“Thank you, gentlemen. Yes, these are the ones to go and then you can bring in the new furniture.”

“New furniture?” Rey asked, looking askance at his fiancée. What on earth was she thinking? New furniture in a hospital waiting room?

“Yes,” she said, stepping out of the way of the two men as they stacked up the vinyl-coated chairs and loaded them onto the empty trolley before bringing in a very comfortable-looking three-seater sofa and two recliners, together with a set of highly polished side tables and a small credenza. “New furniture. No one can possibly be comfortable on those things.” She gestured to the trolley outside the door. “Besides, if I’d only gotten the one recliner for Abuelo he would have refused to use it, wouldn’t he?”

There was no argument there. The old man would have sat on the floor rather than admit that his age and infirmity granted him the privilege of a more comfortable seat than anyone else.

“Of course, you are right,” Rey acknowledged, sidestepping one of the maintenance crew who was positioning the credenza against a wall near a power socket. “He most definitely would have refused it.”

It was astute of Sara to have picked up that so quickly—she’d only met the del Castillo patriarch yesterday—astute and caring of an old man’s need for comfort. Rey gave her a narrowed glance. Since when did she get so perceptive? When she smiled back in response, he felt an unexpected rush of something new toward Sara, something warm and heart deep. The sensation took him by surprise and made him a little uncomfortable at the same time. He was unused to feeling this way about a woman. Usually he indulged in what became a mutually satisfying physical affair. He always played all the right moves to ensure that each of his companions were made to feel special and treasured for however long he planned to spend with them. With Sara it had been no different, until she’d returned from France, that is.

It was as if she was two different people, or as if the Sara he’d asked to become his fiancée, carefully couching the proposal as “let’s get engaged” so there was no actual mention of marriage, had changed while she’d been away. The differences were both disconcerting and appealing at the same time.

It was because of Benedict’s accident, he told himself. It couldn’t possibly be anything else. She hadn’t changed, it was just his perception of her that was different, given his state of mind. His emotions were all over the place at the thought that one of his beloved brothers, no matter their occasional differences, could be lost to them.

But even as he tried to convince himself of this, he couldn’t help asking himself whether the Sara he’d known before would have thought so far ahead to an elderly man’s comfort, not to mention his pride, let alone to have conjured up an espresso machine together with a small refrigerator to store fresh, healthy snacks and milk for all the family.

Maybe he’d misjudged her. Even as he thought of it, the notion refused to make sense. Reynard trusted his people sense. It was an indispensable business skill that he’d spent years developing. He knew what Sara was like—had known ever since he’d met her at the annual del Castillo–sponsored equestrian trials. But how could one woman be so completely different? On the one hand, the life of the party—fun and flirtatious—then on the other, kind and compassionate and imbued with a warmth that went straight to people’s hearts. It wasn’t logical. The Sara he knew was taking her responsibility to him and his family far more seriously than he’d ever intended. Now, he was starting to believe that she was hardly the type to simply laugh and brush off a broken engagement, either. While he had no desire to actually marry her, a sudden protective surge warned him that he had no desire to hurt her, either.

What if he really married her, a little voice asked from deep inside. No, he quelled the thought immediately. That wasn’t part of the plan. He didn’t believe in the curse so it shouldn’t matter whether he was engaged or married, or anything for that matter. He’d never given the state of marriage a great deal of thought—it was just something he knew would happen “one day”—but he did know that when he finally embarked on such a course, he’d be doing it because he was ready, not at the behest of a frightened old man, no matter how much he loved his grandfather. Despite his inner demons he had to acknowledge that he had begun to crave Sara in ways he’d never done before.

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