Page 13 of Midnight Surrender to the Spaniard

‘Oh.’ He thought for a moment and looked around. ‘Then he would love a Spanish wedding. There’s no such thing as bedtime here. Unfortunately!’

‘You don’t think children should be allowed at the reception?’ Anna asked, and thought of Willow who, if she were here, would be dashing around and making friends, as well as a whole lot of noise. ‘I think it’s lovely.’

‘Then welcome to Jerez,’ he said dryly, and gave a small laugh. ‘I am the...’ His voice paused, perhaps in order to select the correct word, but his body kept moving, lithe and strong. He never missed a beat and carried on smoothly, turning and guiding her through the steps. Then his voice came deep in her ear—deep and close. ‘I am the killjoy.’

Anna said nothing, but as another couple moved a little too near she was momentarily grateful that he pulled her in close. Then it dawned on her that her face was on his chest, and she felt less relieved.

He never stopped moving—just effortlessly corrected their position and shielded them from the rather more flamboyant displays on the dance floor. Despite being on show, in front of two hundred people, she felt hidden—as if he’d taken her into an alternative world for two where they shared private thoughts and conversation.

‘Maybe I am too cynical...’ Now he did pause, that effortless grace momentarily suspended, as if he were deep in thought. ‘I just question people’s motives...’

‘Not everyone has a motive, Sebastián. Some people are just...’ Anna hesitated. She didn’t want to call her best friend naïve on her wedding day, even if that was what she privately thought.

‘Some people are...?’ he queried, prompting her to go on.

But Anna had lost her train of thought.

The music had slowed and she wished the dance would end.

Not because of the discomfort.

More because of the awareness.

She was a young woman—a mother—so clearly not naïve, and yet that was exactly the word she would have chosen for herself now, if asked.

Naïve because she had never known how alive her body could feel.

Naïve because she’d thought she’d known what attraction felt like, and yet what she had felt before was pale and drab in comparison to what she was experiencing now.

‘Some people...?’ he said, prompting her again.

She lifted her head and looked into his black eyes for a moment before answering.

‘Are too trusting,’ Anna said.

‘You are not?’

‘Oh, no.’ She shook her head.Not any more. ‘But you’re wrong about Emily.’

‘I hope so.’

‘They’re clearly in love.’

‘Please!’ He gave a mocking laugh, but then conceded a touch. ‘Well, if it’s the love match of the century then good luck to them.Iwouldn’t want it.’

‘You don’t want love?’ Anna frowned.

‘God, no. Another damn person to worry about? No, thank you.’

She laughed—actually laughed—understanding a little what he meant. Because since Willow had been born she’d felt as if she was walking around with her heart in her mouth. Then she heard her own laughter and it sounded so carefree...a sound she had forgotten—almost foreign. Perhaps it was the sound ofSpanishlaughter!

But the moment was short-lived, for the music had ended. The dance she had both anticipated and dreaded was over, and she found herself wishing that he might not notice...that their dance would go on...

Instead, duty done, he thanked her and let her go.

It was possibly just as well, because there was stamping from those on the stage, and shouts of‘Olé!’from the guests, and the tempo of the music picked up in response.

Anna was ill equipped for any of that.

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