Maggie yawned, rolled on her side and propped her head on her hand. “Are you working some sort of a Gypsy love spell?”
“Would I admit it if I were?”
His amused gaze told the whole story. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t. Just tell me if there is such a thing.”
He combed her hair through his fingers. “Yes and n
o. My grandmother supported us by selling all sorts of magic potions, which were herb-scented water in fancy little bottles with cork stoppers. Some must have worked, and if anyone complained that theirs didn’t, she’d sell them a stronger version for twice the price.”
“Which was again nothing more than herb-scented water?”
“Yes, she didn’t want to poison anyone. Gypsies may take advantage of people to survive, but we aren’t evil.”
She burrowed into her pillow. “That’s a comfort.”
A smile twitched in the corner of his mouth. How open he’d become from the man she’d first met. It might still be an act, but if so, it was a damn good one. Her motives weren’t pure either. She’d be going home soon and could remember him as a romantic adventure, if not so much more. She hauled herself into a sitting position and leaned back against the headboard.
“I’ll make the effort to join everyone for dinner. When you ask about the time, will you please see if Ana bought me a dress or shoes? I’d rather put them on now than have to change into them later.”
“You’re a very practical woman.”
She raised her chin in a stubborn tilt. “It’s not a flaw.”
He leaned in to kiss her, then stood. “Now look who’s picking fights. One of us ought to be practical.”
“And what are you?”
His dark gaze swept over her. “Merely a Gypsy dancer, and we’re an unpredictable and impractical lot.” He stamped his heels and returned to his room through the convenient bathroom doorway.
If he were working some sort of Gypsy magic, she bet it was with his cologne. Maybe it was based on an ancient Gypsy formula. That it was made for her father didn’t matter. It was a scent that attracted women, and maybe neither man really needed it with their looks and charm, but it sure didn’t hurt their cause.
“Rafael, did you have any relatives named Simone?”
He came to the doorway wearing a pair of dress pants. “That’s a French name. My mother’s name was Carlotta, and my grandmother was Delores. My sister was Maria Lourdes, and we called her MaLou. I’ve never met a Simone.”
“Good. Augustín has a drawing of a woman named Simone in the back of his second journal. If your mother liked wealthy men, she might have known him.”
“No, he would have known my grandmother. What were you thinking, that I might be your father’s half brother? Would that make me your half uncle? If there is such a thing. You can tell from looking at me that I’m not an Aragon.”
She remained in bed and stretched lazily. “True. I was just thinking of beautiful Gypsies, not linking our families. Although it is a scary thought.”
“I wouldn’t tell,” he assured her and continued getting dressed.
Maggie waited until he’d gone downstairs to make up the bed, shower and shampoo her hair. She was blowing it dry when he returned carrying three shoeboxes and a gorgeous dress. It was a deep blood red with a scoop neck, close-fitted sleeves and a full-tiered skirt. She slipped it on over her head and stamped her bare feet as she turned.
“This is the most beautiful dress. I won’t let Ana pay for it. Did she tell you what it cost?”
“Yes, and I paid her. Here are the shoes. She bought several pairs to be certain you’d have the correct size.”
“Wait a minute; you won’t pay for my clothes.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not like the castanets. You don’t have to pay for my affection with lavish gifts. Did Ana give you the receipt?”
“No, I didn’t plan to deduct the expense on my taxes.”
His gaze narrowed when he was annoyed, as he was fast becoming, but she was adamant. “What if I gave you a gorgeous new traje de luces. Would you accept it?”