Santa Fe Fortune & How to Marry a Matador

Rudolfo couldn’t take much, eh?”
    “Why don’t we all go inside?” Fernando suggested, seeing the townspeople in the plaza were starting to stare.
    “Of course,” Tía Margarita said with a smile, linking her arm through his.
    As Antonia flanked Jessica on the other side, he could have sworn he heard her asking if Jessica was familiar with the Stairmaster.

    Jess couldn’t guess how high the ceilings were. They were vaulted and tall, like the inside of a cathedral, enormous chandeliers dripping throughout the halls. There were oversized, arched windows too, interspersed by large oil paintings and various works of art. It was more like being in a museum than a mansion. Not that she’d ever been in a mansion before. But galleries, she knew. Though those clearly housed less furniture. Everything was larger than life, huge carved pieces with mirrors surprising her around every turn. It certainly smelled musty and was dank as well. She was glad Fernando still had his arm around her, because the dankness seeped into her bones even at the height of summer.
    “Having fun, querida ?” he whispered into her ear, and she shivered, not from the cold but from the heat of his breath.
    The truth was, she was having more than fun. Jess felt like she’d slipped down the rabbit hole into some imaginary realm and was enjoying the time of her life. Wait until she told Evie! Jess felt a rush of guilt, thinking of her best friend. She didn’t know why, so she pushed the notion aside, attempting to live in the moment. She’d already committed herself to this day with Fernando, anyway, hadn’t she?
    “This is so cool,” she said, eyes widening as they stepped into an expansive area opening onto a walled veranda.
    “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