by Tina Donahue
“No man has ever treated me with as much respect or tenderness, certainly not my father.”
“He beat you?”
Worse. “He ruled my life as though I were his property to do with as he willed, not a woman with a mind of my own or even a daughter who wanted his consideration.” She shifted slightly in the tub. Water splashed over the side. “Gaining his love was out of the question.”
“Why?”
“My mother and I were always tools for him to further his ends. He wants nothing more than to walk among nobles and royals. As a commoner, he had no way except through wealth. He met my mother by working for her father, a prosperous merchant who owned the company my papá now calls his.”
“He stole the business from your grandfather?”
“He wed my mother and controlled the business through her. From what my mother told me, my grandfather was a sweet man, wanting naught expect her happiness. He enjoyed the way my father took care of her in the early days, how devoted he seemed. After Grandpapá died, my father had full say in the operations. Until then, my mother had believed he’d married her for love. Mamá soon found out what his intent had been from the start.”
Beatriz had found her mother’s journal after her death. How eager she’d been to read a portion, hoping the words would ease her sorrow and loneliness. Fear built first, then rage at her father’s depravity. What he could do and had done to others.
Tomás searched her face. “He had mistresses?”
“No. Papá has no time or desire for passion. He craves wealth and power. The only way he could get what he wanted was through Mamá. She was quite beautiful.”
“Was?”
She cleared her throat, anger and sadness warring within her at what her mother had endured. How much her father had taken from them. “She died when I was fourteen. Everyone thought the fever had killed her, but he had. She couldn’t lie with the nobles any longer, humiliating herself to bring him what he wanted.”
“Wait.” Tomás took her hand. “Your father allowed your mother to couple with other men?”
“He arranged the encounters. As I said, she was quite beautiful. Many men wanted her. Papá encouraged the acts, especially the basest and most demeaning. The kind no woman would agree to willingly unless threatened or she needed money to eat. As long as the nobles did business with his company and allowed him to become a part of their world, letting him use their power for his own ends, he turned her over to them willingly.”
Tomás’s face paled. “How can that be? She had no chance to refuse?”
The journal entries proved she hadn’t. Beatriz would never forget her mother’s anguish and finally her losing the will to live. “In the beginning she did tell him no, repelled at the thought of what he’d demanded, even threatening to leave. He promised to impoverish her and take me away. Mamá feared for my safety.
“When she conceived again, she fell and lost the child. As I grew older, I wondered if she did so deliberately to spare the poor soul the life we had, him as a father. The physician said there would be no more children for her. Papá was enraged. I suspect he wanted her to become pregnant with a noble’s child so he could secure his hold even more, threatening the man with scandal if he failed to give Papá everything he wanted.”
“What of your mamá? How could any man do such a thing?”
“I doubt he thought of her at all. She was nothing more than an instrument to him. Unless he needed her for something, he barely looked her way. If she failed to behave precisely as he expected, he raged at her, threatening to harm me.”
Tomás squeezed her hand. “Did he ever follow through?”
“No. I was valuable property in his eyes. Scars from beatings would have lessened my ability to attract a noble husband for him to use for his own ends.”
“Larnaz.”
“Sadly, yes. I fear Papá has met his match finally. Don Larnaz is as contemptible as he is. A man who beats women to cow them or because he enjoys their pain. A noble without funds given his lifestyle. I heard he likes to wager and uses the most expensive whores. Wedding me would give him access to my father’s wealth. My marriage to him would secure Papá’s place with the nobility. Not as a mere merchant or a man who handed his beautiful wife over, but as the father-in-law of a marquis.”
“How dare he trade you for access.”
Beatriz kissed his knuckles, loving his outrage, the same as hers. In many ways, they were similar, not caring about station or wealth, wanting only happiness. “I had no idea he had even promised me to the man until the three of us shared a meal one night. I thought Don Larnaz was simply a business acquaintance until he told me where we would travel after the wedding, what he expected of me as his wife.
“I couldn’t comprehend what he said. As you saw tonight, the man is old enough to be my grandfather, fat, ugly, and unpleasant in every way. After he told me my duties, he and my father discussed other matters as if I no longer existed. When I spoke up finally and refused to wed him, Papá said I had no choice in the matter, never had, and would go through with the nuptials whether I wanted to or not.”
Beatriz shuddered. “Since Mamá had married him for love, I hoped he would grant me the same grace or some say in the matter. How foolish I was. For centuries, noble families have forced their children to marry those they neither knew nor loved because of political considerations. Why would a wealthy merchant feel any different when he had a daughter, or rather his property, to trade for a title?”
“Not you. He can have as much access to the nobility as he wants through my brothers and me. I know Enrique will help. Sancha, his wife, is the daughter of a grandee and a duke. Her father had many friends and connections at court before he died. My papá can introduce yours to even more.”
She sickened at anyone using Tomás and his family in such a way. “What if your offer doesn’t satisfy him? You heard Don Larnaz. My father wants a marquis, and Don Larnaz wants wealth.”
Tomás wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “No one can force you to wed the pig.”
“Are you certain? Should we run as I had? With you beside me, I should fare better than I had the last time. I nearly starved before I came upon your land. Señora Cisneros only hired me out of pity.”
“I intend to reward her greatly for helping you.”
Beatriz wasn’t certain whether to laugh or cry.
“Neither of us runs.” He kissed her cheek. “We wed as quickly as we can. I can ask Enrique and Fernando what to do. They each faced problems before marrying their esposas.”
“The same as ours?”
“Different, though equally troubling. Nothing will keep us from each other. Have you forgotten we already consummated our union?” He grinned. “Numerous times, in fact.”
She traced his mouth with her thumb. “My papá’s money, not my purity, matters most to Don Larnaz. Allowing me to raise your child in order to have the wealth is a small matter for him.”
“He has no choice except to give up or battle me, I promise you.”
Chapter 11
No one would ever take her from him. Tomás would lie, cheat, or kill, if necessary, to keep her at his side.
He touched his mouth to hers. “Time for you to relax as I tend to you.”
Their lips brushed each other’s with his words, their breaths blending to become one. He dipped a sponge into the warm water. Its scent reminded him of a spring morning. “Give me your arm.”
“Is that all you want of me?”
He smiled at her teasing. “For the moment.”
She extended her arm to him, palm up.
Her damaged skin pained him. He cursed himself for having put her through any hardship. From this moment forward, she’d know only leisure and joy at his hands. He squeezed the sponge gently, drizzling water over her blisters.
She held her breath.
He stopped. “Does your skin sting?”
“Only a little.”
Beatriz relaxed again, her shoulders drooping.
He ran the sponge over her arm, washing away the day’s grime and, he hoped, its bad memories of them arguing, him saying they were finished with each other. What a fool he’d been. If Larnaz hadn’t come here tonight, Tomás suspected he would have tried to find another way to convince her to be his.
He drew the sponge over her cheeks, removing dirt and dried tears. He’d never forget Beatriz on her knees in the harem courtyard, head bowed, weeping because she couldn’t find an orange peel.
Tomorrow, he’d locate the thing if he had to crawl over the entire yard and chambers inch by inch. Most other women would have wanted pearls, emeralds, rubies, and diamonds. She wanted him. He needed to witness her delight when he returned her lost treasure.
He stepped to the far end of the tub and lifted her foot to wash her toes.
Laughing, she tipped back her head, exposing her creamy throat.
He fell more in love with her. “Am I tickling you?”
“Sí. Ah.” She exhaled loudly. “Feels good.”
He’d run the sponge up her calf to the silky skin behind her knee. Her arms slid over the rim, hands dangling above the floor, lids heavy, lips parted on a prolonged sigh.
Exactly as he wanted her. “Are you falling asleep?”
“Relaxing. In all my days, I have never had a bath like this.”
She’d better not. This task belonged to him from here on out. They’d wash each other in the harem pools and make love in the courtyard beneath a heavy sun or star-splashed sky, spending their time cloistered from the world, Beatriz rejecting clothes, her sumptuous nudity tempting him as sultans demanded from their odalisques.
Those men knew how to set a mood.
For the moment, this tub and the candles would have to suffice. The flickering light bathed the room in a rosy glow, wrapping them in intimacy.
He unbraided the rest of her hair, running his fingers through the locks to untangle them. She moaned delicately. The silky mass tested his control. He longed to press his face to her mane, shower her with kisses, touch every part of her, claiming what was now his and would be for all time.
He trembled from desire so intense the feeling was painful yet welcomed.
Using a pitcher, he poured water over her tresses. He eased stray curls from her cheeks and forehead, then rubbed her scalp lightly.
She made a breathy sound.
He leaned over. There was naught but pleasure and peace on her face. Although proud he’d pleased her, he couldn’t quell the mischief running so deep within him. “This displeases you?” He rubbed her scalp slowly. “Would you like me to stop?”
“Only if you want me to run you through.”
“Aha. You have a mean streak.” He grinned. “I like that.”
She giggled.
Tomás wanted her moaning in bliss. He kneaded her shoulders, easing away the tightness. She softened further beneath his touch. He cupped her breasts, thumbs grazing her nipples. The tips peaked instantly, the halos grew taut and bumpy.
She pressed her face to his sleeve, her breath warming him through the linen.
With his hand dipping lower, he skimmed her curly bush and waited for her reaction.
She parted her legs to him as much as the narrow tub allowed. He touched her cleft, plump and slippery with her juices, encouraging him to take her.
Heat raced through him, his stiffened shaft pressing against his clothes. Breathing and speech were difficult. “Have you had enough of your bath?”
“I have, though not of you.”
Good thing. They had a lifetime to share.
He helped her from the tub. Water streamed over her luscious curves to form puddles on the floor. The small pools reflected the candlelight, orange and gold splashes that resembled a fiery circle at her feet, creating a breathtaking image.
He scrubbed her dry with a towel, leaving her hair in disarray, skin flushed like a woman who’d been loved long and well. Just the beginning.
Tomás swept her into his arms.
She inhaled sharply and held on to him even after he’d lowered her to the mattress. “Stay with me.”
He ran his knuckles down her cheek. “Forever. However, you have to let go of me so I can take off my clothes.”
“Let me help.”
“I can see to the task far more quickly than you.”
“Proceed.”
He fairly tore off his garments and joined her on the mattress. She stroked his chest.
“No.” He cuffed her wrists.
“You need to take something else off before I can touch you?” She craned her neck to see more of him.
“I want you to relax.”
She fell back to the mattress. “In a bed with both of us naked? Are you serious, or is this more of your teasing?”
“I want to do all the work.”
“Where were you when I nearly killed myself in the harem?”
“I was here being a brute.” He rubbed his nose against hers, aroused by her clean scent, the rose trace left from the bathwater, her musk beneath. “Can you ever forgive me?”
“Depends on what you do in the coming moments.” She gave him a playful smile. “Proceed.”
He positioned her arms above her head and parted her legs.
She bent her knees and lifted her mound to him.
“No. Stay as you are. In fact, remain perfectly still.”
“You want me to play dead as most wives do?”
“You will never be most wives.” He planted his hands on either side of her and leaned down. “Do you honestly believe you could be with me?”
She flicked her gaze at his nudity. Arousal flooded her features. “You have me at a disadvantage.”
“Lucky you.”
She laughed.
He suckled the inside of her arm.
Moaning, she lifted herself, nipples grazing his chest, the curls between her legs brushing his rigid shaft.
He dug his fingers into the sheets in order to maintain some control. His only purpose tonight was giving her his best. She’d endured so much. Losing her beloved mamá, treated cruelly by her father, terrorized at having no choice except to spend her young life submitting to Larnaz. She deserved what little Tomás could provide. He would have given her the world if he’d had the power.
He kissed her lightly on the shoulder and dipped his tongue in the hollow of her throat.
She pressed closer.
He inched down her, his cheek against her breast, mouth claiming her nipple. The tip hardened, her velvety skin fueling his insatiable hunger for her.
He suppressed a growl, not wanting to alarm her or himself, his lust building to a dangerous level.
Her other breast beckoned him. He cupped the pale globe and feasted on the nipple, tonguing and suckling her scented flesh.
She ran her toes up his calf.
He trembled and rained kisses over her ribs and down her torso, circling her navel with his tongue. She made a contented sound. Still lower, he pressed his face into her dark thatch, pleased at the rose fragrance, entranced by her womanly scent. Musk that spoke of life, love, passion, need.
He slipped two fingers within her hot, tight sheath, imprisoning her with his touch. She stilled. He confined her further with his mouth, holding her nub with care between his teeth, licking her mercilessly.
She cried out, raw desire mingled with tender yearning.
Tomás wanted her breathless with release.
He worked his fingers in and out of her channel. Her moans grew louder. She dug her heels into the mattress and gripped her hair.
Surrendering to passion, he suckled her nub and used her sheath for his pleasure and hers.
Beatriz broke, shouting wildly with her release, seeming not to care if the servants heard. He certainly didn’t. This chamber belonged to her an
d to him. No one would dare come inside.
He slipped his fingers from her pulsing channel and filled her with his shaft instead.
She moaned wantonly.
He smiled at his sex sliding slowly in and out of hers, his rod drenched in her moisture, more proof she desired him. He came alive as he never had, astonishingly sensitive to every touch.
His passion should have made him want to hurry toward pleasure, as he’d desired earlier. Instead, he kept his pace lazy, his gaze locked with hers.
They drank each other in and smiled, deepening their bond.
Too soon, they demanded relief. Beatriz’s color was high, eyes glazed. He stroked her nub and thrust faster, pumping his rod into her channel, making the mattress bounce.
She gripped his arms and cried out, her sheath quivering around his sex. He tried to hold off but failed, joining her in a timeless dance of passion, pleasure, and undeniable love.
* * * *
As much as Beatriz would have liked to remain in bed forever with Tomás, she forced herself to wake finally. Light streamed past a gap in the drapes, morning well underway, the staff at their duties.
The servants must have noticed her absence when they woke or had breakfast and surely asked Señora Cisneros what had happened to her.
Someone had to talk to them, though Beatriz had no idea how she and Tomás would handle her going from servant to lady of the house in one night. Even the kindest servant would wonder how any love match could happen so quickly. Their gossip would be endless and possibly hurtful, the same as what happened when Yolanda gained her new job with the chandler.
Oh no. Leonor.
She’d repeatedly rammed into Beatriz over Rufio. Although Tomás would never consider Leonor a love interest, she might feel betrayed because another servant had gotten what she coveted. Her jealousy might truly be dangerous this time. As Yolanda had said, Leonor was good with a knife.
Beatriz rolled over to ask Tomás what he thought. She touched cool sheets rather than him. He wasn’t on a chair or the floor, either. She figured he’d gone to his own chamber before the servants had awakened so none would stumble upon him and her naked, limbs entwined.
