Their enjoyment had not gone unnoticed. At one point, the platform had cleared and they’d danced alone, a fiery tango that pleased the villagers—Elena’s performance especially. They received raucous applause from the onlookers and an impromptu toast. “To Alejandro and Elena!” a cry resonated throughout the square.
Alejandro helped Elena down from the platform. They wound their way towards the refreshment tables, feted by the crowd. Men slapped him on the back, congratulating him. Whatever had happened in the privacy of his marriage, he was a well-liked figure among the village men. It felt good to be welcomed home, as if this was the final seal of approval he needed to be fully accepted back into the life he’d abandoned, accidentally or not.
He bent to steal a kiss from Elena but a loud voice caught his attention. He looked up to find the source of the commotion—it was Don Alicante. His shouts cut above the din of the crowd. “There he is. That’s the man who claims to be Alejandro di Duero.”
Don Alicante pushed through the crowd, followed by a stocky man dressed plainly in sturdy traveling clothes. Alejandro felt Elena’s grip on his arm tighten. Instinctively he moved her behind him. He squared his shoulders and planted his feet, arms folded across his chest. “What do you want?”
The crowd was silent now, eagerly watching the unfolding drama. They circled the three men, waiting. Whatever Don Alicante thought he was going to do, Alejandro thought he must be quite sure of himself to do it so publicly.
Alejandro mentally prepared himself. Whatever Don Alicante might reveal, he must be careful not to accept it as truth. Alicante was motivated solely out of revenge; whatever came from his mouth would be designed to hurt and destroy. Alejandro would not let that happen. He’d failed to protect Elena from this man once before. He would not fail to do so again.
“This man claims to know you under another name,” Alicante boldly asserted, a smug look of satisfaction on his face. Quiet whispers rippled through the crowd.
The stocky man had come up to stand next to Alicante. Alejandro noted the man wore an expression of wariness, of caution. He didn’t trust Alicante any more than Alejandro did. Good. Alejandro could work with that.
“I am looking for a man who bears some resemblance to you,” the man said cautiously. “I am Patrick Flaherty from London.”
Alejandro held the man’s gaze, assessing him. He sensed the man held something back. He had not mentioned the name of whoever he sought. But the mention of London was enough to put Alejandro on full alert and perhaps the man had meant it that way—as a subtle clue.
Alejandro had recognized early in his recovery that the sound of his voice was different than that of the other villagers. Elena had not been concerned about it, explaining that he may have spent time with Englishmen during his absence. At the time such an answer seemed plausible. Now, it seemed doubly so if a man from London was looking for him.
Alejandro decided to play the expansive host. He spread his arms wide in a gesture of hospitality. “Do I have a long lost brother?” The crowd laughed and the tension Don Alicante had created receded. Excellent. He wanted to separate this Patrick Flaherty from the crowd. He wanted to get him alone where the man could reveal his message in private.
Alejandro stepped up to the man and put a friendly arm around the stranger’s shoulders. “You are tired and have traveled far. Come with me and my wife. Our pazo is a short walk. We will give you a room for the night and you can tell me about the Englishman who is looking for me.”
He started to steer the Englishman away from the crowd, Elena on his other arm. Fifty more feet and they’d be on the perimeter of the crowd, heading up the gravel path to the pazo. But at the last moment, Don Alicante seemed to realize Alejandro’s strategy and the fact that he would shortly be outmaneuvered.
“The Englishman is looking for a man who goes by the name of Grayson Prentiss. He claims you are that man, the only survivor from the wreck of the Bluehawk.”
Alejandro stopped in his tracks and turned. The man beside him murmured apologies. “It was not my intention to have it announced so publicly,” he said.
Elena gasped as Don Alicante raised his hand and waved a jagged piece of ruined wood with the word “Bluehawk” barely readable in black paint.
Alejandro retraced his steps toward Don Alicante, every fiber of his body radiating menace. “What is this?” he growled, jerking a hand towards the battered wood.
“It is proof that you are an imposter,” Don Alicante sneered, although Alejandro was gratified that Don took an involuntary step backwards.
“Proof?” Alejandro queried. “This is nothing more than a piece of wood that washed up on shore. There’s been more than one wreck this spring. This is not proof. This is revenge.” Adrenaline was fueling him now. Alejandro looked past Don into the faces of expectant villagers. He lifted his voice. “Friends, this man tried to force my wife into marriage. He tried to threaten her with taking her home, the only source of income and shelter she had. He nearly succeeded. He has behaved abominably and without honor. Now, he seeks to discredit me because he is jealous of my return, because he covets my wife and my land.” Heads nodded in solemn agreement.
“I am Alejandro di Duero and no one takes what is mine!” Alejandro swung hard and planted the don with a long-deserved hook to the jaw. The don fell to the ground with a thud and the villagers roared their approval.
But Alejandro could hear none of it. His breath was coming in pants now, his heart pumping ferociously. But not because of his efforts—because Don Alicante had spoken the truth.
Flaherty had come looking for Grayson Prentiss and he’d found him.
The locks on the door of his memory burst like weakened dams. So much information in such a short time made him reel. Somehow, the three of them got themselves on the path up to the pazo and began the walk home, Alejandro—Grayson—in the lead, Flaherty and Elena behind. He could hear them murmuring: “He had no recollection of himself,” Elena was saying softly. “We had no idea who he was. The ship had sunk entirely—what was left of it after the fire. A piece must have finally washed up on shore.”
Her voice held tell-tale sounds of weeping but he could not go to her. He could not offer her comfort right now. He was frantically trying to sort through the memories as fast as he could, trying to figure out what everything meant.
He had no doubt this Patrick Flaherty would tell him what it meant. But he didn’t want someone else telling him what to think, what to know. Elena had already done that.
It was all he could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other, to keep walking, to keep thinking. If he stopped to dwell on any one thought for too long, he was certain his mind would snap with the realization that the best two months of his life had been nothing but fiction.
Chapter 17
Elena’s hand trembled as she lit the last lamp in the parlor. A tea tray sat on the low table by the sofa. A fire had been stoked in the grate. Everything looked as if this were a normal evening visit with company. But such normalcy seemed entirely out of place—to her, Patrick Flaherty’s visit felt more like a funeral, a funeral for her dreams.
Grayson’s memories had returned and with them had come the cold anger she’d feared.
Elena blew out the match, hesitating before she turned around. She’d have to see his face when she turned around. She’d have to see the disdain in his gray eyes. So, gray hadn’t just been the color of his eyes but his name as well.
Grayson Prentiss. A beautiful name that suited him perfectly. She loved him no matter what his name, but that didn’t matter now. Flaherty had given him his memories back. Flaherty was taking him away from her. Now, there was no place for her in his life except as someone to hate. And there was no reason not to. She’d blatantly deceived him. She’d told him he was someone else when she’d known otherwise.
Elena gathered her courage and took a seat on the sofa. The men occupied each of the chairs. “Shall I pour out?” she offered although tea was probably the la
st thing on any of their minds.
Flaherty wanted a cup, but Alejandro—Grayson—shook his head, his eyes flat and hard when he looked at her. She was glad to have something to do. She fussed over Flaherty’s cup of tea and decided to fix herself one too although she had no plans to drink it.
Flaherty took the cup and saucer and sipped. He turned to Grayson, “I am told you had no recollections after the accident with the ship.”
Grayson’s voice was flat. “I didn’t know my own name, my home, or even what I had been doing on the ship.”
The handle of Elena’s tea cup snapped and the cup fell, shattering on the table, hot liquid spilling over her hands. She heard the confused condemnation in his voice. She’d known more than she’d told him, his voice accused.
A sob escaped her lips and she pressed her hand to her mouth. Of course she had known it would come to this. But a silly part of her had hoped that their love would be enough—that even if he realized he wasn’t Alejandro he would still love her anyway. The reality was far more devastating than she’d ever thought possible.
Flaherty passed her a napkin, looking uncomfortably between her and Grayson. “I am sorry to distress you, ma’am.” He drew out a sealed letter. “This is a letter of introduction from the Earl of Dursley, Peyton Ramsden, on behalf of his brother, Paine. He vouches for who I am and my mission. Paine Ramsden has charged me with the job of ascertaining the life or death of a Grayson Prentiss in association with the missing ship, the Bluehawk.”
He passed the document to Grayson. Elena sucked in her breath, trying to control her sobs. All of her worst nightmares were coming true. Grayson was someone important. An earl was looking for him.
“I do not know the earl of Dursley,” Grayson’s voice carried an edge.
Flaherty gave a short laugh. “I should have thought of that. So much has happened since you left. Miss Julia Prentiss is being courted by Dursley’s youngest brother, Paine. As a token of his affections, he wants to give her peace of mind. She’s been dreadfully worried about you.”
Flaherty shifted awkwardly in his seat. “I think Paine worries about what to do with Miss Prentiss’s family in your absence. Their financial situation is quite precarious, as I am sure you know.”
Grayson nodded. “I was to bring back the cargo that would save us.”
His eyes sparked momentarily. Even now, when he’d been delivered such personally devastating news, he was thinking of others. What would the family do without his cargo? What could he do to alleviate their debt? The man she’d claimed as a husband was noble to a fault.
Apparently Flaherty read his thoughts too. “Paine Ramsden is a good man. He’ll not let Julia suffer or the family. He may not like them, but he loves her to distraction.”
Grayson nodded and was silent for a moment. “So, I am to return with you?” he asked.
“Yes, that would be best.” Flaherty hazarded a look in her direction. “Unless, you’d rather send a letter explaining your circumstances,” he amended quickly.
Flaherty rose, clearly eager to be away from the tension rising in the room. “I’ll leave you to sort out your details. I’ll take a room at the taverna.”
“No!” Elena and Grayson said at the same time. Grayson shot her a quelling look.
“Please, stay with us. There’s plenty of room and with the celebration going on it will be quieter here. Besides, I’d like to keep this situation to ourselves for awhile,” Grayson said, rising to show Flaherty to an upstairs room.
“I’m sorry. I had hoped this would be happy news,” Flaherty said to Grayson but he was looking at her. She wished she could gather her composure, wished she could stop sobbing into the napkin.
Grayson escorted Flaherty up the stairs and Elena took the opportunity to martial her resources. There had to be a chance to fight for him—for them.
Chapter 18
Grayson trudged down the stairs. He had to deal with Elena now. His emotions roiled. He didn’t know how to feel. Betrayed? Used? Abused perhaps? What about what they’d shared? Was any of that real? If it was, what did it mean?
Clearly she was devastated by the news. Elena, who was the most capable of women, who’d demonstrated an incredible amount of strength by running the pazo alone, had broken down in the parlor.
He should be angry at her. He should leave tomorrow and never look back. There was a preponderance of reasons for doing so. She’d deliberately lied to him. She’d filled his blank memories with faulty ones. She’d led him to believe he’d abandoned her with no word for the better part of a year. The list was quite long. Yet, when he entered the parlor and saw her dark head bent, her shoulders heaving with her sobs, his heart spoke a different message than his mind. He didn’t see a conniving woman. Instead, he saw a woman he’d come to love with every inch of his being.
She looked up, finally aware of his presence in the room. Grayson leaned against the doorframe. “Why did you do it?” The question was practically rhetorical. He knew why she’d done it and he couldn’t blame her. He’d taken every chance aboard the failing ship to save his life. Why should she be any different?
“I had nothing left to lose,” she said sullenly. “If I did nothing, Don Alicante would take the pazo. I could not live in a marriage like the one he offered. Then there was the scandal to avert. I was found naked in bed with you by multiple witnesses. The rumors had already started. That night on the beach, several people commented that you resembled Alejandro.” Elena shrugged. “I had to try.”
“You had to know my memories would likely return.” Grayson pushed off the door frame and walked to the sofa. His anger was slowly subsiding and it felt good to have rational thought flowing again.
“Yes,” she said simply. “But I hoped….” She broke off, her eyes searching his face, pleading.
“What did you hope for?” Grayson asked, a hope of his own springing to life in his chest, a hope born out of the desire to believe that there had been some truth in the fiction of the last few months.
“I hoped you might save me anyway.”
It wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear but it was something to start with. “Save you?”
“That you might not betray me to the village, to Don Alicante.” Elena tossed her hair back and met him squarely, looking more like her old self. She was challenging him.
He’d deserved that. He’d set himself up to be used by her yet again. His retort was acerbic. “And what should I do? Sign a document that gives you control over the pazo? One that Don Alicante cannot challenge? Shall I simply slip back into the sea and conveniently ‘die’ in a far off country? No one would believe my luck if my ship foundered again.”
“If that’s what you feel is best,” Elena said with quiet steel. “It would work. Such a document could be obtained in Santiago di Compostela.” She rose and walked to the window, looking out at the dark night.
Grayson’s anger surged. How could she be so damned acquiescent? How dare she act like this was suddenly his plan?
He went to her and grabbed her by the forearms, spinning her around. “Look at me, damn you. You’ve used me. You’ve set me up to be someone I’m not. Now you think to cast me off and wrap up your loose ends. Tell me, Elena, was there no truth between us?”
She stared at him, her dark eyes wide with a mix of fear and wonder. He waited, his heart beating as if his very being hinged on her answer. And it did. If she said she loved him it would change everything.
Chapter 19
“Would it change anything?” Elena whispered in a choked voice. “Do you have to ask if there was anything real between us? Grayson, it is not in me to play the whore. I could not have…” Elena paused, looking for a word.
“Seduced me?” Grayson supplied.
She exhaled heavily, “Yes, seduced you without feeling anything for you. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you but I was lost before any of this began, before I’d heard the rumors.” Was she convincing him? She searched his face for signs but there were none.
/>
“When you were washed up on the beach, you grabbed my hand and held onto it with all the strength you possessed. You wouldn’t let go. Then, when you started to slip away, you squeezed my hand one more time and I couldn’t bear the thought of you not opening those eyes.” Elena’s tears started again, running slowly down her cheeks.
“That’s why you were in bed with me?”
“I didn’t know what else to do! I just wanted to give you my heat.” The words poured out in a rush, her courage returning. This was her chance, her only chance. “Then you woke up and you were more than I dared hope for.”
“A memory-less man waiting to be filled with your stories?”
“No, don’t play the cynic, Grayson, it wasn’t all like that. You were strong and sincere in a way Alejandro never was. Our marriage was arranged and when I turned out to be barren Alejandro ignored me except for the most basic of courtesies. But you cared for me. You showed me every regard. That day in the chapel when you promised me so many things, I knew I’d lost my heart to you.
“Grayson, my affection for you, my passion for you—was never feigned. You are the husband of my heart, no matter what you choose to do. You have my confession and my life is entirely in your hands.” She reached up and kissed his cheek. “You need time alone, Grayson. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Grayson watched her go and took a chair near the fire. When he’d looked out over the harbor that afternoon and seen the ship arrive, he’d not guessed it carried such a life changing passenger. Patrick Flaherty had completely destroyed his little paradise. Only it had never been real.
Now it made sense why the pieces of his life hadn’t fit seamlessly but why he had felt comfortable in the role of a gentleman landowner. He was the heir to an English viscount with a small holding. But he wasn’t, never had been, a Spanish pazo owner. No wonder the stallion had been so skittish. The horse had known the truth.
Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle Page 32