“Freedom you seek,” she said in an angry mutter, “but freedom you banned, from week to week, for your kinfolk and mine.” She paraphrased her next complaint by pointing first at Mark and then gesturing, in emphasis, at the statue and herself. “What I truly seek, is for Mark to be free, to a greater degree, than you or me.”
The statue began to break apart. Mark gasped as gold flecks scattered. A black tornado spun, and Nevara and the lynx scrambled away. Mark jumped up, pushing Nevara behind him.
From within the wind, a form grew until it stood tall, glaring at them. The wind died, revealing an ancient Spaniard carrying a loaded crossbow. His knee-length jerkin of richly patterned red, black and gold was worn over a simple white doublet and dark hose. His flowing cloak reached his ankles
The Zincali and the Terrances rushed over.
The Huntsman remained as rigid as before. But now, Nevara could clearly see the dark magic strands that confined him.
She pulled away from Mark’s hold and approached the ensorcelled wizard.
MARK’S HEART HAMMERED in excitement as with a few tugs and twists, Nevara began to work her invisible magic to set his ancestor free. Once she was done, she stepped back, and the ancient wizard opened his eyes.
He instantly aimed his crossbow at Nevara. Beneath his tremendous black hat, his intention was clear in his eyes.
Mark placed himself between Nevara and his great relative, afraid he might shoot. “Hold your fire. No dispare!”
The Huntsman’s gaze went from Mark to Nevara and back again. “Where is the witch?” he asked in Spanish.
“If you mean Anna Louisa or her grandmother, they are both dead, sir,” Mark responded in his mother tongue. Then he pinched his own arm to remind himself to breathe. He was speaking with his great-great-grandfather! Miguel would have loved to be here. He sent a silent prayer up to heaven. I hope you are watching, big brother.
Nevara’s hand slipped into his, and he squeezed it in thanks. This adorable, priceless, passionate woman had granted Mark his greatest wish. As long as he lived, he could never repay her for this. “Sir, how much do you remember of what has happened to you?”
The Huntsman glanced around his surroundings as the Zincali and the Terrances gathered closer, their whispering voices rising in excitement. Slowly, he lowered his crossbow. “I do not recognize anyone,” he said. “And my head feels as if I have been caught up in a dream for a long night.”
“It has been more than one night,” Mark said. “You were trapped as a statue for three centuries. This is the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and fourteen. October. We—” He indicated Nevara, himself and the rest of them. “—came to rescue you as soon as we discovered that you were trapped. I am sorry it has taken us so long.”
The Huntsman digested the news and then bowed. “I am Miguel Cordero Dimas,” he replied. “Whom do I owe thanks for my return to human form?”
Miguel! Mark had forgotten his brother had been given this ancestor’s name. His chest swelled with joy. In some odd way, in rescuing this Huntsman, it felt as if he had rescued a small part of his brother.
Mark turned to Nevara, his throat swollen so tight he could barely speak. “He wants to meet you.”
Her eyes warmed as she stepped forward. She looked as if it was she who had been given the greatest gift. Mark tugged her closer and made the introductions.
“And who are you, sir?” the Huntsman asked.
“Mark Dimas Alvaro. Your great-great-grandson.”
The Huntsman’s attention trained on Mark, like a hunter studying a new prey. He was checked from head to toe, and then the Huntsman’s gaze fell to Don Sabio. Finally, his ancestor nodded, as if he believed him. “When the witch attacked my camp, my familiar died defending me.” For the first time, Mark noticed sorrow in the fierce Huntsman’s gaze.
Mark ruffled the lynx’s ear with profound understanding. If anything ever happened to this animal, it would be like having a piece of his soul torn off. He turned to Nevara to hide his emotion. “This is the young lady who released you.”
The Huntsman bowed to Nevara. “My lady, I am in your debt.”
Mark translated for her and then gave the Huntsman a succinct explanation of what had taken place on this incredible day.
Nevara tugged at Mark’s sleeve. “Ask him why my simple rhyme worked so well to release him.”
He did, curious himself about that turnabout.
“Ah,” the Huntsman said with a sage nod. “Yes, then I understand. Since only I could break your obligation to protect the lady, asking me to free you acted to free me as well.”
The Huntsman absolved Mark of all responsibility for Nevara. “Now I am returned to life, I will carry out the duty of watching over the lovely señorita,” he said.
Mark’s grin widened until his cheeks were stretched tight. It was hard to wipe away his smile as he translated for Nevara.
She frowned. “Thank you, but I do not need protection.”
Belle stepped closer to her and hugged her friend. “You may have won the battle, my dear Nevara, but not the war. Best accept your defeat graciously.”
“My master, Señor Cordero Juan Nero de Rivera, entrusted his daughter to my care,” the Huntsman said, “but I failed to protect her—a regret I must live with. Now I am again alive in a fascinating time.” He slapped his chest with his fist. “I vow to safeguard you with my life. I will not fail a second time.”
Mark raised Nevara’s hand for a kiss. “Your wish for independence may be a lost cause, Nevara.” He did not add that he was pleased to relinquish this family duty to his ancestor so he could spend his time simply loving Nevara.
“You show the lady marked attention,” the Huntsman said. “Is she your wife?”
Mark self-consciously released Nevara’s hand and stepped back a pace. “Not yet, sir. The first time I proposed, she did not accept.”
The Huntsman frowned. “Did you present yourself properly? With kind words of love and devotion as well as flowers and gifts?”
Must everyone scold him on how badly he had handled this courtship? He had learned his lesson. His next proposal would be vastly different, more polished and in private.
The Zincali and the Terrances were chuckling, having understood the Huntsman’s Spanish, but Nevara looked confused.
Thankful for that small mercy, Mark, his teeth clenched, muttered in his native tongue, “I was in the midst of a crisis!”
“I concur with the Huntsman, Alvaro,” Terrance said in a mock stern tone, and in English. “You have waited far too long to propose again to the lady. Best get on with it.”
“It does seem overdue, Mark,” Lady Terrance’s knowing gaze told him that she was well aware of exactly how in arrears he was with this proposal.
Mark’s ears reddened at the reminder that he had made love to Nevara without first making her his wife. He accepted the rebuke but refused to propose to Nevara in this olive grove, in front of everyone.
Nevara, too, was now blushing.
Seeing her discomfort, Mark’s resistance to his friends’ urging died, and he gave in gracefully. He took Nevara’s hand and turned her to face him. Kneeling on one knee, he ignored his audience and spoke the words he had been practicing since his last ill-timed and ill-spoken proposal. “Nevara Wood, I love you with every breath in me. You are the only woman I want to spend the rest of my life kissing awake each morning and tucking into my arms at night. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Tears sprang in her eyes. To his surprise, she, too, knelt, right there in the dirt of the olive grove. “Mark Dimas Alvaro,” she said, “I love you and it would be my greatest joy to take you as my husband.”
Mark let out a shout and claimed his long-overdue kiss. His hands had barely begun to explore under her many layers of clothing when the loud reac
tion of their gypsy audience warned Mark his seduction was not only inappropriate, but was about to be wrecked.
With alarmed shouts, as if Mark was caught trying to steal their possessions, Paco, his wife and his entire family crowded around Nevara, lifting her to her feet and pushing Mark aside. The gypsies spoke in a rapid and not very complimentary manner, pointing accusatory fingers at him. Instead of offering Mark sympathy, the Terrances and the Huntsman began to laugh.
The Zincali hid Nevara, insisting that a bride had to be pure before her wedding and accused Mark of attempting to sully Nevara’s virtue. Apparently there was to be no pre-marital relations for the two years she would be engaged to him.
Mark lost his temper. “I have no intention of waiting more than a day to marry Nevara.”
Eventually, with Lord Terrance acting as a mediator who explained that English customs were different from those of the Zincali, they settled on a two-month wait so proper preparations could be made for the wedding. However, the gypsies would not budge from their insistence that the bride should remain untouched before her wedding day, leaving Mark fuming. The only thing that made the long frustrating wait ahead of him bearable was Nevara’s joyful smile, which showed she was finally at peace, surrounded by friends who loved her unconditionally.
Epilogue
TWO MONTHS LATER, Nevara, grateful to be gowned in proper English style in a blue high-waisted gown, walked toward the family graveyard behind Anna Louisa’s hacienda. The day of her wedding was here at last.
While the gypsies’ protective behavior toward Nevara these past weeks had charmed her, it had left Mark entirely enraged that he must forfeit even one kiss from his betrothed. For weeks now, he had been crosser than a bull. Though Nevara was secretly pleased by his discomfort, she, too, was looking forward to the end of their separation.
Lord Terrance, while immensely amused by Mark’s predicament, did convince him to expend his excess energy in fixing the broken fences around the estate. With the assistance of Paco and some Spanish workers, they re-built the de Rivera estate, bringing it back to a semblance of its former glory. Nevara hoped Anna Louisa approved.
The rainy season had begun in Andalucia, so there was little need for her to continue to water the violet viper bugloss covering Anna Louisa’s grave. She knelt beside the gravestone and sent up a silent prayer for a woman who had loved this land more than she had her life.
“I swore to take care of your home, Anna Louisa,” she whispered, “and I intend to keep that vow. You will not be disappointed, I promise you.”
The sound of a carriage pulling up distracted her. She was not expecting anyone here today. Wedding guests were to await her and Mark at the church. A second carriage rolling into the front pavement had her rushing back into the hacienda.
“What is happening?” she asked her guard.
The young girl, one of Paco’s children, shrugged, but her sly smile sent excitement coursing through Nevara as she raced through the kitchen and corridor to the entrada.
The sight of several carriages lining up along the driveway took her breath away. English footmen in formal livery climbed down to open the door of the first carriage, and Nevara gasped in delighted shock. That footmen’s livery and the crest on the carriage door could belong to but one nobleman, the Duke of Morton.
Mark came round the side of the hacienda and watched her with a tender smile. He had arranged this—for her friends to come to their wedding!
Swallowing tears, she adjusted her spectacles and rushed out to greet Daniel Trenton. He stepped onto the Spanish courtyard, his black cat, Phoenix riding on his shoulder. He laughed at her hasty approach, and Phoenix leaped off his shoulder before he engulfed her in a big hug that swept her off her feet.
“Mr. Trenton,” she said in a mock severe tone, “kindly put me down, sir.”
“That is ‘your grace,’ to you, Miss Wood,” he said with a broad smile. “I do not care how arrogant you consider me, you will address me properly.”
She laughed at his scolding, knowing he meant not a word of it. Daniel Trenton was the least pretentious man she knew. He released her to turn and help his wife descend from the carriage. Born Lady Faith Rosemary Went, the daughter of the Duke of Burley, she was now the Duchess of Morton. Nevara curtsied deeply. Faith, too, ignored all formality and gave her a fierce hug.
“I am so glad to be able to attend your wedding.”
The passengers of the other carriages soon descended to greet her. Sir Phillip and Lady Roselyn had arrived in the company of many of the Rue Alliance members, including Stony and Mary and even the elderly Mrs. Weatheringham and her granddaughter, Hope.
Nevara saved a special hug for the little girl. She felt much in sympathy with this child who had unwittingly helped her to break Anna Louisa’s spell. She might not be able to change Hope’s destiny by ridding her of her formidable ability to stop a shift, but she could teach her how to live and be proud of herself and her extraordinary talent. That brought her up short. If she lived in Spain, she would not have much of a chance to influence Hope as she grew older.
That also reminded her of John Preston, Mark’s dear friend in London. He would not have arrived with this group. How could he, since he was unaware of the magical side of Mark. But Mark loved him like a father, of that she was certain. Then she recalled all the stories Miguel used to tell her about how much Mark loved living in London.
She glanced up, searching for Mark and was astonished to see him greet his grandmother. Nevara hesitated, wanting to go forward but was unsure if she would be welcome. After all, it was because of her that Mark had been put in danger.
Before she could decide how to approach the intimidating Spanish lady, the Terrances led everyone indoors. Then the Zincali came forward to meet the rest of their lost blood kin. The exchange began with respect and dignity but soon deteriorated into informal hugs and kisses. In the confusion, Belle lost sight of the Alvaros.
Invariably, the gypsies broke into playing music and dancing, appearing to have begun their three-day-long grand fiesta planned for after the wedding.
Sir Phillip and Lady Roselyn drew Nevara aside to one of the benches in the entrada.
“I am so pleased to see you, Lady Roselyn,” Nevara said. “I cannot believe you traveled all the way here in your state of expectancy.”
“I, too, was worried,” Sir Phillip said. “However, Alvaro’s grandmother assured us that in her company, we would not feel a moment’s discomfort. She spoke the truth. The captain could not believe the ease and speed with which we reached Cadiz in three short weeks. We seemed to have a steady wind all the way from England’s shore to Spain’s.”
“I have not spoken to Elisa Juliana Alvaro yet,” Nevara said, feeling nervous. She was not sure that Mark’s grandmother, now finally having reached her homeland, would be happy with a new plan that Nevara was now contemplating for her and Mark’s future.
“She will adore you, Miss Wood.” Lady Roselyn gave her a hesitant glance. “May I call you Nevara? And you must call me Rose.”
“Of course.” Nevara’s cheeks grew hot for Lady Roselyn—Rose—was in essence asking her to be her friend instead of an employee. All of her relationships were changing.
“Well then, Nevara,” Rose said, “my advice regarding Mark’s grandmother is to not worry on that quarter at all. You have saved her grandson, rescued her long lost relative and made it possible for her to return to Spain where I suspect her heart has always resided.”
“Before you go to meet her,” Sir Phillip said, “tell us a little of what happened here and what you have learned of the Rue Alliance’s origins.”
Nevara gave them a quick account of the spell that had created the Rue Alliance and about the impossibility of breaking such a spell.
Rose nodded. “You have done exceptionally well. We have all resigned ourselves to who w
e are. This information merely strengthens the alliance because you have unearthed our past, the foundation on which our talents rest.”
“There were many moments when I thought I had done nothing but bring destruction to those I loved,” Nevara said. “We are lucky everything turned out well.”
“That type of luck is man-made,” Sir Phillip said. “Now, I have a request.” At her questioning glance, he said, “You have been under my care for over a year. I have been as responsible for you as a guardian might. As such, I would like the privilege of walking you down the aisle. May I?”
Nevara was incredibly touched. “Yes, sir, I would be most honored if you would.”
Sir Phillip sat back with a pleased smile, and Rose gave her a gentle hug. “Time to face your dragon, my dear.”
Nevara nodded and went in search of Mark’s grandmother. One of Paco’s children directed her to a room beside the study where the austere Spanish lady was relaxing after her voyage and conversing with her great-grandfather. The door was ajar and through the opening, she spotted Elisa Alvaro embracing the Huntsman. She was about to quietly retreat, when the Spanish lady gestured her in.
“I did not mean to intrude.”
“Come,” Señora Alvaro said. “I have been waiting for you.”
The Huntsman winked encouragingly at Nevara as he left, closing the door behind him.
Nevara entered and curtsied low. “I am so sorry for putting Mark in danger,” she blurted. “He tried to warn me not to come, but I would not listen.”
“And here, I have been waiting to thank you for putting my oh-so-complacent grandson in danger and thoroughly challenging him. Mark thrives on winning against impossible odds. None of this would have been possible otherwise.” At Nevara’s surprised gasp, Señora Alvaro shrugged. “I am an old woman, Nevara, and I have made many mistakes as well, the most prominent one being my refusal to allow my family to take you in after we found out what your aunt was capable of.”
She sat on the settee and waited for Nevara to join her. “As your watchers, I thought it was not our responsibility to interfere in your life. For that error in judgment, you have my sincerest apology and my heartfelt thanks for giving me back my family and my homeland.”
A Perfect Curse Page 27