"So you're my wife, are you? Well, that's interesting!"
Eyes the color of a storm-heavy sky raked over Louise's slender figure as she
stood in the doorway of her cottage, so transfixed by shock that she was unable
to move. Even the jeans and warm cherry-red sweater she wore were suddenly no
protection against the cold.
"Tell me, mi esposa —" he laced the words with dark satire "— when
exactly were you going to inform me of this fact?"
"I wasn't.…'"
It was all that Louise could manage. In the moments since she had opened the
front door in response to an imperious and impatient sounding knock, she barely
recognized her world in the center of the emotional tornado that whirled around
her.
But she certainly recognized the man who stood on her doorstep. Eight years was
a long time, but she would always know Alex anywhere. His sort of superb bone
structure only got better with age. He was too tall, too dark, too imposing —
too devastating physically — ever to forget, even if she didn't have deeply
personal reasons for never being able to put him out of her mind.
"You weren't?"
The darkly satirical tone deepened on the question.
"You weren't going to tell me — your husband — of this secret marriage?
Didn't you think that would be wise, or at least courteous, querida?"
"No."
It was the honest truth. She had certainly never thought that her foolish and
impulsive declaration would ever have been believed by anyone. And she had
definitely never thought that it would reach the ears of Alex Anderson — Alex
Alcolar, as she supposed she must now think of him since he had taken his
father's name. He was hundreds of miles away, living his new life in Spain. He
would never hear of her, or spare her a thought, let alone give a damn about the
unthinking cover-up she had used in a moment of crisis.
But it seemed that he had. And what had been purely and simply an impulsive act
of defence had turned into another unneeded complication in her life.
The worst sort of complication of all. She did not want Alex back in her
life.
"I wasn't going to tell you any of it. So who did?"
Alex shrugged broad shoulders under a fine leather jacket.
"I don't know. I received an anonymous letter, posted in this village, telling
me that I was neglecting my wife. The wife I didn't know I had. So naturally I
came as quickly as I could."
"But you must have known that the 'marriage' wasn't a real one. And that it had
nothing to do with you."
"Nothing?" His echoing of the word was riddled with scepticism and mockery. "If
you're using my name, claiming to be my wife, then I think it has everything to
do with me. As I recall, when you knew me before, your father didn't think I was
fit to associate with your family, and you ended up swallowing everything he
said. Now suddenly you're claiming to be married to me! So I think you'd better
start explaining. Start by telling me where, exactly, this wedding took place."
"You don't really need me to answer that do you?" Louise tossed at him, hazel
eyes sparking defiance. "Because you know where — exactly. Nowhere! The
wedding didn't take place anywhere. As you are only too aware, there was no
wedding ever!"
To her surprise he actually smiled, the curve of his lips and the light in his
clear gray eyes brightening his whole face and making her stomach turn over, her
pulse quicken in instant response.
"I'm glad to hear that. I was beginning to wonder if my mind was going. Or at
least my memory — because I have no recollection…"
"Of course you don't! And there's nothing wrong with your mind, as you know only
too well. You've not forgotten anything. In fact, you must have known that all
this was nonsense in the first place — so why, exactly, are you here now? What
on earth made you travel all the way from — from…"
"From Andalusia," Alex supplied. "That's where I live now."
"Of course. That's why you're suddenly littering your conversation with Spanish
phrases!"
The Alex she had once known hadn't spoken a word of Spanish. He hadn't even
known that he had any Spanish connections — that the blood of a Spanish
aristocrat ran in his veins. It had only been after his mother had died that he
had discovered the truth about his father.
"I am Spanish," Alex put in coldly. "At least, half-Spanish. My father is
Spanish. My home and my work are in Andalusia. Most days I speak nothing but
Spanish."
"Which makes it all the more puzzling why you've bothered to come here.…"
And that was a question that he had been asking himself for days, Alex admitted.
Why was he travelling to England on what was little more than a whim?
Why had he snatched at the smallest excuse to get on a plane and head
straight back to the village where he had grown up? The village that he believed
he had left far behind in his past, where it belonged. He thought he'd shaken
the dust of the place from his feet and that he would never, ever go back to the
woman who had once almost destroyed his life — and yet now here he was.
So why?
Because he couldn't help himself.
"I wanted to meet the woman who claimed to be my wife."
His beautiful mouth curved into a smile that made Louise's blood run cold.
"I wanted to see what had become of you."
"Nothing exciting as you can see. In fact nothing at all!"
The rather wild hand gesture took in herself and her surroundings, betraying
more than she wanted to reveal. These were not at all the conditions in which
she had lived in the past. And she knew from the way that Alex's eyes narrowed
swiftly that he, too, was remembering how it had once been.
"What happened?"
It was cold, crisp, incisive. She didn't want to answer, but she knew he
wouldn't let her dodge the question.
"Do you mean why am I here, in this cottage, instead of up at the manor house
where I used to be? Things change, Alex! Nothing remains the same."
"You have," he put in sharply. "You haven't changed. You're still as beautiful
as ever."
It was the last thing she expected, and it hit her with the force of a blow to
her chest, driving all the breath from her body. And what made matters worse was
the new and disturbing darkness that hadn't been there before in those gray
eyes. A darkness that spoke of physical arousal and a smouldering sensuality
that stirred memories she had thought long buried.
Memories she wanted to stay hidden.
"No…" she managed huskily, not at all sure precisely what she was saying no to.
"Yes," Alex countered, the single word rough on his tongue. "You're just as
lovely as you always were. More, if that were possible…"
The single step he took forward broke the spell that seemed to have coiled
around her. It brought him too close. Too near. Another couple of movements and
he would have been right here in her house — her home — and that would be
more than she could bear.
"No!" she cried, much more emphatically this time.
And whirling she dashed into the cottage, slamming the door right in his face.
"Go away!" she shouted, praying her words would reach him through the thickness
of the wooden barrier. "I don't want you here!"
The silence was unexpected and disturbing. Could he really have gone? Could it
have been that easy?
It wasn't.
She barely had time to even think about relaxing when a faint sound from the
back of the house had her stiffening again.
The dash through to the kitchen must have only taken seconds, but she was still
too late. The back door opened and Alex stepped into the tiny room, kicking the
door shut and leaning back against it.
"All right, Louise," he said. "Don't you think it's about time you started
explaining?"
"Well?" Alex demanded when the seconds that had ticked away since he had asked
the question grew into minutes and still Louise hadn't answered him. "Are you
going to tell me just what's going on?"
"Nothing. Nothing that would interest you anyway."
"Ah, but there you're wrong. I am interested. And you have to admit that
I have cause. After all, why would you suddenly claim to be my wife when we
haven't seen each other for over eight years? When all that there ever was
between us was an adolescent fling that was over before it started?"
Liar! His conscience reproved him. It might have been an adolescent fling to
her, but to him it had been the forming relationship of his life. The
relationship against which he had measured every woman he had ever met since —
and found them lacking. And if he wanted the reason why he was here, back where
he had sworn he would never be again, then it was quite painfully simple.
It could be summed up in two short words.
Louise Browning.
He had never forgotten her. Never been able to get her out of his mind.
And given half an excuse to come back and see her again, he had been on the
plane before he had even had time for second thoughts.
"So what I want to know is just why you should lay claim to the name of a man
you hated, a man who…"
"I never hated you!" Louise broke in sharply, unable to let that go.
"No?"
"No!"
And it wasn't just "an adolescent fling," she wanted to add. She had adored him.
Loved him with all the strength of her young heart. And he had broken that heart
when he had walked out of her life for good, leaving her alone and pregnant.
Oh no — no! She could not — must not — think of Gabrielle. To do so would
destroy her. Especially now, with the living example of her daughter's heritage
standing right there in front of her. If her baby had lived would she have had
Alex's dark coloring, those beautiful gray eyes…?
Desperately she forced her attention back to the present.
"Well, you certainly gave me the impression that you couldn't stand the sight of
me," Alex drawled. "That you wanted me out of your life for good.'
"As I recall, you were the one claiming that it was over and done with."
She had come to him to tell him that she was carrying his child, and he had
refused to listen.
"You were on your way out to your new life — your new family in Spain."
"Louise, I had nothing to keep me here. My mother was dead."
You didn't want me.…
"My father had suddenly decided to acknowledge my existence. I was barely
twenty-one and a whole new future suddenly offered itself. I had lost my job,
narrowly avoided ending up in prison…"
Alex pushed himself away from the door and came to stand in the middle of the
room, his hands on his hips. Looking at them, Louise felt shivers of sensual
awareness slide down her spine. It was impossible not to recall the pleasure
those hands had given her in the past.
"Tell me, did you really think that I was callous enough to have left you asleep
after making love to you and gone though your parents' house, helping myself —"
"I didn't know what to think. I woke up and I was alone."
"So would you have preferred that I stayed? And been found there when your
father came home? That would have been fun."
"But then I found that all my stepmother's jewellery had gone…"
And foolishly she'd swallowed her father's belief that Alex wasn't to be
trusted.
"So you told your parents everything. You must have known they'd hit the roof."
"I couldn't just keep quiet."
"No, you did the one thing guaranteed to raise your father's blood pressure even
higher. You let him know that I had taken his precious daughter's virginity.
Tell me, Louise —" Alex levered himself away from the table and began to prowl
round the small kitchen "— did you really think that would help me get a fair
hearing?"
"I didn't know what else to say," Louise admitted edgily.
She wished he would stand still — or sit down — anything other than this
disturbingly restless movement. He seemed too big, too powerful, too elemental
to be enclosed in the confined space of the tiny room. And her own guilt and the
bitterness of her memories blended uneasily with the potently sexual appeal he
seemed to project without any effort to produce a dangerously explosive
combination.
"I felt hurt — more than hurt. I felt betrayed! I thought you'd used me. I was
only nineteen. If it makes you feel any better, when I found out that Geoff
Thornton had been caught trying to sell the jewellery, I hated myself. I had
never thought they'd sack you anyway."
"No?"
Alex had come to stand in front of her, looking down into her pale face
surrounded by the tumble of soft brown hair. Those changeable eyes were deep
mossy green in this light, clouded with anxiety.
"What did you think they'd do? Welcome the gardener — the housekeeper's son —
into the family? The Brownings of Helpcote Manor? You were young, Louise, but
not that foolish."
Moving this close to her had been a mistake, Alex admitted to himself. A big
mistake. When he'd kept his distance he'd also been able to keep control of his
feelings. But up close like this he could see the peach-fine texture of her
skin, smell the faint floral scent of some soap or body lotion she had used.
They said that scent was the sense most likely to evoke powerful memories, and
right now he could well believe it was true. Sensual hunger clawed at him
instantly and cruelly and the burn of it roughened his voice when he spoke,
though this time on a very different note.
"We were both young then. But we've grown up since. I know I have, and you…"
He reached out and closed both hands over the delicate bones of her shoulders.
"You've changed from a lovely girl into a beautiful, desirable woman…"
Not this.
The words sounded in Louise's head but she couldn't force them out onto her
tongue. Her throat seemed to have seized up, her lips frozen, and all she could
do was wait for the kiss that she knew was coming. The kiss that she could read
he wanted in the darkness of his eyes.
It was his gentleness that shocked her. The almost delicate, slow taking of her
mouth brushed away her doubts, her fears, her hesitation on a sigh of sheer
delight. She felt her senses swim, her heart kick up a beat.
The last time he had kissed her they had both been so young, not much more than
adolescents. He had kissed her like a boy, with a boy's urgency and impatient
hunger. Now he kissed her like a man — a man who knew exactly how to treat a
woman. He made her feel intensely female, totally sensual, all woman.
And she wanted more.
With another sigh, a very different one this time, she moved closer, slid her
hands up around his neck, pulling his head down toward hers to deepen the kiss.
She let her tongue dance with his, heard the heavy thud of his heart, felt the
heated pressure of his desire against the softness of her stomach, and the no
that had formed in her thoughts melted away into a deep and totally submissive
yes, oh yes!
"No!"
It was Alex who spoke this time. And his tone made it plain that there was no
room for argument, no chance of debate.
His body spoke more clearly than his words, stiffening and pulling away from
her, twisting free of her clinging hands and leaving her feeling cold and lost
and desperately alone.
"No!" he said more forcefully this time. "This is not going to happen."
The fight he was having against the demands of his senses made it sound far
harsher, more brutal than he had actually intended, but perhaps that was just as
well. In the past he had let his physical responses to Louise drown out the
warning cries of his thoughts — and look where that had got him.
Homeless, unemployed, and facing possible criminal charges.
Well, he'd learned his lesson. Things had to be very different this time.
"This is not what I came here for."
"Oh, isn't it?" The misery of rejection forced the words from her. "I thought it
was exactly what you wanted!"
"Well then, you thought wrong. The only thing I want is an explanation. I want
to know why you're using my name when you have no right to."
"You want an explanation! You want to know why I'm using your name! A name I
have 'no right to!' You've got very arrogant since you exchanged Alcolar for
Anderson!"
"If you mean I don't bow and scrape to the lady of the manor anymore," Alex
tossed back, "I don't do that for anyone. So are you going to explain why you're
suddenly claiming to be my wife?"
"I told you…"
Alex's wide, sensual mouth twisted cynically as his gray eyes flicked over her
dismissively.
"You told me, 'nothing's going on.'"
Then, just as Louise nerved herself for more, he suddenly shocked her totally by
switching on a smile. But it was a smile that was totally lacking in warmth; his
eyes were shards of ice.
"Okay," he said. "If that's the way you want it…"
And to Louise's horror he turned and headed straight for the door.
Would she let him go? he wondered. Or would she weaken and call him back? He had
seen the shadows in her eyes and wondered privately just what had put them
there.
Another step or two and his fingers had closed over the door handle. Turned it.
Behind him he heard Louise draw in a deep, raw-edged sigh and let it out again
in a despondent rush.
"Alex. Please…I — I need your help."
"Where exactly are we going?"
Alex's patience was rapidly wearing thin. When Louise had admitted that she
needed his help, he had thought that at last they were getting somewhere. But
she hadn't explained a thing. Instead she had snatched a coat from the hook in
the hall, told him to come with her and headed out into the biting wind and
threatening rain of a January afternoon.
"You'll see when we get there."
All right, let her be mysterious. He didn't have to stick around if it didn't
suit him. But this journey was bringing back memories. Memories that told him
they were heading for the manor house.
He'd walked this way often enough in his youth. The journey from the village had
been one he had made almost every day when he'd worked in the gardens there and
his mother had been the housekeeper.
But of course he'd made the journey with Louise at his side. Their brief,
passionate relationship had had to be conducted in secret, for fear that her
parents might find out.
"Is this car really yours?"
Louise knew she was only speaking to fill the awkward silence. She was sharply,
disturbingly aware of Alex's size and strength beside her in the confined space.
The rangy youth she had known had grown into a powerful and intensely masculine
man. The wild wind outside had tossed his black hair over his forehead and tiny
diamonds of raindrops sparkled in the jet-dark strands.
"Well, I certainly didn't steal it if that's what you're thinking."
"I never thought any such thing!"
But her conscience told her that she had only herself to blame for the cynical
dig.
"I should have trusted you," she blurted out before her courage deserted her.
"What?"
Louise snatched in a sharp, calming breath, trying to suppress the million
butterflies that had suddenly started beating frantic wings deep inside her
stomach.
"I should have known that you wouldn't have stolen my stepmother's jewelry."
She should have listened to her heart instead of her head.
But wasn't the truth that her weak, foolish heart had been totally
untrustworthy, too? Her heart had told her that in Alex she had found the love
of her life, the man with whom she wanted to spend all her tomorrows. But he had
had what he'd wanted from her and then he'd turned his back on her.
She should have realized what was coming that morning — the morning after he'd
taken her virginity — when she'd woken up and found herself alone. What was it
he had said when she'd gone to him to try to tell him about the baby?
"It was fun, darling — but not that special." And then he'd left. He'd gone to
live his new life in Spain, and he hadn't spared her a single thought.
"Melissa was spitting nails, as I remember."
Alex's casual tone belied the tautness of his jaw, the way that every hard line
of his profile was pulled tight over his stunning bone structure. Louise's lack
of faith in him had been a betrayal that had savaged his soul.
"I think she was truly disappointed to discover that it was Thornton who
actually had all her diamonds."
He steered the car carefully around an awkward bend.
"So where is she now?"
Louise shifted awkwardly on the soft leather seat, the movement bringing a wave
of soft, floral scent that stirred his senses cruelly. His hands tightened on
the steering wheel.
"In Australia. She married again soon after my father died."
"Yes, I heard about that. I'm sorry. "
"It was very sudden. A heart attack."
"That must have been hard on you."
Louise managed a mumble that might have been an agreement. Her father's death
had been a terrible shock, but she hadn't been prepared for the problems that
had followed after it. She hadn't really had time to mourn him before her world
had collapsed around her.
"Turn here," she said, as much to distract herself as to direct him.
"I gathered this was — What the hell…?"
Alex slammed on the brakes with nothing like his usual care or skill. As soon as
the car had come to a halt he was out of the car and standing, staring around
him in disbelief and confusion.
The big old house that had once been so loved and cared for now stood empty
and neglected. The ivy that climbed up one wall was overgrown and wild, as were
the lawns that edged the gravelled driveway. Weeds poked up from every
flowerbed, and the rose garden that had once been Louise's father's pride and
joy was just a tangle of withered blooms and unpruned branches.
But what shocked him most of all was the large, roughly painted sign: Private
property. Keep out! Trespassers will be prosecuted.
"What happened here?"
Louise got out of the car and came to stand beside him, looking very vulnerable
and lost as she huddled into her coat.
"Geoff Thornton happened," she said miserably. "When he got out of prison he
came back here."
"And?" Alex prompted harshly, because there had to be an and.
"And he managed to make some money — legal or not, I don't know. He set himself
up in a casino."
Her hazel eyes, sheening with unshed tears, slid to the desolation of the old
house, and Alex thought he understood.
"And your father —"
"No!" she interrupted him, shaking her head emphatically so that her soft brown
hair flew around her pale face. "Not my father — Melissa. My stepmother got
hooked on gambling. She lost — heavily. My father found out and paid her debts
once and she promised it wouldn't happen again."
"But it did?"
"Yes." It was low and miserable. "It happened again. Much worse this time. She
lost a fortune, and Geoff Thornton wanted his money. I think it was the shock of
the demand that brought on the heart attack that killed my father. She'd lost
everything. There was no way we could repay him except…"
"Except by letting him have the manor?"
"Yes. And he didn't even want it to live in. He just let it go to rack and ruin.
I think he just wanted to have his revenge on us for putting him in prison that
time."
But Alex wasn't listening. He was fighting the red haze of fury that was raging
inside his thoughts, destroying his ability to think.
The house that had been in the Browning family for centuries. Louise had always
loved the manor. She had once said that she would do anything to keep it.
Anything.
Including claiming to be married to him?
She hadn't thought him worthy to be with her before. But now that he was rich
and could afford a house like this.…
He felt sick — furious — used.
"This help you need, querida…does it involve saving the ancestral family
home?"
It involved much more than that. She had had such dreams for the manor.… But she
didn't dare to tell him the rest.
"Yes it does," she said hesitantly.
"And what do I get in return?"
Louise swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet the darkness in his eyes.
"Anything," she croaked. "Just ask. If I can manage it, I'll do it. What did you
have in mind?"
Alex's smile was cold as the sleet-laden wind that swirled around them.
"Oh, I'm sure that I'll think of something."
Alex drew his car to a halt outside the cottage and sat for a moment, scowling
through the windshield at the other vehicle already parked outside Louise's
cottage.
Someone had got here before him, and he wasn't in the mood for polite
conversation. There were questions he wanted answers to — and fast. And they
weren't the sort of questions he wanted to discuss in front of anyone else.
For a moment or two he considered turning around and driving away again, but
then he changed his mind. He wanted this business over and done with as soon as
possible.
Done with?
Face it, he told himself as he got out of the car and slammed the door behind
him. Nothing about Louise had ever been "done with."
He might have thought that he had been "over" her when he had left the village
and gone to live in Spain, but he had been deluding himself to believe so. And
coming back here had just proved it.
In five minutes flat she had got under his skin as strongly as ever, and he had
been forced to admit that nothing had died. Seeing her had simply revived all
the hunger that he had felt when he had known her before. Revived it so strongly
that he spent his nights enduring wild, erotic dreams about her, waking up hard
and aching. And when he was with her he felt as if he had lost all the years in
between, being once more reduced to the yearning, lustful state of the
nineteen-year-old he had been when he had first met her.
That was why he was here now.
He had told himself that now that he knew exactly what Louise wanted from him,
he would pack his bags and get out of there — fast. All she saw him as was a
wealthy man who could restore her precious manor — and along with it the status
of the Browning family — to its former glory. So was he going to let himself be
used like that?
No way!
At least that was what he had told himself three days ago. He was getting on the
next plane back to Spain and…
And here he was at Louise's front door again.
He had cursed his stupidity, told himself he was every sort of a fool. But he
hadn't been able to get Louise Browning out of his mind in eight long years, and
he might as well face the fact that he wasn't going to be able to do it now.
The door was slightly ajar, and as he raised his hand to knock he heard the
sound of raised voices from inside the cottage.
"But I told you…"
"I know what you told me, darling, but it just wasn't true, was it?"
Louise's light tones and another, rougher, very masculine voice that he
recognized instantly even after the length of time since he had heard it.
Geoff Thornton.
The man he had once thought his friend, but who had proved himself to be the
exact opposite.
"Can't you give me another few days?"
Louise looked up into the disturbingly cold face of the man before her, quailing
inside as she saw the ruthless cruelty stamped on it.
"You've had all the days you're getting! You pay by the end of the month or
else."
"But I told you —"
Three days ago she had hoped…but since then she hadn't seen or heard from Alex,
and the one tiny chance of a solution that she had had seemed to have shrivelled
into ashes, like paper in a flame, disintegrating totally.
"Oh, I know what you said, darling. You made some ridiculous claim about being
married — to Alex Alcolar, of all people! He'd sort this all out, you said. And
quite frankly, I don't believe a word of it. If Alex is going to come riding to
your rescue like a knight on a white charger, then he'd be here by now."
"You told him! You wrote that letter!"
"I wrote — but nothing happened. If he's your husband, as you claim, then where
the hell is he?"
"Here."
The single word came from behind them both, making Thornton spin round in shock,
a violent curse escaping his lips. Louise couldn't even manage that much. Though
her mouth opened, no sound came out.
"Sorry I'm late, querida...."
Alex moved swiftly into the room, bypassing Thornton with only a coolly
disdainful glance. Coming to Louise's side, he stunned her even further by
dropping a swift, totally unexpected kiss onto her vulnerable mouth.
"I had a last-minute phone call just as I was leaving."
If she had been capable of thinking of any reply, that kiss drove it totally
from her mind. That and the use of that word, querida, along with the
apparently genuine warmth in his tone made her head spin in disbelief. When he
moved to her side and slid a strong arm around her waist, she welcomed its
support with gratitude, her legs suddenly feeling weak as cotton wool beneath
her.
"So —"
At last he turned and surveyed the man before him, slate-gray gaze cold and
impenetrable.
"Shall we get down to business?"
"Alex…" Louise tried, but he silenced her with a smile and a swift shake of his
head.
"No, amada…"
The softness of the words was threaded through with unyielding steel. A steel
that was matched by the warning flash of those dark eyes, cautioning her not to
overstep the invisible line he'd laid down.
"We agreed. I would deal with this. You can leave it to me. What I would like
you to do is to make me a coffee. I'm parched.…"
The none-too-subtle push he gave her left her no option but to head for the
kitchen as he wanted. Any attempt to disobey would only result in an undignified
struggle; one Alex would undoubtedly win with ease. So she gave in — for now.
She even made herself fill the kettle and switch it on. But the water boiled
totally ignored as she struggled to listen to what was happening in the dining
room.
The thickness of the door and the space of the hall between them blocked the
words, so that all she could hear was the indistinct murmur of the two different
voices, Thornton's loud and blustering, Alex's smooth and totally impassive.
Louise found that she was clenching her hands tight in an attack of nerves,
nails digging into her palms.
And then just as she thought she couldn't bear it any longer, she heard the
front door open and close on a loud and obviously angry slam. The next moment a
car roared into life and sped away down the lane.
Alex or Thornton?
A swift glance out of the window gave her the answer. Alex's car was still
parked opposite the cottage.
A rush of feeling swamped her, but even she couldn't have said whether it was
relief or the opposite. Alex had got rid of Thornton, it seemed — but did that
mean that she could say goodbye to all her problems, only to welcome in a whole
new set of difficulties?
The phrase "out of the frying pan and into the fire" sounded ominously inside
her head as she forced her reluctant feet across the hallway to the dining room.
Alex was standing by the big open fireplace, staring down into the flames, a
brooding expression on his stunning face. But he swung round as he heard the
door open and Louise hesitated on the threshold.
"He's gone," he said, anticipating her question. "And he won't be back."
"Can you be sure? How do you know —"
"I know," Alex broke in curtly. "He's had all the money that he's getting out of
me, and I made it clear that if he tried anything again there was plenty of
information that I could hand over to the police — information that could put
him back inside if I chose to reveal it. Yes, you can be sure he's gone."
"But that's wonderful!"
Impulsively she took a couple of steps forward, her hands coming out — then
froze as she looked into his handsome face and saw the blank, opaque look in his
eyes.
"He's gone," he repeated. "You're clear of him. Now you'll have to deal with
me."
"I'll have to deal with you?"
Louise's heart jerked, seemed to stop, then lurched into a rough, unsteady beat.
Nervously she swallowed hard.
What had Thornton told him? Just how much had the other man let slip? Oh, why
hadn't she defied Alex's command and stayed in the room?
"What do I have to do?"
Once more Alex's smile was the opposite of warm.
"'Anything,'" he drawled. "'Just ask. If I can manage it, I'll do it.'"
It took Louise a couple of shaken, bewildered moments to grasp just what he
meant. And when she realized that he was quoting her own words back at her,
reminding her of her promise to do anything she could to thank him if he got
Thornton off her back, her head spun in something close to real panic.
"You've — you've decided what you want."
"I have."
"And what is it?"
It was too late now to regret her rash promise. Too late to acknowledge that she
had blundered in without thinking, and so landed herself between the devil and
the deep blue sea. She had promised, and Alex had delivered the goods, so now
she had to do the same.
"I want you to come back to Spain with me."
"Spain?"
He couldn't mean it!
And even as she told herself that, she felt the sudden desperate rush of a
longing for him to really want her to go to Spain with him. To be with him. As
it had once been.
But of course that was not what he wanted.
"But I can't! I mean — I can't just walk out on things here. I have a job."
"A job? As what?"
"I'm a nurse. In — in the premature baby unit in the local hospital."
And that was coming way too close to memories that were painful even after all
this time.
"A nurse? You?"
Suddenly, unexpectedly, the disbelief in his expression changed to something new
and very different. There was a speculative light in his eyes as his cool gray
gaze swept over her, a hint of a sexy grin curling the corners of his sensual
mouth.
"I can just imagine you in the uniform…"
Louise's sigh was a blend of exasperation, relief and a hint of teasing
amusement. At least this was safer ground.
"Don't tell me you're one of those guys who are turned on by the thought of a
nurse's uniform. We don't wear the starched hats or the…"
Her voice faded, her throat drying, tension clutching at her heart.
The atmosphere in the room had changed, moving from calm, even relaxed, to
nerve-tightening apprehension in the space of a heartbeat. But it wasn't a
fearful apprehension, more an anticipation. A need. A longing.
"I wouldn't need a uniform to turn me on," Alex said, and the same sensations
that were tugging at her nerves were there in his voice, in the darkening of his
eyes that held hers transfixed. "You can do that all on your own. You always
could. All I need is you."
"Alex…"
"Luisa, come to me…"
And when he held out his hand it was as if he were a magician who had cast a
spell over her. She couldn't resist, had no will to resist.
She didn't want to resist.
She wanted to be in his arms. It was the only place she had ever wanted to be.
And as their warmth and strength closed around her it felt like coming home.
And then it didn't. Because Alex bent his head and took her mouth in a kiss that
seared her soul. And then it felt as if she was venturing out into new and
dangerous territory. But she knew she could never turn back. Because this was
what she wanted. What she had missed so much in all those long lonely years.
"Luisa…querida…amada," Alex muttered roughly against her mouth, and the
words made her tremble in need.
She didn't care if he meant them or not. She only knew that they were part of
the whirlwind of sensation that assailed her, and she needed them as she needed
his kiss, the heat of his hands on her, smoothing, stroking, awakening the
hunger that had always lain just below the surface whenever she was with him.
She desperately wanted to feel the heat of his skin, and her fingers were clumsy
with need as she tugged at the hem of the sweatshirt at his narrow waist.
With a rough laugh low in his throat, Alex helped her, shrugging off the soft
material and coming back to her with the heat and hardness of his torso crushed
against her upper body. And somehow he seemed to know that she so longed for him
to follow suit and rid her of her own clothing, but he didn't put her out of her
misery at once.
Instead he let those knowing, tormenting hands move everywhere. They slid under
her sweater at the neckline, sending shudders of response right through her as
his long fingers stroked the upper curves of her breasts, the sides. Then his
hands moved away again to tangle tightly in her hair, pulling her face closer as
he deepened and prolonged his kiss.
"Alex…" It was moaning protest, a sound of impatience, and hearing it he soothed
her gently.
"No rush, querida; we have all day.…"
But even as he spoke the words, Alex knew that he was deceiving himself.
No rush! Who was he kidding?
He might have wanted to take this slowly, but he knew it was impossible. From
the moment that he had felt the softness of her body in his arms, the taste of
her mouth on his and the scent of her skin in his nostrils, the hot and heavy
pulse of desire through his body had taken over, pushing him to the edge of his
control.
He skimmed the pink sweater from her in one swift movement and captured the warm
weight of her breasts in his hands, cupping them through the flimsy lace that
was their only covering. His thumbs stroked the delicate crests, rousing them to
urgent hunger.
Louise moaned again, writhing against him, feeling the heat and hardness of his
need for her against her hips. Her breath caught in her throat, her whole body
stilling as his mouth touched her shoulders, moved down, down, to close over one
tight nipple, warm and demanding, his tongue tracing wildly erotic circles over
her aching flesh.
"Amada…" his voice was raw and husky. "Tell me, your bedroom is…?"
"Too far away. It would take too long. I want you here and now."
Her tone was as rough as his. And as she spoke she was drawing him toward the
open fire, drawing him down onto an old-fashioned rag rug before the hearth. On
her knees before him, she tugged the fastening of his jeans free, slid the tight
denim down the length of his legs and then made a raw, choking sound in her
throat at the sight of his lean, muscled maleness in the firelight.
"Alex…" she muttered, and reaching out she closed her fingers around his
hardness.
The soft touch shattered what little was left of his control. Pushing her back
onto the rug, he came down on top of her, urgent hands lifting her skirt,
tugging down the white lacy panties beneath it.
The flickering, changing light of the fire played out an endless succession of
patterns on the pale limbs splayed beneath him, gilding his chest and arms,
shadowing his face as he slid between her thighs, entering her on one long,
slow, sensual thrust.
"I have waited so long for this," he muttered against her yearning mouth. "Too
long. Far, far too long."
"Too long…" she echoed on a broken sigh. But then as he moved inside her the
sigh changed to a cry of delight, rising to a note of loss of control, and
finally of total fulfilment as she lost herself completely in his arms.
And as she arched in total abandonment against him, Alex too gasped out her name
as felt himself shatter in the hot, silken warmth of her body.
It was the start of a long, lingering, erotic afternoon. What they had begun by
the heat of the blazing fire, they later continued, more slowly, in the deep,
welcoming warmth of her bed. And as a result it was a long, long time before any
sort of rational thought made its way back into Alex's mind.
But when, in the early hours of the morning, a degree of memory returned, it was
the last words that Thornton had flung at him on the way out the door that slid
coldly into his mind.
And made him wonder if he had made the worst mistake of his life.
Alex's home in Andalusia was quite the most beautiful place Louise had ever been
to in her life.
But it was also the loneliest.
Even years ago when Alex had left the village and gone to take up his new life
with his Spanish family, when she had found herself alone and pregnant, she had
never felt as desolate as this. The closest she had come to this sense of
desolation had been in those terrible days just after she had lost the baby —
Alex's baby — and had felt that she would never know happiness again.
She had come to Spain because she had to. She knew now that she had never
stopped loving Alex. Would never stop loving him. That first time she'd had to
let him go because she'd had no alternative. But this time he had asked her to
come with him. And after that day when they had made love she had known that it
would kill her to let him walk out of her life again.
So she had annoyed the hospital by taking all the holidays she had available at
the shortest possible notice. And she had come with him.
But something had changed. Alex was no longer the man he had been. The ardent,
passionate lover seemed to have vanished, and in his place was a cold, withdrawn
man. A man who no longer even seemed to want her. A man who hadn't even kissed
her or touched her in the three days since they had arrived here.
He had made every effort to make sure that she was more than comfortable. Every
need she had was met; every whim answered almost before she had a chance to
express it. Every luxury that she might want, and some she had never even
dreamed of, had been provided for her. But all that did was to emphasize how
little Alex gave her emotionally.
And that lack of emotion was breaking her heart.
"Luisa? What are you doing? My family will be here any minute."
"I'm coming."
She forced herself away from the window just as he pushed open the door and came
into the room. And just the sight of him, his bronzed skin dark against the
crisp white shirt, long legs sheathed in the black tailored trousers, was enough
to make her heart jerk in uncontrolled response.
She loved him so desperately, but she had no idea how he felt about her — if, in
fact, he felt anything.
"Is there something wrong?"
"Wrong? No."
The lie brought stinging tears to her eyes so that his face blurred before her.
"Then why are you hiding yourself away up here?"
His tone was so sharp that she knew he wouldn't easily be distracted, that she
would have to offer him some plausible explanation or he would never let the
subject drop.
"All right then. If you must know, I'm nervous about meeting your father. He's
given you so much.… No?" she questioned as Alex shook his dark head angrily.
"But I assumed that your father…"
"Well then you assumed wrong. My father gave me nothing but the start I wanted.
The place at university. The position in his company where I could start out.
Everything else I have I earned."
That was so typically Alex that she couldn't hold back a small, soft smile. His
pride would never have let him just have things given. Even though his father
could well afford everything, he had to earn whatever came to him.
"What have you told him — and your brothers and sister — about why I'm here?"
What could he tell them? Alex wondered privately. How could he explain something
that he didn't understand himself?
If he knew why she had come with him then things would be so very different. Or
would they? Wasn't the truth of the matter the fact that he didn't want to know
the answer, in case it turned out to be the opposite of what he'd hoped for?
"I've told them nothing," he answered honestly. "Nothing except that you are a
visitor from England — someone I once knew."
Someone I once knew. It had such a desolate sound to it. There seemed no
hope of any future in those words.
"Did — did you tell them about the manor? About —"
"That's our secret. It's just between you and me."
"I'll never be able to thank you, you know. If you hadn't come to my rescue, I
don't know what I would have done."
"Thornton certainly wanted more than I'd ever dreamed."
Alex struggled to control his voice, keep the words even.
"Why didn't you tell me how bad things had got?"
"I — I didn't dare. To tell you the truth I couldn't believe myself. Melissa
must have been signing IOUs day and night. I knew I could never pay it. I was
really beginning to think that I was going to be forced to take the only way out
that Thornton had offered me.…"
She shuddered expressively at just the thought.
"'The only way out.'"
Alex pounced on the words like a tiger on its prey, bringing her up short in
horror at the thought of what she had just inadvertently revealed.
"And what way was that? Louise!" he added warningly when she backed away,
shaking her head in refusal to speak. "Tell me!"
"I — I can't.…"
"No," he said grimly. "But Thornton did. He wanted you to become his mistress.
To pay him with sex. I almost killed him.… I could still…"
"Please — no — it's over."
Over for her, Alex admitted to himself, but now he had to live with what this
news meant for him. He had paid Louise's debts for her. He had got her precious
manor back, and had made sure that Thornton would never trouble her again.
And then he had taken her to bed.
He had done it because he loved her. Because in all the years they had been
apart she had never truly been out of his thoughts. He had tried to forget her,
but the truth was that he had never been able to.
And she had gone with him willingly. She had given herself to him without
holding anything back.
But had she only done so because she felt it was the way that she could thank
him? That, as Geoff Thornton had insinuated, this was the way she had expected
to pay for her freedom, and all that had changed was the man to whom she owed
the debt of gratitude?
His stomach heaved at the thought, and he couldn't bear to look into Louise's
lovely face for fear of what he would see there. Instead he whirled away,
planning on heading for the door. On getting out of here before he said
something that would give away what he was feeling.
But the suddenness of the movement created a whirling draft that caught some
papers lying on the bed, lifting them and dropping them onto the floor.
"Perdón. I —"
Automatically he stooped to pick them up.
"No!"
Louise lunged forward, reaching desperately. But she was too late. Already those
sharp gray eyes had scanned the first page. She saw him stop dead, flick a
sudden, shocked glance in her direction, then go back and reread the page with a
new and frightening intensity.
And she knew it was too late.
Alex read the letter through once more then turned blazing eyes on Louise's
ashen face.
"The Gabrielle Alcolar Memorial…Louise, what the hell is this?"
"It's —"
Twice she tried to answer. Twice her voice failed.
But she didn't really have to explain. Alex's swift, incisive brain had assessed
the contents of the letter and come to the right conclusion.
"Gabrielle Alcolar. Were you pregnant? Did you have a child? My
child?"
Louise could only nod miserably.
"And you didn't deign to tell me? To let me know —"
"She didn't live long enough for anyone to know her!" Louise burst in, tears
flooding down her cheeks. "She was born too early, and she died too early as
well. She wasn't even a day old.…"
"Oh, Luisa!"
Suddenly she was in his arms, her head pillowed on his chest, her tears soaking
into his shirt.
And he just held her. Held her and let her weep, his voice murmuring soft,
comforting words in gentle Spanish, as if in the emotion of the moment all his
English had deserted him.
It was only when her sobs eased, when she drew in a deep, shuddering breath that
he put one hand under her chin and lifted her face so that her hazel eyes met
the dark intensity of his steely gaze, and shockingly saw the revealing glisten
of his own tears in its depths.
"And this memorial — the home — this is what you wanted the manor for."
Sniffing inelegantly, Louise managed to nod agreement.
"I wanted somewhere that mothers who had lost their babies this way could go.
Somewhere they could have some time to recover, to convalesce. When Gabrielle
died I spent hours just walking in the countryside around the manor, or reading
in the library. I think it saved my life. I wanted others to have the chance,
too."
"I see."
There was something in his voice that jarred. He was looking at the other
document. The one that Louise knew was Gabrielle's birth certificate.
"You do understand. It was so very important to me."
"Oh, yeah."
He couldn't drag his attention away from the words that were on the paper in
front of him. Gabrielle Louise Browning. Born May 9. Gabrielle Browning.
When his daughter's birth had been registered, she hadn't even been given his
name.
"I see now how important the manor was to you."
She'd lost him somehow, Louise realized. The long, lean body was stiff with
rejection, held rigidly away from her.
Outside, the sound of a car pulling up alerted them to the fact that the first
of their guests had arrived. Alex snatched at the excuse to escape.
"My family is here. I'll go down and let them in. You take the time you need.
Come down when you're ready."
But then, just as she managed a smile of thanks for his thoughtfulness, he drove
it right away again with his next words.
"And don't worry about what they'll think of why you're here. I'll explain it's
just for a short visit. Tell them that you're going home again tomorrow."
It was not a suggestion but a command, Louise realized dazedly as the door swung
shut behind him. He was telling her that she was going home again
tomorrow. Dismissing her from his life — permanently, by the sound of it — and
she didn't have the faintest idea why.
As Louise watched Alex's family drive away from the house, she felt her stomach
tighten into hard, painful knots. She had been nervous at the thought of them
arriving. Now she wished that they were staying for much longer.
Would Alex carry out his threat and send her home? Was he already wishing that
she was gone?
But the man who walked ahead of her back into the cool tiled hallway was silent
and withdrawn. She was going to have to be the one who opened the topic.
"I like your family," she managed hesitantly. "Your brothers are so like you.
It's easy to see that you share the same father."
Both Joaquin and Ramon Alcolar were every bit as tall, dark and stunning as
their half brother. But neither of them stirred her senses or made her feel the
way the man before her did.
"And Mercedes…"
For the first time, Alex's face softened at the mention of his half sister.
"Mercedes is a chatterbox," he said. "She never knows when to shut up."
"It makes her easy to get on with."
She prayed that the uneasiness in her mind didn't show in her voice. Mercedes
had spent some time alone with her, and what Alex's sister had told her had
unsettled her terribly. She had also found it impossible to believe.
"So…should I start packing?
It was part question, part challenge. But Alex didn't respond to either.
"If I'm to leave tomorrow, I should.… But, Alex, I don't want to go!"
That got a reaction from him. He had been heading into the kitchen, but now he
whirled round. And something in his face, some shaken look in his eyes just
before he managed to mask them again told her that her comment had hit home.
But he covered his mistake quickly.
"Why not?" he asked coolly.
Not coolly enough, Louise decided. He had definitely been shaken. And that,
combined with what Mercedes had said, gave her a new determination. She was not
about to be dismissed without at least a fight.
"I don't think I'm prepared to say — at least, not yet. Not until you've
answered a question for me."
It was there again. A tiny flash of wariness that, sensitive to everything about
him, she caught where someone else might not.
"Louise, is this important?"
"Yes. I think so. It could be the most important thing I'll ever ask."
She really had his attention now. Those slate-colored eyes were fixed intently
on her face, watching her closely.
"Then ask," he said huskily.
Louise licked her painfully dry lips, wondering where to start.
Ask, Alex had said, giving her the chance she so desperately wanted. But now she
was terrified that she would make a total mess of things if she didn't tread
very carefully.
"Mercedes said — she said that you once told her something.… She was teasing
you, saying it was time you got married, and you told her that you'd already met
the one woman who could ever be your wife."
"Like I said, Mercedes talks too much."
"But was she telling the truth?"
Her answer was there in his face. He didn't need to speak a word.
Louise's heart gave a little kick of excitement but she fought to keep calm. She
wasn't out of the woods yet.
"That's what I told her." Alex was clearly hedging his bets, too.
"And the woman? Who were you talking about?"
But she'd pushed him too far. His face changed, his jaw setting hard, and he
shook his dark head violently.
"No. No more questions. It's my turn for some answers."
"Okay, ask away."
She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.
"When Gabrielle — when our daughter was born — why...?"
"I didn't register her birth."
She anticipated the question that was burning in his mind and answered without
it needing to be asked.
"I didn't do it. I was too distressed to do anything. My father was the one who
put the name Browning on the certificate."
"But you were the one who called her Gabrielle Alcolar on the documents for the
memorial home?"
He took her silence for the assent it was.
"Why? Because I was no longer plain Alex Anderson? No longer the housekeeper's
son, but a member of the powerful Alcolar family? Because I could afford to buy
—"
"No! Oh, Alex, is that what you thought? Because if it was, then you couldn't
have been more wrong. Your money — your position now — doesn't mean a thing to
me."
"No?"
The cynicism in his eyes stabbed at her like a knife.
"No! I always wanted Gabrielle to have her real name — your
name. You were her father; she was your child. That was what mattered. If you'd
read the letter properly — all the details — you'd have seen that the home was
always going to have your name right from the start. Whether you helped me or
not."
"So the manor…"
"The manor is only a place. I wanted it to be a memorial to Gabrielle — to our
child. But I wanted it to be named for you too. Because…"
No. She didn't dare to admit that she loved him. Not yet. He still looked too
wary, too unsure. She had to wipe away the scepticism, convince him somehow.
But how?
When inspiration struck suddenly, it was impossible to suppress a grin of pure
delight. Impulsively she held out her hand.
"Alex, come with me."
Alex eyed her suspiciously, wondering just what had put that glow into her face.
"What are you up to?"
"Please, trust me."
When she turned those wide hazel eyes on him like that, and put the pleading
note into her voice, then he would go with her anywhere. Do anything she asked.
He couldn't stop himself.
And so he put his hand into hers and felt her soft fingers close around his.
She led him up the stairs and into a bedroom. His bedroom, not the
separate single room where he had insisted that she sleep since their arrival at
the house. Once there, she released him, left him standing in the middle of the
room while she perched on the end of the big double bed.
"Louise, what —"
"No talking."
She held up a hand to silence him.
"Just do as I say. Take your jacket off."
For a second she thought he was going to refuse. But then suddenly he shrugged
his broad shoulders, slid off the jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair.
"And your shirt."
He frowned his confusion, but surprisingly he obeyed her without a word.
"Now what, señorita?" Alex asked dryly, his attention totally focussed on
her. "Don't tell me…"
Strong brown hands gestured, indicating the black leather belt at his waist.
"That's right." The tightness in Louise's throat made her voice croak
embarrassingly.
She expected rebellion, but surprisingly he obeyed her without a word. Perhaps
something in her face had given her away. Perhaps he had sensed just how much
this meant to her.
With the last garment of all, her nerve failed her. But Alex took the situation
right out of her hands, stripping off the shorts to stand proud and
unembarrassed in his nakedness before her.
"Isn't it about time you told me what all this is about, querida?"
Her heart thudding wildly, Louise got up from the bed and walked to stand beside
him. With a hand that shook noticeably she reached out and touched him softly on
the cheek, looking deep into his darkened eyes.
"Now you're what I want," she said clearly, confidently. "Now you're all
I want — everything I want."
"Not the money…?"
Where her voice had gained a new strength, Alex seemed to have lost some of his
pride, his self-possession.
"Or the —"
"Not the money. Never the money. Not the manor or the name or
anything…but you." Louise assured him. "You're what I need. Just you,
nothing more. Just this one special man…"
"And you're all the woman I need. The only woman I want," he told her. And to
Louise, the words sounded the most wonderful she had ever heard in her life.
"Then will you answer my question?"
She didn't need to say which question. He knew exactly what she meant.
"Yes," he said, his voice deep and husky with emotion. "Yes, you were the one I
told Mercedes about. Yes you are the woman I love. The only woman I would ever
want by my side. So please, amada, please tell me that you'll marry me
and be my wife — for real, this time."
"Oh, Alex, there isn't anything I'd love more in the whole world. Oh, yes…"
The words were silenced by his kiss. A kiss that promised the world and a
glorious future together.
"Wife for real," Louise echoed softly when he finally let her breathe again.
"Could anything be more perfect?"
"Just one thing," Alex told her, his eyes gleaming silver with a blend of
delight and need. "But you have rather too many clothes on for what I have in
mind."
"I do, don't I?" Louise teased, joy lifting her voice, putting a bubble of
laughter into it. "Perhaps you'd like to help me with that?"
The End