Harvest Moon

by Rochelle Alers

  Regina smiled for the first time since hearing the doctor confirm her suspicions. “That’s because he saved your life. Daddy was your hero.”

  Her father had saved her mother’s life when her ex-husband tried to drown her after she had rejected his advances for a reconciliation. What she hadn’t verbalized was that Aaron had become her hero, protecting her from all seen and unseen. With him she was safe.

  “And he still is,” Parris admitted. “Does Aaron know that you love him?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I couldn’t tell him.”

  “Do you know if he loves you?”

  “He said he did, but I don’t know about now. I left him without saying goodbye.”

  Parris touched her daughter’s cheek. “What’s going to happen now? I hope you’re going to tell him about the baby.”

  Biting down hard on her lower lip, Regina turned to stare out the side window. “I’ve decided to tell him in person.”

  Parris closed her eyes briefly, willing the tears welling up behind her eyelids not to fall. “When are you leaving?”

  “In a couple of weeks,” she replied noncommittally, twisting the circle of diamonds around her finger.

  “What about marriage?”

  A slight frown furrowed her forehead as she turned to meet her mother’s gaze. A shaft of sunlight highlighted the green in Parris’s clear brown eyes, reminding Regina of a pairing of brilliant emeralds and warm golden topaz.

  “I’m not going to marry a man just because I’m carrying his child.”

  Parris opened her mouth, then closed it just as quickly. Whatever impasse Regina would have with Aaron Spencer would have to be solved by them. She hoped the man her daughter had chosen to father her child would be puissant enough to withstand Regina’s formidable personality.

  Regina’s planned departure from Fort Lauderdale was vastly different than the one of a decade ago. The early morning breakfast she shared with her parents, brother, and sister was filled with laughter and a few ribald jokes about scantily clad women from a normally serious Tyler when he promised to visit her in Bahia during Carnival.

  Martin Cole glanced at his watch and stood up. He pushed back his chair. “Let’s go, Cupcake. It’s time we left.” He would drive her to the airport, then return to the offices of ColeDiz International, Ltd. for a monthly board meeting. He looked forward to the meetings because they offered him the opportunity to spend a few days with his half brother. Even though Joshua Kirkland still maintained an apartment in Palm Beach, he preferred living with his family in the Southwest. He had relocated to Santa Fe after he retired from a career as the former decorated Associate Coordinating Chief of the Army’s Defense Intelligence Agency.

  Parris also rose to her feet. “And I have to go into the shop this morning.” She had set up an interior design business in nearby Hollywood, Florida, after Arianna entered high school, but had limited her clients to no more than a half-dozen at any given time.

  Regina stood up, holding out her arms to her brother and sister. The three hugged tightly while sharing a secret smile, then she walked over to her mother. “I’ll call you as soon as I arrive,” she promised.

  “I pray you find a lasting happiness this time.”

  “So do I,” Regina whispered.

  Parris stared at her, tears filling her eyes, then turned and walked out of the kitchen to grieve in private. Tyler and Arianna stared at their mother’s departing back and followed her.

  Picking up her handbag from the countertop, making certain it contained her passport, traveler’s checks, and an ample amount of Brazilian currency, Regina walked out of the house and to the garage, where her father waited beside his car.

  Smiling up at him, she said teasingly, “I must have been a Gypsy or a bedouin in another life.”

  He dropped an arm around her shoulders. “You’re a lot like I was at your age. It was as if I was living two lives simultaneously, traveling from country to country on business.”

  “When did it stop?”

  He gave her a smile that reminded her of her own. “After I married your mother.”

  She shifted an arching eyebrow. “But I was married.”

  Martin’s smile faded. “You married the wrong man the first time, Regina.”

  “Like my mother?”

  He nodded. “I know you’ll get it right the next time.” Opening the passenger-side door, he helped her into the car, then took his position behind the wheel.

  Both were silent during the drive to the airport, each lost in their private musings—Martin wishing the best for his willful daughter, Regina trying to imagine Aaron’s reaction when he saw her again. He would notice the most obvious change first, leaving her to tell him of the changes going on within her body. What she did not try to predict was his reaction to the news that he was to become a father.

  They arrived at the Fort Lauderdale Airport, she hugging and kissing her father once they neared the security sector. “I love you, Daddy.”

  He closed his eyes, smiling. “And I love you, too, Cupcake.” He opened his eyes, his expression sobering. “I want you to take care of yourself and my grandchild.”

  “I will,” she promised.

  “If you need me—for anything—I want you to pick up the phone and call.”

  “I will,” she repeated.

  Those were the last words they shared before she turned and made her way to the area where she would be cleared to board her flight. Half an hour later she was seated in the private jet, en route to Brazil.

  Regina stared out the small window, her eyes widening in amazement as the jet lost altitude in preparation for a landing. She had not been able to fathom the size of Brazil with its magnificent Amazon River and awesome rain forest. Observing Salvador da Bahia for the first time from an aerial view was something that would stay with her forever. Built on a bluff, Salvador, Brazil’s first capital, overlooked Bahia de Todos os Santos.

  She recalled Aaron Spencer’s deep voice when he had spoken of the beauty and majesty of the country he had decided to make his home. He had related that eighty percent of Salvador’s two million people were black—as evidenced by the region’s music, art, dance, cuisine, and festivals—but she did not understand why he was still an American. Even though he had lived in the South American country most of his life, he had elected not to relinquish his coveted U.S. citizenship status.

  Regina felt the intense heat and humidity the moment she walked out of the Aeroporto Dois de Julho following the baggage handler, who led her to an awaiting car. It was the middle of November, and in another two weeks the Brazilian summer season would officially begin.

  She ignored the admiring glances men threw her way as she passed them, her attention focused on the driver standing beside the car. He nodded, opened the rear door for her, then closed it. Settling back against the leather seat, she closed her eyes and inhaled the cool air coming from the automobile’s vents.

  Her father’s longtime personal secretary had seen to her travel arrangements, from securing a ninety-day visa to reserving a car and driver for the trip from the airport to Aaron’s home. Philip Trent, ColeDiz’s senior attorney, had made certain funds from her personal account were wired to a Salvador branch of Banco do Brasil for her use.

  She was prepared to spend three months in Salvador, the capital of the northeast state of Bahia, then return home. The tentative plans she had made to secure her own home and set up a business were delayed because of her impending motherhood.

  Thinking of becoming a mother wrung a satisfied smile from her as the driver drove quickly and expertly over cobblestone streets lined with ornate churches from the early sixteenth century.

  There were times during her marriage to Oscar when she wished it had been a real one, in which she could actually feel like a wife. She had wanted to share her husband’s bed and also his body, and there were times during the eight years that she thought about having a child. She had then dismisse
d the notion as quickly as it had come to mind. There would have been no way she could have cared for a child and a terminally ill husband at the same time. And it would not have been fair to Oscar, knowing he would never live to see his child reach adulthood.

  A part of Oscar would now live on in his grandchild. Closing her eyes, she placed a slender hand over her flat middle, praying silently for a son, a son who would inherit the gentleness of both his father and grandfather. The rolling motion of the car lulled her into a state of total relaxation, and within minutes she succumbed to the drowsiness that seemed to envelop her now when she least expected it. When the driver turned off the local road and onto the one leading to the da Costa property, she missed the many acres of coffee trees putting forth their abundant yield for a May harvest. It wasn’t until the car came to a complete stop that she opened her eyes and peered through the glass at the structure Aaron Laurence Spencer called home.

  The driver opened the rear door, extended his hand, and pulled her gently to her feet. “Obrigado,” she said softly, pleased she had remembered the Portuguese word for thank you. She knew very few words of Portuguese, but her knowledge of Spanish would serve her better than if she didn’t understand any of the language.

  Standing beside the car, she waited for the driver to make his way across an open courtyard to the entrance of a two-story, stucco farmhouse with a red-tiled roof. There were several smaller buildings constructed in the same Spanish-Moorish architecture as the main house several hundred feet away, and Regina wondered who or what had occupied these buildings over the years.

  The driver returned and retrieved her luggage from the trunk of his car, then motioned with his head for her to follow him. “Por favor, Senhora.”

  She followed the man, grateful that he spoke Portuguese and Spanish. Each step she took brought her closer to her destiny, and she knew even if she did not marry Aaron Spencer their lives would always be linked to each other because of the tiny child growing beneath her breasts.

  The solid wooden door opened and a petite, dark-skinned woman with crinkling, graying hair pulled back in a tight chignon glared up at her. Observing her, Regina saw every race of Brazil etched on her face: African, European, and Native Indian. It wasn’t possible to tell her age, because in spite of the graying hair her skin was flawless and wrinkle-free.

  Her dark eyes saw everything, missing nothing—especially the diamond wedding band Regina wore on the third finger of her left hand. She drew in a quick breath, then let it out slowly, turning her attention to the driver. “Tell Senhora Spencer that Senhor Spencer is not here, but she may come in.”

  The driver translated in Spanish, and Regina smiled at the woman for the first time, nodding. She stepped into the entry and followed the woman through an inner courtyard open to the sky, then into a living room with a vaulted brick ceiling. She was not given time to survey her surroundings, since the woman gestured to her.

  They made their way up a curving staircase with a wrought-iron railing, the driver following with her luggage, to the second floor. Thick, bare, white plaster walls and a brick flooring kept the interiors cool, offsetting the intense heat of a country set south of the equator.

  The older woman opened the door to a room, and stood aside. Regina walked in, then the driver, who placed her luggage in a corner. A majestic octagonal ceiling rose twenty feet above bare, stark-white walls and a polished wood floor, making it a place of beauty. She knew instinctively it was Aaron’s bedroom.

  Opening her purse, she withdrew several reis notes and handed them to her driver. He thanked her profusely in Spanish before turning to the housekeeper and addressing her in rapid Portuguese. Whatever he said seemed to affect the woman, who nodded apologetically.

  He turned his attention back to Regina. “Senhora Pires will bring you some refreshment before you take your siesta. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay in our wonderful country.”

  “I’m certain I will,” she replied, successfully stifling a yawn. What she wanted to tell the driver was that she did not want anything to eat or drink as much as she wanted to sleep, because she had eaten lunch during the flight. There was only a two-hour time difference between the eastern United States and eastern Brazil, so jet lag was not a factor.

  Waiting until she was left alone, she removed her shoes, slacks, blouse and bra, but left on her panties. Then she pulled back a colorful handmade quilt and slipped under a cool cotton sheet. The scent of Aaron’s cologne swept over her as she closed her eyes. Ten minutes later, the smell of coffee and fresh bread wafted in her nostrils, but she did not open her eyes.

  If she had, she would have seen the cold fury in the depths of Magda Pires’s malevolent gaze.

  Chapter 16

  Regina woke hours later, totally disoriented. Lengthening shadows crisscrossed the room, giving no indication of the hour. Rolling over onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling. Then she remembered. She was in Bahia, and in Aaron’s bedroom.

  “Boa tarde, Senhora Spencer.”

  Recognizing the deep male voice, she gasped, noticing Aaron’s presence for the first time. He sat in a corner, his face hidden in the shadows.

  Sitting up, she pulled the sheet over her naked breasts. “Good afternoon,” she replied, her voice lower than usual with the lingering effects of sleep.

  Aaron closed his eyes, and at the same time his grip on the arms of the chair tightened. He forced himself not to move, not to go to her. His housekeeper had called him at the institute, asking if he would be home for the evening meal because his wife had arrived, and he had known she was referring to Regina Cole-Spencer. If she had introduced herself as Senhora Spencer, then Magda would assume that she was his wife instead of his stepmother.

  Opening his eyes, he visually examined the woman on his bed. She had changed. Missing was the waist-length curly hair, and in its place was a sleek style with the remaining glossy, black curls swept off her face and long neck. If possible, she was even more beautiful than he had remembered. She appeared older, more sophisticated.

  Looping one knee over the other, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Why did you come?”

  Her gaze widened. “Why? Because I told you I would, that’s why.”

  “You did not tell me, Regina. You left me a note!”

  “I left you a note because I couldn’t face you.”

  “Why? Because you were too much of a coward to say whatever you needed to say to my face?”

  Regina felt a rush of heat suffuse her face. “It had nothing to do with cowardice. I had to leave when I did or I never would’ve returned to Florida. I’d been away for eight years—eight long years.”

  Aaron uncrossed his leg, placing both feet firmly on the floor. “What are you talking about?” he questioned softly, rising to his feet and closing the distance between them.

  Regina stared up at him in a stunned silence when she saw his face. If she had changed, he had, too. He still wore his hair close to his scalp, but he had added a moustache to his lean, clean-shaven face—a moustache that was an exact replica of Oscar’s. Her gaze followed him as he sat down on the bed beside her. She flinched slightly when he laid his right hand along her jaw.

  “If I had left Mexico with you I don’t think I would’ve returned to the States,” she confessed.

  “Why?” He leaned in closer, inhaling the clean, feminine scent that was exclusively Regina Spencer’s.

  Her gaze fused with his. “Because I had fallen in love with you, Aaron. It was easier for me to leave you at El Cielo than have you walk away from me at the airport.”

  Aaron flashed an easy, open smile for the first time since he had returned to Bahia from Mexico. He arched a sweeping eyebrow. “You love me?” He seemed amazed by her admission.

  Regina lowered her gaze in a demure gesture. “Sí.”

  “And I, you,” he whispered, pressing her gently back against the pillows cradling her shoulders. His mouth closed over hers, telling her silently how much he had missed her. What began
as a tender joining, a series of slow, shivery kisses, became a hot, hungry possession as he devoured her mouth.

  Succumbing to the forceful dominance of his mouth, Regina pressed her parted lips to his, capturing his thrusting tongue. The heat in his large, powerful body was transferred to hers, and her hands were as busy as his when she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his wide shoulders.

  Their mouths still joined, Aaron quickly divested himself of his slacks and briefs. There was only the sound of their labored breathing and the whisper of fabric against bare skin, followed by the satisfied moans of their bodies joining in a familiar act of possession.

  He suddenly went still. His passion for the woman he held to his heart was spiraling out of control, and he wanted to prolong their fulfillment until the last possible moment. It was not to be.

  Lowering his head, his mouth closed over an erect nipple, causing Regina to writhe sensuously beneath him. He suckled her breasts relentlessly, the motion sweeping down her body to the secret place between her thighs, her soft whimpers firing his blood. Everything that was Regina—her feminine scent, silken limbs, husky voice, and tight, hot, moist body—pulled Aaron in so that he forgot who he was.

  “I’ve missed you, Princesa. I’ve missed you so much.”

  She nodded, unable to verbalize how much she missed him as her hands moved over his back and down his hips. Her fingers tightened on the firm muscles of his hips when he began moving inside her.

  Nothing mattered, only his comforting weight and the hardness between his muscled thighs sliding in and out of her throbbing flesh and increasing her fever-pitch desire for him.

  Her lust for him overrode everything else, and she surrendered to the fiery passion, soaring to an awesome, shuddering climax as the screams in the back of her throat erupted and then faded away in a lingering sigh of sated delight.

  Aaron’s own pleasure peaked and exploded with a frenzied thrusting of his powerful hips and a deep, rumbling moan of gratification. His heart pounded painfully in his chest as he tried forcing air into his labored lungs. Not only were they man and woman, but she had become heart of his heart, and flesh of his flesh. He loved her; he loved her so much he feared losing himself if she ever left him again. Burying his face between her scented shoulder and neck, he rained kisses across the silken flesh.