Page 4 of Devoted to the Spanish Duke
“You must have known who he was!”
Maria shook her head. Until tonight, her only knowledge of the Duke of Tolosa was what she had been told by her parents and brother. “I have never met the man before. Other than not giving me his name, he didn’t actually do anything wrong. He even apologized for that oversight.”
Diego huffed. “Everything he did in coming near you was wrong. Maria, he is the enemy of our family!”
How many times had she heard the story of the century-old feud between the Aguirre and Elizondo clans? Maria was sure she could recite the whole thing word for word without pausing.
From the time she was able to understand, it had been instilled in her that the Duke of Tolosa was evil. In fact, anyone from the town of Tolosa was considered bad; even the priests were viewed with suspicion.
“I am well aware that Don de Aguirre is the devil incarnate. Should I have struck him with my fan? Would that have made you feel better?”
“Yes. You should have slapped his face with it,” replied Diego. A curt nod finally had Maria sighing with relief.
Diego. Always looking for a fight.“I am not in the habit of assaulting strange men who have done nothing more than make pleasant conversation,” she said.
Diego gave a tut of disapproval before offering Maria his arm. “Well, now that I have made my position clear, I think it best that you and I go back inside. We don’t want you catching a chill out here. And Padre will want you looking well-rested and fresh for tomorrow.”
It took all Maria’s strength not to roll her eyes. “Yes, of course. One wouldn’t want the meat looking anything but the most palatable for Don Delgado.”
Her brother had the good sense not to reply.
As they wandered back into the party, Maria had a sudden thirst for a large glass of Malaga—anything that would take her mind away from her encounter with Lisandro de Aguirre.
The instant she had set eyes on him, her whole body had reacted. As the lofty noble had made his way across the room toward her, Maria’s mouth had gone dry.
Right up to the moment he had given her his name she had been studying him with pleasured interest. He had experienced life outside the cloistered domain of Spanish nobility. He had seen something of the world. He had lived a life. Not to mention he was devilishly handsome.
Standing alone with him on the terrace, she had been captivated. His shoulder-length, dark hair, lightly oiled and swept back from his face, set her heart racing. And those lips, full of the promise of sensual kisses—she could just imagine what they would feel like on her skin.
Maria swallowed deep. Lisandro was no longer in sight, yet he still affected her whole being. Perhaps it was just because he would remain forever out of her reach that he was able to hold her interest. The aching hunger that had lingered long after he’d gone was surely only because she couldn’t have him.
Forbidden fruit.
Her mother had always said she was too passionate, unable to control her wicked nature. That someday it would cost her a great deal.
She caught the eye of a passing servant bearing a tray of drinks and beckoned him over. After selecting a glass of the sweet Spanish wine, Maria raised it to her lips, silently toasting her lack of fortune when it came to men.
But no matter how hard she tried; her thoughts continued to return to the Duke of Tolosa. The tall, dark and illicit Lisandro de Aguirre.
She itched to run the back of her hand along his sexy stubbled face, then trace a soft line over the exquisite dimple on his chin. Maria shivered at the prospect of beingthatclose to him.
A soft chuckle escaped her lips. She would never get the opportunity to do any of those things. There was every chance that she wouldn’t ever set eyes on the Duke of Tolosa again. And if that wasn’t a crying shame, Maria de Elizondo Garza didn’t know what one was.
Chapter Two
The following morning, Maria was seated at a small balcony table in the villa her family had hired. Her home was thirteen miles away —too far to travel in one day for a night of wedding celebrations.
While finishing the last of her breakfast, she gazed lazily out over the Cantabrian Sea. Various fishing boats bobbed up and down on the dark blue waves while gulls cried overhead. It was the perfect coastal picture.
The only thing spoiling the moment was the presence of her brother, Diego, and his continued griping over the events of the previous evening. Maria had long given up staring daggers at him, but still held out some hope that he might take the hint and shut up about the Duke of Tolosa.
“The nerve of that man. He must have known who you were. I should have called him out and demanded satisfaction.”
Maria took a long, deep sip of her hotcafé con leche, she hoped that soon the coffee would be enough to take her mind off her brother’s insistent complaining.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t.
“You can’t fight a duel; the Pope has forbidden them. And it was a wedding celebration, so I hardly think King Ferdinand would have taken kindly to the knowledge that someone might have died on his happy day,” she replied.
