His Suitable Bride(147)

‘Just a dance, belleza. Is that too much to ask?’

And when he smiled down at her she knew she was lost and there was only one answer she could give.

‘No, of course it’s not too much.’

Just a dance … But would that dance mark an ending or a beginning? She only knew that she would not be able to rest until she found out.





CHAPTER FIVE


AN ENDING OR a beginning?

The reception was over, everyone had left, but she still had no idea of what the answer to her question could be.

Alexa hurried down the curving stone steps that led from the terrace to the swimming pool, anxious to get onto the lower level of the garden where she would be hidden from sight by the shadows and the darkness. She needed time on her own to snatch in deep, much needed breaths of air, cool her burning cheeks, and hopefully calm the racing pulse that was throbbing at her temples and making her heart thud against the walls of her chest.

She needed time to think. Time to collect her thoughts and try to bring them under some sort of control.

Reaching the tiled area that surrounded the pool, she settled down on one of the wooden seats and kicked off the crippling shoes, sighing deeply as her cramped toes were freed and the pressure of the straps over her feet eased. If only she could ease the confusion in her mind as easily.

She was supposed to be the sensible one—the level-headed, thoughtful, grown-up daughter of the Montague family. She had never felt this way before. Never known anything like the explosion of sensation that had blown up right in her face in the time she had known Santos Cordero.

‘Time? What time?’ Alexa asked herself on a shaken laugh, lifting her face to stare up at the moon that shone its cool, clear light down onto the still water of the pool. She had barely known Santos more than a day, had only been in his company for a few hours at most, and yet somehow he had rocked her world and her sense of any sort of reality.

Nothing in the few gentle relationships—she could hardly even call them romances—that she had experienced had ever knocked her off her feet like this. Nothing had prepared her for the sensation of being emotionally whirled up into the air, spun round and round and finally dropped back down to earth to find that nothing at all was the same as it had been before.

And that was why she was here, in the darkness, trying to snatch some deep, calming breaths, trying to centre herself again, trying to see if she could find the Alexa she thought she was, or discover whether that Alexa had been totally destroyed by the passionate, sensual volcano that had suddenly erupted inside her head and her heart.

And all for the worst possible man in the whole world. A man she neither trusted nor truly liked. A man who lived up to his nickname of el brigante in both his business life and, it seemed, his private one.

‘Alexandra?’

The voice, male, beautifully accented, came from above her, from the terrace that she had just left. Of course, she knew instantly who it was. Already that tone, that accent, the true sound of his voice was etched onto her brain, impossible now to hope to erase.

‘Alexa!’

She wanted to stay silent, stay hidden. She didn’t feel ready to face him, particularly not now when she was alone with him, when there was no one else here; no one to dilute the powerful impact of his presence.

She’d watched the fleet of elegant cars arrive at the door of the house, watched all the other guests get in and drive away, and all the time Santos had kept her by his side, his hand on her arm, as he said goodbye, shook hands, watched them leave. Each time a new car had appeared she had hoped that this would be her chance to escape. To leave and hurry back to the hotel, where she would be able to go to the haven of her room and sit quietly, reflecting on all that had happened.

She had to wait for a car because as a bridesmaid she hadn’t brought a bag with her, no money—nothing. So she was totally dependent on whatever Santos might decide.

But never once had Santos turned to her, held the car door open, helped her into it. Instead he had seemed oblivious of her presence at his side until she had finally had enough and stepped forward, tugging on his arm.

‘I hope you have a car for me soon,’ she’d begun, the need to be gone making her voice rough and uneven. ‘I need to get back …’

The words died on her tongue as she saw his glittering eyes flash over her in cool assessment as he shook his dark head.

‘Not yet.’

‘Not yet?’ she could only echo in shock and consternation. ‘What do you mean, not yet?’

‘We have things to discuss,’ he’d said.

‘We do?’

That dark head moved in agreement and he reached out to touch one finger to her cheek.