She’d take what he offered, knowing it could all end too swiftly. She’d love him like there was no tomorrow. And when it ended this time, she’d return to England with her memories and regrets.
This would be an all-out seduction meant to erode her last defenses. Surely pride goaded Miguel to make his mark on her again, to obliterate any other lover from her mind, which was simple to do since she’d had only one other man in her life and that memory was so vague it was laughable.
Her own pride begged her to resist, but she was powerless to resist Miguel for he was offering her what she’d longed for most. Her husband. Their own house. The promise of tomorrow.
Everything but a child, and that she couldn’t give him.
But for however long they were here she could pretend that their differences had been laid to rest. That he trusted her. Loved her.
He twined his fingers with hers and led her through an ornately arched doorway into the main hall. She was sure she’d never seen a more splendid arrangement of earthen colors and plush appointments in her life. It was exactly what she would have picked out, which proved he’d known her well.
At least in this regard.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said as he put the perishables away. “The housekeeper didn’t know to expect us, so you’ll have to content yourself until I walk to her casita and bring her back here.”
“Don’t bother on my account. I can prepare a light meal.”
For a long moment she thought he’d argue, but he gave a curt nod and released her. “Very well. I’m going to the cenote at the edge of the lawn for a swim. Join me?”
“I didn’t bring a bathing suit,” she said.
He quirked one dark eyebrow. “Good. I would prefer you naked in my arms.”
The challenge was there. And what would she do here alone while he took a swim? Shower and wash her soiled clothes. Putter about the kitchen waiting for him to return. Dwell on him out there in the water, gloriously naked and alone.
The electronic trill from his mobile echoed in the cavernous room. Before he dug it from his pocket, the amorous glint in his eyes was replaced by a mien of cool reserve.
“What have you discovered?” he asked the caller, all the while holding her in place with the intensity in his gaze.
She went still, guessing this had to do with her.
“You are certain of this?” Miguel said, a slice of surprise cutting through his dark expression. “No, that is all for now.”
He laid his phone on the desk in a deceptively relaxed movement that didn’t fool her one bit. For one glance at the muscle pounding in his cheek confirmed he was beyond angry.
“Well?” she asked when her nerves threatened to snap in the tense lapse of silence.
“Your uncle had you admitted into Bartholomew Fields.”
“I told you that,” she said.
“He had no right.” He thumped a fist on his chest. “I am your husband. If you needed medical care, I should have been consulted.”
She had no argument for that. How different things would have been if Loring had contacted Miguel. And why in the world hadn’t he?
Surely he’d heard her cry for Miguel often during that time. Just what had her uncle said to the doctors when he’d had her admitted into Bartholomew Fields?
“He will pay for his interference,” Miguel said.
“No, he won’t,” she said, bracing herself for an argument. “He likely was only doing what he felt was best for me.”
He smacked his palms on the smooth tiled counter. “Do not defend your uncle to me!”
She fisted her hands, so angry at this proud, jealous man she could scream. “Why not? He took over my care because you weren’t around. He talked to me on the phone, Miguel. He knew I was miserable at Hacienda Primaro. He was well aware you’d left me there to birth your heir while you went on with your life!”
“The hacienda was our home until I could complete this one,” he said.
She pressed a hand over her heart. “I didn’t know that. I knew nothing of your plans or where you were at, but I knew someone did because you arrived at the hospital for Cristobel’s birth. Then too soon you were gone again.”
He waved a hand as if dismissing her outrage. “We have been over this before.”
“Who did know, Miguel?” she asked. “Your mother?”
A muscle worked frantically along his jaw. “She knew if I wasn’t here, I was working on the project in Tumbenkahal.”
“Yet you didn’t confide in your wife.”
“It was to be a surprise,” he said, impatience vibrating in his deep voice. “Besides, what difference does it make now?”
“Trust,” she said simply. “A husband should trust his wife and you obviously never did.”
A dark scowl pulled at his arrogant features for it was obvious Miguel had trust issues with her. “You gave me no reason to believe you, and many to raise doubts.”
It was time to let this topic go, but she couldn’t. There were too many unanswered questions. Too much hurt.
“Why didn’t your mother contact you right after the accident? Why didn’t she send a servant out to tell you that your wife was clinging to life and your baby was dead?”
His complexion turned ashen. “I was out of the country and couldn’t be contacted.”
His face and shoulders were so tensed up she could see the anger eddying off him in waves. “I don’t doubt you were severely injured, querida. Know that I won’t be forgiving to the man who locked my wife away from me for six months.”
She pressed both palms over the hard, unyielding wall of his chest. “I won’t let you harm Uncle Loring.”
He flashed her a ferocious scowl. “Why not?”
“He is retired and living off a modest pension,” she said softly. “I know he spent a considerable amount of his money ensuring I received the best care.”
“So I’m to forgive your uncle for his deception because he’s old and he used his money to care for you when your husband could have bought the whole hospital?”
“Yes! Your revenge is meaningless, because if you’d truly wanted to find me, Miguel,” she said, voicing the truth that had filled her with desolation for so long, “then you would have found me. You wouldn’t have given up unless you’d wanted to.”
With that, she left the room with as much dignity as she could. But her heart ached with the awful truth she’d just voiced. And it was the truth.
He had investigators at his disposal that could have found her. Even if her uncle had placed her in Bartholomew Fields, someone who worked there would have talked for the right monetary incentive.
He simply hadn’t wanted to find her.
The rapid thud of his shoes on the tiles alerted her that Miguel was fast on her heels. She steeled herself for more arguing and picked up her pace, for in truth she was weary of hashing over the same thing that left them circling the issue—he didn’t trust her.
“All right,” he said. “I will leave your uncle in peace if you stay with me.”
She whipped around to face him, furious he was blackmailing her to remain with him. “You can’t be serious.”
“I mean every word,” he said. “You stay with me and Loring Vandohrn will continue to enjoy his retirement. Leave and I’ll ruin him.”
“Fine, I’ll stay with you, but until you learn to trust me, I’m nothing more than your whore.”
With that, she went in search of the kitchen, thankful her steps sounded sure and steady when she was feeling anything but positive.
She half expected Miguel to follow and pick up the thread of the argument again. But she heard the door open and close and knew he’d stepped outside.
Good! Hopefully a swim in the cenote would soothe his ill temper, and the separation would give her time to cool her annoyance with him.
But he hadn’t returned in the thirty minutes it took her to prepare a light dinner. When fifteen more minutes passed with only the chatter of spider monkeys
and caw of exotic birds echoing from the jungle, worry dug claws into her.
She looked out the window, concerned over what was taking him so long. Was he lost in the moment of swimming? Or had some ill befallen him?
The latter seemed far-fetched, but the probability wouldn’t leave her. She chewed her lower lip, debating what to do. Waiting for him to return held no appeal for her.
He’d asked her to join him earlier. Dare she?
She didn’t know, could barely think over the worry pounding away in her head. One thing was clear: She couldn’t stand here waiting any longer.
CHAPTER TEN
ALLEGRA pushed out the door and hurried along the portico, the click of her sandals hushing the cacophony in the jungle. She paused at the end of the portico and splayed her hands on the stucco column. “Miguel?”
An eerie silence pulsed in the thick, humid air.
She stared at the shadows crouched across the lawn and gave in to a shiver. The cenote must be back there, not far from the house. Surely it wouldn’t take long to walk to it.
She scanned the well-tended garden for a sign of life, but nobody was around but her. Bucking up her courage, she struck out across the stone path and welcomed the excitement of her finding Miguel in a pool, gloriously naked.
In moments she stood at the top of the chasm, staring down at the placid surface of water that looked more black than turquoise this time of day. The last rays of light skipped down the flight of wooden steps that led to the shelf far below.
“Miguel? Are you down there?”
She scanned the shelf and clusters of rock, growing more worried when he failed to answer her. She started down the flight, her fingers tightening around the wooden rail that had been sanded smooth from use.
She sensed more than saw that she was alone. The quiet vibrated around her as if alive, raising the hair at her nape.
Twilight fell instantly, as if a giant hand had turned off the sun. She hurried back up the stairs and stumbled into the clearing cloaked in shadows.
The casa, which had seemed relatively close before, loomed an eternity away now. Long, thin shadows stretched out from the dense foliage like gnarled fingers.
The jungle changed at night, coming alive with a different energy. Mysterious. Alluring. Dangerous.
She set off across the lawn, her gaze focused on the glow of light drifting from beneath the portico.
The whisper of boughs parting in the dense greenery behind her feathered chills up her limbs. Something was back there, watching her. Dare she run?
“Allegra!” Miguel’s tone cracked with authority and a tinge of concern that further shattered her calm.
She turned back to the house and spotted him beneath the portico. His tall, imposing shadow offered no calm.
“Coming,” she shouted, picking up her pace.
“Do not run!” The order brooked no argument.
In moments, an engine echoed from the casa. The Jeep’s headlights moved toward her in a zigzag course, as if the driver were in his cups as he bathed the lawn in swaths of light.
She continued walking toward him, back straight, heart pounding with relief. All was well now. They’d simply crossed paths somehow.
The Jeep skidded to a stop just beyond her.
“Get in,” Miguel ordered, his voice as hard as bedrock.
She didn’t argue. “Thank you. Darkness came over me before I realized it.”
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“I thought you were swimming in the cenote.”
He threw the Jeep in gear and they jolted off. “I was, but I knew the danger in staying there past dark.”
“I was on my way back to the house,” she said. “No harm done.”
He huffed out a breath tinged with disgust. “This area is far more primitive than Hacienda Primaro. The land borders the reserve. That jungle is home to jaguar and puma, and the big cats are always looking for an easy meal.”
She digested that news slowly, letting a deeper meaning sink in. When it did, her anger exploded again.
“You intended to bring our daughter to this deserted place where jaguar roam free?”
“She would have been guarded at all times, just as she was at Hacienda Primaro.”
A chill slid down her spine. “Have you forgotten that your former guard was the one who rammed my car?”
“No.” He stared straight ahead, the lights of the dashboard illuminating the chiseled line of his stubborn jaw. “I will not forget that he murdered our daughter. And so you know,” he said with emphasis, “I have hired detectives to find Amando Riveras and bring him back here.”
“You’ll let the police and courts handle it.” She held her breath, hoping he’d say yes.
“Sí, he will be handed over to the proper authorities.” His dark gaze dared her to disagree.
“He deserves what he gets.” For if Riveras hadn’t rear-ended her and sent her car out of control, she’d still have her daughter. She’d still be able to have more babies. Blinking back tears she looked away.
Miguel parked the car near the portico and cut the engine. He gave the casa a glance filled with such longing that she knew he’d fallen in love with this place. What surprised her was that it appealed to her as well. If only their other difficulties could be put to rest.
“Come,” he said, opening her door and extending his hand to her.
She hesitated a heartbeat before laying her palm in his. Heat spread up her arm, the sense of oneness making her tremble.
“I prepared a cold plate of meats and cheeses for dinner,” she said as he escorted her into the house.
He didn’t release her hand. “I am not hungry for food.”
An intense energy hummed between them, keeping her senses honed sharp, her desire soaring. Even if he’d give her the option to postpone lovemaking, she wanted him too much to refuse.
Yes, they were hiding from the real issues still. But perhaps that was for the best, for in bed their bodies spoke freely.
His thumb lightly stroked her hand in that way that always precluded him drawing her to him. Claiming her mouth, her body.
He the conqueror, and she always surrendered to him.
She loved this man. She’d always loved him, even though he’d hurt her unbearably, even though there was only one need she could serve for him now.
Admitting that broke her heart all over again. Still she wanted him more than her next breath.
He slid both arms around her and pulled her flush with him, his eyes gleaming with desire and some other emotion she couldn’t read.
He dropped a kiss on her forehead that left her trembling.
She’d be his willing wife for eternity, if only he’d believe her. But as long as he withheld his trust from her, as long as he shut her out of his life, their marriage would never work.
They were right back where they started as lovers. She doubted he’d have married her if she hadn’t gotten pregnant.
She twisted from his arms and walked to the fireplace that lay as suddenly cold as her hopes and dreams.
“Have you changed your mind?” he asked, coming up to her from behind, not touching her physically but his heat reached out to her all the same.
“No,” she answered at last, turning to face him. “I just want to be sure I am prepared for the risk we’re taking.”
“¡Estupendo!” He took a box from the paper bag he’d set on the credenza and tossed it on the sofa. “This should be more than enough to still your fears.”
She stared at the box of condoms and wanted to laugh. Is that what he thought worried her?
Though her monthly cycle was like clockwork, it was simply a painful taunt. She couldn’t begin to remember how many nights she’d cried herself to sleep, despondent that she’d never conceive again, devastated that she’d lost her darling daughter.
“I told you before that I was badly injured in the accident,” she said. “I can’t conceive.”
Miguel jammed his fists
into his pockets and watched her face for evidence of deceit, but read nothing but profound sorrow line her features and dim the glow in her eyes. The angst in her voice clawed at his heart.
“This was confirmed by a doctor?” he asked.
Her laugh was bitter. “Yes, in Cancún after the surgery. They had to remove an ovary that had ruptured, and then infection set in.” She hugged herself and shivered, and he knew at that moment she spoke the truth. “Another specialist in England confirmed that I’d never conceive without more surgery, and even then the chances were remote.”
A quiet rage built in Miguel, for his madre should have told him this as soon as he’d absorbed the tragedy of his niña’s death. But he’d been fed a litany of accusations about Allegra’s infidelity. He’d been led to believe she’d taken the small fortune in jewels to fund her affair with Riveras.
The lies were woven with the facts to form an intricate mantilla. One couldn’t see the flaw unless they examined the whole carefully. And to his shame he hadn’t exhausted all resources during the past six months.
He’d fed on revenge to assuage his grief. No more.
“Then we won’t need condoms,” he said.
“You believe me?” she asked, a wealth of hope riding on that question.
“Sí.
“I will have my secretary find the best infertility clinic and have him make an appointment for us as soon as possible,” he said, and knew that was the wrong thing to say the moment the words left his mouth for it sounded as if he was more interested in having another child rather than repairing the massive tear in his marriage.
She stiffened and took a step back. “Even if it was possible, the last thing I want to do with you is have another child right now.”
¡Dios mio! Why must she blow this out of proportion? “You love children. Don’t deny you want to have another.”
“I’m not, but there is too much unsettled between us to even think of being parents again.”
“Then let’s settle it now.”
She tossed both arms upward as if that was the stupidest suggestion he could make. And maybe it was for how could they come to terms with six months of lies and half-truths?
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