Royally Claimed - By Marie Donovan Page 0,44

Julia hastily changed the subject. Frank came from a big family and probably still wanted lots of little Portuguese babies running around. A young, fertile wife in her early twenties would be the best for that. Funny to think that many women Julia’s age spent their twenties trying to avoid pregnancy and their thirties chasing it.

“There is one pair of taps nearby that has two different springs. One tap has silvery residue and the other is iron.” Frank seemed to shake off his tinge of melancholy and checked the time on his phone. “Almost time to get lunch. Let’s hop on the bike and go up to the caldera.”

“What’s the caldera?” They went around a turn and Julia saw they were close to the entrance.

He winked. “The rim of the volcano.”

10

JULIA WASN’T SURE ABOUT going to the rim of any volcano, dormant or not, but a few minutes later, Frank stopped the motorcycle in a small parking lot above the town.

“There’s a lake in the volcano.” Julia had thought it would be a gaping crater. “It’s beautiful.” The water was a deep, dark blue, sparkling under the sun.

“I’m glad you like it. The volcano is cooking our lunch.” He tugged her along.

“We’re not roasting hot dogs over it, are we?”

“Much more fancy.”

Around the corner was another moonscape of crusted white land. Apparently this was safe for walking, since a handful of elderly men stood around on it smoking cigarettes, as if the sulfur fumes weren’t enough. Black mounds of dirt dotted the flat area like giant anthills.

One man spotted Frank and called out enthusiastically. Frank waved in response. “Come meet our chefs.”

“Chefs?”

He tugged her along across the crunchy soil—almost as if they were walking on a frozen lake and she wasn’t sure if it would hold them. And she could swear the soles of her shoes were getting hotter as they went.

Frank greeted the men and introduced her to them, remembering each of their first and last names, and with Portuguese names, that was several apiece. The men were clearly flattered at being remembered by the Duke of Santas Aguas and treated her as if she were a princess. Or a duchess. “A pleasure, senhorina.” One man—she thought his name was José—gave her a little bow and gestured at the black mound closest to them. “We bring food out here at five o’clock this morning.”

A couple men busied themselves with a shovel, clearing the dirt away to reveal a pail with a lid. Another man hooked a hoe into the lid handle and lifted what looked like a five-gallon metal bucket.

“Here’s our lunch.”

“Oh, um, are we picnicking here?” Julia looked around for somewhere to sit. She couldn’t even smell what lunch might be.

Frank translated her question and the men laughed good-naturedly. “José says if he sits on the ground he is not getting back up again,” Frank told her, pointing at José who clutched comically at his back and limped for a few steps. “No, we are going to his house to eat with him and his family.”

The men wrapped the pail in a couple of old horse blankets and Frank helped lug it to the parking lot. He pretended to lift it onto the back of the motorcycle as if to drive it to José’s house and the old men laughed again. The Duke of Santas Aguas was obviously a well-admired young man.

The pail made it safely into a compact car’s backseat, and the caravan of cars and motorcycle wound down the hill to a pretty white-washed two-story house. José honked the horn to announce that the ducal procession had arrived, and an older woman came out the front door, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She wore glasses and had short, reddish-brown hair that puffed slightly around her face.

From the way she gestured and scolded José, Julia guessed that she was his wife. The men bore the pail into the house under her strict supervision, and then she turned to Frank. “Your Grace. Welcome to our home.” She even curtsied a bit. It was the first time Julia’d seen anyone treat Frank so formally, and it reminded her that he was indeed a powerful nobleman, cousin to Portuguese royalty, and accustomed to much finer things in life than she was.

Frank bowed back and took the woman’s hand in greeting. “It is our honor to be here, Senhora Magdalena.” He introduced her to Julia, holding the older lady’s hand the whole time.

“Please come in, Your Grace, Senhorina Julia.” Magdalena