Читать книгу The Latin Lover's Secret Child - Jane Porter - Страница 6

IT WAS a beautiful afternoon, sunny, cloudless, the sky a pristine blue. Anabella Galván felt the warmth of the sun inside her, her happiness almost as bright.

“Tonight, Lucio, we’re going tonight. It’s finally happening.” She couldn’t help smiling. It was impossible to contain her excitement.

“You just like the idea of running away together,” Lucio answered, tweaking her nose. “You’re such a rebel, Ana.”

“Maybe. But I want to be with you and if we worried about what everyone else thought, we’d never be together.”

The gaucho nodded his head slowly, his thick black hair loose to his shoulders. He usually wore it tied back but Ana had pulled the leather tie from it moments ago. “You’re sure your brother has no idea—”

“Dante’s not even at the estancia. He’s in Buenos Aires. He’s left me with his American, Daisy.” Ana’s fine black eyebrows arched. “And Daisy is very sweet, but she’s far too trusting.”

“Your brother’s going to be furious.”

Ana pressed against Lucio’s chest and drew his arms around her. “Stop worrying. Everything’s going to be fine.”

They were sitting on a stone plaster wall behind the small town center and he dipped his head, kissed her cheek, near her ear. “I just don’t want you hurt. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

She laughed at his fears and snuggled closer. “Nothing will happen, Lucio.”

They were silent for a moment and the warm breeze ruffled Ana’s hair and danced across their skin. Anabella closed her eyes, savoring the afternoon’s warmth, the feel of the sun on the top of her head, the strength of Lucio’s arms. Everything would be perfect now. She and Lucio together. She and Lucio and the baby. She couldn’t forget the baby. The baby made all things possible.

His arms tightened around her. His mouth brushed her ear. “This is crazy, you know,” he said, his voice deep.

Ana broke free and turned to face him, her hands supporting her on the rough stone and plaster wall. She studied his face, the black brows, dark eyes, long nose, sensual mouth. He was lovely, but what made him lovely wasn’t the symmetry of his features or his imposing size, but rather the beauty on the inside. You could see the fire in his eyes. You could feel his energy. He was so alive. So real.

Unlike the people in her world.

Unlike her family.

Anabella swallowed and reaching up lightly traced his temple, his nose, his cheekbone and chin. “I love you, Lucio.”

His dark eyes burned hotter, the heat and desire a tangible thing. “Not half as much as I love you.”

But his fire didn’t scare her. She loved it. She wanted it. He made her feel big and powerful and free. “We’ll take the world by storm, Lucio. We’ll do it all. See it all. Have it all.”

He laughed softly and shook his head. “You’re not a dreamer, are you?”

“We will have it all,” she insisted stubbornly, glaring at him. “We’ll have each other. We’ll have the baby. What else is there?”

His dark eyes searched hers. She could tell he was amused by her passionate outburst. Little she did upset him. Little she said troubled him. He accepted her for what she was. He accepted her for who she was.

“I am poor, Ana,” he said slowly, deliberately, his dark gaze intense. “I will never be able to give you—”

“No!” She clapped a hand over his firm mouth, silencing his words. His warm breath tickled her palm but she didn’t remove her hand, unwilling to let him speak the words. “You give me love, Lucio. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, all I’ve ever needed. Everyone in my family insists on the importance of appearances, propriety, position. You’re the only one that just loves me for me.”

His fierce expression softened. He drew her hand from his mouth, kissing her palm as he did so. “But negrita, I want you to have everything.”

She scooted closer to him, inching forward until her thighs pressed his, inching until she’d practically climbed into his lap. “But love is everything.”

“And our baby?”

“Will be loved.” She leaned towards him and touched her lips to the bronze column of his throat. With his Spanish-Indian heritage he tanned easily and she hoped their child would take after him. She wanted the baby to have his dark hair, dark eyes, and golden skin.

“You’re determined to have it all, aren’t you?” Lucio growled before catching her face in his hands and kissing her deeply.

He drank her in, drank her as if she were air and light and water and Ana felt a shiver of pleasure race beneath her skin. His touch made her feel hot, brilliant, physical.

“Your love,” he said against her mouth, “is worth everything.”

She held him tightly, pressing her face against his chest. It was such a miracle that they’d found each other. Lucio was a gaucho. She was the daughter of a count. Running off together might be scandalous but it would be the best thing that had ever happened to her.

“You smile,” he said, his fingers tangling in her long dark hair.

And she was smiling. “I wish we were leaving now.”

“I’ll have a horse ready for you later. We’ll ride most of the night.”

She nodded, the bubble of happiness so big and bright it felt like she’d swallowed the sun itself. She lifted her head to better see his face. “Do you think your family will like me?”

“Without a doubt.”

She studied his dark eyes, his almost arrogant expression. Such a proud, noble face. He could have been a Spanish conquistador, an explorer in search of the new world. Instead he was hers.

“I’ll love you forever.”

At first he said nothing. Then his dark eyes grew somber. “You’re only seventeen. Forever is an awfully long time.”

But his cautious tone made her laugh and she gave her head a shake even as her warm laughter danced between them, a shimmer of exuberance. “And tell me, Lucio Cruz, when have I been afraid of anything?”