by Tina Donahue
She gritted her teeth.
“I can also have Cook pack food for you. Along with a knife or dagger for protection. I may be too busy to assist you as I did the last time.”
Beatriz pulled back her shoulders. “I have no plans. I can clean your harem.”
His expression darkened.
She wasn’t about to take back what she’d said. The harem was his, not theirs. Not any longer.
“Excellent. Make certain the pools are dry and the silk is kept away from the sun.”
She knew how to protect fine fabrics. Her service here had also taught her how to clean and tend to other things. “Would you care to make a list for me, specifying your concerns?”
“A list? Wait. You can read.”
She wanted to slap him for pretending he’d forgotten. Holding back, she dug her nails into her palms.
“I can start on the list immediately.” He crossed the chamber and stopped at the doorway. “Are you sure you want to give up your day?”
“The villages will still be there next week and the next.”
He returned to her. For a moment, heat flared in his eyes, along with yearning she’d recalled.
He hid both quickly. “The items you need, a bucket, carpet beater, dust cloths, and more, will be in the chamber when you arrive tomorrow. The list will be in my top desk drawer within the hour. Garbine cleans my study at the same time you used to. If you want to avoid any questions or gossip, make certain not to run into her.”
He left.
* * * *
Tomás tensed with such need he could scarcely draw a breath. He couldn’t recall his shoulders ever hurting more. His fists ached from clenching them.
In his determination to wear Beatriz down, he was killing himself.
He sank into the chair in his study, head in his hands.
The only thing he’d accomplished thus far was to stop her from seeking work at a village and leaving here. Of course, the communities would still be there in the following weeks, months, and years. He wasn’t certain he could think of enough tasks for her to do to keep her away from them and close to him.
Pity he wasn’t a sultan. If she’d been his concubine, he would have stripped her bare, shackled her to a bed, and mounted her without pause. She’d never get away from him. He’d own her mouth, breasts, and sheath, but not her willingness or her heart.
He ground his fists into his eyes.
Without her ready consent and love, physical intimacy meant nothing. In the past, he’d used other women for relief the same as they’d done with him. A pleasant affair, but those acts had never come close to the moments he and Beatriz had known.
“Why do you fight me?” He pushed his fingers through his hair. “What are you so afraid of?”
She claimed to want freedom and an end to everything they’d been, yet when he complied, treating her as he would any other servant, Beatriz seemed heartsore. She kept sneaking glances at him when he failed to acknowledge her presence. Her expression was always forlorn when she wasn’t aware he was nearby, watching. She’d beat the poor rugs ruthlessly, in what he guessed was an effort to get his attention. If she kept that up, she’d hurt herself or put a hole in the fabrics.
He wanted to talk to her again, man to woman, lover to loved, but sensed she’d only pull away. The only option he could see was to be around her frequently, tempting her until she couldn’t refuse what they both wanted, and she became a part of his life once more.
* * * *
The following morning, Beatriz slipped Tomás’s list in her sleeve and joined the other servants in the kitchen for breakfast. Her last excursion away from the castle had taught her not to leave without a full belly. Apparently, she should have also taken a knife for protection.
He must have considered her a hopeless fool, not even knowing how to do her work. His list was endless, detailing everything as one would for an imbecile too stupid to figure out how to fold silk, beat mattresses, empty water.
The tasks wouldn’t be easy on her clothes. Her mended sleeve might rip again today. However, she hadn’t wanted to wear livery and have the other servants asking why she was working on her day off or where the task might be.
Yolanda finished her milk, leaving a white mustache on her upper lip. “Have any plans for today?”
Beatriz smiled. “The workers planted new flowers. I may walk among them or explore the grounds.”
Although her comment seemed casual, she’d chosen her words carefully. If anyone spied her crossing the lawn to the harem, that person wouldn’t question her movements.
Yolanda grabbed three figs and an orange. “I must be off. Enjoy your day.”
“You too.”
The other servants chatted amongst themselves, not deliberately excluding Beatriz, but they’d never grown close to her, either. They seemed to know she was different than they were. Not as open, lying constantly about her past, steering converse back to them rather than having to share anything regarding herself.
Her actions made for a lonely existence, except for dear Yolanda. However, Beatriz saw no other choice.
Once she’d filled her belly, she asked Cook’s permission to take enough food for her next meal. Gaining the woman’s approval, Beatriz wrapped three oranges, several slices of bread and pork, a mound of olives, and a large cheese wedge.
Cook eyed the feast. “You get so hungry simply walking around?”
Hauling water from the pools would probably make her ravenous in no time. “This should be all I need until tomorrow morning.”
“Off with you then.”
The sun hadn’t yet dried the grass. Dew dampened Beatriz’s skirt. On a whim, she slipped off her shoes and stockings and held them to her chest with the fare she’d packed. The lawn was deliciously cool beneath her toes.
She wanted to linger but couldn’t, glancing over her shoulder repeatedly. To her relief, no one was behind her or in front. For the most part, the sky was clear, though there were a few smeared clouds in the distance. Birds flew past the sun, the light turning their bodies to dark outlines.
In times past, the Moor’s women might have seen sights like this, if they ever ventured farther than the harem and courtyard. How sad if they hadn’t. They would have known luxury but had never actually lived, imprisoned for carnal use, having to share a man they might have come to love.
Beatriz couldn’t have stomached being here if Tomás wooed and claimed another woman. She should have gone to the village today, rather than dragging out her departure. If she delayed too long, she’d eventually be standing in line with the other servants, waiting to greet his new wife, trying not to wince at the smile he gave the woman, the love he showed.
She reached the hidden door, heart aching at what she could have had with him but lost because of her papá. Even without her father being at the castle, he’d killed her future so easily.
She retraced her steps from the other visits she’d made and stood in the chamber, picturing Tomás taking her here on their wedding night, them using this place not for its grandeur, but as a sanctuary against the outside world. Here, they could be themselves, him hating anything to do with running an estate, her unafraid to proclaim her love.
Even though she was no more than his servant now, she’d want him until her dying breath.
The bucket, carpet beater, and other tools lay to the side. She read his list, another memento she meant to keep, and saw to the silk first. She beat the mattresses as well as those she’d tended in the castle, getting through only half before she stopped, tired and sweaty. Heated air and sun poured into the room. Hours gone already.
She slumped. At this rate, she wouldn’t finish until tomorrow morning.
Her stomach growled repeatedly. Ignoring her fare, she kept to her task, finishing the other mattresses by the time the sun had passed the highest point in the sky and had started its descent.
Unable to continue without food and rest, she sat w
ith her legs in the stone pool, eating her meal, pushing the floating leaves aside with her feet. If Tomás had been here, they might have made this a game, seeing who could push the leaves fastest to the far end. They’d battle in earnest, laugh themselves silly no matter who had won, then embrace, kiss, and make love.
She covered her eyes, fighting tears. Her throat was so tight she could barely swallow the cheese. A sob caught in her throat. She waved her hands in front of her face, pushing sadness away. There was too much work for her to sit here and weep about losing him.
Sniffing, she put her remaining food to the side. She pushed up her sleeves, filled a bucket to drain the pools, and dumped the water in the courtyard as Tomás’s instructions had ordered. After her tenth trip, her arms and back ached. She eyed the mattresses longingly, wanting a brief nap, but continued.
By the time she’d finished with the pools, the sun cast long shadows. Slumped against a column, she pushed her sleeves down and froze, not feeling her orange peel.
She checked inside her sleeve past her elbow but couldn’t find the rind she’d carried for weeks as a keepsake.
She slipped her hand between the silk sheets, lugged the mattresses away from each other, and stood in the stone pools to check the damp corners.
The rind was inexplicably gone.
She’d lost everything and now she didn’t even have the memento to comfort her when Tomás would be nothing more than a wonderful memory, wed to another.
She checked the mattresses and silk a second time, then ran into chambers she’d never been in.
Hands fisted, she cried, “Where are you?”
Squatting, she searched crevices in the latticework screens, knowing how foolish she was behaving but couldn’t stop. She’d asked for so little, wanting only to keep a memory of the most wondrous day she’d ever known.
No matter where she looked, the orange peel remained elusive.
At last, she tore out to the courtyard where she’d dumped the water. Puddles covered the ground, the sun so low rays no longer shone within the space. On her knees, she searched bushes, flowers, grass, and mud.
* * * *
Tomás strode across the grounds, unable to wait any longer for Beatriz’s return. She should have come back well before now. The sun had nearly set.
He’d left the oil lamp in the harem, but no means for her to light the thing. He’d only used the lamp on the day they’d first coupled to strike a sensual mood, giving her a taste of a Moor’s territory. When the sun was up, the hall to the chambers was easy to navigate. In the darkness though… She couldn’t be working by moonlight.
Using another oil lamp, he reached the wooden door and slipped inside. “Beatriz.”
Nothing.
Uneasy, he ran down the hall, praying she hadn’t fallen into the water. “Beatriz!”
He stopped at the stone depressions, both empty, mattresses stacked to the side, the silk piled next to them. Ready to call her name once more, Tomás lifted the lamp.
She knelt in the courtyard, head down.
He put the lamp on the floor and raced to her. “What happened? Did you hurt yourself?”
She lifted her face, her cheeks damp with tears that glistened in the waning light. “I lost it.”
“What?”
She trembled. “It was all I had of our day here.”
He touched her shoulder. “What do you mean? Tell me and I can help you look for whatever you lost.”
“The orange peel! You forgot to put it in the basket before we left. I came back and found it.” Her mouth trembled. “So little to ask for when I lost you. I only wanted…”
He gathered her close. “You never lost me.”
“I have.” She gripped his shoulders, tears rolling down her cheeks.
He helped her to her feet and swept her into his arms. She clung to him as though drowning. They both were without each other. Their separation had to end.
Back in the chamber, he lowered Beatriz to her feet and put a mattress on a platform. “Lie down.”
“No. I have to look for the peel.”
“We will later, I promise.” He pulled her down to the mattress.
She threw her arms around him, her kisses hungry. They fell back, tearing at each other’s clothes, trying to keep their mouths together. Soon, they lay on the mattress naked, Tomás between her legs. He mounted her quickly, thrusting deep.
She captured his mouth.
Given their savage passion, one would have thought decades, rather than weeks, had separated them. He couldn’t get deep enough inside her to quell his desire. She couldn’t seem to sate her hunger for his mouth. They rocked in time, breaths mingled, joyous cries combined to make one glorious sound.
Panting, he rolled over until she was on top, her weight and heat comforting him.
He fought sleep, fearing she’d disappear if he closed his eyes. He didn’t think he could survive another estrangement from her. “We have to settle this. I refuse to go back to these past days. What of you?”
She tightened her hold. “I feel the same.”
He lifted her chin so she’d have to look at him. In the faint light, she was a mixture of golden skin and dark hair, a creature of passion, the loveliest woman he’d ever known. “Tell me precisely what you mean. I want to hear the words.”
He needed Beatriz to declare her love and promise to be his wife.
She looked so solemn he grew uneasy.
“Do you intend to leave the castle because we had each other again?” His skin prickled. “Do you intend never to see me again?”
“I want to be with you. God help me, I have to…though not as your wife.”
“You want us to remain friends? What happens when you conceive?”
“I would do the very best for our child.”
“On your own?” Everything was slipping away again, and so quickly, he couldn’t keep up. “Without me?”
“Our son or daughter would bear your name. I would keep your memory alive. I would never want anything else.”
He couldn’t believe she’d actually said what she had. “You expect me to allow you to take our child away?”
“We could stay here until the time came for us to leave.”
“When would that be?”
“When you wed.”
“You expect me to wed someone else when I love you and to let you take our son or daughter from me?”
“You would always be a part of our child’s life, if you wanted to do so. You and I could still see each other.”
“Have you gone mad? How?”
“I would be your mistress.”
Chapter 10
Tomás rolled them over until she was beneath him. He left the mattress and backed away. “No. Never. How dare you suggest such a thing.”
“This is the only way.” Leaving him forever wasn’t possible any longer. She’d have to share him with another woman in order to have him in her life at all.
“You have gone mad.” He threw up his hands. “You expect us to live in the shadows, hiding. From what? Why? Because of your station? Position means nothing to me. I want you as my wife, not my mistress.”
Beatriz wanted the same, but their desire didn’t matter, a future together wasn’t possible. She reached for him. “I love you. I will never want another.”
His outrage changed to yearning. He sank to one knee by the mattress and pressed his lips to her knuckles.
A tear ran down her cheek. “Please say you agree.”
“No. How can you even ask?” An anguished sound rushed from him. “Why are you doing this to us? Tell me. We can solve anything provided I know the truth.”
If he did, their time together would end. “I want no man to rule me. This way, I can be free and you can too.”
He released her hand. “Except for my ties to my future wife. Have you forgotten her?”
She’d have to push her feelings aside, never wanting to know if
the other woman was pretty or plain, whether her voice was sweet, how she and Tomás behaved together. Whether they touched freely, smiled, and became lost in each other’s gazes.
Beatriz wanted to die, but pulled herself together. She had no other choice. “Many in the kingdom have loveless marriages with the husbands and wives seeking pleasure elsewhere.”
“How true. But what if I fall in love with my wife? What then?”
She’d never recover. She lowered her face, hiding her torment. “I would have your child or children to remember you.”
“You would also have your precious freedom.” He stood. “Put on your clothes. We need to quit this place.”
She couldn’t move.
He yanked on his shirt and reached for his braies. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Please reconsider.”
“No. Never mention such a vile thing to me again, understand? From this day forward, you and I are nothing to each other. Without marriage, you will never have my love or my child. Get dressed. Now.”
She forced back tears. Her hands shook so badly she could barely manage to pull on her clothes or work her laces. Tomás didn’t offer to help. He fetched the oil lamp and remained away, waiting for her.
Once she’d finished, he led the way from the harem and across the grounds.
She held back. “Wait. My clothes are muddy. My hair…” During their passion, he’d loosened her braid. The breeze blew tendrils across her cheeks and forehead.
He stopped finally, his hair ashy in the moonlight, the locks and his shirt quivering in the light wind. He returned to her. “If anyone notices how you look, tell them you became lost in the darkness and fell. I heard your cries for help. Let them think what they will.” He proceeded to the castle.
Beatriz had to run to keep up.
* * * *
Tomás was finished with her. He had to stop this madness now. Beatriz thought so little of him she was willing to share him with another woman in order to retain her precious freedom.
So be it. Never again would he offer her his heart, nor did he want to see her every day to remind him how foolish he’d been. He hated this estate and the endless, boring tasks. He wanted to fight again for Spain. Die for his country if need be.
