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“Sí.”
“Not your husband?” Uncle said, as he pulled out a chair for Shelene.
“He is not here. Roman doesn’t live at Las Colinas.”
Uncle laughed. “He has not lined his nest yet? What a fool your husband is.” He glanced at Shelene. “What? Ho, my dear, you are making him keep his distance. That is very shrewd of you. When you welcome him home, you will get anything you want.”
“It is not a game, Uncle. Ah, here’s Papa.” He was followed by the servant with a tray, including glasses and the bottle of wine, which was set on the table between them.
“Belgrano. You have returned.”
“Join us for drinks. I can tell you all about my trip.”
“Nothing nefarious, I hope. Let me pour,” Papa said. He popped the cork and filled the three glasses, handing one to Shelene then sitting beside her.
“Why is it everyone has a difficult time believing my past is in the past?”
“Are you sure Shelene is the person to ask such a question?” Papa said to her uncle. Papa had understood her since she was a young girl, and even apart for so many months, he still grasped her feelings.
“Papa, please. People change, just not the men I know,” she said. “You, for instance. Pretending you are happy on land, but knowing you dream of your ships every night.”
Papa laughed. Uncle Francisco lifted his glass in a salute. “Saludo.” He set his glass aside. “So, where is the Lion of England?”
“Roman? Is that what you call him?” Shelene laughed, pressing her fingers to her lips. A lion? Yes, he was!
“He likes to roar, more than he can devour,” Uncle Francisco said.
“Are we talking about the same lion?” Shelene asked. She was told of the brutalities her uncle had committed. War was the excuse he had used when asking for forgiveness. Those realities warred against the truth that he was family—one of the few family members she had left. He even looked like her mother when he was sipping wine on a sunny afternoon.
When he was unhappy, and she had seen those moments too, she experienced internal fear and the sheer force of his will. Was he particularly happy now because no one challenged his position at Las Colinas?
“I saw the new Arabians in the stalls. Is it true you are starting a new breeding program?”
“A gift from Roman. We plan to establish a line worthy of the Hightower and Forrester dynasties.”
“With a man you are barely talking to?”
“Careful, Belgrano. You think Roman Forrester is the Lion of England? Have you met the Tigress of Spain?” her father said.
Shelene glanced at her father, lids lowered, feeling a smug delight at the comparison. “You needn’t worry, Uncle. Brahim’s son, Udad, will likely handle the details. He can coordinate with Roman as much as he desires.”
“I would be glad to be part of such an endeavor. The Belgrano line has always been a strong one.”
“We’ve done no serious breeding over the past two years. Only maintained what we had. I think it will be best to start with new stock, rather than a ragtag group of nags,” she said. It was a poor insult, one that would hurt Cortes and Udad more than her uncle, but he raised his brows, her criticism hitting a mark. “What do you think, Papa?”
“Your mother loved her horses, but I’ve always been more interested in wine and cheese. But it can never hurt to have additional sources of income to ensure Las Colinas prospers,” Papa said. “Aside from the horses, what other business opportunities have you been pursing. In Malaga?”
“Not business. Pleasure. I have friends there.”
“One hopes it isn’t the sort of friends to bring ill-favor upon our serene valley,” the commodore said.
Shelene glanced between the men. He father, not of great stature, but of great presence, had the sort of authority that Roman did. Her uncle, on the other hand, tried to make his presence formidable and often he tried too hard.
“I am of the opinion that we must always be prepared, no matter the circumstance. You know there is trouble brewing in all the provinces. It is imperative that we have the right friends,” her uncle said.
“It is rather more imperative that we keep everyone in the valley safe,” Shelene said. “Possibly evenfromyour friends.”
Uncle pursed his lips. “You say that as if I don’t care what happens on Las Colinas.”
