How to Marry a Matador (Exclusive Sneak Preview) (9 page)

“Maybe we should ask if you can borrow a
sweater?” he said, feigning misunderstanding. “Or maybe,” he said
in a low rumble meant just for her, “I can warm you up later.”

“Are you all right, Jessica?” Tía Margarita
asked, turning from where she’d just plunked her puppy on the
table. An elaborate spread was laid for tea, three high-backed
chairs facing the pastoral view. Jess watch in awe as Tía Margarita
poured and little Rudolfo eagerly thrust his nose into a cup. “You
appear a little flushed.”

“She was just saying that she’s cold.”

“Fernando!” Jess scolded under her
breath.

Tía Margarita wrinkled up her pudgy brow. “Oh
dear, that certainly won’t do. Antonia,” she said, instructing her
maid, who was setting the last plate of biscuits on the table.
“Please go and grab a wrap for our friend.”

Antonia disappeared deferentially as Tía
Margarita dipped a crumpet in the dog’s tea and then fed him tiny
nibbles. “Fernando,” she said to her grand-nephew, “why don’t you
show Jessica outside and into the sunshine?”

“She’s not related by blood,” he said with a
wink.

Jess hadn’t initially considered the
ramifications, but now that he’d mentioned it, maybe she was glad.
Not that having an eccentric old person in the family really
mattered most of the time. If they lived long enough, most folks
probably turned that way, even without trying.

“She was married to your uncle?”

“Great-uncle, that’s right.”

“At first, the family felt it a shame they
never had children. Then, after a while…” He shrugged and shot her
a wry smile. “Oh my, imagine that!” he said, leaning toward her and
fingering her hair.

“What is it?” she asked with alarm.

He gazed in her eyes in a way that brought
back tumbling meadows. “When your hair holds the sun, it looks like
gold.” He grinned and pulled something from his pocket. “And
gold…is of such beauty, it deserves to be prominently displayed.
Don’t you agree?”

Jess gasped in surprise as he held that
marvelous pair of earrings in her direction and lifted them up to
one ear. “Very nice,” he said with a satisfied smile. “They suit
you.”

He laid the pair in her palm, then watched
her expectantly, apparently hoping he’d gotten this right. Fernando
had more than gotten this right; in one deft move, he’d nearly
blown her away. Jess felt as if her heart might burst open and
tears spring from her eyes at the same time. Nobody had ever done
anything like this for her before.

“But how did you know?” she asked, her voice
hoarse with emotion.

“I have my sources at the monastery.” He
stepped closer.

A tear trickled down her cheek. “They’re
wonderful.”

“Then why are you crying?” he asked with a
worried frown.

“Because you really are a marvelous man.”
Before she knew what she was doing, Jess had wrapped her arms
around his neck and was up on her tiptoes, kissing him.

He pulled her close and returned her fire
with one glorious bout of passion after the next. Jess lost track
of time and culture and continent. All she knew was that she was
with her hunky matador man who brought her gifts of the heart. How
could he be so solid yet giving at once?

“Teatime!” Tía Margarita called, loudly
tinkling a bell.

Fernando released Jessica with a hearty
laugh.

“Terribly sorry, Tía Margarita,” he said,
obviously not meaning it.

Tía Margarita toddled toward the table,
waving her lace hanky in the air.

“Young people!” she said to Rudolfo, who was
making his way around the table, lapping at all the plates.

Jess slipped the leather bookmark from its
bag and placed it on the nightstand beside the old Bible. It had
been half her lifetime since she’d cracked the good book. Faith
really hadn’t gotten her anywhere, so she’d given it up as years
went by. Though there had been a time when she’d found some point
in it. As a hopeful teen, she’d spent hours poring over the same
passage in Corinthians, wistfully dreaming up what true love might
mean. She wondered if she could still find it. It couldn’t be that
difficult. Sort of like riding a bicycle, right?

The door creaked open, and Fernando stuck his
head in.

“Oh, sorry!” he said. “I thought you were
downstairs.”

After their return from town, Ana María had
spent quite a bit of time introducing her new daughter-in-law to
the contents of her hope chest. Fernando had begged off the moment
the baby fashion show had started. He likely felt guilty he’d let
things go so far but didn’t have the guts at that moment to rain on
his mom’s parade. Of course Jess could understand that. Ana María
had appeared so expressive and glowing, commenting on the joys of
impending grandchildren, that Jess hadn’t had the heart to break
the bad news either.

“Wait, are you reading the Bible?”

Jess stared down at the tome in her hand,
fretfully embarrassed. “Not really,” she said, snapping it shut.
“Just thinking of where to put the bookmark.”

“Genesis?” he retorted with one raised
eyebrow.

“The beginning, yes!” she said, nervously
fumbling through brittle pages. Locating Genesis shouldn’t be
that
difficult.
On the first day…
Thank God! She slid
the bookmark inside, then glanced heavenward, fearful she’d
committed some sort of mental blasphemy.

“I was just coming for my things,” Fernando
said. “All right if I grab a pillow?”

“What?” Jess asked weakly, almost wishing she
hadn’t started this God thing. Now she worried that the heavenly
angels were watching them. Maybe had been watching them all along.
She felt instantly consumed by heat, thinking the Catholicism was
getting to her.

“It’s nearly eleven. I thought I’d take what
I needed for bed.”

What about what
she
needed for bed?
That clearly wasn’t Fernando scooping up his things and waltzing
out of here. Not after today, not after that kiss.
Not after our
lovemaking this morning either,
she thought, quickly covering
the Bible with the monastery bag.

“Fernando,” she said as coolly as she could
manage. “Your mother just spent two hours expounding on the joys of
grandparenthood. Don’t you think it would seem odd for you to spend
the night downstairs?”

He brought his hand to his chin and, in all
seriousness, considered this. “You’re right,” he said, leveling a
gaze at her. “We pulled that last night. Doesn’t really seem right
to try it again.”

She shook her head in accord. “Not so soon,
anyway.”

“Then you won’t mind if I stay here?”

“We’re still married for now,” she said,
giving a little laugh.

Fernando suspiciously eyed the bag-covered
Bible. “In the eyes of the church.”

Jess mustered her best stern expression. “We
can’t go disappointing your mom.”

“She’s bound to be heartbroken soon enough,”
he agreed.

“So, we’re still going to Seville tomorrow?”
she asked a little sadly.

“That
is
what you want?”

His gaze locked on hers and was so
penetratingly hot she felt as if he’d stripped all her clothes off.
That
was
what she wanted, wasn’t it? To unmarry this
guy?

Fernando stepped into the room and locked the
door behind him.

“Yes,” she said uncertainly. “Yes, of
course.”

“Then, we’ll go to Seville,” he said,
unbuttoning his shirt. He let it slide from his broad shoulders as
he walked toward the bed with catlike stealth, every…single…muscle
under control. “In the morning.”

****

Fernando stretched out his arms for Jess in
the empty bed.
Gone? She can’t possibly be gone.
He opened
his eyes in a panic to spy her simple white shift still hanging in
the open armoire. Relief flooded him as he sent his attention to
the bathroom. The door was ajar, yet he heard nothing. Fernando sat
up and stared at the clock as five minutes ticked by. Then ten.
Something seemed amiss. “Jessica?” he called gently.
“
Querida
?”

Nothing.

Fernando rose from the bed and walked toward
the bath with purposeful strides, his heart pounding. Through the
crack in the door, he spied her curled up in a ball on the floor,
her arms crossed over her head.

“Jessica,” he said, kneeling by her.
“Darling, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t think I’m going to Seville,” came
the weak reply.

“Well, then, that settles it,” he said in an
attempt to reassure her. “I’m not going either.”

Her skin was as pale as her nightgown, and
she shivered slightly. On the simple throw rug on top of the cold
tile, she was bound to be freezing.

“Are you sick?” he asked with concern.

She nodded, shielding her eyes against the
light streaming in through the window.

“My stomach.”

Fernando thought of the caldo they’d had last
night in town as well as the vast array of
tapas.
None of it
had affected him. Then again, his stomach was made of steel.

“I’m calling a doctor,” he said,
decisively.

“No…don’t.”

“Jessica,” he stated reasonably. “You can’t
even get off the floor. If you have food poisoning, I think
that—”

“It wasn’t the food, Fernando,” she said,
glancing up at him all squinty-eyed. It pained him immensely to see
her this way. “I’m just not feeling well.”

“What can I get you?” he asked, believing
that no request could be too great.

“All I need is rest.”

She looked like her death, and he couldn’t
stand it. “It’s not good for you to be lying on the floor. Let me
help you back to the bed.” He laid his hand on her arm and found it
chilled. “Come on,” he pleaded sincerely, “please let me help
you.”

He held out his hands, and she accepted his
grip as he pulled her gently upright. “Here,” he said, steadying
her against his side as he sheltered her with one arm, “lean
against me. We’ll be there in no time.”

She clambered into bed and moaned as he
tucked her under the covers. Fernando felt utterly helpless. He’d
never seen Jessica so debilitated. The woman he knew was capable
and strong. To see her like this was crushing. “Has this happened
to you before?”

“I don’t get sick, Fernando,” she answered
defensively, even though her ailing tone gave her away. Just as she
didn’t fall in love, he pondered, recalling her earlier statement.
Here was a woman who allowed herself no weakness.

“You don’t always have to be strong with me,”
he said, sitting on his side of the bed. “None of us can be strong
always.”

“Not even matadors?” she asked.

“Not even matadors,” he assured her with a
tender smile. “We bruise as easily as telecommunications experts.
In some ways, maybe more. When you’re trained to be tough on the
outside, it’s hard to allow feelings in. Then when you do, I’m
afraid, they can hurt twice as much if they betray you.”

She didn’t answer but was quiet and listened.
Maybe being in bed was starting to help. He lay down next to her
and nestled her in his arms, spooning her back against his
chest.

“Is it all right if I hold you?” he asked
hoarsely, hoping she wouldn’t protest.

She snuggled back against him in response,
and he tightened his arms around her. As he did, his hand brushed
her cheek and found it damp. She was crying.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he said,
lightly kissing her shoulder. “Don’t worry,
querida
. Seville
will still be there tomorrow.”

That was precisely what broke her heart.
Seville wouldn’t just be there tomorrow. It would also be there the
day after, and the next. Sooner or later, Jess and Fernando would
go to Seville, meet with the magistrate, and clear up the
paperwork. Then, she’d be back to her ordinary life in America. The
one she’d grown accustomed to and which she’d once believed had
suited her so well. No one in her life who’d loved her had ever
stayed. And now here was someone who adored her, and she was
running away. She didn’t know why Fernando had become so taken with
her, but she now trusted in his sincerity when he said he had. Why
else would he be willing to let her go, unless that was what he
believed she needed for her own happiness?

Jess let the tears quietly fall as she
recalled tumbling meadows and the innocence of childhood. There’d
been a time when she’d believed in the beauty in this world and had
trusted in those who protected her not to hurt her. Jess honestly
wasn’t prone to illness and barely ever missed a day at work.
However, there’d been one time when she was fifteen that she hadn’t
been able to get out of bed for two weeks.

“Do you know what he said to me?” Jess said
softly.

“Who?” Fernando asked.

“My father, when he left.”

“No, what did he say?”

“He said…” She caught her breath but kept
crying, the tears pouring harder. “He said, ‘It’s good you’ve
learned love’s an illusion now. It will save you lots of heartache
in the future
.
’”

“Oh, Jessica. My dear Jessica… Your father
was wrong, so very wrong to say that.”

Her voice was a whimper now, her shoulders
lightly rocking with her sobs. “He left me and my mom and never
looked back. Not one card. Not one phone call. I don’t even know
where he went.”

Fernando tightened his grip around her,
desperately longing to keep her safe. Defended from her past and
protected from an uncertain future. He’d provide a future with
anything she wanted, if only she could give him her heart.

“Some men are like that,” he said with a
bitter edge to his voice. “And I’m sorry. Sorry on behalf of all of
them. But Jessica,” he said, hugging her to him. “You’ve got to
believe that not all of us are.”