The Helen Bianchin And The Regency Scoundrels And Scandals Collections. Louise Allen

her hands, then let them fall to her sides in a helpless gesture. ‘Savannah rang, and tricked Ana that she was Siobhan, then attempted to have me believe Ana had made a mistake over the name.’

      ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’

      ‘Not particularly.’

      ‘Elise——’

      ‘Don’t, Alejandro. Please.’ She felt so incredibly vulnerable that if he touched her she would shatter and fall in an ignominious heap at his feet.

      Even now, the pain was still there, yet she managed to hold his gaze with dignity. Dared she risk all and reveal how she felt? Expunge the anguish, and pray that Siobhan was right?

      Drawing a deep breath, she took courage in both hands and began.

      ‘I need to tell you that I viewed my father’s death as a ticket to escape a marriage I considered to have been arranged in hell. The night he lay so ill in hospital, I forgot to take the Pill. Ironic, wouldn’t you say, that he should die within hours of my discovering I might be pregnant?’ She bit the edge of her lip to prevent it from trembling, and the breath caught in her throat as he lifted both hands to frame her face.

      ‘So you ran.’ His thumb traced the edge of her lower lip. She swallowed involuntarily, and his eyes narrowed faintly as he witnessed her nervous reaction.

      ‘I considered I had no choice.’

      ‘Gracias, Elise.’ There was a bitterness apparent that tore her apart.

      There was no doubt he desired her, but desire alone had little to do with need, love. ‘After the accident,’ she began shakily, ‘you were always there, the image of a devoted husband.’ Her eyes searched his, seeing the darkness apparent, the faint tenseness as he waited for her to continue. ‘When my memory returned, I felt betrayed. I had trusted you,’ she cried in an anguished whisper.

      He was quiet for a long time. ‘There was no reason for you to distrust me.’

      ‘You perceived it as a game,’ Elise went on with incredible sadness. ‘With me as the pawn.’

      ‘From the beginning,’ he corrected quietly, ‘you were the prize.’

      ‘Prey,’ she countered. ‘Ruthlessly hunted, and relentlessly lured into a trap.’

      His gaze was unwavering, intense, and impossible to read.

      ‘You acted a part,’ she accused, and saw his eyes darken.

      ‘Never,’ he assured her after a long silence, and her features paled.

      ‘I don’t believe you.’

      ‘No? You perceived our lovemaking as a calculated coupling without any depth of emotional involvement?’

      It had never been that, not even in the beginning. ‘Love isn’t a prerequisite for satisfactory sex.’ She felt as if she were breaking up inside, her body slowly shattering with each successive word he uttered.

      He was silent for what seemed an age, and his voice when he spoke sounded like silk being sliced by the finest tempered steel. ‘You can describe what we share as merely clinical satisfaction?’

      She looked at him carefully, seeing the strength apparent, the hint of passion in the depths of those dark eyes. ‘No,’ she owned at last.

      His thumb trailed to her cheekbone, explored the faint hollow beneath, then slid to rest at the corner of her mouth. ‘Por Dios,’ he declared huskily. ‘An admission.’

      Time stood still, and she was willing to swear that her heart stopped beating for several seconds before kicking in at a quickened pace as the pad of his thumb slid halfway along her lower lip to rest there momentarily before gently compressing its fullness.

      ‘And this,’ he drawled with emphasis, as his hand shaped one sensitised breast, deliberately tracing a provocative pattern back and forth across its aching peak, ‘is your body’s reaction to the caress of any man?’

      Dear God, no. You, she vowed silently. Only you.

      His eyes were dark, almost black, gleaming like polished onyx as he reached into her mind and so easily read what was there.

      ‘Impossible, of course, for you to comprehend you are the love of my life?’

      The silence was so total that she forgot to breathe, then her chest lurched as she drew in the first of several deep ragged gasps of air.

      ‘They’re only words, Alejandro,’ she managed shakily, wanting desperately to believe them.

      ‘They are all I have left.’ His eyes were dark, unguarded, and filled with a depth of passion that made her senses reel.

      ‘Your amnesia provided me with a heaven-sent opportunity to begin afresh. Without the barrier of your animosity, it became possible for you to believe you were the very much loved wife of a man who clearly adored you.’ He paused, and his touch was so gentle that it made her want to cry. ‘I prayed your memory loss would last long enough for those weeks we had together to make a difference.’

      ‘The baby——’

      His finger pressed closed her lips, and his eyes were incredibly dark. ‘Make no mistake, querida. The child you carry is a wonderful bonus. But it is you I care for. You.’

      She shivered at the soft invasive pull on her emotions as his fingers slid to her nape and angled her head towards his.

      ‘Please—don’t,’ she whispered in anguish.

      His head lowered to hers, and his breath was warm against her lips. ‘Why not, querida?’

      Her stomach lurched, then curled into a painful knot as his mouth brushed hers. She couldn’t have moved, even if her limbs had been willing. ‘Because I can’t think when you do that.’

      She sensed rather than glimpsed his smile. ‘Is it so important that you think?’

      The tip of his tongue touched the corner of her mouth, savoured the indentation, then lightly traced the full curve to the centre. Liquid fire coursed through her veins, igniting each separate nerve-end until her body seemed one vibrant entity.

      ‘If I don’t,’ she managed in strangled tones, ‘you’ll simply sweep me into oblivion.’

      She sensed his smile, and heard the faint husky growl emerge from his throat. ‘Would that be so bad?’

      His mouth was creating the sweetest magic with her own, a slow, tantalising prelude to what must surely follow, and her body began to heat, every nerve-end flaring into vibrant life as her soul reached out to his.

      ‘Alejandro…’ His name escaped her lips in a shaken gasp as he drew her close in against the swollen evidence of his desire.

      It was almost as if he needed to absorb her—flesh, bones, the very essence that made her unique—and she could feel herself slowly melting, slipping inevitably down into a glorious pool of swirling warmth where there was only an acute perception of the senses, the sweet promise of two souls perfectly in accord merging and becoming one.

      With a sense of desperation she dragged her mouth away from his, aware in a moment of complete lucidity that it was because he allowed it.

      Her lips felt soft and swollen, tender, and they trembled slightly beneath the moistness of her tongue as she unconsciously ran its tip along the lower edge.

      His eyes flared, watching the movement with mesmerised fascination.

      Almost as if he could not restrain himself, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against her temple, then pressed each eyelid closed before trailing down to the edge of her lips. His touch was as light as a butterfly’s wing, caressing, loving, and she wanted to cry out against his flagrant seduction.

      ‘I expressed my adoration with the touch of my hands, my mouth…my