gypsy hoops to her low-heeled leather sandals. “You look...nice.” He paused before the last word as if he’d been about to say something else.
“Thanks. This is about as dressed-up as you’ll see me while I’m here.”
“Oh?” Emilio poured his coffee and took a sip. “That’s too bad because I’m planning a party next weekend to welcome you and my brother’s son to Peru. I was looking forward to seeing you in an evening dress.”
“Oh, but I didn’t bring—”
“Of course you wouldn’t have packed a gown. But there are fine shops in Cusco. My driver can take you after you’re settled in.”
Dolores had come outside with a tray of beautifully cut tropical fruits—pineapple, mango, melon and banana. “It’s almost too pretty to eat!” Grace speared several pieces for her plate.
“Get used to it. When it comes to food, Dolores is a true artist. The two girls you met are her nieces. She’s training them to take her place one day—as her father trained her in this very kitchen.”
The food kept coming—airy scrambled eggs, crisp slabs of bacon, seasoned black beans, fried potatoes and buttered corn muffins. Everything was so delicious that Grace had to push herself away from the table. “Heavens, do you eat like this every day?” she asked.
Emilio had been watching her devour breakfast, a knowing twinkle in his eyes. “Again, you’ll get accustomed to it. In the city, meals are more like what you’re used to. But here in Urubamba we follow tradition—a hearty breakfast to start the day, a light lunch around two o’clock followed by a siesta—when there’s time for it, at least. Then at night, around nine o’clock, we dress up and gather for dinner. It’s all very civilized.”
He finished his plate and put his napkin on the table. “If you’re finished I’d like to show you the countryside. By chance, do you ride?”
Ride? Grace’s stomach clenched with instinctive fear. She forced her mouth into a smile. “I rode as a teenager. But I haven’t been on a horse in fifteen years. I’m not sure if I even remember how. If you don’t mind, I’ll walk.”
“Nonsense!” he exclaimed, his insistence tightening the knot in her stomach. “We’ll have a lot of ground to cover—too much to travel on foot—and nobody forgets how to ride. I’ll find you the gentlest horse in the stable.” He glanced down at her bare legs. “You’ll want to put on long pants.”
Grace rose. It would be simpler to tell him the truth. But the truth was too private, too personal to share. The only other choice was facing stark, paralyzing panic.
“See you back here in fifteen minutes,” he said. “I’ll find you a hat, and I’ll check on the boy for you.”
His name is Zac, she wanted to remind him. But her fear-constricted throat refused to form the words.
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