Proud Revenge Passionate Wedlock

by Janette Kenny

  She pulled back and stared at his arrogantly handsome face, expecting a glint of reluctance or hopefully humor after tossing out that name. But his features were too remote for her to read.

  “Are you serious?” she asked. “The Quinta Avenida at night is a swarm of tourists, celebrities wishing to be seen and paparazzi.”

  He smiled and not a kind one. “Afraid your lover will see us together on the cover of a slick rag, querida? Or has your romance with Amando Rivera ended?”

  “Amando! You can’t believe I’d court his interest.”

  His gaze blazed into hers with brutal intensity. “I know you did.”

  “No! It wasn’t like that.”

  “It was exactly like that,” he said. “I know where and why you secretly met with him. When you left the hacienda that last day, so did he.”

  A dark memory of that day teased her mind and was gone, leaving her trembling with uncertainty and fear. Yes, she’d worked with Amando at first to help Miguel.

  But it had changed. All she was certain of was she had an intense dislike for the guard Miguel had hired to protect her.

  “Wear something slinky,” he said as she passed him on legs that still quaked and entered the bedroom they’d shared.

  “I’ve no idea if I have anything suitable,” she said.

  He waved a hand in the general direction of the bedroom, the movement sensuously masculine and dismissive as he punched in numbers on his mobile phone. “There is a red gown that would be perfect.”

  She went absolutely still as those words replayed in her mind, triggering a memory she’d forgotten. If it was the same dress—But it must be. She’d bought it at Miguel’s insistence.

  How could she have let that memory slip from her?

  The question pinged her mind as she crossed to the closet, hearing the timbre of his voice rattling off Spanish but too engrossed in having captured a lost memory than to eavesdrop on his conversation.

  She ran a shaky hand through her hair, remembering the shopping excursion as clearly as if it’d just happened. He’d taken her to an elite shop nearly one year ago, for the functions he’d be attending that fall demanded that his mistress be decked out to the nines.

  Though he never told her what she could or couldn’t wear, it was obvious he preferred elegant fashions over slinky ones. Since she wasn’t comfortable wearing revealing fashions, it was a perfect match.

  Until the clerk brought out the red gown and proclaimed it was made for her.

  She’d had just enough sips of champagne to take the dare.

  And the gown was daring with the front consisting of two gathered swaths of glittery fabric that covered her bosom, and the back bared nearly to the dimples in her bum. It fit like skin, and she’d laughingly told Miguel she’d not be able to wear undergarments with it.

  His eyes had blazed so hot they’d chased away her chills.

  He’d bought it, and she’d set it aside for the gala that December. But a week later she’d discovered she was pregnant, and by the time the gala came around, her figure no longer fit the daring gown.

  “Did you find it?” he asked behind her, his breath warm on her nape.

  “Yes.” She took it from the closet where it had hung in its protective bag, and her face burned with embarrassment. Don’t look at him. Don’t let him know how this dress and his closeness affected her.

  Allegra slipped another hanger off the rod and draped a deep blue gown with generous drapes over the red one. “In case the red one doesn’t fit.”

  “Of course.”

  Must he stand so close? Must he smell so incredibly male? Must her body choose now to come out of its deep sleep?

  What was she thinking by agreeing to do this?

  His indecent proposal should infuriate her. It was an insult to their marriage. To her as a woman.

  It reduced their marriage that had begun for her with such hope to a purely carnal level.

  She should tell him to go to hell and call his bluff. But she couldn’t force the words out.

  Miguel didn’t bluff. He’d drag out their divorce for years, and the emotional toil would ruin her more than the financial loss.

  She couldn’t let that happen. Besides, the idea of lying in her husband’s arms again roused the primitive beast in her—a beast she’d thought she’d never witness again.

  Only with Miguel, her heart warned.

  She met his steady gaze with a tentative smile. “So this is it? There are no other surprises for me agreeing to do this charade?”

  “None.” He held his head at an imperious angle, his eyes hooded, his broad shoulders dusted with glittering bits of white sand that she longed to brush off. “I will advise my attorney to begin divorce proceedings tomorrow, and I’ll give you fair market value for the beach house at the end of the week.”

  “One week. That’s how long this fling will last?” she asked.

  “Sí. Did you expect less? More?”

  She shook her head, embarrassed to admit she hadn’t thought that far ahead. She’d agreed to his outrageous offer without knowing the details.

  She knew what that said about her, and so did he.

  “You will accompany me everywhere, querida.”

  He smiled a wolf’s smile and dropped a kiss on her mouth. So fleeting. So brief she thought she’d simply imagined it.

  “Day and night,” he said against her lips.

  Those last words ribboned through her to tie her emotions in knots. It took every ounce of willpower to keep from leaning into his touch. Just like that and her resolve nearly shattered again.

  “Cocktails are at eight,” he said, striding toward the master bedroom. “We leave in two hours. Do not be late.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she got out as he flung his towel on the bed and strode toward the shower, shucking his swim trunks with masculine grace.

  Thoughts about her inadequate figure swathed in a gown that left nothing to the imagination left her. Her gaze swept down his beautifully bronzed sculpted body, admiring his muscular back, narrow hips, tight bum and long, long legs.

  Warmth spread over her like the first fingers of a new dawn cresting the horizon. Heat as thick and hot as lava flowed through her veins.

  As before, Miguel was fire in her veins. She’d never lusted for a man as she had him, and she certainly hadn’t expected to feel the same charged energy course through her again, not after all they’d been through.

  But it was there—stronger than before.

  She bolted up the stairs to the guest room and blocked everything from her mind but getting through this night. She’d returned for closure and she’d have it. If going through the motions of marriage with Miguel was the only means to achieve it, then so be it.

  She’d suffered the worst life had to hand her when her darling daughter had died. She’d managed to push past the grief and remorse.

  She could certainly do what Miguel wanted of her and not lose her dignity or her pride. And if he captured her heart again?

  Well, she’d been through that, too, and survived.

  After a quick shower that refreshed her spirits somewhat, she stepped into the crimson gown and took an appraising look at her reflection. The style was more risqué than she’d recalled, but her weight loss was an asset to the design. She’d never aspired to have a model’s figure, but she had one now.

  Fortunately the gown hid the scar marking her surgery. What would Miguel think when he saw it? Would he still want her?

  She pinched her eyes shut and loosed a groan of disgust. It didn’t matter what he thought of her body. She was his paramour for one week.

  Nothing more. Nothing less.

  She ran the brush through her mass of hair, then twisted it into a simple chignon. A bit of makeup and she stepped back to take stock of herself. She heaved a sigh, pleased she’d donned the image of the sophisticated wife of a billionaire.

  All she needed now was the courage to carry her downstairs and throw herself into t
he role of his wife that she’d vowed to assume until her dying day. It should be easy, since she’d discovered one vital thing hadn’t changed.

  She was still in love with her husband.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MIGUEL stood by the window and stared out to sea, but still only saw the hunger in Allegra’s blue eyes when he’d tossed out his proposition. He’d thought she’d balk when she realized he’d set them up to be targets of the gossip rags. He’d expected anger at being forced to do his bidding in order to gain her freedom.

  But she hadn’t hesitated long before agreeing to resume the role of his wife, leaving him to believe that she wanted out of their marriage so badly that she’d prostitute herself.

  She was a money-grabbing schemer. She’d likely run through the funds she’d gained by selling the jewelry she’d stolen and was desperate to sell the beach house to fund her affair. Was Amando Riveras waiting for her to return to him with a fat purse, or had she taken a new lover?

  That possibility was a fresh knife thrust in his heart. He hated her as hotly as he’d once desired her for taking his child when she ran off with her lover, for her defiance ended his niña’s life. He’d been sure her deceit had burned out all feelings in him save vengeance.

  But being with her again, drawing in her provocatively sweet scent, being close enough to run his hands through her wealth of hair and glide his palms over her creamy soft skin had reawakened the unbridled lust she’d always ignited in him.

  She was the spark to his tinder, and he was powerless to put out the flames of desire.

  He prided himself on his steely control—until he’d met her. She was the enigma that slipped past his defenses. She was the waif who stole into his thoughts when he needed his rapier wits about him.

  She was the one person who struck fear in him, for the feelings she roused terrified him more than the very real possibility of something ill befalling her.

  Even now he caught himself concerned about her drastic weight loss that went beyond her losing her baby weight. He knew well she’d always fussed about being too heavy when he’d thought her perfect.

  Now she had the figure to rival a fashion model. The pale fragile complexion was indicative of someone who’d spent an exorbitant amount of time indoors. In bed with Amando?

  He swore and ran a hand over his just-shaved jaw as he thought of his wife making love with the man he’d hired to guard her. How long had it taken for the man to seduce Allegra?

  The attraction had to have taken root before she gave birth to Cristobel. While her belly was swollen with his child, the man he’d handpicked to guard his wife from a kidnapper had seduced her.

  And she’d welcomed Amando’s attentions!

  He’d known Allegra was unhappy with their marriage those past few months. She hated living at Hacienda Primaro. She had argued bitterly with his madre. She complained about being shut out of his life and wished to hold a position within his corporation.

  “A Gutierrez wife does not work in that sense,” he’d told her. “Your job is your home and family.”

  “I’ll go crazy here with so little to do,” she’d insisted.

  He refused to be moved. “Then perhaps you should ask Madre what causes you could lend your name and time to.”

  She’d said no more about holding a job after that. He’d thought she’d finally understood her position.

  But he’d been wrong.

  While he was immersed in helping the indigenous people survive a catastrophe, she was stealing a fortune in jewels and leaving him with the man he’d hired to protect her from kidnappers.

  Miguel had returned to Hacienda Primaro to find his wife gone, his daughter dead and his marriage over. She’d flown back to England, not even staying for their niña’s burial.

  Over the ensuing months, his mind had conjured up a thousand scenarios of her and Amando secreted away. He spent countless sleepless nights envisioning ways to make her pay for carelessly endangering their daughter’s life, and for dragging him through this emotional hell.

  Miguel had been on the verge of hiring a detective to find her when her housekeeper in Cancún called him. Allegra had phoned to have her ready the beach house.

  He made sure he was here waiting for her.

  He squinted at the dark line gathering on the horizon. Would he find peace of mind after he extinguished the vengeance that burned in him night and day? Would he ever be free of the guilt that battered his heart because he’d not been there to stop his wife from leaving with his darling niña?

  He tipped his head back and stared at the pristine-white ceiling where a fan gently stirred the air that was rife with tension. He’d paid off this house for her as her bride’s gift.

  Their love nest, she’d called it.

  It had been, too, for they’d retreated here when they needed to be alone. They’d created their beautiful niña here.

  Unease rippled over his skin. If she’d wanted out of her marriage, why hadn’t she asked for a divorce before? Why the hell hadn’t she left Cristobel with Madre when she ran off with Amando Riveras?

  The scuff of a shoe on the steps alerted him to her entrance. Before the accident, he always turned to greet her with a welcoming smile that mirrored his desire, always had been stunned by her natural beauty. Her poise. Her sensual aura that enveloped him in her white-hot woman’s heat.

  They’d had a passionate connection that he’d never felt with another woman. It caught him off guard to discover that attraction was still there—still as commanding as it had been that first day he’d seen her on the beach.

  But he wouldn’t let her know that. She’d lost that right to know what was in his heart when she left him for another man.

  Miguel faced her, his features carefully wiped clean of the emotions that kept him on edge. The erotically sensual woman before him made his pulse race.

  Even wearing such a provocative gown, she looked poised and sure of herself. Surely every man would lust after her tonight.

  “You are more alluring in that gown than I remember,” he said.

  The flush streaking across her cheeks and coloring her throat reminded him of the day he’d bought this dress for her. She’d blushed and fussed and told him that it would be months before she could fit into this gown because she’d just discovered she was pregnant.

  That day he’d started thinking of forever with this woman instead of an affair. That day he’d thought with his heart instead of his head, even though a part of him warned of the danger of caring too deeply for her.

  He wanted her, and was certain he’d not fall that deeply under her spell. But he had.

  He’d been terrified of loving her. And terrified of losing her.

  In the end he’d done both.

  He cut a sharp glance at his watch, blotting the provocative sight of her from his mind. Yet his body still hummed with awareness of her.

  He gritted his teeth and tamped down the raw animal need coursing through him. She came back for closure?

  Fine, he’d gladly help her slam the door on their past. But she was in for a rude shock, for when he was done with her, she’d have nothing. She’d gotten all she was going to get from his family.

  No, that was a lie. He’d lived for the moment when the business dinner was concluded, when he and Allegra returned here tonight. When she upheld her agreement to be his wife in all ways. When he took her heart again. And when he dumped her as she had him, she’d know the pain of betrayal.

  He let his gaze sweep up her, slowly this time, noting the tensing in her limbs and inviting swell of her bosom. The telling hip thrust was a primitive and provocative invitation for him to push her against the wall and take her now.

  Sí, she was a temptress. He ruthlessly tamped down his urges and shifted to ease the ache of his arousal.

  Tonight he’d indulge in what she offered.

  Tonight she’d be his to command. To conquer.

  “Where is your jewelry?” he asked, his deep voice startling h
er from admiring the refined gentleman standing before her.

  Miguel had told her once that his Spanish ancestors had come to Mexico to conquer it. That one conquistador had seduced a Mayan princess yet settled here, joining two worlds, two cultures.

  His grandfather had achieved great wealth. His father had capitalized on it to increase the fortune. But it was Miguel’s cunning and daring that propelled the family holdings well into the exalted group of billionaires.

  He was a conquistador, his bearing proud and unflinching. His jawline was strong, the cheekbones high and pronounced. He had a straight aristocratic nose, and his dark mocha eyes glittered with a mesmerizing light that burned from within.

  But the feature she’d loved most about Miguel was the shape of his mouth. The lower lip was full and curved just so. The upper one had a generous bow that arched as if hinting he was always amused.

  Or mocking, as he seemed now.

  Allegra stuffed a few essentials into an evening bag, annoyed his spicy scent wrapped around her like loving arms. It annoyed her that he’d brought up the subject of jewelry.

  She turned her left hand so he could see her rings. She’d found tape in a cabinet in the loo and added enough to keep her rings from falling off her fingers.

  “The gold chain did nothing for the gown,” she said, when his dark gaze fixed on hers again.

  She’d left her jewelry at the hacienda. She didn’t miss the extravagant pieces that had passed down through his family, for the designs dripping with gems had never appealed to her. But she mourned the loss of those few items, especially the emerald suspended on a delicate gold chain, that he’d given her after she’d told him she was pregnant.

  A sacred bond, he’d called it. Green gems held special meaning for the Mayan, so it was only fitting that they commemorate their union with an emerald, and mark the conception of their firstborn daughter with one as well.

  His thick eyebrows slanted, his gaze appraising, his stance domineering. “Perhaps the effect is better without adornments.”