much.
Diego snorted. After two days of acting the perfect gentleman, I have learned nothing of worth.
You learned she was on the road to La Coruńa, thinks her parents died there, and believes her father to be an English soldier and her mother his Spanish wife.
Yes, but I do not know what basis she has for believing it. I do not even know if she remembers their deaths. She remembers the retreat. If she remembers them being with her on it
She was four, Gaspar said with a shrug. Shes probably remembering the nurse.
But why did the colonel not just say he is her father? And why allow his mistress to steal a child in Gibraltar and carry her on a transport in the first place? That cannot have been easy for an unmarried soldier. Even if they married, why would he continue to care for her? Miss Setons description of the colonels stellar character contradicts what we have been told.
Yes, but she fits so many of the facts. She is probably ashamed to admit the truth about his character. You must get her to talk about the couple she believes to be her real parents. Then perhaps she will feel comfortable telling you the rest.
I have tried! Scowling, Diego strode up the steps. I cannot even get her alone. Mrs. Harriss burly footman accompanies us everywhere. Lucy has built a wall of English propriety between us, and everything is the school this and the school that.
She doesnt like you much, does she?
He suspected she liked him too well. That was the problem: her attraction to him terrified her. After their reckless kisses, she had closed up like a morning glory at midnight.
Still, he couldnt regret those kisses. They had been a revelation. Lucy had been a revelation, a ravishing blend of inexperience and curiosity that made him want to show her everything she secretly yearned to know.
She had sensed the depths of his desire, which had alarmed her, since that fellow Peter had blamed the ferociousness of his own lust on her nature. Hed been right about her nature but wrong about her character.
Imbécil. How could the man not appreciate her love of the sensual? It enticed Diego. And when yoked to her firmness of purpose, it was intoxicating.
In Spain, men would recognize her fine qualities. They would not belittle her as these foolish English did. She would be admired, adored. She deserved better than shegot from these English, and Diego meant to see that she received it.
Even if it meant watching some other man marry her.
He cursed under his breath. Why did he torture himself like this? He could not afford to marry her. Yet the tantalizing thought of her melting in his arms again had kept him on edge during their days together. He had found it harder by the hour to concentrate on trying to get information from her, when all he wanted was to carry her off to his bed and spend the night rousing her passions. Just the idea had kept him lying awake and frustrated for the past three nights.
Muttering a curse, Diego headed for the rickety staircase. It is not that Miss Seton does not like me; she simply does not like what she thinks I mean to do to her precious school. That is why her behavior this morning strikes me as suspicious. She has no reason to lie about supporting a charity. You would think she would invite me, if only to squeeze money out of me for her favorite cause.
He took the stairs two at a time, not bothering to slow for Gaspar. By the time the old man joined him in the study, huffing and puffing, Diego already had the trunk half packed.
Qué demonios! Gaspar clutched his hand to his chest. What madness has possessed you?
Miss Setons sneaking off at the crack of dawn only makes sense if she is raising money for a cause that she does not wish for me to know aboutprobably something to do with stopping the pleasure garden.
Gaspar blinked. Ah, yes. That does make more
Diego snorted. After two days of acting the perfect gentleman, I have learned nothing of worth.
You learned she was on the road to La Coruńa, thinks her parents died there, and believes her father to be an English soldier and her mother his Spanish wife.
Yes, but I do not know what basis she has for believing it. I do not even know if she remembers their deaths. She remembers the retreat. If she remembers them being with her on it
She was four, Gaspar said with a shrug. Shes probably remembering the nurse.
But why did the colonel not just say he is her father? And why allow his mistress to steal a child in Gibraltar and carry her on a transport in the first place? That cannot have been easy for an unmarried soldier. Even if they married, why would he continue to care for her? Miss Setons description of the colonels stellar character contradicts what we have been told.
Yes, but she fits so many of the facts. She is probably ashamed to admit the truth about his character. You must get her to talk about the couple she believes to be her real parents. Then perhaps she will feel comfortable telling you the rest.
I have tried! Scowling, Diego strode up the steps. I cannot even get her alone. Mrs. Harriss burly footman accompanies us everywhere. Lucy has built a wall of English propriety between us, and everything is the school this and the school that.
She doesnt like you much, does she?
He suspected she liked him too well. That was the problem: her attraction to him terrified her. After their reckless kisses, she had closed up like a morning glory at midnight.
Still, he couldnt regret those kisses. They had been a revelation. Lucy had been a revelation, a ravishing blend of inexperience and curiosity that made him want to show her everything she secretly yearned to know.
She had sensed the depths of his desire, which had alarmed her, since that fellow Peter had blamed the ferociousness of his own lust on her nature. Hed been right about her nature but wrong about her character.
Imbécil. How could the man not appreciate her love of the sensual? It enticed Diego. And when yoked to her firmness of purpose, it was intoxicating.
In Spain, men would recognize her fine qualities. They would not belittle her as these foolish English did. She would be admired, adored. She deserved better than shegot from these English, and Diego meant to see that she received it.
Even if it meant watching some other man marry her.
He cursed under his breath. Why did he torture himself like this? He could not afford to marry her. Yet the tantalizing thought of her melting in his arms again had kept him on edge during their days together. He had found it harder by the hour to concentrate on trying to get information from her, when all he wanted was to carry her off to his bed and spend the night rousing her passions. Just the idea had kept him lying awake and frustrated for the past three nights.
Muttering a curse, Diego headed for the rickety staircase. It is not that Miss Seton does not like me; she simply does not like what she thinks I mean to do to her precious school. That is why her behavior this morning strikes me as suspicious. She has no reason to lie about supporting a charity. You would think she would invite me, if only to squeeze money out of me for her favorite cause.
He took the stairs two at a time, not bothering to slow for Gaspar. By the time the old man joined him in the study, huffing and puffing, Diego already had the trunk half packed.
Qué demonios! Gaspar clutched his hand to his chest. What madness has possessed you?
Miss Setons sneaking off at the crack of dawn only makes sense if she is raising money for a cause that she does not wish for me to know aboutprobably something to do with stopping the pleasure garden.
Gaspar blinked. Ah, yes. That does make more
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