by Tina Donahue
She’d spread her lovely cheeks quite nicely, revealing her tight, pink ring and cleft, her sex wet with arousal. He hardened himself against impossible need. “Are you talking again?”
“Forgive me. No sound will pass my lips from this point forward.”
Silly girl. His satisfaction wouldn’t come until she shrieked in delight and screamed for more.
He mounted her, swift and deep, until they touched. Her flesh hugged his. He grunted to show his approval. She moaned throatily.
Not enough. He demanded everything she had to give. “Tighten your opening around my shaft.”
She squeezed his sex repeatedly, her rapid pace keeping time with his heart’s frenzied beat, driving him wild. “No, no, no, slow down.”
“Like this?” She squeezed for a long moment, rested briefly, and resumed.
She was going to kill him with nothing more than her channel. Sweat stung his eyes. If he clenched his teeth any harder, they might break. His chest and shoulders hurt from trying to restrain himself. “Slower.”
She tightened her muscles around him again. He waited for her to relax. She didn’t.
“Slow enough?” she asked.
He pounded into her, crazed with lust. She was equally lost to pleasure, pushing into him on each thrust, forcing him to tunnel deeper. Once he had, she shouted in delight. Never had he known a more unrestrained woman.
Tomás pumped, staving off release far longer than what should have been possible, and stroked her nub again. Jubilant cries rushed from her.
He finally threw back his head and howled with naked indulgence.
The sounds echoed through the chamber.
Wobbly, he sank to the side, bringing Beatriz with him, his arm around her waist, his sex still filling her.
They struggled for breath. He cuddled closer, loving how she nestled into him. With his carnal needs sated, he wanted only good thoughts lulling him to sleep.
What she’d revealed about her parents intruded instead.
He didn’t understand her reluctance to share any information about a mother she adored. Unmistakable love had sounded in her voice. Tenderness softened her features.
Distaste for her father had been equally evident.
If the man thought so poorly of her, why teach Beatriz anything, especially how to read and write. Those were far harder skills for her to learn than following a recipe. Yet, he’d gone to the trouble to educate her, almost as a lady. Seeing to her future like a father would do with a boy, then dismissing her from having anything to do with his business.
Either her father had been a most unusual man or she was lying. Tomás couldn’t imagine why but wanted to find out. He had to.
She was in his blood now. He required her as much as he needed food and drink, and had to make his plans.
* * * *
Shortly after he and Beatriz had returned to the castle, Yolanda came to his study unbidden. The child seemed far less confident than she’d been this morning, now shifting from foot to foot.
Little wonder. Servants never came to his study to speak to him. They went through Señora Cisneros.
When the girl didn’t say anything, he had to. “What is it?”
“Am I in trouble? Will I no longer work with the chandler? Are you going to dismiss me?”
“Did you start a fire with the wax or tallow?”
She gaped. “I would never do such a thing. Are you angry with me for believing Rufio? I saw Beatriz’s sleeve. She said one of the horses nipped her and when she tried to get away, the fabric tore. My wages should pay for the damage. If not, I can work extra until I can afford to buy her a new gown.”
Tomás warned himself not to smile. He certainly didn’t want Yolanda thinking he’d made light of her. She had a good heart. In many ways, she reminded him of how Beatriz must have been as a child. Loving yet spirited with an admirable sense of fair play. No wonder they’d befriended each other…and had probably shared their pasts.
He leaned back in his chair. “No need to worry about the gown. Since my horse ruined her garment, I should handle the repair. Your position is also safe. However, I do want to speak with you. Close the door and sit.” He gestured to a bench next to his desk.
She perched on the edge, hands clasped, her face grim as an undertaker’s.
He rubbed his mouth so he wouldn’t chuckle at how solemn she looked. “Before I begin, I need your word not to repeat to anyone anything said in here, especially Beatriz.”
“I would never.”
He believed her. “Has Beatriz told you much about her past? What village she came from? Her family? She seems alone to me and I worry for her.”
“She only spoke to me about an ailing mother who was better for a time, then grew ill once more. Or was she hardy and grew ill only to become hardy again?” Yolanda became thoughtful, then frowned.
He hoped the rest of what she knew would be more fruitful. “Did she say which village she came from?”
“The one to the east, I think. Or maybe the south.”
“Too far to walk from here?”
“Not for me or any other servant.” She grew pensive again and shrugged. “Maybe Señor Nuncio.”
Because he was old when Beatriz was young and quite fit. She’d tested Tomás’s stamina repeatedly today. If walking to those villages proved no problem for Yolanda, Beatriz should have found the journey equally easy, not difficult as she’d told him. Of course, Yolanda could have been mistaken in what Beatriz had told her.
“What about the communities beyond the nearest ones?” he asked. “How far are they?”
“Only been to them once. Took me several hours at most even with stopping to rest.”
Time enough for Beatriz to arrive by late morning, visit her mamá, and walk back here well before the end of the day. “And those even farther?”
“Never been there.”
Beatriz might have grown up in one. “Please find Señor Nuncio and ask him to come in here.”
“At once.” She raced from the study.
Nuncio must have been prowling nearby as he came in quickly. “Do you need the guards again?”
“No. Close the door and take a seat.”
He remained far away. “I have not been anywhere near Beatriz.”
Tomás looked past him to the open door. “And you want to make certain the rest of the servants know as much?”
Nuncio closed the door. “Whatever Beatriz told you, she has the wrong idea. I have no idea where she is or what she might be doing.”
“Good. Keep it up. How familiar are you with the villages on my estate?”
“Not at all.”
Of course not. If he were, that would make this quest too easy. The same as Tomás asking Beatriz straight out where she’d come from, why she was reluctant to speak of it, and what she might be hiding. Deep down, he sensed his questions would push her away. Better to find out on his own. “Learn as much as you can about them, near and far. I want to know where every servant hails from and if there are bakers selling their wares in any of those places.”
He suspected Beatriz’s mother had sold her husband’s shop upon his death. If she had, though, Beatriz wouldn’t have needed to work here to support her. Could be the new owner had cheated them. Maybe that’s why she’d worried about a place to sleep and enough to eat, making her unhappy until she met him.
Nuncio looked pained. “You want me to question each servant?”
“Start with Señora Cisneros. Surely, she knows the most about the people she hired. With those she fails to account for, strike up a conversation with them to get the information.”
“A conversation?”
Tomás smiled. “You know, speaking with another person as though you actually care what they say in return.”
Nuncio lifted his chin. “May I ask why you need me to do this?”
“Do I have your word not to repeat what I say?”
“Of
course.” He looked appalled Tomás had even brought up the subject. “I never repeat anything you tell me.”
“Good. Beatriz’s background concerns me.”
“I knew it.” He finally joined Tomás at his desk and sat on the same bench Yolanda had. “At last, you realize what I have all along. The woman is trouble. Why go through this instead of simply getting rid of her?”
Tomás frowned. “Impossible.”
“Why? Has she threatened you?”
“Worse. She bewitched me. I love her.”
* * * *
During the following days, everyone looked at Beatriz hostilely or suspiciously, especially Nuncio. She might as well have worn a sign proclaiming what had happened between her and Rufio in the stable, followed by what she and Tomás had shared in the harem. The few times she and Nuncio crossed paths, he stared, and glared a little too, but said nothing, always hurrying away.
Leonor didn’t try to mask her hatred. Beatriz figured the girl blamed her for Rufio’s sudden departure from the estate. Every time she and Leonor were in the servant quarters, Leonor made certain to pass too close and rammed her shoulder into hers.
After the last time, Yolanda had bounced on her heels. “You best take care with her. A knife in her hand can be deadly to animal and man.”
Beatriz kept even more to herself than usual, not telling Tomás what had occurred. When he questioned the bruises Leonor had left on her shoulder, Beatriz had to lie, as usual.
“I was carrying linens, turned a corner too quickly, and ran into the wall.”
He kissed the purplish spots. “You need to be more careful.”
She struggled not to laugh. As he’d given his warning, he was undressing her in his study when she should have been dusting, not engaging in carnal acts with him. “Careful is keeping my clothes on in here and staying far away from you.”
He cupped her naked breasts. “Is that what you want?” He suckled her nipples.
She trembled, wanting more.
They spent a good part of each evening with him mounting her from the front, the back, and any other way he could devise. When he finished, they were as sore as untried virgins.
He didn’t complain, nor did she.
Given their lust, Beatriz feared she had surely conceived and waited for the signs other women had discussed. Illness in the morning, dizziness, weeping uncontrollably for no reason, or for the very best…carrying a child while unwed.
She experienced no symptoms.
To her surprise and relief, her flow came as usual, giving her and Tomás another chance to guard against doom. A matter she was determined to discuss with him as soon as he returned from business involving his land.
They’d been lovers for too short a time, but she had no choice. They had to return to being no more than friends.
* * * *
Unlike his brother, Enrique, Tomás didn’t care to run a large estate. He found the complexities of crops and cattle exceedingly tedious. Give him the opportunity to plan a battle any day. Now there was an activity to engage a man’s mind.
Not only did this work bore him, the endless discussions kept him from Beatriz.
He’d been away for a week before he finally finished his business and returned to the castle.
Nuncio greeted him in the grand entrance hall, cheeks pink, hair disheveled. Certainly not by a dalliance with a maid.
“How eager you were for my return.” Tomás removed his robe. “Going so far as to watch for my arrival from the parapet. Never deny it. The wind mussed your hair. Wait.” He leaned in. “Perhaps a servant girl played with your locks.”
Nuncio smoothed the strands. “The wind did, and yes, I was on the parapet searching for you. I live for your presence. Would you care to know what I learned in your absence?”
“Not here.” They were too many servants around who pretended indifference but listened to everything. “My study.”
Once inside, Tomás tossed his robe and doublet on a chair, then braced himself. Good or bad, he had to know what Nuncio had discovered. “Tell me.”
“Only one village has a baker who sells his wares. He and Beatriz have different surnames.”
Tomás shrugged. “Her family might have sold their concern to someone else.”
“The baker is older than I am and has never done anything else.”
“Was this village close to here?”
“The farthest away.”
And not easy for her to walk to. Tomás didn’t allow the news to rattle him. “Her family must have closed the business they had.”
“The current baker is the only one who ever served that area.”
So what. Perhaps Beatriz had grown up in the nearest village and found walking between there and here far too taxing. “What of the other communities? Surely, they had someone selling baked goods.”
“No one has a business in any of them. Everyone tends to their own families or barters.”
“Aha.” He pointed at Nuncio. “What we consider barter they might consider a business.”
“If you wish to believe so.”
He didn’t much like the man’s attitude. “What of the other information I asked you to get?”
“I made a list of the servants and where they came from.” He gestured to the desk. “I left the paper in your top drawer, not wanting Beatriz to come across it in my bedchamber when she cleaned there.”
Good thinking. Tomás read the list. Everyone who worked here had come from similar locations, meaning some of them had to know Beatriz if she hailed from the same village they had. “Did Señora Cisneros say which of these places Beatriz came from?”
“The one in the north or the west.”
Yolanda had said the east or south.
“I did have a conversation with some of the servants.” Nuncio rocked on his heels. “I mentioned several names to them, including Beatriz’s, asking if they had grown up together. All said they shared childhoods with one or another on the list. None of them had ever known Beatriz before she came here.”
“So?” Tomás tore up the list and threw the pieces into the hearth. “The information means nothing.”
“If you wish to believe so.”
“I believe she came from a village, her papá was a baker who liked to read, taught her the skill, and she deserves more than your suspicion. You had better watch your step around her.”
“Why? Are you intending to make her your manservant because you love her?”
“No. I intend to wed her.”
Nuncio gaped. “No. Impossible.”
“I informed you of my plans. I hardly asked for your permission.”
“Beatriz is a servant. A lying one at that.” He put up his hand before Tomás could get any closer. “Strike me if you must, throw me out the window, and then dismiss me, but she came here on a pretense.”
“You think I care?”
“I can see your feelings have clouded your judgment. Even if you could make this marriage happen, how would she fare with the people you know?”
“Beatriz is brighter than all of them. In no time she can learn the conduct she needs to fit into my world. You can teach her how to be suspicious and stab people in the back. Quite useful at court.”
Nuncio narrowed his eyes. “This is not a game.”
“How right you are. This is my life and I refuse to spend my days without her.”
“Who said you must? Especially if you continue with your reckless desire for her. When she conceives, you can hide the fact by marrying her off to one of the other servants. When you wed a noblewoman, you can keep Beatriz as your mistress. Done all the time.”
Tomás clenched his teeth. “Not with me. Not to her. Suggest such a thing again and—”
“I know. You dismiss me or I die at your hands. I give up.”
“Good. Keep everyone away from my study. I intend to speak to Beatriz without interruption.”
Shaking his hea
d, Nuncio left the room.
Tomás paced, wanting to see her so badly he didn’t care about her past in the least. There had to be a reasonable explanation as to what she’d told the others. No matter what it might be, her history wasn’t their business, anyway. She might be ashamed of where she’d come from, how she’d lived, and told a more acceptable tale in order to hold her head high. Who could blame her?
His wait seemed endless, but at last the hour for her dusting had arrived. Her footfalls sounded in the hall.
The moment she was inside and had closed the door, he crossed the room, pulling her into his arms. “I missed you so much I thought of little else.”
He kissed her deeply, tenderly, then passionately, unable to decide what he needed most. He swung her around, set her on her feet, and trailed kisses over her temple, cheeks, forehead, and the tip of her nose. “Did you miss me?”
Tears shone in her eyes.
“You did.” He hugged her as hard as he could without harming her. “We need to talk. I have something to say.”
“I do too.”
He stilled at her forlorn tone and eased back. “Are you with child?”
She shook her head quickly, her cap slipping to the side.
He righted the thing for her. “Are you ill?”
“No.”
“Your mamá is ailing again?”
“No. If you let me speak, I can tell you.”
“I have to go first. Please.” He held her hands. “I love you. I have from the moment we met. These last days have been unbearable without you. I want you near to me always, as my wife.”
She stared harder than Nuncio had. “What?”
Tomás grinned at how he’d surprised her this time, even better than their day in the harem. “Wed me.”
The color drained from her face. She pulled away. “No. Never.”
Chapter 8
Tomás’s smile faded slowly replaced by surprise, then confusion.
The way any sane man would have reacted. She’d behaved wantonly with him, repeatedly proving her desire. Yet when he’d offered her a privileged life at his side, she’d refused.
He loved her.
Joy bubbled up in Beatriz, followed by anguish. She’d never hoped for his heart and had to stop this now without telling him why or offering comfort. Tenderness would only confuse him more.