Would it be so forbidden, so foolish, to trust my husband with my heart?
If only I knew the lie he was telling me, or had told, or would tell. He said he’d been faithful to me for a year, that he’d never be disloyal.
Of course, that could be the lie....
My lips pressed together, and I grimly pushed the thought away. I told myself that, since he’d shared so much of his body, surely he’d soon find it irresistible to share the secrets of his heart. And then I forced myself not to think about it.
Denial is a beautiful thing. A woman in love can be very good at focusing on the rose and ignoring the thorn—at least until it draws blood. Over breakfast, I kept smiling at Alejandro over my plate of eggs and jamón, my coffee diluted with tons of cream and sugar. And instead of treating me like a lovesick fool, as I no doubt looked like, Alejandro, the dark, dangerous, ruthless duke, did the unthinkable.
He kept smiling back.
“I’d like to take you around the estate today,” he said, sipping his black coffee and reading the morning newspaper, “to meet my tenants.”
“What?” I nearly dropped the baby rattle I’d been holding out for Miguel, who was sitting in my lap. Chortling, the baby grabbed it in his fat little fist and triumphantly began to shake. “I thought I’d meet them at the wedding reception.”
“Abuela told me it will take her two months to plan the reception. We cannot wait that long.” His eyes met mine. He seemed to sense my fear, because he gave me an encouraging smile. “You are my wife. It is right that I introduce you to the tenants on the estate. That is the merest good manners.”
“But...”
“Besides. Knowing Abuela, the reception will be a lavish affair, to impress acquaintances and friends. I want the first introduction to be private. Personal.” He paused. “Many of them have been farming this land for generations. They might have heard rumors. They might think that having a baby first, and getting married second, is a little...”
“Modern?” I supplied.
“Yes. Modern. I don’t want them to wonder if this is a real marriage, or if we’ll stand the test of time.”
“Will we?” I whispered.
“We will,” he said seriously, looking straight into my eyes. “And I want them to have no doubt you are here to stay.” Leaning forward, he took my hand in his own. “I want them to think well of you, as I do.” He looked at me. “Will you meet them?”
Having Alejandro look at me with his deep dark eyes, and hold my hand, and ask me something, in his husky voice, there was no possibility of resistance. No matter how the thought of trying to impress a bunch of strangers and convince them I would make an excellent duquesa filled me with dread. What if they thought I wasn’t good enough? What if they had such deep doubts, Alejandro changed his mind about me and decided to find some other wife more worthy? “All right,” I said hesitantly. “If you think it truly necessary.”
“I do.” Alejandro’s eyes softened as he looked at our baby. “I’d like Miguel to come, as well. Because he is their future. And they are his.”
I bit my lip, trying my best not to look nervous. “Right. Four hundred years on this land, right? So it’s in Miguel’s blood.”
“Something like that.” Alejandro put down his napkin and rose to his feet. “We’ll see the Widow Ramirez first. She was my governess, once.”
The thought warmed my heart. “She taught you as a child?”
“Both me and the...housekeeper’s son.”
“You mean Miguel,” I said softly. “Your friend.”
“Yes. We played together as children, studied together, fought. It didn’t matter that one of us was a future duke and the other just the housekeeper’s son. We studied the same subjects, lived in the same house. We both loved Abuela. We were friends. Until Miguel died that day.”
“And you survived,” I said gently, touching his shoulder.
“Yes. I survived.” He turned away. “I’ll get the keys.”
I finished my breakfast and my orange juice. When Alejandro returned, he said, “Señora Ramirez is no longer as sharp as she used to be, but she still has a lot of influence with the other tenants.”
“No pressure,” I muttered, my heart suddenly cold with fear. I looked down at my pink shirt and floppy cotton skirt. “Maybe I should change.”
He barely glanced at me. “You’re fine.”
“I want them to like me....”
Alejandro laughed. “Fancy clothes won’t make them like you. In fact, if you showed up in a designer dress and five-inch stiletto heels, they’d like you less. The farmers respect honesty, hard work and kindness when it’s called for. Bluntness when it’s not.” His dark eyes gleamed. “You should get along just fine.”