Read Online At the Spanish Duke's Command by Fiona Hood-Stewart - Free Book Online

narrowing.
    â€œYes. But in actual fact she’s right. You’re going to need a hostess to entertain—someone who can be next to you when you need her. Not a woman rushing off to advise at university sit-ins and student gatherings. I even took part in a protest the other day. Can’t you just see the headlines? ‘The Duquesa de la Caniza marches’ et cetera, et cetera…No, Juan.” She shook her head and smiled sadly. “I’m afraid I have to make a choice.”
    â€œAnd you don’t want to make it any sooner than necessary, sí ? Is that it?” he asked quietly, playing with the bracelet on her right wrist.
    She nodded reluctantly.
    â€œI see.” He withdrew his hand and pricked at a piece of omelette with a toothpick. “Then we’ll just stick to our original plan, querida . How about some lunch?”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    I T WAS wonderful to drive out of the city.
    Sitting in the back of the mini-van between Greg the Canadian and Lucy, a pretty Australian brunette, who’d decided to join them at the last minute, Georgiana stared out of the window at the flat brown countryside rolling on and on into the distance. It reminded her of Don Quixote of La Mancha and his windmills—of which, she noted as they headed south, there were a few.
    The other students were in good form. Everyone was happy to be spending a long weekend away, glad to discover more of this fascinating country.
    After a while Georgiana fell asleep. But her dreams were fraught with images of Juan, of his magical hands coursing over her body, awakening her senses.
    All at once the mini-van jolted to a stop.
    â€œHey, Sleeping Beauty, wake up!” Sven gave Georgiana an affectionate shake and she smiled sleepily. She followed the others and entered a roadside tasca . Outside the low whitewashed building, bottles of wine hung in straw canisters. Inside the dark beamed tasca , they headed to the bar. In the corner several men sat drinking wine and beer, their eyes glued to a large television set showing a soccer game. There were occasional shouts of enthusiasm and loud exchanges when the favourite team pushed ahead.
    Georgiana sat next to Sven at the bar and ordered vino con gaseosa —a delicious combination of red wine andfizzy clear lemonade that she’d grown to like—from the portly barman poised proudly beneath an impressive array of Serrano hams hanging from the ceiling beams. They ordered some, and he sharpened a lethal-looking knife, then sliced the ham with artistic expertise.
    â€œI’m so glad you came,” Sven said, pulling his bar stool closer to hers. “I hadn’t seen you for a couple of days. Everything okay? You look a bit tired. You’ve lost weight,” he added observantly.
    â€œFine. Just had a bit of a cold, that’s all.”
    â€œGoing south will do you good,” he said, his handsome broad smile lighting up his good-looking features. “Some time you must come and visit Sweden. It’s also a beautiful country.”
    â€œI’m sure.” How could she tell Sven that Sweden was the last thing on her mind right now? Rather, she was wondering desperately where Juan was and what he was doing. Suddenly Andalusia seemed a long way away, and she sighed.
    The kids were all laughing and joking and having fun. The last thing she wanted was to be a party-pooper. But somehow it seemed dreadfully juvenile. Had she become so blasé that she couldn’t appreciate her peers any longer? Damn Juan and the windows he’d opened! She was darned if she’d allow him to monopolise her existence. She’d come on this trip because of him, hadn’t she? And Sven was a sweetie. Just the kind of boy she should be going out with.
    Making a superhuman effort, Georgiana concentrated on her surroundings and told herself to jolly well forget the Duque de la Caniza and enjoy herself.
    That was what she’d come for, wasn’t