The Knight's Forbidden Princess

by Carol Townend

  Enrique lifted his eyebrows. ‘You’re going back for the old—for the other woman? Why? Surely she can return to the palace?’

  Princess Leonor gripped Rodrigo’s hand. ‘Sir, I think you have lost your wits. My father will kill her for aiding in our escape. Lord Rodrigo, we must find her—and quickly.’

  ‘I agree your duenna must be found, but circumspection is called for.’

  She bit her lip. ‘Circumspection?’

  ‘If we retrace our steps today, there’s a strong chance we’ll run into your father’s men.’

  Enrique nodded. ‘Aye. Suicide.’

  ‘Thank you, Cousin. Suffice it to say, we would be grossly outnumbered and possibly captured. My lady, I’ve already had the pleasure of your father’s hospitality and I’m not anxious to renew the experience.’

  Enrique shoved his hand through his hair. ‘I couldn’t agree more. I’m for home, and the sooner, the better.’ He looked down the road and shuddered. ‘We may have reached the borderlands, but your father has a long reach. I’m for joining Pedro inside.’ Nodding briefly at the Princess, he went into the inn.

  The Princess watched him go, a pleat in her brow. ‘That man is your cousin?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘I cannot like him.’ She glanced down at her hand, realised it still rested on his and, blushing rosily, released him. ‘My apologies. My lord, are you certain we must desert Inés?’

  ‘For the time being. Once we reach Córdoba, I shall send scouts in search of her.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I seem to recall you telling me that Inés came to Granada with your mother.’

  ‘Yes, she did. Why?’

  Rodrigo held up his hand. ‘Bear with me. Would you say your duenna was a resourceful woman?’

  A faint smile appeared. ‘There’s no doubt of that.’

  ‘And would you say she intended to return to your mother’s family?’

  ‘It’s possible, though I don’t see how that will help us. Inés refused to give us the name of Mamá’s family, so I’ve no idea where she came from.’

  Thoughtfully, Rodrigo drummed his fingers on the table. He had an idea as to how they might discover where the Princess’s mother had been born, but he didn’t like to think about it because it involved Lord Jaime de Almodóvar. Lord Jaime was a neighbour and, despite the closeness of their estates, Rodrigo was in the habit of forgetting his very existence.

  He stared at the Princess and wrestled with the idea of mentioning him. Lord Jaime would undoubtedly know where Lady Juana had been born. Would he be willing to help?

  Lord Jaime had a good reputation. It made sense to ask him. Rodrigo rubbed his chin. Even after all this time the idea of meeting Lord Jaime wasn’t pleasant. Perhaps a letter would suffice. He opened his mouth to mention the connection, when it occurred to him that they might find the Princess’s duenna before that became necessary.

  He cleared his throat. ‘When we arrive at Córdoba, you have my word that scouts will be sent to find your duenna.’

  Yes, that must serve. His scouts would surely find Inés, and Lord Jaime could be left in peace.

  * * *

  By the time they reached the outskirts of Córdoba, Leonor was almost falling off her horse with fatigue. Her legs had gone numb and her eyes felt as though they were full of sand.

  ‘We can rest shortly,’ Count Rodrigo said, as they came to a long many-arched bridge. ‘The city gates are on the other side of the river. The bridge is Roman. It was built long before your people came to Córdoba.’

  Uncertain as to whether his tone held censure, Leonor shot him a sidelong glance. She learned nothing, his face was a mask. Still, it was a relief to know they were almost at journey’s end. She roused herself to take note of her surroundings.

  Midstream, a watermill was slowly turning. Other mills lined the riverbank, although with the river reduced to a narrow trickle along the middle, it was far too low for the bankside mills to be working. The hot summer, she supposed. When they passed through the city gates, their horses’ hoofbeats faded, the streets of Córdoba were strewn with straw. There were palm trees everywhere.

  ‘The large building on the right is the cathedral,’ Lord Rodrigo told her. ‘It was once an ancient mosque.’

  A cathedral that had once been a mosque? The architecture was reminiscent of parts of the Alhambra and traces of Arabic were visible on the outer walls. Leonor felt very ignorant about life here and, not for the first time, wished that her father had allowed her to learn more about the world at large.

  They plunged down a narrow street and under several arches. A pair of wrought-iron gates was flanked with crimson-clad guards. Clattering past the guards, the Count drew rein in a sunny courtyard.

  ‘Welcome to my town house, my lady.’

  His town house? Lord Rodrigo was a garrison commander. Surely the garrison was quartered inside the Spanish King’s palace, the Alcázar?

  ‘We’re not going to the palace?’

  ‘The palace is full of prying eyes, you’ll be more comfortable as my personal guest.’

  Leonor dismounted. The walls around the courtyard were so white, it hurt to look at them. She was vaguely aware of vines tumbling through trellises, of terracotta pots overflowing with purple blooms. The house was larger than it looked from the street.

  How strange, she hadn’t expected Lord Rodrigo to have a house like this. Ever since he’d taken her necklace to pay the landlord at the first inn, she’d visualised him living in cramped quarters in the Spanish King’s garrison.

  ‘My lord!’ A smiling groom ran up to lead the horses away. ‘We heard your ransom had been paid. Welcome back.’ The groom clicked his fingers and another groom stepped forward. ‘Gaspar, alert Sir Arnau, tell him Lord Rodrigo is home.’

  The grooms’ tunics were emblazoned with a red shield. Leonor realised the device on it—a black horse—must be the Count’s insignia. Heavens, the tunics were particularly fine. They were fashioned from what looked like Granadan silk and the black horses were most cunningly worked.

  ‘The black horse, it is your device, my lord?’

  ‘Aye.’

  Several other people converged on the courtyard, all smiling from ear to ear. Lord Rodrigo was clearly much liked and respected.

  Leonor’s puzzlement grew. Everyone here was clearly well fed and well disciplined, indeed, they looked as though they were the retainers of a very wealthy lord. Yet if Lord Rodrigo was wealthy, why had he taken her pendant?

  She shook out her skirts and found more to puzzle over. There was a tinkling fountain in the centre of the courtyard; there were tiled archways leading in all directions. The place was full of well-dressed servants rushing hither and yon. She would be the first to admit she knew nothing of the life of an impoverished Spanish knight, but this house surely resembled the home of an incredibly successful merchant.

  He offered her his arm. ‘You will want refreshment, my lady.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She met his gaze. ‘My lord, I admit I am startled. I did not expect you to have a house like this.’

  His lips twitched. ‘Castle Álvarez lies at the heart of my estate, a few miles to the north, this is simply my town house. I thought you would appreciate a rest before we continue.’

  This was simply his town house? And it was filled with a bevy of servants? Had she completely misjudged him?

  Mind spinning, Leonor rested her hand on his arm and went with him into a cool chamber. He led her to a gilded couch and she sank on to a plump cushion with a sigh of relief.

  ‘We will rest here for an hour, my lady. It will give you the chance to recover before we arrive at the castle.’

  ‘You are most considerate, my lord.’

  A servant appeared with a silver tray. Silver. Leonor was offered wine or pomegranate and orange juice. Choosing the fruit
juice, Leonor cradled her cup in her hands and stared at Lord Rodrigo through her eyelashes.

  This man was wealthy, a count with acres to his name. He had deliberately misled her over his need for money to pay the innkeeper, he had let her assume he was short of funds. Why?

  He was keeping something from her.

  She opened her mouth to ask what it might be, when he forestalled her.

  ‘My lady, there’s something I should mention before we continue to the castle. My mother, Lady Isabel, lives there. The two of you are bound to meet.’ His mouth tightened. ‘I need to ask for your discretion when we first arrive. I shall show you to your chamber and it would be best if you remained there for a while.’

  Leonor clutched the cup of fruit juice. ‘You will make me a prisoner?’

  His eyebrows lifted. ‘Certainly not, I am merely warning you. My mother is likely to be distressed and meeting you too soon may make matters worse.’

  Her heart dropped, he was talking about Diego. ‘My lord, Lady Isabel will loathe the very sight of me.’ Rising, she set down her cup and came to stand before him. ‘I think I would prefer to be lodged at the Alcázar.’

  Lord Rodrigo shook his head. ‘That is out of the question, you will be safer on my land.’

  ‘Very well.’ Here in Córdoba, Leonor was well out of her depth, what else could she do but agree with him? She sighed. ‘You must hate me too.’

  ‘What I feel for you, my lady, is complicated. I am in your debt for helping Inigo in prison. And for intervening on the road to Granada. For that I am certain I owe you my life. I thank you.’ Gravely, he bowed. ‘The three of us owe you a debt of gratitude, and I will not forget it. I will guard you with my life.’ He paused, studying her face with a peculiar intensity that brought heat to her cheeks. He seemed to take this as a signal, for his face relaxed and that slow, attractive smile appeared. ‘Rest assured, my lady, I don’t hate you, I am coming to see that would be impossible.’

  Leonor’s cheeks burned. Why was he staring at her mouth? It was extremely unsettling, it made her nervous and shaky. Impossible though it seemed, she had the impression that he was thinking about kissing her. As she looked up at him, her impression deepened into certainty. He wanted to kiss her.

  ‘My lady, I beg leave to tell you that I admire you. Greatly. For a moment, I crave your indulgence.’

  ‘My lord?’

  He dipped his head and kissed her.

  And Leonor allowed it. His lips were warm. Soft. In a heartbeat, she was kissing him back, she could do little else. Strong fingers gripped her shoulders, they were gentle and firm and her skin warmed to his touch. Constraint wasn’t necessary. Curious at the whirl of sensations he unleashed inside her, Leonor angled her body closer to his.

  Lord Rodrigo’s body heat spoke of comfort, his height of protection. His smell—a beguiling combination of man, woodsmoke and soap—told her that he would never harm her. Her head swam. Her limbs weakened. This man was a sorcerer and his touch was intoxicating, parts of her body that had slept her entire life sprang joyfully into wakefulness.

  And all the while his mouth moved gently on hers. It was as though he was silently demanding that she open her mouth. He was simply irresistible.

  She couldn’t help herself, she relaxed her jaw and his tongue swept in. His tongue! She could barely stand. This man had the knack of making her body believe it had been waiting her whole life for just this moment.

  This was most certainly seduction. And Lord Rodrigo was very good at it. Before she knew it, she was lying on the couch with him on his knees on the floor beside her. He pushed her veil aside and pressed a string of kisses down one cheek and around her neck.

  Footsteps hurried to the doorway. A man stood there, clearing his throat.

  ‘My lord?’

  ‘Sir Arnau.’ A final kiss was pressed to her cheek. With a crooked smile, Lord Rodrigo rose and gestured his man forward. ‘You have messages for me?’

  ‘Just so.’ Sir Arnau smiled. ‘My lord, first let me say we are most thankful to have you back in one piece. You suffered no hurts?’

  ‘I am well, I thank you.’

  Sir Arnau’s gaze flickered briefly to Leonor, sitting hot-cheeked and flustered on the couch, hastily straightening her clothes and tucking her hair beneath her veil. ‘Your mother is most anxious to see you.’

  ‘Thank you, Arnau, I am aware of that. Princess Leonor and I had a wearying journey. We shall proceed to the castle when we have had an hour to recover.’

  ‘Princess Leonor?’ Lord Rodrigo’s knight drew back sharply as his gaze swung back to Leonor. He looked as though he had been struck in the face. ‘My lord, who exactly is this lady?’

  ‘That is not your concern. We shall require fresh horses in an hour. Alert Captain Vidal and inform him that I will require an escort of half a dozen knights. That will be all.’

  ‘Very good, my lord.’ Sending a final, suspicious look at Leonor, Sir Arnau bowed himself out.

  Leonor gnawed at her lower lip as it dawned on her that the next few days were going to be far more awkward than she had anticipated. The death of Lord Rodrigo’s brother practically guaranteed that she would run the gauntlet of hate and prejudice every step of the way. And Lady Isabel lived at the castle! If Sir Arnau spread word that she was the Sultan’s daughter, Lady Isabel wouldn’t be the only one to hate her, the entire castle would be out for her blood.

  ‘Your man has worked out who I am, and he doesn’t like it,’ she said. ‘What will he do?’

  Lord Rodrigo’s smile was reassuring. ‘Arnau’s my steward. He is the most discreet man alive, he will say nothing.’

  Leonor wasn’t so sure. The expression on Sir Arnau’s face spoke of generations of mistrust. It wouldn’t be overturned in a day. ‘My lord, perhaps we should alter our plans. There must be somewhere else I might stay. Would you grant me an escort to visit your friend Lord Inigo? I need to see Alba. My sister and I would like to set up our own household. The sooner we learn to live independently, the better.’

  Lord Rodrigo’s face darkened. ‘As yet, I have no idea whether Lord Inigo has reached Córdoba. And until I hear from him, you are coming with me to Castle Álvarez. We leave in an hour.’

  ‘But, my lord...’

  ‘One hour, my lady, you have one hour.’

  * * *

  Rodrigo’s late father, Lord Gregorio, had thought it prudent to maintain a small troop of knights at his Córdoban town house, and Rodrigo had seen no reason to change the tradition.

  He left Leonor with a maidservant washing away the worst of the journey and marched straight to the guardroom. Sir Arnau’s reaction to Princess Leonor concerned him, although following Diego’s death, it was understandable. He grimaced. At heart, Arnau was a fair and generous man, he must realise that the Princess wasn’t responsible for the actions of her father and his soldiers. All of Spain knew that the women in the Sultan’s harem were kept ignorant of what went on outside the palace walls. However, it was one thing to know it intellectually and another to accept it emotionally.

  As far as Rodrigo’s retainers were concerned, the Princess would be guilty by association. His mother would want nothing to do with her; his retainers might shun her.

  Briefly, he closed his eyes. He hadn’t planned on kissing her. He’d ventured on to forbidden ground there, though in truth he couldn’t regret it. Her response had been so sweet—the innocence, the startled gasp of surprise. Mingled with the taste of oranges and pomegranates, he’d tasted freshness and welcome. Welcome such as he’d never felt since he’d been a youth and had fallen hard and fast for his first—and only—love.

  He mustn’t kiss her again. Princess Leonor came from another world and it was his duty to return her to her father in as pure a state as when she left him.

  That innocence and purity of spirit was devastatingly attractive, and he’d be
en drawn to her from that first meeting in the prison. She had been so swift to help Inigo. Of course, she’d had her motives for doing so. And yet...

  Sweet Mary, the Princess’s trusting, innocent kisses had him so befuddled with longing that he’d entirely forgotten himself when Arnau walked in. He should never have referred to her as a princess. That would not happen again.

  Princess Leonor’s reaction to Arnau was almost as troubling as Arnau’s reaction to her. If she took it into her head that all she would meet in Castle Álvarez was hatred, she was quite capable of taking off on her own. And that he could not allow. If necessary, he’d force his protection on her until Sultan Tariq sent his guard to take her home.

  I will keep her safe.

  When the Sultan’s envoy arrived at the castle, she must be in residence. Otherwise, all hell would break loose. More lives would be put at risk.

  All of which meant that Rodrigo must speak to his captain personally. He didn’t think Leonor would attempt to flee his protection, but he had to be sure.

  I will protect her.

  He pushed through the guardhouse door, his captain was standing before a trestle table examining an array of bits and stirrups.

  ‘Captain Vidal?’

  ‘Welcome back, my lord. We are all relieved to see you.’

  ‘Muchas gracias. Captain, I shall be returning to the castle in a little under an hour.’

  ‘Yes, my lord, Sir Arnau has already informed me.’

  ‘Good. Were you also told that I am travelling with a lady who is at present in my charge?’

  ‘No, my lord, Sir Arnau mentioned no lady.’

  Captain Vidal’s expression was blank. Too blank. It was entirely possible that he thought the lady was Rodrigo’s mistress. Rodrigo held down a sigh, perhaps that was inevitable. After his broken betrothal to Lady Sancha, Rodrigo had had his share of mistresses, although he had never thought to take one to Castle Álvarez. To do so would be to insult his mother. However, in this case, it was probably better the captain thought Princess Leonor was his mistress than he discovered who she really was.

  ‘The lady must be carefully watched,’ Rodrigo said. ‘She is not to leave our party, for any reason.’