Santa Fe Fortune & How to Marry a Matador

an annulment. She gingerly dangled a white silk thong from one finger, considering whether she should take it back out. That could depend entirely on what she anticipated might happen on this trip. Jess dug through her larger bag until she found several more skimpy undergarments, deciding to bring them along. Truth was, none of these items took up much space. One way or another, it was best to be prepared.

    Fernando steadied his arms around her and nestled her back against his chest as she gazed at the panorama. “So what do you think?” he whispered in her ear.
    “It’s stunning,” she said, still a bit breathless from the steep climb up the numerous ramps.
    They stood at the pinnacle of La Giralda, the original minaret from the old Moorish mosque that once stood in the place of Seville’s enormous cathedral. Rumor held that when the Catholics drove the Moors from Spain, they’d razed everything connected to Islam, save a few lovely relics they’d found too abundantly beautiful to destroy. There was the Alhambra Palace in Granada, the famed mosque in Córdoba, and this charming tower here, which the Catholics had bastardized by transforming the place once used for calling Muslims to prayer into a bell tower aimed at beckoning Catholics to mass.
    It was a warm and sunny afternoon, a comfortable glow settling over the ancient part of the city and the whitewashed former Jewish Quarter flanking La Giralda’s edge. All afternoon, they’d meandered cobblestoned streets, stopping here and there for a chilled white sherry or a pitcher of sangria, with small rations of snacks, or tapas , offered on the side. Fernando had checked them into a nice hotel with a lovely courtyard behind a wrought-iron gate, stating it was never wise to do business in Seville in the afternoon. Seeing a magistrate was best reserved for the severity of morning, before people had enjoyed their midday meal, a nice bottle of wine, and the accompanying siesta. With him being the local and all, and more familiar with the landscape, Jess had naturally decided to defer to his judgment. They clearly couldn’t have some magistrate mucking things up on account of a good Rioja.
    Fernando pointed out other landmarks around them, including the buildings of a more modern Seville across the waters of the Guadalquivir, and the remnants of an ancient maritime fortress situated on this side of its banks.
    “I thought tonight we’d take in a flamenco show,” he told her.
    “But we saw one of those in Madrid.”
    “Imposters!” he declared with a laugh. “Flamenco comes from the south. It’s a blend of historical regional dance influenced by our Moorish cousins. What you saw in Madrid is adequate but for the tourists. What I’ll take you to here, you’ll also see children dance in the streets, especially at Feria.”
    “Feria?”
    “It’s the big festival in the spring, connected to the sherry harvest. You’d love it, I think.”
    She gazed back at him over her shoulder, captivated by hypnotic green eyes.
    “There are lots of horses…” he tempted.
    “Why are you so sure I like horses?”
    “Because,” he said, giving her a little squeeze, “I’ve seen how you ride.”
    “Oh? How’s that?”
    “Like a woman who was born to the saddle,” he said, giving her neck a kiss.
    A group of school children had paraded onto the parapet. A couple pointed and giggled at Fernando’s public display of affection while their teacher scorched them with a disapproving glare.
    “Come on,” he said, breaking away and taking her hand. “Let’s go have a late lunch.”
    “And think about taking a siesta?” she asked hopefully.
    “Absolutely,” he said with a grin.

    Eve gawked as the cabbie pulled through the gate of the expansive hacienda.
    “Are you sure we’re in the right place?”
    “Casa Garcia de la Vega, sí. ”
    “Maybe we’ve got the wrong one.”
    “There’s only one family in town with that name.”
    He came to a halt at the height of the circular drive between a flowering rose garden and an imposing front door. For the first time since she’d book her Iberia flight, Eve felt a sense of panic. What if she’d done the wrong thing in coming here? What if these people were lunatics and stocked the place like a fortress with knives and guns? Even worse, what if they were terribly good people, high-bred and well-mannered, and Jess became furious at her for becoming involved? Eve swallowed hard and stepped from the cab, thinking