Janette Kenny - Proud Revenge, Passionate Wedlock

“I’ve had enough. If you won’t leave, then I will,” she said.

“Running away already?” he asked. “What of this closure you’ve returned for?”

“I’ll never have that as long as I’m subject to your ill temper.” She turned away from him and gave a frantic scan of the room, wavering slightly. “Where is the phone?”

“In the bedroom.”

She pushed past him without looking at him, seeming not to be looking at anything at all. Though her course was straight, he caught the slight warble in her legs.

He was reminded again by how much weight she’d lost. “Who are you going to call?”

“That’s none of your business,” she said.

“It is if you’re using my phone.”

“Very well. I intend to ring for a taxi.”

“I will take you where you need to go.”

Did she think she could shack up with her lover in Cancún? The paparazzi would have a field day with that gossip.

“I prefer a taxi and a hotel that isn’t under your control,” she said.

“Then you should have stayed in England.”

That brought her facing him again, and this time there was no mistaking her shock. “You’ve acquired that much power?”

“ Sí, and I will not have you flaunt a lover under my nose!” He stalked her as a jaguar would a weakened prey, toying with her, knowing he had time to pounce.

She laughed, the sound bitter. “I assure you I do not have a lover here or anywhere.”

“You expect me to believe you?”

She whirled on him, her blue eyes snapping with anger now. “I don’t care if you do or not.”

“You should care, querida, for I hold your future in my hands.”

Her chin came up, but he caught the slight tremor in it. “Is that a threat?”

He hiked one shoulder in a careless shrug. “A promise. You want a divorce? I’ll grant you one.”

The wariness was back in her eyes again. “Are you serious?”

“ Sí. I don’t wish to remain married to an unfaithful wife any longer.”

“I never broke my vows,” she said, seeming angry that he’d insinuate she’d cheated on him.

He smiled, no more than a show of teeth. “ Sí, you did. I have proof of your infidelity.”

“That’s impossible!”

“No, querida, ” he said. “I have pictures, and witnesses.”

And now he had the satisfaction of seeing her face leach of color.

ALLEGRA stared at Miguel, scarcely believing they were having this insane conversation.

“I have spent the past five months in a private sanitarium,” she said, remembering every facet of the bland room and the benign gardens visible out her window, painfully mindful of the hours ticking by without word from her husband.

One day smoothly blended into the next, counting off weeks. Months. She knew the sparse staff by serene face and finally by name. Knew what times of the day to expect the doctor, and knew each session would be a struggle to remember the simplest things.

She knew when Sunday rolled around because she’d have a brief visit from Uncle Loring.

That had been the extent of her memory until one month ago. She certainly hadn’t had a lover there, or anywhere else for that matter.

“It is called Bartholomew Fields,” she said, and meeting his hard gaze, she challenged, “Look it up.”

His laugh was a whiplash to her nerves. “So now you are accusing your uncle of lying.”

“Of course not. Just what are you insinuating?”

“Your uncle told me you’d gone off on holiday with your lover, querida. ”

That couldn’t be. “Why would he say such a thing?”

“Because it is the truth,” he said, the dangerous hiss in his voice raising gooseflesh.

“No, it’s not.”

After five months, she’d come out of her sleep and begged to see Miguel and her beautiful daughter. That’s when the doctor had told her about the tragedy.

Cristobel had died in the auto accident. She’d barely survived herself, losing her memory and her ability to conceive again.

Miguel prowled the room, and she knew he would spring at the slightest provocation. “He suggested I divorce you.”

She shook her head, more confused than before. Uncle Loring had been painfully clear in telling her that Miguel held her totally to blame for their daughter’s death. He could not bear the sight of her. He wanted nothing more to do with her.

Yet Miguel claimed he’d come after her. Who was she to believe?

The slow, steady thud of her heart told her Miguel was telling the truth. True, her uncle had never liked Miguel, but that was no reason to lie to him about her health.

He was her husband. Then more than ever, she’d needed him at her side.

Instead Miguel had gone back to the Yucatán believing the worst of her. While she’d been locked away at Bartholomew Fields grieving for all she’d lost—her child, her marriage, her sanity.

She’d actually had no desire to go on, until her uncle’s health broke and she had to rally her own wits to care for him. It was then that she realized she must heed the doctor’s advice and return here for closure.

“I want to see this proof you claim to have,” she said, daring him to reveal his hand.

“I will when we reach Hacienda Primaro.”

A sliver of fear whispered over Allegra and she shivered. “I’ll pass on a visit to your family home.”

One dark eyebrow arched high over an eye that glittered hard and unyielding. “It wasn’t an invitation, querida . You want to see the proof of your indiscretion? It is there in my office. You wish to visit our daughter’s grave? She rests in the cementerio adjacent to the hacienda.”

She looked away and hugged her middle that pulsed with a hollow ache. The trepidation of returning to the hacienda unnerved her.

Something dreadful had happened there, for the apprehension dancing over her skin was real. But what? That memory was lost in the black void, and willing it to become clear in her mind only left her with a dull headache.

“Fine,” she said, capitulating without argument. “I will visit the hacienda and Cristobel’s grave, then return here.”

“No.” The single word cracked with finality, defying argument.

Her gaze shifted to Miguel standing tall and imposing in the sala. For the first time she noted the changes in him. He’d put on more muscle in his shoulders and torso, making him look formidable. Dangerous even.

He was not a man to be crossed.

Yet she didn’t fear him.

No, there was a mystique in his dark eyes that drew her. But though she’d fallen into his arms before, she’d not make that mistake again.

Never again would she allow herself to be shut out of her husband’s life. She certainly wouldn’t push her heart out there to be trampled again.

“You can’t order me about,” she said.

He inclined his head in arrogant agreement. “I would not attempt to, but if you wish to have an uncontested divorce, you will agree to my proposal.”

The dread in her stomach quivered and knotted, for his threat was clear—agree with him or spend years litigating her divorce. She didn’t have the funds for that and he knew it.

Still, she wasn’t about to capitulate immediately. “I can’t imagine why you’d wish to draw this out.”

His flash of teeth warned her she’d not like his answer. “Let’s call it equitable compensation for the fortune in jewelry you stole.”

She blinked, certain she hadn’t heard him right. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you would deny it.” He prowled the room with lazy insouciance, though his glittering eyes continued to skewer her to the spot. “I will admit this was partly my fault, for I gave you the combination to the safe. I trusted you.”

The accusation she’d stolen anything from him fired her anger. Though the memory of the hours surrounding the accident remained a blur, she knew she’d not availed herself of anything stored in the safe before she’d left the hacienda.

She felt certain that wherever she was going hadn’t warranted her wearing a fortune in jewelry. “All that I took with me that day were my wedding rings.”

He stared at her bare left hand. “Did you hock those as well?”

“I didn’t pawn any jewelry,” she said, hurt and angry that he continued to believe the worst in her.

“You still have them then?”

“I told you all I had with me were my wedding rings.”

He loosed a raw laugh. “Which you no longer wear.”

She stared at the stubborn man she’d lost her heart to and weighed her actions. Really, there was no choice.

“In this, I take delight in proving you wrong,” she said.

Allegra pulled on the gold chain hidden under her blouse until the diamond and emerald engagement ring and gold wedding band that had been created for her dangled free. “I lost a good deal of weight and feared I’d lose these.”

His long, lean fingers closed over the rings that were warmed from nestling between her breasts. A quicksilver glint of longing lit his dark eyes then vanished under his shrewd scrutiny.

“You expect me to believe you wear these all the time?”

“I couldn’t care less what you believe!” She gave the chain a tug, and he released the rings as if they burned him. “Perhaps it was silly of me to continue wearing the tokens of your troth when it is clear you no longer wanted me.”

“I never said I didn’t want you, querida. ” A slow rapacious smile curved the lips that had once ravished every inch of her body, and despite her annoyance with Miguel a tingling heat skittered over her body.

“Enough arguing,” she said. “Our prenuptial agreement details my settlement. I’ve no desire to contest it.”

“It would be a waste of time and money to do so.”

A fact she was well aware of. “Fine,” she said again when she felt anything but fine. “What is your proposal?”

“I want you.”

Those three words sucked the breath from her. Surely he couldn’t mean it like that. But as the seconds pounded by and he failed to explain, she suspected this was indeed intended to be a sexual connotation.

“Want me how?” she asked anyway in case her foggy mind was imagining things.

And right now her imagination was running horribly wild. Just the idea of falling into his strong arms again was a temptationshe found difficult to reject.

The carnal glint in his eyes threatened to melt her remainingresolve. “As my wife. My lover.”

His words flowed through her veins in a thick, warm rush of need. She should be offended he’d suggest such a thing—at the very least she should be angry he’d demote her to the role of mistress.

But the idea hummed through her senses and made her feel more alive than she had in months. For the life of her, she couldn’t think of a solid argument to throw out there.

In fact she was suddenly having difficulty dragging her gaze away from the solid expanse of his bare chest. Her fingertips tingled with the need to trace the hard slabs of muscle liberally sprinkled with black hair.

His bronzed skin would be warm and the hair soft as down. Her gaze tracked the hair that narrowed into a thin band and disappeared under his swim trunks that he wore indecently low on his lean hips.

For the first time since the accident, moisture gathered in the juncture of her thighs. Yes, she’d missed her husband. She’d missed the unbridled sex they’d shared. Missed lying in his arms afterward listening to the steady drum of his heart.