Blood in the Valencian Soil (Secrets of Spain) by Caroline Angus Baker

one else had a beautiful dress like this. Luna knew that she lived in a nation where every day could be your last, but to have something so simple yet so precious lifted her spirits. The dress was a reminder of a better time than now. This white dress in Luna’s room was the single thing she owned that reminded her that life could be different. Better.
    It was almost time to head up to the plaza for the town meeting that had taken the place of the now cancelled fiesta, but Alejandro and Sofía were nowhere to be found. Her brother had gone to the hospital to meet his wife when she finished her shift, and neither had returned. Go on, Luna. Try on the dress. Of course, there was no reason to wear it tonight. This year they would bring the remaining people of the town together, who would get emotional about how they would to fight to save their lives.
    She changed into the gown and felt the softness of it against her body. If the day came that she had to flee Cuenca, the dress would be the only thing she would take with her.
    She turned sharply at the sound of a knock on the door. Alejandro had probably forgotten his key again. He did it all the time. No doubt her brother would tease her about the dress again. It had been Sofía’s wedding dress, but she wouldn’t mind Luna wearing it.
    “La chispa.”
    Luna’s eyes widened in surprise when she opened the door. There stood Cayetano Ortega; he looked all tidied up for a change. He wore a simple black suit, complete with tie. When he said he would dress up on the night of the fiesta, he had meant it. His curly black hair was shining under the single light that hung outside the door, and was bright as his smile. La chispa. The spark. “What is la chispa?” she asked.
    “You are. You’re the spark that sets off a blazing fire in me.”
    Luna couldn’t help but giggle and look away from him. Her cheeks that felt as if they were on fire. She had no idea what it was about her brother’s friend. She had known him for years. He had come to Cuenca from Madrid 10 years ago, when he was only 15, and alone. He was charming, and funny, and sensual, and so, so wrong for her. He was the man she couldn’t lust after. She had once been a  proud Catholic girl – she shouldn’t have lusted after anyone. She was old enough to know that all women lusted for men, and this man, who was clearly very interested in her, was the man she loved. Not the man she had promised to marry at her father’s request.
    “Alejandro isn’t here,” she said. “He has gone to the hospital to get Sofía.”
    “That was a while ago,” Cayetano frowned. “He left me at the Libertad on the corner at least half an hour ago.”
    “You and Alejandro keep that bar in business. Any time I need to look for him, I know to check the Libertad.”
    “We men have much to discuss.”
    “You mean you and Alejandro talk on and on about all the bullfighting you both love but don’t get to enjoy anymore?”
    “That also. We don’t want to trouble you fine ladies with the details.”
    “You take Scarlett to the bar.”
    “Señorita Beltrán, are you jealous?”
    “Jealous? No,” she scoffed. “That bar is disgusting, as are the men who frequent the place.”
    “Men like me? I might head back there now. They have a fire, unlike my place. It’s cold out here.”
    Luna rolled her eyes. The cheeky look on his face was too sweet to deny. “Come in, the fire is on.”
    Cayetano stepped inside the dark living room and went straight over the dull orange glow of the fire in the stove and held out his hands, and felt them tingle in response to the warmth. “Thank you,” he said to Luna and watched her close the front door. “I realise it’s improper for me to come in when you’re at home alone.”
    “It’s you, Cayetano.” Luna stepped carefully over the wooden floorboards in her long dress. “I trust you.” It was herself that she didn’t trust.
    “You shouldn’t. I don’t trust myself. I have done