CHAPTER ONE
"So you're my wife, are you? Well, that's interesting!"
Eyes the color of a storm-heavy sky raked over Louise's slender figure as she stood in the doorway of her cottage, so transfixed by shock that she was unable to move. Even the jeans and warm cherry-red sweater she wore were suddenly no protection against the cold.
"Tell me, mi esposa —" he laced the words with dark satire "— when exactly were you going to inform me of this fact?"
"I wasn't.…'"
It was all that Louise could manage. In the moments since she had opened the front door in response to an imperious and impatient sounding knock, she barely recognized her world in the center of the emotional tornado that whirled around her.
But she certainly recognized the man who stood on her doorstep. Eight years was a long time, but she would always know Alex anywhere. His sort of superb bone structure only got better with age. He was too tall, too dark, too imposing — too devastating physically — ever to forget, even if she didn't have deeply personal reasons for never being able to put him out of her mind.
"You weren't?"
The darkly satirical tone deepened on the question.
"You weren't going to tell me — your husband — of this secret marriage? Didn't you think that would be wise, or at least courteous, querida?"
"No."
It was the honest truth. She had certainly never thought that her foolish and impulsive declaration would ever have been believed by anyone. And she had definitely never thought that it would reach the ears of Alex Anderson — Alex Alcolar, as she supposed she must now think of him since he had taken his father's name. He was hundreds of miles away, living his new life in Spain. He would never hear of her, or spare her a thought, let alone give a damn about the unthinking cover-up she had used in a moment of crisis.
But it seemed that he had. And what had been purely and simply an impulsive act of defence had turned into another unneeded complication in her life.
The worst sort of complication of all. She did not want Alex back in her life.
"I wasn't going to tell you any of it. So who did?"
Alex shrugged broad shoulders under a fine leather jacket.
"I don't know. I received an anonymous letter, posted in this village, telling me that I was neglecting my wife. The wife I didn't know I had. So naturally I came as quickly as I could."
"But you must have known that the 'marriage' wasn't a real one. And that it had nothing to do with you."
"Nothing?" His echoing of the word was riddled with scepticism and mockery. "If you're using my name, claiming to be my wife, then I think it has everything to do with me. As I recall, when you knew me before, your father didn't think I was fit to associate with your family, and you ended up swallowing everything he said. Now suddenly you're claiming to be married to me! So I think you'd better start explaining. Start by telling me where, exactly, this wedding took place."
"You don't really need me to answer that do you?" Louise tossed at him, hazel eyes sparking defiance. "Because you know where — exactly. Nowhere! The wedding didn't take place anywhere. As you are only too aware, there was no wedding ever!"
To her surprise he actually smiled, the curve of his lips and the light in his clear gray eyes brightening his whole face and making her stomach turn over, her pulse quicken in instant response.
"I'm glad to hear that. I was beginning to wonder if my mind was going. Or at least my memory — because I have no recollection…"
"Of course you don't! And there's nothing wrong with your mind, as you know only too well. You've not forgotten anything. In fact, you must have known that all this was nonsense in the first place — so why, exactly, are you here now? What on earth made you travel all the way from — from…"
"From Andalusia," Alex supplied. "That's where I live now."
"Of course. That's why you're suddenly littering your conversation with Spanish phrases!"
The Alex she had once known hadn't spoken a word of Spanish. He hadn't even known that he had any Spanish connections — that the blood of a Spanish aristocrat ran in his veins. It had only been after his mother had died that he had discovered the truth about his father.
"I am Spanish," Alex put in coldly. "At least, half-Spanish. My father is Spanish. My home and my work are in Andalusia. Most days I speak nothing but Spanish."
"Which makes it all the more puzzling why you've bothered to come here.…"
And that was a question that he had been asking himself for days, Alex admitted.
Why was he travelling to England on what was little more than a whim?
Why had he snatched at the smallest excuse to get on a plane and head straight back to the village where he had grown up? The village that he believed he had left far behind in his past, where it belonged. He thought he'd shaken the dust of the place from his feet and that he would never, ever go back to the woman who had once almost destroyed his life — and yet now here he was.
So why?
Because he couldn't help himself.
"I wanted to meet the woman who claimed to be my wife."
His beautiful mouth curved into a smile that made Louise's blood run cold.
"I wanted to see what had become of you."
"Nothing exciting as you can see. In fact nothing at all!"
The rather wild hand gesture took in herself and her surroundings, betraying more than she wanted to reveal. These were not at all the conditions in which she had lived in the past. And she knew from the way that Alex's eyes narrowed swiftly that he, too, was remembering how it had once been.
"What happened?"
It was cold, crisp, incisive. She didn't want to answer, but she knew he wouldn't let her dodge the question.
"Do you mean why am I here, in this cottage, instead of up at the manor house where I used to be? Things change, Alex! Nothing remains the same."
"You have," he put in sharply. "You haven't changed. You're still as beautiful as ever."
It was the last thing she expected, and it hit her with the force of a blow to her chest, driving all the breath from her body. And what made matters worse was the new and disturbing darkness that hadn't been there before in those gray eyes. A darkness that spoke of physical arousal and a smouldering sensuality that stirred memories she had thought long buried.
Memories she wanted to stay hidden.
"No…" she managed huskily, not at all sure precisely what she was saying no to.
"Yes," Alex countered, the single word rough on his tongue. "You're just as lovely as you always were. More, if that were possible…"
The single step he took forward broke the spell that seemed to have coiled around her. It brought him too close. Too near. Another couple of movements and he would have been right here in her house — her home — and that would be more than she could bear.
"No!" she cried, much more emphatically this time.
And whirling she dashed into the cottage, slamming the door right in his face.
"Go away!" she shouted, praying her words would reach him through the thickness of the wooden barrier. "I don't want you here!"
The silence was unexpected and disturbing. Could he really have gone? Could it have been that easy?
It wasn't.
She barely had time to even think about relaxing when a faint sound from the back of the house had her stiffening again.
The dash through to the kitchen must have only taken seconds, but she was still too late. The back door opened and Alex stepped into the tiny room, kicking the door shut and leaning back against it.
"All right, Louise," he said. "Don't you think it's about time you started explaining?"
07-05-07, 05:45 PM
WIFE FOR REAL ..... by kate walker
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