Proud Revenge, Passionate Wedlock. Janette Kenny

      Tonight she’d be his to command. To conquer.

      “Where is your jewelry?” he asked, his deep voice startling her from admiring the refined gentleman standing before her.

      Miguel had told her once that his Spanish ancestors had come to Mexico to conquer it. That one conquistador had seduced a Mayan princess yet settled here, joining two worlds, two cultures.

      His grandfather had achieved great wealth. His father had capitalized on it to increase the fortune. But it was Miguel’s cunning and daring that propelled the family holdings well into the exalted group of billionaires.

      He was a conquistador, his bearing proud and unflinching. His jawline was strong, the cheekbones high and pronounced. He had a straight aristocratic nose, and his dark mocha eyes glittered with a mesmerizing light that burned from within.

      But the feature she’d loved most about Miguel was the shape of his mouth. The lower lip was full and curved just so. The upper one had a generous bow that arched as if hinting he was always amused.

      Or mocking, as he seemed now.

      Allegra stuffed a few essentials into an evening bag, annoyed his spicy scent wrapped around her like loving arms. It annoyed her that he’d brought up the subject of jewelry.

      She turned her left hand so he could see her rings. She’d found tape in a cabinet in the loo and added enough to keep her rings from falling off her fingers.

      “The gold chain did nothing for the gown,” she said, when his dark gaze fixed on hers again.

      She’d left her jewelry at the hacienda. She didn’t miss the extravagant pieces that had passed down through his family, for the designs dripping with gems had never appealed to her. But she mourned the loss of those few items, especially the emerald suspended on a delicate gold chain, that he’d given her after she’d told him she was pregnant.

      A sacred bond, he’d called it. Green gems held special meaning for the Mayan, so it was only fitting that they commemorate their union with an emerald, and mark the conception of their firstborn daughter with one as well.

      His thick eyebrows slanted, his gaze appraising, his stance domineering. “Perhaps the effect is better without adornments.”

      “Whether it is or not, this will have to do.” She lifted her chin. “Are we ready then?”

      “Sí. My car is in the garage.” He grasped her arm, his touch firm and warm. Commanding yet intimate.

      She moved with him in silent synchronization, a woman clearly attune to her man’s slightest nuances. The months apart hadn’t changed that.

      The sense of oneness they projected drew attention. They’d always made a striking couple, whether they consciously tried or not. They were just that in sync with each other’s moods and desires.

      Now was no different. But the image they projected was a scam.

      He was angry. Furiously so.

      Well, she was annoyed, too. Nothing had changed. He still regarded her as an adornment on his arm.

      Like everything else he owned, she’d been a possession. But was that why she’d left him? She hoped she’d find the answers here soon.

      She proceeded him through the side door into the garage, expecting to find the luxury sedan that he favored for long road trips. A sports car sat in its place, as sleek and black as the jaguar that bore its name.

      As dangerous as the man escorting her into it and then striding around the hood with masculine grace and climbing behind the wheel.

      “Is something wrong?” he asked when he caught her staring at him.

      The list was long, but she shook her head in answer. What difference did it make that she was an uneasy passenger after the accident?

      It was just another of the crosses she had to bear. She fastened her seat belt, somewhat surprised when he did the same for he’d never done so before.

      He zipped out of the garage and onto the road, then threw the car in gear and sped off. The jolt pressed Allegra against the seat, and for a moment she felt a spate of panic that had haunted her since that night.

      She steadied her breathing and focused on the diverse scenery as they zipped down Carretera 307, the jungle to her right and the expanse of white sand beaches to her left.

      This was one of the most beautiful places on earth, yet tonight she was so filled with apprehension that she feared it would take little provocation for her to jump out of her skin.

      “Having second thoughts?” he asked.

      “No,” she said, taking small pleasure that he’d picked up on her unease.

      At least she hadn’t been wrong about that affinity with Miguel! But it also meant she’d have the devil’s time hiding her emotions from him.

      “Relax and enjoy the drive.”

      “I’m trying to.” She pressed her palms flat against her thighs and drew in several calming breaths.

      “How is your mother?” she asked to fill the silence.

      “Busy with her grandson,” he said.

      “Your sister’s son was a precocious child,” she said, and bit back adding he was spoiled and rude.

      He nodded as he wove in and out of traffic. “He enjoys having all of Madre’s attention.”

      “That will change when another grandchild is born,” she said, certain Miguel’s sister would have more.

      But Miguel would likely remarry and start a new family one day. She ignored the stab of pain that thought wrought.

      Even if they could overcome their differences, even if they could come to trust one another one day, one fact remained to make her totally unsuitable as his wife. She couldn’t have any more children, and a man in Miguel’s position would want heirs.

      “Sí, it will be a big adjustment for him,” he said, and she responded with a murmur of agreement.

      She took the time to study Miguel, noting the new lines in his face. The sharper glint in his eyes. The somber expression that hinted he always had something troubling him.

      A flicker of light behind them caught her eye. She looked back just as a car swerved sharply inches from their bumper.

      “No!”

      She shielded her face, expecting the air bag to explode into her. A cry sliced above the scream of tires, the sound crackling with agony and terror.

      He whipped the car to the side of the highway and fishtailed on the narrow shoulder as he brought the car to a dead stop.

      “Allegra!” He grabbed her arms and forced them down.

      She blinked at him then stared into the rear seat, her mouth dry, her breath no more than a flutter. “Oh God, I thought—”

      She couldn’t go on, couldn’t force the words out.

      “You thought what?” he said, a quaver creeping into his deep voice as his hands glided up and down her suddenly chilled arms. “Tell me.”

      “I thought that car was going to hit us.” She closed her eyes and forced herself to take metered breaths to still her racing heart. “Like before.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “The accident.”

      A tense silence vibrated between then.

      “A car hit you?” An incredulous rake of his gaze followed his question that echoed with skepticism.

      She shook her head, annoyed her memory was littered with holes. “I don’t know. I hear the explosion of the airbags and the suffocating pressure on my chest. I hear Cristobel crying.”

      “What