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Alyssa smiled. “He has every right to be.”
Lucas’s arms tightened around her. “Alyssa Montero McDonough. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
The tears Alyssa had fought against spilled from her brimming eyes.
“I would be proud to be your wife, Your Highness,” she said.
Lucas kissed her again. Then he mounted the black stallion, drew his novia up behind him, and they rode slowly into the warm beauty of the Texas morning.
Their wedding, everyone said, was a storybook affair.
The ceremony was held on the Reyes estate in Marbella, on a hilltop overlooking the sea. The bride was beautiful and wore a gown of white lace. It was new, but her lace mantilla had belonged to the groom’s grandmother.
The groom was incredibly handsome in his black tux. His two best men—there had to be two, he said, and never mind anyone who said there should only be one—were almost as handsome in their tuxes. At least, that was what Alyssa said.
Their wives, Aimee and Ivy, whispered to Nicolo and Damian that they really were the handsomest men in the world.
There was dancing and champagne, lobster and filet mignon. There was a flamenco guitarist, a string quartet and a famous rock band, and when the band veered from its image long enough to play an old-fashioned waltz, Felix got up from his wheelchair and danced with the bride.
At last, the newly married couple slipped away. The groom carried his bride up the stairs to his bedroom.
It was their bedroom now.
He kissed her tenderly, whispered to her, then stepped out on the balcony, as nervous as any man about to make love to his bride for the first time.
They had slept apart for the past month. For three months now, counting the time they’d been separated. Since their reconciliation, they’d kept their intimacy to hot, deep kisses that left them both burning with desire. It had been Lucas’s idea. He wanted to take his virgin bride’s innocence as he wished he had that first time.
It was his special gift to her.
He had no way of knowing that Alyssa had a special gift for him, too.
When she was alone, she took off her bridal finery and drew on the hand-sewn white silk nightgown that had been Dolores’s gift to her. Her face glowed with happiness.
Lucas turned when she said his name. His heart leaped when he saw his beautiful wife.
“I love you,” he said. “With all my heart.”
Alyssa went to him and he gathered her close and kissed her before swinging her into his arms and carrying her to their bed, the white pillows and duvet sprinkled with red rose petals.
“Lyssa,” Lucas said softly.
He kissed her. Caressed her. Undressed her so slowly that, for them both, it was the sweetest agony.
When she lay naked before her husband, Alyssa took his hand.
“This is our first night together as husband and wife,” she said. “But do you remember, my Spanish prince, the first time we made love?”
Lucas brushed his mouth over hers. “I will never forget it, amada.”
“And do you remember that we didn’t use a condom?”
His eyes darkened, but only for a second. “Si. And even though I long to see you with my child in your womb, amada, if you wish me to wear one tonight—”
Alyssa laid his hand over her belly. He looked puzzled. Then he caught his breath as he felt the new, sweet roundness of her flesh.
“Amada. Are you—are we—”
“Si, my love. We’re having a baby.”
