The Girl That Love Forgot

Beneath the night sky, she looked at him. She didn’t push. She just waited, her gray eyes glowing with trust and love. He stroked her cheek, tilting her head back beneath the dark canopy of stars. Her sweet, innocent, beautiful face held such love and promise that it brought tears to his eyes. He loved her more than life. He never wanted to be without her …

“Marry me,” he said.

Her lips parted. She looked up, searching his face.

“Marry me,” he demanded, more forcefully. With a choked gasp, she threw her arms around his neck.

“Yes,” she said. “Oh, yes.” Pulling away from him, she vowed, “I will cancel my assignment in Argentina. I will cancel everything. I never want to leave you again.”

But he frowned, furrowing his brow. “But photography is your passion.”

She pressed her cheek against his chest. “Fou are my passion.”

He stroked her hair softly, his heart aching with love. But he could not allow her to make the sacrifice. Looking down at her, he took a deep breath. “I will come with you.”

She looked up in shock. “But I’ll be away for a month.”

“So?”

She shook her head, tears in her eyes. “I can’t ask you to leave your home!”

“Oh, Annabelle.” Holding her face in his hands, Stefano looked down at her with adoration. “Don’t you understand? It’s you, querida.” With a low laugh, he shook his head.

“You. you are my home.”

A month later, flying first class back from Buenos Aires to London, Annabelle was so nervous that she could barely hold still in the white leather seat.

“Champagne, Señora Cortez?” the flight attendant asked, holding out a silver tray.

Señora Cortez. She and Stefano had married in a simple ceremony at Santo Castillo, the day after she’d turned in her photo essay to Equestrian magazine. When the magazine’s editors had seen her pictures, they’d instantly forgiven her for missing the polo match and gala. They’d retitled the cover story to Stud Ranch Wedding: Stefano Cortez Elopes with Equestrian Photographer in Whirlwind Affair. The publishers had already ordered a double printing as they expected the gossipy exclusive to be their best-selling edition ever.

Fortunately, Annabelle and Stefano had left it all behind, spending the past few weeks in Tierra del Fuego and Patagonia. Had it already been a month since she became Mrs.

Cortez? Annabelle’s new name still sounded like music to her. But Annabelle shook her head at the flight attendant’s question, refusing the champagne.

“Sí, gracias,” her husband said beside her, and took a sip from the flute before leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. Her husband. Looking at him still made Annabelle flutter inside—as did the memory of the lavish four days they’d spent at a luxury hotel in Buenos Aires for a belated honeymoon.

Annabelle shivered. They would have to go back to Buenos Aires sometime and actually remember to leave their hotel suite. All she’d seen of the city had been from their veranda at midnight, when she’d gone out to see the twinkling lights and feel the cool breezes of the Rio de la Plata against her skin. But even then, she’d been swiftly distracted when her new husband followed her on the veranda wearing only a robe. He’d kissed her passionately in the darkness and, well, one thing had led to another….

She blushed. Stefano was an amazing lover. And even more—an amazing partner.

He’d worked well as her assistant as she’d photographed the Pampas, and seeing his innocent wonderment over the beautiful landscape had given her such pleasure. Though hardly an equal recompense to the pleasure he gave her at night.

Annabelle’s smile spread to a grin. She would accept fewer photography jobs from now on, taking only the truly fascinating assignments. She craved time nesting at Santo Castillo. She was even, at this moment, feeling the strange urge to learn how to sew and bake.

Her old assistant, Marie Thompson, had sent flowers to the Buenos Aires hotel yesterday when she’d heard of their marriage. Annabelle had immediately telephoned her in Cornwall for a nice chat. Just six weeks ago, she’d envied Marie for being loved by an adoring husband. Now she knew what that felt like.

And she would soon know something else Marie had experienced, as well …

Annabelle’s legs bounced with nervous energy as she glanced out the airplane window.

She looked down at the scattered, wispy clouds over the green continent of South America beneath them. She tried to gather her thoughts, but her heart was soaring higher than the plane.

Stefano stopped the bounce of her legs by putting his hand on her knee. “Are you really so nervous?” he murmured, smiling. “Just by the thought of going back to Wolfe Manor?”

“I am excited to see my brothers again,” she admitted. “We haven’t all been home together for almost twenty years. I can’t wait to see how Jacob has fixed up Wolfe Manor.

And tell them all the news.”