“Miss Luna, buenas noches. Cómo está?” Gideon asked in halting Spanish, his gaze locked with hers and uncaring for Lord Simon’s presence. A grin lit her face. “Señor Fox, I was unaware you knew Spanish.” “I doubt I can claim to know it when I use it in such a horrific way,” he said, unable to keep a matching smile from his lips. “Not horrific at all.” She sank into a curtsy, which wobbled as she rose. “No one has tried to converse with us in our home language, and mi corazón hurts to hear it.”
