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I snorted. “What are you talking about? He’s the son of a duke. It doesn’t get more noble than that.”
Maurine abruptly focused her gaze on me. “Of course. That’s what I meant. He’s noble by birth.”
Was she confused, or was she just confusing me? “Did people give you a hard time because of your background? I mean—” I shook my head awkwardly “—Alejandro said you grew up in the U.S., the daughter of sheep ranchers...”
“Shepherds, actually,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye.
“Exactly. You were a regular girl—then you married a duke.” I paused, trying to form the right words. “Did all the other aristocrats treat you badly? Did they call you a gold digger?”
“Me? No.” She blinked, and her expression abruptly changed. “Oh, my dear. Is that what’s been happening to you?”
I felt the color drain from my cheeks. “No, I...”
“Oh, you poor child.” Her plump, wrinkled face was sympathetic, her blue eyes kind. She reached over and patted my hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll triumph over all the ugly, silly words that people can say. Alejandro loves you. And you love him. That’s what matters.”
Now my cheeks went hot. “Uh...”
“And I’m so happy you’re part of our family.” She gave my hand a little squeeze, then chuckled. “I was a little worried. You should have seen the women he dated before you. He didn’t bring a single one home. For good reason. He knew I’d skewer them.”
“I’m the first woman he ever brought home?” I said faintly.
She nodded. Her gaze became shadowed as she looked at Alejandro farther down the table. “I was starting to think he’d never let any woman into his heart. That he’d never let anyone know who he truly is.” She gave me a sudden sharp look. “But you know. Don’t you?”
I furrowed my brow. Was she talking about a biblical knowing? Otherwise I didn’t really understand. “Um, yes?”
She stared at me, then releasing my hand, abruptly turned away. “How did you like the rose garden?”
I shivered in spite of myself. “It is...very beautiful,” I managed. “Like paradise. But what were you saying about Alejandro...?”
Maurine’s eyes shadowed. She bit her lip. “I can’t believe you don’t know. But if you don’t, he has to be the one to...”
“Querida,” I heard Alejandro say behind me. “It is time for bed.”
Seriously? He was announcing this in front of his grandmother and the whole table? I turned with a scowl, then saw him holding up our sleepy-eyed son. Oh. He meant Miguel. With dinner served so late in Spain, it was past our baby’s bedtime, and he was yawning in Alejandro’s arms, causing dimples in his fat little cheeks. “Right.” I held out my arms. “I need to give him a bath first....”
But Alejandro shook his head. He wasn’t letting me escape so easily. “I’ll help you. It’s time I learned to do these things as well, don’t you think?”
The gleam in his black eyes told me he knew I was scrambling to think of a way to avoid being alone with him tonight. Wondering if I could find a door with a lock. Surely there had to be one in this castle, with its choice of approximately five million rooms. I shook my head with an awkward laugh. “You don’t want to learn how to give a baby his bath and put him to bed, Your Excellency!”
He snorted at that last bit. “A man needs to know how to take care of his own son.” He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Don’t you agree?”
“Yes,” I grumbled.
“Such a good father,” Maurine sighed.
I narrowed my eyes, then gave him a smile. “I’ll show you how to change his diaper, too,” I said sweetly.
He gave me a crooked grin. “Excelente.”
A moment later, we were walking down the dark hallways, the noise of the happy dinner party receding behind us, beneath the thick inner walls of the castle.
“This way,” he said, placing his fingertips innocently on the base of my spine to guide me. I trembled.
Tonight, you will be in my bed.
Tonight, you will be my wife.
“Our bedroom is in the new wing....”
“New wing?”
“This castle might have been home to this family for four hundred years, but antiques are—how shall I say this?—not my style.”
Going up another flight of stairs, still holding our baby protectively with his muscled arm, he pushed open the door at the end of that hall. I followed him inside, and saw an enormous, high-ceilinged room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a balcony. Modern, masculine, stark. With only one real piece of furniture.
An enormous bed.
I stopped. “But where’s the crib?”
“I’ve had the room next door turned into a nursery.” To my relief, Alejandro didn’t even glance at the big bed, but just kept walking straight into the connecting door that led to the nursery, and its en-suite bathroom.
The bathroom connected to the nursery was as severe and cold as the master bedroom had been, all white marble and gleaming chrome. But it did have an amazing view. Wide windows overlooked the dark vistas of his estate, lit only by moonlight and distant twinkling lights on the horizon.
He stopped, frowning at the marble bathtub. “On second thought, I don’t think this is going to work,” he said tersely, looking from the enormous tub to the baby in his arms. “He’s too small. We need to get a special baby-size tub....”
It was endearing, really, to see how worried he was. “Tomorrow, if you like, we can go get one. For today, it’s no problem.” Smiling, I took Miguel in my arms. “Since he can’t sit up on his own yet, we’ll just hold him up. And be careful.” Leaning over, I turned on the water. “Having an extra pair of hands will help.”
His eyes met mine. “So you don’t...mind that I’m helping you?”
“No,” I said softly, “I’m glad.”
His expression changed. He started to speak, then turned away, sticking his hand in the water. When the temperature was Goldilocks-acceptable—neither too hot nor too cold—he plugged the drain so the bathtub could fill.
Sitting the baby on the marble counter, I started to pull off his clothes and the clean diaper beneath. “Can you grab his baby shampoo? It’s in my bag. Oh.” I turned. “It’s still in the car—”
With a grin, Alejandro held up the baby shampoo from a nearby drawer, along with a white, fluffy towel. “You mean this?”
“Oh,” I said. My cheeks went hot. “It was nice of your staff to unpack everything for me, but...”
“But?”
“It’s just strange to have someone going through my stuff.”
“You’ll get used to it. You’ll never have to lift a finger again, unless you want to. Especially with Abuela to oversee everything. She enjoys cooking, cleaning, shopping...” He paused, suddenly looking uncertain. “That is, if you wish that.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “If I?”
Alejandro came closer to me.
“You are the duchess now,” he said. “As far as the castillo is concerned, your rule is now law.”
My cheeks went hot. I licked my lips, tried to laugh as I sat on the edge of the bathtub and checked the water with my elbow. “So you mean I could fire everyone, throw out your tenants, buy Maurine a condo in Barcelona, get rid of all the furniture and paint the walls pink?”
But he didn’t laugh.
“If you like,” he said in a low voice. “Though I’d prefer we keep the staff and tenants. If you decided otherwise, I would need to take care of them some other way.”
“Give them all houses and jobs in Madrid?”
“Something like that.”
This kind of thinking surprised me. Most of the high-powered CEO types I’d seen in New York and London seemed to constantly need to resole their expensive shoes, due to the wear caused by stepping on all the little people. I looked at Alejandro curiously. “You really feel responsible for them, don’t you?”
“Of course. They—” Tightening his jaw, he looked away. “They’re my people.”
“Oh.” I bit my lip. “Maybe you’re not entirely the bastard I thought you were.”
“But I am,” he said in a low voice. He lifted his gaze to mine. “I can’t change who I am.”
Something about the expression of the chiseled lines of his handsome face made me feel all confused and jumbled inside. For a moment, the only sound between us was the water running into the bathtub, and the soft yawns of our baby.
“All right, fine. The staff can stay.” I sighed. “It would probably be easier to just get rid of me, then.”
His lips quirked upward. “Never. Sorry.”
“Miguel is your responsibility. Not me,” I pointed out. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not...one of your people.” I looked away. “I can support myself. Just so you know.”
“I do know. I’ve seen your paintings.”
I stiffened. Edward had often patronized my little hobby. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I think you’re talented,” he said softly. He pointed toward the nursery. “Or didn’t you notice?”
Frowning, I went to the door. And I sucked in my breath as I looked around the dark nursery, at the paintings lining the walls.
“You brought them,” I whispered. “All the paintings from Mexico...all the pictures I did of Miguel since he was born.”
“I wanted them here. With him.” He looked at me. “With us.”
A shiver went through me from deep inside.
“You are welcome to paint, or do any work you want,” he said gravely, “but only if it nourishes your soul. And any money you make is exclusively your own.”
“But that’s not right. I don’t expect you to support me, to support all of us—”
“That is my job,” he said firmly, “to financially support you and Miguel and, God willing, other children.”
Other children!
I swallowed, breathing hard. It was as if he were offering me everything I’d never dreamed I could ask for. After growing up an only child, an orphan, I’d always secretly yearned to have a large family. Now Alejandro didn’t just want to be a father for Miguel. He wasn’t offering just financial stability for us both. He wanted to give me more children, too.
And create those children inside me....
No! I had to get ahold of myself. No matter how Alejandro looked at me in the shadows, or how the husky sound of his voice made me tremble. No matter if he seemed to be offering me my dreams. Without love, without honesty, it wouldn’t work.
I shook my head. “You don’t need to do these things out of duty.”
“Not duty.” His hand cupped my cheek. “It is my honor. And more.” His eyes met mine as he said huskily, “It is my pleasure.”
My cheeks flamed with heat. Sparks of need crackled down my body from that single point of contact. My lips went dry, and tension coiled hot, deep inside.
Nervously, I pulled away, looking down at the enormous marble bathtub. “Water’s ready.”
I carried Miguel to the tub, and Alejandro was suddenly beside me, rolling up his long sleeves to reveal his powerful forearms, dusted with dark hair. “Allow me.”
Together, we propped him up to sit in the few inches of water. Alejandro held him upright as I lathered up Miguel’s soft, wispy dark hair. The baby was already yawning as we toweled him off, and got him into his blue footsie pajamas decorated with baby animals. He was half-asleep as I took him into the nursery, to cuddle him in a rocking chair and feed him before bed. Alejandro sat beside us in a cushioned window seat. His face was in silhouette as he watched us, with the wide view of the moon-swept valley and the distant lights of Seville.
I cuddled our baby close, until his eyes were heavy and his mouth fell off the nipple, though his plump mouth still pursed, drinking imaginary milk as he slept sweet baby dreams.
I finally rose to my feet.
“Can I put him to bed?” Alejandro said. “At least try....”
“Sure,” I said softly. I handed him the burping cloth, then the fuzzy cuddle blanket. “But you’ll need to burp him first.”
“Um...I’m not so sure that’s a...”
“You’ll be fine.” I lifted a sleepy Miguel against his shoulder, over the burping cloth, and showed him how to gently pat his small back. Hesitantly, Alejandro followed suit, until our baby came up with a huge burp, before he softly sighed, and his eyes became heavy again.
Alejandro flashed me a look of triumph. “Ha!”
Seeing him that way, this handsome, ruthless, broad-shouldered man holding his tiny sleeping son—our son—my heart twisted. I smiled, and hoped the dim light of the nursery wouldn’t let him see how I was fighting tears.
Against everything I’d once believed, everything I’d once feared, Alejandro was an amazing father. I knew he would take care of Miguel and love him and always be there to catch him if he fell.
“Now what?” he whispered.
“Tuck him into the crib, on his back,” I answered over the lump in my throat.
Alejandro moved slowly, careful not to wake Miguel, careful to hold his head. He looked as if he were sweating bullets, like a man under the pressure of disarming a nuclear weapon, as he gently set our baby down into his crib. Leaning over beside him, I placed Miguel’s favorite baby blanket, the fuzzy one decorated with elephants, softly by his cheek.
For a long moment, we stood over the crib, watching our son slumber, listening to his quiet, even breathing. Then Alejandro lifted his head to look at me.
Our eyes locked. And what I saw in his face left me shivering beneath the open weight of his hunger. Wordlessly, he pulled me from the room, closing the door behind us.
We were alone. In his bedroom.
I stared at him, my heart pounding. “You have to know—what happened in the garden today was a mistake.”
