Passionate Pursuit

by Tina Donahue

  Tears clouded her vision. She backed away.

  “No?” He stared. “Never?”

  She couldn’t answer, not wanting to hurt him any more than she had or lose control and reveal her secret.

  He frowned. “Did you hear what I said?” He looked past her. “You must not have.” A slight smile replaced his scowl. “I want us to marry.”

  She shook her head.

  His arched eyebrows registered more surprise. “How can you refuse me after what we shared? You enjoyed our moments together as much as I had. You nearly killed me with your passion.”

  “What we had could never last.”

  “Had?” He stepped back, shock on his face. “Are you saying even our desire is in the past? Where did your feelings for me go while I was gone? Wait.” He held up his hand. “I know what this is about.” His complexion darkened. “Nuncio.”

  “What?”

  “He stopped you before you came in here and threatened to do something if you accepted me.” Tomás slammed his fist into his palm. “This is the last time he interferes with you, me, or us.”

  “You told Nuncio you planned to ask for my hand?”

  “How else would he have known? He did stop you before you came in here, no?”

  “No. Yesterday was the last time I saw him.” She frowned. “You discussed me with him? Why?”

  He averted his gaze.

  She grew clammy. “Everyone has been looking at me oddly since you left. On more than one occasion, Nuncio spoke to the other servants when he never has before. Was he telling them about your plans or was he asking them about me?”

  Tomás still didn’t look at her.

  Queasiness washed over Beatriz. He’d guessed her secret from the lies she’d told the others. No wait. If he’d learned her past, why would he have offered marriage? “Are you going to answer me or not?”

  His shoulders slumped. “Nuncio knew I planned to ask for your hand and gave his word not to tell anyone.”

  “He lied to you.”

  “No. His conversations with the servants had nothing to do with our marriage.”

  He hadn’t heard a word she’d said. There wouldn’t be a wedding. Her nausea returned. “What was he speaking to them about if not us? Why would he approach the other servants but fail to include me in his conversations?”

  “I warned him not to bother you.”

  She bounced on her heels, fear overwhelming her. “You keep refusing to answer my question. What was he speaking to them about?”

  “Beatriz, please.” He reached for her.

  She pushed his hands away. “I want an answer. Was he asking them about me?”

  “Why would he? Is there a reason for him to have done so?”

  Surely, he didn’t expect her to confess. “You said his conversations had nothing to do with your decision to ask for my hand. How could you know what he said to the servants unless you told him to talk to them? About what?”

  “Must we discuss this?”

  “Answer me, or do I need to go to him?”

  Tomás swore softly.

  “Very well.” She crossed the room to the door.

  He stopped her before she could leave. “I told him to ask them about Rufio.”

  “What? Why him?”

  “You said Rufio was the kind to exact revenge, which he did in the stable. I wanted Nuncio to check with the others to see whether Rufio had tried to gain access to the castle.”

  “With guards at the walls and gate?”

  Tomás lifted his face to the ceiling and took a deep breath. “He fooled Yolanda and you. I feared he might do the same with someone else. I merely wanted to take care and asked Nuncio not to alarm you. Silly me.” He looked at her. “You seem more upset now than I would have ever believed possible, clearly because I asked for your hand. Why are you refusing my offer?”

  She couldn’t reveal the truth and hadn’t a ready lie to satisfy him without causing more hurt.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “If we have to stay here all night until you answer me, we will.”

  “Nuncio should have talked you out of this.”

  “He tried. I told him to keep his tongue or risk losing the vile thing. You keep avoiding my question. Why? Do you find me so loathsome you could never deign to wed me?”

  “How can you say or even think that? You are a man among men, a warrior with no equal, a god on earth.”

  He regarded her and smiled. “I see my manner of speaking rubbed off on you.”

  Beatriz wanted to laugh, cry, and shriek at the same time. She wilted. “You have nothing to do with my refusal.”

  “Which leaves you. I confessed my love and heard naught in return. You have no love to give or find me too lacking to ever claim your heart?”

  She had to leave.

  “Oh no.” He brought her right back to face him. “I demand an answer. What are your feelings for me?”

  Right now, she wanted to scream at him for putting her into such an impossible position and kiss him breathless for returning her love. Neither action was possible. She struggled for an answer, at last remembering the most obvious.

  “Have you forgotten my station?” She pulled away from him and gestured to her livery.

  He ignored what she wore. “I keep listening but have yet to hear the word love, hate, indifference, or any other feeling you may have in regard to me.”

  “My feelings matter not. Your nobility does.”

  “Is that the only thing troubling you? Easily remedied.”

  “You intend to give this up?” She swung out her arms, taking in the grand room.

  “No need. Once you change, everything will fall into place for us.”

  Not with that attitude. “Change? How?”

  “Your clothes, of course, and your hair, conduct, what you say, how you—”

  “How awful of me to be so lacking, and here I thought I was perfect in every way. Lovelier than the sun, brighter than the night, more enchanting than a storm.”

  “You have my comparisons mixed up. Outside of that, you are perfect. For me. If the choice were mine, you could stay hidden here forever, never seeing anyone.”

  “Hidden? Like a creature too monstrous for a noble to view lest the sight of me upsets the precious one’s delicate stomach?”

  Tomás huffed. “You keep taking my words and twisting them.”

  “Because I lack the sense to understand a noble’s brilliant mind?”

  “No. Because you keep trying to start a fight and I refuse to battle you. By change I mean no more than you wearing fine silks and velvets, having a servant do your hair in the same style as the other ladies, knowing what manner of address is required for a duke, marquis, count, or any other noble, and to watch what you say so no one can stab you in the back later with your own words. Ones spoken at gatherings you and I will attend with me showing you off proudly as my esposa. I know, I know, what a beast I am to ask such things of you.”

  He was too wonderful, proving how awful she was for duping him. “What you want would never work.”

  “Why not?” He eased close. “I see how you look at and touch me. No woman has ever wanted me as badly as you seem to, yet you refuse to speak of love or even mild affection. Is the problem your mamá? Does she hate nobles? Did one do something unspeakable to her?”

  Several had with her father’s full consent and willingness. “She could never hate you.”

  He hugged her. “We could bring her here and give her a life of leisure. A physician I know could care for her if she falls ill again. Let me make everything better for you and her, giving both of you whatever you want. Say yes.”

  If only the answer were possible. The moment he posted banns, what she was hiding would come out and their world would crash down. If she confessed now, she’d put the burden on him as to whether he should act on her confession, as honor demanded, or help keep her secret. In either event, they could nev
er have a life together, certainly not one in the open.

  She never should have let things get this far, hungering for their first kiss, caress, coupling. Now, even friendship would have to be in the past.

  Beatriz pulled away. He eased her back into his arms.

  “No.” She twisted away again and put distance between them. “I want nothing of your wealth or position. Neither means anything to me.”

  “What about me? Do I matter at all?”

  She’d gladly die for him and would do all she could not to ruin his life. “I can never wed you or any man.”

  Tomás stared, then laughed.

  She frowned.

  “Why are you unable to wed any man? Were you planning on the nunnery after your service here?” He sobered. “After our adventure in the harem, joining the order may be a mistake for you.”

  “What we did was wrong.”

  “How?” He advanced, crowding her.

  She stepped back and ran into his desk, which cut off further escape.

  He looked pleased. “You have yet to answer me. Are you saying we were wrong to enjoy each other as God and nature intended a man and woman to do?”

  “Only after they wed.”

  “Ah, but I asked and you refused. Not only me but every other man on earth with your decision certainly including another servant. Tell me, what could keep you from wedding a man of your station?”

  “I want no one to rule me.”

  “As though I have. Have you forgotten my offer to help you carry linens and dust this room so we could read and play our games instead? What a swine I am.”

  Her mouth trembled with laughter and sorrow.

  At her first tear, his shoulders slumped. “Now, I made you weep? Are you deliberately trying to kill me?”

  She covered her face.

  He touched her wrist, his sigh sounding as sad as hers. “I thought we were the best sort of lovers and friends.”

  “We can be neither any longer.”

  “What?” He stopped touching her. “Are you saying we have no more nights in here or days on the hillside and harem?”

  “To what end?”

  “Marriage and a family. What else?”

  She growled in frustration. “What you want can never be. How many times must I tell you?”

  His mood changed, growing hurt, then cold. “This last one will be sufficient. I will never ask again.”

  Tears streamed down her face, his sadness and anger killing her. “Are you going to throw me out of your castle now?”

  “Do you want that too?”

  “Not without a new position in hand. I have nowhere to go.”

  “What do you mean? What of your village and mamá? Has she already forced you from her home? Is that why you never visit her?”

  “Do I stay here or not? Does my position depend upon me lying with you?”

  Tomás stepped back, offense on his face. “I have never forced myself on any woman. Stay if you want. Ending your service is up to you.”

  She nodded. “Gracias.”

  “You thank me now? I never should have returned from my business. Leave this room.”

  Suddenly, she couldn’t move.

  He pointed at the door. “Go!”

  She bolted from his study and passed Nuncio in the entrance hall. He skittered back. She stopped and rushed to him. “Please tell Señora Cisneros to find another servant to see to Patrón’s study, beginning immediately. I appreciate what you did about Rufio. Gracias.”

  Unable to speak further, she took off for a place where she could cry alone and pull herself together before having to go to the servant quarters.

  * * * *

  The door opened.

  Tomás whirled around, hoping to see Beatriz, even though he’d just thrown her out. Already he missed her, wanted her to run into his arms, tell him she’d changed her mind. She did want him in every way.

  Nuncio came in.

  Tomás sank to a bench, forearms resting on his thighs. “What do you want? Wait. Did I hear you knock?”

  “Forgive me for being unacceptably rude. Is everything all right?”

  “Do I look happy?”

  He stood at Tomás’s side. “She refused your offer?”

  Tomás clenched his jaw.

  “How could she?” Nuncio made a face. “I thought…she seemed…most women in her position would…”

  “Beatriz is hardly most women. I already told you as much.”

  “Did she give you a reason for turning you down?”

  None Tomás could accept. He’d been certain she loved him as much as he did her. Why else would she behave as she had during their times together. If her intent had been to charm him into marriage, she’d accomplished her goal readily. Then turned around and spurned him.

  Her behavior didn’t make sense. None of this did.

  “She simply said no when you offered your hand?” Nuncio’s eyes widened “And then she left?”

  “No. We argued. She wants nothing of my wealth or position. They mean nothing to her.”

  Nuncio sucked in a breath. “She is extraordinary.”

  Tomás glared at him. “Now you find her acceptable because she refused me?”

  “I thought she was after what you have, the same as all servants and the señoritas who came here. I readily admit how wrong I was. Rather than allowing avarice to guide her, she understands the folly of becoming a part of your world and came to the right decision.”

  Tomás made a face. “Right decision? Because she can never be as magnificent as the nobles I know who fail to pay their debts, eat and drink too much, ruin each other’s reputations because of perceived slights, gossip about which husbands are cheating on which wives, and fail to provide for their bastard children? Are those the nobles you have in mind?”

  “They were born to privilege. She was not. Nothing can change the matter. However, she did earn my esteem tonight.” He squeezed Tomás’s shoulder. “Beatriz spared you endless humiliation with the people you know over who knows how many years. Be grateful.”

  He knocked Nuncio’s hand away. “Only when I get what I want.”

  “You mean her?” He made a pained sound. “How do you intend to court Beatriz in light of her refusal? She wants nothing to do with you.”

  Tomás stood and advanced on the man. Nuncio danced back.

  “How would you know how she feels about me? Were you listening at the door?”

  “No. Before I came in here, she asked me to speak to Señora Cisneros immediately about getting another servant to clean your study.”

  Tomás gripped his desk to keep from swaying. A blow couldn’t have hit him harder than this news. At the very least, he’d expected to see Beatriz in here each night. He’d hoped to coax her into reading El Cid’s tale again and ask her to begin the epic poem they both forgot about, charming and wooing her to his side once more.

  That dream was over now, leaving him with nothing. Unless he wanted to haunt her every move in the hope she’d throw a glance his way or deign to kiss him.

  “She also thanked me for what I did about Rufio.” Nuncio shook his head. “I have no idea what she meant. Will you tell me?”

  He ran his hand down his face. “She noticed you speaking with the other servants and asked if I was checking into her. I told her I wanted you to find out if Rufio had tried to sneak back onto the grounds for revenge. If she questions you about what I said, tell her the same lie, understand?”

  “Of course.”

  “Leave me.”

  “Will you be all right?”

  He had to make things so. Tomás had survived horrifying battles and a near-fatal illness. He wasn’t about to let tonight destroy or defeat him.

  * * * *

  Señora Cisneros tasked Garbine with dusting Tomás’s study. As one of the oldest servants, Garbine was rather frail but quite sweet, making her easy to approach. Beatriz took her meals next to
the woman, hoping she might share some news of Tomás.

  Garbine never mentioned him. Not even a brief anecdote of seeing Tomás in the study or him entering the room while she worked. He might as well have been a fantasy Beatriz had concocted to make her time here less dreary.

  Days turned into weeks without her seeing or hearing anything about where he was, what he did, who he shared his time with. After their fight, she’d feared he’d see reason and invite the señoritas back, choosing one for his bride.

  No visitors came.

  She worked herself to exhaustion, hoping for some peace at night, but lay awake, missing him so badly she began to want their time together more than freedom. What did liberty matter when she was as miserable now as when she’d escaped everything she hated?

  On those few days she had time to herself, she walked to the hillside to see if the area had changed. If anything, the view was more exquisite than she recalled, enticing couples to fall in love all over again.

  She slipped away to the harem once and returned to the chamber where Tomás had taken her virginity. Pillows and silk panels lay where they’d left them. The pool water had evaporated somewhat. A few leaves floated on the surface.

  She found an orange peel they’d failed to put into the basket. Beatriz pressed the rind to her nose, wanting the fragrance to return her to their day here, giving her a chance to hear his laughter and teasing again, water splashing from their play.

  The day remained quiet, even the birds and breeze forsaking the spot.

  Beatriz slipped the peel into her sleeve, a memento more precious to her than jewels or silks. She didn’t return to the harem again. Recalling times past merely made each day harder for her.

  She tried to forget him but couldn’t. Every time footfalls sounded, she held her breath, hoping they might be his. His scent seemed to be in every chamber. More than once, she stopped near the hallway leading to his study and listened for his rumbling voice.

  Silence answered.

  Her time here had to end. She couldn’t abide the unending heartache. Prior to her next day off, she stopped Yolanda outside the kitchen before they went in for their meal. “Can we have a word?”

  “Always. Has Leonor started knocking into you again?”