The scent of rosewater hithim first. Then came the soft smells of vanilla, lavender, leather, and horsehair, a special sort of aroma that belonged only to her. He couldn’t help but breathe deeper.
Antonina leaned into her and whispered into her ear. She covered her hand to conceal what she was saying, but Lalo heard her clearly.
“Looks like he’s prepared for a winter storm,” she said.
Carolina snorted. “The poor man’s face is growing redder by the second.”
The two giggled.
Stars, she was beautiful. He’d only ever truly seen her at night or when clouds covered the skies. But here, with the light of day highlighting her rosy cheeks, she was like a goddess walking among them.
“You’re staring,” Fernanda whispered.
Lalo’s head snapped toward his sister. “I am not.” He absolutely had been. But sometimes such things could not be helped. Carolina was like a solar eclipse.
Carolina descended the stairs and offered a quick bow. “Lalo, Fernanda, to what do we owe the pleasure?”
Carolina’s mother was the one to answer. “The Montézes will be staying with us for the time being. It seems the beast who killed our men traveled too close to their home for anyone’s liking.”
“I see.” Carolina nodded.
“Lalo?” Carolina’s mother eyed his clothing. “Would you like Luz Elena to take your coat?” She gestured toward an older woman with pearly white braids.
Saints, yes, he would.He’d soon be drowning in his own sweat because of the many layers he bore, but he couldn’t risk his skin coming in contact with any of the dozens of windows glaring down at him throughout the sprawling casa. Luckily, his perspiration seemed to be somewhat normal, unlike the inky tears he’d shed in the cemetery.
“Actually, I’m not feeling my best. My mother always told me to sweat out the sickness. Hence, this absurd outfit,” he said, chuckling and gesturing to himself. “May I excuse myself to whatever room I will be staying in?”
“You poor thing.” Señora Fuentes’s hand went to the top of her chest, just under her collarbone. A tiny vein throbbed at the side of her neck. His mouth watered. His thirst dug into his intestines and twisted them in knots. Suddenly, all the scents in the room were becoming overwhelming. The heartbeats, the blood, their essences—they were practically begging to be devoured.
Señora Fuentes turned to the woman by her side. “Luz Elena, please escort Lalo to Tía Morena’s old room at once.”
“I’ll do it!” Carolina blurted out.
Antonina snickered.
Señora Fuentes quirked an eyebrow. “Mija, I don’t think that is appropriate.”
“Papá went out of his way to ensure Lalo and Fernanda were safe, which means he must care about their safety. That also means he must approve of Lalo. And if that is the case, are we not practically betrothed?”
Señora Fuentes didn’t seem convinced. Lalo wished she would be, and soon. His pulse thumped hard against his skull. He was so thirsty and hot. If he didn’t get out of this coat and have some of the blood Fernanda packed in his bag, he might lose control.
Fernanda, ever astute, spoke up. “Señora Fuentes, I noticed a glorious painting in the ballroom the last time we were here. I’ve been dying to ask you about the piece ever since.”
Señora Fuentes’s light brown face lit from within. “Would you believe me if I said I painted it?”
Fernanda gasped. “You are kidding?”
“You must show her, tía,” Antonina chimed in. “You really are so talented.”
“This is why you are my favorite niece,” Señora Fuentes said with a warm smile.
Antonina laughed as she took her tía’s and Fernanda’s arms. “Let’s bring her to your art room.”
“Yes, please do!” Fernanda said.
As the others left, trailing behind the chatting women, Carolina gestured toward the western wing of the casa. “This way, Lalo.”
Luz Elena shuffled after them.
