CHAPTER FOUR

Alyssa sat at the vanity table giving her makeup its finishing touches. That completed, she carefully eyed her reflection, looking for anything in her face that might announce the difference. She felt there was a difference, whether she could see it or not. Putting a definition to that difference, however, was easier said than done.

Love? Was that this mysterious something? She had thought that thought before, during the last forty-eight hours, and she had rejected it as out of hand. Although she did, likewise, at this moment of inner reflection, find it was hard to deny. Certainly, the suspicion remained.

Perhaps, it would have been easier had she ever been in love before. Then, she would have had a basis for comparison. But she’d never loved. Not really. Anyway, not in quite the same way she kept coming back to thinking she might be in love now. Oh, she loved her mother, and she loved the memory of her father (although there was really no genuine memories of Donald Dunlap).

What about Ty? Surely, she wouldn’t have become engaged to a man she hadn’t loved. On the other hand, she had sensed from the beginning of that relationship that there had been something missing in it. Else why had she broken off the engagement and fled all the way to Spain to think things over?

She could admit that it hadn’t been love she felt for Ty; yet, it was difficult to admit there was even the possibility she was feeling love for Adriano Montego. Adriano was still a stranger, even if he had been in the house for almost a week. How was it possible for her to be in love with a man who had entered her life so recently and under such unusual circumstances?

“You are imagining things, Alyssa,” she told herself, running a finger along her right cheekbone to disturb a bit of makeup that had been perfect as it stood. “Love at first sight isn’t something that really happens, no matter how many times you read about it, no matter how many times it’s portrayed as reality in the movies. Certainly, it isn’t conjured by a few kisses.”

“And, there had been a few. Not just the one stolen after their supper together a few nights back, either. Last night in the garden smelling of flowers, he had kissed her again…and again…and again. What’s more, she had wanted him to kiss her, had wanted him to continue.

She ran the fingers of her right hand through her mane of blonde hair and shivered slightly at the remembrance of just how it had been to have Adriano’s lips working against her own. Adriano’s tongue.…

She scooted back the bench and came to her feet, telling herself she had to get hold, or she was going to make a fool of herself.

She was affected by the fairy-tale quality of the whole incident: Alyssa Dunlap in Spain; a wounded man on her doorstep; a couple of candle-light dinners; a walk in the garden; a few kisses. It all added up to an interlude, albeit pleasant, but an interlude, nevertheless. The idea that Adriano felt any more toward her than he would have for any other woman under similar circumstances was doubtful, no matter what he might have insinuated otherwise.

She decided she had to look at all of this in the sophisticated perspective with which Adriano was obviously expecting her to view it. People born to money were always seeking new amusements with new people. If she had been left out of the whirl up until now, that merely meant she was the exception to the rule. The best thing she could do for herself was to realize that Adriano and she were embarked upon a harmless flirtation. To hold it up as anything more than that was liable to cause a series of unpleasant scenes and hurt feelings when it all began to grind to a halt. And it would eventually grind to a halt, wouldn’t it? Still, it would have been nice if it all.…

She was thankful when the knock on the door kept her mind from flying off on another track of pure wishful thinking.

“Yes?”

Mara opened the door.

“Señor Montego is waiting downstairs,” Mara said.

“Tell him I’ll be down shortly.” Alyssa reached for a light sweater. Although the days remained uncomfortably hot, the evenings often still, somehow, managed a slight chill; she wasn’t really sure how long this soiree at Joaquín’s hacienda was going to last, but there was a good chance she would be returning to her own ranch well after nightfall.

She left her bedroom, following the same path Mara had taken before her.

Adriano was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, wearing the same kind of suit she always saw Spanish men wearing in movies: an Andalusian cowboy costume, complete with short jacket, flat-brimmed hat, and spurs. Mostly in black, he looked very handsome. Alyssa was on the verge of telling him so when he beat her to the punch with a compliment of his own.

“You’re looking exceptionally beautiful, Señorita Dunlap.” He smiled. His white teeth and tan went well with the dark material of his clothing.

“Keep up the flattery,” she said, feeling in exceptional spirits. Her good humor was, in part, due to his continued cheerful attitude. She had been a little uneasy about the proposed outing at the hacienda of Joaquín Hidalgo, because it revolved around the visit of the young matador, Fanuco de Galena, and Alyssa knew that Adriano wasn’t overly fond of the corrida. Yet, if he was uneasy about the day ahead of them, he wasn’t giving any visible indication.

“It wasn’t flattery, by the way,” he said, leading her to the door and opening it.

“Quit while you’re ahead,” she said with a laugh that couldn’t hide the fact she enjoyed the compliments, no matter what she said.

They drove to the Hacienda Hidalgo in one of the sports cars that was stored in the garage.

“We could have gone on horseback,” Adriano said, and grinned amusement. “But if you haven’t ridden for awhile, you might have arrived a little too sore to enjoy the festivities.”

“Yes, I did notice that your last ride over the distance was a bit hazardous to your health,” she said, unable to keep from making a reference to his battered condition upon arrival at the barn. At the present, there was little indication of his beating except for the lingering line of scab on his lower lip.

“I like a woman with a sense of humor.”

“And, I like a man with one, too,” she said. “If I were you, though, I’m not too sure I would be so easy to forgive and forget, if.…”

She had been on the point of saying, “…you were, indeed, as innocent as you proclaimed.” She didn’t say that, however, because she didn’t want to get into a discussion, especially with him, especially now, as to whether she actually still thought him guilty of killing her bulls. She still felt an inviolate owner-employee responsibility to her ranch hands whom had acted—although spontaneously—to protect her interests.

She was afraid Adriano would immediately pick up on her dangling sentence, so she pointed off into the distance toward a group of trees with trunks gone bright orange to a height of nine or ten feet.

“Cork trees,” Adriano informed, apparently willing to let the question of his guilt or innocence not, once again, become a subject of discussion. “The estate has several cork forests. The orange coloring merely means the bark was stripped only a few days ago. After awhile, the orange will go russet, then brown, and finally back to its original gray.”

Alyssa only vaguely remembered that legal documents had listed cork as one of the products of her ranch. She had been extremely lax in researching just how a person ran a ranchero of this magnitude. She had procrastinated mainly because she hadn’t been all that certain she was going to retain ownership. The stripped bark, though, seemed to indicate that things had not ground to a complete stop while the captain was elsewhere than firmly positioned at the helm. She couldn’t help feeling a little guilty that she had arrived on the scene quite as ignorant as she was. But, then, it was only now beginning to dawn on her just how much Lalo Montego had turned over to her keeping.

“I really know nothing of bulls, even less about harvesting cork,” she admitted, more to herself than to him.

“Luckily, the people in your employ do know about bulls and cork,” he said. “You need merely search them out and express a genuine interest to learn, and they’ll be more than happy to teach you all they can.”

“Even though I’m a woman?”

“Yes, even though you’re a woman. They won’t be as biased against you as you might initially imagine. For one, you’re an American woman, not Spanish. Few Spaniards, at least those who have worked for my father, can any longer be considered backward enough to imagine an American señorita to be the same cloistered female as many of her Spanish counterparts. For two, my father put his stamp of approval on you when he left you the ranch.” If any bitterness existed, it didn’t come through in his voice. He had merely made an apparent simple statement of fact. “And the people on this ranch owe Lalo Montego a lot. So much, as a matter of fact, that they’re not about to question his choice of a successor. Any indication of a permanent owner in residence is going to be welcome. Nothing operates as efficiently as it should without its head—even a ranch like this one.”

“Well, that’s encouraging,” she admitted, wondering if he were only trying to make her feel a bit more confident in a role in which she hadn’t yet become confident.

“Besides, as you will soon see, many Spanish women are no longer the sheltered, meek, and mild ladies they have for so long been painted to be by the outside world. Money has, indeed, seemed to have liberated a good many of them. Ladonna Hidalgo, for instance, is a truly liberated woman. The rumor has long existed that she has just as much say in the operation of Hidalgo Hacienda as does her father.”

“She’s one neighbor, then, who I shall be looking forward to meeting.”

“I suppose Joaquín has told you that you’ve only two ranches close by. There’s his ranch, and then there’s the ranch of Victoro Isidro. Victoro, by the way probably won’t be at the fiesta. The last I heard, he was off buying a new seed bull. But, you’ll no doubt have plenty of time to meet him, later; although, at sixty-four he’s not apt to be the life of any party. In fact, Joaquín’s fiesta will give you an excellent opportunity to become acquainted with most of the aristocracy from Trujillo, Albuquerque, Mérida, and all of the surrounding areas. If Fanuco de Galena isn’t enough to bring everyone running, Joaquín is well known for his exceptional hospitality.”

The cork trees had given way to barren landscape. The soil was rocky and red. Occasionally, a stream bed appeared, completely devoid of water.

Finally, there was a spot, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, that Adriano pointed out as the end of the property left Alyssa by his father.

“You are now officially on Hidalgo land,” he informed. “It won’t be long before we reach the hacienda.”

It was only five minutes later that an olive forest appeared on the horizon and the car sped toward it. Among the olives was an occasional oak, gnarled trunk and limbs lording it over the smaller, more distorted trees.

The road bisected the forest, and another roadway angled off toward the still hidden ranch house.

Before long, the fiesta element became more than evident as the car sped by a growing number of brightly costumed locals headed in the same direction.

“Joaquín will have turned over most of the immediate hacienda grounds to the villagers,” Adriano observed. “God knows, they can use every opportunity for a little fun and games.”

Alyssa didn’t have to ask why. Her drive from Madrid had taken her though more than one little village. It was easy for her to recall miserable huts without doors except for strings of beads hung to keep out the flies. Not everyone in Spain lived in a hacienda comparable to the one Lalo Montego had bequeathed Alyssa.

The Hidalgo Hacienda was another of those grand old buildings that looked as if it had been erected by some rich grandee—which it had. The building had the appearance of one which would remain standing while every adobe village within miles crumbled into dust. It was a massive structure, all white-washed walls and red brick, surrounded by a high wall that gave access to the main house and the area in which Adriano parked the car.

There were other vehicles already parked, all watched over by several young men who had obviously been paid to make sure nothing happened to the property of the guests. Alyssa had never been all that good at identifying car models, but she knew a Rolls Royce when she saw one (there were three), Mercedes (there were five), and a Cadillac limo (there was one). All the cars were likely expensive, especially, probably, those she couldn’t recognize.

Like the Montego Hacienda, the Hidalgo Hacienda was an oasis of trees, flowers, and fountains. It made one quickly forget that for miles all around the desert was in primary control. Within the compound were dazzling colors as plant life ran riot. An abundance of water sprayed from submerged outlets and added a cool misting to the air to keep leaves and lawns free of dust.

“Ah, Adriano!” Joaquín Hidalgo called in greeting. He was standing in the open doorway of the hacienda, greeting the steady line of entering people. “And.…” He reached for Alyssa’s hand and bowed over it. “…Señorita Dunlap. How nice of you to come.”

“Looks as if you’ve brought in every person from miles around,” Adriano observed. Several other cars were in the process of parking, all of them filled with passengers.

Beyond the open doorway was another opened double-door that accessed the inner courtyard. Amazingly, there was a cooling breeze blowing through the resulting causeway, bringing with it the smell of fragrant flowers from the central garden.

“Come on, and we’ll find Ladonna,” Joaquín said. He was speaking mainly to Adriano, although his hand still held Alyssa’s fingers. “I think she’s with Fanuco who, by the way, is looking forward to seeing you again.” He turned his full attention on Alyssa. “And, he’s certainly looking forward to meeting my new neighbor.”

“Don’t you think you should stay positioned at the door to play host?” Adriano suggested.

“I’d miss all of the fun if I did that,” Joaquín reminded. “Besides, most everyone is already here. I’ll catch the stragglers somewhere during the course of the day or evening. I promise.”

He led them through the room and out into the courtyard. Along the way, he stopped briefly to introduce Alyssa to several people Adriano already knew.

“I’ll never keep all the names straight,” she whispered, after taking her leave, along with Adriano and Joaquín, from yet another group of people.

“Don’t worry about it,” Joaquín assured. “You’ll meet the most important ones on more than one occasion over the next few days, and things will fall into place in no time. In the meantime, Adriano and I will whisper you clues as to identities, so.…”

He caught someone’s attention across the courtyard and lifted his right arm in signal, his fingers beckoning. “Ah, there they are!” he proclaimed, leading the way toward them.

They hurried passed various people who looked as if they would have enjoyed introductions; Joaquín’s attention, though, had narrowed to include no one except the man and the woman heading toward him.

The man was darkly attractive with black hair, square jaw line. He had an exceptional body beneath a well-tailored and obviously expensive suit.

The woman had cascades of black hair; her black eyes were shielded by lush eyelashes that, at closer examination, weren’t enhanced by false additions or mascara. What kept her from being a real beauty were lips that were a bit too thin and made her mouth seem somehow too hard, adding a definite brittle edge to an otherwise complete package of attractiveness.

“Adriano!” the man exclaimed, extending a hand to take Adriano’s hand, pulling the man to him in a seemingly friendly embrace. “God, it has been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“You’ve become quite famous in the interim, Fanuco,” Adriano said, gently pushing Fanuco de Galena at arm’s-length and giving him a once-over. “Gotten a little more meat on your bones, too.”

“Why don’t you two save your remember-whens until all-around introductions are out of the way?” the woman suggested, her eyes taking Alyssa in with a comprehensive glance. Then, not waiting for the men to perform the social amenities, she extended her hand and introduced herself. “I’m Ladonna Hidalgo, and you’re Alyssa Dunlap, yes? Alyssa, this is Fanuco de Galena, matador supreme. And, you’ve met my father. Anyway, he has certainly met you, coming back with reports simply glowing with superlatives.”

Alyssa blushed, feeling ill at ease.

“As usual, my father has been right in his assessment. You are, indeed, a very attractive young woman, if I do say so. With those looks and the large tract of land now in your possession, you will undoubtedly soon find yourself surrounded by a coterie of potential suitors. I do hope you’ll be able to distinguish the grain from the chaff. If not, check in with me, and I’ll be more than happy to give you pointers.”

Ladonna was smiling, and her voice sounded as if she were merely bantering; so, why was Alyssa so uncomfortable?

Ladonna released Alyssa’s hand and moved closer to Adriano. She raised her right index finger to his face, her blood-red nail pinpointing the small scar still forming on the handsome man’s lower lip. “You’re looking hardly the worse for wear,” she said, her smile widening. “Considering Joaquín’s description, I expected you to arrive with all sorts of scarring.”

“I heard about that unfortunate incident, Adriano,” Fanuco said. “Stupid peasants, yes?” There was certain sarcasm in his voice.

“They were neither peasants nor stupid!” Alyssa announced, reflexively coming to the defense of her ranch hands.

As a result, the three turned their attention in her direction. What could have been turned into an uneasy situation, however, was saved from it by Adriano.

“There were extenuating circumstances,” he admitted. “Alyssa is probably right in insinuating her men acted rationally—everything considered.”

“You always make such a good martyr, don’t you, darling?” Ladonna said, shaking her head and clucking her tongue.

“Don’t be a bitch, my dear!” Joaquín chided. Then, he excused himself, saying he had been waiting all morning to get a chance to talk with Homas Falón and finally saw his opportunity.

“And, you two will excuse Adriano and me for a few moments, won’t you?” Ladonna said, hooking her arm in Adriano’s. “It’ll give Alyssa a chance to get better acquainted with our guest of honor.”

Adriano smiled his helplessness in the face of Ladonna’s persistence; and, promised Alyssa he wouldn’t be long.

“They do make a striking couple, don’t they?” Fanuco said. He guided Alyssa out of the mainstream of traffic and over to a small bench sitting within a small grape arbor.

“Yes, very,” she reluctantly admitted. She noticed how, when Fanuco sat, his left leg touched her right.

“It was indeed unfortunate their engagement was called off, don’t you agree?”

“Ladonna Hidalgo and Adriano were engaged?” Her surprise was more than evident. Why shouldn’t she be surprised? She was surprised! How could Adriano, who had kissed her so passionately, not once have…?

“They were engaged,” Fanuco emphasized the past tense. “The marriage, of course, became quite impossible when the Montego ranch went to you and not to Adriano. Marriages in this country, at least among the aristocracy, still aren’t made for love. They’re made for convenience and the merging of land.”

“You mean their engagement was broken because Adriano’s father didn’t leave him the ranch?” She was incredulous. Still a romantic at heart, she found it impossible to reason how any two people could split up because of something as silly as acreage. The idea was medieval!

“The separation was by mutual consent, I assure you,” Fanuco promised. “Both realized Ladonna could hardly be expected to marry a man unable to bring with him holdings at least equal to those eventually inherited by his bride.”

“That’s simply archaic!” Alyssa was still unable to believe it. “Besides, Adriano has assured me his father hardly left him a pauper.”

“Oh, his old man left him very well off, to be sure,” Fanuco agreed. “In money, that is. Land is what’s important in Spain, Señorita. Lalo Montego left you the land. The rumor, of course, is that he did so solely to abort the intended marriage of his son.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, you’re not the only one left curious on that score,” Fanuco said with a laugh. He had an attractive face made even more attractive by his lingering smile. “No one really knows what Lalo Montego’s objections to the marriage were. For all intents and purposes, he should have found it made in heaven. The Hidalgo land combined with the Montego holdings would have made the biggest spread in Spain. Everybody should have been happy as a lark about the arrangements.”

“But, Lalo Montego left the ranch to me?”

“So, you mustn’t be too concerned if Ladonna comes across a little cold at times. After all, she does have to see you as the monkey wrench thrown into the works. She’s now saddled with Victoro Isidro. And, a man of sixty-four can hardly hold out much invitation—except his land holdings—for someone as obviously young as Ladonna.”

Alyssa wasn’t sure she understood any of it!

Fanuco motioned for one of the waiters who wandered around the courtyard with a tray of glasses containing champagne and orange juice. He retrieved two and handed one to Alyssa.

“By all means, you mustn’t be at all surprised if Joaquín begins making romantic overtures, even if he’s old enough to be your father.”

“I’m afraid you’re completely losing me.”

“Am I?” Fanuco asked, dubiously. “Are you sure?”

Alyssa had gotten the insinuation that Fanuco de Galena had made in regard to how she should be suspect of any romantic attentions Joaquín Hidalgo might express towards her. She had something Joaquín wanted; something his daughter had been unable to get—the ranch of the deceased Lalo Montego. If Joaquín could charm his way into Alyssa’s confidence, despite their obvious age difference, there was a way he could add not only the Isidro property to his coffers, through his daughter’s eventual marriage to Victoro Isidro, but, also, snag the Montego estate, via Alyssa. Such success would deliver into his hands the whole giant land-acreage enchilada.

By association, there was more than a slight hint that Alyssa should, also, be on guard against Adriano Montego, for how could a young man who had his marriage plans aborted, because of his father’s will, really be as unconcerned as he seemed? Wasn’t it more likely he was out for some kind of revenge? Wasn’t it possible he was out to charm himself into Alyssa’s good graces, seduce her, and even marry her—to get the ranch?

Alyssa didn’t like the thoughts Fanuco had planted in her head. The next step was for her not to like Fanuco. She was thoroughly prepared to do so, but she found it decidedly difficult to dislike someone so handsome and with such an attractive smile. Still, good looks were only skin-deep.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. She couldn’t figure it out, for the life of her, and if Fanuco didn’t know why he was doing it, it was highly unlikely anyone else would.

“Doing what?” His expression was wide-eyed innocence that equally relayed that he knew very well to what she referred.

“I’m not very good at game-playing,” she said.

“A pity,” he replied, taking a sip of the champagne-orange juice mixture and eyeing her over the rim of his glass, “because, anyone who can’t play the game, around here, is liable to end up eaten alive.”

“Maybe you would oblige by at least providing me with the rules?”

“Except, there are no rules.” His attractive smile still played the corners of his sexy lips. “Not formal ones, that is. Merely the rules of the jungle.”

“Surely, you can be more specific than that.”

“I suppose I could, but do I really have to be? You can surely see how any attention you receive from either Joaquín or Adriano might be suspect.”

“What’s confusing to me is why you’ve said anything. You, Joaquín, and Adriano are all good friends, aren’t you?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” His look was of genuine astonishment. “Oh, you mean because of our seemingly warm greetings?”

Alyssa was literally at a loss.

“But, I thought…,” she began but didn’t finish.

“What you have to learn is how to cultivate a knack for seeing beyond facades.”

“You’re not friends, then?”

“Let’s see if I can’t clarify it for you a little. I merely think Ladonna, Joaquín, and Adriano, have more than enough already without their gobbling up your inheritance in the bargain. I see no reason why they should have any unfair advantages; although, yes, my motivations, I readily admit, are spawned from pure, unadulterated jealousy.”

“Jealousy of Joaquín and Adriano, or both?”

“Even of Ladonna,” he added. “Even, for that matter, of you.”

“Me?”

“You’ve all been born with silver spoons in your mouths, haven’t you?”

“You weren’t?”

“Good God, no! Who has been filling your pretty head with that kind of nonsense?”

“I merely assumed.”

“Well, you assumed incorrectly. My father was a ranch hand on the ranchero you now own. I was born in a house with no inside plumbing.

He didn’t look as if he were the son of some poor ranch hand.

“What you see—the suit, the expensive boots, the styled hair, the manicured nails—is only one of those façades of which I mentioned. Beneath all of this is the same snot-nosed kid who only got his chance at the bulls because Lalo Montego thought he might be able to spur his own son’s interest by offering some competition in the form of a wretched little ragamuffin. So, you see, not even Lalo Montego and I were really friends—in the true sense of the word.

“And did Adriano respond to the competition you offered?”

“The only thing that ever got a response out of Adriano was hatred of his father. That inspired him to give up a promising career in bullfighting rather than possibly becoming one of Spain’ greatest matadors. I’ve always suspected Adriano could have achieved his vengeance on his father far more aptly had he kept on with the bullfighting and eclipsed his father’s overrated reputation in the corrida.”

“His father’s reputation was overrated?” Alyssa wasn’t all that familiar with bullfighting, but she had always assumed Lalo Montego was first-rate at what he did. To hear Fanuco now insinuate otherwise was surprising.

“He was just slightly more than mediocre in a field that had sunk to the depths of mediocrity. He looked so good only because his competition was so damned bad.”

Alyssa wasn’t about to believe a word of that until she checked into the subject a bit more thoroughly. She wasn’t at all sure but that what she was hearing, here, was nothing but an undeserved put-down and sour grapes by a very egotistical young man.

“Why did Adriano hate his father so much anyway?” She might as well get Fanuco’s ideas on that while he seemed so anxious to spill everything.

“Lalo Montego was not a very nice man with women, Adriano’s mother included. Oh, he could be quite charming when he wanted, but he was mean as a rogue bull the majority of the time. Of course, it was his profession which drew women to him like flies to rotten meat. There’s something about the corrida de toros that makes female blood run hot, yes?”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Alyssa said noncommittally.

“Yes, do.”

“What about Lalo’s relationship with Joaquín Hidalgo?”

“What about it?”

“I understand they were very good friends.”

“Just because Lalo hated women, don’t assume for a moment he was homosexual.”

“I…ah…wasn’t.” That notion had never crossed her mind.

Fanuco laughed at her embarrassment, and said, “Oh, it probably would have been far better if he had been. Anyway, it might have given him some sort of inner peace if he had found someone—man or woman—he could enjoy, in and out of the bedroom. His problem was that he really didn’t enjoy sex at all. But, knowing it was expected that he should, he just kept searching for enjoyment—never finding it. As for his relationship with Joaquín, I assure you it was purely asexual. It wouldn’t have lasted as long as it had if Lalo hadn’t realized there was no one else in the world he could call a friend, except Joaquín.”

“The two remained friendly, then, up until Lalo died in the bullring?”

“Committed suicide in the corrida, don’t you mean?”

“I beg your pardon.”

“It looked like suicide to me,” Fanuco said, “and I was there to see it.”

“Suicide?”

“Granted, he wasn’t anywhere near the performer he had been—which, as I’ve already said, was never all that good, but he certainly shouldn’t have gone down the way he did. It looked very much to me as if he stepped into that horn.”

“Why would he have killed himself?”

Fanuco shrugged, and then asked, “But, you were asking about the friendship between Lalo and Joaquín, were you not?”

Alyssa could only nod her head. Fanuco’s suggestions had left her pretty much speechless.

“Well, the answer is, yes; at least, it’s yes as far as I know. Do you have any reason to believe, they weren’t friends to the end?”

She was about to mention what her mother told her, but they were interrupted by Joaquín with a Catholic nun in tow.

“Sister Dominica de Reyalda,” Joaquín introduced her to Alyssa. Fanuco already knew Sister Dominica. “It’s for her orphanage that Fanuco has so graciously donated the proceeds from the corrida he’ll be fighting in Madrid next Sunday. The affair has been sold out since the first day the tickets went on sale; aficionados coming from all over the world to see Fanuco de Galena take on all six bulls.”

“I’ll be sorry to miss it,” Alyssa said, wondering if she genuinely meant it. Certainly, it did sound like quite an occasion, but she really wasn’t all that sure she would relish seeing someone she knew—even vaguely—face six dangerous bulls in the course of one short afternoon.

“But, of course, you won’t miss it!” Joaquín contradicted. “It’s quite unthinkable that you should even consider passing up the event.”

“Didn’t you just say it has been sold out for weeks?”

“Maybe so; however, there’s always an extra seat to be scrounged up for a friend of the matador, isn’t that right, Fanuco?”

“Of course,” Fanuco said, his voice insinuating that money always had, and always would have, the clout to pull strings. “In fact, I should be most insulted if Señorita Dunlap didn’t attend.”