than a hundred and eighty cakes, mounted on twenty stands. Each cake must be officially ‘cut’ by the bride, for fear of offending many guests, so Sebastian led Maggie ceremoniously around the long tables so that she could briefly touch each cake with a silver knife.
By the time the long reception was over Maggie was feeling tired, but she knew the feeling wouldn’t last. The mere thought of Sebastian could drive out everything but eager anticipation.
The wedding dress was gone, its grandeur no longer needed. In its place was a nightdress of simple white silk, gossamer thin, an invitation to the man she had chosen to remove it.
Now, as she prepared for her wedding night, her thoughts were full of the last time she had lain in his arms, driven almost to madness by the force of her own desire. She didn’t know what else marriage to Sebastian might mean, but she knew it meant heart-stopping sensations, her very self burned up in the furnace heat of the passion they created between them. For the moment, that would be enough. The rest could come later.
For just a moment she was assailed by qualms. There was an uneasy echo in her head, an echo of herself in times past. Once there had been a young girl who tried to console herself for her failing marriage with the thought that their passion would bind them until matters improved. Because passion meant love. Didn’t it?
She’d learned better in bitterness and grief, and she wished that sad little ghost hadn’t come to haunt her tonight. She rubbed her eyes, banishing that other girl back into the past, where she belonged. Because Sebastian wasn’t Roderigo. He wasn’t a weakling, always taking the easy way. He was a difficult man in many ways, but she could trust his strength and his honesty.
As for herself, she knew that she was mentally the right wife for Sebastian as the scatterbrained Catalina could never have been. And he knew it too. They would have a good marriage.
Then she heard Sebastian’s step outside, and something quickened in her. She gave a wry smile of self- mockery. She’d been fooling herself with prosaic talk about mental suitability. She had married Sebastian de Santiago because he could bring her body to life, because the mere sound of his footstep could throw her into a fever. She thought of the night to come, and the joyous pleasure that would soon be hers…
The door opened, and Sebastian stood there with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Maggie knew a twinge of disappointment. She’d pictured him as he’d been on their last night together, when he’d been as eager for their union as she. But Sebastian was still dressed as he had been all day, except that he’d discarded his tie and torn open the throat of his shirt. Still, she thought, consoling herself, she would have the pleasure of undressing him. She smiled into his eyes and was shocked to find there was no answering light.
She closed the door behind him as he came into the room and set the glasses down. His movements were measured, as though he were under great strain and enduring it with difficulty. He opened the bottle, filled both glasses and handed one to her.
‘It has been a long day, filled with toasts,’ he said. ‘But this is the one I’ve been looking forward to-with interest.’
How strange his voice sounded, she thought. How flat. How dead. How coldly angry. No, that couldn’t be right. But she’d never known until this moment that ‘interest’ was such a dismaying word.
‘The interest, of course, lies in deciding what she shall drink to,’ he continued. ‘To deceit, to treachery, to the poor fool taken in for the second time?’
‘What are you talking about?’
For answer he held up his glass sardonically. ‘I drink to you-Senora Alva.’
The old hated name could still make a cold hand clutch at her heart. And to it was added a nameless fear that he had chosen this moment to say such a thing.
‘Surely, I am Senora de Santiago now?’
‘To others, yes. But to me, you will always be Senora Roderigo Alva.’
His tone put her on her mettle, and she faced him. ‘In that case, it hardly seems worth your while to have married me.’
‘I married you because I had no choice. To have cancelled a second wedding within a few days would have given the gossips and the sneerers all they needed. Rather than endure that, I will endure the appearance of marriage to you.’
‘Cancel a second wedding?’ she echoed, bewildered. ‘But-why?’
‘Because Felipe Mayorez was my father’s closest friend,’ he said bleakly.
‘Felipe-Mayorez?’ she whispered.
‘You don’t even remember his name,’ Sebastian said scornfully.
But she did. Against her will it came shrieking out of the black night of things she didn’t dare look at. Felipe Mayorez, a kindly old man, who had surprised an intruder in his house one night, and been left bleeding on the floor.
‘He-was the man who-’
‘The man your husband half-killed, a man who has never been the same since. Since my childhood he visited our house many times and was a second father to me. And when I visit him and see him staring into space, trapped in his own head-alive and yet not alive-and when I think that I have shared a woman with the criminal who did that to him-
He slammed a hand down on the table, tormented by some violent emotion. Maggie watched him in horror.
‘You knew all this,’ she whispered. ‘As soon as you saw those papers-’
‘I couldn’t be sure. There might be two men of that name, but you told me he died in prison-’
‘You
‘Because our marriage had to go ahead,’ he responded harshly. ‘It was too late to change anything.’
‘You had no right to make that decision on your own,’ she cried. ‘It concerned me, too. Did you ever think that I might be as horrified by this discovery as you? Why do you think I changed my name back? Because I didn’t want to be the wife of Roderigo Alva. I’ve spent years trying to hide it even from myself, and now, every time I look at you, I’m going to remember. You should have warned me in time.’
‘It was already too late,’ he snapped.
‘Too late for you, not for me. Oh, God, how could this have happened?’
‘It happened because you concealed the truth about yourself,’ he grated. ‘If I’d known this months ago, I would never have employed you, never have let you near my household. For me, the mere name of Alva is horrible.’
‘For me, too, can’t you understand? I wanted to escape it.’
‘How convenient,’ he scoffed. ‘Felipe Mayorez can never escape it. He lives in a wheelchair, hardly able to move. Some days he can manage to whisper a few words. Some days not. He has nothing to look forward to but death. That’s right, turn away. Block your ears. Shut out the truth. If only he could do the same.’
‘I’m sorry for what happened to him, but it wasn’t my fault.’
‘So you say. And yet you tried to give your husband a false alibi.’
‘That’s not true,’ she said violently. ‘Roderigo wanted me to say he was with me that evening, but I denied it. That’s why-’
She stopped herself. She’d been going to say that was why she felt so bad about Roderigo’s fate. If she had told the lie he wanted, he might have lived. But she couldn’t say any of this to the harsh, judgmental man she’d married.
‘That’s why what?’
‘It doesn’t matter. You’ve made up your mind and nothing I could say will change it. Don’t judge me, Sebastian. You have no right. You don’t know the real truth.’
‘I know that my dear friend is a speechless cripple.’
‘And my husband is dead. There’s your revenge, if you want it.’
‘But you’re forgetting, I am your husband now.’
‘Heaven help us both,’ she whispered.
Suddenly she was seized by a burst of racking laughter. It convulsed her until she was almost sobbing.
‘What is it?’ Sebastian demanded.
‘I told Catalina that no woman in her senses would marry a Spaniard. I thought I’d learned my lesson. You’re not the only one who was duped a second time, Sebastian. Oh, dear God! I thought you were different. More fool me! No Spaniard is different. No
