One Night Of Consequences Collection. Annie West
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in an apron and holding a spoon. She waved at us merrily. I saw the bodyguards greeting her with obvious affection as they went into the grand stone entrance of the castle.
“Another housekeeper?” I said faintly.
“My grandmother,” he said.
“Your—” I whirled to face him, but he had already opened his door and was getting out of the car, gently lifting Miguel out of his baby seat. Nervously, I got out of the car, too, wondering what the dowager Duchess of Alzacar would make of me.
“Come in, come in,” she said to the bodyguards, shooing them inside. She kept switching from English to Spanish as if she couldn’t quite make up her mind. “Knowing Alejandro, I’m sure you didn’t stop for any lunch, so everything is ready if you’ll just go straight to the banqueting hall...”
“Abuela,” Alejandro said, smiling, “I’d like you to meet my son. His name is Miguel.”
“Miguel?” she gasped, looking from him to Alejandro.
He blinked with a slight frown, shaking his head. “And this is my new wife. Lena.”
“I’m so happy to meet you.” Smoothing one hand over her apron, she turned to me with a warm smile, lifting the wooden spoon high, like a benign domestic fairy about to grant a really good wish. “And your sweet baby! I can hardly wait to...” Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “Your new what?”
Coming over to me, Alejandro put his free arm around my shoulders. “My wife.”
She lowered her spoon and looked me over, from my long hair to my soft white blouse with the Peter Pan collar, to my slim-cut jeans and ballet flats. I braced myself for criticism.
Instead, she beamed at me, spreading her arms wide.
“Oh, my dear,” she cried, “welcome to the family. Welcome to your new home!”
And she threw her arms around me in a big, fierce, welcoming hug.
Shocked, I stiffened. Then I patted her awkwardly on the back.
“But I’m being silly,” she said, drawing back, wiping her eyes with her brightly colored apron. “My name is Maurine. But please call me Abuela, if you like, as Alejandro does. Or Grandma. Or Nana. Whatever. I’m just so happy you’re here!”
“Thank you,” I said, unsure how to handle such immediate warmth and kindness.
“But you—” she whirled on her grandson with a scowl “—you should have known better than to elope!”
Alejandro looked abashed. It was a funny, boyish expression on his masculine face. “We would have waited and had a proper wedding,” he said, rubbing his neck sheepishly, “but Abuela, it happened so quickly....”
“Huh. Don’t think you’re getting off that easy. We’ll talk about it later. Now—” her plump face softened as her eyes lit up “—let me hold that baby.”
Ten minutes later, Maurine was giving me a speed tour of the castle, on the way to the dining hall. “The foundations of Rohares date from the times of the sultan,” she said happily. “But most of the building dates from the early seventeenth century. It was bombed in the war, then when we came back we had no money and it fell into disrepair.” She looked sad, then brightened, smiling up at her grandson. “But Alejandro made his fortune in Madrid, then restored every part of it, made Rohares better than it had ever been before! And here’s where we’ll have lunch....”
I stopped in the huge doorway of an enormous dining hall that looked as if it came from the late Renaissance, complete with soaring frescoed ceilings, suits of armor beside the ancient tapestries and a stone fireplace tall enough to fit a person inside. And at the center of the huge, gymnasium-size room, there was a long wooden dining table, large enough to seat forty or fifty people, and groaning beneath the weight of the luncheon spread, flower arrangements, and place settings carefully designed with fine china and the brightest decor.
My mouth dropped as I stared at it.
“Cold and drafty, sí?” Alejandro said smugly, grabbing a marinated green olive and piece of cheese off the platter on the table. “Just as you said.”
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” I breathed. “And the food...”
He gave a low chuckle. “Abuela believes food is love.”
“I can see that,” I said faintly, staring up at his face.
I left because I was falling in love with you.
My knees were still weak at what he’d said in the car. It was so far from everything I’d ever imagined, I couldn’t believe I’d heard him right. “Alejandro...”
“Abuela can be bossy about it, but she loves nothing more than taking care of people, along with her garden and home.” He grinned, shaking his head ruefully. “She now has an unlimited budget, a clear schedule—now she’s given up her charity work—and infinite time. When it comes to the domestic arts, she is unstoppable.”
“Amazing.” I looked at him hesitantly. “But Alejandro...”
“Yes?”
“Did you mean what you said?”
His dark eyes met mine. He knew what I was talking about. “Don’t be afraid. As you said—much has changed in this past year.”
I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath, but at that, I exhaled, like air fizzing out of a tire. “You’re right,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Everything is different now.”
“The past is past. Now we are partners, parents to our son.”
“Exactly.” I looked away. The bodyguards, apparently accustomed to being fed lunch like this by the dowager duchess, were already at the table, filling their plates and murmuring their appreciation.
Maurine suddenly reappeared in the solid-oak doorway, holding Miguel with one hand, a small card in the other. Going to the table, she snatched a card off a place setting, then replaced it with the new card. Turning back, she patted the chair, beaming at me. “You’re to sit here, dear.”
“Oh. Thank you, Maurine.”
Smiling, she looked at Miguel in her arms, and started another peekaboo game. She’d been lost in baby joy from the instant she’d picked him up in her arms, and the love appeared to be mutual. I watched, smiling, as Maurine hid her face with her hand, before revealing it so Miguel could reach out to bat her nose triumphantly, leaving them both in hopeless squeals of laughter. Alejandro watched them, too.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
“For what?”
His dark eyes met mine. “For coming to Spain like you promised.”
“Oh.” My cheeks flooded with shame to remember how I’d initially refused. “It’s, um, nothing.”
He turned away, watching his grandmother play with his son. “It’s everything to me.”
My blush deepened, then I sighed. “I was wrong to fight it,” I admitted.
“You? Wrong?” Alejandro shook his head. “Impossible.”
I scowled at his teasing tone. “Yes, wrong. I’m woman enough to admit it. After all, Maurine is Miguel’s family, too.” I looked around the huge banqueting hall, filled with antiques that seemed hundreds of years old. I had to crane my head back to see the wood-timbered ceiling, with its faded paintings of the ducal coat of arms. “And this is his legacy,” I said softly. “This will all belong to him someday....”
Alejandro was no longer smiling.
“Yes,” he said. “It will.”
For some reason I didn’t understand, the lightness of the mood had fled. I frowned.
He abruptly