The Infamous Miss Rodriguez: A Ciudad Real Novella (12 page)

* * *

G
raciela slid
into the back seat of the motorcar and waited for Vicente to enter from the other side before asking Aunt Elba’s driver to take them home to the Europa. Aunt Elba herself had remained in the store, no doubt still bullying the contingent of store owners and exporters who had attended the event to increase their orders of
Graciela
.

Graciela had always known she was a hard worker, but it had taken these three months to show her just how tireless Aunt Elba really was.

La Parisienne
wasn’t at all far from the Hotel Europa, but at that time of night, the avenue was crowded with motorcars and pedestrians as the theaters and restaurants emptied. The Packard proceeded at a good pace for a few meters, then slowed as it got stuck in the snarl of traffic in front of the opera house.

It was so stifling inside despite the cranked-down windows that Graciela wished they had walked. Though it seemed to be just as hot out on the street—the palms that lined
Avenida de las Palmas
were as stiff as paintings and just down the street there was a girl being fanned by a swarm of solicitous admirers. To Graciela, she looked more put-out at having her hair disheveled by their overenthusiastic fanning than in danger of fainting from the heat, but the boys ignored her protests and flapped their handkerchiefs and programs in her face until she was rescued by an observant friend.

Graciela smiled and turned to see if Vicente was looking.

He was staring straight ahead, as if he could see the street through the back of the driver’s head. In the light that came in through the open window, she could see the strong curve of his jaw, which earlier that day had been scraped clean by one of the best barbers in Ciudad Real.

Her amusement faded.

“What time does the steamer leave tomorrow?” His gaze met hers and she found she had to clear her throat to keep her voice steady. “I hope we’ll have time to visit the bank in the morning. Unless you’d rather I wire the funds directly to New York.”

“Funds?”

“Your remuneration. For—for fulfilling your end of our arrangement.”

“I don’t want it,” he said. “Not a cent of it. All I want—” He broke off, swearing under his breath. Then he turned towards Graciela, his gaze burning into her. “All I want is to know whether you meant it when you told Medina you loved me.”

Her throat was tight. She had to look away to avoid shedding any incriminating tears. “It doesn’t matter if I did or not. You’re leaving tomorrow.”

“But I’m not.” A touch on her arm made her turn back. “Your aunt made me another offer tonight and I decided to accept it—that is, if you want me to. Do you want me to stay, Graciela?”

“Yes, I do,” she said, with a vehemence that surprised even her. Forgetting about the chauffeur in the front seat, she reached for Vicente’s hand and grasped it tight in her own. “I want you so much it
hurts
. I’ve wanted you ever since I met you and I’ve wanted for you to realize it for
weeks—
”

He didn’t let her finish. In a second, he had closed the distance between them and was beside her, gathering her into his arms and crushing his lips against hers.

“I want to stay,” he said, his face close enough to hers that she could feel his breath on her lips. She lifted a hand to his jaw and rubbed her fingers over the stubble there. “I want to stay in your bed and in your life until we’re gray and old and withered. I want to help you and Elba with the business. And Graciela—I want to be with you when you dance in bawdy theaters or attend poker games at gambling halls or splash naked in fountains.”

Graciela let out a laugh. “That last one sounds very appealing.”

“I can’t imagine a life where I’m not by your side, sharing every one of those preposterous, scandalous, wildly inappropriate moments with you.”

She pulled away just enough to be able to look into his eyes. There he was, the man she’d caught glimpses of, the one who bought her roasted peanuts and helped her plot mischief. Reaching up to smooth a wayward strand of sandy hair, she said, teasingly because she was too choked up to be serious, “I’ve still got my list if you want to look it over. We can think of new things to add to it. Together.”

His smile came swiftly. “Together,” he agreed.

Then he pulled her to him again and Graciela was lost to the heady sensation of being touched by the one man she wanted touching her. He had removed his gloves and the inches of skin between her elbow-length gloves and the tiny beaded sleeves of her gown felt like they would burst into flame as his hands passed over them. He caressed her shoulders, her neck, and wherever his hands went, his lips followed.

Her own hands were just as bold. Her fingers threaded through his silky sandy hair, brushing the curve of his ear, sliding under his collar to touch the back of his neck, where they twined together and held him close as his mouth returned, again and again, to her lips.

The motorcar must have begun to move again but Graciela didn’t notice until it had coasted to a stop in front of the Hotel Europa and a liveried bellhop was opening her door. She pulled away from Vicente, ignoring the bellhop’s confused apology and adverted gaze, and smiled at her husband. Her hair must have been in mad disorder and she suspected her gown to be in a similar state but if he objected to the dishevelment, he didn’t say a word, only smiled back.

She wanted to kiss him again, but the bellhop was still waiting. “Well, Mr. Aguirre, it looks like we’re home.”

Vicente didn’t move from the seat. Her hand was in his, and he was caressing her ring with his thumb. “I’ve never had a home before,” he confessed in a low voice. “I never thought I would.”

“You have one now,” she said fiercely. She squeezed his hand. “And I mean that you should always have one with me—if you want it. So, Mr. Aguirre. Will you come home with me?”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he said, and brought their linked hands to his lips before following her inside.

A
Summer
for Scandal

A Season for Wishes