The air left Anne’s lungs as if she had been struck a blow to the heart. She could not bring herself to meet the raking probe of Ramón’s eyes. “It’s all right,” she said, in a tone heavy with finality.
If he noticed the hint that she would like to consider the subject closed, he ignored it, making no move to let her up from the sofa. Instead, he reached to slip his fingers around her neck, beneath her hair, rubbing the angle of her jaw with his thumb in a gentle caress.
“I can’t help wondering,” he went on as though she had not spoken, “exactly why you did leave. What was it that made you bolt like a frightened rabbit? Was it Irene? Or was it — me?”
Anne flicked a glance at the stillness that had closed over his features, then looked away again. What could she answer that would not betray herself? She could think of nothing. She could not think at all. The gentle movement of his thumb sent shivers of pleasure along her nerves and she grew minutely more aware of an aching need to move into his arms and press herself against him.
His grip became firmer, more insistent. “Look into my eyes, Anne, mi alma, and tell me I did not frighten you with my jealous temper.”
Startled, Anne lifted her lashes. “Jealous?” she repeated.
“Of course,” he replied, a rough edge creeping into his voice. “Insanely, wildly jealous. Don’t you know yet that I love you more than life itself, and that you are mine and I cannot tamely stand by and watch any man put his hands on you. My anger then, querida, was not only that Pépé dared to touch you, but that you could not see that you belonged to me, only to me.”
“You — you love me?” Anne asked, returning with a sense of awe to the most important point.
“Ah, mi vida, more than life itself,” he answered, his voice husky in his throat, his accent becoming more pronounced.
Disbelief still clouded her eyes. “I thought you distrusted me, that you detested the kind of woman you thought I was.”
“I tried, but what could I do? Even if you were the most avaricious witch alive, I had to have you near me. Why else would I hire a fiancée? Am I not man enough to rid myself of a dinging leech like Irene and protect my name from her vicious tongue without resorting to such schemes?”
She should have realized the truth of that assertion long before. Hadn’t she seen evidence enough of the implacable strength of his will?
“Then you didn’t need me, or my help, at all?” she asked in slow comprehension.
Before the words had left her mouth his arms closed around her. They were anything but gentle. The fierceness of his ardor swept over her like a raging fire. He kissed her eyelids, her forehead, her earlobes, trailing fire across her cheek to scorch her lips. She was crushed against him as he foiled any attempt at escape, even if she wished to try. She did not. The certainty of his love spread like healing balm to every corner of her mind. Beneath it her own desire kindled to flame so that her arms stole around his neck and she molded herself to the hard strength of his body.
With a deep, trembling breath, he released his hold. She lay back in his arms petit and breathless. After a moment, he shook his head.
“Why? Why did you run away when I tried before to tell you how much I wanted you, how much I needed you?”
A deeper shade of color flushed Anne’s cheeks. He had just declared their engagement officially null and void. How could she say to him that on that other occasion he had mentioned neither love nor marriage when even now, with words of love on his lips, he had not offered her his name. Still, she had to say something.
“I — I was afraid.”
“You were afraid I intended to possess you without vows of marriage being said between us, were you not? But if that is so, why did you later leave my house rather than agree to be my wife as Abuelita wished?”
The bewildered humility of the question was totally out of character. It hurt her to see him so uncertain. Lifting her eyes, she met his questioning black gaze without evasion. “Because there was no mention of the word love in that marriage arranged by your grandmother, and I could not stand the torture of loving with all my heart a husband who cared nothing for me in return.”
“Querida...” he whispered, drawing her close against him, nestling her head in the curve of his neck. “So you do love me.”
“Yes,” she murmured. “So much I can’t tell you.”
He sighed. “My stupid pride. When I think of the time we have wasted I cannot forgive myself. How can I ask you to forgive me?”
“No, no,” she whispered incoherently, and lifted her lips to his in the age-old benediction, absolving him with a kiss.
Sometime later, Anne stirred. “You are certain Doña Isabel is well?” she asked. As he gave his assent, he went on. “And you are not still angry with her for deceiving you?”
Ramón stretched in lazy relaxation, running his hand along her arm, and with the movement pushing up the sleeve of her sweater so he could press his lips to the soft skin at the turn of her elbow.
“How can I be?” he asked, his breath warm against her skin as he spoke without lifting his head. “It was she who gave me the first indication that under your cool disdain you were not indifferent to me.”
Remembering her admission of love to his grandmother, Anne smiled, touching her fingers to the crisp waves of his hair.
Abruptly Ramón raised his head; pushing her sleeve higher, he examined the skin of her forearm. “These bruises,” he said, a black scowl drawing his heavy brows together. “I made them...?”
She had no choice but to admit it.
With a groan, he brushed the yellowish-purple discolored skin of the old bruise with his lips, then drew her close.
“I don’t wonder that you fled from me,” he breathed, kissing the soft wave of her hair at her temple in an agony of remorse. “But I would never willingly harm you, you know that.”
Happily, Anne nodded.
“Then promise me, my heart, that you will never leave me again?”
Anne drew back, searching his face, her eyes radiant with the glow of love. “Never,” she answered, her voice soft yet firm, “Never in this life — or afterward.”
About the Author
Since publishing her first book at age twenty-seven, New York Times bestselling and award-winning author Jennifer Blake has gone on to write over sixty-five historical and contemporary novels in multiple genres. She brings the story-telling power and seductive passion of the South to her stories, reflecting her eighth-generation Louisiana heritage. Jennifer lives with her husband in northern Louisiana.
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To find out more about Jennifer’s books, see the Steel Magnolia Press website at www.steelmagnoliapress.com.
Purchase Steel Magnolia Press ebooks direct from Amazon.com at: http://smarturl.it/smp.
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Subscribe to Fresh Leaves, the Steel Magnolia Press newsletter, to be notified of new releases and subscriber-only specials: http://eepurl.com/gCgrX.
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Jennifer would love to hear from you! Other places to connect with her:
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If you enjoyed this work, please leave a review to help other readers decide if it’s a story they too would like to read. A couple of sentences are all you need to write. Thank you!
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Enjoy 5 More Romances In
THE SWEETLY CONTEMPORARY COLLECTION
http://smarturl.it/smp
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April of Enchantment
Room for Love…
Laura Nichols is no amateur at historical preservation, and the elegant 19th-century Louisiana mansion, Crapemyrtle, promises to be the perfect showcase for her talent. After her first infuriating meeting with its handsome new owner, Justin Roman, she’s determined to pr
ove the house can be both breathtaking and ready in time for his wedding. But if he doesn’t trust her abilities, why does he give her the final say on any changes to be made, even over his fiancée’s objections and growing jealousy?
As the wedding date approaches and the mansion nears completion, can Laura bear the thought that she will never live in it with Justin…?
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Bayou Bride
Piracy of the Heart
Sherry Mason fully intended to refuse the plea of her weak-willed friend, Paul Villeré, that she be his pretend fiancée during a visit to his Louisiana home. Let him stand up to his arrogant older brother Lucien, and refuse to marry the girl chosen for him! But that was before she received the late-night phone call from Lucien, heard his scathing opinion of her character and relationship with Paul.
Still, she underestimates Lucien’s determination to prevent her appearance at the family gathering — until he spirits her away to an isolated bayou mansion. To submit to this abduction is impossible; Sherry makes every effort to thwart Lucien’s plan. But how can she escape the unwilling desires of her own heart?
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Captive Kisses
A stolen moment
Kelly is delighted to accept the offer of a friend’s family summer place on a Louisiana lake for her much-needed vacation. On arrival, however, she discovers the house already occupied by a darkly handsome stranger named Charles, his associate, and an elderly man who appears to be their prisoner.
Retreat is impossible; Kelly is forced to join the trio. Charles is charming and considerate beyond most crooks, but a ruthless captor; all attempts to escape his guard are futile. Yet as time wears on, Kelly questions the secret that holds them there, and yearns to believe Charles is worthy of love…
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Love at Sea
Passport to Love
Maura’s great aunt is injured in an accident just before the two are to set sail aboard the Athena, and insists her niece go on without her. Maura can still gather background material for her famous aunt’s next romantic novel while enjoying a tropical island vacation.
Maura might not have agreed if she’d known the devilishly handsome owner of the shipping line, Nikolaos Vassos, would be on board. The arrogant Greek is everywhere she turns, in both calm and stormy seas, and seems to suspect her of some sort of literary sabotage.
How can she concentrate on island romance when her thoughts keep turning to a Greek lover?
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The Snowbound Heart
Script for Romance…
Stranded after an accident during a blizzard, Clare Thornton takes shelter at the mountain home of movie star Logan Longcross. She’s far from welcome as the reclusive actor is convinced she’s another adoring fan invading his privacy. Both Clare and Logan are determined she will leave as soon as the roads are clear.
That is, until producer Marvin Hobbs shows up right behind the snow plow, convinced he’ll find his wife, Janine, in Logan’s arms.
When Janine appears on cue, Clare is suddenly cast in the part of Logan’s fiancée. Clare and Logan must give flawless performances, or the movie deal Logan and Marvin are negotiating will fall apart. Logan is a superb actor, leaving Clare breathless. But it was never in the script for her to fall in love...
The Abducted Heart (Sweetly Contemporary Collection) Page 18
