“Bonsoir, mesdames et messieurs.” I spoke quietly to the group of people who were gathered at the dock of a great ship. As crew-members and porters hurried past with luggage and other supplies, I stepped nervously away from the harbor and looked over the heads of the gathered crowd to the rising edifices of a city I had left behind nearly five centuries previous. It would be different now from the city which remained in my memories, but I was fairly certain that I could take this group of people unerringly down the same streets I had once walked with the man who, even after all this time, still held my heart in his sun-baked hands. Such confidence was good, for that was what I aimed to do tonight – I wanted to give these gentle people a brief tour of Seville, Spain, where I first fell in love with Javier Estas.
I took a deep breath of the orange-scented air. “I am Keith D’Ameron, ladies and gentlemen, and I am leading you on a brief tour of the city in which I met the man who has shared more of my life over the past long while than I could ever have believed would happen. This entrance here into the city is the one he used, towards the end of the story in which we met, but I will show you the main gate, where I came into the city for the first time, in a moment. The gates here are called postigos, and each one has a name. This one was the postigo de la Feria – but come this way.” I led the group through the winding lanes of the city, enjoying the chance to see the city as I had once known it through the glimpses of the past which still lurked in every corner. Pausing at a beautiful garden entrance, a melancholy smile touched my lips. I turned to the crowd. “This garden was not here when I visited," I remarked softly.
“But it is very apt indeed to find it here.”
“What was here, Mr. D’Ameron?” a young woman asked, tucking a curl of her hair back behind her ear.
I smiled. “There was a house here, once. A very special man and his wife lived here. They had a beautiful stable and they produced many fine horses.” I didn’t know if any of that was true, of course; Javier did not like to speak of the time he had spent here in Seville. Indeed, I had not even told him I would be coming here, so sensitive still was the subject of what had happened to his wife.
“Who were they?” someone else asked.
I chuckled. “Javier Estas and his wife, Ofelia Estas, lived here once upon a time. Their house stood right back there, where that pavilion stands now. It – the house - burned down in an … accident a long time ago.” I turned away from the garden and strode down the lane towards the tree-filled square where, long ago, swords had clashed on the same summer night on which I had lost my heart to the fiery green eyes of my Spanish warrior. As it was with the rest of the city, my memories of how the square had been on the night of that duel conflicted with the vision setting itself before me now, but I raised my head and smiled at the sight of the great Cathedral and its clock which still loomed above us. I turned my head eastward. “Right over there, ladies and gentlemen, is the site of the tavern in which I would meet, for the first time, the man who stole my heart the last time I was here.”
Some laughter scattered its way through the crowd. “You met him in a tavern?” someone asked incredulously.
I spread my hands in a Gallic shrug. “Times were different then. Taverns were more than dives in which one merely pickled one’s liver.” I turned and pointed down a winding lane which led to a more residential area of the city. “That is where I lived while I was here, down that street. I imagine the house is gone now, though, but I will take you there if you like.”
“But what happened to Javier and Ofelia?” another young woman asked.
I smiled. “Our story is told in our novel, Undisclosed Desires. If you wish to find out, I have these cards for you to take with you.” One by one, I moved through the crowd, handing out the business cards which read on one side:
Undisclosed Desires by M. Peters, available on Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Undisclosed-Desire-ebook/dp/B008EEAM2K/ref=la_B008HF2O4U_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1341757324&sr=1-2 and in print: https://www.createspace.com/3916843
On the other side was this:
I smiled at the people inspecting the cards. “Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you on a further tour of the city – unless you would rather return to the ship and begin reading on your own? Thank you for coming along tonight. All of us hope we shall come to know you better through the telling of our story, but I thank you especially for letting me get to know you tonight.”
Who Is M. Peters?
M. Peters has been writing stories since she was a little girl. Since she met her fiancée in 1999, they have truly begun to come to life. Undisclosed Desires is her first published work, though she has been editing novels for up-and-coming authors across a wide spectrum of genres for the last eight years. She and her fiancée, who were high-school sweethearts, live in Florida with their two cats. She has recently entered the world of Twitter, and can be followed here while she works on her newest novel: https://twitter.com/MPetersDesires, or like her on Facebook, to read snippets of her upcoming novel here: https://www.facebook.com/MPeters2183
Her website is available here, where you can link up with Amazon to buy her first book as well as read excerpts from her newest works in progress! http://mo8832.wix.com/undiscloseddesires#!home/mainPage
Authorgraphs are ALSO available here, updated to reflect only the need for an EMAIL address instead of a Twitter account! Check it out: http://www.authorgraph.com/authors/MPetersDesires
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