Proud Revenge Passionate Wedlock

by Janette Kenny

  She’d returned for answers, but was more confused than before. Someone had tried to kidnap Cristobel. Perhaps her as well. Her going off without Amando played into their hands.

  “I don’t blame you for hating me,” she said.

  “Do not put words in my mouth, querida.”

  “Because I hate myself,” she went on, ignoring his order. “If I hadn’t left the casa with Cristobel alone, she’d still be alive. We’d have a chance of making our marriage work.”

  He swore an oath that made her blush. “Then hate me as well, for if I’d have hired a competent guard, he’d have stopped you from leaving. He wouldn’t have seduced you.”

  She shook her head, sad that he believed she’d been unfaithful. There was nothing left for her here now.

  Miguel was right when he’d said their marriage ended with Cristobel’s death. She wasn’t even sure she’d find the closure she’d sought, for much of her memory was still trapped in a fog.

  “There is no going back to what we had,” she said.

  “No.”

  “So do we simply enjoy our farewell fling for a few more days?” she asked, her heart heavy at the thought of finally ending what had begun with such promise. Never mind that she’d come back for that very reason—closure.

  “No. We start over.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “ARE you out of your mind?” she asked, her voice oddly strained.

  “I want you.” He slid her a sultry glance that brought color to her pale cheeks. “And you want me.”

  She gaped, then bit her lower lip and stared out the side window. “I never said that.”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “Not in any words.”

  He ground his teeth together, knowing he’d taken the wrong tactic with her. His English rose was growing prickly again. But then she’d always become defensive when she was afraid.

  “Answer me this,” he said, not about to let this drop now that he’d made the decision. “Were you leaving me that day?”

  “No,” she said, sounding exasperated again.

  “Then it is settled,” he said.

  The decision felt right. He didn’t know how long this intense desire for her would last, but she was still his wife, and he wasn’t ready to walk away from her.

  She let out a troubled groan. “It is not settled! We have too much unsaid between us to jump back into marriage.”

  “Then we will do as I was remiss in doing throughout our marriage and talk at length,” he said, putting an end to that argument with glacial arrogance.

  She stared at him as if she was seeing him for the very first time. “You’re serious.”

  “Totally. Our families lied to us. If they hadn’t interfered, we wouldn’t have been separated the past six months.” He held her wary gaze with his. “If they’d minded their business, we would have grieved our niña’s passing together instead of apart.”

  She tore her gaze from his, clearly apprehensive about giving their marriage another chance.

  “For someone who complained we didn’t talk, you are being awfully quiet.” She looked on the verge of tears, too, but he wasn’t about to mention it.

  “I’m thinking.” And worrying her hands to death which wasn’t a good sign at all. “Staying married is a big step.”

  “It was the same step we took the first time,” he said, daring her to argue.

  “I was pregnant then. You married me out of duty.”

  He sieved air through his clenched teeth. “We are still married! I will not grant you a divorce until I am ready to bury what burns so hotly between us.”

  She cupped her hands over her face, aware that arguing with him was a waste of breath. But she couldn’t just capitulate, either, not on something this important. Not when her heart was in danger of being broken all over again.

  “I can never give you children,” she said, voicing an admission of her own.

  “I am not asking that of you.”

  She nodded, understanding what he did expect from her. Sex. They’d enjoy each other for however long it lasted, and she’d have a broken heart to heal all over again.

  She peered at him over the tips of her fingers. “Do you finally believe I was faithful to you?”

  His answer cracked like lightning. “It means I intend to make love to you so thoroughly and so deeply that you’ll forget what it was like to lie in another man’s arms.”

  He maneuvered the Jeep along the jungle track, acutely aware of each breath, each tense movement Allegra made. They used to share a congenial silence, but this one crackled with tension that played over his nerves in sharp, angry discords.

  “I won’t live with a man who distrusts me,” she said at last.

  “Sí, you will,” he said. “Do not attempt to play the injured party here for I have proof that you and Amando left the casa every day, taking a picnic basket with you on your assignation.”

  “Proof? You have nothing. That picnic basket was filled with food for the refugees,” she said, her voice rising this time with biting disgust.

  Ah, yes, her charity work for the Mayans. The thought of her aiding the natives strummed cords of fear in him, but on its heels boiled rage at the guard he’d hired for letting his wife take such a risk.

  This time he was going to get some answers. He’d not be deterred this time.

  “How the hell did you get involved in that?” he asked.

  “Through Jorge.”

  “The boy who foolishly drew you the map to Tumbenkahal?”

  “One and the same, and I’ll hold you to your promise to let him be.”

  He dipped his chin in agreement, secretly admiring that she’d secured his promise before he learned all the details. “Go on.”

  “When I was in the garden reading one day, Jorge told me about relatives of his who were trying to escape Guatemala,” she said. “I asked what could be done, and he said you’d promised to look into it some months past.”

  “That should have been the end of your involvement into my business,” he said, getting angry all over again.

  “Well, they’d managed to make it this far on into Mexico on their own, and I couldn’t turn my back on them,” she said, the passion in her voice leaving no doubt she was serious.

  “You should have come to me with your concerns,” he said.

  She glared at him. “You weren’t there.”

  He ground his teeth, for he had no argument to challenge that very real fact. He’d left Amando Riveras to keep her safe. He didn’t doubt she’d rushed to help others in need, just as she had by delivering water and supplies to Tumbenkahal.

  “Exactly how did you go about helping the refugees?” he asked.

  She smiled, but it was tinged with worry. “In the beginning I set about teaching Jorge’s sister and brother-in-law English. It was a trial because they only spoke Mayan, but once we got past the basics, they learned quickly.”

  “When and where did you conduct this school?” he asked, holding a tight rein on the pride swelling within him for his wife’s generosity.

  She shifted uneasily, and he knew before she opened her mouth that he wasn’t going to like what she said. “I followed the an old henequen trail to the far edge of the jungle.”

  “You had better say that Riveras accompanied you.”

  Her eyes wouldn’t meet his. “He did on occasion.”

  Sweat beaded on his brow. Sweat caused from fear of the danger she placed herself in!

  “I told Amando about their plight, and he said he often helped those less fortunate escape Guatemala,” she went on. “In fact, within two weeks there were close to twenty-five more refugees hiding near the hut.”

  Rage exploded in him, but a good deal was directed at himself. For he knew what Riveras was doing. He knew he’d misjudged the man badly. He’d placed his family and his own workers in danger by bringing Riveras here.

  To think that Allegra had gone off into the jungle with him…

  “�
�Maldita sea! Riveras was using Hacienda Primaro as the holding ground for his human trafficking scheme.” If the authorities had discovered a refugee camp on his land, the blot on his family name would have been devastating and caused him no end of trouble in his business dealings.

  “I realized what he was doing belatedly, too. I needed to tell you what he was doing, but you’d gone off and nobody knew where,” she said, rubbing her brow that was now puckered with worry as she remembered more and more. “He frightened me, Miguel. He frightened me so that I packed up Cristobel and left.”

  Guilt danced hand in hand with his anger. He’d phoned home two days before the accident to talk with Allegra. He’d intended to tell her to be ready to go on an extended trip, but she wasn’t home.

  According to his madre she’d gone off with Riveras again on their daily picnic that usually lasted most of the day. She’d let him draw his own conclusion.

  Hindsight was always right. He should have gone home then and confronted Riveras. He should have had faith in his marriage and his wife.

  But she’d ditched one lover for him when she’d first come to the Yucatán. And considering his own failed affair with the unfaithful Tara, he had no wish to confront his errant wife when his rage and hurt were towering.

  So he’d gone off to nurse his wounds and plan his next attack. A mistake he’d regret until his dying day.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked, staring out the window at the thickening jungle.

  He smiled though the gesture held no comfort. “Home.”

  Sunlight flickered through the breaks in the dense canopy like an old movie reel, teasing him with memories of him working endlessly on the old hacienda he’d lovingly restored. It stood on the fringe of the jungle, stood as a memorial to a marriage gone wrong.

  He’d restored it for Allegra. The grand surprise to gift his English rose on their anniversary.

  It stood unfinished, a testament now to what lay uncompleted between them. This was a fitting place to end this uncertainty eating at them both.

  It was vitally important to him that she know he hadn’t put business above her and Cristobel. That he hadn’t intentionally let her down as she’d accused him of doing. That he’d physically worked on this house like his ancestors had done for the women that had stolen their hearts.

  “Did I ever tell you that I’m equally drawn to and terrified of the jungle?” she asked, a frown pulling at her brow.

  He smiled, remembering. “Sí. The first time I brought you to Hacienda Primaro you clung to me like one of the spider monkeys frolicking in the banyan trees.”

  She blushed. “You must have thought me silly.”

  “No, for I know well the allure and danger of the jungle.”

  A comfortable silence drifted on the humid air thick with the smell of damp earth and spicy-sweet exotic flowers. Early in their relationship he’d taken her on long drives across the peninsula to show her the world of his ancestors.

  She made few remarks, seeming to prefer absorbing the exquisite wonder of nature around them, preferring to snuggle close to him and just share the same oneness nature gifted on them.

  The long drives solidified the fact that they could speak without words. A look. A smile. A touch—he knew what she wanted and when she wanted it.

  Yet he’d misjudged her in the worst way after Cristobel was born. He was an astute businessman. His instincts for guessing a rival’s moves had enabled him to amass a fortune.

  So why hadn’t he realized his wife was lonely?

  “Your blood is strong, Miguel.”

  He glanced at her, perplexed. “Meaning?”

  “I always equated you to your ancestors who came here to conquer.” She frowned down at the hands clasped tightly in her lap. “You are a modern conquistador.”

  “Is that a compliment or an insult?” he asked.

  She loosed a soft laugh that rolled in like the tide, then ebbed to draw him to her—toward danger. “A bit of both, perhaps. You couldn’t have amassed what you did if you hadn’t had the temerity and wits to achieve your goals.”

  He failed to see the negative in that observation, but he wasn’t about to argue the point and spoil this rare mood. He’d been born into this life, but he’d wanted more than to manage it. He’d wanted to make his own mark on the world.

  “Today I saw another side of you.” She tipped her head to look at him, either unaware just how charming she appeared or deliberately tempting him. “You would fit the role of a tribal leader. Or perhaps a Mayan warrior.”

  “You think this because?” he asked, bemused that she’d recognized those familiar links.

  “Your arrogance for one.”

  “I am not arrogant.”

  “You are,” she said, seeming not the least reserved to bring that to his attention. “You think that we can save our marriage.”

  “And you do not?”

  She shook her head, her eyes dimming with sadness. “Oddly enough it was your unparalleled confidence in yourself that attracted me to you.”

  “Here I thought it was my devastating good looks that turned your head.”

  “That, too,” she said, a slow smile teasing her lips that he longed to claim.

  Soon, he thought.

  Miguel leaned back in the seat, relaxing at last. He had missed this banter with her nearly as much as he’d missed her kisses, her caresses, her fathomless passion when they made love.

  He noticed the faded yellow stripes on the topes nearly too late. “Brace yourself,” he said as he slammed on the brakes, skidding on the blacktop like a turista unaware of the speed bumps.

  Allegra yelped and slammed both hands on the dashboard, staring at the windshield as if a chilling movie were playing out before her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her skin blanched too pale, her blue eyes were far too wide.

  He pulled to the dirt lot of the village abarrotería and stopped, attuned to the signs of her distress. “What do you see?”

  She frowned and shook her head, likely annoyed his voice had intruded on her memory. “The same as before. Cristobel crying right before the white Jetta rammed my car. But this time I saw the driver’s face. It was Amando Riveras.”

  “You are certain?”

  “Yes, it was him,” she said. “He followed me because he knew I intended to find you. My God! He wanted to kill me, Miguel.”

  Anguish like he’d never known engulfed him as he put the Jeep in gear and continued on. All this time he’d blamed Allegra for placing her life and Cristobel’s in danger by fleeing Hacienda Primaro on a lark. For slipping past the guard he’d hired to protect her.

  Never once had he thought the man he’d hired had intentionally caused the accident. Had Riveras feared his retribution once Allegra told him what he was illegally doing? Was he insanely jealous of Allegra and vowed if he couldn’t have her, nobody could?

  Whatever the reason, he’d better hope Miguel never found him. For he’d never let this wrong go unpunished. Never!

  He took a sharp left turn onto a paved driveway choked with greenery so dense that the fronds brushed the sides of the Jeep as he passed through. If one wasn’t looking closely, they’d miss the driveway entirely, which had been his intention of designing it thusly.

  Protection from onlookers, yet the idea of being so careful mocked him now.

  The driveway curved around a thicket of mangrove, the vegetation cut back farther and farther from the road until they emerged into a clearing artfully landscaped with tropical plants. The casa principia was smaller than many other main homes on the old haciendas, but the intimate size suited his taste better than the rambling casa he’d grown up in.

  He pulled around back and parked, mindful of Allegra’s gasp of surprise. This view always took his breath away as well, for the portico ran the length of the house, and with the setting sun bathing the stucco a warm gold, it looked like a Mayan palace fit for a king.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  He took no
pleasure in her compliment, for he’d designed this with Allegra in mind. Everything here reminded him of her—a constant torment he hadn’t cared to live with—the reason why he’d not been able to finish this as he’d dreamed of doing.

  And now? Now he was starting anew with the wife he’d wronged. The woman who expected more of him this time. A woman who deserved far more than he was willing to give her.

  “Gracias.” Miguel bounded from the Jeep to assist her and entwined his fingers with hers to anchor her close, to feel her accelerated pulse streak into him.

  “What is this place?” she asked.

  “An old hacienda that I’ve restored,” he said, because he couldn’t bring himself to admit to her that this was to be their casa. Not yet, anyway.

  “How long have you owned it?” she asked, clearly enthralled.

  “A little over two years.”

  She looked away, but he caught the hurt in her eyes that he’d kept this from her. “This is one of the haciendas you’ve restored then as a luxury rental retreat.”

  “No,” he said, watching her face closely. “This was to be a surprise for you.”

  He knew the second when understanding dawned, for her eyes widened and her inviting mouth parted. She scanned the length of the house before turning to him.

  “You bought this for us?”

  “Sí.” He lifted his gaze to the restored portico and plasterwork, painfully aware this restoration was nothing compared to the extensive work done inside the casa. “This is where I spent my free time the last months of your pregnancy. I wanted the casa ready before Cristobel was born, but a tropical storm set back my plans.”

  “You were gone so much,” she said, and he nodded in reply for there was nothing he could say or do in the face of all he’d done wrong. “You should have told me.”

  “Would that have made you happy?”

  “No.” She lifted a hand and cupped his jaw, and the jolt of her touch rocked him to his soul. “Knowing you’d done this for us is wonderful. But just being with you made me happy, Miguel. I only wanted to be more than the woman in your bed. I wanted to be the one you confided in. Why can’t you see that?”