Alexandra’s stomach had been beset with a host of butterflies at the thought of the day stretching ahead with him, particularly after he’d helped her into the car with a gentle hand to the small of her back, sending a tingling frisson up her spine. She glanced at Sarita, the maid, huddled in the back, and felt self-conscious. Well, she supposed that was the point of her presence, a chaperone to uphold the family’s honour, but as she and Salvador would be alone all day, it seemed a bit of an empty gesture on her grandmother’s part and having Sarita there did little to calm her nerves. Surprisingly, Salvador quickly put her at her ease as they drove through the countryside. He was full of animated and amusing conversation about the surroundings, the Spanish and the delights of Seville that awaited them. Now and again he turned his head to stare at her appraisingly, making her pulse jolt. It was his open, unapologetic, Latin temperament, she told herself, though its intimacy disconcerted her.
