Uncovering Her Nine Month Secret(51)

Every moment I spent with him, I was falling deeper and deeper into an emotion I’d sworn I’d never feel for him again. Especially since I knew he was lying to my face. I was walking straight into heartbreak, only this time, I’d have no one to blame but myself.

Abruptly, I stopped in the middle of the hallway.

He frowned down at me. “What, querida?”

I looked at him, my heart aching. “I need to know what you’re hiding from me.”

Setting his jaw, he shook his head.

“I wish I’d never told you,” he said harshly. Dropping my hand, he looked at me with cold eyes. “Should we spend dinner apart?”

He was ruthlessly ending the conversation. Swallowing back tears, I shook my head. He held out his arm again.

We walked, the only sound our footsteps against the flagstones. “I wonder why Maurine insisted that we dress up for dinner tonight,” I said over the awkward silence. “I just saw her wearing an old cardigan and jeans....”

We entered the banqueting hall, and my voice cut off.

It was completely empty of other people. The only light came from the blazing fire in the enormous stone fireplace. Tall tapered candles lit the table. Beneath the high, timbered ceilings, the shadows and fire made the room breathlessly romantic.

I blinked, bewildered. “This is why Maurine wanted us to dress for dinner...?” Then Alejandro gave me a sensual smile, and it all clicked into place. “You arranged this,” I breathed.

He shrugged. “I spoke with her before we left this morning, and she agreed newlyweds need time alone.”

“But what about dinner for everyone else?”

“They already ate.” He came closer, his dark eyes intent. “And I’m glad,” he said huskily. “I want you to myself.”

I stared at him, still conflicted about the way he’d coldly cut off my earlier question. Going to the table, he poured us each a glass of red wine that sparkled like a ruby in the firelight.

“Manzanilla wine. From my vineyard.”

As we sat next to each other at the end of the long table, near the fire, I felt my anger starting to be melted by his nearness. The dinner was probably delicious, but I ate mechanically, barely tasting it. Alejandro moved his chair closer. He did not try to touch me. He started asking me questions, asking what I thought of Spain, how I liked the estate, how I liked the baby’s nursery. He asked me how I’d first started painting.

“My father taught me,” I said softly. “He always wanted to be an artist. But once he got married and had a family, he had to try to earn a living....” I gave a rueful laugh. “He was never good at earning money. But we loved him, just as he was.”

Alejandro leaned forward, his elbow on the table, his chin resting on his hand, listening to every word. He focused his attention on me, as if nothing and no one else existed.

I knew how this worked. I’d seen it before. And yet I still could not resist. With every breath I felt him seducing me, drawing me in closer. Against my will, my heart started to warm.

The enormous banqueting hall, usually chilly inside the castle even on a hot summer day, was growing increasingly hot. I found myself leaning forward, asking him questions in my turn, and all the while wishing he would kiss me, and hating myself for wanting it. Finally, I could bear it no longer.

“Why can’t you tell me your secret?”

“Put it from your mind,” he said harshly. “Or go.”

“Fine,” I said tearfully. I stood, turning away.

He grabbed me by the wrist.

Slowly, Alejandro rose from the chair, his body grazing mine as he fully stood, towering over me. My head tilted back to look at his face. He was bigger than me, stronger by far. But it wasn’t his strength that overwhelmed me, but the stark vulnerability I suddenly saw in his hard, handsome face.

“This is all you need to know,” he whispered.

He pushed me against the edge of the stone fireplace, holding my wrists above me, kissing my lips, my throat. Closing my eyes, I tilted back my head as waves of desire crashed over me.

“I want you, Lena,” he whispered, his voice husky, his lips brushing my earlobe. “Te deseo.”

I shivered. Then remembered why I was mad at him and tried to pull away. “I—I am dusty and sweaty from the road.” I gave a casual laugh that no one would believe, least of all me. “I rushed downstairs because I didn’t want to be late.” He continued to kiss my face, and I closed my eyes, breathing, “But I should...really...go take a bath....”

“Bien,” he purred. “I’ll join you.”

My eyes flew open. “A shower, I mean, not a bath,” I stammered. “There’s not much room in the shower for two....”