“Yes, it is what I want. I have already accepted his proposal,” she replied.
Maria lifted her hand from under the table and slipped on the emerald betrothal ring. “When I first saw Lisandro in London, I thought he was the villain who had kidnapped me. I did as you would expect from a dutiful daughter and struck him solidly in the face. It took time for me to come to trust him, but I did. And then I fell in love. Papá, this will be more of a marriage than anything I could have ever had with Don Delgado. I ask for your blessing.”
Antonio glanced across at Lisandro. “Did she really hit you?”
Lisandro nodded. “Yes, and she made my nose bleed. My friends had to drag her away before she could strike me a second time.”
“Good. Then you know that my daughter has a temper and won’t be caged. She will demand of you an equal partnership in your union,” replied Antonio.
“I have already agreed to that condition.”
The Duke of Villabona sat, slowly shaking his head. “What a strange day. So many changes—some for the bad, but many for the good. Yes. You may marry my daughter.”
With a loud whoop, Maria leapt to her feet and into Lisandro’s embrace. It didn’t matter that her parents and brother were still seated close by. She set her lips to his and gave him the kiss her heart demanded.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Castle Tolosa
Two weeks later
* * *
“I swear I caught your father wiping a tear away during the service,” said Lisandro.
He set two glasses of champagne down on a nearby table, then climbed into the oversized wooden bathtub to join her. Straddling him, Maria reached out and passed one of the saucer-shaped coupes to him before collecting her own.
Their glasses clinked together.
“He was quite emotional during the church service. It is not every day that a man gives his only daughter away in marriage,” she replied.
The night before the wedding, Maria and Antonio had spent some quiet time together in his study. It had been her last evening as both an Elizondo and as a resident of Castle Villabona. Her father had gifted her several pieces of family jewelry, along with a letter.
The letter was one he had written, with the intention of sending it to the cathedral in Bilbao begging the kidnappers to spare Maria’s life. She had barely read two paragraphs of it before breaking down. Every word spoke of a father’s love—something that would never change, no matter where she was or by which name, she went.
Lisandro brushed a kiss on Maria’s décolletage. “I must confess, I like your father. He is a good man. Which, considering that I was raised to hate him, is quite a transformation of opinion.”
“I know for a fact he thinks you are rather special too. Both he and Diego hold you in high regard,” she replied.
When the time was right, they would host their first family gathering at Castle Tolosa. All the Elizondo side of the family would be invited, along with the dowager Duchess of Tolosa.
But the next few days were for themselves. They were going to spend them alone in their private quarters, camped out on the enormous bed, sleeping, making love, then sleeping again. The only time anyone would see them was when the servants brought them food and more wine.
Lisandro took a sip of his champagne before setting it on a nearby table. Maria lay her head back as he took one of her nipples into his mouth. He slipped a hand below the water and between her legs.
“I am glad we decided to get this tub. I anticipate it will get plenty of use,” he whispered.
She softly gasped as he began to stroke her sex. Her hand trembled, spilling some of the champagne.
He took the glass from her fingers and set it alongside his on the table. Maria rose up and then slowly sunk down, taking the full length of him. With her head settled in the crook of his neck, she proceeded to make sweet love to her husband.
“You know how I have always said I don’t believe in coincidences?” he asked.
Maria gathered what remained of her thoughts. “Yes.”
He thrust up into her. “I do, however, believe in fate. From that night when I first saw you, I knew you and I were meant to be together. That our futures were somehow entwined.”
She lifted her head and stared into the face of the man who had saved her. The man she loved. “I was so disappointed when I discovered who you were. Angry at you— for being you. How could this handsome and divine man standing before me be my enemy?”
Their lips met in a tender kiss as their bodies worked together, reaching as one for that moment of shared ecstasy.
“I love you, Lisandro. And till the day I die, I shall always be grateful that you could see beyond that moment of my outrage and know that we shared one destiny.”
That very evening, the Night Wind slipped quietly away from the Spanish coast and into the cover of the dark Cantabrian Sea. Its main deck was filled with the usual cargo of smuggled goods, all bound for England. In a sealed box, wrapped up to keep it safe from salt and water, was a handwoven Cuenca carpet—a special gift of thanks and love from Maria and Lisandro.
The address was marked on the outside of the box.
Master Toby Moore
C/- RR Coaching Company
82 Gracechurch Street
London, England
Epilogue
Five years later
Castle Villabona
* * *
“Go on.” Maria handed the rope to her son and then pointed toward her father.
Young Esteban de Aguirre Elizondo looked with trepidation at the two goats which were tethered at the end of the lead before trying to offer the rope back to his mother. A ripple of laughter came from the guests standing to one side in the courtyard of Castle Villabona.
“You must do your duty and pay the debt,” said Lisandro.
Esteban moved forward, one hesitant step after the other. To Maria’s relief, the Duke of Villabona rose from his seat and went to greet his grandson. He knelt before the boy.
“What do you have there, Don Esteban?” asked Antonio.
The boy frowned. “The Duke of Tolosa b . . . bu . . .” He turned to his father.
Lisandro came over to his son and bent down beside him. “The Duke of Tolosa burdens me with the task of paying our annual debt. These fine goats are to ensure that another year of peace exists between our families.”
Esteban handed the rope to the Duke of Villabona, then stepped back and bowed. At least he had that part of the ceremony sorted.
Antonio clapped his hands with glee. “Such a wonderful sight. Two goats, my grandson, and my granddaughter. Oh—and my son-in-law.”
A smiling Maria shook her head. The toddler in her arms squirmed and held out her hands to her father.
Lisandro got to his feet and took his fair-haired daughter into his embrace. “He is never going to forgive me, is he?”
After four, nearly five, years of marriage, the Duke of Villabona was still giving Lisandro gentle grief over having the temerity to rescue and then marry his daughter.
“You know secretly, he loves you. How could he not? You sailed all the way to England to save me, then came back and unmasked those who would destroy the Elizondo clan,” she said.
If anyone was owed a goat or two, it was Lisandro, but the tradition had now become the perfect excuse for a big annual party. People from the surrounding villages gathered at Castle Villabona to mingle and celebrate as friends. Seeing all the happy faces was worth more than a thousand goats.
Maria lay her head against her husband’s shoulder, her hand resting on her pregnant belly. It was always good to visit Castle Villabona, but it was no longer her home. As the Duchess of Tolosa she led a busy life, raising children and supporting her husband.
Spain was going through a painful chapter in its history, and keeping the peace took much of Lisandro and Antonio’s time. But it was worth it to build a future for their families and to keep their nation whole.
It seemed forev
er since that fateful day on the beach at Zarautz. She still woke some nights in a blind panic, but Lisandro was always there to calm her down. To let her know she was safe and loved.
Life with him was a blessing, and Maria would always be devoted to her Spanish duke.
* * *
***
Thank you for reading! I hope you loved Lisandro and Maria’s story and the magical landscape of Spain.
* * *
The next book in the London Lords is
PROMISED TO THE SWEDISH PRINCE
* * *
A fake engagement with only one rule.
Don’t fall in love.
Swedish Prince Christian Lind is a prince in name only. As the youngest son of a youngest son, there is no fancy castle or vast wealth awaiting him.
His country has become a side player in the grand politics of Europe, so in order to make his mark he journeys to the one place where it is all happening. London.
Christian’s childhood friend, Countess Erika Jansson is based in the British capital helping her father who is attached to the Swedish envoy. Erika speaks perfect English, she knows all the right people, and most importantly she offers to help Christian with his plans to become an influential diplomat.
But as individuals the walls of society are set high against them, and they quickly discover that they will need to work together in order to succeed. They come up with a clever plan.
A fake engagement.
After an elegant betrothal ball, Christian and Erika quickly become the darlings of the London social scene.
But brief touches and heated glances soon have them both wondering if there is more to their relationship than just old friends helping one another
CLICK HERE TO READ PROMISED TO THE SWEDISH PRINCE
* * *
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A Wild English Rose.
Promised to the Swedish Prince Chapter One
Lake Mälaren, Sweden
January 1813
* * *
Erika’s teeth clattered together as the sleigh hit hard at the bottom of the dip. Tears sprang to her eyes. She loosened her grip on the top rail and attempted to wipe them away. The sleigh bounced again. She fell forward, arms flailing. A strong arm reached across her body and pushed her firmly back.
“Stop messing about and hold on. The next one is going to be even harder.”
She glanced over at Prince Christian, hoping to show him that she was not the least bit impressed with his driving, but his gaze was fixed firmly on the horses and the icy edge of the lake which lay ahead of them. If the next bump was going to be worse than what they had just hit, there was every chance they were going to crash.
“Jag vinner!” came a cry from behind them.
Her head turned and she gasped as a second sleigh sped into view and passed them at a ridiculous speed. She caught sight of the driver. It was Christian’s older brother Gustav. He looked back and gave a taunting laugh.
What the devil is he doing? I thought Christian was the only madman out here on the ice.
Christian yelled, “Dra åt helvete!” He cracked his whip over the top of the horses. Erika tightened her grip on the side of the sleigh and began to pray.
O Lord God. Rule and govern our hearts and minds by your Holy Spirit.
The high-speed run over the ice had now turned into a fearsome race. Brother against brother. From the hard set of his jaw, it was patently clear that Christian was not going to spare either the horses, or the sleigh’s occupants. He would never back down when it came to a challenge from Gustav.
We are going to die.
The sleigh flew up a short rise. A blur of elm trees rose as a towering wall in front of them. Prince Gustav swerved left.
Erika held her breath and braced against the seat. This was going to be a tight turn. Her heart was pounding at a furious rate in her chest. Fear and adrenaline coursed through her body.
They hit a second deadly patch of black ice and the back of the sleigh suddenly slid wildly out to the left. Christian gave a worried glance over his shoulder and Erika’s heart sunk. If he was concerned about how things were going, they were in serious trouble. Perhaps now was the time for her to leap over the side and take her chances.
As he turned his head back toward the front, he grinned at her—manic excitement was plastered all over his face. “Having fun?” he asked.
The horses pulled the sleigh back into line, and they both zigzagged violently in their seats.
Erika mustered a painful smile. No. This could not in any way be construed as entertaining or amusing. What had happened to his offer of a nice, slow ride over the ice and snow? And of her secret hopes of being alone with Christian and having time for them to talk, and perhaps share a private moment?
His impetuous nature is what happened. Of course, something like this was bound to occur. What was I thinking?
“Oh yes. This is great fun. In fact, I haven’t had this much excitement since I broke my arm when I was thirteen, and had to have it reset without laudanum,” she replied.
A scowl appeared on his brow. Trust Christian to think that a highly dangerous and possibly deadly race across the frozen tundra would be something high on Erika’s list of pleasant pursuits. “You did agree to take a ride with me,” he said.
“Yes! A pleasant ride along the side of a frozen lake—not a mad dash to my death,” she bit back.
“I promise you won’t come to any harm. And once I have rid us of Gustav, we can take the sleigh down to the water’s edge and rest the horses. I would like to talk to you in private before we head back to the palace.”
She nodded. “Alright, but in the meantime could you try to be careful and not kill us both?”
Prince Gustav was still ahead of them, but the back of his sleigh was now sliding about on the ice. From the way he was wielding his whip, it was clear he was doing his utmost to regain control.
Erika chanced another look in Christian’s direction. The hint of a smile threatened on his lips. Any moment now they were going to crash, but the lunatic was still looking for a way to overtake his brother.
With the wind whipping through his fair hair, he looked every inch the wild, untamed Viking. His strong arms held the reins under his command.
“Hold on tight. I am going to make this next turn at speed,” said Christian.
“Oh, sweet lord,” she muttered. So much for him being careful.
Erika would have made the sign of the holy cross if it hadn’t meant letting go of the sleigh’s top rail. She sent another silent prayer to heaven.
“Ya!” he cried, urging the horses on.
A large elm tree loomed into view and Christian turned the horses’ heads to the left. They were going to go around it. She hoped.
Up ahead of them, Prince Gustav appeared to have brought his sleigh back under his control and had slowed into the turn. Tracking wide of the trees, he successfully avoided a ridge of sharp rock which jutted out of the ice.
Christian pulled hard on the reins and a loud thwack cracked through the air. One of the reins had broken and it flew out of his hand. “Herrejävlar!” cursed Christian.
They were headed straight for the rock. The sleigh raced at a punishing speed. At the exact moment Erika realized that they were going to crash, time slowed to a crawl. She saw everything in slow, sickening detail as the disaster unfurled around her.
“Erika!” Christian cried.
The horses leaped over the stone, but the front bar of the sleigh smashed headlong into it. When they hit, they went in hard. Erika’s world descended into chaos.
She was thrown clear—her body cartwheeled through the air. There was a momentary glimpse of sky before her field of vision was flipped and filled with the white of ice and snow. The ground came at her in a furious rush.
This is going to hurt.
She landed with a sickening thud on the ice, her breath whooshing out of her lungs. Pain tore through her body.
Ooh, my god.
If she could have sucked in enough air, Erika would have screamed. Instead she lay on her back, stunned and winded on the hard ground. Every inch of her body was on fire. Even breathing was agony.
When she opened her eyes, her sight was filled with the grey snow clouds which hung overhead. The dark sky gave her a moment’s pause.
Am I dead?
There was a scuffle of boots on the snow.
“Erika, dear lord, are you alright?”
A familiar face swam into view. Blue eyes full of concern stared down at her. Christian. He was such a divinely handsome man. If she had died, then at least she had gone to heaven.
“Please say something. Anything. Tell me where it hurts. What can I do?” he pleaded.
She sucked in a short breath, then took in another deeper one. Tears sprang to her eyes.
“I hurt everywhere. I think you might already have killed me, so I would suggest you have done more than enough,” she replied.
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