fix them something to eat.
It didn’t take long for a white-jacketed butler to appear with a tray laden with omelets, breads, assorted fruits, pastries, and a steaming pot of coffee. “Ven acá, por favor,” he said, and escorted them out to a table on the patio, shaded by a portico and overlooking the exquisite gardens.
Suddenly, the thought of poor Gabriela being held hostage by Sanchez and suffering unspeakable indignities at his brutal hands came back to haunt Jackie. “Emiliano, what about Gabriela?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Do you think Fidel will have her rescued?”
Emiliano reached for her hand and held it. “Yes, I do,” he said with conviction. “Fidel is not going to rest easy with so many of our people captured. He’ll figure out a way to get them back.”
Jackie felt reassured. From the little she’d seen of Castro, he had impressed her as someone who could achieve whatever he set out to do.
“Good,” she said, and dropped the subject.
Jackie thought she would want to take a nap after breakfast, but the jolt she received from the thick, high-voltage Cuban coffee gave her a second wind and the urge to enjoy these beautiful environs. “That pool looked so inviting,” she said to Emiliano as the butler cleared the table. “Why don’t we change into swimsuits, loll around for a while, and take a dip?”
Emiliano nodded. “Yes, I would like that. We could use some relaxation.”
Jackie jumped up, not even waiting for Emiliano to perform his usual gentlemanly custom of helping her out of her chair. “Good; then I’ll meet you at the pool.”
A uniformed housekeeper directed Jackie up the winding, mosaic tile staircase to Stephanie’s bedroom, one of many on the second floor. The embroidered silk bedspread, French mirrors, lace curtains, and hand-painted antique furniture provided a décor fit for a princess. Jackie had to admit, with a twinge of remorse, that it put her bedroom at Merrywood to shame.
After a fast shower, Jackie found a bathing suit in a bureau drawer and slipped it on, breathing a sigh of relief that she was indeed about the same size as Mrs. Mitchell’s daughter.
“Waiting long?” Jackie asked when she met Emiliano at the pool.
“No, I just got here myself.”
Jackie couldn’t take her eyes off him. In bathing trunks, a state of undress that she had never expected to see him in, Emiliano revealed the broad shoulders, muscular torso, and flat, hard stomach of a male model or a professional athlete. “Beautiful” was not a word that Jackie normally applied to a man, but after they’d rested a while, and Emiliano dove into the pool and began to swim, “beautiful” was the only word she could think of. He was all sinewy grace, tan arms rotating through the water with smooth, even strokes that had a hypnotic effect. Soon, Jackie leaped up from her chaise and joined him. Over and over again, they did laps together from one end of the pool to the other, moving side by side in perfect rhythm, attuned to each other like twin creatures of the sea. It was, Jackie thought, incredibly sexy.
“You’re a good swimmer, Jacqueline,” Emiliano said when they were toweling off. “Is that your favorite sport?”
“No, horseback riding is. I’ve been riding and competing in shows since I was a little girl. I’ve won trophies, but that’s just the icing on the cake for me. I’m passionate about riding for the pure pleasure of it, the feeling it gives me of running free.”
Emiliano’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “That sounds like you have the makings of a rebel, Jacqueline.”
Jackie smiled back. She liked this playful side of Emiliano, which he had rarely shown her before. It made her feel more attractive to him and more willing to share who she really was. “Yes, I do have a rebellious streak, but not in a political sense,” she said. “I have a sense of adventure, a curiosity about the world, and I refuse to be tied down by all the rules and regulations of someone in my social position. When I’m out riding, I feel as if I’m leaving all that behind.”
“You’re fortunate to have an escape like that,” Emiliano said with a touch of envy in his voice. He dropped his towel on the chaise and gave her a questioning look. “How would you like to go riding now? The Mitchells have horses, and they’re probably bored being cooped up in the stable without Ricky and Stephanie here to take them out.”
“Oh, what