Ana María and the Fox (The Luna Sisters, #1)

by Liana De la Rosa

and culture and art? That only British history, European history, is worth knowing? As if the greatness of the British Empire, the Spanish Empire . . . the Roman Empire . . . weren’t built on the backs of those they stole from. Those they pillaged from, all while they claimed to be civilizing the native people.”

Heaven knew that he had to work twice as hard for an ounce of the success he’d earned, because for some of his colleagues, he would always be an overreaching Black man from the East End.

It had been love at first sight, according to his father at least . . . but then even now, sixteen years since their death, Gideon could remember the soft look that filled his mother’s eyes whenever she had looked at his father.

“It’s rather unfair, don’t you think, that women are criticized for the very thing men do all the time.”

“You’re like a prism, displaying your thoughts and emotions in an array of colorful expressions. I’m sure I could watch you all day.”

“Not everyone prizes light skin,” Gabby hissed, stomping her foot. “Isabel’s features, including her dark skin, are gifts from our people. Of those who lived and breathed and loved for hundreds of years since before the world knew it as Mexico, and were never defeated by the Tenochca Empire.” She flung a hand out at Isabel. “Her bronze skin was worn by warriors. By survivors. To bleach it away because of some grotesque beauty standard would be a cruel sin.”

“But I’ve long suspected that the aristocracy has continued to indulge in the barbarity of foxhunting as a means of exercising their will over nature.” Lady Yardley snorted. “For in what ways do these men, ensconced in their elegant Mayfair homes and ancestral estates, ever exert their dominion upon those creatures less than themselves?”

“As a girl, I often had time to consider the various battles and skirmishes my father participated in, and more often than not, I came to the conclusion that things would have been very different had a woman, or women, been a part of the decision-making.” “And that’s what I hope for. That one day young women are granted the opportunities that are afforded to young men,”

“Have you noticed that many myths, no matter which culture they originate from, focus on love or loss or revenge?” Gideon rested his chin on the crown of her head. “Why are humans so consumed with the three?” “Because they remind us we’re alive.”

“You deserve more than dalliances. You deserve a man who will recognize how clever you are. How you think deeply about things, and approach new ideas or viewpoints with empathy.

Oh, she’d felt his gaze on her several times throughout the night, and while they had exchanged a loaded glance a time or two, it appeared that their stolen moment in the home woods was all she could expect of Gideon’s company. Ana María knew the ache would lessen with time, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear, especially when she observed him leading other women out for a set. Each of her sisters had danced with him, as had Lady Mallory, and in stolen, covert glances, she watched him move about the dance floor, his broad body somehow both imposing and graceful. Ana María did not recall the majority of conversations she engaged in during her sets because her attention had been so ensnared by the one man in the room she could not have.

It was just a kiss, Ana. Ana María rubbed at her brow as she walked, for the last was hard to believe. Not when Gideon had held her so tenderly. Kissed her so desperately. Made her feel . . . so much.

“What do I gain?” He furrowed his brow as he shook his head. “Miss Luna, I would gain you. The chance to welcome every sunrise by your side and say good night to every sunset. Just spending my life with you, orbiting around your smile and laugh, would make me the richest of men.”

“But whatever gave you the idea that I’d be a gentleman in the bedroom?”

With those emphatic words, he kissed her, a meeting of lips that incinerated her doubts and sparked a hot, intense emotion in her heart.