The Helen Bianchin Collection. HELEN BIANCHIN
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a lightness resulting from confinement in hospital for the past ten days, and she allowed herself several shallow breaths in order to drink in the salty smell of the ocean, the cleanliness of unpolluted air.
A few children were at play in the distance, their chatter and laughter barely audible as they darted back and forth, heads bent in their quest for seashells.
It was good to be alive, Elise decided with a slight smile, only to have the smile slowly fade with the realisation that, had Fate been unkind, her loss would have included the right to life of her unborn child.
An arm curved lightly round her waist, and she turned towards him, her eyes wide as she searched his strong, firmly etched features.
Some degree of her inner anguish must have been apparent, for his hold tightened fractionally, and his lips brushed the top of her head.
She was supremely conscious of his close proximity, aware of his warmth, and the security his powerful frame afforded.
They continued walking until Alejandro drew to a halt. ‘This is far enough, I think.’
Elise viewed the short distance they had travelled and wrinkled her nose at him. ‘I feel fine,’ she protested, not wanting to return to the house just yet. ‘Look,’ she exclaimed, as a large golden retriever loped along the water’s edge. ‘Isn’t he beautiful?’ The dog’s movements were poetry in motion, measured lolloping strides that sent his long golden hair flowing back from his young body.
‘Beautiful,’ Alejandro agreed, and when she turned towards him she saw his focus was centred on her, not the dog.
The breath caught in her throat, and for several long seconds her eyes felt impossibly large, then she smiled, a tinge of humour lifting the edges of her generous mouth. ‘I don’t suppose I could persuade you to walk a bit further?’
‘No,’ he refused lazily, and his eyes held amusement as he looked down into her upturned features.
‘So, this is it for today?’
‘Don’t sound so disappointed.’ He lifted a hand and tucked a flyaway lock of hair behind her ear. ‘There’s always tomorrow.’
Without a word she turned slowly and walked back to the house at his side. Once indoors, he led the way through the kitchen. It was warm, and she felt in need of a long, refreshing drink. She watched as he extracted two glasses, filled each with fruit juice, and held one out to her.
‘You have enjoyed your taste of fresh air and sunshine?’
‘I don’t think anyone fully appreciates the choice of freedom to move anywhere at will until that choice is removed.’ She lifted the glass and took a long swallow of the icy liquid, watching as he followed her actions.
There were several chairs and two sun-loungers positioned on the wide, partly covered terrace, and Elise moved outdoors and sank gratefully into one of the loungers. The sun was beginning to lose some of its warmth, although the house provided sufficient protection from the breeze to make sitting outdoors a pleasure.
‘Your face has regained a little colour,’ Alejandro observed as he chose the other lounger close by, and she bore his scrutiny with equanimity.
‘Another two weeks of this, and I’ll resemble a sybarite,’ she said, with a tinge of humour.
‘Your welfare is very important to me.’
The quietly spoken words stirred her sensitised nerve-ends, and she examined his features carefully. ‘I hesitate to think at what cost,’ she ventured slowly.
Something flickered in the depths of his eyes, a fleeting emotion she was unable to define before it was successfully hidden. ‘I retain eminently qualified personnel.’
Whose positions within the Santanas corporation Alejandro would instantly terminate should any one of them fail him in any way. The knowledge was an instinctive judgement that needed no qualification, and she was silent for several long minutes.
‘It’s difficult to comprehend that there was a time when I knew everything about you,’ Elise confessed.
‘While now there are only gaps?’
‘A deep, yawning abyss,’ she corrected with a faint grimace.
‘Which you would like me to fill?’
‘You did that to some extent while I was in hospital.’ Details, facts. Not the personal things she desperately wanted to know.
‘So, querida,’ he mocked gently, searching her intent expression, ‘where would you like me to begin?’
‘I think…with you. Where you were born, when. Your family. Things you enjoy doing.’
‘An extended biography?’
‘The condensed version.’
His eyes held warm humour, and his soft laughter transformed the hard-chiselled bone-structure, so that for a brief moment he appeared almost human, she decided, as he lifted the glass to his lips and drained the contents in one easy swallow.
‘My father was born in Andalucia, the son of a wealthy landowner. My mother was a descendant of the French aristocracy. After their marriage they emigrated to Australia, where I was born. A year later my mother died in childbirth. Papa never fully recovered emotionally, and my paternal grandmother flew out for an extended visit, only to stay on and raise her only grandson. It was because of that good woman’s determined strength that I stayed at school and received the education my father insisted I endure.’
He paused to shoot her a faintly whimsical smile. ‘I was known to display rebellion on occasion.’
Elise had a vivid mental picture of a tall youth whose broad bone-structure had yet to acquire its measure of adult musculature.
‘At university I acquired several degrees associated with business management and became part of my father’s financial empire. At the lowest level,’ Alejandro qualified drily. ‘A Santanas son was accorded few advantages, and I spent several years proving my worth. A fatal accident ended my father’s life, and I was catapulted through the ranks to a position on the board of directors.’ He spared her a faintly cynical glance. ‘The next few years were—difficult, shall we say? Men with years of experience do not view kindly a young man taking control of a string of multinational companies, or making decisions that oppose their way of thinking.’
Elise looked at him thoughtfully, seeing the strength of purpose, the chilling degree of hardness apparent, and barely controlled the faint shiver that threatened to slither down her spine. ‘You succeeded.’ As if there could be any doubt.
His expression did not alter for several long seconds. ‘Yes,’ he acknowledged with wry cynicism.
Had she been his social equal? Somehow she didn’t think so.
‘I have little idea of what my childhood was like,’ she proffered with pensive introspection. ‘The photo albums you brought to the hospital reveal events of which I have no recollection. I can only piece together the visual impression of a happy childhood. A mother I can’t remember, whose passing must surely have caused my father great grief. I don’t even know the extent to which I missed her. Or whether boarding-school was a happy experience or a lonely one.’ She paused, her eyes dark with reflected intensity. ‘I chose paediatric nursing as a career, but I don’t know if I had a boyfriend, or several. Or what sort of life I led before I met you.’
‘I doubt the existence of many boyfriends in other than a platonic sense,’ Alejandro put in with indolent humour. ‘You were relatively inexperienced.’
Her eyes sparked with resentful resignation. ‘A fact you no doubt soon remedied.’
His husky laughter was almost her undoing. ‘With immense pleasure, mi mujer. You proved to be an apt and willing pupil.’ He leaned forward and brushed his mouth against her own, his eyes gleaming with humour as she reared back from his touch. ‘Time to prepare dinner,