Page 2 of Her Spanish Scandal

“Don’t try to pretend you really care what I have to say or what upset me. I know I’m the last woman you’d normally look at.”

He drew her out of the crowded foyer of the church and off to a quiet hallway. She loved the cathedral. Even though her family wasn’t Catholic, she’d been to the church a lot just to walk around and study the architecture.

“What do you know of me? Were we not just introduced?” he asked.

She blushed, thinking of all the stories she’d heard about him. Tristan she’d known for ages, because his sister, Blanche, and her sister were best friends. So she knew stories of Gui, Tristan and Christos. She’d heard about Seconds, the clubs they co-owned together, and about their wild parties, and had seen with her own envious eyes the beautiful women who always surrounded them.

“I’m Rina’s sister,” she said, as if that would explain it all.

“Ah. Well, what did Rina tell you about me?” he asked.

Rina protected Kara as if she were her mother. She’d warned Kara to stay away from men like Guillermo. Men who were too confident in how they looked and their ability to win over any woman.

“Just that…Listen, can you please just let this go?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I think it means the same thing in practically every language, querida.”

“I’m not your darling,” she said through clenched teeth, hating the fact that she’d always been emotional and cried so easily. If not for that, Guillermo would never have noticed her and she wouldn’t be having this conversation.

“Why does that make you defensive?” he asked.

“Count—”

“Gui,” he said. “I’m not going to let this go.”

She shook her head. “Why do you care?”

“Because you look so sad. I want to make you smile.”

“Make me smile?” she asked, unable to believe he really would. “I’m the fat sister. The nice sister. The one no one pays any attention to.”

Gui stroked one finger down the side of her face, running lightly over a cheekbone and the line of her jaw. “You are exquisite, Kara. Not fat at all. Why do you believe this?”

“Because I look in the mirror before I leave the house.”

“Maybe your mirror is distorted,” he said.

His hand cupped her face and she caught her breath at the way he touched her. It was almost as if he was compelled to. “No. Don’t be silly.”

He shook his head. “Tell me what made you cry.”

“Nothing in particular. I was just staring at this lovely venue and thinking about the bride.”

“Sheri and Tristan are meant to be together,” he said. “Did you love him?”

“No. Tristan has always treated me like a little sister. And I’ve never thought of him that way.” She was horrified that anyone would think she was crying because she’d been in love with the groom.

“Then why?” he asked again.

She took a deep breath, knowing she was going to tell him, if only to stop this crazy conversation. But she couldn’t while he was touching her or looking at her. She took his hand in her own and pressed his handkerchief to his palm.

“Because I’ll never be that kind of bride.”

She walked away from him, because she did have some pride. And there was something compelling about Guillermo de la Cruz that made her want to tell him all of the secrets she usually kept buried down deep inside her soul.