Santa Fe Fortune & How to Marry a Matador

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.”

Chapter Eight

    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