by Tina Donahue
She seemed to have realized his concern, no longer staring at him as though he’d grown another head.
Once Tomás finished what was on his plate, he stood. His men shot to their feet.
Tomás offered a gallant bow. “Your hospitality is sublime, but we need to return to our duties. Brother, beauteous Sancha”—he inclined his head to both—“I hope we can see each other again soon.”
“Certainly not because of a raid,” Pedro said.
Tomás arched one eyebrow.
“Adios.” Enrique dismissed them with an impatient gesture. “Be certain to take the Moor with you. Tomás, a word?”
His brother leaned down to him.
Enrique whispered, “Tell Pedro to be quiet about Sancha’s healing.”
“I had already planned to.”
The moment the men’s footfalls had faded, she touched Enrique’s hand. “Forgive me.”
“For what?”
“Worrying whether they would gossip if you and I had come in here together but not once thinking to keep quiet about my work.”
“No harm done.” He wrapped his fingers around hers. “I kept them occupied on other matters as Tomás had at the village, so none saw what you did.”
“I should be more careful.”
“Agreed.”
She lowered her face.
“You need not quit. Just be more careful.”
“I will.”
He smiled as she did and kissed her fingertips. “Have you had your fill of food?”
“I have.”
“Come.” He caressed her fingers. “I have something to show you.”
He brought her to the kennels. Since she’d moved here, he’d instructed his servants to keep the dogs away from the castle, fearing the animals would disturb her studies or frighten her.
At the first yip, she pulled her hand from his and hurried into the building, as airy and clean as her rooms. By the time he entered, she was on her knees, holding a galgo pup to her cheek.
“How could you keep her from me?” She pushed out her bottom lip. “How dare you.”
He laughed. “If you love her so much, you can tend to her all you want. The pup is newly weaned and yours.”
She kissed the dog’s long snout. “She will surely miss her mamá.”
“Make her forget. Make her happy.”
The pup licked her neck. She giggled. “What should I call her? Wait—I have it. Rosa.”
Perfect. The dog’s name matched Sancha’s wonderful fragrance. He instructed his servants to place a blanket in a basket for the pup so she could take Rosa with them as they enjoyed their first hours of pursuing happiness.
* * * *
Enrique wasn’t certain what was best: their long walks, her interest in his work with the estate, or their pleasant meals on the balcony, in the garden, and several times near the edge of the hill, where they had an unrestricted view of his property.
There were so many things to do and for him to show her that they didn’t end up at the pond until three days later, near midnight.
With her nudity pressed to his, she suckled his throat.
He grinned so hard, his cheeks hurt. “Are you certain you want to go into the water?” He was perfectly happy to stay on the blanket within each other’s arms.
“Can you teach me to swim here?”
He laughed. “No.”
“The water it is.” She pushed to her feet. “I challenge you to a race.”
He propped himself on one elbow and looked over. She’d offered her challenge when she was already steps from him. “Go on, keep running. Even if you fly, I will best you.”
She curled her upper lip.
He sprinted, catching her before she reached the pond, and lifted her into his arms. She squealed.
“Now, you learn to swim.” He entered the water.
“No.” She buried her face in his chest. “If you throw me in as your papá did with you, I will surely drown.”
Not likely. She was strong enough to teach a man how to be brave. Someday, she would be his in every way. Smiling, he lowered her into the water and had her float first to ease her fear.
After several minutes, she frowned. “I tire of this. Challenge me.”
He became the stern taskmaster, putting Sancha through her paces until she swam on her own. Not well, but skill would come on the other days where they sought to be naught but happy.
After eating their late meal, they sauntered back to the castle. Rosa was in her basket, asleep, at the bottom of the grand stairway. The servant who’d tended her bowed slightly and left for bed, given the hour.
Sancha stroked the galgo’s head.
A letter lay on a cabinet to the side, left there without the servants telling him. His fault, not theirs. He’d given them stern instructions not to disturb him and Sancha. The missive had Fernando’s seal on the back, Sancha’s name scrawled on the front.
“For you.” He handed her the unopened letter.
She stepped into the candlelight, head bent as she read, complexion draining of color.
“What is it?” He prayed Fernando hadn’t take a bad turn from his previous injuries or that Isabella had lost the baby.
Sancha looked past him at a horror only she could see.
He touched her arm. “What happened?”
She handed him the letter. He regarded her for a moment, then read the missive.
My dearest Sancha,
You are my sweet sister, my best friend, without you I would die.
My greatest hope had always been to send you naught but good tidings about my coming child, a son if God will, and of Fernando’s and my great happiness.
I am pained to have to tell you this. Rumors are flying about you. Foul words as to you not wedding, refusing to have children as a woman should, you lying about being at the convent (someone inquired and found you have not been there in some time).
Some are saying only a witch would shun marriage and children, as she has already wed the Devil to do his work.
Fernando is trying to learn who is spreading these horrible lies. He promises to run them through when he learns their names.
Sancha, I fear for your safety. Please, you must protect yourself without delay.
I am so sorry to have to tell you any of this.
Your loving sister,
Isabella
Chapter 9
Sancha sank to the stairs, unable to stop trembling. Although the evening was mild, a deep chill settled into her.
Enrique sat close and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “All is not lost.”
She looked at him, knowing their time together had ended.
“I promise to protect you.”
How? He was one man against how many faceless accusers. To say anything in her defense would put him at risk. She pulled away, unable to allow him to endanger himself.
“Sancha, please.” He gathered her to him, his caress gentle yet firm, not allowing her to escape.
She dug her fingers into his shirt. “I only wanted to help others, to learn what I could. How could anything so innocent be wrong? How could anyone say such horrible things about…” She was unable to breathe suddenly. Lightheaded, she clung to him.
He brushed his lips over her ear. “We should speak in my room, lest the servants overhear us.”
With them spreading more lies. Nowhere was safe, free of fear and the reprisals of others who would claim what she’d said or had done was wrong. She wanted to run from the castle and never stop but couldn’t move, her legs leaden, thoughts too scattered to make any plan.
She feared what would happen now, if soldiers were already on their way to arrest her. She had no idea where the Inquisition kept its prisoners. Or whether anyone would listen to the truth concerning her healing, how she’d done nothing more than help others. No matter what she claimed, the inquisitors wouldn’t listen or care.
She shivered
again.
The galgo yipped.
“Rosa.” Sancha cleared her throat, surprised at how odd she sounded, as though she’d been crying. She touched her face, damp with tears, not understanding when she’d started to weep. “I have to talk care of the pup.”
On her feet, she stopped at the cabinet where Enrique had found Isabella’s letter. A new fear gripped Sancha as to whether her sister and the babe she carried were safe.
Enrique slipped the missive in his belt and rested his hand on her arm. “We need to go upstairs.”
“I have to get Rosa.” She had to hide her before the authorities harmed the gentle pup, claiming she was also evil because her owner was a witch.
“Once I have you in my room, I can return for her.” He swept Sancha into his arms.
She twisted his shirt in her fist. “Make certain no one harms her.”
He gave her an odd look. “No one will, I assure you.” He carried her to his chamber and lowered her to the mattress. Candlelight shone from every part of the room as he always ordered. “We can talk as soon as I return.” He gave her the letter.
She grabbed his sleeve before he could leave her side. “Isabella cannot come to harm. She behaves as a warrior, believing she can fight everyone. You have to stop her before she also meets ruin.”
“No one will harm her or you. I give you my word, as Fernando will. Stay here.”
He left for the pup.
She crushed the letter in her fist. A few hours before, happiness had seemed within reach, laughter and joy filling her day. How quickly life could change, dreams ruined, hope denied.
On the word of another. Who? Why? She’d never harmed anyone in her life, making certain to be kind and giving.
Outrage raced through her, pushing away her desperation and fear. She left the mattress and gripped the bedpost hurriedly at the room swaying. She lowered her head to stave off dizziness.
Enrique returned. After putting Rosa on the floor, he closed the chamber door.
She backed away from him. “I have to leave.”
“No.” He sat on the bed and pulled her onto his lap, keeping her close. “Running will change nothing.”
“My worry is for you, not me. If the authorities learn I was here, they will come for you next. Even if I claim to have bewitched you, they—”
“No one is going to do anything to me or you. The solution is simple and right before us.” He touched Isabella’s letter. “The rumors involve you not being at the convent. How could you be there when you were with me? No one can be two places at once, except a witch with dark powers, with this proving you are nothing of the kind.”
He’d gone mad. “You intend to tell the authorities I was here? Have you not heard anything I said?”
“I refuse to hear any plans that take you from me. You being here makes perfect sense when we simply tell everyone we wed.”
“No.” She pushed off his lap.
He pulled her back down. “Why? Because you find me so repulsive?”
“How can you say such a thing after what we shared? You are a man among men. I would be a fool to think otherwise.”
“I know naught of what goes on in your mind until you tell me. I adore you, Sancha. I fell in love the first moment I saw you at the convent. My feelings have only grown deeper since you came here. What of yours? Is lust all you feel, or can I someday hope to win your heart?”
She cried, “You have my love. I have never wanted a man as I do you, but—”
“No.” He rested his finger against her lips. “I know what you mean to say and I can finish for you. You fear marriage, having any man shackle you, taking away your books and healing. If I could replace your desire for knowledge with my love, in order to keep you safe, I would. However, I am no fool. At the village, I saw what healing means to you. If I were to hinder you in anyway, you would hate me forever.”
She shook her head, her throat so tight she could barely speak. “I would protest and resist. Never would I hate you.”
“I would hope not, but I also have no intention of finding out. Wed me and keep to your healing. Not in the villages, though. Not right away. You need to let the rumors die down and behave as other women do, at least around everyone save me. Here, in my castle, you can continue as you have been—learning, experimenting. Your work will be our secret.”
He was giving her the world, his future, and safety without a thought for himself. She couldn’t allow such a thing. “What of your servants knowing what I do here? I know you say they remain loyal, however—”
“They are loyal, but they know nothing of what you do, save for the few guards who accompanied us to the village. In the castle, Hortensia is the only one who has ever been in the room you use. She cleans the chamber, no one else. She has known me since I was a headstrong boy. When Mamá died, Hortensia did everything she could to comfort my sister, my brothers, and me. She will not betray you or us.”
“You offer too much.”
“Only my heart. Will you take it?”
Weeping, she threw her arms around him. “You deserve a woman who would never bring you pain.”
“I want you because of the joy you give me. Tell me you accept my offer.”
She hugged him as hard as she could. “How could I ever refuse you?”
He kissed her deeply, finally broke free, and smiled. “Do you truly expect me to tell you how to refuse me?”
She laughed then froze. “Wait. What of the banns? The ceremony?”
“We need to wed in haste and in secret like our King and Queen.”
“What do you mean?”
He eased back until he could see her face. “Given the rumors and what we must say to disavow them, that you were here with me as my new wife, not consorting with the Devil, we need to keep our nuptials a secret.”
“No. I mean, what were you referring to when you mentioned the monarchs?”
“Oh. They wed in secret, after having known each other for only a few days and kept their marriage hidden for years with the Queen’s father disinheriting her when he found out. Years ago, Papá told me of the scandal, which he found quite amusing. You and I will surely not be the first or the last nobles to wed thusly.”
Although the news was a surprise, the sovereigns’ past didn’t change matters for her and Enrique. “Without banns, someone could accuse us of trying to hide an impediment to the marriage, my being a witch for one. The Inquisition wasn’t established in Spain when the monarchs wed. What sacerdote will join us now without notice to the community? Surely, not the same man who wed Fernando and Isabella. She told me how he threatened her when he learned she wasn’t me.”
“The man is a fool and will not preside over our union, not even if he agreed to do so for a bribe.”
She frowned. “Would he actually ask for one?”
“That or food, since he likes to eat. Many priests have accepted payments to forgive a sin or ignore a rule. Why do you think no one ever holds nobles accountable for their misdeeds? Heresy and witchcraft may be the exception, but other crimes are not. Power and wealth put us above ordinary people who must be circumspect in their dealings. Dominico, a boyhood friend of mine, is a sacerdote, given to the Church by his parents despite his protests. He wanted to be a knight and understands what a heart needs. He will be more than happy to perform and bless our union. Tomás and Pedro can be our witnesses.” He held her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I know you would prefer to have Isabella at your side, but we have no time to wait for her and Fernando to travel here.”
New tears welled in her eyes.
His expression grew pained. “Will you miss her so much or are you concerned about wedding me?”
“No. Yes. No.” She showered him with kisses on his neck, cheeks, and eyebrows. “I will miss having Isabella here but look forward to our union. One day I hope to deserve you.”
Before he could speak, she claimed his mouth, slipping her tongue inside, ta
sting him and her tears.
He stilled for a moment, then pulled her against him, his hand on the back of her head to keep her close.
She never wanted to leave his side.
He took command of their kiss as a noble lord should, filling her mouth with his tongue, possessing her with tenderness, need, passion. She pulled at his garments as he did hers. Soon, they lay naked on the bed, both breathing hard.
Across the room, Rosa yipped, sounding curious rather than distressed.
Concentrating on Enrique, Sancha held his face in her palms.
His smile was slow and seductive, filled with carnal sin. “Does your virtue still need protecting?”
“Not from you. My body and heart are yours to take for as long as you wish.”
“Until our last breaths.”
And beyond, as far as she was concerned. She would need him for eternity. “Fill me.”
He swooped down and captured her mouth once more, hand between her legs. Already, her folds were damp with her desire for him, her channel prepared for his rigid shaft. He pressed closer, his member hot and hard against her thigh, moisture from the slit in his crown dampening her leg.
An unrestrained moan rushed from her, a sound born of love. She drove her fingers through his hair, her mouth hard against his, their kiss desperate as they each tried to get closer, reach deeper.
If they’d been at this a thousand years, she sensed neither of them would have been satisfied until they were a part of each other’s heart and blood.
With his mouth still on hers, he guided Sancha to part her legs. She did even better, drawing her knees back so he could finally, and easily, reach her core.
He thrust his tongue more deeply into her mouth, his fingers gliding over her nub, the movements deceptively slow, decidedly possessive. The familiar ache returned, growing more intense than the other times, more powerful than hate, fear, sadness.
She lifted her hips, delivering herself, wanting Enrique to take her with the right she’d given him.
He controlled himself far more than she had, not rushing, even though he’d waited a long time for these moments.