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“I’m going to introduce you as ‘my man Pembroke,’ as in right-hand man. Also, please don’t call me ‘ma’am’ this evening—refer to me as ‘señora.’”

“Shouldn’t it be ‘señorita’?”

She smiled at the question; he was very smart. “No, even though I’m unmarried, I have a certain status.” They reached the group, and Isabel embraced her affectionately, delivering kisses on both cheeks. Turning to the others, Reina curtseyed and said, “Permítanme presentarles a mi hombre, Señor John Pembroke.” Leaning close to Pembroke, she prompted, “Now you say ‘Encantado.’ ”

He murmured the word and bowed.

After introductions had been made, a servant appeared with a tray of sherry in crystal glasses, which were quickly passed around.

The ambassador raised his glass. “Que viva la comunidad Española!” The toast echoed heartily, and they all drank.

“This sherry was made by Don Ramón, our host,” Reina murmured to Pembroke. “He and his wife, Doña Isabel, both speak English.”

Understanding, Pembroke instantly declared the sherry to be the most delicious he had ever tasted. The remark led to Don Ramón’s expansive explanation of the drink’s production, from the harvesting of Palomino grapes to its fermentation in the warm Andalusian climate.

Meanwhile, Isabel sidled close to Reina and asked sotto voce, “Where did you find that beautiful man?”

Demurely, Reina replied, “From an employment agency.”

“Were there any left? I want one too.”

Reina had to look away, biting back a grin.

The musicians began to play bolero music, and the ambassador led his wife to the dance floor. Couples coursed across the floor like the flow of blood through veins, their movements elastic but precise as their feet marked the slow-quick-quick rhythm.

Everyone loved bolero, which expressed the pleasure of anticipation . . . a promise that might not be fulfilled . . . a question that might not be answered. It was seduction for its own sake, with nothing known or assumed.

Noticing Pembroke’s interest in the dance, Reina asked, “Would you like to learn bolero? It’s not difficult.”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t—”

“Of course he does,” Isabel interrupted cheerfully, and turned to her husband. “Mi amor, dance with Reina, por favor, while I take this gentleman to the abuelas.”

“The what?” Pembroke asked warily.

Seeing that he’d finished his sherry, Reina took his empty glass. “Drink this too,” she advised, handing him her sherry. He downed it in a gulp before Isabel hauled him away. Reina gave him a reassuring smile as he glanced at her over his shoulder like a lamb being led to slaughter.

Chuckling, Don Ramón watched his wife fondly. “That Isabel. She makes a project of everyone she meets.”

“Except for you, Don Ramón, who needs no improvement,” Reina told him ingenuously, and he laughed outright.

“Every husband is his wife’s lifelong project,” he said as he led her into the dance.

Chapter Twenty-One

Bolero

Although Don Ramón was an accomplished dancer, Reina couldn’t relax and enjoy the bolero fully. She was too preoccupied with what might be happening to Pembroke. After the bolero ended, Don Ramón escorted her to the far corner occupied by the abuelas, a group of older women who’d known each other for decades.

Pembroke stood among them, listening attentively, while Isabel stood nearby and translated.

Reina was gratified to see how composed he appeared, when most men would have been flustered by so much attention. Although he certainly hadn’t volunteered for a lesson in bolero, he seemed to be applying himself without any sign of reluctance.

The abuelas had made Pembroke remove his coat, probably for a better view of his movements, although Reina suspected some prurient interest was involved. Usually without the concealment of a coat, a man’s flaws were revealed no matter how well his clothes had been tailored. Pembroke’s form, however, was revealed to be very fine indeed, athletic but elegant, all tough-knit muscle and long lines.

Doña Pilar, a celebrated opera singer from Valencia, proceeded to teach him the basic bolero pattern. One slow two-beat step, followed by two quick steps.

Reina saw Pembroke’s growing confidence as he started to acquire a feel for the rhythm, the rise and fall of the body, the subtle push-and-pull between the dancers.