“You don’t want to sell.”

I shook my head. “I’ve been thinking about it and the truth is I like it here. I see some possibilities I hadn’t seen before.”

“What about your book? You can’t run a plantation and write a novel at the same time.”

He sat back, folded his arms across his chest, and stared at me without blinking.

“Well . . .” I hesitated. “I suppose the novel can wait.”

“You know what I think?” His eyes never left my face. “I don’t think you ever intended to sell the property or write any novel.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted. Gone was the camaraderie, the friendly banter. Martin pushed his plate.

“Why don’t you just tell me who you really are and why you’re dressed like a man?”

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 27

If there were a prize for stupidity, I would’ve won it. Here I thought I’d been fooling everyone around me, but the only fool was me.

“Should I call you María Purificación or do you go by Puri, like the plantation?” Martin said.

I swallowed.

“Puri.”

I removed Cristóbal’s spectacles and massaged the bridge of my nose. “Did you know all along?”

“I suspected it from the first day when you climbed on Pacha. Women’s hips are noticeable on horseback.”

Of course, what a dunce I’d been.

“But I confirmed it last night when I heard you singing and swimming in the creek.”

Singing? I covered my mouth. I hadn’t realized I was singing.

“Did you . . . see me, too?” I said in my normal tone of voice.

“Yes. I saw you.” He barely moved a muscle.

I averted my gaze. He’d seen me naked, which was even worse than hearing my atrocious singing. My cheeks burned.

“You could’ve at least spared me the shame of making a fool of myself today,” I said.

“I guess I could have said something, but I wasn’t sure I’d been fully awake last night. I may have had a little too much puro.”

All along he’d suspected me. I wondered if others in the family had, too. I wanted to scream.

“So that trip to the bar, the prostitutes? Were you testing me?”

“Not exactly. Like I said, I wasn’t sure what to think of you. You were convincing otherwise.”

Well, at least that. I would’ve hated for everyone to be laughing behind my back. In a way, I was relieved Martin had found out. That meant no more trips to bars and brothels and faking that I was a “real man,” though I couldn’t deny the outings with Martin were more entertaining than I would’ve expected.

“Did you tell anyone your suspicions?”

“No.” He leaned over the kitchen counter, arms folded in front of his chest. “You want to tell me what happened? Why are you pretending to be your husband?”