotten to know him over those quiet dinners they’d shared talking and working through the plans. Had been able to see beneath some of those complex layers of his. Yes, he was tough and ruthless when it came to acquiring what he wanted, but she’d also seen more than a few glimpses of the man she’d met in Kentucky—the brutally honest, empathetic side of him with the strength of character she’d gravitated to. Leaned on.

  If, as she was starting to believe, he was that man she’d met, why then was it so hard to take that next baby step in trusting him? Was she so afraid of being wrong again about someone after what Davis had done to her she didn’t trust her own judgment anymore, a fear Alejandro’s deception had exacerbated? Because she knew she couldn’t afford to be wrong in the decisions she was making right now with her life disintegrating around her?

  Or was she more afraid of what it would mean if Alejandro was that man she’d thought he was? How powerfully drawn she was to him. That she could easily lose her head over him all over again, the one thing she could never do in this convenient arrangement of theirs.

  She knew the next step was hers. She simply had no idea what to do.

  She felt frozen. Paralyzed. Utterly unsure of how to proceed.

  * * *

  Cecily was too quiet. Alejandro had heard enough I’m fines uttered by females who were anything but in his lifetime to know she wasn’t fine. But she wouldn’t tell him what was wrong. He assumed it was the horse show on top of today’s announcement, but who knew? The guesswork was making him crazy.

  He gave her some space as he took a shower and dressed in trousers and a pale blue shirt in deference to the evening’s casual attire. Space was what he needed when he was off balance. Maybe that’s what Cecily needed too.

  Heading to the sitting room just as the clock struck seven, he stopped in his tracks at the sight of his fiancée, dressed and ready to go.

  The sapphire silk dress finished far too high on her thighs in his opinion, a pair of sky-high silver stilettos setting off her toned, magnificent legs. There was only one thing a man wanted to do with a dress like that and you couldn’t do it in public.

  She murmured something about being late. He tore his gaze away from her legs and found his shoes.

  “You’re stiff as a board,” he said as he laced his fingers through hers and they walked down the massive, center staircase to the mezzanine.

  “Not to worry,” she said stiffly. “I won’t disappoint you. I’m channeling madly in love as we speak.”

  A slow curl of heat unraveled inside of him. He shouldn’t engage—he should keep this thing sane between them—but he was too annoyed to heed his own advice.

  He pulled her to a halt in the hallway that led to the terrace, just before they stepped outside. Resting a palm against the wall, he eyed her. “What’s wrong?”

  A tilt of her chin. “Nothing.”

  He hated that calm, even tone of voice. “Is it the show tomorrow? Today’s news?”

  “I�
�ll deal with that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Nothing.” She stared at him. “What’s the matter with you? You’ve been a bear all afternoon. You keep impressing on me how important tonight is, how much these friendships mean to you, then when I try and focus and be what you need me to be, you look annoyed.”

  “I am annoyed,” he growled. “You’re driving me crazy.”

  Her eyes widened. He stepped closer, the first time he’d allowed himself anywhere near her in weeks. Noted the fine lines of strain bracketing her mouth, the wary cast to those blue eyes. “If you are stressed,” he murmured, “you need to talk to me. You used to talk to me. Why can’t you do that?’

  A flicker in those blue eyes. “I—I don’t know.”

  He shook his head. “This isn’t going to work unless you let me in. Unless you start trusting me.”

  Confusion, indecision, wrote itself across her face. “I’m trying. Alejandro, I—”

  A thread inside him snapped. He took the last step between them, flattened his palm against the wall. Color rode her high cheekbones, her pupils dilating. “What are you doing?”

  He cupped her jaw in his fingers and lowered his head to hers, their breath mixing in a seductive, heady heat. “Solving this impasse.”

  She didn’t move away. He considered that progress. Slanting his mouth over hers, he took her lips in a leisurely, persuasive possession designed to melt those icy defenses. She didn’t move for a moment, frozen it seemed, then a sigh tore itself from her throat as she relaxed beneath his hands. Soft and pliant beneath his, her mouth was heaven. Her response—that particularly rare combination of innocence and passion that had slayed him from the very beginning nearly brought him to his knees.

  She moved closer, her soft curves brushing against the length of him. Unable to resist temptation, he curved his fingers around a bare stretch of toned, sexy thigh and pulled her even closer, his teeth catching the tender flesh of her lower lip in his.

  Santo Deus, he wanted her. Had wanted her for weeks. Ever since he’d had that first taste.

  “I would say ‘get a room,’” a low voice intoned behind them, “but since you already have one, perhaps you should use it.”

  Cecily stepped back so fast, she tripped over her heels. Alejandro wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her, directing a grin at Stavros. Dressed casually in a white shirt and gray pants, an attractive, black-haired woman at his side, his friend’s dark eyes were dancing with amusement.

  “Then I would not be here to greet your passably handsome face,” Alejandro drawled, slapping him on the shoulder. “Ola.”

  Stavros was, in fact, more than passably handsome. Swoon-worthy as some women liked to call his surly, dark good looks. Alejandro wasn’t a fan of how he turned that charm on his fiancée now—darkening Cecily’s cheeks to a deep shade of rose.

  And that was new. Considering his good friend a threat. Particularly since Stavros’s new wife was standing at his side.

  He studied her as his friend introduced them. Calli wasn’t his usual type. Stavros dated worldly, vivacious women who matched his colorful personality. Calli was quiet and unassuming. Pretty—yes. A killer figure, absolutely. But what was it about her that had convinced Stavros to take the plunge into marriage?

  It claimed his thoughts as they found Antonio and his new wife, Sadie, on the terrace along with their hosts Sebastien and Monika. Antonio he could understand. You find your son, you claim him—much like his own situation with his unborn child. Stavros, however, had chosen to marry this woman from the vast array of females he had at his beck and call in what he suspected might be a convenient marriage. Something about her must have stood out.

  And maybe, he acknowledged, as the four couples sat down for dinner together on the torch-lit terrace, this was just him trying to understand his preoccupation with the woman on his arm. How Cecily had defied his usual rules of detachment from the very beginning.

  He watched her carefully over dinner to make sure she was comfortable, but amidst the good conversation and laughter at the table she relaxed and was much more herself. He relaxed then too and made a good study of Antonio and his new wife.

  It was clear the Greek was enamored with the elegant English brunette. In fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, he thought Antonio might be in love with her their connection was so strong.

  He caught Cecily’s gaze drifting to the newly married couple more than once during the evening, a wistful expression in those sapphire eyes. Guilt gnawed at his edges. He cared about her, he knew that, but he could never give her that love she craved. He’d known it from the very beginning—why he’d been content to walk away. He’d buried that knowledge when he’d persuaded her to marry him because she was having his child. Sacrifices were necessary.

  He sat back in his chair and swallowed a mouthful of the legendary Tuscan Cabernet Sebastien was serving. His inability to forge open, loving relationships was something he’d long ago acknowledged. Somewhere along the way, he’d flipped a switch inside of himself, one of self-preservation. Love wasn’t something he was ever going to expose himself to—as unreliable as it was intransient. It wasn’t something he could reverse engineer for Cecily’s sake even if he wanted to. He was just going to have to find other ways to give her what she needed.

  Guilt pushed aside, he focused, then, on the excellent conversation between old friends and the entertaining night it turned out to be, but the woman at his side continued to claim the lion’s share of his attention.

  There was a connection between them tonight, an invisible barrier that had fallen with that kiss they’d shared. An energy that drew him like a moth to a flame. That he told himself, was what was going to sustain them, because he couldn’t imagine that chemistry fading anytime soon.

  He kept an arm across the back of her chair, fingers toying idly with her silky blonde curls as darkness fell across the English countryside and the torches burned bright into the night.

  When dinner finally concluded, the women elected to turn in early given their eight a.m. breakfast with their hostess. Alejandro tucked Cecily into his side for the walk back to their room, a chill permeating the late-night air. She shivered and moved closer. Heat stoked low in his belly. Snooker—a late night ritual with the men—was not what he had in mind.

  The suite was cast in shadows when they entered. Alejandro flicked on a lamp, his eyes never leaving his fiancée.

  “Can you help me with my dress before you go?” she requested huskily, turning her back to him.

  Her delicate scent wrapped itself around him, filling his head. He moved his fingers to the hook at the top of her dress. Tiny, almost invisible, he managed to undo it then slide the zipper slowly down her back. He thought it might be the most exquisite form of self-torture invented as he uncovered inch after inch of perfect creamy skin, right down to the dip at the small of her back, his second favorite spot on a woman.

  His body hardened as he remembered that night in Kentucky. How he’d made her come apart with his hands and mouth on that perfect skin. This time, he knew, he wanted her just like that on that bed, his arm beneath her hips, but with his aching body buried inside her instead in an animalistic possession that matched his mood.

  He set his mouth to her nape.

  “Alejandro—” she murmured, a strangled note to her voice.

  He turned her around in his arms, reading the conflicting emotions in her eyes.

  “One step at a time,” he said softly. “That’s how we do this, querida.”

  Indecision wrote itself across her blue gaze. He was leaning down to kiss her when Stavros pounded on the door.

  * * *

  “Ouaou.” Wow. “You are in a filthy mood.” Stavros gave Alejandro a sideways look as they made their way downstairs to the billiards room. “Doesn’t that ring on her finger mean you get g
uaranteed sex, because you resorting to hallways is a desperate measure my friend.”

  “We weren’t in the hallway,” Alejandro countered. “We were in our bedroom. And I was on the way.”

  “No you weren’t,” Stavros said complacently. “I was merely helping you along.”

  Alejandro scowled at him. “Instead of us talking about your bad timing, why don’t you tell me what’s going on with this marriage of yours?”

  A deceptively innocent look back. “Meaning...?”

  “You come back from Greece with a wife? How does that happen?”

  “The same way you arriving here with a fiancée does.” Stavros lifted a shoulder. “I married her for custody of my company. As good a reason as any.”

  His friend’s response was just a bit too casual, a bit too blasé for him to buy it. It was a surefire sign there were things smoldering beneath that dark façade of his. Did he have feelings for his wife?

  “What about you?” Stavros gave him a pointed look as they hit the marble mezzanine and headed toward the entertainment wing. “I need to be married...produce an heir. Antonio has a child. What’s your excuse for breaking the eleventh commandment?”

  “Have you looked at her?”

  The Greek pursed his lips. “Am I seriously allowed to answer that question?”

  “No.”

  “Just like I thought,” Stavros murmured, pushing open the door of the billiards room. “You are in trouble. Deep trouble.”

  Alejandro could have told him he was wrong. That a couple nights of hot sex, the transformation of his relationship into the rational, civilized union he’d envisioned would cure what ailed him. But the ritual of opening a seventy-year-old bottle of whiskey distracted him as Sebastien made a toast to the three of them winning the bet.

  His usual cryptic self, the Englishman acted as if he’d won the wager, making Alejandro even more sure their challenges had never really been about subsisting without their wallets.