The Knight's Forbidden Princess

by Carol Townend

  He straightened. I love her?

  He couldn’t stop looking at her. He searched for the tiny grey flecks in her eyes and smiled at his capacity for self-delusion. It hadn’t been a chivalrous desire to aid a princess in distress that had led him to Sir Alfredo. That had been true at the beginning, but it was true no longer. Nor had he been driven by the desire to further a propitious alliance; Princess Leonor would bring him nothing save her lovely self.

  Love had driven him to Baeza.

  Love had tied his guts in a tangle when he’d returned home to find her missing.

  I love her.

  ‘Very well, my lady,’ he said, gesturing towards a low divan positioned in the shade under one of the arches. ‘I will share the news from Baeza. But first, where’s Inigo?’

  ‘He’s not here, my lord,’ Princess Alba said. ‘He went to the horse fair.’

  * * *

  The next half hour passed with Rodrigo telling the sisters about their cousin. ‘Sir Alfredo’s looking forward to meeting you. He told me you would be more than welcome to stay at Baeza.’

  Leonor looked at him, frowning slightly. ‘And Inés? Has he heard from Inés?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. However, Sir Alfredo has strong hopes that your duenna will find her way to Baeza if my men cannot locate her. So, as soon as arrangements can be made, the two of you may visit him.’

  Leonor fiddled with the fringe on her veil. ‘Thank you, my lord. It was kind of you to go to such trouble.’

  Alba leaned forward. ‘My lord, you have my thanks too. After I have consulted with Lord Inigo, I will let you know my decision.’

  Rodrigo blinked. ‘You’re not certain you’ll go?’ He glanced Leonor’s way. ‘I thought you were set on meeting your family.’

  ‘We are.’ Princess Alba smiled. ‘However, I have matters to attend to in Córdoba first.’

  Leonor cleared her throat. ‘Speaking for myself, I’ve decided I would prefer to meet our Spanish relatives on neutral ground.’

  Alba murmured agreement.

  At a loss, Rodrigo stared at them. The Princesses had braved much to meet their Spanish family. Yet as soon as their goal was within reach, they balked. Perhaps it was understandable. Leonor was, as Rodrigo knew to his cost, deeply wary of putting herself in a vulnerable position. The Sultan’s letter had obviously unnerved her.

  ‘You think your family will take advantage of you?’ he asked, looking at Leonor. ‘My lady, I assure you Sir Alfredo is anxious to meet you, both of you. You need have no fear of him.’

  Leonor’s smile was strained, a mirror of Alba’s. ‘None the less, my lord, we prefer to meet our cousin on neutral ground.’

  Rodrigo had little option but to agree. Locking horns with her would achieve nothing. As for the rest—his declaration of love and acceptance as a potential suitor by her Spanish relatives—all that could wait until she’d learned that not all men maltreated their women.

  Until that day dawned, he must bide his time. In Leonor’s present unsettled frame of mind, a declaration of love would surely only make matters worse.

  He gave her a wry smile. ‘Have you and your sister talked yourselves to a standstill?’

  ‘My lord?’

  ‘You’ve had three days together, so are you ready to come home yet?’

  Leonor laughed and came gracefully to her feet. ‘Yes, I think we’ve caught up.’ Her voice warmed. ‘It’s a relief to know we can see each other whenever we want.’

  * * *

  Rodrigo helped Leonor into the saddle and they rode through the straw-strewn streets at an easy pace. Leonor’s eyes were, as ever, alight with interest as she looked about her. She hadn’t the slightest idea that she’d put him on the rack when he’d returned to find her gone and he wasn’t about to admit it to her now.

  The streets around the cathedral were lined with market stalls. Goods sweltered under canvas awnings. The heat was at its height, so the crowd had thinned, though a few brave souls were picking over the merchandise.

  As they wove steadily through the townsfolk, Rodrigo watched her drink it all in. She smiled at children eating sweetmeats on the steps of the cathedral; her gaze lingered on the brocades gleaming from a cloth merchant’s stall...

  Leonor wasn’t made to be immured in a palace—thank God, she’d escaped. It would be a crime to cage a woman like Leonor.

  They reached the goldsmiths’ quarter. Here, the whitewashed houses had shutters that could be let down to form stalls. Several were closed until it was cooler, but a handful remained open. Leonor’s attention fastened on an array of bracelets displayed on black velvet.

  ‘You like these?’ Rodrigo found himself thinking that if she wanted the stars he would try to give them to her. Saints, what was wrong with him? He’d never felt like this with Sancha. Unable to help himself, knocked back by the intensity of his need to make her his, he reined in. ‘If you wish, we can dismount so you can look more closely.’

  She gave him an abstracted smile. ‘No, thank you, my lord, I still have the jewellery I brought with me. I was simply wondering what price such things fetch, here in Córdoba.’

  He felt a flicker of unease. ‘You’re not thinking of selling your jewellery?’

  ‘Not at present.’ She turned her gaze back to the goldsmith’s stall. ‘However, that time might come. I have observed that, outside the palace, money is more useful than jewellery and my store of coins is small. I’m glad to know where to come, if I need to exchange my jewels for money.’

  Suddenly, at the forefront of his mind, was the memory of Leonor in that squalid prison, handing over her bracelet to pay for Inigo’s treatment. Rodrigo’s skin chilled. It had never occurred to him until now, but it seemed likely that the Nasrid royal family were in the habit of gifting their servants and subjects with jewels to reward them for services. When under their father’s roof, the Princesses wouldn’t have needed money.

  He stared at her profile, unable to read her. She was a mysterious woman and something in her tone had set alarm bells ringing. What was she up to? He gripped the reins. Undoubtedly, his Princess—and, yes, she was his, though she had yet to accept it—placed a high value on her independence. Rodrigo had no wish to curtail her freedom, but she must be made to understand that here in Spain, naivety could be dangerous.

  Dios mío, she couldn’t wander about offering gold bracelets to all and sundry. She was so vulnerable. He felt fiercely determined not to let anyone take advantage of her. For her safety, he must discover what she had in mind.

  ‘My lady, you must ask if you need assistance, I’d be honoured to help you.’

  Her head turned, but her eyes were filled with suspicion and his heart sank.

  ‘My lord?’

  He drew in a steadying breath, it was obvious she wasn’t ready to trust him. Had her father ruined her for all time?

  I will teach her to trust me. I will win her.

  ‘You need not sell your jewellery. My lady, I will give you all the help you need.’

  She stiffened. ‘Thank you, but I do not require help.’

  Smiling, he shook his head. ‘Leonor—my lady—you are thinking of selling your jewellery.’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Why is that?’

  She gave a tight smile. ‘I am uncertain whether to tell you.’ Her smile faded and she bit her lip. ‘In truth, I do need help. However, I’m confident you won’t give it.’

  They’d reached the end of the goldsmiths’ street. The city wall was in sight. They’d almost reached the gate.

  ‘Try me. Please, my lady, go on.’ She was, he noted, sitting very stiffly in the saddle.

  ‘Very well, my lord.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘I need to return to the Alhambra Palace and I’d be eternally grateful if you would serve as my escort.’

  It took a moment for Rodrigo to digest what she had said, and when he unders
tood, he couldn’t believe his ears. Leonor—return to the palace?

  No! Every fibre of his being rebelled. ‘That’s impossible.’

  ‘Is it? You brought me here, surely you can take me back?’

  ‘Holy Mother, you’ve been banished. You’re an exile. Leonor, you feared your father before he banished you, and now—what will his men do if they catch you? Think. Al-Andalus is lost to you for ever. Lost. Saints preserve us, you fought for your freedom and you’ve won it, why the devil would you go back?’ Words failed him. And then he couldn’t help himself, he reached for her mare’s reins and hauled her horse close to his. He leaned towards her. ‘I forbid it.’

  Her eyes flashed. ‘Forbid? My lord, you forget yourself. You have no authority over me. Unhand my mare.’

  ‘Not until you put this foolhardy idea aside. You cannot go back. I won’t let you.’ If she returned, her father would kill her, just as she had told him at the outset.

  Her jaw set. ‘I shall go back, my lord, with or without your blessing.’

  Her voice was icy and for the space of a heartbeat it was like looking at a stranger. Did he know her at all? Why risk her hard-won freedom to return to a place she loathed? What had she said, that wild horses wouldn’t drag her back to the palace? What was going on? If only she would confide in him.

  She is desperate. Desperate and afraid.

  ‘My lady, why are you even thinking about this?’ Rodrigo was struggling to sound calm. ‘Your father is a vengeful man. What’s so important that you would risk your freedom for it?’

  ‘My sister.’

  ‘You mean Princess Constanza, the one who remained behind?’

  ‘I have to speak to her.’ And then the words tumbled out in a rush. ‘My lord, Constanza has a nervous disposition, she fears the unknown. I must tell her that if she can get to the borders of Father’s kingdom, he will not pursue her. She needs to know that Alba and I are safe, and that our Spanish family has been found. She needs to know that a refuge awaits her, if she needs it.’

  Relief filled him, Leonor wasn’t trying to return to life in the Sultan’s palace, she was simply trying to help her sister. Sisterly affection notwithstanding, Leonor had to understand that her plan was far too dangerous. ‘My lady, Princess Constanza chose to stay behind.’

  ‘We belong together.’

  She sounded so mournful an ache bloomed in Rodrigo’s heart. ‘Princess Constanza didn’t want to leave when she had the opportunity. Therefore she must be content to remain there.’

  Her nose lifted. ‘I have to go back, I have to know Constanza is well, and she really needs to know that our cousin has been found in case that makes a difference.’

  ‘You are not your sister’s keeper.’

  ‘My lord, you don’t understand. Please consider—’

  ‘I will consider nothing. You will not be returning to Granada. This conversation is at an end.’

  ‘I want to save her.’ Her eyes flashed, dark as obsidian. ‘You, my lord, are a hypocrite. You went after Diego.’

  Rodrigo’s nostrils flared. He felt as though she’d punched him in the gut. ‘That was a different case entirely.’

  ‘Was it? I thought you’d understand. Clearly, I was wrong.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘Thank you, my lord, you have fulfilled my every expectation.’

  Jerking her reins free, she set her heels to her mare’s flanks and cantered towards the city gates, her veil trailing behind her like a banner.

  Rodrigo spurred after her, jaw tight. Clearly his Princess didn’t like to be crossed. That comment about Diego had been particularly low. Although—he grimaced—perhaps he had expressed himself rather strongly. He hadn’t been able to stop himself, the idea of her falling into her father’s clutches was torture.

  She needed time to cool down. They both did. They’d talk again when they were calmer. Leonor must see sense.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Leonor slipped quietly up the winding stairs to her bedchamber. Thankfully, there was no sign of Ana. Finding the most practical gown, she bundled it up in a cloak and shoved it beneath the bed. She removed her jewels from the box Lord Rodrigo had lent her and, hands shaking only a little, stowed them in a purse ready to tie about her waist.

  Images flitted through Leonor’s mind like butterflies in the gardens of the Alhambra—the lacy plasterwork ceilings; the pools silvered by moonlight; the delicate fretwork on the shutters. Shutters that closed out the world.

  Sinking down on the edge of her bed, she hugged her middle. This was terror, she felt sick with nerves.

  I must go back. Without Count Rodrigo’s knowledge.

  The palace was a gilded cage and the idea of Constanza stuck there for the rest of her life was intolerable. Constanza deserved another chance to choose freedom.

  It’s my fault she stayed behind.

  Leonor should have known Constanza needed coaxing. She was determined to make amends.

  Constanza must be told that the Sultan’s reach ended at the borders of Al-Andalus; she must be told that there were knights in Córdoba capable of protecting them as diligently as their father—chivalrous knights who had no need to browbeat women to force them to their will. Furthermore, it would surely give Constanza an extra push to learn that their mother came from Baeza and that their Spanish kin had been found.

  In Castile, Constanza need never feel alone. In Castile, the three of them could be together.

  Once Constanza understood that she would be safe in Spain, she would surely find the courage to escape.

  Leonor pushed to her feet. Constanza wasn’t going to moulder for the rest of her life behind the palace wall, not if she could help it. However, she wasn’t fool enough to attempt the journey on her own. Rodrigo had refused to help her; would Miguel do the same?

  There was one way to find out.

  * * *

  Miguel was talking to Lady Isabel in the courtyard. The warmth and affection on Lady Isabel’s face gave Leonor pause. With no sign of the hostility Leonor had witnessed in the orchard, she looked a different woman.

  Discreetly gesturing at Miguel to let him know that she needed to speak to him, Leonor ducked into the stable.

  Constanza had to be told that the skies wouldn’t fall if she ran away.

  She prayed for the words to convince Miguel to help her.

  * * *

  Shortly after noon the following day, Rodrigo was preparing to ride out on patrol when his mother approached him in the bailey.

  ‘Rodrigo, a moment, if you please. Miguel asked me to give you a message.’

  Rodrigo set his foot in the stirrup. ‘I wondered why he missed breakfast, it’s not like him. Has he gone into town?’

  ‘I... No.’ Lady Isabel clasped her hands at her waist. Her colour was unusually high and her gaze was firmly focused on the cross on the chapel roof.

  Ice trickled down Rodrigo’s spine. He knew that expression. His mother looked guilty of all things, not to mention edgy. Slowly, he removed his foot from the stirrup. ‘Mamá?’

  ‘Miguel sends his regrets and asks that Joaquin squire you for the next few days.’

  Still she wouldn’t look at him. What the devil was going on? ‘Very well. Miguel’s a free man, he’s served me faithfully and is loyal to the bone. I am content for him to have some time for his own affairs.’

  His mother gave a shaky sigh and finally met his gaze. ‘I doubt you will be content when you hear where he has gone. And with whom.’

  Dread filled him. ‘This concerns Lady Leonor?’

  His mother gaze a jerky nod. ‘They set out together before first light.’

  Rodrigo gripped his mother’s arm. ‘Where have they gone?’

  Even as the words left his mouth, a sick lurch gave him his answer. Leonor had persuaded Miguel to take her back to the Alhambra Palace. Merciful heaven, ever sin
ce their disagreement, Leonor had been on his mind. He’d been waiting for her to cool down enough to have a rational discussion about the best means of getting a message to Princess Constanza. He’d left it too long.

  ‘They’ve gone to Granada,’ his mother said. ‘To the palace, I believe.’

  Rodrigo glared at her. ‘Dios mío, why didn’t you tell me immediately?’

  His mother’s gaze was keen as a hawk’s. ‘She’s a Nasrid princess, isn’t she?’

  Rodrigo struggled for control. ‘Mamá, Lady Leonor’s mother was Spanish. And even if it were otherwise, I would ask you to accept her as you accepted Miguel.’

  His mother’s mouth looked pinched. ‘There’s no comparison between Miguel and that woman. Miguel is not a Nasrid. That woman’s father is responsible for Diego’s death.’

  ‘That woman’s name is Lady Leonor and I’d be grateful if you would remember it.’ He sighed. ‘Be reasonable, Mamá, you cannot lay Diego’s death at Leonor’s door. It was not her fault.’

  His mother gasped. ‘She’s Leonor to you, I see. Saints preserve us, you’re in love with her. A Nasrid princess!’

  ‘Yes, Mother. I love her. Forgive me for believing that your heart was big enough to accept her as you accepted Miguel.’

  His mother’s eyes glittered, hard as jet. ‘It is you who is unreasonable. Miguel was a little boy when you brought him here, that woman is a Nasrid.’

  Rodrigo turned away, he was furious, mainly with himself. He couldn’t blame his mother for allowing Leonor’s departure. A princess wouldn’t be in the habit of taking no for an answer, he should have worked out what she would do.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me, Mamá, I must prepare for another journey.’

  His mother went chalk white. ‘Rodrigo, no! I cannot lose another son.’

  ‘You should have thought of that before allowing Leonor and Miguel to set out.’ Then, seeing the stricken expression on his mother’s face, he relented and softened his voice. ‘Mamá, you are not going to lose me.’

  * * *

  Rodrigo led a small contingent of knights into Al-Andalus. They reached the foot of the gully that ran alongside the palace wall under cover of darkness. Long hours of riding, when day had blurred into night, meant they were, to a man, exhausted.