One Night: Latin Heat: Uncovering Her Nine Month Secret / One Night With The Enemy / One Night with Morelli. Jennie Lucas
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SEVEN
TONIGHT, YOU WILL be in my bed.
Tonight, you will be my wife.
The day raced by. I could not hold the hours back. The clock was ticking and when night fell, I knew he would take me, if not against my will, then at least against my heart.
The dinner table was busy and crowded and happy, because apparently Maurine, the daughter of American-Basque sheep ranchers, had gotten into the habit of eating with her entire household staff, many of whom lived in cottages on the edge of the Rohares estate, and their wives and children were always welcome, as well. Freshly made breads, fruit and cheese were spread across the table in a feast that also included meats, stews and seafood paella, and all kinds of desserts, tortas to galletas.
“You should see it on holidays,” Maurine said to me with a smile, when she saw my eyes widen at the crowd that completely filled all the chairs at the table in the dining hall. “Then, everyone invites their extended families as well, and they come from all over Andalucía.”
“Where on earth do they sit?”
Maurine’s smile lifted to a grin. “We have to bring all the tables out of the attic and extra rooms, and bring in every antique chair we’ve got, and the old benches and chests.”
“Nice,” I murmured. I exhaled. “This place is amazing.”
“Because of Alejandro.” She looked a few places down the table, to where he was holding court with our baby son in his lap, introducing him to the families of household staff. The women were clustered around him, as if to offer obeisance to a visiting pasha. “He is my whole world. I owe him everything.”
“I bet he’d say he owes everything to you. And looking at all this—” I looked at the food, at the decorations, at the care taken with all the details “—I’d have to agree.”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head vehemently. “If not for him, I never would have survived the aftermath of that car crash, when I lost my whole family....”
“I’m so sorry,” I murmured. “I heard about that. Losing your son and daughter-in-law, and even the housekeeper and her son.... I can’t imagine how awful. But Alejandro lived.”
“That’s right. Yes.” Shuddering, she closed her eyes. “He saved me. I can still see him in the hospital, his little, injured face covered with bandages, his eyes so bright. Bones in his face had been broken, and he’d never look the same, but he was worried about me, not himself. ‘It’ll be all right, Abuela,’ he told me. ‘I’m your family now.’” She blinked fast, her eyes sparkling with tears. “He gave me something to live for, when I wanted to die. And more.” She shook her head. “He saved this castle. Even at twelve years old, he was determined to win back our family’s lost fortune. He knew he could do it. And he wasn’t afraid.”
“No.” Alejandro wasn’t afraid of anything. And he always got what he wanted. I shivered, remembering the dark promise in his eyes in the garden. Tonight, you will be in my bed. Tonight, you will be my wife.... I pushed the memory away. “How did he build a fortune out of nothing?”
“He went to Madrid at seventeen,” Maurine said. “Worked eighteen-hour days, three different jobs. He took all the money he earned and poured it into risky investments that somehow paid off. He wasn’t afraid to gamble. Or work. It just goes to show that nobility is in the heart,” she said softly, almost as if she were talking to herself, “not the blood.”
I snorted. “What are you talking about? He’s the son of a duke. It doesn’t get more noble than that.”
Maurine abruptly focused her gaze on me. “Of course. That’s what I meant. He’s noble by birth.”
Was she confused, or was she just confusing me? “Did people give you a hard time because of your background? I mean—” I shook my head awkwardly “—Alejandro said you grew up in the U.S., the daughter of sheep ranchers...”
“Shepherds, actually,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye.
“Exactly. You were a regular girl—then you married a duke.” I paused, trying to form the right words. “Did all the other aristocrats treat you badly? Did they call you a gold digger?”
“Me? No.” She blinked, and her expression abruptly changed. “Oh, my dear. Is that what’s been happening to you?”
I felt the color drain from my cheeks. “No, I...”
“Oh, you poor child.” Her plump, wrinkled face was sympathetic, her blue eyes kind. She reached over and patted my hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll triumph over all the ugly, silly words that people can say. Alejandro loves you. And you love him. That’s what matters.”
Now my cheeks went hot. “Uh...”
“And I’m so happy you’re part of our family.” She gave my hand a little squeeze, then chuckled. “I was a little worried. You should have seen the women he dated before you. He didn’t bring a single one home. For good reason. He knew I’d skewer them.”
“I’m the first woman he ever brought home?” I said faintly.
She nodded. Her gaze became shadowed as she looked at Alejandro farther down the table. “I was starting to think he’d never let any woman into his heart. That he’d never let anyone know who he truly is.” She gave me a sudden sharp look. “But you know. Don’t you?”
I furrowed my brow. Was she talking about a biblical knowing? Otherwise I didn’t really understand. “Um, yes?”
She stared at me, then releasing my hand, abruptly turned away. “How did you like the rose garden?”
I shivered in spite of myself. “It is...very beautiful,” I managed. “Like paradise. But what were you saying about Alejandro...?”
Maurine’s eyes shadowed. She bit her lip. “I can’t believe you don’t know. But if you don’t, he has to be the one to...”
“Querida,” I heard Alejandro say behind me. “It is time for bed.”
Seriously? He was announcing this in front of his grandmother and the whole table? I turned with a scowl, then saw him holding up our sleepy-eyed son. Oh. He meant Miguel. With dinner served so late in Spain, it was past our baby’s bedtime, and he was yawning in Alejandro’s arms, causing dimples in his fat little cheeks. “Right.” I held out my arms. “I need to give him a bath first....”
But Alejandro shook his head. He wasn’t letting me escape so easily. “I’ll help you. It’s time I learned to do these things as well, don’t you think?”
The gleam in his black eyes told me he knew I was scrambling to think of a way to avoid being alone with him tonight. Wondering if I could find a door with a lock. Surely there had to be one in this castle, with its choice of approximately five million rooms. I shook my head with an awkward laugh. “You don’t want to learn how to give a baby his bath and put him to bed, Your Excellency!”
He snorted at that last bit. “A man needs to know how to take care of his own son.” He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Don’t you agree?”
“Yes,” I grumbled.
“Such a good father,” Maurine sighed.
I narrowed my eyes, then gave him a smile. “I’ll show you how to change his diaper, too,” I said sweetly.
He gave me a crooked grin. “Excelente.”
A moment later, we were walking down the dark hallways, the noise of the happy dinner party receding behind us, beneath the thick inner walls of the castle.
“This way,” he said, placing his fingertips innocently on the base of my spine to guide me. I trembled.
Tonight, you will be in my bed.
Tonight, you will be my wife.
“Our