Devoted to the Spanish Duke

by Sasha Cottman

  If only it was you giving me a bath and washing my hair. Now that would be perfect.

  He leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. Since the night they had first kissed, these moments of gentle affection had become a part of their ever-growing relationship. Of their deepening bond.

  “As long you are sleeping in my arms, that is all that matters,” said Lisandro.

  They had taken to spending their evenings huddled in their private spot on the weather deck, sharing tender moments. Every kiss or touch of Lisandro’s hands sent ripples of pleasure and need through Maria’s body.

  While the nights spent curled up together in the cramped cabin bed were wonderful, she longed for a time when they could have an open discussion about their future. They had not spoken of a life together, but she sensed this was more due to Lisandro not wishing to tempt fate rather than for lack of wanting it. At the moment. they both seemed content with sealing their tacit agreement with soft kisses and gentle words.

  But Maria longed for the time when she and Lisandro could become lovers.

  She smiled up at him as he kissed her once more.

  “You might want to go down to the main deck and collect your things. I have left a leather hat on your bed, and you should put it on before we arrive. We have to assume that someone might be watching any foreign vessels as they come into port, and taking interest in the passengers as they disembark,” he said.

  Lisandro’s words, while reminding her of the possible perils ahead, gave Maria comfort. He was constantly thinking of how best to manage any threat to their safety. But who was looking out for him?

  I should be.

  “Lisandro, please promise me that you will not take any unnecessary risks while we are in Bilbao.”

  “Believe me, I am always careful. And unlike in London, I don’t have any friends in this city whom I could call upon if we ran into serious trouble.”

  Until they made it all the way to Castle Tolosa there was no one whom they could completely trust. Who knew how many people had been paid off by the kidnappers? The fact that they had used the head priest of the Cathedral of Santiago as part of their scheme was a clear indication as to how little regard they had for the rules of society.

  Lisandro slipped a hand about Maria’s waist and pulled her close. She lifted her face, gratefully accepting his tender kiss on her lips.

  “I will not do anything that puts us in danger. The visit to the head priest is only so we may gain some understanding of where any threats to us may come from. Unknown enemies are the worst to fight,” he replied.

  She kissed him one last time, then drew away. “I will go and collect our things.”

  As she headed toward the ladder which led down to the main deck, Maria stopped and looked back at him. Had Lisandro caught the meaning behind her words? She had said our things deliberately, with good reason. Once they were back on dry land, it would be just the two of them.

  Lisandro, you and I are in this together. Not just now, but forever.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The inn Lisandro had chosen for them was in Barrenkale, one of the seven streets of the old town of Bilbao which ran perpendicular to the river. At the end of each street was the original high stone wall which circled the town. At night, the gates of the wall were closed, and those seeking to move in and out of Las Siete Calles had go via the guards at the main gates.

  After they passed through the gate, they stepped into a narrow street with tall buildings which towered over them on both sides. Wet washing hung from many high balconies, drying in the warm sun.

  “Soy un tonto,” muttered Lisandro.

  Why does he think himself a fool?

  “What is wrong?” she asked.

  He turned and pointed toward the high wall. “This has always been a safe place when I have stayed in Bilbao. The walls keep everyone in. I have just realized that it also means we have only one way out of here if we come under attack.”

  Until that moment, Maria had been enjoying the view on the walk up from the river. Now, the ancient walls of the old town no longer seemed so inviting.

  They continued up the cobbled street of Barrenkale for a short distance before entering a walkway through a small gate. At the end, they stepped into the yard of the inn. A sign hung over a nearby door with the picture of a blackbird.

  “El Mirlo?” she asked.

  “Yes, this is one of the oldest inns in all of Bilbao. It dates back to the thirteenth century. It’s been around for longer than the wall. Come. Let’s see if we can get a room,” he replied.

  Maria pulled her hat down farther, hiding more of her face, and followed Lisandro inside.

  To her surprise, The Blackbird was a well-run establishment, and the owner’s wife soon had a metal tub brought to their room. A small procession of housemaids, all carrying pitchers of warm water, followed it. Soon, Maria was staring lovingly at the sight of an inviting bath.

  After tipping the maids, Lisandro closed and locked the door to their room. “I suggest you take a quick bath. In the meantime, I will go and see if I can secure an audience with the head priest.”

  Maria sighed with disappointment. She had been hoping to spend a long hour soaking in the tub and then find a good bottle of Spanish wine. After that, a siesta on the bed was in her plans.

  With a wry grin on his face, Lisandro came to her. The warm, delicious kiss he set on her lips brightened her mood a little. Maria pressed herself to him. There was a definite hardening of something against her stomach. Temptation beckoned.

  Chuckling softly, he stepped back, hands raised. “If you keep playing that sort of dangerous game, we might never make it out of here.”

  “Would that be such a bad thing?” she asked.

  His face became a study of serious intent. “When I make you mine, and I think we both know that it will eventually happen, it most certainly won’t be in an old inn. And especially not when the clock is ticking, and I am about to go and see a priest.”

  He came closer and whispered in her ear, “Your first time will be special. I want to have hours at my disposal when I make love to you, Maria. Because rest assured that when I do have you naked and beneath me, you will climax more than once.”

  She swallowed deep, shocked and deeply aroused by his words. In her imagination, she had played out a time when he and she were together but hearing him say it with such certainty . . . it was almost too much.

  “Will you stay while I bathe?” she asked.

  Lisandro shook his head. “I am a man with more than a modicum of self-restraint but even I am not that strong.” He pointed at the door. “Just make sure to lock this after I leave.”

  After Lisandro left, Maria did as he instructed and turned the key. With her back against the door, she closed her eyes.

  He wanted her. She would be his and soon.

  She stripped her clothes from her body, then slid naked into the bath. As the soapy suds covered her breasts, Maria took hold of one of her nipples and brushed her thumb over it. Her other hand dipped below the water and up between her legs. As she slipped a finger inside her heat and began to stroke, she lay her head back against the tub and focused her thoughts on him—on Lisandro and the delicious things she couldn’t wait for him to do to her.

  “There is not a lot I can tell you, but I think you are in grave danger if you remain in Bilbao. The man I dealt with showed no respect for me or the Holy Mother Church. And that sort of man is the kind who doesn’t fear for his soul,” said the priest.

  Lisandro set his glass of brandy on the table. He had hoped that the head of Santiago Cathedral would be able to shed more light on the men who had handed him the ransom notes, but it seemed Lisandro’s mission had been in vain. The only thing he’d gained was confirmation that it was the Englishman Wicker, whom Lisandro had seen in Zarautz, who had dealt with the money the Duke of Villabona had paid to secure Maria’s release.

  “When was the last time you saw this Mister Wicker?” he aske
d.

  “Yesterday. He keeps coming to ask if the second ransom has been paid. That is why I think you need to get out of Bilbao, and quickly. News of your arrival in Spain may not stay secret for very long. Sailors drinking in taverns like to tell tales.”

  Lisandro got to his feet; decision made. He and Maria had to leave Bilbao, and today. They would get as far on the road to Tolosa as they could before nightfall.

  “Thank you, Father. I appreciate your honesty. I am sorry you have been caught up in all this and the grace of the Holy Catholic Church so badly mistreated,” he said.

  The priest made the sign of the cross in blessing. “Send word once you have delivered Doña Maria de Elizondo Garza home to her family. I shall pray for both of you. God speed, Don de Aguirre.”

  Lisandro left the cathedral by way of a side door and turned left into Posta Kalea. It was a longer walk back to The Blackbird than leaving by the front, but he had suddenly become averse to the crowd which mingled around the cathedral’s entrance. In his mind, every person he passed could well be someone linked to the kidnappers.

  He had just turned left again, moving in the direction of the river, when his gaze locked on a familiar body. There on a street corner, casually smoking a cigar, stood the badly scarred Englishman, Mister Wicker.

  Lisandro’s blood ran to ice.

  “Infierno sangriento,” Lisandro muttered under his breath.

  He chastised himself. Here he was, still within sight of the cathedral, and what was he doing? Offering up blasphemy.

  I am going to go to hell.

  Setting aside all worries about eternal damnation, he pulled the collar of his coat up and kept to his side of the street. It was only when he finally made it into a nearby lane and was well out of sight of his enemy that Lisandro allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief.

  He hurried on quickly to the inn. There was no time to waste.

  Please be finished bathing and be ready to leave.

  Reaching, The Blackbird, he slowed his steps. A man rushing anywhere usually created interest. The last thing he wanted was for someone to make mention of a guest leaving in a hurry.

  He knocked on the door, pushing past Maria as soon as she opened it.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed.

  Her startled response pulled him up sharp. He had been so intent on getting back from the cathedral, a thousand worries in his head, he had just barreled into the room and not given her a second thought. The vision of loveliness which met his gaze now gave him pause.

  Maria had bathed and dressed. Her long brown hair had been braided and hung over one shoulder. She was a radiant picture of Northern Spanish beauty.

  The only thing which spoiled the view was the look of hurt on her face. The pain in her warm brown eyes.

  “Forgive me,” he said.

  She tilted her head to one side and considered him. “What is wrong? You seem terribly agitated, Lisandro. What happened at the cathedral? Were you able to get any information?”

  He let out a long, slow breath, doing his best to regain his composure. Maria was right; he was in a state of flux.

  “The priest at Santiago Cathedral wasn’t able to give me much. But he did tell me that the man who I saw in Zarautz, the scarred Englishman, is here in Bilbao. He is the one who has been handling the ransom letters and your father’s money,” he explained.

  He reached for his travel bag and began to stuff things into it. After picking up Maria’s hat and coat, he handed them to her. “We have to leave now. I just saw that same man standing outside the cathedral.”

  “The Englishman with the burned face? I am sure he must be the same man who put the sack over my head. He knows what I look like, so yes we have to go,” she replied.

  She came to his side and placed a hand on his arm. “Take a moment and calm your mind. Then let’s you and I come up with a sensible plan.”

  With reluctance, Lisandro did as she asked and let out a long, slow breath. It quietened his racing mind. Lisandro’s hands still shook from the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, but he could at last think straight.

  I can do this. I can get us out of here.

  “If we leave Bilbao now, we might make one of the villages en route to Tolosa by nightfall. We stand a better chance if instead of hiring a coach, we avail ourselves of horses,” she said.

  He went to open his mouth to ask about her horsemanship skills but a hard glare from Maria stopped him. “My father owns a whole stable of Andalusian grays. I was taught to ride a warhorse from the time I could walk. Please don’t insult me by asking how well I can handle a mount.”

  She was smart, resourceful, and if he hadn’t already fallen in love with her, Lisandro would have done so at that very moment.

  “It is going to be a long and hard ride. I’m sorry that you didn’t get a chance to sleep in a proper bed tonight, but once we make it to Castle Tolosa, I promise you will get plenty of rest,” he replied.

  He was dying to show Maria his huge bed. To roll her in it, make love to her, and then sleep soundly with Maria wrapped in his arms. But Lisandro was determined that Maria’s first time would be wonderful, and that for those long hours of tender caresses, her mind would be solely on the two of them.

  Right now, however, the threat of her kidnappers still hung over them.

  Once he got her safely home to Castle Tolosa, to the home he intended would be theirs forever, then they would be free to indulge in their desires. To become one.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lisandro glanced up at the dark clouds and swore. Rain was coming, and soon; he could smell it in the air. The last thing either of them wanted was to be caught out on the road in the middle of a storm. They had left the last village two hours ago, and it was too far for them to travel back and escape the threatening weather.

  “It looks like we are going to get a soaking,” he said.

  When he received no answer to his comment, Lisandro drew back on the reins and turned to look over his shoulder. Instead of Maria being where she had been, travelling just a horse-length to his rear, she was a good fifty yards behind him. She had dismounted from her horse and was staring out over a nearby field.

  Lisandro rode back and pulled his horse up next to hers.

  “It’s going to rain soon; I think we should seek shelter. That looks as good a place as any,” she said.

  His gaze followed her pointing finger. A low stone barn in the middle of a grassy meadow caught his attention. A granero! Tonto! How did I miss that?

  Not for the first time did Lisandro send a prayer of gratitude to heaven for having been gifted the company of not only a beautiful woman, but a capable one.

  They led their horses through a gap in the rock wall that ran alongside the road and toward the barn. There was no sign of a house anywhere. The barn was more than likely a place for hay to be stored and as a winter shelter for animals.

  Inside they found exactly what they needed.

  “This is perfect. There is feed for the horses, a trough with fresh rainwater, and best of all, clean hay for us to sleep on,” she said.

  They tethered the horses at one end of the barn, then removed the saddles. While Maria set about unpacking their gear, Lisandro gave their mounts a well-deserved rub down.

  “You are mighty beasts and have got us a long way today. I give you my thanks,” he said.

  Not surprisingly, the horses didn’t bother to respond. They were too busy tucking into the clean hay.

  Today had been long and extraordinarily arduous. From arriving into port early in the afternoon, to then discovering that their enemies were lurking in Bilbao, to now having spent many hours in the saddle, Lisandro was bone-weary.

  If only we had made it to Eibar. I hate us being out on the road like this; it leaves us exposed.

  He would have to settle for accepting what progress they had made. Maria was out of Bilbao, and Eibar was close enough that if they had to make a midnight dash for it, they stood an even chance o
f success—so long as the threatening storm was not fully upon them.

  With the horses dried and fed, he joined her over in the corner of the barn where she was sitting on a pile of loose straw, cutting up some cheese. Earlier in Bilbao, while he had been negotiating the purchase of two horses, Maria had gone to a nearby market and secured provisions. For a daughter of nobility, she was possessed with a sensible and practical nature.

  From the saddlebags, she produced a sealed ceramic jug of cider, a large loaf of fresh bread, and a jar of pickled vegetables.

  “That looks delicious,” he said.

  She grinned at him, then produced another small sack and handed it over.

  Lisandro opened it and took out a long object wrapped up in cloth. His nose picked up the scent in an instant. “Smoked cod?”

  “Now we are truly back in Spain,” she said.

  Lisandro leaned over and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “That we are.”

  It may have been simple fare, but with Maria by his side, it was the best meal Lisandro had enjoyed in a long while.

  The rain came an hour later, heralded by lightning and thunder. A cacophony of noise danced across the tiled roof of the barn. Fortunately, the horses seemed to be comfortable with the drama from the heavens and paid it no heed.

  In their cozy corner of the barn, Lisandro and Maria huddled over a small lamp. It was the only source of light they dared use. They hadn’t seen anyone on the road for several hours, but they couldn’t risk being discovered. If they had been followed, a secluded barn in the middle of nowhere was the last place they wished to be found.

  The very thought of Lisandro making good on his promise to fight to the death in order to protect her had Maria blinking back tears.

  I can’t bear the thought of ever losing him. I love him.

  He passed her the last of their remaining food. Maria wrapped it and placed it back into the bags, along with the rest of their provisions. Lisandro then carried them over to the saddles. Everything was ready just in case they had to make a hasty escape.