“You humble me with your favor.” Then he whispered, “Thank you, Aunt Valentine.”
“You’ve earned it,” she whispered back. She lifted his chin with her fan and gestured to the ballroom floor. “The first dance is starting now. I suggest you two make your way to the middle.”
Jasmine curtsied to him, and he offered his arm to her. Her fingertips touched his sleeve near his elbow. Not enough pressure to touch him, but close enough to tease his nose with her scent and feel the warmth of her body.
“I missed you,” she whispered.
Suffocating longing hit him like a punch to the stomach. Undone by her three words, another three formed in his mind, but he couldn’t speak them. Not until the time wasright.
Helplessly, he spoke the only three he could.
“I missedyou.”
The orchestra played The Duke of Kent’s Waltz. Dancing across from each other in a line, they wove between partners to their left, and then returned to each other. His palms brushed hers in the space between them, followed by a graze of fingertips as they parted. When he held her hand to twirl her under his arm, she inhaled with a hiss. Anytime her wrist turned, she winced.
Was he hurting her?
Disconcerted at her pain, but unable to ask, he gentled his touch.
The dance allowed for conversation in fragmented sentences. Remembering Zeke’s advice about her interests, Matthew asked, “What is your favorite food?”
“Pollo al chilindrón.”
“Pollo al…?”
“Chilindrón.”She slowly spoke each syllable. “Why?”
“I would like to try it.”
Her lip quirked. “You don’t know what it is.”
“I know it’s chicken.” He stepped away from her and changed partners. Another turn, and she was in his hold once more. “Can it be made in London?”
“You don’t want to eat it here. An English chef would never matchAbuela’scooking.”
“Doyouknow how to make it?”
“Not as good as she does, but yes.” She puffed out her chest. “She taught me while I was living with her in Zarautz.”
“Could you teach me?”
“Have you ever been inside of a kitchen?”
“Several times.”
“Do you know how to cook?”
“Not at all, but I’m good with my hands, Lady Jasmine,” Matthew teased, “and I’m a fast learner. While we cook, you can teach me more Spanish.”
“I’m surprised you’re not fluent. Didn’t they teach you in school?”
“I knowsomeSpanish,” he admitted. “But I want to speak it the way you do.” He whispered, so slight only she would hear it, “Teach me how to roll my r’s.”
A blush graced the apples of Jasmine’s cheeks, and she moved closer until her toes touched his. She whispered just as softly, “I’ll teach you tomorrow.”
He smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”
He bowed to her when the song ended. She took his arm as gently as she had before, but she walked half a step closer.