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Then I saw the castle, high on a distant hill, and I sucked in my breath. It was like a fairy-tale castle, rising with ramparts of stone and turrets stretching into the sky.
“Is that...?” I breathed.
“Sí,” Alejandro said quietly. “My home. The Castillo de Rohares. The home of the Dukes of Alzacar for four hundred years.”
It took another fifteen minutes to climb the hill, past the groves of olive trees and orange trees. When we reached the castle at last, past the ramparts into a courtyard surrounding a stone fountain, he stopped the car at the grand entrance on the circular driveway. He turned off the engine, and I could hear the bodyguards climbing out of the SUV behind us, talking noisily about lunch, slamming doors. But as I started to turn for the passenger-side door, Alejandro grabbed my wrist. I turned to face him, and he dropped my arm.
“I am sorry I hurt you, Lena. When I left you last summer, when I refused to return any of your phone calls—I did that for good reason. At least—” his jaw tightened “—it seemed like good reason.”
“No, I get it,” I said. “You didn’t want me to love you.”
“No. That’s not it at all.” He lifted his dark eyes to mine. “I didn’t leave because you loved me. I left because I was falling in love with you.”
CHAPTER SIX
I STARED AT him in shock.
“What?” I breathed.
A hard knock banged against the car window behind me, making me jump. Turning my head, I saw a plump smiling woman, standing on the driveway outside, dressed in an apron and holding a spoon. She waved at us merrily. I saw the bodyguards greeting her with obvious affection as they went into the grand stone entrance of the castle.
“Another housekeeper?” I said faintly.
“My grandmother,” he said.
“Your—” I whirled to face him, but he had already opened his door and was getting out of the car, gently lifting Miguel out of his baby seat. Nervously, I got out of the car, too, wondering what the dowager Duchess of Alzacar would make of me.
“Come in, come in,” she said to the bodyguards, shooing them inside. She kept switching from English to Spanish as if she couldn’t quite make up her mind. “Knowing Alejandro, I’m sure you didn’t stop for any lunch, so everything is ready if you’ll just go straight to the banqueting hall...”
“Abuela,” Alejandro said, smiling, “I’d like you to meet my son. His name is Miguel.”
“Miguel?” she gasped, looking from him to Alejandro.
He blinked with a slight frown, shaking his head. “And this is my new wife. Lena.”
“I’m so happy to meet you.” Smoothing one hand over her apron, she turned to me with a warm smile, lifting the wooden spoon high, like a benign domestic fairy about to grant a really good wish. “And your sweet baby! I can hardly wait to...” Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “Your new what?”
Coming over to me, Alejandro put his free arm around my shoulders. “My wife.”
She lowered her spoon and looked me over, from my long hair to my soft white blouse with the Peter Pan collar, to my slim-cut jeans and ballet flats. I braced myself for criticism.
Instead, she beamed at me, spreading her arms wide.
“Oh, my dear,” she cried, “welcome to the family. Welcome to your new home!”
And she threw her arms around me in a big, fierce, welcoming hug.
Shocked, I stiffened. Then I patted her awkwardly on the back.
“But I’m being silly,” she said, drawing back, wiping her eyes with her brightly colored apron. “My name is Maurine. But please call me Abuela, if you like, as Alejandro does. Or Grandma. Or Nana. Whatever. I’m just so happy you’re here!”
“Thank you,” I said, unsure how to handle such immediate warmth and kindness.
“But you—” she whirled on her grandson with a scowl “—you should have known better than to elope!”
Alejandro looked abashed. It was a funny, boyish expression on his masculine face. “We would have waited and had a proper wedding,” he said, rubbing his neck sheepishly, “but Abuela, it happened so quickly....”
“Huh. Don’t think you’re getting off that easy. We’ll talk about it later. Now—” her plump face softened as her eyes lit up “—let me hold that baby.”
