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“What happened?” I asked quietly.
Whit stiffened.
“It’s obvioussomethingdid.”
“Why don’t you want your uncle to find out?” he asked abruptly.
“What makes you think he can be trusted?”
“Because he saved my life, Olivera.”
“What?” I asked, forgetting to whisper.
Whit threw me a furious look and quickly stood and went to the entrance. He shifted the curtain aside an inch and peered outside. After a moment he let the fabric drop and then sat on the ground, staring at me warily.
“I’m not leaving until you explain what happened.”
“I can make you leave.”
“You won’t touch me again.”
Whit wrenched his gaze from mine, his lips pressed flat. Finally, he spoke in a low volume, every word yanked out of him as if without his permission. “It was right after I was kicked out of the military. The things I saw…” His voice trailed off and he shuddered. After a beat he began again. “I’d sunk low, spent more time drunk than sober, and I’d backed myself into a corner. Ricardo got me out and has stood with me ever since. Satisfied?”
It wasn’t the whole picture, but I’d learned enough to understand the reason behind Whit’s unwavering loyalty to my uncle. He was in Tío Ricardo’s debt. Instead of answering his question I said, “Swear to me that you won’t tell my uncle.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Dame un día más.”
“Why do you want one more day?”
“Whit.”
“Mr. Hayes,” he corrected. “I told you to observe proper etiquette. I’m not used to being the one who has to remember the rules, and it’s really starting to annoy me.”
I scrambled forward, onto my hands and knees, and crawled toward him. He remained motionless, alert and wary. Our faces were inches apart. “You can’t just pretend that you don’t feel it. What exists between us.”
“Listen, there’snothing—”
I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his. Shock reverberated through me. Whit didn’t kiss me back, but he didn’t pull away either. We froze, and for a fleeting moment I wondered if it was because he didn’t want to break the connection. Slowly, I brushed my mouth against his, and I felt him soften imperceptibly. A subtle shift in his weight, his lips relaxing under mine, moving with infinite care against my mouth for one single breath. His tongue touched mine, gentle. I pressed harder—Whit stiffened and then moved away.
His breathing was harsh, his words hoarse. “Like I’ve said, Señorita Olivera.” He kept his expression flat and guarded. “There’s nothing between us. There can never be.”
I sat back on my heels, breathing hard. The taste of him still in my mouth.
“I’m getting married.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I have a betrothed,” he said in a cool voice, his fists clenched tight against his thighs.
The word landed in a thud between us.Betrothed.
My cheeks warmed as I stood, turning and scrambling toward the opening, desperate to create distance between us. Miles would been preferable, but I’d settle for my room. I’d made a terrible mistake, how could I have been so silly as to—
“Señorita Olivera,” he whispered.
I stopped, my hand curled around the itchy fabric of the curtain.
