Golden Roses by Patricia Hagan

Author:Patricia Hagan [Hagan, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2012-11-19T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Amber forced herself to look at the ring. It would, she knew, take determination to learn to watch Armand in the ring without being terrified. But she would do it. He would expect it. Her new resolve was, she decided, smiling to herself, the one good thing about coming to Mexico. She was learning to be a woman, a strong woman.

Astride horses, the picadors made their challenges to the bull. “The junior picador will make the first delivery,” Diego told her. “See how he drives the small, sharp metal point of his lance into the tossing muscle as the bull charges?”

“Ahah!” he cried suddenly. “More lancing is required. He is a strong one, this bull.”

Valdis clapped his hands, and Amber looked to Diego for an explanation. “As the bull’s breeder, he beams with pride,” he told her matter-of-factly, “for his animal has the strength and bravery to push the picadors around. See? Señor Alezparito has reason to be proud.”

Averting her gaze as a horse was grazed, Amber wondered, “But doesn’t that mean the bull is unusually fierce?”

Diego did not answer her, for at that moment Armand appeared in the ring again. Diego said, “It is obvious Armand intends to be the star. Now you shall see some dexterous capework. Armand is known for his art with the cape.”

Amber watched, fascinated, as Armand waved his cape at the bull. Then, as the bull made his pass, Armand turned, quickly wrapping the cloth about his body in a sweeping, poetic movement. With a dramatic sweep of scarlet satin, Armand whipped about to cut off the return charge.

The screams split the air: “Olé! Olé!”

Diego waved an arm toward the spirited throng. “They adore him.”

Now Armand turned and strode to the waiting bearer, who handed him a stick over which a small piece of red cloth had been wrapped twice. Carrying his sword and muleta in one hand, Armand removed his montera from his head and marched toward a box on the far side of the ring, making a gesture. This was part of the ritual, as Armand asked permission of the plaza authority to kill the bull. Permission was granted. But instead of returning to the bull, Armand turned and strode purposefully to the box where Amber was sitting.

He stopped directly below, eyes warm and happy as he looked up at her, smiling. With precise aim, he threw his hat, landing it once again precisely in her lap. Hundreds of people looked to see to whom their favorite matador had dedicated his kill.

Valdis and Maretta, their expressions identical rage, turned to stare at Amber. Diego shrugged, barely managing to conceal his annoyance. “Well, señorita. Do you accept the dedication? He awaits a signal. You must do something. Either acknowledge his dedication or return his hat.”

As she returned Armand’s adoring gaze, Amber knew she wanted to accept his gesture. Remembering the late-blooming rose she had selected from the bouquet on her dressing table, she removed it quickly from her bodice. Standing, she pressed the flower to her lips, then tossed it down to Armand.

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