Grayson Prentiss's Seduction

by Bronwyn Scott

  Other items included books of history and poetry that must be some of his favorites. All of them were written in Spanish. Yet he spoke two languages as did his wife. They had spoken in both English and later in Spanish that morning. It meant he was a man of education and likely some travel due to his work.

  He’d gleaned from Elena’s comments that he traveled for business, at least on occasion, like the Madeira cargo she’d mentioned. But at heart, he was a farmer. He’d known it when he’d looked out the window in Elena’s room and seen the acres of land spreading before him. Of all the things he’d been told today, being a merchant-farmer was the only one that resonated. It didn’t conjure up any memories of his past, but at least it seemed natural to him.

  It was more than he could say about his marriage to Elena. His marriage felt both natural and unnatural. Her incongruous reactions to him in the morning had left him confused. The woman who had lain naked against him throughout the night and unabashedly dressed in front of him was a woman used to the presence of a man. But the woman who had been startled by the simple press of his hand over the breakfast tray sent a different message. She’d been skittish and uncertain.

  Then he had kissed her and she’d become fluid passion in his arms. It had taken all his restraint not to claim her right then. She was his wife—he didn’t have to show restraint—but he’d felt that he must, that somehow, regardless of her willingness in the moment, she wasn’t quite ready to accept that her husband had returned after a year long absence.

  Alejandro idly ran a hand over the items on the dresser, turning over all he knew, weighing the information against what he didn’t know. One thing was certain: he didn’t need a memory to recognize a mystery when he found one.

  Chapter Nine

  Elena stared at the open doors of her wardrobe, but her mind was not truly focused on the gowns. Instead, her thoughts were consumed by the handsome stranger down the hall. She had to take the upper hand, and quickly. Her nerves had nearly been her undoing that morning. She’d felt it and so had Alejandro. She had to be careful. It was too late to back out. The game was firmly in motion.

  A messenger from Don Alicante’s pazo in the hills had already come to ask for an audience. She’d hoped for a little more time, but word must have traveled swiftly indeed if it had already reached him. Now, she could not delay—it would look unnatural to be reluctant to meet. Two days was all the time she could buy—two days to subtly fill in the gaps of Alejandro’s memory. She was just starting to realize the depth of the risk she took.

  Elena reached for a gown at the back of the wardrobe and held it against her, shaking out the wrinkles it had acquired with lack of use. The deep-blue silk felt smooth beneath her hands. She had not worn this gown for nine years, not since the early days of her marriage to Alejandro when she’d thought they could build a life together. The neckline was cut low, the bodice tapered to a tight waist and a full skirt. She’d loved this gown. She’d purchased it in Santiago de Compostela when she’d bought her trousseau, but there’d been little cause to wear it in the following years. Tonight it seemed there was cause again.

  Her body reacted of its own accord at the thought of what was to come. Heat pooled in her belly at memories of the morning, of the feeling of his hands on her. She had thought to make this his seduction but it had proven to be the opposite. This was not a man to be led. She would have to be cautious. But her body didn’t want to be careful. Her body wanted to capitulate entirely.

  Outside the window of her chambers, the sun was beginning its descent. The moment was drawing near. Elena washed and dressed quickly, allowing Anna to help her with the gown’s fastenings and to pull up her heavy hair into a becoming style that left her neck exposed.

  Then Elena left her room for the pazo’s dining room, a room that had seen little use since Alejandro had left a year ago. Tonight, the room shone with candlelight and the little luxuries of the pazo were displayed at their best. The table was arranged with her grandmother’s china placed on the lace-trimmed tablecloth. Two goblets of prized, colored Venetian glass sat at each place. Candles glowed from heavy silver candelabras, the ones she used only at Christmas and other special occasions. Elena sighed. The servants had outdone themselves. The sight of the room was a potent reminder of all the hopes pinned on the stranger, on the man they believed to be Alejandro.

  “My lady,” Alejandro emerged from the shadows of the big room and came to stand before her dressed in black formal clothing. He looked magnificent in the candlelight. The short jacket he wore emphasized the broadness of his shoulders and the leanness of his waist. The trousers encased long legs. His dark hair was pulled back with a silk ribbon, looking sleek and clean.

  He came to her and took her hand, bending over it gallantly and lifting her knuckles to his lips for a kiss as if she were a grand lady. Indeed, he was all courtly grace, holding out her chair and waiting for her to be seated before taking his own place at the table. He gestured to the two footmen to remove the covers and begin serving. Then, when their plates were full, he dismissed them just as easily.

  Ah, this one had plenty of manners, Elena noted, sipping wine from her glass. Clearly he was no common sailor washed up on shore—he was a man of some gentle breeding. Yet not so much, she noticed, that he was put off by the hearty nature of the meal.

  Unlike Don Alicante, she did not give herself airs and serve course after course of luxurious dishes prepared by a trained chef. Her table was graced with paella full of fresh shrimp and bacalao sold in the village fish market that day. Crusty brown loaves of bread lay sliced on a pewter tray with pale butter made in the pazo’s creamery.

  “I saw my chambers today,” he said, refilling her glass. He shook his head. “I didn’t remember anything. Nothing seemed familiar.”

  Elena was swamped with guilt. Of course he wouldn’t. “Don’t worry. Tomorrow we’ll tour the estate. That might help your memory come back.” She had to play along with his attempts to recall his memories, make it seem as if her suggestions were made in order to help him, but in reality they were only helping her. Touring the estate would give her a chance to explain Alejandro’s past to him, to give him a false identity and to fill in the gaps left by his real identity.

  “I would like that. Have things gone well? How have you managed? I expect it has been difficult.”

  Elena nodded. “We’ve done well enough. I don’t think you’ll have any complaints.” She launched into a recitation of the harvests and the vineyards.

  After awhile, he smiled. “We’ve done better than ‘well enough,’ it seems."

  Elena basked in his praise. Her husband would never have admitted as much. To his thinking a woman hadn’t the mind for the business of running a pazo. But she’d shouldered the enormous burden without question, unwilling to let the estate falter in Alejandro’s absence. It was all she had.

  But suddenly she realized that she didn’t have it anymore. “I suppose you’ll want the reins of the estate back soon enough,” Elena said hesitantly. In the beginning, she hadn’t thought beyond thwarting Don Alicante. But now, as she listed the accomplishments of the past year, she was struck with a new worry. This man would want to assume control of the pazo. He would assume it was his right to do so and she would be unable to stop him. It was a husband’s prerogative to control property, just as it was a husband’s right to control his wife.

  Running the pazo took considerable energy and while it might not be something she thoroughly enjoyed, she’d come to take pride in the fact that she could do it. Truth be told, she’d come to enjoy being an independent woman. She liked the power that came with her freedom, from answering to no man. If the hard work of running the pazo was the price for that heady elixir, she would gladly pay. But when she stared at the handsome man across the table, that equation started to shift. No matter how hard she worked now, he would have the power over the pazo—and over her.

  Elena took a large swallow of wine. Would she really be willing to put the pa
zo and her own freedom in this man’s hands? In her gamble to win her freedom from Don Alicante, she’d hastily chained herself to an unknown man and given him an identity that gave him extraordinary power over her, if he chose to use it. Her only hope lay in convincing him not to.

  The servants had left them alone for the meal, but now they reappeared to clear the dishes. One of them brought in a decanter of clear liquid and a tiny glass along with two slices of fruit tart.

  Alone again, Elena gestured to the decanter. “Will you have some orujo? It used to be your favorite.”

  He smiled and gave a short laugh. “Thank you for the prompt. I regret that there is so much that I’ve forgotten. It strikes me as the height of irony that I can remember to pull a lady’s chair out for her but I can’t remember my favorite foods or my own name.” He poured some of the liquid into the tiny glass, tossed it back and immediately sputtered, reaching for his napkin. “Good lord, I can’t believe I like that stuff!” he ground out once he recovered from the shock.

  Elena stifled a laugh. “It’s made from anis.”

  “It’s horrible, is what it is.” He laughed with Elena. “Perhaps it’s an acquired taste and I shall have to reacquaint myself with it. But not tonight.” He put his napkin aside and rose from the table. “Tonight, I only want to reacquaint myself with my wife.” He held out a hand to her, “If you’re willing, of course. A year apart is a long time. Perhaps you need time to get used to me again?”

  This was the moment of truth. Elena did not hesitate. She put her hand in his and said, “I am willing.”

  Chapter Ten

  It was all the encouragement he needed. Alejandro led her upstairs to her chamber with a surety of direction that suggested he knew every inch of the pazo. One would not guess he hadn’t even seen the building until that day. He lit two lamps in her room and pulled the draperies shut.

  Everything he did had an air of mastery to it and Elena couldn’t help but wonder if that extended to the art of lovemaking as well. He stopped by a chair and began to shrug out of his jacket.

  “No, allow me.” She went to him swiftly. A wife would show no hesitation in helping her husband undress. She pushed the jacket back from his shoulders, reveling in the flex of his muscles beneath the cloth of his shirt. Jacket discarded, her hands went to his neck cloth and she deftly undid the simple knot. She pulled his shirt tails from the waistband of his trousers and lifted the garment up over his head, baring his torso. Tanned and sculpted from a sailor’s work, his chest was a delight to look at. He was staring at her, watching for her next move, but self-consciousness threatened to overcome her.

  “Touch me,” he encouraged softly. Her mouth went dry. He reached for her hand and gently guided it to the bulge in his trousers. “Touch me here. Feel how much I want you.”

  He was huge and hot beneath his trousers. She traced the length of his shaft through the cloth, amazed that she could conjure such an intense reaction from a man she hardly knew when she’d failed to do so with her husband.

  His hands went to the low shoulders of her gown and he shoved them down. It was his turn to undress her and he made quick work of the fastenings in the back. The gown slid into a pile. “I did not think you could look more beautiful than you did in that gown. But now I think you lovelier out of it,” he whispered close to her, kissing a delicate spot on her neck. She shivered in response.

  He swept her into his arms and laid her down on the bed, stepping back to remove his trousers and to study her with a long, searing look.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Elena. I want to bury myself inside you and stay there.”

  He laid beside her then, his weight heavy on the bed. His hand caressed one of her breasts reverently. “I have thought of nothing else all day—I have simply marveled that I was able to leave you at all in the first place.” His hand moved lower, skimming the curve of her hip, until it came to rest on the private juncture of her thighs. He probed and tested, the gentle pressure of his hand sending red hot desire to the furthest reaches of her body.

  She was wanton to desire this man so completely, to want him to ravish her so thoroughly—and not just because such an act would bind him to her, but because she simply craved him.

  He moved over her and she took him between her legs, her thighs parted wide, ready for him. He kissed her full on the mouth as he moved over her. She could feel his breath catch with excitement as he entered her—tentatively at first—cautious of her sensitivity, and then firmly sheathed himself deep inside her. Her body welcomed him. He filled her completely and still it was not enough.

  Instinctively, Elena wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, holding him tighter. He began to move inside her, creating a delicious purgatory of pleasure and anticipation. She urged him onward with her hips and hands as he took her on a journey of pure ecstasy that brought her to a cataclysmic release. She cried out as he shuddered deep inside her.

  He collapsed beside her, careful to not make her take the brunt of his weight, his breathing ragged in the wake of his exertion. “Elena…” He whispered her name in almost reverent tones, his awe over what had transpired evident in that one word. He’d been as moved as she had.

  He reached for her, settling her in the crook of his arm. Her head found the hollow of his shoulder like it had the prior night and Elena wondered at the ease with which they’d assumed such intimate patterns. It had never been like this with Alejandro, not even in the beginning.

  Elena sighed, letting her hand drift over the contours of his chest. She must not dwell on comparisons.

  “I’ll have my things moved into your room tomorrow,” he murmured. “It seems quite foolish to keep two rooms when it’s clear we’ll only make use of one.”

  The woman in her was thrilled with the quiet announcement. She could get used to the pleasure of such a capable man in her bed. But the plotter in her wavered. This was dangerous. It would be too easy to lose her heart to a man who had no name and no history except that which she gave him.

  She’d only wanted him to act as an unwitting bulwark between her and Don Alicante. Now it seemed there would be a price for her choice, above and beyond the risk she ran with her deception. But she would not think about that tonight, not now when she lay sated in his arms, drowsy with contentment and a strange sense of fulfillment.

  ***

  Alejandro lay awake long after he felt Elena drift off to sleep. Their lovemaking had been an incredible experience, one that he’d felt profoundly. His cock stirred in agreement beneath the sheets, ready again. But for all the rightness he’d felt in the ultimate moment of their joining, something escaped him, some small last shard of fulfillment.

  He supposed such a feeling had to do with his lack of memory—the oddness of being with a wife he both knew and didn’t. She’d shown no reserve in their bed, none of the earlier hesitation. Their bodies had been made for each other. But still, it was beyond odd to think they’d no doubt made love together countless times in the past and he could not recall the power of those moments. He had only this night.

  Beside him, Elena stirred gently in his arms. His wife was a saint—she’d been patient with him today, tolerant of his memory loss. She’d left him alone to sort through his feelings. She’d not peppered him with questions that he couldn’t answer—like why he’d not sent word of his safety, or why he’d been gone for so long. Alejandro doubted many women would have shown such restraint.

  Still, he didn’t like the feeling of being a man full grown with fewer memories than a babe in arms. Elena deserved more than that. She deserved a man who was complete in all ways. Tomorrow, Elena had promised to show him around the estate. Tomorrow, he would start rebuilding his history, one experience at a time.

  Chapter Eleven

  The pazo was a rambling collection of buildings contained inside a large area enclosed by a high stone wall. Alejandro was impressed with the self-sufficiency of the place—his wife had done splendidly in his absence
. He’d toured the main house of the pazo yesterday but he hadn’t been outside since his arrival. The fresh air was sharp and bracing, adding to his acute awareness that he was alive.

  He’d woken that morning feeling almost giddy with elation for no apparent reason except that he was filled with vigor. The soreness of his muscles had lessened considerably overnight. He had made love with Elena in the light of the new day, proving that the intensity of last night’s coupling had not been an anomaly.

  Alejandro shot a sideways glance at the woman walking beside him. The quiet gray of her plain everyday gown did nothing to diminish her incredible beauty. Her hair was pulled back with a single ribbon, leaving the soft curve of her cheek exposed. He reached for her hand as they walked, lacing his fingers between hers, unwilling to be physically separated from her. She noted the gesture and gave him a gentle smile. It was no secret to him why he’d married her.

  Everything inside the walls was built around a square like a little town. Elena took him past the low, single-storey building that housed the servants and then to the stable, a small structure full of light that was neatly kept for the four horses that lived there.

  “This horse is yours.” Elena led him to the stall occupied by a dark-coated stallion who tossed his head at Alejandro’s approach.

  Alejandro put his hand out, palm side up. “There, boy. Take it easy. It’s just me, home at last,” he coaxed, but the stallion remained skittish.

  “He’ll come around,” Elena offered when it appeared the stallion wasn’t going to be friendly. “It’s been nearly a year, after all. He’ll get used to you again. He always was high-strung.”

  Alejandro gave a tight-lipped smile. He was getting tired of not knowing silly little things about his life. He looked around the stable and told himself not to panic. His memory would come back soon enough and in the meantime Elena would fill in the gaps. He turned to exit the stables and suddenly an image flitted through his mind. Mentally, he grabbed for it, held onto it briefly—but couldn’t quite keep it.