Read Online Miss Burton Unmasks a Prince by Jennifer Moore - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jennifer Moore
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even as he maintained the ruse necessary for them to remain so comfortable with one another. “He is one of the only companions that accompanied me from Spain.”
“Do you miss Spain?”
Rodrigo’s throat tightened. He missed his homeland so much that at times it was painful. “Nearly every moment,” he said.
“I am sorry.”
He turned toward her and tried to muster a smile. “But today for the first time in months, I have had something else to occupy my mind, and for that I must thank you.”
Meg regarded him thoughtfully, and he wondered how much of his frustration was evident in his expression. “Is it painful to speak of your home? I would love to know more about Spain.”
“What would you like to know?”
Meg tipped her head, as if she were thinking. “Have you ever seen a bullfight?”
“Yes. Of course.” Unsurprisingly her mind had jumped to that exhibition. Her fascination with the sensational was utterly enchanting. And she wasn’t the kind of lady to behave squeamishly as so many British women did when he discussed the violent performance—or its gruesome end.
She looked at him expectantly, obviously waiting for him to tell her more.
“Margarita, la corrida de toros , it is—”
Meg shook her head and let out a groan. “Please don’t say it is not appropriate for a young lady or I might scream.”
The look on her face saddened him as he wondered how often Meg had been discouraged from learning or trying new things. “I was going to say, la corrida de toros , it is something you would love.”
“Truly?” Her face brightened.
“ Sí . It is very sensational. The toreadors, they are masters who have trained for years. The bullfighter learns the quirks of the bulls as he confronts the animal with his capote and maneuvers out of reach of the animal’s horns, at times coming within inches of being gored.” He demonstrated with his hands the swish of the cape and the near miss of the bulls’ horns.
Meg watched, enraptured by his description. “The entire performance is filled with pageantry, costumes, a parade, and music; but mostly it is the tradition that makes it special. The tradition of festival , of celebration.”
“Tell me more. What else happens at festival ?” Meg’s eyes were alight with excitement, and he loved that his words had been the cause.
“Of course, no gathering would be complete without a feast, and Spaniards love to eat. Supper is much more informal than it is in England, often lasting late into the night. And the food is delicious. Pastries, fish, chicken stew, fresh fruit. And delicious desserts I have yet to see in England. I particularly love turrón. ”
“It all sounds wonderful. I would love to travel to Spain.” The light in her eyes dimmed, and Meg’s expression changed to wistful.
Rodrigo thought there was nothing he would like better than to watch the delight on Meg’s face as she experienced festival for the first time.
Then the truth spread like a shadow over his mood. There was no festival . Spain was in turmoil. His countrymen were dying and their livelihoods torn away. Even when this war ended, would the country he loved ever recover?
They reached a stream, and Rodrigo dismounted then moved to Bonnie’s side to assist Meg. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned into him as he lifted her down from the saddle. When he moved to back away, Meg reached out a hand to touch his arm.
“I didn’t mean to make you more homesick.”
He looked down at her caramel-colored eyes, aware of how close they stood to one another. He had not thought it possible for a person’s expression to touch him so deeply. “You did not. I simply allowed my mind to wander. I apologize.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
“I imagine you do.”
They led the horses to the stream and allowed them to drink. Rodrigo worried that he had cast a pall over their outing and tried to think of a way to bring Meg’s smile back. “Tell me about Charleston.
“Do you miss Spain?”
Rodrigo’s throat tightened. He missed his homeland so much that at times it was painful. “Nearly every moment,” he said.
“I am sorry.”
He turned toward her and tried to muster a smile. “But today for the first time in months, I have had something else to occupy my mind, and for that I must thank you.”
Meg regarded him thoughtfully, and he wondered how much of his frustration was evident in his expression. “Is it painful to speak of your home? I would love to know more about Spain.”
“What would you like to know?”
Meg tipped her head, as if she were thinking. “Have you ever seen a bullfight?”
“Yes. Of course.” Unsurprisingly her mind had jumped to that exhibition. Her fascination with the sensational was utterly enchanting. And she wasn’t the kind of lady to behave squeamishly as so many British women did when he discussed the violent performance—or its gruesome end.
She looked at him expectantly, obviously waiting for him to tell her more.
“Margarita, la corrida de toros , it is—”
Meg shook her head and let out a groan. “Please don’t say it is not appropriate for a young lady or I might scream.”
The look on her face saddened him as he wondered how often Meg had been discouraged from learning or trying new things. “I was going to say, la corrida de toros , it is something you would love.”
“Truly?” Her face brightened.
“ Sí . It is very sensational. The toreadors, they are masters who have trained for years. The bullfighter learns the quirks of the bulls as he confronts the animal with his capote and maneuvers out of reach of the animal’s horns, at times coming within inches of being gored.” He demonstrated with his hands the swish of the cape and the near miss of the bulls’ horns.
Meg watched, enraptured by his description. “The entire performance is filled with pageantry, costumes, a parade, and music; but mostly it is the tradition that makes it special. The tradition of festival , of celebration.”
“Tell me more. What else happens at festival ?” Meg’s eyes were alight with excitement, and he loved that his words had been the cause.
“Of course, no gathering would be complete without a feast, and Spaniards love to eat. Supper is much more informal than it is in England, often lasting late into the night. And the food is delicious. Pastries, fish, chicken stew, fresh fruit. And delicious desserts I have yet to see in England. I particularly love turrón. ”
“It all sounds wonderful. I would love to travel to Spain.” The light in her eyes dimmed, and Meg’s expression changed to wistful.
Rodrigo thought there was nothing he would like better than to watch the delight on Meg’s face as she experienced festival for the first time.
Then the truth spread like a shadow over his mood. There was no festival . Spain was in turmoil. His countrymen were dying and their livelihoods torn away. Even when this war ended, would the country he loved ever recover?
They reached a stream, and Rodrigo dismounted then moved to Bonnie’s side to assist Meg. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned into him as he lifted her down from the saddle. When he moved to back away, Meg reached out a hand to touch his arm.
“I didn’t mean to make you more homesick.”
He looked down at her caramel-colored eyes, aware of how close they stood to one another. He had not thought it possible for a person’s expression to touch him so deeply. “You did not. I simply allowed my mind to wander. I apologize.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
“I imagine you do.”
They led the horses to the stream and allowed them to drink. Rodrigo worried that he had cast a pall over their outing and tried to think of a way to bring Meg’s smile back. “Tell me about Charleston.
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