One Night Of Consequences Collection. Annie West
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in the moonlight. “That was why you said you’re no good at keeping promises,” I whispered. “Because you had a child. And then you married me. I thought...” I shook my head. “I thought you meant you could never keep your promises of fidelity....”
“That I would cheat on you?” he said incredulously. He came closer, his face blazing with emotion as he reached out to cup my cheek. “From the moment we met, you’ve been the only woman I wanted. Even for the year we were apart—there was no one else for me. No one.”
“But...when I told you I loved you...”
He gave a low, humorless laugh. He shook his head. “You really don’t understand, do you? When I promised myself I’d never marry or have a child, I made sure I would keep that promise by only allowing myself to date women like Claudie...cold, sophisticated, heartless women I’d never be tempted to love. You were different. You were the woman I could not resist,” he said softly. “You made me break every promise I’d made to myself. I wanted to tell you everything. Where you were concerned, I had no self-control.”
I stared up at him, my lips parted.
“When I heard you were pregnant with my child, I was desperate to find you. But once I did, and we were wed, I suddenly knew I’d never be able to tell you the truth. At first, because I was afraid you’d use the information to blackmail me, and try to take my son away. Then because I owed it to Miguel. You were so proud our son would someday be a duke....”
“I never cared about that!” I said fiercely. “All I care about is you. And Miguel...” I looked up at him with an intake of breath. “Your real name is Miguel.”
He gave me a wicked grin. “You can see why I didn’t mind our son’s name.”
My knees shook, because my world was spinning. “But after we were married—surely then you knew you could trust me?”
“You have such an honest heart.” He sobered. “I didn’t want you to have the burden.”
“Burden? Are you kidding?” I gave a laugh that was giddy, almost hysterical. “If you knew what I’d imagined...”
“It’s worse than you think.” His face had turned deadly serious. “My grandmother and I both broke laws with our lies. We could be charged with fraud and possibly sent to prison. For myself, I would have been willing to take the risk, to tell you the truth. But Maurine...” He looked down. “I was afraid to take the risk, for her sake. The idea of her in jail...”
A sudden noise down the quiet street, perhaps a cat knocking over a trash can in a nearby alley, caused us both to jump. I looked at him.
“You can trust me. No one will ever know.” I swallowed and whispered. “Did you really mean what you said in the tavern?”
“The song?”
“That you—” I blushed a little “—actually—love me?”
His eyes went wide. Then, with a low laugh, he pulled me in his arms.
“Oh, querida. I have loved you from almost the first moment we met. Your sweetness, your nobility, your honesty.”
“I was so afraid.... I believed all the wrong things....”
Alejandro wrapped his hands around mine. “And now you hold my heart, my life, in your hands,” he said quietly. “You have the power to take Miguel from me, to go back to Mexico, to walk away.” He lifted his dark gaze to mine in the moonlight. “You own me completely. What will you do?”
“What will I do?” I whispered, tears in my eyes. Putting my arms around him, I pulled him close and pressed my forehead against his heart. “I will love you, Alejandro. Forever.”
WE ROSE FOR a late breakfast the next morning, after a night in our hotel room with much giggling and even more lovemaking. As eager as I was to see our baby after a whole night away from him, I was also lingering, enjoying every last moment of this brief, perfect honeymoon.
No one would ever be able to part us again.
“I think,” Alejandro said thoughtfully as we left the hotel, “that was the best honeymoon I’ve ever had.”
“Best and only,” I said.
“No, surely not only. Our marriage will be nothing but one long honeymoon,” he said huskily, then to prove it, he kissed me. The kiss soon became so intense and deep that Alejandro muttered something about renting the room for another night, and started to pull me back toward the hotel.
“But we can’t!” I protested with a laugh. “Miguel...”
“All right,” he grumbled, then his eyes smoldered. “But I’m taking you back to our bedroom as fast as the car will go.”
But at my request, we returned to Rohares the long way. He took me to the spot where legend said Boabdil, the last sultan of Spain, took his very last look at Granada, after he was forced to cede it to Spanish King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella.
“Oh, no. I left the guidebook at the hotel,” I said sadly, then brightened. “But I left my name in it. Hopefully they’ll find it and call.”
“A guidebook? Get another one!”
“It’s a souvenir,” I whispered, “of the happiest night of my life.”
He kissed me, then standing on the hill, we looked back at Granada. “They say Boabdil wept when he looked his last upon his city,” I said wistfully. “And his mother mocked his tears. She sneered that he was weeping like a woman for what he could not fight for as a man. Can you believe that?”
“People can say hurtful things to those they love,” Alejandro said quietly. “Especially when they’re backed into a corner and their own hearts are breaking.”
As we drove back home, I suddenly realized Alejandro was right. I thought of all my anguished years feeling lonely in London, wishing hopelessly for my grandmother, my uncle and Claudie to love me. But they could not, because they did not know how. Instead, they’d relentlessly pursued the wrong things, luxury and status and appearance. They’d never known that the only way to gain happiness was not only to follow your heart, but to give it away.
Leaning over, Alejandro took my hand. Bringing it to his lips, he fervently kissed it. My eyes blurred with tears as I smiled at him, thinking how lucky I was.
And that was the moment I forgave my family for not loving me. Sometimes, I thought, you have to make your own family.
Blushing, I said shyly, “So what do I call you now?”
He looked at me. “I’ve grown fond of Alejandro. I’ll let my son keep Miguel.” He turned away, facing the road. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “After we get back, I’m going to talk to a lawyer. I’ll see if there’s any way to renounce the title without causing risk to Maurine.” He looked at me. “But it seems so much to ask of you.”
“What?”
“Would you be heartbroken to give up the title of duchess—and know Miguel would never be a duke?”
“Are you kidding?” I gave a low laugh. “I’m happy to give it up. Do you really think I’m duchess material?”
He looked at me seriously. “Yes, mi amor. Yes.”
“I’m happy as your wife,” I whispered. “However that may be.” And he squeezed my hand in his.
When we arrived at Rohares Castle, we hugged our baby and Maurine, who immediately started telling us every small detail of their extremely uneventful night, which mostly involved patty-cake and Miguel dozing as his great-grandmother read him Washington Irving’s Tales of the Alhambra. “So Miguel felt part of the experience, too. It seemed appropriate....”