Golden Paradise (Vincente 1) Read Online Free PDF

seated herself on the marble bench and folded her hands in her lap. The poor creature was so short that her legs dangled in the air and she was unable to touch ground.
    Eleanor was watching Isabel try to work her magic on this tall, handsome Californian. She had seen her sister weave spells about men many times in the past. While growing up in Spain, Isabel had always been surrounded by admirers.
    Through veiled lashes, Eleanor saw the pity reflected in the eyes of Marquis Vincente when he looked at her. At that moment, he did a strange thing that would endear him to the young girl for life. Marquis picked a delicate purple bloom and handed it to her.
    "The beauty of the flower will soon fade, but the beauty of one's heart will long endure," Marquis said. Eleanor blinked in astonishment. He had just recited her favorite poem. None of her sister's gentlemen friends had ever paid the slightest attention to her. This man was different from all the others. She was loath to see him caught in Isabel's web.
    Isabel snapped her fan open and shut in irritation. "One would think you wanted to marry my sister instead of me, Senor Vincente," she hissed. "Do you find my sister more desirable than I?" she asked spitefully.
    Marquis did not try to hide the look of disbelief that spread over his face. He could not understand Isabel's uncharitable attitude toward her own sister. Did she not care that the young girl was living under her shadow, torturing herself because she was not beautiful?
    He thought of his young sister, Rosalia, who had been raised with love and understanding. His smile was warm as he lifted Eleanor's hand to his lips, softly placing a kiss on the palm. "I believe there is more to your sister than meets the eye, Senorita Isabel. I would like to be her friend."
    Isabel raged on the inside as her sister giggled in delight. Knowing she must cover up her anger, Isabel tried to smile, hiding her fanatical rage. "Is this where we will live when we are married, senor?" she asked, lowering her lashes, again pretending maidenly shyness.
    "Yes, of course. The west side of the house has always belonged to the oldest son of the family. The next time you come for a visit, I will show you around the house. You may want to do some rearranging or redecorating."
    "Why are we not to occupy the main part of the house?" Isabel asked.
    "Because my grandfather is the grandee, that is still his domain."
    Marquis Vincente was polite and said all the correct things, but Isabel could sense that he was not drawn to her as so many other men had been. "I'm sure the west wing will be lovely, senor," she said, meeting his glance with boldness. "Will this garden be accessible from our rooms:
    "Yes. If you will look over to the right just above the fountain, you will see the balcony off the master suite. There are stairs from the balcony leading into the garden." He paused. "It has always been the custom for the Vincente men to bring their wives to the west wing."
    "Is it not wrongly called a wing? Your home is built in a square around a courtyard," Isabel observed.
    "I know it appears so, but the way it is set up on the inside makes it a wing." Marquis knew they were saying unimportant things, feeling each other out.
    "Could we not see the rooms today?" Isabel urged. She wanted to spend time with this man who was to be her husband. She wanted to make him fall in love with her. She had the strangest feeling he didn't like her. She had had many lovers in Spain but had always been discreet, and she hoped Marquis hadn't heard about her past.
    Suddenly Marquis felt an urge to get away from Isabel. He knew he would face his grandfather's displeasure later for being rude, but he would chance it. "I hope you will accept my apology, Senorita Isabel, but I have to leave right away. I told my mother I would meet her at the mission and escort her home."
    "Must you go?" she asked with a pout on her lips.
    "Unfortunately, yes. I would not want my mother and sister