Devoted to the Spanish Duke

by Sasha Cottman

  They headed for the stairs and slowly made their way down to the ground floor and out into the rear yard. Within minutes, they had Maria safely on board the coach and were on their way to Gracechurch Street.

  Lisandro held her in his arms; between now and when he finally handed Maria back to her family, he intended to keep her with him at all times.

  No one said a word. They had rescued Maria, but three men lay dead in the house at number nine Queen Anne Street. Any notion of celebrations was muted in light of those deaths.

  They were close to St Paul’s Cathedral when Maria finally stirred from her drug-induced slumber and stared up at him. Her eyes were glazed. “Please let me go,” she pleaded, her voice slurred.

  Lisandro brushed her hair back from her face and whispered softly, “Estas seguro conmigo.”

  She shook her head. “How can I be safe with you when you have stolen me from my family?”

  “Maria, it’s Lisandro de Aguirre. I have you and I will protect you.”

  She raised a hand and gave him a feeble punch on the arm. “You kidnapped me. You dirty lowborn bastardo.” And with that, her eyes rolled back in her head and she slipped into unconsciousness once more.

  Stephen chuckled at him from across the carriage. “Oh dear, there goes any hope you might have had for her thinking you were a hero.”

  Lisandro took in the sleeping form of the woman he had just rescued.

  It was going to be a long and difficult journey home.

  Chapter Eleven

  Maria woke to real sunshine. There were no curtains blocking out the light—nor was there a foul-mouthed Englishwoman demanding that she rise and shine.

  Her head pounded, but she had become accustomed to the daily hangover from the drugs. Her fingers reached out and touched soft, warm blankets. She was sleeping beneath clean sheets.

  Is this a dream?

  She was surely back home, waking in her bed. Any minute now her maid would come knocking on the door and ask if she wished to take her early morning coffee out on the terrace.

  The crackle of wood burning had Maria rolling over onto her side. In a nearby fireplace burned a bright, inviting flame. She focused on the fire surround. It wasn’t like any of the stone ones at Castle Villabona. This one was wooden.

  Where am I?

  She slowly sat up her head still woozy.

  “Oh,” she sighed.

  She took in her surroundings. Sometime during the night, she’d been moved yet again. But why? Has the ransom been paid? Am I going home? Or are they going to kill me?

  The small but functional fire sat to one side of a solitary window. The windowpane itself was plain glass, but from the amount of dirt which clung to the outside of it, she doubted anyone could see in. The whole place had a barely clean feel about it.

  She glanced to the other side of the room. A chair. A table. A man slumped asleep on a tatty old leather sofa.

  Maria scowled. Is that the Duke of Tolosa? I think it is. Why is he here?

  Hazy memories of a darkened coach and being carried over his shoulder swam into her mind. Of course! He must have been the one who had masterminded her kidnapping. Her family’s sworn enemy had snatched her from the beach in Zarautz and stolen her away to England.

  She leapt out of bed, frantically seeking something large and heavy with which to bludgeon him. Maria swore under her breath. There wasn’t even a poker by the fire that she could use as a weapon.

  A quick check of the door revealed it to be locked.

  Of course, it’s locked. He might be evil, but he isn’t stupid.

  She considered the sleeping form of Lisandro de Aguirre. His ruffled dark hair, that stubble which had stirred her secret desires the night of the ball. Why did such a terrible man have to be so damn handsome? In all the folktales, only misshapen and outright ugly ogres were unkind and cruel.

  Then her gaze settled on Lisandro’s coat pocket and the key ring which was sticking out an inch. Her mouth went dry. Could she do it? Steal the key and make good on her escape? There may well be other men just outside the door, but she had to risk it.

  Taking a deep breath to settle her nerves, Maria inched one step toward him. Then another. At the fourth step, a loose floorboard creaked, and she froze. Her gaze remained on him, watching for any sign that he might stir from sleep. He didn’t move a muscle. His slow, even breaths continued.

  Thank god.

  Bending, she hooked the tip of two fingers under the ring of keys and then gently pulled. The keys shifted.

  I can do this.

  The next tug had them almost free of his coat.

  A large male hand grabbed a firm hold of her wrist. “You need to work harder at your pickpocketing skills if you are to make a living as a light-fingered thief,” he said.

  Maria tried to pull away, but Lisandro held fast. Swinging his legs over the side of the sofa, he sat up. “Now I am going to release you from my hold, and you are going to take a step back. Is that clear?” he said.

  She nodded.

  Lisandro let go of Maria’s wrist. She did take a step back.

  And then she launched herself at him. “Te odio, perro sucio!”

  The first slap landed perfectly on his cheek. She followed it up with a solid punch in the middle of his face which had her hand exploding in pain. “Oh!” she cried.

  He rose from the sofa, blood pouring from his nose. He quickly pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket. Maria reached for it, thinking he was about to offer it so she could wrap it around her injured hand; instead, he held it to his face.

  “You beat me, call me a dog, and then expect me to be a gentleman?” he said.

  There was a rattle and jangle of keys at the door, and it flew open. Two men burst into the room.

  “What the devil is going on?” asked the first, his accent marking him clearly as an Englishman.

  The second took one look at Lisandro and quickly put a hand over his mouth. Maria frowned at the mirth which danced in his eyes. What sort of man would find any of this amusing?

  She backed away as far as she could from them. This morning was the first time she had woken feeling semi-clear in her mind. That clarity of thinking, however, was a double- edged sword. It left room for fear.

  Who were these other men, and what role did they play in the Duke of Tolosa’s evil scheme?

  Tears pricked at Maria’s eyes as the weight of her circumstances settled heavily on her shoulders. Her kidnappers had revealed themselves—and with that came the deep worry of why they were no longer concealing their identities.

  “Please. My father has money. He will pay whatever ransom you ask,” she said.

  Lisandro removed the cloth from his face. The bleeding appeared to have subsided.

  “Doña Maria, we are not your kidnappers. Last night, we raided the house in Queen Anne Street and rescued you,” he said.

  Rescued?

  She shook her head. It was an unlikely story. How could she believe him?

  “Then why is it that you, my family’s enemy, is here? Don’t tell me you just happened to be in London. Don de Aguirre, I don’t believe in coincidences,” she replied.

  She and Lisandro locked gazes and Maria stared him down, determined to show that she was not afraid.

  The look on his face oddly appeared to be more one of concern than anger. His brow knitted tightly.

  The tall man who had been first through the door dipped into a low bow, startling her. “I am Sir Stephen Moore, Doña Maria. Lisandro here is telling the truth. We killed three men last night in order to secure your release. No one here is going to hurt you.”

  Her gaze drifted to the other man. He bowed his head. “I am Lord Harry Steele. My father is the Duke of Redditch. I might be many things, but a kidnapper of defenseless women is not one of them. My wife wouldn’t allow it.”

  He nodded at Lisandro and slyly grinned. “Though from the mess that is my friend’s face, I would suggest perhaps that you are not entirely unable to defen
d yourself.”

  Maria’s fingers curled tightly into balls. She wanted so very much to believe them. That she was no longer in danger and might finally be going home.

  Lisandro reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and took out a gold chain.

  “My Santiago medallion!” she cried.

  But how could he have come by it? I left it at the villa.

  Her knees went from under her and she collapsed onto the floor, tears streaming down her face.

  Lisandro bent and pressed the necklace into her palm. “Gentlemen, could you please give Doña Maria and I a moment alone?”

  He dropped down in front of Maria and wrapped his strong arms around her.

  Please, Lord, let this be real. Let this man be all that he says he is.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Lisandro began to softly stroke her hair, Maria lay her head against his chest. The warm comfort of his embrace was too much to resist.

  “Here, let me help you.” He gestured to the necklace.

  She sat back on her heels, and he took it and slipped it over her head. With a sobbed sigh, Maria lay her fingers against the medallion. I was a fool to take it off. I will never do that again.

  “Did my father give this to you?” she asked.

  He brushed away her tears with the pad of his thumb. Shivers thrilled down her spine at his tender regard. “No. Diego did. He doesn’t think your father would have ever agreed to let me help with your rescue. I can understand why. With the feud between our families, his honor would not permit it.”

  The fact that Diego had sought assistance from the Duke of Tolosa still didn’t make sense. From the little that she did know of him, Lisandro was nothing more than a well-heeled farmer. And while he had reputedly helped return King Ferdinand to the Spanish throne, he had only been one of many people in that fight.

  Why, then, had her brother gone to Lisandro in his hour of need?

  After helping Maria to her feet, Lisandro stepped toward the door. She took hold of the sleeve of his coat. “Don de Aguirre. Forgive me for attacking you. And also, for calling you such dreadful names.”

  To her surprise, he laid his hand on hers and gave it a gentle pat. When their gazes met, she caught the hint of a smile on his face.

  “I should have been on my guard. As I recall, when you realized who I was that night at the ball, you were more than a little disgusted,” he replied.

  Maria winced, remembering her haughty treatment of him.

  His lips spread into a grin. “Come, let’s get a spot of food and coffee into you, Doña Maria. I expect you would appreciate eating a hearty breakfast while knowing that it has not been drugged.”

  He reached for the door handle, but once again, she was reluctant to leave the room. To break this private moment. “Don de Aguirre, you have saved me. And as much as it might disappoint my father, that makes you my friend. Friends call me Maria,” she said.

  His whole face softened, and tears threatened her once more. “Maria,” he said. “And if we are friends, then I am Lisandro.”

  With an unexpected lump in her throat, Maria followed Lisandro out of the room. They were friends. For now.

  But the time may come when they went back to being enemies.

  Chapter Thirteen

  He was surprised at how much English Maria could speak. Lisandro had been expecting to play translator for her, but not long after she’d taken a seat at the long, well-worn dining table, she was holding her own in a conversation with Augustus Jones.

  “I love the coast along the Cantabrian Sea; it so beautiful. And, of course, your delightful village of Villabona. The wines in that part of Spain are magnificent,” he said.

  Gus placed a hand on Maria’s arm, and Harry gave Lisandro a look. Augustus Trajan Jones had a silver tongue to rival even Casanova. His list of female admirers was long and illustrious.

  Lisandro and Harry were standing side by side next to the fire, warming themselves. It might have been autumn in England, but it was much colder than Spain. Why anyone voluntarily lived in this chilly country was beyond him.

  Harry’s wife, Alice, had kindly provided Maria with a fashionable warm gown and shawl, along with woolen stockings and a small case containing ribbons and a hairbrush. Lisandro was pleased to know that people who had never even met Maria were still keen to make her feel cared for and comfortable.

  The door to the main room opened and Stephen stepped through, followed by young Toby. The boy always seemed to be trailing close behind his guardian. They quickly started clearing plates and cups away.

  When the table was free of breakfast dishes, Stephen turned to his young protégé. “Toby, make your introductions,” he said.

  The boy slipped the cap from his head and came to stand in front of where Maria sat. He bowed low. Lisandro turned away, stifling a laugh as Toby counted to three a little too loudly before standing upright.

  “Do . . .” Toby faltered, then glanced at Stephen. A patch of red appeared on each of his cheeks.

  “Doña Maria. Remember to curl your tongue like we practiced,” said Stephen.

  Toby tried again. “Don . . . ia Mari . . . a. I am Toby,” he said.

  A smiling, Maria held out her hand. “It is an honor to meet you, Toby. I understand you played an important part in my rescue last night.”

  The boy’s eyes went wide, as did his smile. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “I saw you throw the food out the window. And I watched the dog eat it and fall asleep. I was the one who found you.”

  Maria beckoned him forward. She kissed him softly on the cheek. “You did a wonderful job, Toby. I cannot begin to thank you enough for being so brave. When I get back to Spain, I promise to send you a reward.”

  He immediately shook his head. “No. Your rescue was enough, Doña Maria.”

  She glanced over at Lisandro, a questioning expression on her face.

  “Sir Stephen is teaching Toby to be a gentleman. And a good man does not always seek payment for his gallant deeds,” he explained.

  Toby shifted uneasily on his feet once more. His constant fidgeting was evidence that he would rather be anywhere else than there. Stephen placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Go and have some breakfast. And when you are finished, make sure you take some nice crispy bacon down to your new dog. Off you go. Good lad.”

  The boy let out an audible sigh of relief and headed toward the kitchen.

  When he was gone, Maria turned to Stephen. “Is he your son?”

  “No. When I went to finalize my late father’s personal matters a little while ago, I found Toby at the old estate. I brought him back to London with me,” replied Stephen.

  By-blows and bastards were not the sort of thing one discussed in front of a gently bred noblewoman. There were enough familiar features shared between Toby and Stephen for Lisandro to have come to the conclusion that they were likely half-brothers. From what he had discerned of Maria, she was no fool, and would probably also put two and two together.

  Stephen pulled up a chair and took his place at the head of the table. Harry and Lisandro moved away from the fire. While Harry sat on the opposite side of him, Lisandro seated himself next to Maria.

  “Now, we know the three in the house are dead. What we don’t know is if there is anyone else in London who was directly involved in the kidnapping,” Lisandro said.

  Maria sat forward. “What about the woman? The one who used to feed me.”

  Harry cleared his throat. “She received a visit from me late last night, and I took her back to the house in Queen Anne Street. Suffice to say, after having seen her accomplices, she decided to leave town and visit family in the country. I don’t expect she will return any time soon.”

  Maria’s cheeks went a horrible gray. Lisandro shot Harry a disapproving look. Did you really need to tell her that? I am sure death is not the sort of thing she is used to discussing over her morning coffee.

  “Good. She should be grateful you didn’t shoot her
as well. I would have—given half the chance,” replied Maria. She met Lisandro’s gaze, and he was the one to blink. Maria de Elizondo was fast changing his opinion of her. Perhaps she hadn’t lived such a sheltered life after all. “Lisandro, you are mistaken if you think I have not seen violence. Or that my life has not been without tragedy.”

  To his ever-growing worry, she then turned her attention to Gus. “Mister Jones, I take it your trips to Spain over the years were not simply to take in the vista. I know the English were heavily involved in my country during the war, and I don’t just mean in the battles of the Peninsular conflict. May I be frank with you?”

  A clearly uncomfortable Gus gave a nod.

  “Did you and your friends act as spies? Agents of the British Crown?”

  “Hmm. I don’t think I can in all honesty tell you too much of what we did during the war against Napoleon.” He glanced toward Lisandro. “And when I say we, I include the Duke of Tolosa in that group.”

  Maria barely flinched at the revelation, giving Lisandro even more cause for concern. How much did this woman know about his wartime activities?

  “Perhaps Maria and I could discuss Spanish domestic politics at another time,” he ventured. Please take the hint. This is dangerous ground you are treading on, Maria.

  She gifted him with a smile. “Of course.”

  A collective sigh rippled around the gathering. When Gus produced a satchel from under the table and began to pull out various pieces of paper, the knot of tension in Lisandro’s neck lessened.

  “Since we don’t know who else is involved in this kidnapping, I think it is too risky to bring my yacht up the Thames. There may well be people in London, dangerous people, who are on the lookout for any sign of Maria being taken out of England. My recommendation is that the boat sails from its usual port of Portsmouth instead,” said Gus.