Devoted to the Spanish Duke
sasha cottman
Copyright © 2020 by Sasha Cottman
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
Promised to the Swedish Prince Chapter One
Also by Sasha Cottman
About the Author
Chapter One
Narros Palace, Spain
September 1816
* * *
Lisandro de Aguirre, Duke of Tolosa, was not one for parties or balls. They were usually dull affairs put on purely for political purposes. He wouldn’t even be here tonight if it weren’t for the fact that this magnificent gathering at Palacio de Narros was to commemorate the marriage of King Ferdinand to the Infanta of Portugal, Maria Isabel.
The wedding itself had taken place in Madrid some two hundred and seventy miles away. Those who supported the king were keen to celebrate, while everyone else had clearly made the effort to attend the party in order to keep up appearances.
Lisandro was firmly one of the latter. He knew that if he didn’t make an appearance, his absence would be noted. And with the king becoming more unpopular every day, his spies were everywhere, looking for possible dissenters. There were rumors of people being arrested and disappearing. A smart man did not tempt that sort of fate.
He finished the last of his wine and handed the glass to a passing servant. He turned back to face the dance floor, continuing his slow search of the room. Somewhere in this crowd tonight there had to be a buxom señora willing to share his bed.
Come now, ladies. Gift me with your smile.
The back of a long blue gown caught his eye and he paused. While it was not unusual to see a garment of such color in Spanish society, it was the style which took him by surprise. Almost every other woman there was dressed in the high fashion of the Spanish royal court; this particular female was most definitely not.
Someone draws her inspiration from the English and French. Bravo.
Keen to get a better look, he waited for the wearer of the gown to turn around. When she finally did, Lisandro was certain that his heart had stopped. For a moment or two he simply stared.
From the light brown tresses that carelessly kissed her pale cheeks to those intoxicating full lips, she was every inch a true Basque beauty.
Lisandro licked his lips.
Perfection.
A pair of warm coffee-colored eyes stared back. He smiled at her. The slow, deliberate blink she gave in return was all the encouragement he needed.
His plans for seducing one of the noble wives would have to wait. He must meet this young woman.
Quickly, but not too obviously, he made his way around to the other side of the dance floor, stopping every so often to make sure she was still standing where he had last seen her.
She was; he knew this because he caught her gaze every single time he halted in his progress.
Where have you been all my life? You are stunning.
He could only pray that this mystery woman wasn’t going to turn out to be some distant relative his mother had forgotten to mention. Lisandro was certain he was somehow related to every noble family in this part of northern Spain.
She gave a quick look back over her shoulder as she turned and headed for a nearby archway. The invitation for him to follow was clear.
My wish is your command.
On the other side of the arch, a door led to a wide stone terrace. The moment he stepped outside Lisandro took a deep breath. The cool night air was a welcome respite from the heat and cigar smoke of the crowded ballroom.
Brightly burning fire-cages and torches lit the terrace, while down below beyond the edge of Zarautz Beach lay the inky black of the Cantabrian Sea.
The mysterious woman made her way toward the set of steps leading down the rocky seawall and onto the sand. Lisandro followed, keeping a respectable distance.
A perfect, private interlude on the beach? What an excellent idea.
She reached the top of the stairs and stopped. Blast. He slowed his steps. She turned and faced him.
In the light from the flickering flames of a nearby torch, he caught the unmistakable look of uncertainty on her face.
Damn. She is an innocent playing at a game for grown-ups.
Lisandro had rules about young, sexually inexperienced women. Unless a man had in mind to marry the girl in question, they were strictly off-limits. Perhaps he would toy a little with her, rewarding her boldness, but go no further.
Finally, he reached her side and dipped into a low bow.
She gave him a soft but clearly practiced smile. Lisandro stifled a grin. Someone had trained her well in the art of the subtle flirt. Of showing a hint of interest but nothing more. Women kept their reputations carefully guarded in this part of the world.
“Buenas tardes, señorita,” he said.
“Is it? I am not so certain. Considering that you, a perfect stranger, have been staring at me for the past while and have now followed me outside away from the other guests, I do have to question whether you are sincere in wishing me a good evening. Or is that just your usual opening line for women?” she replied.
Oh yes, you have been well taught. Under other circumstances, you and I could have a spot of delightful fun. Such a pity.
He chanced a look at her hands, grateful that the weather made it too hot to wear formal gloves. A white fan was held fast to her wrist with a piece of matching ribbon. Around her neck was a thick gold chain upon which hung a Santiago medallion. On her long, slim fingers there was no
sign of a wedding or betrothal ring.
An unmarried beauty.
Whoever this vision of loveliness was, it seemed no one had yet laid claim to her. Interesting.
“You have me all wrong. I wish nothing but the best for you,” he replied.
She looked him up and down, the soft smile on her lips informing him that she was pleased with what she saw.
“Are you enjoying this evening?” he asked.
She shrugged. “It is as I expected. A party full of people discussing politics and gossiping about one another. Most people are just here to be seen.”
Lisandro raised an eyebrow at her words. It was unusual to find a young woman of quality who didn’t enjoy major social events. It spoke of a mind that found interest in more substantial matters. “I thought all the young señoritas would be excited about this evening. It is not every day that the king takes a new bride,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed. Her easygoing demeanor changing to one of guarded wariness. He was probing, seeking to discover what she really thought of the king. Did she see him as a tyrant too?
“Well, of course I was excited about tonight. All loyal subjects wish happiness for His Catholic Majesty. But the rooms of Narros Palace are stifling and crowded. That was all I meant,” she replied.
Wise words. Never let anyone know what you truly think of the king unless you fully support him.
Lisandro came and stood beside the young woman; his gaze focused on the night sea. At the edge of the water, he could make out the line of white foam from the waves. He loved the ocean—it was a pity that his family home at Tolosa was some sixteen miles inland and these days, he rarely made the journey north to the coastal town of Zarautz.
“Don’t you just love the smell of sea salt in the air?” she asked.
Lisandro chuckled. This girl was truly unlike most other women he had met. She was, like the air, a refreshing change. Beautiful, intelligent, and interesting. What an enticing combination.
“I must admit, I do find the ocean breeze does wonders for my soul. When I am out sailing in the deep blue, I find it exhilarating,” he replied.
“Have you travelled far from Spain?” she asked, interest evident in her voice.
He turned to face her. “Yes. Many times. I have ventured as far north as Denmark, but my travels have mostly taken me to England and occasionally France.”
She glanced at him. “I would love to see another land. To experience different people and their cultures.”
“Well, I hope you do. Some of my closest friends live in England, and I would never have met them if I hadn’t travelled,” he replied.
He received a soft smile in return for his words of encouragement. A spark lit in his brain. There was a kindness about her, a warmth that had Lisandro suddenly imagining himself wrapping her up in his arms and taking her home—to meet his mother.
Who are you? I must get to know you better.
Heavy footsteps sounded on the stone paving behind them. The woman stepped away from Lisandro. Her gaze fell on whomever was approaching and her smile instantly disappeared.
Lisandro turned and all sense of gaiety fled.
Storming toward them, hands balled tightly by his side, was Diego de Elizondo Garza, the son of his family’s enemy.
Mierda. Can’t you see I am trying to work my charms on this young woman?
“Don de Aguirre, if you don’t step away from my sister, I will kill you,” said Diego.
Sister? Oh no.
The young woman, her face a study in shock, looked from Diego to Lisandro.
“Lisandro de Aguirre? Duke of Tolosa?” she said.
Lisandro nodded. Before this unexpected interruption, he had been on the verge of making introductions. He pointed at Diego. “He is your brother, so that makes you . . .”
Those brown eyes which had held so much promise only a moment ago were solid granite when she met his gaze. “Maria de Elizondo Garza, daughter of the Duke of Villabona. I see I was gravely mistaken in thinking you were a polite and honorable gentleman wishing to make my acquaintance. How foolish of me.”
Sorry, Mamá. There goes that chance of fulfilling your wish for bebés.
Taking a quick step back, Lisandro gave a curt bow. “My apologies, I should have told you who I was sooner.” He turned on his heel and walked away. The last thing he wanted to do was to cause a scandal. Attempting to seek favor with the unwed daughter of his family’s worst enemy would certainly do that.
But Diego de Elizondo blocked his way back into the gathering. When Lisandro took one step to the side, intending to go around him, the young noble, his face set hard, mirrored his move.
Don’t do anything foolish Lisandro. You were talking to his sister; let him have his moment of indignation.
Diego was a good seven inches shorter than Lisandro, who stood at six-foot-four-inches in height. And while he may have only come up to Lisandro’s shoulder, he clearly made up for his lack of stature in temper. He stepped closer to Lisandro and pushed hard against his chest.
“What the devil were you doing near my sister?” he demanded.
“Nothing. I merely spoke to her. Believe me, if I had known who she was, I would not have done so,” replied Lisandro.
Anger flashed in Diego’s eyes, and he launched himself at Lisandro a second time. Lisandro took a deft step back, which had his attacker staggering as he touched only thin air. Lisandro determinedly held his composure.
Hot-headed fool. Why would you wish to start a fight at a royal wedding celebration?
Other guests began to file out from the palace, milling around the pair. Lisandro shook his head. Of course, people wanted to see a fight. The spectacle would give them plenty to talk about for the rest of the evening.
His gaze took in the quickly coalescing mob. He had seen this all too many times before and was not going to give anyone that sort of satisfaction—especially at his expense. You people couldn’t care less about either of our families. You just want to see blood spilt. Damn the lot of you.
“Diego de Elizondo, I apologize for any offence I may have caused to you, your sister or your family.” Lisandro spied a gap in the crowd and made his way toward it. Thankfully, Diego didn’t attempt to follow.
Lisandro didn’t want to fight anyone. He was more concerned with his bitter disappointment at discovering that the woman who had captured his attention tonight was someone he could never befriend, let alone form a relationship.
The only thing worse than being forced to attend a dull party was having made a fool of himself while trying to win over the daughter of his enemy.
As soon as the Duke of Tolosa had disappeared, Maria and Diego locked gazes.
Here we go.
She gritted her teeth, remaining silent while the other guests wandered back to the party. There was more than one grumble of disappointment about the lack of a brawl.
Her brother was furious. And since Lisandro de Aguirre had not given him the satisfaction of a public row, there was every chance that she would be next in Diego’s line of fire.
He didn’t disappoint.
“Why were you here on the terrace alone?”
“I wanted some fresh air. And to get away from the gossip. I have heard enough whispers of dissent about the king tonight to know that this is a dangerous place,” she replied.
“Yes, there are too many people here being indiscreet with their words. But coming out here without a chaperone was also a foolish thing to do. You cannot be seen speaking to Don de Aguirre. How do you think that will look to Count Delgado?” he asked.
Maria bit back a sharp retort. It seemed that everything she did lately was viewed through the lens of what Count Juan Delgado Grandes would think and the impact her actions might have on her bride price. The sooner the betrothal negotiations between her father and Don Delgado were concluded, the better.
“I didn’t know who he was until you arrived. But before then he was polite, and we engaged in a pleasant conversation. The ins
tant I discovered his identity, I made my position regarding him quite clear,” she replied.
“You must have known who he was!”
Maria shook her head. Until tonight, her only knowledge of the Duke of Tolosa was what she had been told by her parents and brother. “I have never met the man before. Other than not giving me his name, he didn’t actually do anything wrong. He even apologized for that oversight.”
Diego huffed. “Everything he did in coming near you was wrong. Maria, he is the enemy of our family!”
How many times had she heard the story of the century-old feud between the Aguirre and Elizondo clans? Maria was sure she could recite the whole thing word for word without pausing.
From the time she was able to understand, it had been instilled in her that the Duke of Tolosa was evil. In fact, anyone from the town of Tolosa was considered bad; even the priests were viewed with suspicion.
“I am well aware that Don de Aguirre is the devil incarnate. Should I have struck him with my fan? Would that have made you feel better?”
“Yes. You should have slapped his face with it,” replied Diego. A curt nod finally had Maria sighing with relief.
Diego. Always looking for a fight. “I am not in the habit of assaulting strange men who have done nothing more than make pleasant conversation,” she said.
Diego gave a tut of disapproval before offering Maria his arm. “Well, now that I have made my position clear, I think it best that you and I go back inside. We don’t want you catching a chill out here. And Padre will want you looking well-rested and fresh for tomorrow.”
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