"How's it going over there?" Sofia stepped out of her shoes with a sigh and padded to her sitting room. "I understand that there was extensive damage to the cottages. How bad is it?"
"Pretty bad." From the cottage he was staying at, Tomas settled back on the pillows and stared up at the plain ceiling. "Thankfully, the fire started during the day, when no one was home. The flames were contained before they could reach the vines."
"I care more about the villagers. How are you, querida?" she asked in concern. "You sound worn out."
"Just a little exhausted. I'm planning on returning on Monday." He hesitated briefly before plunging on. "How's the new hire?"
Sofia stopped in the process of letting down her hair. She had dismissed her maid, preferring to do the task of undressing herself, and had stopped in to speak to Antoinette before retiring.
"She's doing great and working out even better than I anticipated. I ordered her to go to the gallery tonight. She met someone, the American I hired some time ago. I think they hit it off."
The silence that followed her comment had her smiling.
"Good for her," he said gruffly. "Perhaps her disposition will have improved somewhat."
"Tomas."
"I know, be nice. I intend to. Now I really have to go, mother. Sleep is calling my name."
Putting his phone away, he stacked his hands behind his head and resumed his contemplation of the plain ceiling. It didn'tmatter to him that she was into that type. He knew the guy. His mother, with her open heart and compassionate nature, had had him at the palace a few times for supper.
He always struck Tomas as an ass-kisser, always complimenting the queen on her beauty and exclaiming repeatedly how lovely the palace was. Unless he missed his guess, he could almost say the peacock had been pursuing his mother.
He snorted derisively. As if Queen Sofia would ever entertain the idea of being with someone like him.
He ignored the fact that he was feeling irked that the assistant had just met the guy and already they were fast friends. Soon they would be lovers. Angry at how pissed off he was at the very thought, he swung his legs off the bed and went to grab a bottle of scotch. He would do as he promised: apologize to her and stay the bloody hell out of her way. It was not like she was his type.
But the truth of it was, he had been unable to get her the hell out of his head. It was as if she had planted herself there and was lodged in deep. Taking the bottle with him, he sat on the edge of the bed and drank straight from it.
*****
Antoinette buttered scones and half listened to the enthusiastic chatter of Carmen. She was more interested in the activities on the grounds of the palace. She had slept in late, opening her eyes to discover that it was almost nine. Panic had set in before she recalled that it was Saturday and she had the weekend off.
Queen Sofia had warned her that it would be this way all the time.
"So, enjoy it while you can," she had advised. And she intended to. She would finish breakfast, laze around a little bit, and then head out for her meeting with Luther. She refused to call it a date. It was just one American meeting another and chatting about familiar things. She was not interested in him that way. He might be attractive and dapper. She smiled as she remembered how he had persuaded her to stay a little longer by taking her on a tour. And he had been delighted at her excellent grasp of the native language.
"I'm afraid that even after staying here for a period, I'm still struggling with the accent. I tend to butcher it. I might have to hire you as a tutor."
"My time is well booked."
He made her laugh and was not a threat to her. Not like... her thought veered sharply away from the danger zone. She was not going to think about him. Not one bit.
"Are you finished with the tray, Señorita Antoinette?"
"Oh." Blinking, she tore her gaze from the tour going on and realized that she had cleaned her plate. "I suppose I was hungry. Gracias, Carmen. And I wish you'd call me Antoinette."
"It would not be proper," Carmen said firmly as she bustled around the room, putting away the clothing Antoinette had discarded as she got ready for bed. "How was your night?"
"It was very good." She told the woman with a smile, accepting the extra cup of café con leche gratefully. "You know, this is beginning to grow on me."
"It's delicious. You will be going out this afternoon?"
"I will. I'm meeting someone for coffee." She grinned as she lifted the cup to her lips. "Then I intend to take a walk in the market."
The woman's swarthy face split into a wide smile. Whirling towards the huge closet with its quaint shelves and compartments, she zeroed in on a stack of neatly folded sweaters in various jeweled colors, picking up one in emerald green. "This and the adorable brown trousers I just laundered yesterday."
Antoinette laughed, caught up in the woman's enthusiasm. "It's just coffee and afterwards a walk in the market."
"Then not the sweater, but the bottom." Folding the material neatly, she put it away carefully and turned towards another section of the closet. "This shirt. It echoes the color of the trousers, and I love these red and blue stripes. It's perfect."
"That's perfect."
The woman beamed gratefully and went about taking down the shirt.
