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

by Liana De la Rosa

And he certainly did not regret his proposal of marriage to Miss Luna.

Ana María. Christ, how he loved the shape of her name on his tongue.

“That’s why you brought them here and interrupted my holiday, isn’t it, Fox?” Whitfield pointed a finger at him. “Because you knew that she would be my own personal biblical plague.”

“Only if there are any stakes left after Gabriela Luna does her best to send me back to the underworld.”

The housekeeper had offered each sister her own chamber, but none of them wished to be separated, drawing comfort from one another’s presence.

Ana María sat at a small escritoire, fiddling with her pen as she wrote and rewrote a letter to her parents. What exactly could she say to them, having found she could no longer meet the expectations set for her?

She’d jumped to do his bidding her entire life, had strived to be a perfect daughter, and now she was to marry a man he’d never met.

she forced herself to admit that the real reason she was struggling with writing the letter was that she had to tell her mother that England would forever be her home now.

But when a gentle hand landed on her shoulder, and another pushed hair off her brow, she lost her fight. Sobs tore free from her throat, from her soul, and she no longer cared about the tears that coursed down her cheeks.

“You’ve never seen her like this because when has she ever been allowed to be vulnerable? When have any of us been at liberty to share, openly, how we feel about anything? What we think about anything?”

“I may never see Mexico again.”

“Ana,” Gabby said sharply, seizing her gaze, “why are you worried about what the people back home think? Why are the opinions of Father’s sect important? What they think of you, or by extension us, does not matter now. England will be your home, and this is where you will build your life. Those people are unimportant, as they always should have been.”

Hadn’t their tío Arturo made it clear when they arrived that they no longer had to subjugate themselves to their father’s rule?

Yet Ana María still needed to be reminded of such. No longer was he owed her obedience. The only edicts she was now expected to honor were her own.

“I wanted to toss you off the ship countless times on the voyage across the Atlantic, and now the thought that you might make that trip back home without me is enough to reduce me to tears.”

You are stuck with me for the foreseeable future, it would seem, for Napoleon and his men occupy Mexico

“And I’m sure you had your opinions of us.” Isabel’s tone turned hard. “I suspect Father did that on purpose.”

Whitfield had dined with them for a time, but when Gabby arrived, her frosty gaze falling on the duke the moment she stepped in the room, he had immediately risen from his seat and grumbled a goodbye.

Frustrated and eager to rejoin his bride, Gideon left the duke to it.

“But why?” Isabel pushed, advancing a step closer to the captain, peering at him as if he were some unknown creature she had only read about in a book.

as soon as Ana María’s gaze fell on the magenta gown with its gold stitching, she knew it was the one.

She’d been wearing the gown when she’d first set eyes on Gideon at the Montrose ball, and even then had known her life would never be the same.

“Do all brides cry?”

the beloved daughters of my beloved sister—based

It seemed that a good deal of people had been fooled by the earl, and Ana María refused to punish them for it.

“But I’d very much like to have Isabel and Gabby give me away instead.”

“Of course your sisters should give you away. You have been through much together, and I’m certain the idea would make your mother very happy.”

Nevertheless, the whole affair was like a dream bathed in the golden light of sunset, and the only discernible thing she could focus on was Gideon’s handsome face. His soft smile as he spoke his vows to her. The burning embers in his eyes when she repeated hers back to him.

Ana María committed the look of triumph, of complete happiness that blazed across his mien as he leaned down to press a kiss to her lips, to her memory. The kiss was gentle, even chaste, but it sealed their union, and there was no turning back.

He was a married man.

But now she was his.

Anytime Ana María laughed, anytime she smiled, anytime she looked at him with an intriguing mix of bashfulness and beguiling charm in her velvet eyes, he was reminded that she had become his oasis in truth, and Gideon could not comprehend how he had gotten so lucky.

How was it possible that the woman he’d wanted from the first, the clever beauty who continued to intrigue him despite his valiant efforts to push her away, was now his wife?

His friend had been an amiable companion who hadn’t monopolized her time or engaged in overt flirting. Gideon had been friends with the duke long enough to know Whitfield was adept at making a woman feel as if she were the center of the universe, and he wasn’t certain what he would do if Ana María fell prey to his charms. But his concerns were for naught, for Whitfield was friendly but respectful, and Ana María kept a hand over her husband’s, as if she needed proof Gideon still sat at her side. He was more than happy to remind her, as many times as she needed.

They may have shared a passionate kiss—no, a soul-consuming, blood-burning kiss—but that did not mean his new bride wanted to consummate their marriage.

The thought of knowing Ana María was his and not being able to touch her, to taste her, left his jaw throbbing.

Ana María may have turned willing and pliant under his touch once before, but that didn’t mean she was interested in immediately consummating their union.

Ana María deserved for there to be trust between them, and maybe he could earn her trust—and give her pleasure—tonight.

His darling wife was nervous, and that would not do.

“I do enjoy our conversations.” “As do I.” He allowed his smirk to turn sly. “But I enjoy kissing you, too.”

“I hate not knowing what’s expected of me. I despise being ignorant, especially of something so intimate.” “I’ll show you,” he said, his voice dropping an octave.

Christ, but he couldn’t wait to map her skin and discover all the places he could turn it crimson.

Gideon held himself still, determined his lovely new bride would have the chance to look her fill.

“I just needed to keep a part of you close. No matter how small.”

It had been a comfort to him when he thought she could never be his, and now it was a bittersweet token of how long he had pined for her.

“Will you help me with the buttons here, little wife?” he rasped.

She lingered, though, her knuckles grazing over where he was hard and aching for her.

“Oh, darling, I’ve only given you a glimpse of how overwhelming I can be.” Gideon twined his fingers in her hair and gave it a small tug, his tongue tracing across his teeth as his gaze devoured her. “You’ve overwhelmed me from the first and every day since, and I intend to exact my revenge.”

“A true gentleman would not seek revenge on a young woman.” “Perhaps not.” Giving in to temptation, he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “But whatever gave you the idea that I’d be a gentleman in the bedroom?”

The guilt, the uncertainty, that had flavored their last kiss was no more. Ana María was his now, and he was hers, and Gideon intended to savor this moment, and every moment to come.