The Alvares Bride

by Sandra Marton

  “Don’t be. Besides, that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have behaved like a fool.”

  His hands cupped her face. He tilted it up to his, his thumbs stroking across her cheekbones.

  “It is this man you mourn who is the fool, not you.”

  “Thank you. It’s kind of you to try and make me feel better, but really—”

  “Do you think I would tell you such a thing if I didn’t believe it?” He clasped her shoulders and drew her towards him. “What man would want another woman, if he could have you?”

  He bent his head and kissed her, gently at first, the merest brush of his mouth on hers. He told himself he meant this kiss as reassurance but she looked up at him, her lips parted, the pulse pounding, hard, in the hollow of her throat, and he knew he’d been lying to himself.

  He’d kissed her because he wanted her taste on his tongue.

  “Carin.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again, more deliberately, and just when he thought he’d misread what he’d seen in her eyes, she moaned and brought her body against his, opened her mouth and kissed him back.

  He could feel his heart thundering. He wanted her, wanted her as he could not recall ever wanting a woman before. Some still-logical part of his brain warned him that wanting her so desperately made no sense, that taking her when she was longing for another man could only be an error, but now she was digging her hands into his hair, bringing his head down to hers, seeking his tongue with her own.

  Rafe stopped thinking.

  He groaned and gathered her close, ran his hand down her back, lifted her into him, tilting her so that she could feel his hardness straining against her. When she moaned and moved against him, he drew back, even though it took every bit of self-control he possessed.

  “Look at me, Carin,” he said roughly. “Look at me, and see that I am not the man who lost you.”

  “I know that.” She put her hands flat against his chest. “But you are the man I want.”

  Rafe swept her into his arms, carried her to the bed. She was like flame, burning with need. She was silk under his hands, under his mouth…

  “Senhor Raphael!”

  The cry brought him back to reality. He blinked, tore his thoughts from that night and saw his houseman galloping towards him on the back of a lathered mare. His gut clenched. Joao feared horses; the men teased him mercilessly. He never rode, they said, unless disaster was imminent.

  Rafe tugged on the reins, rode to meet him. “What is it?”

  “A telephone call, senhor, from a woman who gives her name as Amanda Brewster al Rashid. She says it is urgent, that it concerns her sister…”

  “Carin,” Rafe whispered.

  He spurred his horse, bent low over the outstretched neck, and raced for the house.

  CHAPTER THREE

  RAFE. Rafe, where are you?

  Carin cried out in silence, her voice echoing only inside her head.

  This is a dream, she kept telling herself, only a dream. Open your eyes and wake up.

  She couldn’t. Her lids felt as if they’d been weighted with lead, her lashes glued to her cheeks. The more she tried, the tighter the dream held her. Still, she fought to leave it. The rational part of her mind warned her that if she were to succumb to the dark, the path she took would lead to nothingness.

  Eventually, the darkness began loosening its hold. She floated in a kind of foggy twilight. Voices penetrated the silence, urging her to open her eyes and leave the dream behind.

  Wake up, Carin.

  Come on, Ms. Brewster. Open your eyes.

  Carin, sweetie, please, please, look at me.

  She recognized the voices. Her doctor. Her sister. She heard her mother and her stepfather, too, but what were they all doing here? What? she asked herself desperately, and felt herself floating away…but the voices wouldn’t let it happen.

  “Carin,” her doctor said, “come on, Carin. It’s time to wake up.”

  “Oh, darling,” Marta said, “look at us, please. Can you do that, Carin?”

  “Carrie,” Amanda said firmly, “stop this nonsense and open your eyes right now.”

  She almost smiled, then. Nobody had called her “Carrie” in years and years.

  And then a hand took hers. Warm, strong fingers pressed into her own, entwined with hers.

  “Carin,” a voice whispered, close to her ear. “Do you hear me? You must open your eyes now and look at me.”

  Rafe? Was he here, holding her hand, sitting beside her and offering her comfort as he had done once before? Of course not. She had been dreaming of him again, just as she had during the past months, and wasn’t that dumb because he’d made it clear he never wanted to see her again.

  Not that she wanted to see him. What they’d done—what she’d done—was wrong. Ugly. Shameful. Never mind the excitement of it, the heat of his hands, the ecstasy of feeling him deep inside her…

  “Rafe,” Carin whispered, “Rafe?” and she came awake in a dizzying rush to find herself, alone, in a world of cold reality and confused memories.

  That night. Oh, God, that terrible night. Making love with Rafe—except, it hadn’t been love. It had been sex, sex with a stranger. He’d give her what she’d wanted, passion that had driven everything else from her mind, but when it was over she’d been filled with such self-loathing that she’d struggled free of his arms, gone into the bathroom, locked the door and leaned back against it, trembling, afraid he’d come after her…

  Praying that he would.

  She needn’t have worried.

  No one had knocked at the bathroom door. No one rattled the knob. No one said, “Carin, come back to my arms.” When she’d finally come out of the bathroom, Rafe was gone. He wasn’t downstairs, either. There’d been no message. No note. No phone call waiting on her answering machine in New York or in all the months that came after.

  One hour. One unbelievable, wondrous, terrible hour, was all it had been…

  Except, that wasn’t true. Carin’s heartbeat lurched. Raphael Alvares had given her more than that night.

  He’d given her a child.

  The long hours of labor. Amanda, holding her hand. The doctor’s decision to hasten her baby’s entry into the world…

  “My baby,” she said, the words a tremulous, desperate whisper.

  She touched her hand to her belly. It was flat. Her baby had been born—her daughter, she’d known that in advance—but where was she? Something had gone wrong, at the end. She remembered, now. Her doctor, telling her to hang on. The slap-slap of a nurse’s shoes as she hurried from the room. The plastic packet of blood hanging above her, dripping into her vein…

  Carin shot up against the pillows. Her head spun, her stomach seesawed in protest.

  “Where’s my baby?”

  “Carin?”

  She turned her head, saw bright light streaming into the room as the door opened. Shapes—people—were silhouetted against it.

  “Carin,” her mother said, “oh, sweetie!”

  And then Marta’s arms were around her. Carin wept and clung to her as the others crowded around. Jonas was there, and Amanda, even her stepbrother, Slade, and his wife, Lara…

  But not Rafe. Of course not. He’d only been a dream.

  Hands patted her shoulders, touched her hair. Her mother’s light scent enveloped her; she felt her sister’s tears as their cheeks brushed.

  “That’s my girl,” Marta said, and made a sound that straddled the line between laughter and tears. “Oh, darling, it’s so good to see you awake. How do you feel? Are you in pain? Lara, please, would you go get the nurse?”

  “Of course,” Lara Baron said, and blew a kiss before hurrying off.

  “Tell me about my baby,” Carin begged. “Mandy? Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine.” Amanda sat down on the edge of the bed and clasped her hand. “And she’s beautiful.”

  Carin fell back against the pillows. Tears rose in her eyes and she laughed and rubbed them away with
her knuckles.

  “I want to know everything. Is she big? What color is her hair? What does she weigh?”

  “She’s seven pounds, five ounces and twenty-one inches long, and she has a head full of midnight-black curls. Oh, Sis, she’s perfect.”

  Carin squeezed her sister’s hand. “I want to see her.”

  “And you will, darling.” Marta embraced Carin again. “In just a little while, I promise. Let’s have the doctor take a look at you first, hmm?”

  “I don’t need the doctor.”

  “You’re probably right, but it won’t hurt to let him see you, will it?” Marta pulled a lace-trimmed hankie from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. “He said—he said he was sure the crisis was over and you’d be fine, but we were all—we were…”

  Her voice broke. Jonas put his hand on his wife’s shoulder, patted it clumsily and smiled at Carin.

  “You sure did give us a bad time for a while there, missy.”

  “Did I?” She shook her head. “I don’t—I don’t remember very much.”

  “No. I don’t suppose you would. Never mind. All that matters is that everything’s fine, now.”

  “Where is my baby? Is she in the nursery?”

  “Uh-huh.” Amanda grinned. “And she’s making all the other little girls look homely by comparison.”

  “Amanda’s right.” Marta smiled as she stroked Carin’s hair back from her temples. “She looks just like you, darling. Well, except for her mouth. I suppose she has her father’s…” Everyone looked at Marta, who colored. “I mean, she’s gorgeous.”

  Carin sighed. “I’ll bet she is.” She looked past her mother, at Slade, and smiled. “What are you doing here?”

  “Well, Lara and I had nothin’ better to do…” He grinned. “Boston’s only a hop, skip, and jump away, honey. We figured we’d come down and wait for you to open your eyes.”

  “That was sweet of you.”

  “Heck, the Barons are nothin’ if not sweet.” He walked to the other side of the bed and took her hand. “Travis, Tyler and Gage all send their love.”

  “Give mine to them, please, when you talk to them.”

  “And,” Amanda said, “my Nicholas will be by, in a little while.” Tears rose in her eyes and she brushed them away. “You gave us a real scare, Sis.”

  “Well, I didn’t mean to,” Carin said, and smiled. She let her head fall back against the pillows and her smile faded. “I’m sorry I put you through all of this.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Marta said. “I just wish you’d come to stay with us at Espada, months ago…” She cleared her throat. “Well, that’s all water under the bridge. The important thing is that you’ve come through this, and that you have a healthy baby.”

  Carin nodded. “I just wish…” She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. “I wish it could have been different. That—that I hadn’t disappointed all of you.”

  “Nonsense, darling. Who could be disappointed at having a new little person in our family?”

  “I told her the same thing, Mother.” Amanda looked up as Lara came into the room. “Doctor’s coming,” she mouthed, and Amanda nodded. “I said we’d all be in this with her, that she didn’t have to face it by herself.”

  “Damn right,” Slade growled. “Whatever happened to the idea of Responsibility, with a capital R?” Lara shot him a warning look and he frowned. “Well, hell, it’s the truth, Sugar, isn’t it? If Carin had told us, right off, one of us Barons—hell, all of us—would have gone down there to Brazil and—”

  “Brazil?” Carin struggled up against the pillows. “What do you mean, you’d have gone to Brazil?” Her eyes flashed to her sister. “I never told you about—about anything.”

  Amanda cleared her throat. “Uh, no. No, you didn’t. Not—not at first.”

  “Not at first? Not ever. You asked and asked and asked, but I never said—”

  “Actually, you did.” Amanda hesitated. “Look, why don’t we discuss this another time? When you’re feeling stronger.”

  “I feel strong enough now. What do you mean, ‘actually’ I did?”

  “You were groggy, Sis. And you—you called for him. For Raphael Alvares.”

  Carin turned pale. “And you told everyone else? Oh, Mandy, why? Why did you do that?”

  “I didn’t tell anyone. Well, only Nick, but—”

  “Then, how does Slade know?”

  “He just—he just knows,” Amanda said, and shot Slade a look.

  “He knows, because you told him. And what for? I certainly don’t want any of you hustling off to Brazil to tell Rafe that he—he fathered my child.”

  “Well,” Jonas said, “fact is, nobody has to do that, ’cause—”

  “The fact is that no one will,” Marta said. Jonas snorted, and she cleared her throat. “Go to Brazil, I mean.”

  “I hope not. Raphael Alvares is the last man I want to see.”

  “Sweetie,” Marta said gently, “you don’t mean that.”

  “I mean every word.”

  “Maybe now’s not the best time to make decisions,” Jonas said. “You might want to think about things. And your baby’s got a stake in this, missy.” He ran a finger around the inside of his shirt collar. “Maybe I learned it a little late but a kid’s got the right to grow up knowin’ who his…who her father is.”

  “Look,” Carin said wearily, “I know you all mean well, that you want to protect me and my daughter, but you have to understand, I did the right thing. Things were different for you and Tyler, Jonas—”

  “Things are always different,” Slade said gruffly. “But a man’s entitled to know he’s a father, and to tell you how he feels about it. A woman denies him that right, he might do anything to claim his—”

  “Slade, for heaven’s sakes!” Marta glared at her stepson. “Must we discuss this now?”

  “You’re right.” He took a deep breath. “Carin, honey, I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay. I know you’re worried about me but trust me, this is—it’s different than it was for you, Jonas, or for you, Slade…”

  “Yeah, sure.” Slade hesitated, then bent down and pressed his lips to Carin’s forehead. “Just keep something in mind,” he said softly. “Men aren’t always the enemy, kid.”

  “I know.” She smiled, took his hand and brought it to her cheek. “I can think of a few who might even qualify as good guys.”

  But not Raphael Alvares. She couldn’t imagine anyone thinking of him as a good guy. Still, he was the kind of man Slade had described, one who’d do whatever it took to get what he wanted. As little as she knew about Rafe, she was certain he’d move heaven and earth to claim a thing, if he wanted it badly enough.

  He hadn’t wanted her.

  She made a soft sound of distress. Marta grabbed her hand.

  “Carin? Darling, what is it?”

  “Nothing. Really, I’m fine.” She smiled and pressed her mother’s hand in reassurance. “I’m—I’m a little achy, that’s all.”

  “Well, of course you are. Achy, and all worn out, and here we are, giving you lectures when we should be letting you rest.” Marta kissed her, then turned towards the others. “I have an idea,” she said briskly. “Slade, you go find us some coffee. Jonas, you wait in the lounge. Lara, you and I will go hunt down that doctor…”

  Carin grabbed for Amanda’s hand as the Barons filed from the room. “Mandy?”

  Amanda leaned towards her. “Mmm?”

  “I want you to promise me you won’t do anything.”

  “Anything about what?”

  “You know what. I don’t want you getting the same silly idea everybody else seems to have about getting in touch with—with Rafe.”

  Amanda colored. “Well—well, actually, Sis, when you kept calling his name, I thought—I mean, you seemed to want…”

  “Not him,” Carin said fiercely. “Never him!”

  “Well—well don’t worry about any of that now, okay? Just concentrate
on getting better.” Amanda’s voice softened. “And think about that little girl of yours, about how you’ll want to do all the right things for her.”

  “Oh, I will.” Carin sighed. “I can’t wait to see her.”

  “Look, why don’t I see if I can get the nurse to bring the baby to you right now?”

  “Would you?”

  “Sure.” Amanda put her arms around Carin and hugged her. “Meanwhile, just shut your eyes and rest, okay, Sis?”

  “Okay,” Carin said, and yawned.

  The door swung softly closed. Carin yawned again, closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift. Her baby. Her very own little girl. She could hardly wait to see her. Would she look like her father?

  Rafe was so handsome. Those deep, dark eyes. That dark, silky hair. The firm mouth, that had felt so wonderful against hers…

  He’d been such an incredible lover.

  Strong. Powerful. His body hard and hot as he’d moved above her. His hands, all-knowing and clever, touching her in ways Frank had never touched her, until she’d cried out, arched against him, and then he’d slipped his hands beneath her, lifted her to him, entered her slowly, slowly, buried himself inside her.

  She’d come even as he entered her, come again and again, and that had never happened to her before. She’d never flown so fast, so high, never wanted the night to last forever, the arms that held her to hold her forever…

  Her eyes flew open. What was she thinking?

  She’d just given birth. Sex was the last thing she ought to have on her mind and besides, why did she keep romanticizing what had happened? Rafe hadn’t even tried to pretend that taking her to bed had meant something; he’d walked away from her as if she were the cheap slut she’d made herself out to be.

  Her throat constricted.

  What did any of that matter now? She was tired, that was all. Overwrought, by what she’d just gone through. Rafe didn’t mean a thing to her; he never had. What she’d wanted from him was what he’d given her, oblivion in his arms, and if memories of that night still haunted her, it only proved how truly pathetic she was.

  “Carin?”

  Carin opened her eyes. The room was empty, except for her doctor, who stood beside the bed.