Page 2 of Devoted to the Spanish Duke
Finally, he reached her side and dipped into a low bow.
She gave him a soft but clearly practiced smile. Lisandro stifled a grin. Someone had trained her well in the art of the subtle flirt. Of showing a hint of interest but nothing more. Women kept their reputations carefully guarded in this part of the world.
“Buenas tardes, señorita,” he said.
“Is it? I am not so certain. Considering that you, a perfect stranger, have been staring at me for the past while and have now followed me outside away from the other guests, I do have to question whether you are sincere in wishing me a good evening. Or is that just your usual opening line for women?” she replied.
Oh yes, you have been well taught. Under other circumstances, you and I could have a spot of delightful fun. Such a pity.
He chanced a look at her hands, grateful that the weather made it too hot to wear formal gloves. A white fan was held fast to her wrist with a piece of matching ribbon. Around her neck was a thick gold chain upon which hung a Santiago medallion. On her long, slim fingers there was no sign of a wedding or betrothal ring.
An unmarried beauty.
Whoever this vision of loveliness was, it seemed no one had yet laid claim to her.Interesting.
“You have me all wrong. I wish nothing but the best for you,” he replied.
She looked him up and down, the soft smile on her lips informing him that she was pleased with what she saw.
“Are you enjoying this evening?” he asked.
She shrugged. “It is as I expected. A party full of people discussing politics and gossiping about one another. Most people are just here to be seen.”
Lisandro raised an eyebrow at her words. It was unusual to find a young woman of quality who didn’t enjoy major social events. It spoke of a mind that found interest in more substantial matters. “I thought all the young señoritas would be excited about this evening. It is not every day that the king takes a new bride,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed. Her easygoing demeanor changing to one of guarded wariness. He was probing, seeking to discover what she really thought of the king. Did she see him as a tyrant too?
“Well, of course I was excited about tonight. All loyal subjects wish happiness for His Catholic Majesty. But the rooms of Narros Palace are stifling and crowded. That was all I meant,” she replied.
Wise words. Never let anyone know what you truly think of the king unless you fully support him.
Lisandro came and stood beside the young woman; his gaze focused on the night sea. At the edge of the water, he could make out the line of white foam from the waves. He loved the ocean—it was a pity that his family home at Tolosa was some sixteen miles inland and these days, he rarely made the journey north to the coastal town of Zarautz.
“Don’t you just love the smell of sea salt in the air?” she asked.
Lisandro chuckled. This girl was truly unlike most other women he had met. She was, like the air, a refreshing change.Beautiful, intelligent, and interesting. What an enticing combination.
“I must admit, I do find the ocean breeze does wonders for my soul. When I am out sailing in the deep blue, I find it exhilarating,” he replied.
“Have you travelled far from Spain?” she asked, interest evident in her voice.
He turned to face her. “Yes. Many times. I have ventured as far north as Denmark, but my travels have mostly taken me to England and occasionally France.”
She glanced at him. “I would love to see another land. To experience different people and their cultures.”
“Well, I hope you do. Some of my closest friends live in England, and I would never have met them if I hadn’t travelled,” he replied.
He received a soft smile in return for his words of encouragement. A spark lit in his brain. There was a kindness about her, a warmth that had Lisandro suddenly imagining himself wrapping her up in his arms and taking her home—to meet his mother.
Who are you? I must get to know you better.
Heavy footsteps sounded on the stone paving behind them. The woman stepped away from Lisandro. Her gaze fell on whomever was approaching and her smile instantly disappeared.
Lisandro turned and all sense of gaiety fled.
Storming toward them, hands balled tightly by his side, was Diego de Elizondo Garza, the son of his family’s enemy.
Mierda. Can’t you see I am trying to work my charms on this young woman?
