Perhaps he’d been too quick in thinking the heat meant life. Maybe the voice belonged to an angel that had come to lead him to heaven. At least he was out of the sea, although he couldn’t remember why he’d been in it in the first place.
There was a disturbingly empty void where knowledge should have been. Not that it mattered. Not any more. He was on his way to the afterlife. Well, that was alright with him as long as it contained this pleasant warmth.
Whatever he didn’t know, he knew there was definitely an angel. A pair of hands went with the voice. He could feel them move on his body now, gentle and assessing. Then he felt the whole of the angel replace the skimming hands. The angel drew him into a full embrace, her front to his chest.
His angel was definitely a her. The weight of full, bare breasts met the cold skin of his torso. Long legs matched against his. The angel didn’t let any part of his body go without her heat. Her arms pressed against his back, her head found a resting place against his shoulder. He could smell the cleanliness of her hair. Grayson wished he could open his eyes and see its color. It felt like silk and smelled like roses. But there wasn’t enough strength in him for that yet.
Grayson felt calmness claim him. His mind began to free itself from the trappings of unconsciousness, finally able to embrace a true sleep. Beside him, the angel shifted slightly. Warmth and peace suffused him. He welcomed the tranquility. Grayson slipped into sleep thinking if this was death, then let it come. Oh yes, let it come.
He squinted against the brilliant rays of sunlight piercing the room, giving into the temptation to close his eyes again.
He wasn’t dead. The startling realization was evidenced by the extraordinary soreness of his body and extreme hardness of his cock. He was alive and for some reason that was a cause for celebration. Had there been a chance of death?
He felt as if that was a distinct possibility. But something was terribly wrong. He didn’t know where he was. The room didn’t seem familiar. Surely he should recognize the bed he lay in. Worse, he couldn’t remember who he was. A gaping emptiness swamped his mind. Don’t panic, he told himself. Something had obviously happened and he was merely disoriented. If he laid still and concentrated, everything would come back in a moment. But a few minutes later, all he could recall was an angel.
He remembered an angel bringing warmth with a soft voice and gentle hands, an angel taking him against her body until he’d been surrounded by peace and warmth.
He risked the agony of turning his head sideways and cracking his eyes open against the light, wanting to validate the presence of the pleasant weight nestled against him.
No, he was most assuredly not dead nor was he alone. The woman lying with him explained the angel and his substantial erection. He wished he could raise himself up on one arm to see her better. But even if he had the strength to do so, such a feat would dislodge her from the pillow of his shoulder. He had to content himself with an awkward view of her from his prone position.
Still, he could see that she was beautiful in her repose. Inky hair fanned his chest, curling slightly into waves at the ends. A neatly trimmed hand lay in the center of his torso, rising and falling with each breath. His blankets had become tangled in the night, leaving a long expanse of her leg bare to the morning air where it mingled intimately with his own limbs. He’d been right. His angel was entirely naked. The realization did nothing to alleviate the ache of his arousal.
Before he could do anything further, the door to the bedroom opened and someone from the group crowding into the room shouted too loudly for his head, “Senor Alejandro! Madre di Dios! It’s you! You’re alive and well and back where you belong, in your wife’s bed.”
Chapter 5
An odd sense of relief filled him. He had a name. Alejandro. He wished he could say it sounded familiar but it didn’t. Still, it was a start. He had not caught the rest of what had been said in a rush of voices that drowned each other out. He only knew that he recognized the language spoken by those clamoring at his bedroom door, at least in part. And the “wife” part had certainly gotten his attention.
Determined to get a better look at his surroundings, Alejandro momentarily forgot the pains of his sore body and levered himself up to see the source of the commotion. He winced as his body reminded him of the effort such a movement took. The woman beside him stirred, dislodged from the hollow of his shoulder. Reflexively, Alejandro twitched a blanket over her for modesty. But it hardly mattered. The doorway was crowded with onlookers and they’d seen enough to know both of the room’s occupants were stark naked.
The woman was fully awake now, sitting up and hugging a blanket to her, speaking to the group in a rapid torrent of Spanish he couldn’t completely follow in spite of his easy recognition. With a broad grin, a woman ushered them from the door, shutting it firmly behind her.
Alejandro fell back against the pillows, partly in relief and partly out of his own exhaustion. The woman climbed out of bed and began dressing, not at all self-conscious about the fact that he was watching her. How could he not? She was exquisitely made. Should he know her? Such a display of intimacy suggested he should as did the gleeful yelling at the door. But his mind registered nothing in the way of recognition. Perhaps he’d misunderstood the shouts.
She said nothing as she dressed. Alejandro was happy enough to watch his angel in silence, appreciating the curves of her hips, the fullness of her breasts. She had a seductive lushness about her that suggested she had come into the prime of her mature beauty. The innocence of a young girl had given way to the earthy beauty of a woman who knew her worth.
She finished dressing and turned back to the bed, smoothing the blankets to make a space to sit on the edge. She smiled, reaching up to twist her long hair into a simple bun. The movement pronounced her breasts although Alejandro did not think the action was intentional.
She smiled. “You are alive. That is good. We did not think you would make it last night.”
“We? Who is ‘we’? Where exactly am I? How did I get here?” Questions rolled hoarsely off his tongue in English. The roughness of his voice horrified him. Then he realized he’d understood one language and spoken another in the span of five minutes. Which one was native to him?
His angel reached for his hand in a gesture of comfort. He found her touch soothing to his alarmed nerves. “Do you remember nothing about last night?” Her dark eyes searched his face.
Alejandro felt helpless, completely unmanned by his inability to recall the events that led to his current circumstances. “No, I don’t.” He paused. “I didn’t even remember my name. I would not know it now if it hadn’t been for the people in the doorway shouting it.” He admitted the last part begrudgingly, aware of the panic rising in his hoarse voice.
Her thumb traced a line over and over across the back of his hand. Her face took on a look of contemplation at his news. She was silent for a bit, apparently considering the import of what he’d shared. At last she spoke. “You suffered a great tragedy last night,” she said slowly, weighing each word. “The ship you were on went down not far from the coast and you washed up on shore fairly quickly. I can only surmise that you abandoned the ship under your own power and deliberately struck out for the beach before your strength gave out or before you risked an injury from staying on the ship too long.”
Alejandro closed his eyes in dismay. Her description triggered nothing. Such an event should have been dominant in his mind. Who wouldn’t remember such an ordeal?
She stood up. He felt her weight leave the bed. “Don’t worry. It will come back.” She reassured him, apparently reading his mind, what there was of it. “Rest, I’ll fetch you some hot food and we can talk some more.”
He let his lovely rescuer get to the door before he asked one more question. “What did those people this morning say? They seemed very glad to see me although I didn’t recognize them.”
Elena gave him a coy smile and a delightful laugh. “They said it was good to see you back in your
wife’s bed.”
Chapter 6
Elena shut the door swiftly behind her to forestall the flood of questions that statement would bring. She had heard the servants’ comments and now she hurried to the kitchens to discover their source.
She could hear the kitchen noise before she entered it but everyone fell silent upon her arrival. Elena placed her hands on her hips and fixed everyone with a firm stare. “Who spread the news that the man upstairs is Alejandro?”
She already had a fair idea who it was. Only two women had been with her last night and would have had a long time to study the man they’d dragged from the sea. Only one of them had the nerve to take such a drastic step with such claims.
Anna stepped forward, wiping her floury hands on an apron. “I did, Senora. Such good news is meant to be shared. We’ve all been praying for it.”
Elena nodded. “I thank everyone for their efforts,” she said carefully. She was not yet ready to share the truth—that would limit her options before she knew what they were. Best to play it neutral. “There is much to be done today. The fields won’t wait. Let’s be about our business as if this were an ordinary day.”
General relief swept the group and workers soon deserted the kitchen for their various jobs. Elena was left with Anna, who had turned her attention back to the daily task of baking bread.
“He’s not Alejandro,” Elena said quietly, tying on an apron and grabbing a chunk of unbaked dough to knead.
Anna shrugged. “He could be. You need him to be.”
“He used an English word with me last night after everyone left and when he spoke to me this morning, he had an English accent,” Elena said, surprisingly deflated by this obvious flaw in the plan.
Anna gave a negligent shrug. “Alejandro has been gone for nearly a year. Who’s to say he hasn’t spent that year in Britain or among Englishmen? It’s not uncommon for our sailors to pick up strange ways in different ports. It’s happened before.”
Elena punched the dough. “What you’re suggesting is impersonation. It’s fraud. It’s illegal to say nothing of immoral.”
“Those are such big words for an uneducated woman like me or for any of us living here in this tiny village by the sea, Senora. I don’t see how a little mistake could be something as evil as a crime.”
Elena snorted. Anna might not lay claim to traditional education but she was quite smart in the ways of people. Elena knew precisely what the woman was suggesting. If they were caught in their deception to pass the stranger off as Alejandro, how could anyone prove the act had been premeditated? And really, who would care enough to question it in the first place when so many wanted to believe it? They were a small village on the coast of Galicia. They lived a remote and isolated life. The nearest town of significant size, Santiago de Compostela, was three days away.
But Elena knew one person who would definitely be suspicious. “Senor Alicante would question it. It’s too convenient that my husband would return in the nick of time,” she said.
Anna shoved the bread into the massive brick oven. “If he’s the only one smelling a rat, he won’t get very far.” She turned back to Elena. “No one wants to see Senor Alicante get his hands on this property or on you. But there’s nothing to stop him except the return of your husband. You’ve got four weeks left and you’re out of time. Now this man who could pass for Alejandro appears. Seems like a miracle to me. All you have to do is put it to him in just the right way.”
Elena’s hands stopped their kneading. “That won’t be difficult. He doesn’t remember anything.” She said the last in hushed tones—the temptation of Anna’s suggestion already niggling at her, eating away at the ethical barriers that said she should not even consider the outrageous plan.
“Ah.” Anna’s eyes gleamed. “It seems as if the angels have intervened on your behalf, Senora. One does not get a clearer sign than that.”
Elena drew a deep breath. “What if his memory returns?”
“You saved his life,” Anna said easily. “He owes you. Besides, even if his memory does return, I can’t imagine he’d mind too much. I got an eyeful of that cockstand he was sporting beneath the sheets this morning. You can seduce him if you have to.” Anna winked.
“We don’t know who he is. What if he’s someone important and someone comes looking for him?” Other thoughts ran unspoken through her head. What if he had a wife somewhere else? Children? How many sins would she be committing if she seduced him into her plot? What if he turned out to be a criminal?
“You will have to decide soon, Senora,” Anna humphed, bustling to another task. “Word will reach the village soon enough and Don Alicante has ears everywhere.”
Elena nodded silently and began preparing a tray of broth, tea and bread. “I’ll think about it.” But she knew Anna was right. She had very little time to think. Word would leak out—it always did in a small village where any variation in the day was looked upon with excitement and speculation. By supper tonight, everyone would know Alejandro di Duero had been cast up by the sea and spent his first night home in bed with his wife. In the taverna, his old friends may even talk about the explicit details of the morning, how Elena and Alejandro had both been naked and tangled in the sheets. As in the past, they would think nothing of sparing Elena’s modesty with their ribald comments.
Elena picked up the tray and started the trip back upstairs. In some ways the decision had already been made for her. There would be a scandal later if her duplicity was discovered. But in truth, there would be a scandal now if she denounced the man. How could she explain her naked presence in a man’s bed who wasn’t her husband? All of her household had seen them.
The idea of saying ‘I threw off all my clothes because I thought it could save his life’ sounded ridiculous even to her, despite the fact that it had worked. Such a scandal would not help her keep her lands when Senor Alicante pressed his suit.
In fact, the scandal would destroy her entirely and Senor Alicante would not hesitate to brand her as a loose woman. She could just hear his accusations: how could such a woman who was irresponsible with her affections be trusted with the responsibility of a pazo the size and merit of the Duero holding? Elena knew already how such a case would play out. In this rugged coastal land, women were necessary but secondary citizens.
By the time Elena reached the top of the stairs, she knew what she had to do. There had never truly been a choice. Anna’s plan was audacious but the woman’s quick thinking had no doubt saved Elena from ruinous gossip. Elena didn’t like that events had been set in motion without her approval or control but there was nothing to be done now, nothing except opening the bedroom door and seducing the man beyond it into compliance.
Chapter 7
Elena pushed the door open with her hip, balancing the tray carefully. She’d been prepared to keep up a stream of chatter but all thought of easy small talk faded at the sight that greeted her.
The man had gotten out of bed. He stood at the window, his back to her, bare and magnificently muscled. He’d wrapped a sheet around his waist and his dark hair hung to his shoulders. He looked strong and uncontrollable. “I’ve brought you some hot broth. It will feel good to your throat,” she managed to say, finding herself somewhat dumbstruck by his physical beauty. But Alejandro had been a handsome man, too, and in the end, it had accounted for nothing. She must exercise caution.
He turned at the sound of her voice. “Here, let me take that. The tray looks heavy.” He was a gentleman in spite of whatever aches and sore muscles she knew he must possess after last night. He deftly relieved her of the tray and set it on a small table in the room. “Will you sit with me while I eat?” he asked.
Elena smiled and sat down, wondering how to begin her deception. She needn’t have worried. He picked their conversation up right where she’d left it.
“So, my name is Alejandro. We are married? This is my home?” he asked.
Elena hesitated only a fraction before she gave the nod that would commit her
fully to the deception and to this nameless man. “Yes, you are my husband, Alejandro di Duero, and I am your wife, Elena. I had given up hope of ever finding you alive again.” And if it hadn’t been for Don Alicante’s awful ultimatum, I’d have done my mourning and moved on with no desire to look back.
His dark brows furrowed. “Why is that?”
“Last year, you left on a ship to see about a cargo of Madeira but your ship went down in a storm off our coast, not unlike last night. The ship was destroyed before it could make it home. No survivors were found. Many bodies washed up on shore but not yours.” Elena cast her eyes down, though the story was true. Alejandro’s body hadn’t been found. And as a man of means, he would have come home to his wealthy pazo if he was still alive. “The villagers will think your return nothing short of a divine miracle.”
Alejandro huffed at that. “They’ll want to know why it took me so long. A man does not willingly forsake a beautiful wife without a word to anyone.” He reached for her hand across the table, startling her with the gesture. Elena scolded herself. She had to remember she had a part to play too. A wife would not jump at such a gesture.
“Do you love me, Elena?”
“I have waited all year in hopes of your return.” Again, it was the truth—his return was the only way she had to stop Don Alicante. Life with Alejandro’s indifference could be borne. She’d already proved that. She doubted she could say the same for a life lived under Don Alicante’s harsh rule.
He was studying her with intense gray eyes. Elena swallowed hard, her fears and something else—something warm and exciting, welling up inside her.
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