Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [29]
Four men and two hounds waited on the sand. Ana recognized Severo Fuentes, whom she’d seen on the dock with Eugenio that first day in San Juan. His hat shaded his face, but she remembered his powerful build. Two black men splashed into the water to pull the dinghy to the beach. They were tall, broad, and naked to the waist but had rolled their pants legs to the knees. When they turned around to pull the boat to shore, the scars on their backs, shoulders, and calves glistened accusingly. Ana averted her face.
As they neared the beach, the two dogs bounded toward them. The terrified men pressed against the dinghy, pushing it toward the larger boat, almost upending it as the hounds swam in their direction. Severo Fuentes whistled. Reluctantly, the dogs backed up, growling and showing their teeth. The other man, who was shorter, caramel-skinned, barefoot, pulled the dogs to shore by their rope collars. Once on the beach, he tied them to a tree. Severo patted their heads, scratched the undersides of their muzzles, said a few words, and turned his back on them as he moved toward the tide line. The dogs paced restlessly, their eager eyes following his figure as he signaled to the men to pull the dinghy to the beach.
Ramón jumped into the giving sand, followed by Inocente’s more cautious step. The black men were about to help Ana, but Inocente motioned them aside. “We’ll help her.”
“Let me carry you”—Ramón reached his arms to Ana—“so that you won’t get your feet wet.”
Severo Fuentes watched with the attitude of someone about to spring into action if needed. Ana was self-conscious about being the only woman among all those men, but she was especially aware of Severo’s expectant posture. She sensed that he was evaluating her, that he’d judge what kind of woman she was by whether or not she’d be carried to the shore.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I can manage.” She stepped quickly to the bow of the dinghy and leaped to the sand. In a few quick steps she was on dry land.
“¡Olé!” Ramón clapped.
“Well done!” Inocente said.
Ana couldn’t see Severo’s eyes but was sure he would have caught her if she fell, and noticed his slight, admiring smile when she didn’t.
With one hand, Ana held down her skirts against the breeze, while with the other, she pressed her hat against her head and mock curtsied.
“Very impressive.” Inocente laughed. “Come, meet the mayordomo.”
Severo Fuentes removed his flat-brimmed cordobés hat and bowed ceremoniously, unused to such gestures. His hair was a startling golden color. Ana saw his eyes for the first time, flinty green, behind long, feminine lashes and arched eyebrows the same color as his hair. He had full lips and a clean-shaven face. He was centimeters shorter than Ramón or Inocente, but more sturdily built, with long arms and legs, a muscular torso. He’d obviously taken care to dress for the occasion with a starched white shirt, a light blue sash, a blue chaquetilla and pants, and cordovan leather riding boots. He could almost pass for a gentleman, Ana thought, were it not for his hands. They were coarse and tanned, making the hair on them, and on his wrists, shimmer like gold thread in the sun.
Their saddles had been sent ahead with their trunks, but the horses on the beach looked old and shabby. Ana’s resplendent new saddle, a wedding gift from Abuelo Cubillas, now graced the back of a tawny mare with a dull, placid face. It looked as gaudy on the old horse as a tiara on a wrinkled dueña.
“Lamentablemente, señores y señora, your plantation does not yet boast horses like what I am sure you are used to,” Severo said with a pained expression. Ana pulled down her veil to hide her smile against Severo’s forced effort to erase his peasant’s accent.
“How long is the ride to the house?” asked Inocente, briskly adjusting the cinch on