The Latin Lover's Secret Child. Jane Porter
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Ana felt a shiver of pleasure race beneath her skin. His touch made her feel hot, brilliant, physical.
“Your love,” he said against her mouth, “is worth everything.”
She held him tightly, pressing her face against his chest. It was such a miracle that they’d found each other. Lucio was a gaucho. She was the daughter of a count. Running off together might be scandalous but it would be the best thing that had ever happened to her.
“You smile,” he said, his fingers tangling in her long dark hair.
And she was smiling. “I wish we were leaving now.”
“I’ll have a horse ready for you later. We’ll ride most of the night.”
She nodded, the bubble of happiness so big and bright it felt like she’d swallowed the sun itself. She lifted her head to better see his face. “Do you think your family will like me?”
“Without a doubt.”
She studied his dark eyes, his almost arrogant expression. Such a proud, noble face. He could have been a Spanish conquistador, an explorer in search of the new world. Instead he was hers.
“I’ll love you forever.”
At first he said nothing. Then his dark eyes grew somber. “You’re only seventeen. Forever is an awfully long time.”
But his cautious tone made her laugh and she gave her head a shake even as her warm laughter danced between them, a shimmer of exuberance. “And tell me, Lucio Cruz, when have I been afraid of anything?”
CHAPTER ONE
Five years later…
“ANABELLA, you’ve been standing at the window all morning. Come sit down. You must be exhausted by now.”
Anabella tensed, her eyes so dry and gritty that it hurt to blink. “I can’t sit. Not until Lucio comes.”
“It could be a while—”
“I don’t care,” she interrupted huskily, her gaze never leaving the snowcapped Andes. It’d been cold the past few days but this morning was lovely. It felt almost like Spring. “He’ll come for me. He promised.”
“But we haven’t been able to reach him yet, Senora, and you’re still weak,” the nurse said coaxingly. “You must give us a chance to find him.”
Anabella didn’t answer. Her hand gripped the gold damask curtain in her hand, fingers trembling. She was tired. Her legs felt oddly weak, her muscles fatigued, but she missed Lucio so much. It’d been forever since she last saw him. Yet he would come for her. Lucio never broke his word.
“You’ve been ill, Senora. You must rest. Conserve your strength.” The nurse continued in the same patient voice one would use for a high-strung horse or a difficult child. “At least sit and have your lunch.”
“I’m not hungry.” Anabella hated how the nurse treated her like a child. Anabella didn’t need someone to tell her to rest, to sleep, to eat. She had a brain. She could think for herself.
Not that they were giving her many opportunities to make decisions for herself.
Like coming to this house. She hadn’t wanted to be here. The hospital had been bad enough with its antiseptic smells like the cool metallic scent of rubbing alcohol, the pungent disinfectant used to mop the shiny floors, the oddly pleasing odorless hand lotion worn by the staff nurses. But then they brought her to this big mausoleum of a place in the middle of vineyards.
The villa was enormous and formal and stuffed with antiques and fine art. It was a place for grand parties and elegant luncheons and business functions. It was another of Dante’s extravagances. He had so many. He was so rich.
Unlike her Lucio.
The only good thing about the house was its proximity to the mountains. And at least from her bedroom window she could see the mountains. Lucio and the mountains were synonymous in her mind. Lucio had grown up in the mountains and his family lived there still.
Her fingers tightened on the silk fabric. “So Dante has called Lucio then?”
The nurse set the clipboard down and her footsteps sounded on the floor. “I don’t know. The Count doesn’t consult with me.” The nurse’s hand settled lightly on Ana’s shoulder. “Shall we finish getting dressed now? Your brother will be here soon. You don’t want to meet him in your nightgown, do you?”
“I don’t want to see him.”
The nurse withdrew her hand. “You didn’t see him yesterday, either.”
Ana’s stomach knotted. “That’s my choice, isn’t it?”
“He’s your brother—”
“And what business is that of yours, anyway?” Anabella turned from the window, her arms folding across her chest and she stared at the nurse in the trim white dress with the neat white hose and shoes. “And why are you even here? I’m fine. I don’t need you. I don’t want the fuss.”
“I’m sorry. It’s your brother’s decision.”
“And you wonder why I don’t want to see him?” Anabella asked bitterly, moving to a deep armchair in the corner of her room and burying herself inside the protective arms.
Dante, Dante, Dante. It was always about Dante. When Dante said jump, people jumped. But Dante didn’t know everything.
Tears stung her eyes and Anabella bent her head, covered her face with her forearm. She felt almost crazy. Her emotions felt so wild, so chaotic and there was a buzz in her head, like the drone of a bee.
“You’re not dressed.”
Ana stiffened at the sound of the deep male voice. So he’d arrived. She glanced up, her gaze meeting her brother’s as he entered her room. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit, a shirt almost the same shade, and no tie. He looked rich, sophisticated, and successful. “I didn’t know I had to dress for you.”
Count Dante Galván glanced at the nurse and she discreetly slipped from the room. He waited until the door was shut. “What’s wrong, Anabella? You’re so angry with everyone lately.”
Her hands balled into defiant fists. “I want Lucio.”
“You don’t want him,” he corrected sternly. “Trust me, Ana, you don’t want—”
“You’re wrong!” She slammed her fists on the upholstered arms of the chair. “I do want him. I love him. I miss him—” her voice broke and she shook her head, frustrated, furious, unable to bear Dante’s grim expression. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know what it was like to love someone and yet be denied that person.
“You left him, Anabella.” Dante’s voice sounded flat. “It was your choice. You realized you didn’t have anything in common. You realized you needed something else, something different than what he could provide.”
“Stop!” He was making her sick and cold and she longed to take the soft afghan from the foot of the bed and wrap it around her. “You’re telling me lies. You’re trying to confuse me. But it won’t work this time. I know the truth. Lucio loves me.”
“That’s not the point, Ana!”
“It’s exactly the point.” Her teeth began to chatter. She rubbed her hands along her upper arms trying to get warm, trying to silence the small, frightened voice inside her. Lucio was coming back, wasn’t he? He wouldn’t leave her here with Dante, would he?
“You’re cold.” Dante moved forward, lifting the crimson blanket from the bed and covering Ana’s shoulders. He tucked the edges of the soft, fuzzy blanket around her before touching her forehead. “You’re icy. You need to be resting, Ana. You’ve worn yourself out.”
“I can’t rest.” Teeth chattering she