Summer's Bride

The other woman was watching her closely and Genevieve could not hold that gaze, for fear of the woman’s reading all that had passed between her and Marcel. She suspected that Constanza knew more of the truth of the situation than she had been told.

Loving Marcel as she must, Constanza would surely feel that something was wrong between Marcel and Genevieve. Loving him as she did, and feeling that he loved her in return.

Genevieve’s heart twisted in her chest at the thought of their feelings for each other. Again she told herself that she was a fool, a poor mad fool. It did her no good to pine for a man who loved another, who had not had the decency to make his position clear before kissing her.

Hopelessly she moved to stare out the portal.

The other woman’s gentle voice interrupted her tortured thoughts. “You must be tired and hungry. Sit and I will get us some food, por favor.”

Genevieve spun around to look at her, knowing that her surprise must be obvious. “You are concerned for my comfort?”

The other woman’s brown eyes measured her with a surprising depth of kindness. “Of course. You have been through much.”

Genevieve looked away. She did not know what to say, could not even understand her own tumultuous emotions. She went to the long bench beside the table and sat down, drawing her knees up to hold them tightly against her.

Misery gripped her, making her throat tight and her chest ache. She was determined not to cry. Not in front of Marcel’s woman.