Free The Abducted Heart (Sweetly Contemporary Collection) by Jennifer Blake Page A

of handwriting she would expect of Ramón, even without the initial with which he had signed the short message. There would be guests for dinner, she read, Ramón’s sister and her husband, and also a business associate and his wife. The occasion would be formal. Since her own luggage would be unlikely to arrive in time, he had directed that a selection of suitable evening wear be sent to her. His own choice was the turquoise, but she was free to choose as she wished. If she should have scruples about taking the clothes, he invited her to consider his position. “I have no liking for the idea of appearing as King Cophetua to your beggar maid,” he wrote.
    How was she to take that last, she wondered? Was it intended as sarcasm, or as it sounded, a wry joke?
    Carmelita, unabashedly reading the note over her shoulder, was in no doubt as to what should be done with the contents of the box. “Come, señorita,” she urged. “Let us go and try on everything.”
    The temptation was too great to resist. When the box was emptied, three ensembles were spread out upon the bed. There was a dress with an old-fashioned look in blond lace, salmon muslin, and rust velvet, one in a softly flowing gold knit with a matching sham trimmed in silk fringe, and last of all, there was the turquoise. Though definitely not mentioned in the note, there was also a small handbag containing a makeup kit, a complete set of underclothing, hosiery, and a pair of evening sandals in silver, gold, and tropical white. Everything was perfect, right down to the sandals. Giggling at her surprise, Carmelita admitted to providing Ramón with a list of her sizes taken from the clothes she had been wearing. There should be an air of intimacy between them, he had said. He was creating that with a vengeance.
    The first two dresses were, as Ramón had said, suitable, but his final choice was also hers. The turquoise dress was simple in style with a softly draped neckline, cap sleeves, and a full skirt falling to the knee. It was the material that made it special, soft, lustrous tissue silk that shaded from deep sea blue to a gentle green with every movement. It was an enchanted dress, lending the wearer a mystic, illusive charm. Anne, staring at herself in the mirror, felt suddenly as though she had stepped inadvertently into a fairy tale, one it might be difficult to step back out of again.
    It may have been that she and Carmelita took longer than she thought over trying the dresses, or maybe her dread of the evening was to blame, but the rest of the afternoon seemed to fly past. Dinner would be late, nearly two hours past the time she was accustomed to eating; still, before she realized it, it was time to begin to think about getting dressed.
    Letting the water run hot and deep, she sprinkled the bath salts into the tub, breathing deeply of the smell reminiscent of gardenias. She had shampooed her hair that morning while she bathed, and now lacking pins to put it up out of the way, she wrapped her head turban fashion in one of the soft, thirsty towels, then stepped into the tub and lay back with a sigh. She tired easily, one of the effects of her concussion. That, she told herself, was the reason for her unaccustomed languor. Nevertheless, at this rate she would soon be spoiled. It would be fatally easy to grow used to having her every wish anticipated. It was with difficulty that she had convinced Carmelita that she was capable of dressing herself. She thought the friendly young maid had been disappointed that she was not wanted.
    Anne was halfway down the stairs before she glanced up. At the foot stood Ramón, leaning with one elbow on the carved newel post, an odd expression on his face. Her nerves gave a tiny jerk, but she let no hint of her agitation show on her face. Head high, she continued to descend until she stood just above him.
    “Chalchihuitlicue,” he said, his tone registering satisfaction.
    “What?” she asked, at a loss.
    “Chalchihuitlicue,”