Mistress of His Revenge (Bought by the Brazilian #1) (20 page)

How had the picture got here...? Unless...

She jerked her head round and made an inarticulate sound when she saw Cruz standing in the yard. Her brain registered that he looked utterly gorgeous in black jeans and a polo shirt topped with a tan leather jacket. She closed her eyes, but when she opened them again he was still there, still real, still the keeper of her heart as he would always be.

Her voice shook. ‘Why are you here?’

His smile held faint irony. ‘I think I’ve proved that I can’t keep away from you, Sabrina,
meu amor
.’

My love! She only knew a few words of Portuguese but she told herself she must have misunderstood him.

‘I wanted to deliver Monty in person. I know how much you love him,’ he said softly. ‘I tracked down his new owners and persuaded them to sell him. Now he is yours for ever.’

She bit her lip. ‘I don’t understand. You told me you don’t want me to be your mistress.’

‘It’s true, I don’t.’

She stifled a gasp of pain. ‘Then why did you go to the effort of finding my horse?’ She dared not hope that his gesture of returning Monty to her meant anything. But as she stared at his face she saw deep grooves beside his mouth and an expression of wretched despair in his eyes that she knew was mirrored in hers.

‘Cruz...’ Her feet had been rooted to the ground but suddenly she was able to move and she ran to him, not caring that she was giving away the secret she had tried to keep hidden from him for the past weeks. She was tired of pretending that she felt nothing for him. Ten years ago she had been too unsure of herself to fight for the man she loved, but she was determined to fight for him now, even if it meant risking his rejection.

Tears streamed down her face as she flung her arms around his neck. ‘I’m sorry I left you years ago.’

‘
You’re
sorry?’ Cruz groaned. ‘You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who should apologise for wrongly accusing your father, and especially for the way I treated you.’

Sabrina eased away from him so that she could look at his face, but he pulled her hard against his chest and wrapped his arms around her, holding her so tightly that she felt the uneven thud of his heart.

‘My mother told me the truth about my father’s accident,’ he explained. ‘Your father did not send Vitor back to search for more diamonds. Papai chose to go back into the mine against Earl Bancroft’s advice. His obsession with finding diamonds made him ignore the risks and it was because of his decision that he left behind a grieving widow and two little girls without a father, and left a son so full of anger and bitterness that I behaved in a way that shames me,’ he said roughly. ‘I came to Eversleigh Hall to demand the map of the diamond mine from your father, but instead I met you and from the moment I saw you I was determined to have you in my bed again.’ His voice was laced with self-contempt. ‘Hardly the most noble ambition, but at the time I believed I had a right to want revenge for my father’s death and I was angry that you had left me ten years ago. Believe me,
querida
, when I say that I deeply regret forcing you to become my mistress.’

Sabrina shook her head. ‘You didn’t force me.’

‘I used your love for your home to blackmail you into selling yourself to me.’

‘I chose to be your mistress for one reason only,’ she said fiercely. ‘It wasn’t to save Eversleigh or to help my brother.’ She met his gaze fearlessly. ‘It was because I wanted
you
, the only man I have ever desired...and the only man I have ever loved and will love for the rest of my life.’

‘Sabrina,’ Cruz said hoarsely. But she hadn’t finished. She had found the courage to open her heart and now she could not hold back her emotions.

‘I wish you hadn’t made your fortune, because then I could prove to you that I love you for who you are, a wonderful man who took care of his family and worked hard to support them, a man who will never forget the hardship he endured as a child and has set up a charity to help other children living in poverty in the
favelas
. I would be proud to marry you if you were penniless because love is more precious than anything.’

She looked at him with her heart in her eyes. ‘I wish I had been brave enough to accept your marriage proposal ten years ago. I wish I had stayed in Brazil with you.’

‘I wish I hadn’t let you leave. I should have told you that the reason I had asked you to marry me was because I loved you.’ He gently stroked her hair back from her face. ‘I won’t make the same mistake a second time,
meu amor
.’

There was a catch in Cruz’s voice as Sabrina’s words swirled in his heart and healed the ache that had been with him for so long that he was almost scared to believe that her beautiful smile was for him and him alone.

‘I love you so much it hurts,’ he said rawly.

‘Cruz...my love.’ Sabrina could hardly speak through her tears, but there was no need for words as he claimed her mouth, kissing her with passion and a bone-shaking tenderness that revealed the true depths of his love for her.

‘
Eu te adoro
, I adore you.’ He whispered the words over and over again, in between taking soft sips from her lips, beguiling her with his tender adoration. She made a small sound of protest when he lifted his mouth from hers, but then caught her breath as he dropped down onto one knee in front of her and took a small square box from his jacket pocket.

The solitaire white diamond ring sparkled in the sunshine that had emerged from behind the clouds. The square-cut precious gem was flawless, perfect, just as Sabrina was perfect, Cruz thought. ‘Will you marry me,
meu anjo
, my angel, and be my only love for the rest of our lives?’

‘Willingly, and so very happily,’ she said, blinking back more tears as he slid the ring onto her finger. ‘But we won’t love each other exclusively.’ Her voice shook a little. ‘We will always love our first baby, Luiz. And hopefully there will be more children for us to love. I’d like at least four,’ she told him with a teasing smile that Cruz knew would hold his heart prisoner for ever.

‘Only four?’ He swung her up in his arms and strode into the hay barn, pausing to secure the latch on the door so that they would not be disturbed.

‘I don’t think we should wait to start trying for a family.’ Sabrina pulled off her tee shirt and bra and felt a delicious shiver of anticipation run through her as she watched Cruz sling his jacket on top of a hay bale, followed by his shirt, and move his hand to the zip of his jeans.

‘Indeed,’ he murmured, ‘and when do you think would be a good time to start trying,
gatinha
?’

‘Right now.’ She stepped out of her skirt and panties and smiled when he drew an audible breath.

‘How do you feel about holding our wedding here at Eversleigh Hall, followed by a honeymoon in the Seychelles...’ he paused for a heartbeat ‘...and making our home at Quinta na Floresta? There are stables for Monty, and your cat can move in too, if you insist.’

‘Of course we must take George with us.’ Sabrina linked her arms around Cruz’s neck and felt his very hard arousal push between her thighs. Her eyes gleamed wickedly. ‘I love him almost as much as I love you.’

‘I’m glad you said almost—’ Cruz pushed her flat on her back on a hay bale and grinned at her gasp of surprise as he surged into her ‘—because I plan on being the number one male in your life for ever,
meu amor
.’

‘For ever sounds perfect,’ she agreed.

* * * * *

If you enjoyed this story don’t miss Chantelle Shaw’s conclusion to her fabulous duet
BOUGHT BY THE BRAZILIAN
in... MASTER OF HER INNOCENCE
Coming soon!

Keep reading for an excerpt from
THE MARRIAGE HE MUST KEEP
by Dani Collins.

The Marriage He Must Keep

by Dani Collins

CHAPTER ONE

A
NOTHER
KNIFING
PAIN
speared into her lower back, radiating like a spiked belt around her middle and clenching her torso in a merciless fist that stole her breath.

“Please call Alessandro,” Octavia Ferrante begged in a pant, knotting her fists in the blanket beneath her as she braced herself for the next contraction. She was starting to fear that something would happen and she would never hear his voice again.

Her husband’s cousin Primo Ferrante only sighed. His hold on the curtain dropped with disinterest as he turned away from the window. “I told you. He said he would come if the baby is born alive. Otherwise he’s not going to put himself out.”

She didn’t want to believe it. Primo seemed to draw more enjoyment daily from tormenting her. She no longer trusted him and was sure this was more of his games.

But after this many months of being exiled to London by her husband, she was beginning to believe at least some of what Primo said. He was certainly correct in labeling her soft in the head. She’d let her life spiral beyond her grip. Pregnancy was an odd state, making you feel vulnerable in tiny degrees so you didn’t realize how defenseless you were until the need to fight arose and there was nothing to draw on. She had insulated herself here, licking her wounds over Alessandro’s rejection, and suddenly she had no resources. No one to help her.

Rebellion had backfired on her in the past so she rarely dissented, but she’d never been
weak
. At one time she’d been confident in herself, at least, if not truly assertive. She’d even felt a certain pride in those first few weeks of her marriage—

Another pain tore through her, making her grit her teeth to hold back a scream.

Alessandro
, she silently begged, as a fresh wave of perspiration rose to ice her skin. But she knew all about men who wanted live births of their sons. Maybe Primo was telling the truth about her husband’s lack of concern.

Call my mother then
, she almost said as another pain gripped her, but her mother was also in Italy and would have even less sympathy. Eight times she’d gone through this. Seven of them fruitless labors. Eight, really, since Octavia was hardly counted as a valid heir.

Female. Only good for one thing. This.

Octavia had lived in fear all her life that she would suffer as her mother had, losing babies before she could deliver them. For good reason, apparently. This was not the idealistic, natural process the books promised. This was torture. The baby was coming a month too early, and the pain was terrifying. Something was wrong. She knew it.

“Where is the ambulance?” she cried as the pain throttled back enough that she could catch her breath and speak. “The clinic said to call one as soon as I went into labor. Did you do it?”

“You’re being hysterical. These things take hours. You know that,” Primo muttered.

He had said he would, but she would bet her life that he hadn’t.

“Give me the phone,” she demanded, holding out her hand. Why was he even here? Why wasn’t her husband?

Her pains were coming on top of themselves. She had to wrap her arm across her swollen middle, fearful her skin would split under the stress.

“Please, Primo. I’m begging you. Take me to the hospital.”

“You’re an embarrassment to our family name,” he said, sneering at her rumpled, sweaty form and tear-streaked face. “Where is all this pride in duty you once told me you had? Show some dignity.”

His cruel words, delivered by a cruel man whom she hated with all her being, still had the power to wound. Because Alessandro had left her to this. Each time Primo verbally flayed her, she felt it as an uncaring swipe from Alessandro, like batting a fly. She had been his toy, perhaps, because he’d seemed so taken with her in those early days, but now she was nothing to him. Utterly forgotten. His indifference was a body blow every time she confronted it.

As anguished and defeated as that made her feel, she wasn’t about to give birth on her bed, risking her baby’s life and her own. Inching to the edge of the mattress, she braced herself on the night table, begging her knees to hold her. She’d crawl out of this room if she had to. Primo might wish her dead, but she wasn’t going quietly.

“Is that blood?” Primo demanded sharply. His hawk-like gaze swooped from her tense face to the spotted blanket and back. His complexion grayed.

As she looked at the small mark, what little body heat remained in her drained from her face and chest and limbs. This was it, then. Like her mother, she was doomed to lose her baby. If she survived, this would happen again and again as she tried to live up to her side of the marital contract. Why, oh, why had she thought going through with an arranged marriage would finally earn her some respect from her father? Why had she let herself begin to care for her husband, hoping to earn his affection?

Why had she opened her heart and taken this unborn infant deep inside it, believing that finally there would be a human on this earth who loved her back?

No one was ever going to love her. She was the only person she could rely on. It was time to face that.

With a sob, she staggered across to where he’d left her phone on the windowsill and snatched it up. Bowing her head against the wall, silently praying, she dialed the number for emergency services and told them to send an ambulance.

* * *

Alessandro Ferrante saw his wife was calling and his pulse tripped. He immediately tamped down on the involuntary reaction, ruthlessly regaining control over himself and annoyed that he let her catch him so easily, even when she was on the other side of the continent.

But some measure of surprise was legitimate. She never called him anymore.

Which he was trying not to let bother him.

“Cara,”
he answered, ears straining for clues as to why she was calling now. It was late in London, even later here in Naples, but apparently they were both still up. Perhaps the baby was kicking. She had said a few times that she had trouble sleeping through that. It had made him feel the distance between them quite keenly...