by Sara Orwig
At the appointed time, Don Felipe appeared in the hall outside the dressing room and offered her his arm. In one of the count’s carriages they rode past the imposing Palacio Real with its Italian architecture of Guadarrama granite to the Cathedral de La Almudena beside it. There Quita walked down the aisle to wed the Count of Marcheno.
As they stood before the priest, she felt as if she couldn’t breathe and her fingers trembled. It seemed an impossible dream. When she was to repeat her vows, she turned and Armando took her hand in his. Vows exchanged, he slipped a wide gold band with a huge diamond on her finger. Her other hand bore the golden serpent. The priest declared them to be man and wife.
Armando leaned down to kiss her lightly and they left the church for festivities at Marcheno Castle.
As she stood receiving good wishes from first one Marcheno relative, then another, she cast quick glances at her handsome husband. In his black coat and breeches, the red sash with decorations for his valor serving the army of Spain across his chest, his elegant shining boots, and his mass of unruly black curls, he was the most handsome man present, and she continually wanted to look at him and touch him.
Later, as she stood talking to three young unmarried cousins whom she had grown to like, Armando touched her arm. Drawing her aside, he whispered, “Go to your room and wait for me.”
She glanced around and discovered that momentarily they had been left to themselves. She gathered her skirt and did as he asked, hearing the noise of guests’ voices mingling with the sound of guitars fade as she mounted the stairs. No one was stirring in the upstairs hall. Her heart pounding with excitement, she rushed to her room and closed the door.
She could still hear music coming from below, both from musicians in the crowded ballroom and from the band on the lawn outside. She happily studied her heavy gold wedding band and its magnificent diamond. La Condesa Marcheno, mistress of Marcheno Castle, wife of Armando. She felt delirious with joy and then, only for an instant, sad for Lianna, who had given up the most wonderful future because of Edwin Stafford, a stableboy. Lianna would have forgotten Edwin by now. How could anyone see another man when Armando smiled? A rap interrupted her thoughts and she whirled to open the door.
Armando stood smiling on the threshold, his black eyes devouring her as he extended his hand. “Come quickly so we can escape notice.”
She followed him and they wound up another flight of stairs to the top floor of the castle, where they hurried along the wide hall to the east wing.
Two servants guarded tall wooden doors at one end of the hall.
“They are to see to it that we are not disturbed tonight.”
The guards nodded in greeting and opened one door, closing it swiftly behind the newlyweds. Quita and Armando walked down another hallway that had five rooms opening from the end of it. Armando flung open the door to the last room and scooped her into his arms to carry her inside. “I had this redone to give a better view of my land. These are the bridal rooms, but they’re also where I come when I want to be alone.”
The huge room had Moorish influence in its architecture. Wide glassed arches gave a graceful openness to the room. A breathtaking view of his grounds spread before them, yet they were shut away on a high upper level of the castle in complete privacy. Like the rest of the castle, the room was magnificent, only far more so than her bedchamber. A massive, heavily carved bed canopied in deep wine velvet stood at one end of the room. The chairs, their curving feet as deeply carved as the bed, were upholstered in wine velvet. A marble washstand held a large china bowl and pitcher; a wide hearth had logs laid for a fire if needed. An armoire as impressive as the rest of the furniture and an oval mirror stood along one wall. Beneath the mirror was a table holding a tray of cut crystal decanters of amber liquid and pale white wine. At the far side of the room, a door stood open and through it Quita could see a drawing room just as marvelously furnished in pale blue damask.
Armando set her on her feet and crossed the room to pour wine. Picking up two glasses, he handed one to her, then raised his in a toast. “To a long and happy and fruitful union.”
She smiled, touching her glass lightly with his, and watched him as she lowered her glass to sip the wine. Earlier in the week she had learned he owned several vineyards and the wine served at the castle was his.
His dark eyes seemed to bore into her soul. He lowered his gaze slowly, eyes drifting down her body. She couldn’t swallow wine or think or speak.
“Querida, you’re the most beautiful bride in Spain.”
“Thank you,” she answered solemnly, thinking he was the most handsome man on earth. “I’m a simple farmgirl. You bestow on me an honor beyond measure.” He walked to her to take the wine from her and set both glasses carefully on a table. When he pulled off the scarlet sash with the decorations, shrugged out of his coat and draped them on a chair, Quita felt as if she might melt. His white shirt was elegant, with ruffles falling down the front and over his wrists, the cravat tied high beneath his chin, the steeped collar touching his firm jaw. His body was trim in the waist, narrowing to slender hips and muscled legs, a body of power and strength.
He walked to her and slipped his arms around her lightly, and the moment was agonizingly prolonged as he studied her features as if seeing her for the first time. “No, Lia, it is the other way. I’m the one who is fortunate. I have found my heart.” His lips brushed hers, his thick mustache tickling slightly, and she silently thanked heaven that she had not met Juan by the river and run the terrible risk of losing her virginity. In Spain a woman was ruined, unfit for the most lowly marriage, if she were not chaste.
His mouth pressed firmly now, opening hers as his tongue touched hers, and safely wed, she began to give vent to the stormy passion he stirred, as she kissed him in return.
He gave a muffled groan and pulled away to look down at her. “I want this to be a special night for you,” he said in a vibrant, husky voice that made the temperature in the room rise to suffocating levels. “I shall try to go carefully, slowly, Lia, but it is difficult.” He leaned closer, his thickly lashed eyes closing. “It may be impossible,” he whispered, and crushed her to his hardness, kissing her passionately.
She felt his hands remove the veil from the back of her head and fling it aside; then his fingers tangled in her hair and it came down like black clouds out of the sky, tumbling over her shoulders, curling on the white lace.
“Turn around,” he commanded. She stood quietly while he unfastened the tiny buttons that ran from her neckline to her waist. He swore impatiently and kissed her flesh as it became exposed, his lips trailing where his eager fingers had been. In moments she stood before him, the beautiful dress and thin batiste chemise tangled around her ankles, her body bared for his eyes.
His bold look made her blush and tremble as he swept her into his arms to carry her to the big bed.
The coverlet was turned back. White silken sheets were cold against her bare flesh as he lowered her, then stood up to swiftly peel away his clothes. He was finely shaped, with a muscled body, caramel-colored skin, and a powerful chest covered by a thick mat of curling black hair that tapered to a thin line over his stomach. On fire, she reached for him, holding out her arms.
He caught her hand to kiss her fingertips, watching her. “Querida, I will love you now. You’re mine, and together we’ll experience all the pleasures of love.” He lowered himself on the bed and pulled her against him, his flesh hot against hers as he began to kiss her slowly.
It was forever; it was fleeting seconds; finally he mounted her writhing form and spread her legs, watching her intently, his hooded eyes proclaiming his hunger. He lowered his weight and his hot thrusting manhood entered her soft warmth.
She bit back a cry, then gave a gasp of pain while he murmured endearments and kissed her.
For an instant she lay in agony as he moved within her. “Lia,” he whispered, “I don’t want to hurt you. Move…”
At last he cried her name and reached a sh
uddering release, his weight pressing her into the bed as he breathed deeply.
For a long time he held her, stroking her hair, whispering words of love. Then he rose on his elbows and looked at her. She adored him. Running her hands across his shoulders, she whispered shyly, “I love you, Armando.”
He smiled. “My love. That was not good for you, but next time it will be, Lia. I promise you.”
“I’m the happiest woman on earth.”
He smiled and moved beside her. “But I can make you a much happier woman.”
She felt giddy and happy, rolling on her side to face him. “Impossible!”
“It’s very possible,” he persisted.
She shook her head, wrinkling her nose at him.
“I’ll show you,” he said. “There are certain steps to follow. First, I must look at you…simple enough.” He sat up and ran his eyes over her as she rolled on her back and lay still, feeling her nipples grow taut beneath his searching scrutiny. Her hips moved slightly.
“Armando,” she whispered, amazed that she would want him again when it had been so painful.
“Ah, that is just the first step. Now, the second. I touch you, lightly, like this.” His hand traced circles around her full breast, teasing without touching the pointed nipple. Then he leaned down, his hot breath brushing the peak, making her want to push his mouth down to cover the dusky pink tip.
“You torment me!” she whispered, and he chuckled deep in his throat.
“The next step, Lia, you must do. Move your hands on my thighs.”
“Armando!” she whispered as she did as he asked, and then she was in his arms. His throbbing manhood was ready again, yet he kissed her and caressed her, until she gasped in urgent need.
He filled her softness with his heated shaft and this time he moved slowly. The sharp pain changed, and white-hot desire made her moan with longing. Her blood thundered in her veins and she cried out in rapture. She felt the hot rush of his seed and silently she prayed to conceive a son from this union, a son from this night to bind Armando to her irrevocably for all time, because she was bound to him. He possessed her body and he owned her heart.
Midmorning the next day, Armando rolled over and regarded Quita happily while her hands explored his flesh. “Querida, do you realize we have not eaten in twenty-four hours?”
“I don’t think I need to eat in the next twenty-four days.”
He chuckled and yanked her down on his chest so that her soft breasts pressed against him. “My lusty bride whose shyness has evaporated like mist beneath the hot Spanish sun.”
“I’m your creation. You taught me to be wanton.”
“I think I shall teach you more. But hunger gnaws at my insides. I’ll summon the servants and we’ll feast and love and take our time.”
“How long will we stay here, Armando?”
He stood up and she rolled on her back to relish the sight of his naked body. “When we tire of these chambers, one of my ships will be readied, and we’ll sail. I want to show you the wonders of the world. We’ll sail to the New World, where I want to look at land holdings King Ferdinand has bestowed on me. I’ve heard of rumblings of discontent there and I want to see for myself that all is well. Also, my cousin Francisco is there.”
Her bright, glorious world became clouded and she sat up in bed. She frowned, thinking of Captain Raven and Lianna, who had sailed for Chile.
“I would rather stay here, Armando.”
He turned to look at her and laughed. “You’re too lusty a wench to have been such a shy maiden only yesterday!”
Her mind raced, and she felt the return of old fears she had thought ended the moment the wedding vows were said. “No. I’m afraid of the sea. The voyage here was frightening. There was a storm.”
He opened the armoire and pulled out a dressing gown that he slipped into and belted around his waist. He brought a pale blue silk gown to her and sat down on the bed, holding the robe open for her. “Lia, you will be safe. My ships have sailed for years and it’s been a long, long time since I lost one due to a storm. We’ll put in to the nearest port if bad weather threatens.” He tilted her chin upward. “Now, no frowns. Give me a smile or I shall have to coax one out of you.”
Suddenly the New World seemed a very distant threat and she forgot her fears. Mischievously she frowned and firmed her lips in an exaggerated pout. He laughed deep in his throat.
“So, I shall have to coax one out of you. What a task! Now, how shall I do this?” He leaned forward to kiss the corner of her mouth. “I fear I shall emerge from the marriage chamber a bare skeleton of a man who is weak and dwindling from hunger and fatigue.”
She laughed and fell back on the bed, pulling him down on top of her. His arms slipped around her. “My world is perfect!” she said, forgetting about their coming voyage.
13
In her small cabin the hours Lianna spent shut away became long and tedious. Each morning the steward brought breakfast, a tray with oranges, a bowl of cold lobscouse, a thick stew of salt pork and burgoo, and oatmeal sweetened with molasses. Occasionally the tray bore a book sent by Josh, who in the dead of night came regularly to take her abovedeck for a stroll.
When midnight approached, Josh finished writing in the ship’s ledger and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands across his reddened eyes. For the past week he had been toying with a notion and at last had come to a decision. When they stopped in La Coruña to let the Spanish sailors dock, he intended to wed Lianna.
For the first time he looked ahead. The future had always been an uncertainty in his life—one he had ignored. But no longer. Too much was at stake, especially the good life he wanted for Lianna.
He wanted her to be accepted, and knew that those who had shunned him and had closed their doors to him would treat Lianna the same way unless he was welcomed in society. He hit the table with his clenched fist, wondering how long his father’s anger would haunt his life.
Crossing his feet on the table and locking his hands behind his head, he watched the lantern overhead sway with the rocking motion of the ship. They could sail together and establish a home in London between journeys. And later, there would be a child—the thought took his breath away. He hadn’t thought about a family before in his life, yet now that he had started to contemplate it, he hungered for it. He wanted Lianna’s love, he wanted children by her, and the thought made him willing to move heaven and earth to achieve his dream.
He wanted to declare his love over and over, but he couldn’t. Where love was concerned, he was too vulnerable and his awareness of his vulnerability was no aid despite all logical thought. He’d had too many rejections in his childhood; he simply couldn’t endure Lianna’s mocking contempt nor give her a weapon to use against him.
Restlessly he stood up and paced the cabin, finally crossing to a porthole to stare out at the boundless sea. It was in his blood; for almost half his life it had been his livelihood. Lianna loved sailing as well as he, and she was a natural sailor. Yet if they had a home in London where they could go between journeys, could he make certain they would be accepted? He rubbed the back of his neck and watched steady whitecaps rolling by.
Planting his feet apart, he braced his hands against the bulkhead. He wanted her, but he wanted to give her a good life, not the closed existence of an outcast. He would fight in the Chilean venture for his future and win his damned countrymen over in spite of the duke!
If only he could make Lianna come to love him! When she was happy, her laughter was magic. Her passion was deeper sorcery. His blood stirred at the thought, and turning abruptly, he reached for his cape so he might fetch her for a walk topside.
As midnight approached, Lianna’s spirits lifted. Dressed in a woolen dress of deep blue, she was more impatient than ever to escape the confines of the narrow cabin. When a key grated in the lock, she dropped the book she was reading and sat up in the hammock, her heart leaping at the sight of Raven.
“Would you care for a walk topside?�
�� he asked while his eyes lit with pleasure.
His thick brown hair and unwavering cool gaze reminded Lianna of the lion figurehead at the bow of the ship; it was a fitting symbol for Raven. Even though he lounged against the door, apparently relaxed, she sensed he held his strength in check.
When she approached the door, he continued to lounge in her path. Her steps slowed, then halted as she stared at his mocking green eyes tinged with an unnerving current.
“In exchange for a stroll and temporary freedom, I deserve a kiss of gratitude,” he teased.
“Another of your cavalier demands,” she answered, trying to hide the jump in her pulse.
“Such tact!” He laughed heartily.
“I think, Captain Raven, you’re accustomed to swooning females who languish for your smile. You’re sufficiently handsome. Why didn’t you find a willing female who would be happy with you?”
“Thank you, love! How nice to discover you find me handsome!” With a twinkle in his eyes he said, “Blue flames are about to scorch me!”
“Well they should! The flames of Halifax should roast you for your confounded ways!”
“My, oh my! What a vixen! Or do I detect an effort to suppress a smile?” He leaned down to peer closely into her eyes and Lianna could no longer remain solemn.
Looking into each other’s eyes, they both laughed. His white teeth were even; creases deepened in his cheeks. “You’re an absolute ruffian,” she said teasingly. “Neither words nor blows can dent your hardened hide. Shall we go?”
“When do I get my kiss?”
“How I’d hoped you would forget!”
“Not in the next thousand years could I forget a kiss from you!”
White teeth flashed in a vexing grin. She knew there was to be no escape from his demand. Her gaze lowered to his firm lips, her breath stopped, and her heart beat wildly. She forgot their teasing banter. She was drawn to him as a flower to sunshine, raising her lips while the world around them became a blur.