His comings and going were noted as well, confirming Miguel had had him watched closely. Recently, too, judging by the dates.
The scuff of a shoe brought her gaze snapping up to his. The strong line of his jaw looked harder than granite, and his eyes were just as dark and emotionless.
“You liar!” She bolted to her feet, so angry she shook. “You promised you wouldn’t ruin my uncle.”
“I haven’t.”
“But you plan to,” she said, sick inside that he’d promise her one thing yet do another.
He strode toward her in no particular hurry. “That is insurance, querida. I won’t use it unless I must.”
“And of course I am to blindly believe you,” she said.
“Sí, for it is the truth.”
Truth and lies. There were so many between them.
“Is there a reason, besides eavesdropping, that you are reading my e-mail?” he asked as he rounded the desk.
She skittered backward to put distance between them. “I came here to tell you I’d remembered Riveras’s involvement with the refugees. When you weren’t here, I thought to leave you a note.”
He lifted one brow and reached over to click off the screen. “Please, go on.”
“It was when I overheard Riveras demanding money from them, that I knew I had to get away from him.”
“Was he aware that you knew of his operation?” he asked.
“Yes. I was afraid,” she said, and felt a chill tiptoe over her as the memory cleared. “I had to get away, but I hadn’t a clue of your whereabouts, so I went straightway to your mother.”
He shrugged, but his fisted hands belied his rage. “She didn’t know.”
“Señora Barrosa was her usual caustic self and refused to tell me where you’d gone until I told her I was leaving.” She made a face at that unpleasant memory, for their argument was insulting and mean. “She told me you were in Cancún on business.”
“¡Dios mio! I was out of the country.”
“I didn’t know that then. I wanted to find you because I was afraid to stay here with Riveras,” she said. “So I packed what I needed, bundled Cristobel up and prepared to leave before he could return and stop me.”
“My madre told me much the same story, though she didn’t admit she’d told you I was in Cancún,” he said, then scowled. “She added that she saw you taking the jewelry from the safe.”
“That’s a lie! I didn’t take it.”
“And yet it disappeared when you did.”
Her gaze fixed on his unreadable one. “You think I stole them.”
“It was a reasonable assumption.”
That hurt. “You wouldn’t say that if you truly knew me,” she said, and had the satisfaction of seeing a ruddy tinge darken the sculpted curve of his cheekbones.
“But that is the point,” he said. “We know each other in bed, but not so much out of it.”
It was a truth she couldn’t deny. They’d made love every chance they got, and they’d made a baby. Yet they had been isolated from on another in marriage.
“Where were you?” she asked, not sure if he’d even answer her.
He scrubbed a hand over his nape. “Guatemala. I went on a mercy mission in the jungle.”
She gripped the back of the nearest chair and leaned into it. “You could have been killed.”
“Sí, but I wasn’t,” he said. “But that’s why I had no idea what had happened until I returned home nearly three weeks after the accident.”
Allegra rubbed her forehead as reality rose like a Mayan temple above the sultry mists of the rain forest. Miguel hadn’t been off in Cancún on business or pleasure.
He’d been deep in the Guatemalan jungle helping the displaced Mayans. That singular humanitarian effort he kept hidden from the world endeared him more to her, for it showed a depth of spirit and compassion he kept hidden.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your mission work among the Mayan?” she asked.
He shrugged, his shoulders stiff, his back an unyielding straight line. “It is not my habit to divulge my plans to anyone, especially when secrecy of a mission is paramount.”
“I wasn’t anyone, Miguel. I am your wife,” she said.
“What difference would it have made if you’d known?” he asked, the cynical curl to his lip firmly in place, his dark eyes shuttered as well.
“I wouldn’t have gone to the beach house,” she said.
For she was sure Amando Riveras would have caught her there and silenced her for good.
Miguel paced the room, swore and barely—barely—quelled the urge to drive his fist into something. It was far preferable to strangling his wife for the propensity to walk headlong into danger.
His chest heaved with the anger building in him now, for he’d charged a man to do the job she took on without hesitation, a task she completed alone and expertly. Just thinking of the danger she placed herself in terrified him.
He hated feeling that emotion for one second!
“You are reckless to a fault,” he said.
“I am not.”
“Sí, you are,” he said. “You risked your life by getting involved with the refugees. You left here twice without thought to the danger you were in.”
She jammed her hands at her sides and glared at him. “I had good reasons.”
He snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “That is a matter of opinion. And since it is my opinion that decided the rules here,” he said, “you will not leave here alone again.”
“I will not live in a prison.” With that, she whirled and stomped from his office.
Tears of anger stung the backs of her eyes, but she blinked them away. She’d come for closure. Well, this was as close as it would get.
She paused at the altar, taking a last longing look at her daughter. The small stuffed bear she’d bought for Cristobel called out to her.
Without hesitating, she gathered it close just as Miguel stormed up to her. “What are you doing?”
“Taking the bear I bought for my daughter,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because I want it,” she said. “I’ve decided to build an altar for her in my home.”
He plucked the porcelain doll off the altar and handed it to her. “Then take this, too.”
She shook her head and backed away. “The doll isn’t mine.”
“Take it anyway,” he said, challenge blazing in his eyes. “Cristobel would’ve liked it.”
She wasn’t sure what surprised her most. That he was not balking about her taking the bear, or that he believed their daughter would have liked the doll.
“The bear is enough.”
“Take it.” He made to stuff the doll under her arm.
She jerked back at the same time. The doll dropped to the terra cotta tiles and shattered, the sound loud.
“Now look what you’ve done!” She glanced from the broken doll and its too blue glass eye to Miguel.
“What I have—”
He broke off, his dark gaze riveted on the heap of shattered porcelain. He squatted beside it and picked up the glistening eye.
“¡Maldita sea! This is a blue topaz.” Before what he said registered, he’d upended what remained of the doll and shook it.
Glittering jewels poured onto the floor in a rainbow spray of color.
She blinked, unable to believe her eyes. “Is that the jewelry I was accused of stealing?”
“Sí.” His fury was so great he could barely hold a coherent thought. His madre had done this.
There could be no other explanation.
There could be no greater deceit.
She’d hidden the jewelry in the doll, and let him believe Allegra had stolen them. She’d let his hatred fester for his wife. How many other lies had she spewed to cause him grief?
No wonder she was unnerved when he brought Allegra back to the casa.
“Why does she hate me so much?” Allegra asked as she squatted beside him.
He g
athered up the jewelry, still baffled by the workings of his madre’s mind. “Because she is a bitter woman.”
“What are you going to do?”
What he should have done when he brought his bride home the first time. “I will deal with madre in due time.”
“I’m sorry she’s done this to us.”
So was he, for this cruel act was beyond forgiveness.
“Where are you going?” he asked when he realized she was walking away.
“To the cemetery to visit my daughter’s grave.”
He shot to his feet, the missing jewelry clenched in his fists. “I forbid you to go out alone again.”
That brought her up short. She faced him, her eyes glittering with an array of emotions that scared the hell out of him. “You’ve no right to order me about!”
¡Dios mio! He drove his fingers through his hair, frustrated and angry with himself and the world. He couldn’t repeat history with her again. He had to make her see reason.
“You don’t know what the kidnappers can do,” he said, drawing on memories he’d shoved to the far recesses of his mind. “It is a common joke that kidnapping is a career in Mexico, but though many people are returned harmless, there are those that delight in torturing their victims first.”
The color drained from her face. “I’m sure you’re right, but I’m not in the habit of having someone shadow my steps.”
“You will have to get used to it.”
She bristled, and he knew he’d gone about this all wrong. “Perhaps I will,” she said at last. “If I stay.”
“You will.”
“Are you always this sure of yourself?” she asked, a mocking tone tingeing her voice.
“Sí, especially in this.”
She must have picked up on his anxiety for she slid him a sideways look. “What aren’t you telling me, Miguel?”
He tipped his head back and huffed out an annoyed breath, loath to share his darkest hour with anyone.
“Of course, what am I thinking?” Her voice crackled with mockery. “You don’t share anything of yourself with me. Forget I asked. Hold your secrets close to your heart and maybe they will keep you warm—”
“When I was eight,” he smoothly interrupted her. “I defied my madre’s order and took my little brother into the village. It was market day and I knew there would be an array of delights for hungry boys.”
“Did you stuff yourselves on sweets?” she asked.
“No. We never made it.” He dropped the jewelry on his daughter’s altar and crossed to the window, staring out at the hacienda that teemed with more bad memories than good ones. “Two men abducted us just beyond the henequen factory and took us to a remote hut in the jungle. I fought them tooth and nail and escaped, but Diego couldn’t break free.”
“How awful for you both!” she said and moved close to press a hand to his chest where his heart raced. “They demanded a ransom?”
“Ten thousand dollars a piece.” He hated the chill of terror coursing through him that he’d never been able to escape. “My padre followed the instructions and gave the money to a servant to deliver. But the money was too great a temptation. He took it and ran. By the time my padre realized what he’d done, it was too late.”
“What happened, Miguel?”
“The kidnappers hanged my brother in a palapa and left him to strangle to death,” he said, clenching his jaw as the old pain sliced through him again. “Padre found Diego the next day.”
Her arms stole around his waist and held on tight while her head found a natural perch against his chest. “Tell me they caught those men.”
He rested his chin on the top of her head, breathing in her sweet scent, holding her close to him. “No. They got away, and my madre never forgave me for leading my brother into danger.”
She sucked in a sharp breath that sizzled with disapproval. “But you were just a child.”
He pinched his eyes shut, loath to tell her the rest now, for it made no difference. “I had been repeatedly told of the danger of going off alone.” He turned her around so he could look into her eyes that were too big and glistening with unshed tears. “I chose to defy common sense, querida. I won’t let you do the same because I sure as hell can’t go through losing you now that I’ve found you again.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ALLEGRA stared into his dark, troubled eyes, her heart breaking over the tragedy he’d endured as a child. No wonder he was so adamant over her taking a guard along if she left the casa.
She’d never dreamed danger lurked so close. Even though he’d warned her to use extreme caution, she’d defied him—not once but for an entire month.
Her solo sojourns came off without a hitch. But the one time she took her daughter away, tragedy struck.
“You should hate me for what I’ve done,” she said, despising herself for being such a fool.
He cupped her face and sent her a depreciating smile that brought a lump of emotion to her throat. “I did hate you, but I hated myself more because I left you in someone else’s care instead of being here for you.”
“Riveras,” she said, and he grumbled in agreement. “There are still parts I can’t remember.”
“It will come in due time.” He skimmed his fingertips over her cheek, the touch so lightly erotic she shivered. “To hell with bad timing and heavy hearts. I want you, querida.”
“Sex doesn’t fix everything.” Even great sex with the person you loved beyond life.
He jammed his hands in his pockets, and for a heartbeat, she saw the little boy who’d hid his feelings from the world out of duty instead of the extraordinary man who’d marched into her staid world and swept her off her feet. She caught a rare glimpse of the curious child who’d gone on a grand adventure with his little brother and ended up tormented by a cruel tragedy.
“So you’re not willing to try?” he asked, his neutral tone the cue that the subject of his brother’s kidnapping was closed.
He’d shun empathy on the grounds he didn’t deserve any.
He’d ignore any remorse sent his way, for he’d already heaped more on himself than any man should bear.
No, she’d have to couch compassion with passion, for that was the only time he lost any control. Even then she always sensed he held a part of back.
“You know I am,” she said.
His sensuous mouth curved in a wry smile that was so masculinely provocative she caught herself smiling back at him. How could she think of anything else now as she stared into his dark, haunted eyes and saw the lonely soul reaching out to her?
“But I won’t be just the woman in your bed,” she said, her memory of those early days oddly sharper than her recent memory. “I’m serious about having an active role in the school.”
She swept her palms over his chest and shivered as her skin tingled with awareness of him as her lover. In turn, her body slowly bloomed at the promise glowing in his eyes.
“That is business.” His gaze caressed her with a lover’s finesse. “This is pleasure.”
“Yes,” she whispered, caving in to the sensual stroke of his hands.
If she’d asserted herself before, maybe they wouldn’t have drifted apart and this living nightmare wouldn’t have happened. Maybe they’d still be a family—Miguel, her and Cristobel.
Maybe they’d have another baby.
That would never happen now. She had nothing to lose but her pride and the chance to love this man with abandon again. She was willing to cast caution aside and stay with him for as long as it lasted this time.
But she’d not take a backseat and be nothing more than his convenient wife. She had to do something useful with her life or she’d not be able to remain here with him.
She shifted, brushing her breasts against the hard wall of his chest in erotic invitation. The contact sent a sensitized charge rocketing through her body to jolt her heart as if fusing them together.
Body tingling with need, she brushed against him again, straddling one th
ickly muscled leg and pressing against his impressive erection.
It was a blatant taunt for him to take her now. Toss her on the bed, the floor or press her against the wall. Strip her of her constricting clothes and indecisions.
But he merely groaned and stared at her with eyes smoldering with raw passion.
He was making her work for satisfaction. He was giving her time to think this through and change her mind if she wished.
She couldn’t draw another breath unless she was in his arms—unless he was inside her, deep and throbbing and filling the empty ache within her.
“We’ve made far too many mistakes,” she said.
“Sí, I know.” He brushed the full, sensual curve of his lips over hers and the muscles surrounding her sex contracted with a need so intense it took her breath away.
“But I don’t regret one moment spent in your arms, Miguel.”
“Carina.” His mouth captured hers, the kiss deep and drugging, his tongue probing the wet cay of her mouth in a rhythm that made her sex throb and weep for his possession.
“You crave great sex,” he said as his mouth left hers to nip along her collarbone.
She craved much more than that. She yearned for his heart. But when he held her, kissed her, caressed her, she ignored the yearnings of her heart to satisfy her libido.
Even now knowing that her nerves hummed with erotic energy, the vibration tightening her nipples before settling between her legs in one long, quivering pulsation. No man had ever affected her so powerfully and masterfully with just a kiss. And when his fingers did slip between her legs and touch her—
She groaned, the sound long and throaty. “Yes, mind-blowing sex with you.”
His deep laugh vibrated over her sensitive flesh and sucked her further into the whirlpool of desire. For one wild moment she thought of stopping this madness, then his mouth captured hers in a commanding kiss and the impulse popped like a soap bubble.
He swept her into his arms and headed straight to the bedroom, the thick muscles of his arms and chest tight and clenched and burning hot. That he could carry her was a testimony to his raw strength, for she was sure her legs wouldn’t support her.
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