Passionate Pursuit

by Tina Donahue

  He lifted his chin. “What spirit you seemed to have gained since we last spoke. Remember these moments well. They will not last. They never do, no matter what Don Tomás may have said.” He strode past.

  “Wait.” He practically ran. Beatriz grabbed a candle from the cabinet and caught up. “What do you mean they never do?”

  Nuncio had led her to believe that Tomás hadn’t behaved with anyone here as he had with her. Before that, he’d been away fighting the Moors, his actions at the fortaleza not Nuncio’s concern, including any girls Tomás had taken there in between his battles.

  Her stomach sank. Tomás had said he’d enjoyed life, which surely meant women, during those times he hadn’t fought for the Crown. Perhaps Nuncio had referred to that. Perhaps not.

  He gave her a cold smile and disappeared into the darkness.

  As eager as she’d been to see Tomás, she was now as reluctant. Picturing him with another woman gave her pause, when it shouldn’t have.

  Men had lovers and mistresses even after they wed. Still, she’d hoped to be the first servant Tomás had desired here or anywhere else. Not much to ask for when her future with him was stillborn.

  Heartsick, she finally slogged down the stairs, her candle providing scant illumination. The castle was dark, cool, and quiet, the other servants in their quarters or at their tasks in a far part of the structure.

  She reached the hall prior to Tomás’s study. A figure skulked in the shadows. She stopped short, her breath catching. Nuncio? She lifted her candle.

  Rufio. He stalked toward her, smiling suggestively.

  Her skin crawled. She wanted to flee but sensed he might consider her escape a game and run her down. If she bolted to the study, he would surely follow and might start rumors about her and Tomás.

  Acting on impulse, she hurried to him before he could reach her. “How fortunate to see you here.” She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him farther away from the study. “We must speak.”

  Surprise crossed his face. “We can go to the kitchen. No one is there.”

  She released him. “Here is fine. As you know, I fear Nuncio.”

  Rufio rocked on his heels, his chest puffed out. “I can handle him.”

  “And lose your position if he catches you with me at this hour? I beg you, protect yourself and Yolanda.”

  “That annoying brat? Why her?”

  Beatriz told him what Yolanda had said. “Please check on her for me. Yolanda has to keep an eye on the tallow and wax. Make certain no one lurks around bothering or hurting her. Guard the entrance to where she works all night if you must.”

  Rufio made a face. “What do I get if I do?”

  “You can have my wages as soon as I receive them.”

  “What if I want something else?”

  She forced herself not to step back, showing fear or disgust. “The wages will have to do. Take them or leave them.”

  He shrugged. “After I waste my night protecting her, you best pay up.”

  Again, he’d proven he was like most men, thinking only of himself and money. “You have my word. Go, please.”

  “In good time.” He stepped closer.

  She backed away and stopped at movement past his shoulder. “Leave now.” She spoke softly. “Señor Nuncio is behind you.”

  Rather than handling the old man as he’d promised, Rufio looked over, pivoted, and hurried away. Beatriz didn’t bother to speak to Nuncio or try to explain herself. He already thought the worst of her.

  Before anyone else crossed her path, she rushed to the study and stopped outside the door, cold with dread, her throat tight. She had to end this now before she lost her heart and couldn’t recover. To repeat what she and Tomás had shared on the hillside would be madness given what Nuncio had implied.

  Braced for pain, she slipped inside the study and closed the door.

  Tomás looked up. He was in in his chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped either in prayer or as he troubled over something. Beatriz lowered her candle to a cabinet, their silence lengthening. The air grew thick, charged with emotion she needed to fight but couldn’t.

  He stood and crossed the room to her, she to him. Their embrace was as heated as their kiss, her fingers buried in his hair, his hand on her breast. She melted into him, knowing she was damned, her good intentions forgotten already. Until he or circumstances forced her to leave, she had to have moments like this.

  He pulled his mouth free and gulped air, his forehead against hers. “Take off your cap. Take off everything, please. I have to taste you again.”

  As she did him, though not now. She sidled away.

  He made a face. “What are you doing? Get back here.”

  “Shhh.” She inclined her head to the door.

  He pressed his mouth to her ear. “Is someone out there listening?”

  “Perhaps. On the way to your study, Rufio then Señor Nuncio came upon me.”

  “What was Rufio doing in this part of the castle? Is he now following you?”

  “He hasn’t just started. He’s done so since I began working here.”

  Tomás eased back and frowned. “You should have told me.”

  “I am now. Both of them hound my moves. I need to dust and go.”

  “No. Never. We need to kiss, enjoy each other, and read. Stay here as I tend to things.”

  “Wait.” She grabbed his sleeve. “What are you going to do?”

  “Make certain neither comes near my study.”

  “Are you going to let Rufio go? He has a mean streak and could exact revenge against you.”

  Tomás laughed quietly. “That will be the day.” He rested his hand on her neck, his thumb stroking her jaw.

  She leaned into his touch, defenseless against him. “Heed my words, please.”

  “I have no intention of dismissing Rufio. There are countless tasks to keep him away from you, this room, or anywhere near these halls.”

  “Leaving you to deal with Señor Nuncio. Do you plan to throw him off the hill?”

  “Him I’d prefer to strangle.”

  She fought a smile. “As much as I dislike him, he does mean well. He has your best interests at heart.”

  “I am not his to worry about. Dust if you want, but prepare yourself for pleasure when I return.” He left the room, closing the door quietly.

  Beatriz tried not to worry, but his absence dragged on. The candles grew short. She paced until her legs hurt and checked the hall several times to see if anyone was there. The area remained deserted and dark.

  Her stomach rolled. She worried that Rufio had waylaid Tomás, until she considered how ridiculous that would be. Rufio was a menace to her, not a man. He’d fled readily upon seeing Nuncio, exactly as a coward would. He wouldn’t dare do anything to hurt Tomás.

  Exhausted, she curled up in his chair, El Cid’s tale on her lap to keep her company.

  * * * *

  His talk with Señora Cisneros had taken far longer than Tomás had wanted. First, he had to wake her and apologize for doing so. Next, he had to make small talk about her work and everyone’s duties so he could finally circle around to Rufio. Getting him away from Beatriz without the señora guessing that Tomás was trying to protect her.

  The woman was no fool. “I told the boy many times to quit chasing the women.”

  “Perhaps he should have listened. Make certain he does from now on.”

  After much deliberation, she suggested Rufio work with the outside laborers, rather than anywhere in the castle.

  Tomás agreed.

  “For the same wage?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  With Rufio’s future settled, Tomás had searched for Nuncio and found the man in his bed, where he should have been hours ago.

  “I know you were following Beatriz tonight.” Tomás planted his hands on his hips. “Never do so again. Stay away from her. This is my last warning.”

  “Are you going
to dismiss me?”

  “I plan to throw you out the window if you refuse to heed my word.”

  “What of Rufio?” Nuncio held his bedsheet to his scrawny throat. “He was following her earlier.”

  “He no longer works in the castle. His duties will be outside with the other laborers. Would you care to join them, rather than remain in this luxury?”

  Nuncio’s room was nearly as fine as Tomás’s. The bed large, mattress and pillow soft, beautiful tapestries on the walls, Persian rugs on the floor.

  “I shall do as you wish.” Nuncio offered a pained smile. “Even if you come to harm.”

  “How gracious of you to allow me to meet my ruin. Have a pleasant evening.” Tomás was determined to do so.

  He returned to his study. Curled up in his chair, Beatriz was fast asleep, looking small and defenseless, like a little girl. Tenderness poured through him. He closed the door carefully to avoid waking her.

  She did anyway, blinking at his approach. She pushed up. “What happened?”

  “Nothing untoward.” He offered his hand. Once he’d helped her to her feet, he sat and pulled her onto his lap. “Go on, sleep.”

  “Like this?”

  He couldn’t think of a better way unless they were naked and sharing a bed. Not likely this night or any other. Earlier, he’d prayed for more time with her and was now content to have her back in his arms. “Sí.”

  He eased her head to his shoulder.

  She rested her palm on his chest. “Did all go well?”

  “From now on, Rufio will work outside with the other laborers. Nuncio too, if he bothers you again. Both are out of your life forever, never to come near this room or you.”

  She finished her yawn. “We can look forward to pleasure?”

  “Tomorrow.” He stroked her arm. “For now, I want you to rest.”

  “Only for a moment. You must wake me.”

  “I promise.”

  She snuggled into him, fitting perfectly, and fell asleep.

  Tomás drifted off.

  * * * *

  They awoke near dawn, sore from having slept in the chair. Tomás welcomed the hurt, loving how she’d kept him warm, delighted to smell her scent before anything else.

  After groaning and stretching, Beatriz gave him a chaste kiss, then straightened her cap. “I must go and get ready for the day.”

  “The evening too. Remember, you owe me pleasure.”

  She smiled. “As you do with me.”

  Nothing would keep him from her. He spent an endless day going over the castle’s receipts with the accountant, listening to problems regarding the cattle, fields, vineyards, and horses, and answering missives from the mamás who’d visited, with them pushing for a return invitation.

  Tomás wrote that he was leaving the area to see his papá in the north and had no idea when he might return. Finished at last, he awaited Beatriz’s arrival.

  Her footfalls finally sounded in the hall.

  Like the other times, she carried a lone candle. Her lips parted at the dozens he’d lit in preparation for their time together.

  He couldn’t wait to begin. “Close the door.”

  The moment she had, he came around his desk and stood before her. “You said you have a fantasy about being a conquered maiden.”

  Her blush was obvious in the light. “I do.”

  “With me as the warrior who captured you.”

  She ran her fingertips down his shirt. “Sí.”

  “Sí? Is that how you answer the man who owns you?”

  Beatriz smiled slowly and quite sensually. She inclined her head in submission. “No, master.”

  He liked this game, but suppressed his smile to play his lordly role. “Take off your cap and unpin your hair. Now.”

  She placed the linen and pins in his palm. He put them on his desk and returned to her. Beatriz’s tresses fell in soft waves to her waist, the dark locks glossy in the light, beckoning him to press his face to them.

  He controlled himself for now. With his hands behind his back, legs parted, he affected a conqueror’s stance. “Remove your clothes.”

  Bold lust burned in her eyes. She worked her laces faster than she had on the hill, dropped the items to the side, and stood naked before him. Her skin shone golden and flawless in the candlelight, nipples tight, the folds between her legs surely damp with passion.

  “On your knees. Legs parted.”

  She sank to the floor and looked up at him. Her irises reflected the flames, giving her an unearthly appearance.

  He wanted to devour her, but held himself in check and circled at a slow pace, drinking in her nudity, wanting Beatriz to feel how naked she was.

  Her face was bright red, but a wanton smile curled her lips.

  He paused behind her, yearning to kiss the dimples above her buttocks. Restraining himself, he stepped closer. She stilled, not even breathing.

  No matter how much air Tomás pulled in, the room still swayed. He had to have relief soon from his burgeoning passion or lose his mind. He stopped in front and lifted his shirt above his hose. His shaft was so erect it hurt, his sac pulled tight to his body, his need insatiable. “Tend to me.”

  She kissed his belly, enticing him with her silky lips and comforting heat. He had to tense his legs to keep upright. Making a pleased sound, she untied the laces on his hose and braies, then eased both garments down.

  His member sprang free, his flesh thick and hard.

  A low moan flowed from her. She cupped his buttocks and pressed her face to his dark curls.

  Warmth rushed through Tomás in an endless flood, prickling his skin. He lifted his face to the ceiling, teeth clenched.

  On a wanton sound, she squeezed his cheeks and rubbed her nose in his thatch. He lost what little air he’d taken, unable to make another noise. Her shameless caress stole his breath and all thought.

  She brushed her lips over his length, her touch gentle as a sigh, her tongue hot and wet. At last, she reached the head and took him inside her mouth.

  Tomás fought for control. She’d imprisoned him in the best way, short of her sheath. He pushed his fingers through her hair, crushing the silky strands in his fists.

  Encouraging his carnal hunger, she ran her tongue over the most sensitive part on his crown, then eased his sex deeper into her mouth. He shuddered at her incredible heat. She kept at her task, not stopping until she’d taken in his entire member.

  Every part of him rejoiced.

  She worked her mouth up and down the hard column, licking his full length, doing what her channel never could.

  The room spun. Sweat rolled down his face and chest.

  Beatriz stroked his buttocks and tight opening. An incredible move he liked. She suckled and licked his shaft, then let it slip past her lips.

  No, no, no. She shouldn’t have stopped. He was her master, she the conquered maiden, required to do whatever he commanded. “Continue. Now. I mean it.”

  “As you wish.” She lapped his sac.

  Unimaginable pleasure dashed through him. Delight he’d never known, rapture one should only experience past death. Rarely, had he been as alive, nearing the peak, the precipice at hand.

  She took his member back between her lips, her movement quick, licking endless, while she also caressed his sac. Her gentle fondling and persistent suckling undid him. He shattered, his seed pouring into her mouth.

  She accepted him without hesitation, swallowing every trace. Finished, she looked up.

  He sank to his knees, chest heaving with his ragged breaths. With his arms around her waist, he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Tend to me.”

  They sagged to the floor. Beatriz held him as he drifted toward sleep, her loving embrace, wondrous scent, and unparalleled heat conquering him.

  * * * *

  She spent her days dreaming about the evenings, her nights stripped bare in his study, playing their wicked games.

 
On their sixth evening together, he gave her a challenge. “I want a new fantasy. Devise one for the morrow. No work for either of us, remember? We have the whole day to ourselves.”

  “On the hillside?”

  He winked. “I intend to surprise you and expect the same in return.”

  “Surprise me how?”

  “Wait until morning and see.”

  The night passed too slowly, Beatriz eager to be in his arms again. As she dressed the next morning, Yolanda ran to her, cheeks flushed. “Hurry. You must go to the stable.”

  Of course, she must. Tomás waited there to take her to a new spot as a surprise. Perhaps to a pond on his property where they’d enjoy a meal, then each other. She stroked Yolanda’s arm. “Do you like making candles?”

  She bounced in place. “I do. Hurry.”

  Beatriz took a shorter path than she had the previous time, no longer worried about running into anyone. For the past week, no one had followed her to the study.

  She smiled at the morning sky, only a few clouds hugging the horizon. Flowers scented the air, birds called to each other, the wind tugged her locks in every direction. She hadn’t worn her cap or braided her hair today. No need. As Tomás had said, they wouldn’t toil this day.

  The stable was only a short distance but she couldn’t wait any longer. She broke into a run, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. No workers milled about, the same as the last time she and Tomás had played this game. Breathless, she dashed into the structure and considered trying each stall, coming upon him before he could do so with her.

  Liking such sport, she raced to the other end, thinking to catch him there.

  The horses neighed and whinnied.

  A door squeaked behind her. Laughing, she swung around, arms open.

  Rufio strode from the stall, shirt damp with sweat, mud and straw on his boots, his features icy.

  She cringed. “What are you doing here?”

  “Guess you thought the master would be here, instead, as he was the last time when you two rode off. Not likely.”

  What had Rufio done? “Where is he?”

  “My, how familiar you sound when you speak of the master.” Rage swept his features. “You always did think you was better than the rest of us. You had him send me here and ruined everything for me. No more. Now, you pay.”