One Night: Latin Heat: Uncovering Her Nine Month Secret / One Night With The Enemy / One Night with Morelli

I ran down the stone path, past green hedges and huge oak trees with soft, full greenery, past a pond and a picturesque gazebo in an English-style garden, past something that looked like a hedge maze straight out of Alice in Wonderland. Choking out a sob, I abruptly stopped. I found myself in a rose garden, surrounded by a profusion of colorful blooms, gentle yellow, soft pink, innocent white and a blaze of red like heart’s blood.

“Lena.”

His voice was low behind me. Shocked, I whirled around.

“How did you...?”

Alejandro stood in front of me, dark and tall and powerful. Colorful roses and the primal green of the garden hemmed us in on every side, like a riotous jungle. “I know this garden. It’s been my home since I was a child.”

The sun left a frost of golden light against his dark hair, like a halo, tracing down the length of his body, his tanned, olive-toned skin, his sharp cheekbones, his hard-muscled body that moved with such sensual grace.

“I won’t sleep with you,” I breathed. “I won’t!”

His cruel, sensual lips curved.

“We both know you will.” I watched, mesmerized, as the words caused his tongue to flick against the edges of his lips, into the warm, dark honey of his mouth. I remembered how it had felt when he’d kissed me last night. My lips still felt bruised, from the sweet remnants of that fire. “You want me. As I want you.”

“I won’t let you take me because I am convenient.” I shook my head fiercely. “You can’t have me now, Alejandro!”

He came closer, towering above me, our bodies so near they almost touched.

“Can’t I?” he said huskily.

I stared up at him, shivering. Sunshine shimmered in the greenery around Alejandro, making the flowers gleam like colorful lights, the roses like tumbled scarlet against the deep forest green, the leaves and thorns and tangling vines.

Reaching out, he stroked a long tendril of my hair. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you in the hallways of that London mansion, watching me with such longing in your eyes.” He lifted his gaze. “I wanted you then. I want you now. And I will have you.”

His dark eyes were like deep pools, illuminated by streaks of amber in the sunlight. The kind of eyes that make you lose your breath, the kind a woman could drown in.

The kind of eyes that could make a woman forget a whole lifetime of grief and everything she should have learned from it.

He wanted me. The thought was like a flower. Like one of those beautiful, hardy, deeply poisonous oleander flowers I’d seen growing along the Spanish highway.

He wanted me.

“We are married now,” he said.

“For Miguel’s sake.”

“Sí. We married for the sake of our son.” He followed me, his powerful body intent, with his dark hair and his dark clothes, like a stalking panther. “But that is not why I want you in my bed.”

“But I can’t trust you—”

He straightened, his face dangerous. “Why do you think that?”

“You said you lied to me and will lie again. You said you’re no good at keeping promises....”

Alejandro looked away. “That was about...something else.” He looked back at me. “I will always keep my promises to you.”

“But how can I believe that?” I whispered, my heart running like a scared deer.

“Because it’s true.” He moved closer, running his hand down my long, loose hair, down my back. I shivered beneath the soft, seductive touch. Lifting his hand, he stroked my cheek as he whispered, “Be with me. Be my wife.”

My whole body trembled, leaning toward him.

“And if you still think you can’t trust me...” His fingers gently stroked my cheeks, lifting my chin as he said softly, “Trust this.”

Lowering his head, he pressed his lips against mine. I felt his warmth, his power, the strength of his body. I closed my eyes, lost, dizzy with desire. When he finally pulled away, I stared up at him, trembling.

“Please,” I choked out. I lifted my gaze to his. Please don’t make me love you. “Please don’t make me want you....”

He rubbed the pads of his thumbs along my swollen lower lip, and gave me a smile that was breathtaking in its masculine triumph. “Too late.”

In the distance, I heard Maurine calling from the castle. I twisted my head, listening, and so did he.

Alejandro suddenly cupped my face in his hands. His eyes were dark. Merciless. “Tonight,” he whispered. “You will be in my bed. Tonight...” He ran his fingertips down my shoulders, cupping my breasts. I gave a soft gasp, and he returned a sensual smile. “You will be my wife.”

CHAPTER SEVEN (#u5e58498e-913f-5e1f-b0a6-0688a65fe213)

TONIGHT, YOU WILL be in my bed.

Tonight, you will be my wife.

The day raced by. I could not hold the hours back. The clock was ticking and when night fell, I knew he would take me, if not against my will, then at least against my heart.

The dinner table was busy and crowded and happy, because apparently Maurine, the daughter of American-Basque sheep ranchers, had gotten into the habit of eating with her entire household staff, many of whom lived in cottages on the edge of the Rohares estate, and their wives and children were always welcome, as well. Freshly made breads, fruit and cheese were spread across the table in a feast that also included meats, stews and seafood paella, and all kinds of desserts, tortas to galletas.

“You should see it on holidays,” Maurine said to me with a smile, when she saw my eyes widen at the crowd that completely filled all the chairs at the table in the dining hall. “Then, everyone invites their extended families as well, and they come from all over Andalucía.”

“Where on earth do they sit?”

Maurine’s smile lifted to a grin. “We have to bring all the tables out of the attic and extra rooms, and bring in every antique chair we’ve got, and the old benches and chests.”

“Nice,” I murmured. I exhaled. “This place is amazing.”

“Because of Alejandro.” She looked a few places down the table, to where he was holding court with our baby son in his lap, introducing him to the families of household staff. The women were clustered around him, as if to offer obeisance to a visiting pasha. “He is my whole world. I owe him everything.”

“I bet he’d say he owes everything to you. And looking at all this—” I looked at the food, at the decorations, at the care taken with all the details “—I’d have to agree.”

“Oh, no.” She shook her head vehemently. “If not for him, I never would have survived the aftermath of that car crash, when I lost my whole family....”

“I’m so sorry,” I murmured. “I heard about that. Losing your son and daughter-in-law, and even the housekeeper and her son.... I can’t imagine how awful. But Alejandro lived.”

“That’s right. Yes.” Shuddering, she closed her eyes. “He saved me. I can still see him in the hospital, his little, injured face covered with bandages, his eyes so bright. Bones in his face had been broken, and he’d never look the same, but he was worried about me, not himself. ‘It’ll be all right, Abuela,’ he told me. ‘I’m your family now.’” She blinked fast, her eyes sparkling with tears. “He gave me something to live for, when I wanted to die. And more.” She shook her head. “He saved this castle. Even at twelve years old, he was determined to win back our family’s lost fortune. He knew he could do it. And he wasn’t afraid.”

“No.” Alejandro wasn’t afraid of anything. And he always got what he wanted. I shivered, remembering the dark promise in his eyes in the garden. Tonight, you will be in my bed. Tonight, you will be my wife.... I pushed the memory away. “How did he build a fortune out of nothing?”

“He went to Madrid at seventeen,” Maurine said. “Worked eighteen-hour days, three different jobs. He took all the money he earned and poured it into risky investments that somehow paid off. He wasn’t afraid to gamble. Or work. It just goes to show that nobility is in the heart,” she said softly, almost as if she were talking to herself, “not the blood.”