by Ginny Baird
“Fernando,” Jess gasped, pulling back. “We can’t.”
He studied her a thoughtful moment as she gazed at him wide-eyed.
“Then we won’t,” he said with a quick peck on her lips.
She shivered involuntarily in spite of herself. This man had a way of completely undoing her.
“We’ll have a little something to eat first.” He pulled several small bundles from his bag, along with a small knife and a cutting board.
“While we talk?”
“Of course,” he said, handing her a napkin for her slacks. “Then afterwards, I’ll let you decide.”
“Decide what?”
Fernando shot her a sexy grin as he refilled her wine.
“Whether or not I’m the husband of your dreams.”
****
Chapter Four
“So, it’s not true,” Jess said with relief. “We’re not really married?”
Fernando took a slow sip of his wine, perusing her over the rim of his cup. “In the eyes of the church, we are.”
“And in the eyes of the state?”
“That’s more problematic,” he bantered back.
“More problematic how?”
“Jessica,” he said with a lingering look, “I told you the paperwork takes time to process.”
“Seven to ten days,” she replied, restating what he’d told her earlier.
“Best-case scenario.”
“Because everything’s been submitted to the magistrate in Seville?”
“La Esperanza del Corazón is a small town,” he said deferentially. “Anything here has to be sent to a higher authority.”
“Fernando,” she said, meaning it absolutely. “I need you to level with me. What’s in this pretense of a marriage for you?”
He set down his cup, then took her own and put it aside. “Everything is at stake for me. More than you imagine.”
“Like?” she pressed.
Fernando heaved a sigh, surveying the panorama around him.
“Like…” he said, with a weighty frown, “this place here. The ranch. My mother’s sustenance.”
Jessica sat up a little straighter as north winds rippled, stirring the branches above them.
“I don’t understand.”
“My grandfather was a proud man. Proud and stubborn too. He decided long ago that he wished his legacy to continue. His commitment to the bulls, his attachment to this land…”
“And?”
“He wrote it all down,” Fernando said. “He wasn’t about to take chances. Ernesto Garcia de la Vega wanted to ensure that his legacy would continue.”
“In what way?”
“In a way that ensured a continuation of the line.”
“You’re talking you, now?”
“I’m talking me and you. Don’t you understand what this means? How huge this is?”
She shook her head, utterly confused by his confession.
“Jessica,” he said, fiercely meeting her gaze. “If I don’t find a bride and produce offspring by the time I’m thirty-two, this whole thing is for naught. This estate, my inheritance, any support meant to go to my mother…will all fall through.”
“But how?” she asked, incredulous.
“It’s in the codicils of my grandfather’s will,” he answered flatly. “Either I marry my match and we produce an heir by my thirty-second birthday, or the entire estate goes to the Catholic Church of La Esperanza del Corazón.”
“No,” she said, fascinated and compelled at once.
“Please, tell me that you’ll help,” he said, meeting her eyes. “My mother is a strong woman, it’s true, possibly as fierce as they come. But this ranch is her home. She buried my father here and longs to have her final resting place beside him.”
Jess thought of her own mother and each of the struggles she’d endured as a single mom. As harsh as Señora Garcia de la Vega had come off during their lunch, Jess knew the woman was simply being protective of her only son. Jess frankly admired her for raising two children solo. She knew from her mother’s experience that task wasn’t easy. She didn’t know about Fernando’s sister, but the man himself had turned out decently enough. Perhaps better, in many ways, than she’d initially understood. While Fernando could be brash in business, there was a softer side to him she hadn’t been privy to until late last night. When he’d held her in his arms, he’d done so with a tenderness and a passion that no woman in her right mind could ignore. Jess had found it impossible to resist his advances, when—in truth—she ached for him just as desperately as he wanted her. It wasn’t just about sex; it was in the way he looked at her, in the way he promised that one thing she’d longed her entire lifetime to hear… And now there was another layer to him still, that of the caring and devoted son. Jess couldn’t help but find his commitment to family instantly appealing. Still, this notion was absurd. He couldn’t actually believe she’d consider it.
“There has to be another way,” she said. “Couldn’t you buy the ranch for your mother yourself? You make good money in Madrid.”
“Not that good.”
“How good is that?”
He studied at her sincerely. “This piece of land alone is worth over two billion dollars.”
“Billion?”
Fernando solemnly shook his head. “That’s a lot to spend on holy water.”
“But our…marriage…was so incidental. Surely, you didn’t plan on that.”
“No, it was an utter, and delightful, surprise,” he said with a warming smile. “In fact, it was the best birthday present I’ve ever had.”
“Yesterday was your birthday?” she asked, intrigued.
“Early birthday present,” he said, correcting himself. “My actual birthday’s still eight days away. I’ll be thirty-one.”
Jess felt an instant flood of relief. “Well, then, you’re still good for another year!”
He raised his brow at her. “Babies take nine months.”
“Come on,” she said. “Since you didn’t bank on marrying me, you must have had a backup plan. What’s wrong with that?”
Everything was wrong with that, as far as Fernando was concerned. He studied her a long while, her cheeks flushed in the early evening breeze. Though he’d always found her attractive, he’d never truly understood her beauty until now. Jessica was unlike anyone he’d ever known. She wasn’t just some pretty face. She was as smart as she was strong, he was betting even as strong as his mother. To date, he’d not met any other woman of that caliber, and it both fascinated and terrified him.
The fact was, Fernando did have a backup plan—in the form of what most Americans called the little black book. He’d known for some time now that if the right woman didn’t come along on her own, he’d have to start taking serious measures by the time he turned thirty-one. It caused a knot in the pit of his stomach to think he’d likely have to settle. That was why he’d put the idea off, more and more over time. While there were plenty of eligible women who might fit the bill, Fernando deplored the thought of marrying someone for sheer convenience. Though he still held a fondness for some of his old girlfriends, it was hard to imagine fanning those flames into full-blown passion. Perhaps with effort and time, a deeper feeling might blossom over the years. But this was tough to believe when Fernando wasn’t even sure what type of emotion he was capable of. Up until last night, he didn’t think he had sentimentality in him. But when Jessica had turned those beautiful blue eyes toward his, he’d found a lump in his throat and a pounding in his chest that were completely unfamiliar. As tough as she was, she’d revealed a certain fragility when she’d bared her soul and shared her secret burden. He couldn’t help but hold her close and swear to her he’d make everything right. And he’d meant it too. This morning’s sun and his new sobriety hadn’t weakened his commitment.
“Jessica, I’d be lying to say I wasn’t feeling the squeeze of the timeline closing in. I understood I was under the gun with my birthday drawing near.”
Sh
e gasped at the harsh realization. “You took advantage of me. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
“That’s not so!” he said with a firmness that took her aback. She startled, notably shaken, making him feel an outrageous fool.
“Forgive me,” he said, collecting himself. “It’s just that what you said is so far from true.”
“Far from true, Fernando? You just admitted to me yourself you were under pressure to find a bride.”
“Maybe that’s why I let myself go.”
“I don’t understand,” she said kindly.
Fernando stroked his chin, carefully considering his next words. “You’ve seen how I am at work.”
“Tough as nails.”
“I’m tough when I need to be, yes. I’m also used to being in charge. So are you,” he went on with a grin, “which leads to some interesting…conversations.”
“Confrontations are more like it,” she said with a lighthearted laugh.
He gave her a lingering look. “True,” he said, “but neither of us has been mortally wounded yet.
“In any case,” he continued, “the pressure was starting to build. It was like my whole life had been decided for me, and I had no say in the matter. My birthday was coming up, and I’d have to find someone—just anyone—to fit the bill. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was think about it. I wanted to be young and carefree like any other thirty-year-old man without such weighty family responsibilities. And then the business associates with whom you and I had intended to share dinner made plans that fell through. Suddenly, it was just the two of us.”
“The two of us and a lot of sangria, as I recall,” she said with a modest blush.
He reached across the blanket and took her hand. “I wouldn’t take any of it back, Jessica. Nothing that happened yesterday evening. I don’t know how to explain this to you, but at the moment, marrying you not only seemed the right thing to do, it was like the fates had left me no choice. First, there you were—with those incredible eyes and that angelic smile—and then there was Padre Domingo. It was like nothing in my life had made sense up until that point, and then suddenly everything did. Can you understand what I’m telling you?”
Jess felt the warmth in her cheeks. “That you believe this was meant to happen?”
He nodded, then took her hand and gave the back of it a light kiss.
“Yes, querida. I do.”
Jess cursed her inner voice for saying she believed it too. This was the most outlandish situation she’d ever found herself in. And yet why did her heart beat faster each time his eyes lingered on hers? Why did part of her so want to believe he’d been put in her path for a reason? A reason that would bring her a better life of comfort and companionship. And, quite possibly, the one thing that up until now she’d refused to believe in? But, she couldn’t let herself believe it. Not here, not now, not with this handsome matador, for crying out loud. She was in Spain. Spain! Over three thousand miles from home. Jess had a commitment to family too, and hers lay across the Atlantic. As did her job, and very best friend on earth. She had to pull herself out of this fantasy while she still had the strength to walk away.
“I know you mean well,” she said softly. “And all that you’ve shared, your motivation for helping your mother, for saving your family’s ranch. Those are all things I understand; really I do. And I admire you, Fernando. Admire you greatly for putting your mother’s happiness above your own and wanting to do right by her and your grandfather’s bequest. But I’m not the right girl for this job. Surely, you’ll have lots of other takers.”
Fernando hung his head and turned away. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Yes, I’m sure you’re right. Dozens, maybe hundreds.”
She reached out and lightly touched his arm. He pulled away.
“The sun is sinking low,” he said. “I think it’s time we pack up and head in. I told my mother we’d be back by nightfall.”
“I’m sorry,” Jess said past the tenderness in her throat.
He leveled her with a gaze devoid of emotion. “Don’t be,” he said. “I’m not. Not sorry for anything.”
He helped her up on her horse, then mounted his own.
Fernando righted himself in his saddle.
“The first thing on Tuesday,” he said without looking at her, “I’ll take you to Seville. Just as you wish, we’ll get this annulled.”
****
Chapter Five
Ana María Garcia de la Vega pulled a tiny garment from the mahogany hope chest at the foot of her bed. The pure linen christening gown had been hand-embroidered by her grandmother and worn for generations. She gently strummed her fingertips across the daintily stitched white flowers adorning the piece’s bodice. When her daughter Margarita had worn it, Ana María hadn’t known she’d have no future children to dress in this little frock. She and her husband, Ernesto, had planned a large family. “Six children at least,” he’d said, the setting sun warming his eyes. He’d taken her in his arms and kissed her in a way that had melted her heart and weakened her knees. While her mother had warned her of the responsibilities of a honeymoon, she’d never imagined she’d enjoy taking to the task so much.
When Ernesto died at forty-nine, Ana María had been just thirty-three. Fernando was eight and Margarita barely four. There was time for one or two more, at least. But time ran out on them far earlier than either of them intended. Ana María cast a sad gaze to the window, watching as dusk settled over the hacienda. She heard horses approaching from afar and knew it was Fernando and Jessica returning from their ride. Even if Jessica was experienced with horses, Fernando should have known better than to take the chance. Ana María held the small gown to her chest, realizing she’d never actually considered how it might feel to be a grandmother. Jessica certainly was beautiful, and, if she worked in Fernando’s business, obviously smart. But what of her family? Her background?
The Garcia de la Vegas could trace their ancestry back seven generations—on both sides. Americans weren’t like that. Most of them were divorced and had no concept of family beyond the immediate. Even many of the closest relatives remained estranged, according to what Ana María had gathered from her perusal of the papers and study of American media. But if Fernando loved her… Ana María felt a lump in her throat. Who was she to deny true love, if this was real? Her parents hadn’t exactly been pleased she’d selected a matador as a groom. And yet they’d eventually come around, blessing them both with a lavish wedding and the gift of this ranch. Ana María had been raised here with her two brothers, neither of whom had survived to adulthood. Life was cruel that way, taking away the people you loved.
Ana María wiped her brow with the back of her arm, scolding herself for becoming sentimental. Sentimentality was a weakness reserved for those able to afford it. She carefully folded the baptismal gown, tucking it back in its nest. Though she’d never weighed it concretely, she knew Fernando would make a marvelous father. There was a man who understood the value of family and stuck by them. He’d been so good to her and to his sister Margarita. Ana María couldn’t imagine him lavishing anything but undying affection on the woman he’d picked as his bride, and any offspring they produced.
Ana María heard the heavy door swing shut downstairs and felt an instant wave of shame. Though she’d been cordial enough at lunch, she hadn’t precisely proved the welcoming mother-in-law. After all he’d done for her, who was she to doubt Fernando’s judgment? But…an American from Brooklyn! Ay. Ana María sighed heavily and closed the hope chest, securing it shut with its sculpted key. At least Fernando was moving forward, she supposed. Margarita, in her fancy flat in Barcelona, didn’t even have a boyfriend.
Fernando entered the foyer and dropped his satchel with a petulant scowl, Jessica trailing in his wake.
“Did you have a nice time?” Ana María asked as he breezed past her and headed for the study. Moments later, she heard the clattering of Waterford crystal and knew he was pouring himself a scotch from the
family decanter. She and Jessica startled as the study door snapped shut.
“I think I’m going to lie down,” Jessica said, appearing a bit disheveled. Her hair was tousled from the wind, her complexion lightly flushed. Her blue eyes were cloudy and troubled.
“Are you all right?” Ana María inquired.
Jessica blinked, then stared at her, her color deepening.
“It was just a bit of a ride.”
“I knew Fernando shouldn’t have—”
“No, please,” Jessica interrupted. “It’s okay. It’s not that I’m sick or anything. Just tired.”
Ana María studied her sympathetically. “Of course you are, dear.”
Jessica headed for the stairs with a zombie-like gaze, then began her slow ascent.
“Can I bring you some tea?” Ana María asked. “Decaffeinated?”
“Thanks, but no,” she said in a warbling voice.
Now, Ana María had heard of lovers’ spats. But it seemed a bit early in this brand-new marriage for them to be developing problems already.
She considered talking to Fernando but then thought better of it. Best to leave him alone and give him time to sort things out. Whatever the cause, it was sure to be something minor. The lovebirds would settle things by bedtime, if not before.
Ana María’s gaze followed Jessica up the stairs, a gentle melancholy taking hold. Ah, to be young and in love, like these two. Ernesto may have been gone awhile, but it wasn’t so long that Ana María had forgotten.
Dinner was a somber affair. Ana María sat at the elegantly set table, staring at the two empty chairs beside her. Though their places had been set, neither Fernando nor Jessica had appeared for the meal. Fernando had claimed he wasn’t hungry, and Jessica—feeling woozy—had petitioned to have a tray sent up to her room. Whatever had transpired during their ride had clearly driven a wedge between them. Then again, misunderstandings often happened early in a marriage. Fernando and Jessica were just now getting to know each other as husband and wife. This put them in a different place than lovers. Once you’d bound yourselves to one another for eternity, you started to view certain things differently.
