Spaniard's Baby of Revenge

by Clare Connelly

  Her heart gave a painful squeeze as his image floated into her mind and she gasped audibly, hating how much she missed him. Hating how tempted she was to throw caution and common sense to the wind and return to Madrid, tail between her legs, pride in tatters, and tell him she would take him—on whatever terms he offered.

  But she couldn’t do that.

  She weaved down a lane, reaching above her and grabbing a twig of jasmine as she went, lifting it to her nose and smelling it, the fragrance so perfectly intoxicating that the ghost of a smile crossed her face.

  Not for long, though. Sadness and bleakness were back and she dropped the flower a few steps further.

  It was colder than she’d realised and her face was icy, despite the winter sunshine. After a couple of miles, she turned back towards her cottage, already relishing the idea of being back in bed and blotting out this world for a while longer.

  A sudden movement when she approached her house caught her eye and she squinted, wondering if she were hallucinating.

  A man at her door looked almost exactly like... Antonio. She breathed in sharply just as he pulled his body from the door and then slammed himself against it, in an attempt to break through the ancient timber.

  ‘Antonio!’ she said sharply, moving up the small path towards the front door. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Dios mío, you are okay?’

  ‘Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?’

  If anything, he looked indignant, and as though he were controlling a temper. ‘Because you weren’t answering your door or your phone, and yet your car is here.’

  She frowned. ‘I went for a walk.’

  Consternation creased his brow. ‘In this condition?’

  ‘My legs work fine,’ she said softly.

  ‘I was concerned,’ he explained.

  She struggled not to react. Not to let her heart throb hopefully, not to let her pulse fire. It had only been a week, but it might as well have been three years, for how desperately she wanted to stare at him and touch him. Fresh pain perforated her heart, because she couldn’t give in to those feelings. He was wrong for her, wrong in every way. His hatred would poison their baby—and enough had been lost to the ancient feud. She was done.

  ‘I could have just been ignoring you, you know,’ she pointed out with a coldness she was proud of.

  ‘I worried you could be passed out inside,’ he said, and she saw for the first time that his skin was pale, as though he’d been shocked. Worried.

  She forced her heart not to register that.

  She was pregnant with his child; concern was natural.

  ‘I wasn’t.’

  She moved to the door but he put a hand out, just lightly, brushing her forearm. ‘I need to speak with you.’

  Her eyes swept shut at this and she shook her head instinctively. Her voice shook when she spoke. ‘I feel like we’ve said everything that needs saying.’

  ‘You have,’ he agreed, dropping his hand. ‘But I have some way to go. I want to fix this, Amelia. If you’ll let me.’

  She shook her head again and lifted her fingertips to her lips, and then she took another step backwards, almost as though she were afraid of him. ‘Not everything can be fixed.’

  * * *

  Antonio acknowledged her statement, and the truth behind it. He couldn’t fix everything. Sometimes things were broken beyond repair and whenever he looked back on that last day in Madrid he saw the fractures he had forced into their relationship.

  ‘I can try.’ His voice was gravelly.

  She turned to look at him, huge blue eyes in a face that he knew so very well. ‘You shouldn’t be here.’

  She was pulling away from him, building up to telling him to get the hell out of her life. He had to make every word count.

  ‘I’ve just come from Carlo’s.’

  And she paled, gasping and lifting her hands to cover her mouth. ‘Oh, Antonio, no. What did you do?’

  She was clearly terrified of him setting his plan in action—of what he might say or do to the brother she obviously loved. He’d done this to her—he’d made her think destruction was all he cared about. Wasn’t that true? Destruction at any cost—and he could clearly see the cost his need for revenge had inflicted on the woman he’d married.

  Shame at his actions threatened to suffocate him.

  ‘He and I have come to an agreement.’

  This she wasn’t expecting. ‘What kind of agreement?’ Her eyes narrowed and he felt a wave of animosity bounce off her. ‘Have you blackmailed him in some way? Or are you here to offer me a fresh bribe?’

  ‘I’m here to offer you my heart.’ He waited for the words to sink in. ‘And to beg you to forgive me, Amelia, querida.’ She swallowed, her neck knotting visibly. He fought an urge to reach out to her, to touch her, to comfort her in some way. ‘I had been angry for so long, it was all I knew. I didn’t realise I could feel any other way, until I lost you. You walked out of my life and I was filled with this huge ache, right here.’

  He pushed his hand into his chest. ‘I was alone and lonely for the first time in my life—and all the hatred I felt towards your family, my need to make them pay for what they did to my father, Dios mío, it seems so petty now. That I was willing to sacrifice our happiness to an ancient feud... That I laid my actions at my father’s feet, when you were so right about him: the last thing he would have wanted would be for me to push you away.’

  She swallowed, the slender column of her neck moving visibly, her chest inflating and deflating at speed. And then, after a moment, with a tiny shake of her head, ‘I’m not giving you my stake in Prim’Aqua, no matter what you say.’

  He couldn’t blame her for believing that was all he was after, but her suspicion ripped through him nonetheless, tearing a hole in his chest. ‘Good. I no longer want it.’

  Her eyes showed her disbelief.

  ‘Your brother and I have agreed to put our shares in trust—for our baby.’

  At this, Amelia drew in a small, sharp breath. Surprise crossed her face. ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s their birthright. It should pass to them in one piece.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ She nodded slowly. ‘I’ll do the same.’ And then with another soft sigh, ‘I only wish you’d thought of that right at the beginning.’

  ‘It wouldn’t have been enough,’ he muttered, regretting his own stupidity. ‘I wanted to destroy your brother, and nothing else would do. Not then.’

  She bristled, visibly rejecting him. ‘And now?’

  ‘I no longer wish to destroy him, hermosa.’

  Her expression showed wariness. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because he is your brother, and you love him, and he will be the uncle to our child, just like you said. But it’s more than that. I want, more than anything, to make you happy.’

  She crossed her arms, the gesture one of scepticism and disbelief. ‘Why are you saying this now?’

  But she was tired, her skin pale. ‘Come inside. Sit down,’ he urged softly.

  ‘No.’ She was resolute. ‘Why now? What happened?’

  ‘You went away,’ he said simply, but the words were punctuated by gravelled pain. ‘And I saw everything clearly for the first time in a long time. Without you, nothing matters. It’s that simple. Everything I was fighting for—to avenge a historic wrong—seemed so trivial. I just wanted you. To hold you and wake up with you, to make you smile and fetch you tea.’ He stroked his thumb across her cheek, and she watched him as he studied her. ‘I just want you back, so badly. I thought ours was a marriage of convenience and common sense—I had no idea until you left that I had become addicted to you—to all of you. I didn’t realise that I had fallen completely in love with you.’

  She was silent, her beautiful face pinched as his words settled around them, and he waited, even when anxiety was rippi
ng him apart from the inside out.

  ‘I don’t know if you’re capable of feeling love.’

  The accusation hurt, but she had every reason to feel that way, he acknowledged. Panic flared in his gut because he’d lost her once and he couldn’t lose her again.

  ‘I loved you, I think, even on that first night, when you threatened me with a meat cleaver. When you confounded all my expectations. When you made me laugh and look beyond my own stupid prejudices. When you gave yourself to me so sweetly, so willingly, and with all of the generosity that is so much a part of you.’

  Tears filled her eyes and, God, he wanted them gone! He never wanted her to cry again, unless from sheer joy.

  ‘You used me that night, Antonio. And you’ve been using me ever since.’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head emphatically. ‘Our families had nothing to do with why I wanted you—they never did.’

  ‘You blackmailed me into marriage—’

  ‘I know that,’ he interrupted gruffly, ripping his hand through his hair so it spiked at odd angles. ‘I have been a bastard to you and I hate myself for that. I hate everything I have done to you, and yet I cannot say with confidence that I would not do it all again. I fell in love with a woman I wished I hated, and I have spent the last eight months pushing you away rather than face the fact that you’re everything I’ve ever wanted in this life.’

  Her eyes held his for a brief second before flitting away, and the sadness in them was enough to make him crumble. ‘I don’t deserve another chance with you, Amelia, but I am begging you for one.’

  Her sharp intake of breath showed that he was hurting her and yet he couldn’t stop.

  ‘I want you to come home, to be my wife, to live with me again. I want to hold you in my arms as you sleep, to run my fingers over your hair and wrap my arms around your body. I want to kiss you every morning and make love to you every night. But I know that is a fantasy now.’ He cupped her face, desperate for her to look at him, but she kept her eyes averted, staring at their feet. ‘So please let me stay here, with you. In a spare room, on the sofa, anything. Let me in, just a little, so that I can show you I’m willing to work at this, that I’m prepared to be everything you could ever want. Our marriage was all on my terms—and now it can be all on yours. Just please, do not send me away, Amelia. I am begging you...’

  Amelia shook her head and stepped backwards, moving away from him a little, but at least now she looked at him. Her expression was guarded; it was impossible to know what she was thinking and feeling. He waited, knowing he’d said his piece, knowing this decision was hers now, and that he had to respect her wishes.

  ‘Why are you here?’

  The question surprised him.

  ‘Because I love you.’

  Her eyes swept shut. ‘But why now?’

  ‘Because I missed you.’

  ‘But that’s not enough,’ she said, and now she sobbed, and his gut twisted. ‘I’ve been missing you too, like crazy. Walking out on you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Our marriage was just a fantasy, Antonio. There’s nothing here but revenge and hatred, and a baby. If I hadn’t fallen pregnant, you would never have come looking for me, right?’

  ‘And do you know how much I hate that? Do you know how terrifying that is? I cannot imagine my life without you, not for even one more day. Call it fate or destiny, for whatever reason this child was conceived, I thank every star in the heavens.’

  ‘A baby isn’t enough to make a marriage work.’

  ‘Our marriage,’ he said, taking a step closer and curling his hand behind her neck, holding her face towards his, ‘works.’ And he brushed his lips over hers, almost groaning at the taste of her, the familiar feel of her.

  And she swayed against him, her body softening, and he kissed her again, relishing this—the familiar, the perfection. ‘Remember everything we are, everything good we have shared, and ignore this bitterness of mine towards your family. That is the future I promise you, querida. From this day forward, there is no anger, no resentment, no hatred. Our child is a Herrera and a diSalvo, and we are family.’

  She sobbed into his mouth and he swallowed it, and kissed her deeper, harder, with all the urgency he felt in his chest, clawing at him, ripping him to pieces.

  And when she pulled away it was as though he were drowning, and everything was dark and he was panicked, until she smiled and the sun burst into his life once more.

  ‘I don’t want to stay here,’ she said, and she brought her lips to his and kissed him and his heart exploded with the perfection of that moment. ‘Take me home, please.’

  ‘To Madrid?’

  ‘To our future.’

  He stooped down and lifted her up, holding her against his chest as he moved back towards his car. He walked away from a home that had, that night, been wrapped in rain and storm clouds and was now bathed in milky afternoon sunshine.

  And he smiled against her lips, because he had all he could ever want in life—and it was only going to get better.

  EPILOGUE

  ‘YOU’RE CARRYING THE next baby!’ she groaned, squeezing his hand so hard he could almost feel bones crunching.

  He laughed softly. ‘You said that last time.’

  ‘And I was right!’

  ‘You’re almost there,’ the doctor promised. ‘One last—’

  ‘Puuuuuuush!’ Amelia finished, a primal, guttural word. And then she collapsed back as a baby’s cry sounded.

  ‘Well?’ Antonio asked, impatient. ‘What is our son to have? A sister or a brother?’

  ‘On your way to a soccer team,’ she whispered, like her normal self now, a weak smile on her face.

  ‘It’s a girl.’ The doctor grinned. ‘And she’s got quite a kick already.’

  ‘A girl?’

  Antonio smiled down at his wife, emotions surging through him. ‘A little version of you.’

  She grinned, holding her hands out for the baby. ‘Javier won’t be happy. He was desperate for a little brother.’ And then tears sparkled on her lashes as she held her daughter, seeing her shock of black hair and honey skin.

  ‘Maybe next time,’ Antonio teased.

  Amelia looked daggers at him. ‘Next time? Unless you really are going to become a marvel of modern medicine and be the pregnant one, then let’s not talk about “next time” right now.’

  ‘But why not? When we make such perfect babies?’

  He smiled at his wife, and then at their daughter.

  ‘She is divine.’ Amelia sighed. ‘Just perfect.’

  ‘Just like her mother.’

  ‘Will you text my family?’

  Antonio nodded. Giacomo and Carlo had been eagerly awaiting news of the new Herrera—strange that he rarely thought now of the feud that had first brought him to his wife’s door.

  So much water had flowed under the bridge since that night—so many good memories had overwritten all the bad.

  And it was a truth, he decided, that it was impossible to dislike anyone who adored your children from the bottom of their heart—and there was no doubt in his mind that the diSalvo men loved this new generation of Herreras.

  ‘I’ll let them know,’ he agreed. ‘Soon. But for now, let’s enjoy this time with our little princess.’

  ‘Your wish is my command,’ Amelia agreed softly.

  ‘I think that’s the other way around.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps you’re right.’ She stifled a yawn, and love, pride and fierce adoration burst through him.

  ‘I’m always right.’ He grinned, but there was a serious note underneath, because he very nearly hadn’t been.

  At one time he’d almost made the biggest mistake of his life and let this woman walk out on him.

  And he’d never be so foolish ever again.

  He intended to do everything in his power to live happily eve
r after—with the love of his life and the family they’d made.

  And because he was Antonio Herrera and he always got what he wanted, they did.

  * * *

  If you enjoyed Spaniard’s Baby of Revenge you’re sure to enjoy these other stories by Clare Connelly!

  Innocent in the Billionaire’s Bed

  Her Wedding Night Surrender

  Bound by the Billionaire’s Vows

  Bound by Their Christmas Baby

  Available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Claiming My Untouched Mistress by Heidi Rice.

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