by Megan Mulry
“I know!” Anna was getting angry. “I’m sorry!”
Pia smiled. “You are such a child sometimes. You can’t bear to admit when you are wrong. Simply say it.”
Into the yawning silence, Anna finally mumbled, “I was wrong.”
Sebastian was no longer able to repress his smile.
Anna shot him a quelling look.
“I didn’t say anything!” Sebastian said, but he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face.
“I was wrong,” Anna said clearly, looking straight into Pia’s eyes. “I beg your forgiveness.”
“There,” Pia said, smoothing her dress. “Was that so difficult?”
Anna laughed. “Yes! I hate it and you know it! Don’t you remember how I despised confession? As if everything I ever wanted was wrong, every inclination, every desire? Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.”
“I remember,” Pia said gently. “But I am not your confessor, Anna. I am your closest friend. I love you.”
“You’re going to make me cry again,” Anna said with a peevish tone, as if crying were an inconvenience.
Sebastian watched the two women, watched as the forgiveness settled between them.
“Come here.” Pia gestured to Anna, patting her lap. “I want you in my arms when he makes you come again.”
Anna smiled and switched seats. Pia spread her legs apart to create a space for Anna to settle her back against Pia’s front, both of them fully clothed and looking at Sebastian expectantly.
“Make her cry out for me, Sebastian,” Pia said softly, obviously unaccustomed to telling another person what to do. Her hands were roaming over Anna’s bodice while she spoke, and Sebastian felt the heat slam into him again. All thoughts of forgiveness and apologies evaporated in the haze of sensual promise.
He leaned forward slowly, lifting Anna’s emerald silk skirts and petticoats. He kissed his way up her pale thigh as Pia’s hands continued to trail lightly across the swell of Anna’s small breasts and the bare skin of her chest.
Anna reached one hand behind her and wrapped her fingers around Pia’s neck, letting her fingers grip the hair at the base. When Sebastian’s lips touched her pussy, she bucked. Pia pressed down with one strong hand on Anna’s hips. “Let me watch him,” Pia whispered hoarsely.
Groaning into the restraint of Pia’s hold, Anna’s other hand reached for Sebastian’s dark curls. When her orgasm finally tore through her, Anna’s hands clenched with fierce possession, tangling into both of their scalps. Pia and Sebastian locked eyes as Anna cried out. The connection between them was powerful and immediate; their shared love of Anna was something that would bind them together for the rest of their lives. Pia kissed the side of Anna’s neck as the final waves of her release pulsed through her, never taking her eyes from Sebastian’s. We will both love her, that look seemed to say. And the thought swamped Sebastian with an entirely different—more profound—satisfaction.
When he pulled away from Anna’s sex at last, his lips and chin still moist, he lifted onto his knees and leaned up to kiss the sweetness into Pia’s mouth. She closed her eyes and took it, and he could tell she was loving the taste of Anna between them, loving the admixture of all three of them.
Then Pia withdrew from Sebastian and tilted Anna’s face to bring her lips to hers.
“All three of us in one kiss,” Anna whispered in profound wonder. She adjusted her position so they were able to settle into each other’s arms, then each of them slipped into a gentle slumber as the carriage rocked along the north road toward Bilbao, where they would board the packet to London.
The trip to Bilbao lasted many hours. Pia awoke first. She untucked herself from Anna’s loose hold, where she’d fallen asleep against her chest. She moved to the other seat to avoid waking either Sebastian or Anna. Amid the usual bounce and rumble of the carriage, her change in position did not cause Anna to stir. Sebastian, on the other hand, was awake in a flash, his hand reaching for his sword beneath the seat. When his eyes cleared enough to remember where and with whom he was, he smiled gently and slid out of Anna’s hold to join Pia on the forward-facing seat.
Pia pulled aside one of the curtains to look out across the passing landscape. She gazed at a range of mountains to the west, purple and majestic in the fading light of dusk, then let the curtain fall back into place.
“So beautiful.” She turned to Sebastian. “Do you know this part of the country?”
“I do, actually. Those are the Montes Obarenes. Even though I grew up in Madrid, Javi and I went to university in Pamplona.”
“And you and your friends spent much time in the countryside in this region?”
He looked skeptical. “We did.”
She nodded; it was more than enough information to draw the conclusion she’d been forming.
“What do you know of the countryside?” Sebastian pressed.
She smiled. “You can put your tongue on my breast, your lips on my mouth, but you think it ill-advised to give details of a political nature to a mere miss. I understand.”
They were both whispering so as not to wake Anna, but if Sebastian’s surprised look had been given voice, it would have been heard from a mountaintop. “What do you understand?”
She shrugged and continued whispering. “I understand that, at the convent, we used to leave food and other basic provisions at the edge of the garden for . . . people . . .”
“And?”
“And . . . I have heard Javi’s name mentioned,” Pia continued slowly. “I don’t know if it is the same Javi, but . . .” She shrugged again. “I am nearly invisible to many people. I am a parentless charity case of no consequence. People tend to speak freely in my presence. As if I were a deaf-mute.”
He reached for her hand. It wasn’t a seductive touch necessarily, but it was warm and made Pia trust him. “And you’ve remembered every word, I suspect?” He rubbed her knuckles in a lovely back-and-forth way.
“It’s exhausting keeping it all in.” She leaned her head back against the velvet squabs and closed her eyes as she spoke. “But the abbess and the older nuns, they are powerful. They are landowners or mothers of landowners. Sisters and widows of powerful men. They are aristocrats. They are mothers of kings. Grandmothers of queens. Daughters of dukes, like Isabella.”
Sebastian brought Pia’s hand to his lips and kissed her lightly.
“What was that for?” she asked, opening her eyes and turning to look at him.
“I don’t know.” He smiled at her. “Anna’s been so excited—distraught really—about what would happen when we came to get you.” He looked down at their joined hands. “I’m relieved, I suppose.”
Pia pulled his knuckles to her lips this time. “I am also relieved.” She set their hands in her lap gently. “I thought . . . terrible things about you.”
“Like what?”
“I thought you would be cruel and domineering.”
He stifled a laugh.
“I know. Silly, yes?” Pia blushed.
“Yes,” he replied, then his voice turned more somber. “But perhaps it is to be expected if that is what you have heard of men and their treatment of women.”
She nodded, glancing across the luxurious carriage at Anna’s delicate features pressed against the velvet squabs. “Isabella used to talk to us about how we should try to fight harder for our independence, and we would all look at her as if she were crazy.” She turned back to face him, continuing to speak in a low voice, just loud enough to be heard over the rhythmic clatter of the horses. “She may as well have suggested we go work in the garden without breathing any air. Anna especially would challenge her.”
“I got to know Isabella fairly well when we were traveling to Aveiro.”
“Really?”
“Yes. She can be single-minded.”
“Well, she can afford to be single-minded, can she not? What with her fortune.”
“Yes and no. There are plenty of women with fortunes who still defer to the wishes of others for their whole liv
es. I do not think you or Isabella or Anna are cut from the same cloth as most women today.”
“That may be true.” She was silent for a few moments. The roll and sway of the carriage lulled her, made her want to be more candid with him. “Although, I do not think I am cut from the same cloth as either of them. Both are fierce in their ways.”
“Perhaps. But I think you, too, are fierce in your way. Mindful in a way that Anna is not. Powerful.”
She nearly choked out a disbelieving laugh. “Powerful? What a strange word to use to describe me. The clothes on my back and a small canvas sack constitute the entire expanse of my dominion.”
Sebastian smiled, and Pia had the strangest feeling. Again, it wasn’t lust, though there was that still unfamiliar frisson of physical attraction in it, but something deeper and more far-reaching. He felt like an ally.
He tapped the side of her head. “Your power is here. You remind me of Javi in some ways. You collect information. I can see it in your eyes.” He stroked a finger across her forehead. “Your wealth is here. I am interested to see how you will use it.”
“Use it? How can I? I am nothing.”
He squeezed her hand. “Ah. That is where you are wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are about to be surrounded by the most elite members of London society. Men will approach you and want to dance with you at balls. You will be pursued. I have a wealthy friend who is going to introduce us into his circle. These are important times in the corridors of power. The New World is still so new. Lives are being made and lost all the time.”
Pia felt a combination of fear and delight. “I thought I was to be a lady’s maid. Do lady’s maids attend balls and dance with gentlemen in London?”
“You were never going to be a lady’s maid,” Anna said. Pia startled at the sound of her voice. “Tell her, Sebastian,” Anna ordered with a sly smile, stretching her arms until she touched the gray fabric of the carriage roof then letting her hands rest in her lap. “Go on. It is such a delightful plan.”
Pia smiled at Anna, then turned her full attention to Sebastian. He was quite enjoyable to gaze upon, after all. Having spent her whole life in the company of women, many of whom had been manipulated by male members of their families, Pia had expected all men to be harsh and brutal, like the traveling priests who said mass at the convent on occasion. Brutal or, at best, dismissive.
While there was something vicious about the turn of Sebastian’s jaw when he clenched it, a deeper compassion and love flowed from him in a seemingly endless supply. He had a generous soul.
“Yes,” Pia whispered. “Tell me.”
His eyes lit as he began. “We shall enter London society as the aristocratic houseguests of the Most Noble Farleigh Edward, Duke of Mandeville.”
“Oh my. He sounds dreadfully fancy. Is he a friend of your father’s?”
“No”—Sebastian beamed—“he is only a few years older than I am. Thirty-two, I believe. We met the year before last, when he was part of a British delegation in Madrid. He took an interest in the . . . efforts upon which Javi and I had embarked.”
Pia looked from Sebastian to Anna and back again. “Well, am I to be included in these exciting affairs of state?”
Anna laughed and reached for Sebastian’s hand across the area of the carriage that separated them. “I told you she would be thrilled. Won’t she be the most delightful spy?”
Sebastian smiled but shook his head as he released Anna’s hand. “I told you, darling. There’s to be no spying.”
“Oh, you know what I mean. Intrigue! Excitement! Allow us a bit of enthusiasm, Seb. Think of where we’ve been for the past few decades. Compared to the convent, walking through Hyde Park will feel downright sinful. Don’t you think, Pia?”
“Oh, I do. I am so—” All of a sudden she began weeping again.
Anna knelt in front of her instantly. Sebastian leaned over and put an arm around her shoulders.
“What is it, my sweet?” Anna pleaded, reaching her palm to Pia’s cheek to console her. “What has saddened you?”
She lifted her eyes to look at Anna. “I am not sad. I believe I am overset with joy.” She started laughing through her tears, and Anna reached up and kissed her gently on the lips.
“I know,” Anna soothed. “I cried myself to sleep for many nights while we remained in Badajoz. I couldn’t quite reconcile myself to the truth of our freedom.” She looked at Sebastian, then back at Pia. “But we are free, darling. We truly are.”
Pia inhaled deeply. “There. I feel better again.” She patted her tears away with a small handkerchief. “I suppose I must prepare myself for these crushing tides of happiness. Who would have ever suspected I would need to become accustomed to such a thing as joy?”
Sebastian brought his lips to Pia’s cheek for a brief kiss. “I believe you shall become very accustomed to it, my dear.”
Anna sat back in her seat and smoothed the silk of her skirt as the carriage rumbled along the dark night road. “So, tell her the rest, Sebastian. I love hearing you talk about all these important personages.”
“Yes, do tell me,” Pia added, reaching tentatively for Sebastian’s hand again.
He smiled and squeezed her hand in his. “Very well then,” Sebastian continued. “Once we are settled in London, we will make the acquaintance of one Lieutenant General Arthur Wellesley—”
“A fast-rising member of the British military,” Anna hastened to add.
“Yes, he is that,” Sebastian agreed. “And then we merely need to deliver a message from Javier to Wellesley. Quite simple really.”
“Oh, you’re far too modest, Seb,” Anna scolded. “It’s very important, Pia, in order to root out that interfering Frenchman who thinks he can ride roughshod over all of Europe.”
“Well, I suppose that is true.” Sebastian looked thoughtful as he gazed out at the passing terrain. Pia liked the way his thumb slid across her knuckles as he collected his thoughts. “Spain is ours, after all. If we are able to convince Wellesley to redirect his troops to the peninsula, he may very well be able to help those of us who are, shall we say, unhappy about Napoleon’s recent arrival.”
“Do tell the rest!” Anna looked as though she could barely contain her enthusiasm for her new political purpose.
Sebastian turned to Pia and spoke openly and directly. In a way she’d never dared hope any man would speak to her: honestly. “If we can convince Wellesley to postpone his military adventures in South America and return to Portugal instead, we are certain he can cut Napoleon off before his influence is too widespread. Ever since Bonaparte’s arrival in Spain, Javi and the rest of us—the younger generation as it were—have been eager to find a way to ally ourselves with the British. With the vacillating allegiances of everyone from the Portuguese to the Italians, the Russians, and the Danes, it is imperative that we secure the loyalty of the English at the earliest possible moment.”
Pia nodded her understanding. “I agree with my whole heart. Please let me know how I can help.”
Sebastian reached for her cheek. “Anna knew you would want to.”
Again, Pia sensed in Sebastian a deep connection, like a comrade-in-arms, but the way he touched her so tenderly, the way he spoke to her with respect and kindness, also made her uneasy.
“What is it?” he asked, clearly sensing her hesitation.
“I simply never thought I would meet a man who treated me as his equal. It’s so . . . unanticipated.”
Anna clapped her hands together in delight. “Precisely! I didn’t believe him for a minute, poor thing. He had to explain himself again and again when he proposed. I was that convinced he meant to bully and intimidate me.”
Sebastian blushed, and in that moment, Pia thought he was the most loving man on earth.
The three of them spent the final hours of their journey going over the specifics of Pia’s new identity, that of an eligible, well-dowered young Spanish woman entering London society under the auspice
s of Farleigh’s powerful mother, the widowed Duchess of Mandeville. Throughout their animated discussions, Pia saw how Anna watched Sebastian. She seemed to love him without realizing it. Anna smiled when she looked at how Sebastian held Pia’s hand or spoke in that soothing way of his.
Through some miracle, after the long carriage ride and the nights on the road, followed by the rough sea voyage from Bilbao to London, there didn’t seem to be a hint of jealousy between the three of them but rather an abiding trust, a growing interdependence. They all warmed to the new and exciting adventures that awaited them, especially Pia and Anna, after having been cloistered for so long.
When the small boat arrived in London, Pia nearly kissed the slimy wooden planks of the dock. “Never again!” she cried.
Anna and Sebastian had nursed her throughout her violent seasickness over the course of the entire journey.
“How will we ever get to Cartagena, my love?” Anna asked, trying to make light of her ill humor. They had spent many hours onboard the ship talking about where they would go after England, what parts of the world they would explore.
“I shall never survive it. You two will have to go without me.”
“Unthinkable,” Sebastian soothed, as he helped guide her along the crowded wharf. “Either we all go or we don’t go at all.”
After he had helped Pia to more solid ground, he looked up at an ornate carriage emblazoned with what could only be the seal of the Duke of Mandeville. A liveried servant jumped down from his seat atop the gleaming carriage and pulled open the door. A tall blond gentleman stepped out.
Pia watched Sebastian’s face light up as the man approached, and then turned to see Anna’s face clouding. Before she had a chance to remark upon Anna’s reaction, Pia was swept up in the swell of Sebastian’s enthusiastic cry.
“Leigh!” Sebastian called. “You shouldn’t have come to the docks to meet us. We are dreadfully tired and probably look a fright.”
As the blond man neared, Pia could see more clearly that he was stunningly handsome. Her seasickness must be wearing off because she thought he might be the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He radiated a classical perfection. A perfectly straight Roman nose, alert light-blue eyes fringed with dark lashes, and a lush mouth that looked quite sinful, almost feminine. But the wide turn of his jaw was utterly masculine and harsh, a perfect counterpoint to those sultry lips.