Free Captive Innocence by Fern Michaels Page A

looked standing next to Senora Quince. His heart thumped in his chest as she boldly returned his gaze. There was no point in denying the fact that he found her exciting. She was indeed a sleek jungle cat.
    â€œLadies, please do me the honor of joining me at my table,” he said urbanely.
    Mrs. Quince, in the abrupt manner to which Royall had become familiar, answered for them. “I thought you would never ask. But I wam you, if you hadn’t, I would have invited us anyway. So it’s just as well you did, Sebastian!”
    The twin orbs of jet glowed at Rosalie Quince. “Based on our long acquaintance, I’ve no doubt you would, Senora. However, let me assure you, the pleasure is all mine.” His words were directed to Rosalie Quince; his gaze was for Royall alone. A gesture, a word, and two stewards lifted Mrs. Quince, complete with wheelchair, down the few steps to the main Salon. Offering his arm to Royall, they followed behind the steward pushing the chair to Sebastian’s table.
    The conversation was lively, owing much to Mrs. Quince’s jocularity and loquaciousness, not to mention her constant references to her wheeled chair. The dinner of stuffed lamb and rice was delectable, and the wine Sebastian chose to accompany the meal was the perfect complement to the savory courses. In spite of her previous misgivings, Royall found herself relaxing in his company, in fact enjoying it.
    When the waiter came to take the order for dessert, Mrs. Quince uttered a small squeal of delight. “At last,” she sighed. “Sebastian, I can’t tell you how many months I’ve hungered for clea’ho.”
    â€œI can well imagine, Senora Quince. I understand guava is not a popular fruit in America.”
    At this exchange Royall frowned. She did so hate to be left out of any conversation.
    â€œDear, Sebastian is referring to my passion for the favorite dessert of Brazilians—guava paste and white cheese. Do you think you would care to try some? Or perhaps you would like to have a Blessed Mother?”
    Royall frowned again. “What is a Blessed Mother?”
    Sebastian and Mrs. Quince laughed, but at the embarrassed look on Royall’s face, Sebastian’s features sobered.
    â€œSenora Banner, forgive my rudeness. Senora Quince and I are enjoying ourselves at your expense, I’m afraid. A Blessed Mother is what the natives call certain little pastries. They’re very similar to French petits fours. The Indians usually serve them on religious holidays, hence the name, ‘Blessed Mothers.’ ”
    â€œOh, I see. Perhaps I shall try a Blessed Mother, if you don’t mind.” Seeing the apologetic look on Mrs. Quince’s face, she broke into a mirthful smile. If Sebastian Rivera could act as though nothing had happened between the two of them, then so could she.
    â€œIt would seem Senora Banner also has a teasing sense of humor. Senora Quince, I can’t tell you how I’m looking forward to this journey up the Amazon. Thanks to Mrs. Banner and yourself, I believe I’m the only gentleman aboard who is so fortunate as to be honored with the company of two such lovely ladies.”
    â€œSebastian, save your speeches for the dance floor. My ankle is aching me. Please don’t hesitate to ask Royall to dance for fear of leaving me alone at the table.” Mrs. Quince pressed her hand to her lips to stifle a demure yawn. “As soon as I have finished my dessert, I fear it will be all I can do to keep my eyes open. Therefore, I shall have one of the stewards take me back to my cabin and entrust you to see that Royall is properly entertained. I have no wish to act as a duenna, I can assure you. I’ve known you long enough, Sebastian, to feel it quite proper to leave Royall in your care.”
    Oh, Mrs. Quince, if you only knew how wrong you are, Royall thought.
    Sebastian nodded. “I shall be delighted to act as escort for Senora