“You are stealing from the kitchen?” Marco’s teasing voice made me turn.
My boots skidded in the hay. “I brought these for Tesoro.”
Elbows on the edge of Diablo’s stall, Marco threw me a crooked smile. For a minute I couldn't help comparing him to the stallion he usually rode. Both were powerful and proud.
Feeling defensive, I waved the carrots in my hand. “Constanza told me it was all right.” Okay, that was a stretch. Maybe I’d interpreted her sweet smile as approval.
The stall door creaked as Marco slowly pushed it open and came toward me, dipping his head. Men in America would kill for his thick hair. Hands on his narrow hips, he swung up those eyes that could feel like warm chocolate. “So. How is it going with you?”
I froze. The carrot almost dropped from my hand. “What do you mean? Gregorio's lessons?”
Leaning against Tesoro’s stall way too close to me, he nodded. “Of course, the lessons. But everything else too.”
Wow, it was warm in this stable. His question made me uncomfortable. I had my hands full trying to suit the trig lessons to where Gregorio was. Reginaldo had spent way too much time on art and not enough on math. But I wasn’t going to say that. “Gregorio is a …good student”
“Good?” Throwing back his head, Marco laughed, the confident sound of a man who knew his world would always be in order. The muscles worked in his throat. But I shouldn’t be staring. “The ones before you did not think so.”
The ones before me? Pay attention, Christina. “You mean the other teachers?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” His dark eyes swept up to the rafters where doves cooed in the soft light filtering through the cracks. “Un-mo-tivated. I think that it was how they described my son. The future king of Napolitano.” Was that disgust or despair in his voice?
No way would I let Gregorio be kicked to the curb like that. “Gregorio is intellectually curious.”
I could see that the terminology had caught and held with His Majesty.
“Intellectually curious.” He turned the words over as if he were tasting a new type of pasta sauce. Was it to his liking? Marco’s eyes sparkled. “I agree. This is a good thing, no?”
“Yes and no.” What was I saying? I’d become distracted. Swept off track by a wave of scent rolling off this man. A combination of sweat and cologne, laced nicely with his roguish smile.
Then Marco drew even closer, as if to share some secret. As if he did not want Rudolfo to hear. But Rudolfo had quietly disappeared into his office. “Tell me…”
My mind blanked. Oh lordy, if he asked me to explain some calculus concept right now, I’d be lost. No way did I want to lose this gig that could fund Lexi’s college.
“Have you ever met this Leonardo…”
Who was he talking about? “Leonardo…” My mind spun. “…you mean DaVinci?”
He erupted in laughter. The doves scattered. Behind me, I felt Tesoro give her head a shake, as if trying to clear it. Maybe female had this response to the King of Napolitano. Stunned, I lifted another carrot over my shoulder. Tesoro snared it, munching with contentment.
“No, not Da Vinci,” Marco sputtered. “DaVinci is dead. DiCaprio.”
“Oh, my. No.” So we were back to movie stars. The ones who he thought lived in Pittsburg. Or Capri.
“Oh, well.” He hitched a shoulder and I could see that I was losing credibility. Did he know how large my country was?
“So, this Jay Gatsby person Gregorio talked about at lunch…is he mourned in your country?”
Now, I had to take this seriously. Although we’d had a limited interaction, I knew that Marco did not like to be laughed at. After all, he was king, but perhaps a very isolated monarch.
“He only exists in a book.” Then it hit me. “Or in the movie. Would you like to see it?”
“There is a Jay Gatsby movie?” His face brightened.
“Of course. It’s old but very…colorful.” Since he seemed familiar with Leonardo DiCaprio, I’d show that version instead of the Robert Redford one.
Rubbing his hands together, Marco seemed elated. “I will have Milo order this Jay Gatsby film for movie night.”
“Movie night?” That sounded interesting.
