The Abducted Heart (Sweetly Contemporary Collection) Read Online Free PDF Page B

the señor helped Anne out. The car slid away just as the front door was thrown open, spilling a square of light toward them like a welcome mat.
    “Ah, María,” the señor exclaimed, catching sight of the short, squat woman framed in the opening. A brief conversation in rapid Spanish followed as they stepped inside, then the señor turned to introduce Anne to the woman.
    “Miss Matthews, this is my housekeeper, María. She will show you to your room and make you comfortable. If there is anything you need, you have only to ask for it.”
    Murmuring her thanks, Anne smiled at the Spanish woman in her black dress covered by a white apron trimmed with red embroidery. No answering smile warmed that austere, censorious face. The woman turned in the direction of a wide staircase with polished treads and heavily carved balusters that rose against one wall of the entrance hall. Anne, preparing to follow her, glanced curiously at the wainscoted walls topped by wide expanses of cool white plaster enlivened by paintings.
    The ceiling was high, ornamented with a wide, molded frieze and a center medallion. Hanging from this by a thick chain was a chandelier of dark wood and multicolored glass. The colors were repeated in the glowing amber, red, brown, and black of the Persian carpet lying beneath it on the floor. There was a scent in the air of roses, the beeswax used to polish furniture, and the indefinable smell of old buildings.
    “María?” the señor called. When the woman halted and turned, he continued in Spanish that carried the firm tone of command.
    “Sí, señor,” the woman replied when he finished speaking, though her face, if possible, seemed set in lines of even deeper disapproval.
    Anne looked from the señor to his housekeeper. Mistrust gathered in her gold-flecked eyes. “What did you tell her?” she asked.
    “I only directed her to put you in the french bedroom,” he said, his expression perfectly serious except for the mocking lift of one dark brow. “It is a room in the portion of the house farthest from that of my grandmother so that the noise of your arrival and departure will not disturb her. What María finds not to her liking is that it is also only one door removed from my own bedroom. You must forgive her. She is not used to her master bringing young, attractive women of unexplained background home with him. Also, she is from the country, from the quinta, or farm, of my ancestors, and easily shocked.”
    “I must see what I can do to put her mind at rest then,” Anne told him.
    “Try, by all means,” he answered with a slight inclination of his head, “though you may find it hard going. María has no English.”
    Annoyance brought a flush of color to Anne’s cheeks. “You could make the situation plain to her if you wanted to.”
    “So I could, if I were willing to discuss my affairs with my servants, or allow them to be the arbiters of my actions.”
    There was no answer to that. Compressing her lips, Anne turned away, but the arrogance stamped on his dark Spanish-Indian features remained in her memory for some time.
    The bedroom she was shown into was not what she had expected. Considering the Spanish colonial style of the rest of the home, she had thought to find something similar, though perhaps not so darkly ornamental. Instead, she discovered elegance. The bed was a creation of brass and bone china with four posts, the two at the head rising to form a half-canopy. The china fittings on the posts, the footboard, and headboard were painted with delicate nosegays of pink roses and violets. Rose silk bedhangings were draped from the half-canopy, and drapes of the same material hung at the windows over muslin undercurtains. The dressing table and wardrobe had the graceful lines of the Louis-Quinze period, a style that blended perfectly with the cream and green and rose of the Aubusson rug.
    The amenities in the connecting bath were in keeping with the decor. The washbasin of white china had