Free Baroness by Susan May Warren

me?”
    â€œFlying?”
    â€œNo, Peach, somewhere grander. Hem and some others are talking about taking a jaunt down to the bullfights in Spain. They just started in Pamplona. It’s too early for the running of the bulls, but we thought we’d all take a look at the sport. Hem wants to write about it for some American journal.” He stopped, looked down at her. “You could write an article for the Chronicle.”
    â€œNo. I never want to write for the Chronicle.”
    He held up his hand. “Forget I suggested it. Come—it’ll be a grand diversion away from Rosie and her pouting.”
    â€œI’m afraid Rosie won’t allow me to. It’s one thing to squirrel away the night with you and Presley and the other chaps. It’s another to go to Spain.”
    But the idea lit inside her like a flame. Bullfights. It sounded rough and raw, and the sense of it conjured up memories of Montana and helping Abel with the cattle drives.
    â€œThen don’t tell Rosie. We’ll sneak away, and by the time you return, she’ll have found other pursuits to distract her. She has to realize sometime that you don’t need her.”
    She didn’t need Rosie? Perhaps not. Perhaps she didn’t need anyone. Except, of course, Rennie.
    Lilly looked up at him, smiled. “When?”
    â€œHem is making the arrangements. Perhaps in a week?”
    She found herself nodding before her mouth could make the reply. “Yes. Of course. Yes.”
    Rennie’s smile could feed her for a week. He stopped her right there, under the streetlights, and kissed her again, this time something hungry and urgent in his touch. She curled her hands up around his shoulders and pressed into him, freeing herself to kiss him in a way that stole her breath.
    Oh.
    â€œI have finally discovered what I love best about Paris,” he said into her ear as he let her go.
    She warmed down to her toes, not even needing her coat when he fetched it. He hailed a cab and she snuggled into the cradle of his arms as the taxi drove her home, past the lights of Luxembourg Park, then over the bridge by Notre Dame, past the Hotel de Ville, and finally to her house on the Champs-Élysées.
    A light burned from deep inside, a faint glow through the window bars onto the street, prisms of light against the darkness.
    â€œI have lessons all day tomorrow, but I will fetch you in the evening, for dinner.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Spain,” he said softly.
    â€œSpain,” she replied, grinning. She let herself out of the taxi and waved as it pulled away.
    Spain. The word settled inside her like a live coal.
    She would tell Rosie, of course, but not ask, not invite. Frankly, Rosie might not even care. She hadn’t seemed to even notice when Lilly left every night, bidden by the honking of Rennie’s horn.
    She opened the door and noticed that Rosie had left the light to the parlor burning. It squeezed out under the door.
    Lilly opened it to extinguish the light and froze.
    Aunt Jinx sat on the divan, Uncle Bennett behind her, his hand on her shoulder. Rosie looked away from them on her perch in a straight chair, her face drawn.
    â€œWelcome home, Lillian Joy,” Aunt Jinx said. “You’re just in time.”

Chapter 4

    Rosie had declared herself a fool the moment she stepped foot into the Pre-Catelan, the infamous outdoor restaurant and cabaret in the creamy white Bois de Bologne. She stood in the entryway, took in the gold wallpaper, the dark zinc hostess stand, the round gold fabric divan, and then saw him standing across the room, at the foot of the long, red-carpeted marble stairway.
    Dash seemed startled, and on his face formed a hurt smile. He could be so very dangerous in a black tailored suit, a gray tie, his dark hair slicked back, especially when the smile vanished and his brown eyes watched her as if they’d never met, as if she amused him.
    She refused to