Stronger Than Passion by Sharron Gayle Beach Read Free Book Online Page A

Marquès had thrown his relations, or they did not care; since her bloodlines, disgraced or not, could be traced to royalty. Snobbery was rampant in this formerly colonial country. The Condé had his son . . . now, Mexican society was more than happy to welcome the widowed Christina de Sainz - formerly the Señora! Por Dios, it is the Señora de Sainz!”
    “Christina! How wonderful you look, Niña.”
    “You have neglected us for too long, too long.”
    The glad cries came at her from all sides, accompanied by hugs and kisses from ladies whom she barely remembered, and speculative salutations from gentlemen who regard her somewhat differently than they had while Felipé was still alive. Or, was that her imagination? Yet this all seemed bewildering somehow, and stifling. Hadn’t she wanted this, though? This attention, the conversation . . .
    “Christina, querida, you honor us - it is good to see you out.”
    She tilted her head up sharply, recognizing the deep masculine voice that murmured in her ear.
    “Luis!” Her forced smile widened to become genuine, pleasure making her eyes glow to a gold-dotted green. “I thought you were still off at your mines.”
    “Me? Trade this - ” one hand gestured grandly, “impressive gathering - for a few pesos of silver? Surely you know me better.”
    Luis’s smile was mocking, but his deceptively lazy gaze held only warmth as he shook his elegant head in respect. “At least you must be aware of my intense devotion - to you. Not to this.” At her laugh, he added seriously, “I knew you’d be here.” He took her arm and gradually eased her away from the eager group that surrounded her.
    Christina smiled to herself, pleased to be rescued, and happy that her rescuer was this man in particular, despite the Condé’s ridiculous words about him earlier. Luis Arredondo, Marquès de Lara y Briheuga, a widower himself, had been her friend since her beginnings here. They moved outside, onto a gallery. She leaned against a vine-clad pillar, head thrown back, white throat exposed to the night air. “I haven’t been in such a crush since Felipé’s funeral procession.”
    “Do not bring him up tonight.”
    “You never liked him, Luis. Don’t forget you admitted it once.”
    “Yes - and he died a week later. Then you refused to speak to me for months. Your feelings of guilt began then and have trapped you for two years.”
    Christina’s head snapped up and she pushed away from the pillar. “I will not quarrel with you.”
    “By all means don’t. I’ve no intentions of quarreling. I simply want to point out that the spoiled boy you were married to does not deserve the sainthood with which you’ve endowed his memory.”
    “I have not!”
    “Querida, Felipé ignored you completely! One of his fighting cocks would have made you a better husband.” Luis took her hand in both of his, rubbing at the coldness of her palm. “It is tragic that he died so young, I agree. But his own stupidity killed him. And I will be so crass as to say that you are better off now.” She tried to pull away, but he gripped her hand tighter. She glared at him with stricken eyes. He finally sighed, and released her.
    “Forgive me. I won’t speak of him anymore.”
    In the pause that followed, Luis scrutinized Christina and she allowed him to do so while she recovered her sense of equanimity. After a few moments, she looked up at his lean face and murmured, “I must go inside now, I haven’t yet spoken to our host.”
    “Santa Anna can wait a little longer. I want to tell you how beautiful you are, as I meant to when I brought you out here. When did I see you last? Six months ago?”
    She smiled. “Yes. You visited without my permission.”
    “But you were glad to see me, weren’t you?”
    “Perhaps.”
    “You are lovelier now, I believe, since you have decided to come out into the world. Even in that dark dress!”
    “It is the pearls.” She wore the entire collection of Rivera pearls,