Page 68 of Love Me Once

She clucked her tongue and the horse jumped, pulling her away from a startled Roman. She didn’t look back.

Once she returned to Las Colinas, she met with Brahim about her wishes for the next five days. She was going to Seville to shop. “Whatever Papa needs, please help him and if he needs to know how the estate is running, please show him everything and answer all his questions.”

“And Señor Forrester?”

“He will not be here. I will take two men with me to chaperon along with Durra to help care for Tono.”

“Sí, Señora. I’ll arrange for everything.”

“And I need to find some cinchona bark rather urgently, for Mr. Oliver Forrester.”

“It will be found.”

It wasn’t a frivolous trip. She had accounts to settle in Seville from expenses incurred for the wedding. Señor Navarro would perhaps pay them if he weren’t so humiliated in all this. She would take care of it without bothering him.

Wine purchases could be made. Cloth and materials for drapes, towels and bedding could be ordered. New rugs from Morocco could be purchased, as well. She’d meet with Sakina after dinner to make a list to ensure she forgot nothing. And that she kept herself busy.

Was her life to be spent languishing because of Roman Forrester? No, it was not!

* * * * *

Waiting was one of Roman’s specialties. Patience could win skirmishes, battles and wars, allowing one to plan well and overcome the most cunning of adversaries.

Shelene’s decisions were quick and based on emotion, for the most part, though they had a certain thrust that delivered a ruthless blow, without killing.

Taking Tono with her had a certain guile. And foolishness.

But more importantly, her decision was also fraught with danger. She knew that the farther north one traveled, the more danger there was from miscreants, banditos and brigands from years of war. Aside from the coachman, she had taken two other men to guard them while they traveled. Well, at least Belgrano was away which gave Roman time to ask pertinent questions in Andalucía.

He, Dewey and Rousseau took the road toward Malaga, each taking a turn down the side roads toward the small towns that could easily harbor Belgrano’s associates. Along the way, Roman grilled them for information on all the happenings in Spain that would give him a better understanding of the political and economic situation that would impact life over the years to come. He slipped in a few questions about Navarro, his courtship of Shelene and his friendship with Belgrano. If this was to be his home, he would be prepared. And he would know who his enemies were.

It was a simple matter to stop at the localtabernaand have a pint of brew while asking a few questions. They covered a lot of ground and by dark, they were nearing Villamartin, where they stayed a night, spreading out in the city to speak to the loose-tongued at inn tables across the city. The next day they made it to several more towns, stopping in Zahara.

The third day they headed for home and took a road to the south that would take them through different towns. That night Roman said, as he dismounted from his horse, “I think I’ve been lied to. Belgrano didn’t go east after all. Surely we would have talked to one person who might know something.”

“All the better to hide his intentions,” Rosseau said.

“Who knows if he left Las Colinas at all,” Roman said.

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

“La Rata. You haven’t heard that particular epithet?” Roman said.

“There are so many, but the Rat does seem appropriate,” Rosseau stated.

“Because they are dirty, dangerous and everyone wants them gone?” Dewey asked, laughing.

“But why? Why say he’s traveling to Malaga and then not leave at all?” Roman asked.

“To keep an eye on you. You know he’s a threat to you, don’t you?” Dewey asked.

“He plays childish games. If his pardon means anything, he’ll meet the terms of it, whatever those are. Kings don’t just give forgiveness without the expectation of long-term devotion. Belgrano must have promised something in return,” Rousseau added.

“No. He groveled and begged, just as you’d expect a coward to do,” Roman said.

The next morning, the horses moved with a brisk gait along a well-worn road, paralleled by trim wooden fencing. Roman reined his horse to a stop to admire the horses in the field. Dewey and Rousseau pulled their stallions to a halt. Roman whistled. “That’s some beautiful horse stock.”

“Arabians?” Rousseau questioned. “Rare beauties.”

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