AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“How are you going to convince Daddy of that? After the word prison, he’ll be too angry to hear anything more.”
Maggie drew in a deep breath. “I know. That’s why I wasn’t going to mention it, but Rafael insists we must. It was a significant part of his life, and he won’t hide it.”
“That sounds like looking for a fight to me.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way. Are you afraid to go to the bullfights with him on Sunday?”
“No, I’m looking forward to it. Santos is so proud of himself, he has to be good.”
“Yes, but apparently no one lives up to Miguel’s well-deserved fame. That has to grate on him.”
“He’s young,” Libby reminded her. “Maybe someday he’ll surpass his father’s success.” He certainly looked the part. Patricia would positively drool over him. Maybe she ought to claim the handsome Spaniard as her own man of the week before Patricia could. Sadly, the term had a sad hollow ring. The man confused her. She might admire the Vikings’ spirit of adventure, but when it came to Santos, she
intended to be far more cautious.
Chapter Three
Sunday afternoon was sunny and warm, a perfect day, but Libby struggled to find something intelligent to say as she drove to the arena with Rafael. He appeared content to remain silent, so she gave up rather than blather and studied the passing scenery. Barcelona had a fascinating mix of ornate nineteenth-century architecture and modern glass and steel, as she supposed most European cities must. As they neared the arena, protesters stepped off the curb to wave their placards and shout to passersby.
“They want to see the end of bullfighting,” Rafael explained. “Some praise it as a glorious tradition; others, like those people and Maggie, denounce it as a barbaric relic that ought to be abolished.”
“Have you seen any of the popular video games? They’re far more violent than a bullfight, and they’re murdering people right and left with blood splattering everywhere.”
“I’ve missed those.”
“Well, you haven’t missed anything.”
He knew a good place to park and took Libby’s hand to lead her through the crowd lining up at the entrance. People called to him, and he waved, but he didn’t tarry to talk to anyone as they made their way inside.
“Won’t you miss all that adoration?”
He responded with a half-smile. “I appreciate their enthusiasm, but they’ll love the next new matador just as well.”
They had seats on the shady side of the arena. The people around them were laughing and talking, eagerly looking forward to an entertaining afternoon. “Is Santos as popular as he believes he is?”
“Yes, you’ll see when he enters the arena. The crowd will call his name as they did at Bailaora. He’s good-looking, young, single. What more could the crowd want?”
“I suppose that’s the whole package.” She felt right at home among the loud, animated crowd. She loved football games, where she could stand up and yell and no one would tell her to hush. When she recognized a face, she grabbed Rafael’s arm. “Isn’t that Ana Santillan sitting a couple of rows above us?”
He turned to look. “Yes, she has tickets for the whole season. She’s holding her camera, and her photos are very good, but Santos values his privacy.”
“Are you going to sell photos of the wedding?”
“What? Who suggested that?”
His dark scowl surprised her, and she hadn’t meant to upset him. “Santos mentioned it. Celebrities in America sell personal photos all the time, often to raise money for their favorite charity.”
He relaxed and nodded. “This isn’t America.”
“I noticed.”
The arena’s brass band played a lively march for the entrance of the three matadors. Their suits were heavily decorated with gold trim, and each wore an embroidered cape slung over his left shoulder. As promised, Santos had worn a blue suit of lights, and his two companions were dressed in red and green. The crowd erupted in wild shouts and applause, and, just as Rafael had predicted, fans began chanting, “Santos! Santos!”
Next came the banderilleros, also on foot. Their suits were as beautifully decorated as the matadors’ but with silver thread rather than gold. Finally the picadores rode in on heavily padded mounts.
Santos turned to wave to the crowd and then came to the edge of the ring below their seats and looked up at Libby. He doffed his hat and smiled.
Frantic, Libby asked, “What am I supposed to do?”
