Harvest Moon

by Rochelle Alers

  “Have you caught them lurking about?”

  He shook his head. “No. But I don’t want to give them the opportunity, either. Magda comes at seven in the morning and is usually gone before ten at night.” He tightened his grip on her fingers. “Come, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

  Regina followed Aaron in and out of rooms which were added to the original building erected by the first European da Costas, who had sailed across the Atlantic to the New World more than three-hundred-fifty years ago. Terra-cotta, stone, wood, and plaster were the basic ingredients of the traditional sixteenth and seventeenth-country structures. Even with the addition of indoor plumbing and electricity, the magnificent house had lost none of its exquisite beauty, as it claimed terra-cotta-tiled roofs and chimneys, rustic stone walls, vaulted ceilings, and stained glass windows.

  Staring out a window on the upper level, she was enchanted by the panorama unfolding before her eyes. Countless numbers of shrubs bearing the fruit which would blossom with cherries containing coffee beans swayed gently in the cooling ocean breeze. She noticed that acre upon acre of trees were planted nearby to shade the coffee trees and developing fruit from the hottest sun.

  She felt the heat from Aaron’s body as he moved behind her. He curved an arm around her waist and pulled her back to lean against his chest.

  “What blend do you grow?” she asked.

  “Coffee arabica.”

  Smiling, she nodded. “My family has perfected a variety of an arabica that is known as San Ramon.”

  “If they’re cultivating a dwarf strain, then they must harvest the Jamaican Blue Mountain.”

  “They do.”

  Turning her around in his embrace, he cradled her face between his hands, giving her a questioning look. “All you know about coffee is drinking it?”

  She flashed a saucy grin. “I suppose you can say I know a little about the plant.” Her grin faded when his expressive face changed, becoming almost somber, and an inexplicable look of withdrawal hardened his gaze. Her hands moved up and curved around his strong wrists.

  “Aaron?”

  He blinked, seemingly coming out of a trance. “Yes?”

  “I’m going back to my room to lie down.”

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  “I’m just a little tired,” she admitted truthfully.

  His hands dropped. “Do you want anything before you retire for bed?”

  “Just water, please.”

  Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her parted lips. “I’ll bring you the water.”

  She turned and walked down the hallway to the bedroom Aaron had assigned her, leaving him to stare at her back. She retreated to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. By the time Aaron walked into the bedroom she had slipped into a nightgown and was in bed with a pile of pillows cradling her back. Light from an exquisite Tiffany table lamp lit up the space with a soft, golden glow.

  He placed a carafe of water on the table beside the lamp. Removing the top, he filled it with water. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he smiled at her.

  “I’ve told Magda to prepare meals for you using only bottled water. Brazil’s water can be unkind to those who aren’t used to it.”

  She gave him a dazzling, dimpled smile. “Thank you, Aaron.”

  “Are you going to be all right sleeping here alone?”

  Her lids lowered as her smile slipped away. “I think so.”

  “If you need me I’ll be in the bedroom on the other side of the dressing room. I’m going to leave the doors open, just in case…”

  She placed her fingertips over his lips, stopping his words and savoring the feel of hair covering his upper lip. “Stop worrying about me,” she chided softly. “I’ll be okay.”

  His fingers curled around her wrist and he pressed a kiss against the silken flesh of her inner arm. “Good night, Princesa.”

  “Boa noite,” she whispered softly.

  Her gaze followed him as he opened the door to the dressing room. “Remember, I’ll be less than fifty feet away if you need me.”

  She nodded, then sank down to the pillows and stared up at the unusual ceiling, not seeing Aaron as he lingered in the doorway. Closing her eyes, she placed a hand over her belly. Her breathing deepened and within minutes she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Sleep wasn’t as kind to Aaron as he lay in bed hours later, staring at the half-moon suspended in the nighttime sky. The day had been one of surprises—Regina’s arrival, and the news that she was carrying his child.

  When she fled Mexico he had thought he would never see her again, despite her written promise that she would come to him. Now she had come, but not alone.

  A wide smile split his face. He was going to be a father. It was after he had made love to Regina the first time that he realized it was the only time that he had slept with a woman and had not protected her. It had taken only that one time to get Regina pregnant.

  When he offered to marry her she had spurned him. She was willing to share the next six months of her life with him, but would not commit to sharing her future or his child with him.

  His fingers curled into tight fists. What was there about her that made him so vulnerable? Why had he permitted her to challenge him over and over? What power did she hold over him so that he thought of her first and himself second?

  What he felt for her went beyond love. She had become his obsession.

  Regina woke two hours before dawn with a gnawing hunger gripping her stomach. The glowing red numbers on the clock were clearly displayed in the darkness. Her pulse quickened. The room was dark, but she had not remembered turning off the lamp.

  Closing her eyes, she counted backward slowly, hoping to quell the rising panic in her chest. She had nothing to fear; she was safe. Aaron was not far away. His words came rushing back, stemming her trepidation. If you need me I’ll be in the bedroom on the other side of the dressing room.

  She did not want to need him, even though she did. Somehow she forced herself to sit up and reach for the lamp. Her fingers grazed the base, moving slowly upward until she pulled the delicate chain. Within seconds the room was flooded with warm, comforting, protective, golden light.

  The door to the dressing room stood open, and she smiled. All she had to do was leave her bed, walk across the room, and walk through the dressing room to find Aaron.

  Instead of going to Aaron, she made her way to the bathroom to splash water on her face and brush her teeth. The pangs of hunger grew stronger, and she knew she had to put something into her stomach.

  Opening her bedroom door, she glanced out into the hallway. A lighted wall sconce at the head of the staircase provided enough illumination for her to navigate the stairs safely. Her bare feet were silent as she went in search of her pre-dawn snack.

  She hadn’t stepped off the last stair when she noticed the silhouette of someone closing the front door, and she wondered if Aaron had left the house to meet with his foreman. It was only a little after four o’clock, and he said he usually met the foreman at five.

  Shrugging a bare shoulder under her revealing silk nightgown, she made her way into the dimly lit kitchen, flicking a wall switch for the overhead lights. Three minutes later she sat at a large oaken table, drinking a glass of chilled milk and eating a banana.

  A low whistle punctuated the silence, and she turned and stared at Aaron as he leaned against the arched entrance to the kitchen, his arms crossed over his T-shirt-covered chest. He was casually dressed in a pair of jeans and work boots.

  She flashed a shy smile. “Good morning.”

  He shifted an eyebrow, his lips parting in a mysterious smile. “Good morning back to you. I take it you’re hungry?”

  “Starved,” she confirmed, wrinkling her delicate nose.

  He pushed away from the wall and closed the distance between them. Leaning over her, he curved his fingers around her neck and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll fix you something to eat.”
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  She inhaled the warmth of his clean, masculine body. “Are you going to join me?”

  He stared down at her, and she stared up at him with an expectant look in her dark eyes. He usually ate breakfast after he returned from the fields, but that practice would change, along with everything else in his life, now that Regina lived under his roof.

  He ran a finger down the length of her nose. “Yes.” His mouth replaced his finger.

  “Do you need help?”

  Hunkering down in front of her, he held her hands loosely in his warm, strong grip. “I want you to sit and relax. I’ll take care of you while offering you everything you’ll ever need.”

  Regina studied the lean, dark face with the high cheekbones, slanting eyes, and the strong masculine mouth beneath the neat, clipped moustache. Placing her fingertips over his lips, she leaned over and pressed a kiss at the corner of his mouth, unable to believe she loved him as much as she did.

  There was a time she had thought she was captivated by Aaron because he had come into her life when she had been most vulnerable, that he had filled a void no man, including his father, had been able to fill. Closing her eyes, she realized she wanted him to take care of her. In Mexico he had promised to protect her, and she came to a realization that for the next six months she would permit him to do that.

  Opening her eyes, she met his penetrating gaze. “I think I could get used to that.”

  He smiled, but the warmth of the expression did not quite reach his eyes. “Whether you get used to it doesn’t matter much, because you don’t have a choice.”

  She inhaled sharply, frowning. “I can’t believe your arrogance.”

  “It has nothing to do with arrogance or what you believe, Regina.”

  “Then what do you call it?”

  Releasing her hands, he stood up and stared at her upturned face. “I will do whatever I have to do to take care of you. And whenever you doubt that, I’ll be the first to remind you of it.”

  A sudden anger lit her eyes at the same time she bit back the acerbic words poised on the tip of her tongue. What was it about Aaron Spencer that set her on edge the way a scrape of a fingernail across a chalkboard sent chills down her spine? Within a span of seconds he could ignite her desire until she vibrated with passion, then without warning douse the flames until she found herself spewing virulent words like a shrew.

  It would not happen this morning. He had goaded her for the last time. She schooled her expression to one of complacency. “I’ll make certain you don’t have to remind me, Dr. Spencer.”

  His forehead furrowed in an angry scowl. “You just have to have the last word, don’t you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve warned you about using my professional title.”

  “Are you or aren’t you a doctor?”

  “At the hospital, or at the institute. But never in my home.”

  She lowered her gaze in a demure gesture. “I’m sorry, Aaron.”

  Reaching down, he pulled her gently to her feet. “Are you really sorry?” His angry gaze softened, moving from her eyes to her shoulders and still lower, to the soft swell of breasts rising above the lace of her nightgown.

  Rising on tiptoe, she moved closer, pressing her breasts to his chest. “No,” she whispered inches from his mouth.

  “I thought not,” he murmured softly. His right hand moved slowly down her back until his fingers were splayed over a hip. “Why don’t you go upstairs and put on something less enticing while I prepare something to eat, because if you continue to tempt me in that nightgown I’m afraid I’m going to be the only one eating this morning.”

  “You wouldn’t take advantage of me like that.” There was no mistaking the thread of disbelief in her incredulous tone.

  He released her, his hands going to the waistband of his jeans. His fingers were poised on the zipper when Regina turned and rushed out of the kitchen, his unrestrained, ribald laughter following her departing figure.

  She was right. He would never take advantage of her. Yet the lingering image of her slender, swaying hips stayed with him as he opened the refrigerator. The image was not of an erotic nature. Seeing Regina completely nude the day before had sent a warning signal to his brain when she revealed that she was pregnant. Her hips were narrow—much too narrow to allow for an easy delivery if she carried a large baby to term.

  Aaron went completely still, his hand reaching for a bottle of milk and halting in midair. He was thinking as a doctor, not as a man who loved Regina and hoped to marry her, but she wasn’t his patient. She would be Nicolas Benedetti’s patient for the duration of her stay in Bahia. He had to inform his colleague of his concerns for the mother of his unborn child.

  Half an hour later he looked up to find Regina striding into the kitchen with a “Don’t mess with me” mien radiating from her face and carriage. His admiring gaze swept from her damp curly hair to a straight, slender, cotton skirt and matching blouse in a flattering melon-orange down to her well-groomed feet in a pair of leather sandals in the same melon shade.

  “You look beautiful.” The adoration in his eyes mirrored his statement.

  She folded her hands on her hips, flashing a saucy grin. “Beautiful enough to eat?”

  Pulling out a chair from the table, he bowed from the waist. “Sit down, Princesa, and oblige me,” he said teasingly.

  “Perhaps another time, Sweetheart. Right now your baby and its mother need nourishment.”

  He seated her, lingering over her head for several seconds. Even though Regina had informed him that he had gotten her pregnant, she had been referring to their unborn child as my baby.

  “Say it again,” he whispered.

  She went still. “Say what, Aaron?”

  “Tell me it’s my baby.”

  Turning slightly, she looked up at him, her expression softening. “It’s not yours or mine, but ours.”

  Bending, his lips slowly descended to meet hers. “Yes, Princesa, it is ours.”

  Regina caught his hand, holding it tightly, and when their lips parted she pressed a soft kiss to his palm, rewarding him with a sensual smile.

  Aaron straightened, reluctantly withdrawing his fingers and moving away to place the plates that he had kept warming on the table. The dreamy intimacy evoked by their kiss lingered far beyond breakfast.

  Regina sat in the Range Rover beside Aaron, staring out the window as he drove slowly past acre after acre of coffee fields. He chanced a quick glance at her profile behind the lenses of his sunglasses.

  “I divided this year’s crop into four varieties, each one encompassing several thousand acres.”

  She turned to look at him. “Which ones have you decided to plant?”

  “Conilon, Typica, Bourbon, and Caturra.”

  Smiling, she turned her attention back to the passing landscape. That explained why some of the plants were large bushes or shrubs while others were small trees.

  “Do you usually get enough rainfall to sustain a good harvest?”

  “Most times we do. But I installed a sophisticated irrigation system two years ago just in case the rainfall is lower than usual. Several years back nearly every coffee grower in Brazil suffered enormous losses when a frost swept the country.”

  Maneuvering off the single-lane unpaved road, he shifted into four-wheel drive and drove up a rutted road until he stopped at the top of a hill. A tall, thin man came out of a small cabin at the same time Aaron stopped and turned off the sport utility vehicle’s engine.

  A bright smile curved the man’s mouth when he spied Aaron getting out of the late-model four-wheel drive vehicle. “Bom dia, Senhor Spencer. You are later than usual this morning.”

  “Bom dia, Sebastião,” Aaron replied, a mysterious smile parting his lips. He rounded the Range Rover and opened the passenger side door for Regina. Extending his arms, his hands circled her waist as he lifted her effortlessly before setting her on her feet. His foreman’s surprise was apparent when he snatched
a worn straw hat from his head and crushed it to his chest.

  “Sebastião, this is Regina Spencer.” His arm tightened around her waist. “Regina, Sebastião Rivas, my foreman and the person most responsible for the excellent quality of da Costa’s superior coffee crop year after year.”

  Sebastião bobbed his head up and down as he clutched his hat tighter to his chest. “Muito prazer, Senhora Spencer.”

  “He says he’s pleased to meet you,” Aaron translated the Portuguese into Spanish.

  Regina inclined her head. “Muito prazer, Senhor Rivas,” she replied, trying out her limited Portuguese again.

  Sebastião’s gaze was directed to her left hand, where the rising sun fired the diamonds that made up her wedding band. Aaron saw the direction of his gaze. Regina had not removed the ring his father had given her to symbolize their union, and he was grateful she hadn’t, because it eliminated his need to deceive others who assumed they were husband and wife. He wanted to protect Regina from unnecessary gossip concerning what would be obvious with her impending motherhood.

  Regina listened intently as Aaron and his foreman lapsed into a serious discussion of the number of laborers needed to harvest the current crop, she understanding less than half of what was said in rapid Portuguese. Her six months in Brazil would be put to good use: renovating the da Costa garden and learning Portuguese.

  Aaron, with Sebastião’s assistance, had modernized the da Costa coffee plantation. Higher labor costs were offset by using modern techniques, including the use of fertilizers, herbicides, pesticides, mechanization, and irrigation.

  He ended his daily encounter with the foreman, shaking his hand. Turning, he directed his attention to Regina, who had walked to the summit of the rise and stared down at countless acres of coffee plants stretching down to the ocean.

  Walking up behind her, he curved both arms around her waist, pulling her back to lean against him. “What are you thinking?”

  She laid her hands over his and closed her eyes. “It’s so beautiful here. So peaceful.”

  “That’s why I live here.” His voice deepened until it resembled a sensual growl against her ear.