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“You, too, M—Alejandro.” Shaking her head with a wry smile, she reached up and patted his cheek, then looked down and kissed the top of our baby’s head. Looking among the three of us, she said, “I’m so happy for you, my dear. How it’s all turned out. You deserve a happy life.”
Leaving her cottage, we got back into his open Jeep, tucking Miguel into the baby seat in the backseat. As we drove across the bumpy road, I exhaled in pure relief. Closing my eyes, I turned my face up to the warm morning sun, feeling happy that I’d somehow—I had no idea how—passed the first test. Instead of her tossing me out, she’d fed me cookies. And I’d pretty much eaten all of them. What can I say? They were delicious. I really did need that recipe.
Smiling, I turned to look at my husband. “She was nice.”
“I’m glad you think so.” He was looking at me with a strange expression, as if he wanted to say something. I frowned, and I parted my lips to ask what he was thinking. Before I could, he looked away.
“We’ll visit the Delgado family next.”
For the rest of the day, as my confidence built, I spoke with all of the tenants on his estate. They seemed relieved and happy that I spoke Spanish, though they took pleasure in teasing me mercilessly about my accent. They adored the baby, and all of them praised my new husband to me, even when he was out of earshot. One after another, they told me stories of his noble character, his good heart.
“The land was neglected, and El Duque brought it back from the brink....”
“My roof was falling apart, but El Duque helped me fix it....”
“When the crop died, I thought I would have to leave. But El Duque gave me a loan, enough for seed and animals. He saved us, and he himself was only eighteen....”
“He gave my son a job in Madrid, when there were no jobs to be had. José would have left for Argentina.” The old woman wiped her eyes. “El Duque kept my son here in Spain, and I’m so grateful. I’ll never forget....”
By the time we visited the last house in early evening, I was no longer even nervous. I was relaxed, holding our baby, laughing and chatting with the farmers, complimenting them on their well-cared-for fields and animals, complimenting their wives on their delicious tartas. And seeing how they admired Alejandro, how they treated him with such respect. His people did love him.
And by extension, I realized, they were willing to love me, for his sake. And for the sake of our child.
On the drive back home over the dusty road, back to the castle at the top of the hill, we didn’t speak in the open-air Jeep. Miguel was sleeping in the back. Finally, I smiled at Alejandro. “That went well, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” he said shortly.
What could he possibly be mad about now? Biting my lip, I looked at the passing scenery. I was already starting to love Spain, especially Andalucía. The air was warm, dusty from our tires on the dirt road. The sun was starting to fade to the west, leaving a soft golden glow across the fields. I felt the warm breeze against my skin, the air scented by honeysuckle and bougainvillea and the jacaranda trees in bloom.
But Alejandro didn’t say a word. He pulled the truck in front of the garage. Getting out, he opened my door. When I stepped out of the Jeep, he pulled me into his arms. I looked up at him, biting my lip. “Alejandro, didn’t I do—all right?”
“All right?” he said huskily. I saw the warmth in his deep brown eyes. They held the same glow as the soft Andalucían morning. “I am proud of you beyond words, mi corazon. You made them love you. As...”
He cut himself off, but as I looked up at his face, my heart started to pound. “They loved me for your sake.”
“No.” He shook his head. “They loved you only for yourself. Your warmth, your smile, your...” Reaching down, he stroked my cheek. Something seemed to stretch tight between us, making me hold my breath. His hand trailed down my hair, down my back. “Come upstairs with me,” he whispered. “Right now...”
“But dinner...”
He lowered his head to mine in a deep, passionate kiss, taut and tender, slow and sweet. I clutched his shoulders, lost in his embrace.
