Fear immediately clutched her heart and it was with a hand that had turned to ice that she answered it.
‘What’s happened?’ she whispered.
‘Becks...’ A large intake of breath. ‘I’m really sorry to call like this but I thought you’d want to know. There’s been an accident. It’s Emiliano... He’s had a bad fall on Don Giovanni. They crashed into...’
‘How bad?’ she interrupted.
‘He’s been rushed to hospital. He’s not conscious. They think there’s bleeding in his brain.’ Her voice dropped. ‘Becks...it’s really bad.’
By the time Becky landed in Buenos Aires, thirty-six hours had passed since Louise’s call. Her mum had already been on her feet, putting her handbag over her shoulder, when the call had finished.
‘Where do you need to go?’ she’d asked.
‘Argentina.’
‘Get your passport.’
Four minutes after the call to Louise ended, her mum’s car was screeching out of the parking space and pelting to the airport. Once there, she’d taken full charge. She’d bought Becky the first available ticket to Buenos Aires then, because the flight was twelve hours away, checked them into an airport hotel. For hours they’d lain on a lumpy bed watching rubbish on the television. In all that time Becky had hardly spoken. She was simply too numb to form a sentence, too numb to think coherently and too terrified to close her eyes to sleep. The hand not clutching her phone for news that didn’t come had kept a tight grip on her mother’s.
The long night had passed with agonising slowness. The wait to board the plane had been excruciatingly slow. The flight itself was purgatory. She couldn’t even check her phone for news of his condition.
And then the plane landed and adrenaline kicked in. First to disembark, she was first at passport control too. With no luggage to collect, she ran straight to the exit, eyes glued to her phone as she waited for the messages she knew would have been sent from Louise and Paula during the long flight to ping through...
But disaster struck. Her phone died in her hand. She’d run out of battery and in the panic to get out of her flat and get to him she’d forgotten to bring a charger.
Stuffing her fist into her mouth, she screamed. She screamed for so long that when she finally pulled her hand out the sections of her fingers beneath the knuckles were bleeding from where her teeth had cut into them.
Not caring about the pain, she jumped into a cab and asked for the hospital. But she couldn’t tell the driver which one. She didn’t know! She knew the polo competition had been held in Buenos Aires itself so it had to be in the city. In desperation, she cried, ‘Emiliano Delgado!’
To her horror, the driver immediately made the sign of the cross and put the car into gear.
Her brain turned to ice. Every part of her body began to shake.
She was still shaking when they arrived at the hospital, and when she saw the crowds of press outside her fear turned to terror.
Somehow she managed to fight her way through them but her battle was just beginning because no one—no one—would help her or tell her anything about his condition. They wouldn’t even confirm if he was there!
But she knew he was. Why else would the press be camped outside? Emiliano had something akin to rock star status in Argentina.
Resolve filled her and she determined to find him herself. She didn’t have to search long. At the far end of a long, wide corridor on the hospital’s ground floor stood two security guards in front of a double door.
She ran to them. ‘Emiliano Delgado?’
In unison, they folded their arms across their meaty chests and snapped at her in Spanish.
‘English,’ she beseeched, pointing at herself.
The taller one leaned down to speak in her face. ‘Go ’way.’
‘Please,’ she cried. ‘Just tell me if he’s here and if he’s alive. Please.’
‘Go ’way.’
‘No!’ Too distraught to be intimidated, she shook her head vigorously. ‘I no go.’
The smaller one scowled and spoke into a walkie-talkie. He’d hardly finished speaking when another security guard appeared and strode straight to her.
‘You have to leave, miss.’
Turning her back to the door, she clasped her hands together and placed them to her chest. ‘Just tell me how he is,’ she begged.
Although he kept his tone pleasant, there was an edge of exasperation to it. ‘I am not allowed to say. We have our orders.’
‘Please?’
‘You must leave or we will have to make you leave.’
Finally reaching the end of her tether, she clenched her hands into fists and shouted, ‘I’m not going anywhere until someone tells me how he is!’
‘Miss...’
‘Just tell me if he’s alive! You can do that! Please!’
‘I cannot, just as I could not tell any of the others. Now...’
‘Damn you, I’m not one of his groupies! I’m having his baby! Now, either you tell me if the man I love is alive or I’m going to...’
‘Becky?’
Spinning round, she came to a stumbling stop. The double doors had opened and between them, sitting in a wheelchair in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, was Emiliano.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EMILIANO BLINKED A number of times to make sure his concussion hadn’t caused him to hallucinate.
But no. It really was Becky making all that racket outside his private hospital suite. It really was Becky who’d just shouted in the face of a man twice her size. It really was Becky who’d just screamed that she loved him...
Her eyes locked onto his and widened into orbs. Her trembling hands flew to her mouth and then reached out as she moved like a ghost towards him.
Silent tears streaming down her face, she tentatively placed her shaking fingers to his cheeks.
A burn stabbed the back of his eyes and he swallowed hard to ease his constricted throat.
While she explored his face with her shell-shocked eyes and gentle touch, Emiliano soaked her in too. His heart clenched and released over and over as he took in the exhaustion on her beautiful face, her crumpled clothing and hair that looked as if it had never seen a brush.
‘Is it you?’ He raised a hand to touch her face, still unsure whether she really was there or if he was hallucinating. Had he fallen back into one of the dreams that had plagued him in recent weeks, ready to turn into a nightmare any moment when he awoke?
Tremulous plump lips tugged at the sides as she gave a jerky nod but then her face crumpled beneath his touch and the tears turned into sobs that sounded as if they were wrenched from her very soul.
The emotion in his heart exploded. Hooking an arm around her waist, he pulled her onto his lap and held her tightly, burying his face in her hair and praying as hard as he’d ever prayed before that this was real.
Tears soaking his T-shirt, she curled up into him and held him as tightly as he held her.
‘It’s okay,’ he whispered into her hair. ‘It’s okay, bomboncita. I’m here.’
Slowly she disentangled her arms and adjusted her weight so she could cup his face and stare deep into his eyes.
He smoothed a lock of her hair and stared back in wonder. ‘I can’t believe you’re here. How did you know?’
‘Louise called. I got here as fast as I could.’ Her voice broke. ‘I’ve been so scared. I thought...’ Her breaths shortened, chest hitching under the weight.
‘Thought what?’ he asked gently.
‘That you were...’ Becky squeezed her eyes shut, afraid to even whisper what her deepest fear had been.
‘That I was dead?’
Every cell in her body spasmed in agony to hear it vocalised.
‘Becky, look at me,’ he commanded quietly. His warm hands caressed her face in tender motions.
&nb
sp; She gulped some air in and forced her eyes to open but before he could say what was on his mind, a doctor appeared. She stared at them with incredulity then spoke rapidly, clearly telling them off.
Suddenly, Becky realised she was curled up on Emiliano’s lap. While she’d been overwhelmed with relief that he was alive and conscious, it had totally bypassed her that he must be seriously injured to be in a wheelchair. Horrified, she tried to stand but his hold around her tightened.
‘You’re not going anywhere,’ he murmured into her ear before addressing the doctor in their native language.
The doctor’s lips tightened but she nodded and indicated to one of the security guards who’d been watching the whole thing in stunned amazement. The guard pushed the wheelchair back through the doors and wheeled them to Emiliano’s private bedroom.
Alone, they stared at each other again, faces so close the tips of their noses brushed.
‘How badly hurt are you?’ she whispered.
‘Kiss me and I’ll tell you.’
‘Emiliano...’
‘You cannot fly across the world to my deathbed without kissing me.’
She shuddered.
‘I’m not dying. Not even close.’ He gathered her hair together in a fist and tilted his head. ‘Now kiss me.’
Heart hammering, she inched her face closer, closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his.
Neither of them moved. Lips joined, they breathed each other in. The scent of Emiliano’s skin and feel of his firm, sensual mouth against hers gradually seeped into her senses, creeping through her veins and slowly filled her with such joy and such relief that she cracked, and suddenly they were kissing with the desperation of two drowning sailors who’d found a last pocket of air.
She knew the dazed look in Emiliano’s eyes when they finally came up for air was mirrored in hers.
Hands sweeping through her hair, he smiled and pressed his lips to hers again. ‘Help me onto the bed?’
Smiling back, she wriggled off his lap and held a hand out to him.
His movements were heavy and awkward as he heaved himself from the wheelchair and twisted to rest his bottom on the bed.
When he was finally sitting on it with his legs stretched out, he patted the space beside him. Already missing the feel of being pressed so tightly against him, she climbed up and cuddled into him.
‘Why do you need the wheelchair?’ she asked softly as their fingers laced together.
‘Bruised spine.’ He grunted a laugh. ‘Bruised everything.’
‘Louise said you had a bleed on your brain.’
‘Suspected bleed,’ he corrected. ‘I was given full body scans. Nothing broken. Just a nasty concussion and bruising.’
‘How’s Don Giovanni? Was he hurt?’ She knew he’d be more concerned about his horse than anything else.
‘Not a scratch on him.’
‘Good... What happened?’
‘I don’t remember. I was knocked unconscious. The first I knew I’d been in an accident was when I woke up in this bed.’
She shuddered again.
‘But I know what caused it.’
She tilted her face to his. ‘Oh?’
‘And I know it will never happen again.’
‘How?’
‘I’m retiring. As of now. I’ll find a player to replace me and I’ll still finance the team but I won’t play any more.’
‘But why? You love playing.’
‘Not as much as I love you and our baby. It’s you I need to be with and that’s what I’m going to do... If you’ll have me and let me share your life.’ His eyes shone with an emotion that burned. ‘Since you’ve been gone my concentration has been shot. I’ve lost my focus and, as my accident proved, polo is too dangerous a game to play without one hundred per cent focus, not just for me but for the other players and my horses. If Don Giovanni had been hurt I would never have forgiven myself.’
She didn’t hear anything after his first few words. Raising herself, she gazed down at his face, almost afraid to hope. ‘You love me?’
He palmed her neck and expelled a deep breath. ‘I’ve loved you since the day I met you, and if these last weeks have proven anything it’s that I can’t live without you. I can’t. The morning of my accident I made a vow to myself that I would fly to you and beg for another chance. If not for the accident, I would have come to you. There has been no one else for me since the day I met you and there never will be. I need to be with you. Nothing else matters. Only you, and if I have to spend the rest of my life gaining your trust then I’ll take that, so long as you love me...and you do love me...don’t you?’
His sudden vulnerability made her heart full to bursting. ‘More than anything. You’re my whole world.’
‘I know you don’t want to marry me, but will you...’
‘I do want to marry you,’ she interrupted gently, placing a finger to his lips. ‘I’m yours, body and soul.’
He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. When his eyes opened again, they were filled with such wonder it made the emotion in her bursting heart spill over.
‘I cannot tell you how badly I have wished for this,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I swear I will never give you reason to doubt me. I will do everything in my power to be a good husband to you and a good father to our baby.’
‘I know you will,’ she said, replacing her finger with her lips. ‘And Emiliano, I’ve never doubted you. It’s myself I doubted. I didn’t trust that your feelings for me could sustain a lifetime because I’m an insecure fool.’
‘But I didn’t help.’ His eyes blazed with self-recrimination. ‘If I hadn’t been burying my head in the sand and denying my feelings for you, I would have made the promise to be faithful without making it sound like I was doing you a favour. I buried my head in the sand rather than face the truth, and the truth is there has been no one else for me since the day I met you and there will be no one else but you for as long as I draw breath.’
‘Even if you’d made the promise to be faithful without it sounding like a favour I wouldn’t have believed it,’ she said softly. ‘I was too raw inside. I did shield myself in my studies and I didn’t even realise, and I didn’t realise I was running away from my hurt. You...’ She sighed. ‘Oh, you wonderful man, you’ve brought me to life and now my life is yours. I love you.’
And as she gazed into the clear brown eyes she loved so much she saw his love for her reflecting back at her and when their lips fused together she felt a rush of blood, knowing her heart would always beat for this man and that the blood in his veins would always flow for her.
Ten minutes later, the doctor opened the patient’s door, having psyched herself to go in there and kick the visitor out. Really, this was not on. She didn’t care how rich or powerful the patient was, he had a severe concussion and bruising and needed to rest, not be cavorting with women.
But then she saw the two fully dressed figures entwined on the bed and she stopped. The visitor’s head rested against the patient’s chest, the patient leaning into her, holding her protectively. Both were fast asleep.
There was something so symbiotic about the way they held each other that her breath caught and she sighed at the love she could feel enveloping them.
Hardly daring to breathe in case she woke them, she backed out of the room and softly closed the door.
EPILOGUE
‘REPEAT AFTER ME. I, Emiliano Alejandro Delgado, take you, Rebecca Jane Aldridge, to be my lawful wedded wife.’
‘I, Emiliano Alejandro Delgado, take you, Rebecca...’ Emiliano suddenly paused and mouthed, Rebecca? to the woman he was in the process of marrying.
She nodded, her face turning bright red with suppressed laughter.
‘Take you, Rebecca Jane Aldridge, to be my lawful wedded wife.’
‘To have and to hold...’
&nb
sp; Once they’d exchanged their vows and their rings—there had been one heart-stopping moment when Damián, his best man, had patted in the wrong pocket for them—and been pronounced husband and wife, they followed the priest with their two witnesses, Damián and Rebecca’s mother, to a private part of the church to sign the official document.
‘Rebecca?’ he whispered in her ear as he squeezed her bottom.
It was the only part of her he could currently squeeze as she was eight months pregnant. Their honeymoon would be spent on their English estate. Once they judged the baby to be old enough to travel, they would be moving back to Argentina, the place they both agreed felt more like home than anywhere else. Rebecca had a job lined up at an English-speaking research company close to the ranch, doing something similar to her current job with much reduced hours.
‘You never did read my résumé, did you?’ She sniggered.
And it was with the pair of them in fits of laughter that they signed the document that tied them together for the rest of their lives.
Coming next month
THE GREEK’S CONVENIENT CINDERELLA
Lynne Graham
‘Mr Alexandris,’ Tansy pronounced rather stiffly.
‘Come and sit down,’ he invited lazily. ‘Tea or coffee?’
‘Coffee please,’ Tansy said, following him round a sectional room divider into a rather more intimate space furnished with sumptuous sofas and sinking down into the comfortable depths of one, her tense spine rigorously protesting that amount of relaxation.
She was fighting to get a grip on her composure again but nothing about Jude Alexandris in the flesh matched the formal online images she had viewed. He wasn’t wearing a sharply cut business suit, he was wearing faded, ripped and worn jeans that outlined long powerful thighs, narrow hips and accentuated the prowling natural grace of his every movement. An equally casual dark grey cotton top complemented the jeans. One sleeve was partially pushed up to reveal a strong brown forearm and a small tattoo that appeared to be printed letters of some sort. His garb reminded her that although he might be older than her he was still only in his late twenties and that unlike her, he had felt no need to dress to impress.
The Cost Of Claiming His Heir (The Delgado Inheritance, Book 2) Page 16
