Eighteen
Apollo had been in the process of scheming an escape from a mind-numbingly boring conversation with the very lovely, but astonishingly bland, Senorita Patino when he spotted a flash of rumpled rust-colored fabric, concealing the pert bottom he’d become intimately familiar with in the last week, dashing toward his gardens.
Barely an hour into the blasted charity event and he’d descended to a virtually vegetative state from the endless string of dull conversations his aunt had pulled him into, but the moment he caught a glimpse of dark coils flashing through the crowd, everything inside him roared to life. The effect Aurora Montalban had on him was something to be studied. He’d been practically dozing off, and suddenly he was alert, primed for battle. It was as if he could feel the blood rushing to his head, his limbs…his cock.
“What are your opinions on ladies riding astride, Your Grace?” Graziella Patino inquired, her big gray eyes fringed with lovely eyelashes focused on him just so. “It’s become astonishingly popular,” she tittered coquettishly while he contemplated which corner of his garden would best serve the intentions he had for Aurora Montalban’s tasty morsel of a body.
He was still staring at the door she’d disappeared through when Don Simón cleared his throat impatiently. “I can’t say I have given ladies’ riding habits much thought, Senorita,” Apollo said, and watched her smile fade a bit. She did seem like the type to subscribe as closely as possible to the rules. Then again, so had Aurora, and he’d been very pleasantly disabused from that misconception. “In any case, I’d leave it up to the lady to decide how she wants to use her saddle.”
“Of course you’re correct, Your Grace,” the heiress capitulated, doe-eyed and malleable, without even an attempt to contradict him.
He imagined what Doctora Montalban would have to say about men telling women how they could ride a horse or anything else, and from there his mind descended straight into the gutter. Heat suffused him and his head was virtually inundated with images of how the doctor had ridden him, quite energetically, a few nights earlier.
Demonios, he had to go find her. The little diabla hadn’t even stopped to say hello. He should’ve expected that. She was probably making herself mad imagining all sorts of things. He knew she’d be nervous about the speech, and he’d tried to be attentive to her arrival, but his aunt had been on a mission tonight. In fact, she was walking toward him just then with that fop Forsyth. There was something that didn’t quite sit right with him about the man.
“Ah, sobrino,” his aunt exclaimed, with a happy smile on her lips. This was a common occurrence when Forsyth was present, which made it harder to openly dislike the man. “Look who has arrived all the way from London.” While they did their round of introductions with the Patinos, Apollo examined her aunt’s beau with barely concealed distaste.
“Forsyth,” he said tightly as the man offered him a hand. He was younger than his aunt, by a dozen years or so. A for mer Royal Navy officer and a handsome enough sort. With a recently acquired barony that came with land and a modest annuity, Forsyth was certainly a catch. When Apollo had pointed this out, the man had confessed that after spending over a decade on assignments throughout the Americas, he simply did not see himself with a young British bride. Apollo could not begrudge the man for his predilections when he’d spent the last month chasing after a short-assed Dominican-Mexican whirlwind in lieu of procuring his own English rose.
It was not that he didn’t think the Englishman could fancy his aunt. After all, Jimena Robles Vda. de Salazar was not only a beautiful woman, but a wealthy one. He wanted his aunt to be happy, heavens knew she deserved it after the time she’d had at the end of his uncle’s life. Apollo just wasn’t certain this Lord Forsyth was the right man for her.
“Your Grace.” Forsyth grinned as he gripped Apollo’s hand a little too forcefully.
“I should’ve known you’d be with the prettiest girl here,” his aunt exclaimed in a teasing tone, sending a knowing look toward Graziella, who blushed prettily before hiding those guileless gray eyes. The gesture only served to remind him of the fiery chocolate regard of the woman who’d never give up her freedom for the cage of propriety and society rules he came with. Apollo endeavored to give his aunt a smile, but it was becoming harder to pretend he had any interest in this plan of hers to find him a duchess.
He didn’t need a duchess who was only there as an amenable trophy. He wanted a partner, a coconspirator. He thought of Evan and Luz Alana. The way his brother went to his wife to consult her on every weighty decision. The trust he placed in her judgment, how he valued her advice. Perhaps Apollo had gone about this all wrong. After his father died, it seemed vital to make a strong alliance through marriage. To find a duchess whose family connections and fortune would cement his status in the world where he now existed. But lately, he wondered if what he needed was a woman strong enough to stand with him in the treacherous paths he would be treading. The face of a ferocious, rebellious physician came to mind, and suddenly, all he wanted was to see her.
“Thank you for a lovely talk, Don Simón,” he told the older man, who was occupied discussing maritime commercial routes with Forsyth. The old man smiled amiably as Apollo turned to his daughter. “Senorita Graziella, encantado.” She blushed again when he kissed her satin glove.
“Where are you going?” his aunt asked, barely concealing her disapproval.
“I must go see about our guest of honor,” he said, smiling at Don Simón. The business magnate didn’t seem very interested, but Graziella’s eyes lit up.
“I’m quite eager to hear from the doctora,” she said with open admiration. “What a fascinating thing, a woman doctor.”
“I will make sure to introduce you,” Apollo offered, noticing Forsyth’s sneer at the young woman’s comment. One more reason to dislike the man.
Apollo made his escape only after agreeing to tea and something to do with a pianoforte and Graziella in the near future. By the time he went outside, his skin was buzzing with eagerness to find his quarry.
The air of the garden was slightly chilled for September. There were guests milling about in the better-lit areas surrounding the house. It took some doing to find her. A few turns in the dark, but he finally discovered her by the vines of pasionaria, coldly deploying exquisitely crafted taunts at two very soberly dressed, mustachioed gentlemen who did not seem up to the challenge of that very sharp tongue. She had her hands on her hips, and in profile, he could make out the lines of her. That generous bosom was angled quite menacingly as she leaned forward to deliver insults.
Apollo was not a fanciful man, and the last years had involved more scheming and lying than any honest one ought to be embroiled in. It had all left him quite devoid of romantic notions. But the sight of that wisp of a woman in a rumpled walking suit, which was surely an insult to fashion everywhere, unleashed something in him he should’ve heeded as the harbinger it was.
“Has it occurred to one of you that my poor attitude has more to do with your idiocy than my lack of humor?” She was furious, her gaze hot enough to burn.
“If we are so idiotic, why were we the ones invited by the academy to present our findings here?” one of the mustachioed fellows shot back. Apollo took a step forward, ready to take up her defense, but Aurora was quick to return the barb.
“Oh, I don’t know, Rosales.” Every word out her mouth dripped with condescension. “Perhaps because half the academy is filled with maidenhead-obsessed imbeciles like the two of you.” The laugh escaped him before he could control it, but the mighty Doctora Montalban was much too focused on her opponents to notice. The other two were busy spluttering nonsense about her insolence and the “place of women,” which he was certain they’d come to regret in short order.
His Fiera did not disappoint.
“Why would they care to hear me speak on how they’ve dismantled a perfectly sound system of women’s health for profit when they have you two clowns on a stage parroting nonsense about hymenology and virginity math equations?” That time she almost lost her cool demeanor. He saw her struggling to keep from lunging forward. He was so enthralled witnessing this tableau he almost missed what one of the Hymen Brothers said, until he noticed her reaction to it.
“Why must you always be so angry, Montalban?” She flinched at the insult, her chin trembling with anger. It was the same shattered expression she’d had that night with her brothers. And he’d had enough.
“Because I’m constantly forced to deal with the likes of you, Castaneda,” she shot back, as Apollo moved toward the trio, but she’d lost her bluster. Castaneda seemed aware of the fact, because he took a menacing step in her direction.
“If you two gentlemen are attached to your teeth and skulls, I’d advise against coming even an inch closer to Doctora Montalban,” he called out as he stepped into the light. It took quite a lot of restraint not to brain the two fops against the flagstone.
The pair, who at closer range seemed to be bafflingly matching in their suits, shot him disgruntled looks but quickly blanched when they realized who they were glaring at.
Good, let the Hymen Brothers quake a bit in their boots.
The Valkyrie he told himself he was protecting stepped out from behind the vine, looking thoroughly unimpressed and muttering things under her breath about dukes and comemierdas no lady ever would.
“Your Grace,” she told him with all the sweetness of a Brazilian piranha.
“Doctora, are you in need of my assistance?” He infused the question with a drop or two of suggestiveness. Then his attention drifted to the bottom lip he knew she’d been biting. By the time his gaze arrived at the spot at the base of her throat he liked to dip his tongue into, he could hear the Hymen Brothers scurrying away. “Seems like I’ve scared them off,” he told her, taking the last step he needed to press their bodies together.
“I had that in hand, Annan,” she informed him, with a growl.
“You certainly did, you glorious thing,” he whispered, as he wrapped her in his arms. It took him a moment to notice she wasn’t exactly melting into his touch. He frowned when he noticed her arms hanging stiffly by her sides. Had those two bastards actually done something to her? “What’s wrong?” he asked, sweeping a hand over her arms, only to have it swatted away by a very cantankerous Aurora.
“Why are you always trampling into places unannounced?” she demanded, very far from the amorous mood he’d hoped to find her in.
“I like to make my presence known,” he retorted in the tone he used when they engaged in their wordplay. This usually somewhat thawed her to his flirtation.
So far, there were no puddles he could see. In fact, she looked positively indignant.
“Being the size of a building doesn’t do it?” she shot back with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Now you’re just jealous because you get mistaken for a child all the time.” He was certain that would induce at least an uptick of her mouth, but she was not budging.
“Did you invite those two buffoons to torture me?” she asked him, then took a step back when he reached for her. Now he understood the trouble. He should’ve been more attentive to the people his aunt had sent invitations to, but he’d been much too caught up with the tropical storm currently seething at him.
“We invited most doctors from the Americas in Paris for the exposition,” he reminded her, but that only made her eyes narrow further. How could she see at all through those slits?
“I suppose you were more focused on the female guests, or was the senorita Patino also your aunt’s guest?” Was that jealousy?
Something a lot like satisfaction panged hard in his chest. But he knew this was very delicate ground. If he inquired why she’d mentioned Miss Patino in a less than friendly fashion, she would either deny it or become even more cross. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if she took off and ran.
“Her father was one of my guests,” he finally said, hoping this would be enough to be allowed within a foot of her person. “And I was much too distracted watching you trample through my house to pay attention to much of what she said.”
“Liar,” she groused, with her mouth pursed tight.
“This reminds me of the first time we met,” he told her, recalling the soiree at the Mexican Pavilion of the Exposition Universelle, when he’d found her standing outside another party.
“You were also a cad then,” she pointed out, but allowed him to wrap his arms around her waist.
“I was also the one on the wrong end of an Aurora Montalban tongue-lashing.” He leaned down and traced the tip of his own tongue over the delicate shell of her ear. “And to think how fond I’ve become of them.”
“You were insufferable,” she huffed, looking up at him with slighted chocolate eyes.
“I was trying to be friendly,” he cajoled, as his hands lowered to that lush rump and squeezed, coaxing a sweet moan from her.
“You made fun of my clothes,” she said, pressing her own lips to his neck, turning his hardening cock to stone.
“Watch yourself, Doctora,” he grunted when she added teeth. “And you insulted my suit.” He dug the pads of his fingers into her derriere and she made a lusty little sound with her throat. “I recall the words demented dandy and public menace being tossed in my direction.” That impish grin finally made an appearance and Apollo began to wonder why he hadn’t just written a check and bedded her in lieu of all this.
“What I recall saying was that you were too pretty,” she informed him as he remembered the way she’d stood up to him. That heart-shaped face pugnacious and fierce as she told him he was “ridiculously pretty.” She’d flicked her hand and shaken her head at him as if attractive people were the latest in a long line of quandaries she’d been forced to deal with, and he’d barely known what to do with himself.
“Mmm.” Something possessive erupted inside at the memory, and he gathered her closer. “I think I remember you lavishing compliments on my sensual mouth and fine jaw, Fiera. You might have even suggested a tryst.”
“I did not!” She swatted at him, but he caught her wrist and bit her finger, which made her go soft in his arms. God, but she was damned beddable. “I said —” she made her eyes big, and that swirling heat took up in his belly again “—that you were probably out there trysting with some poor girl.” She did say that, but what she didn’t know was that, just like tonight, he’d been out there because of her.
He’d seen her at the soiree with her bellicose way of glaring at every person who crossed her path. Defiantly indifferent to the fact that she was horrifyingly underdressed as she stuffed her mouth with cocadas. After months of uninspiring conversation with beautiful girls with very little dreams beyond the house they’d keep for him, Aurora Montalban was the singular most intriguing thing he’d seen in Paris.
She still was, and that was becoming an increasingly unavoidable fact for Apollo.
The sounds of two people hurrying through the darkness jolted Apollo out of his reverie and reminded them both they were a bit exposed to the elements.
“I was out here rehearsing my speech, and you’ve distracted me,” Aurora groused as she set herself to rights, with a scowl on her face.
“A rebel like you, nervous?” he asked, earning the cut of her eye.
“No woman wants to be a rebel, Apollo,” she told him with a tired sweep of her hand. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy my work,” she told him. “I like how good I am at it and mostly I do it because it helps women in need. But I am a Black woman born in Hispaniola and raised in Mexico who managed to become a licensed physician.” There was as much pride as there was exhaustion in her voice. “I have amassed my share of battle scars.”
The truth came upon him like a blow to the head. He could not keep her. He could not drag this woman into a world that would constantly make her feel as though she did not belong.
“You wear them well, Doctora,” he told her, when everything else he wished to say breached every rule the two of them had agreed on.
“That, Your Grace, was the perfect thing to say.” She smiled at him, and it was a sweet one, and took his hand. “Come on, now I must truly practice this blasted speech.”