Santa Fe Fortune & How to Marry a Matador

is sinking low,” he said. “I think it’s time we pack up and head in. I told my mother we’d be back by nightfall.”
    “I’m sorry,” Jess said past the tenderness in her throat.
    He leveled her with a gaze devoid of emotion. “Don’t be,” he said. “I’m not. Not sorry for anything.”
    He helped her up on her horse, then mounted his own.
    Fernando righted himself in his saddle.
    “The first thing on Tuesday,” he said without looking at her, “I’ll take you to Seville. Just as you wish, we’ll get this annulled.”

Chapter Five

    Ana María Garcia de la Vega pulled a tiny garment from the mahogany hope chest at the foot of her bed . The pure linen christening gown had been hand-embroidered by her grandmother and worn for generations. She gently strummed her fingertips across the daintily stitched white flowers adorning the piece’s bodice. When her daughter Margarita had worn it, Ana María hadn’t known she’d have no future children to dress in this little frock. She and her husband, Ernesto, had planned a large family. “Six children at least,” he’d said, the setting sun warming his eyes. He’d taken her in his arms and kissed her in a way that had melted her heart and weakened her knees. While her mother had warned her of the responsibilities of a honeymoon, she’d never imagined she’d enjoy taking to the task so much.
    When Ernesto died at forty-nine, Ana María had been just thirty-three. Fernando was eight and Margarita barely four. There was time for one or two more, at least. But time ran out on them far earlier than either of them intended. Ana María cast a sad gaze to the window, watching as dusk settled over the hacienda. She heard horses approaching from afar and knew it was Fernando and Jessica returning from their ride. Even if Jessica was experienced with horses, Fernando should have known better than to take the chance. Ana María held the small gown to her chest, realizing she’d never actually considered how it might feel to be a grandmother. Jessica certainly was beautiful, and, if she worked in Fernando’s business, obviously smart. But what of her family? Her background?
    The Garcia de la Vegas could trace their ancestry back seven generations—on both sides. Americans weren’t like that. Most of them were divorced and had no concept of family beyond the immediate. Even many of the closest relatives remained estranged, according to what Ana María had gathered from her perusal of the papers and study of American media. But if Fernando loved her… Ana María felt a lump in her throat. Who was she to deny true love, if this was real? Her parents hadn’t exactly been pleased she’d selected a matador as a groom. And yet they’d eventually come around, blessing them both with a lavish wedding and the gift of this ranch. Ana María had been raised here with her two brothers, neither of whom had survived to adulthood. Life was cruel that way, taking away the people you loved.
    Ana María wiped her brow with the back of her arm, scolding herself for becoming sentimental. Sentimentality was a weakness reserved for those able to afford it. She carefully folded the baptismal gown, tucking it back in its nest. Though she’d never weighed it concretely, she knew Fernando would make a marvelous father. There was a man who understood the value of family and stuck by them. He’d been so good to her and to his sister Margarita. Ana María couldn’t imagine him lavishing anything but undying affection on the woman he’d picked as his bride, and any offspring they produced.
    Ana María heard the heavy door swing shut downstairs and felt an instant wave of shame. Though she’d been cordial enough at lunch, she hadn’t precisely proved the welcoming mother-in-law . After all he’d done for her, who was she to doubt Fernando’s judgment? But…an American from Brooklyn! Ay. Ana María sighed heavily and closed the hope chest, securing it shut with its sculpted key. At least Fernando was moving forward, she supposed. Margarita, in her fancy flat in Barcelona, didn’t even have a boyfriend.

    Fernando entered the foyer and dropped his satchel with a petulant scowl, Jessica trailing in his wake.
    “Did you have a nice time?” Ana María asked as he breezed past her and headed for the study. Moments later, she heard the clattering of Waterford crystal and knew he was pouring himself a scotch from the family decanter. She and Jessica startled as the study door