Loving Lies

by Tina Donahue

  “No.” She looked past her shoulder at him. “I need a weapon.”

  “Why?”

  “Your dagger will do.” She searched his clothing. “Where is it?”

  He’d left it and his sword nearby, to have them at the ready. Fernando rested his leg on both.

  Back on her knees, she licked the inside of his thigh until his toes curled and his muscles bunched, allowing her to free the dagger.

  He cleared his throat and made an effort to slow his breathing. “If I offended you when I asked you to bend over…”

  “You did.” She slipped the weapon from its scabbard and gently trailed the tip up his thigh until she’d reached his groin. “This can prove quite useful for spearing things, no?”

  The dagger’s keen point rested too near his sac. He met her gaze.

  She smiled. “Are you hungry, my lord?”

  Before he could answer, she took his braies and returned to the fire where she bent at the waist, as he preferred, speared the vegetables then dropped them onto his clothing. After returning to his side, she cut up the carrots, stabbed a piece, dipped it in oil, and brought it to his mouth. “Eat.”

  Gladly. He parted his lips, taking the morsel.

  As he chewed, she watched, making him crave her even more. Her hair was in disarray from their passion, lips bruised from his lust, cheeks flushed with color. The loveliest he’d ever seen her.

  With her free hand beneath his chin, she ran her thumb over his bottom lip and stroked his cheek. He forgot to breathe and was barely aware of eating the turnips and cabbage she offered, not tasting any of them. Once he’d finished half the food, his heart was racing out of control. He was fully aroused.

  “Are you enjoying your meal, my lord?”

  Never had he relished one more. “If I tell you I am, will you promise to feed me like this even after we wed and you grow weary of me?”

  Her smile faded. She studied his dagger. “You need this for other things, no?”

  Fernando wanted it for these moments. He took the weapon. “I need it to feed you now. Tell me you want this.”

  Isabella touched his hand. “I do.”

  She meant it. He saw the truth on her face, yet sadness lingered in her expression and voice. Perhaps she did fear growing weary of him, or she was recalling her parents’ deaths and wondered whether he’d leave her first or if she’d leave him. He’d never abandon her willingly. Always, he’d fight to remain at her side.

  He slipped his fingers beneath her chin and brought a piece of turnip to her lips.

  She accepted the food without pause, making a face as she chewed.

  He suppressed a smile. “Is something amiss? Is the taste not to your liking?”

  Her grimace worsened as she cautiously worked the turnip around her mouth. “All is well.” She sounded close to gagging. “I should be grateful for any food.” To prove it, she forced this bite and the rest of the carrots and cabbage down her throat, not complaining once.

  Fernando cradled the side of her face. “I was wrong.”

  “Concerning what?”

  “You being too pampered. You need to be pampered even more.” He eased the shirt over her, taking extra care when he came to her scraped elbows. He was equally mindful of her battered knees and sore feet as he assisted her with the rest of her clothing.

  Once he was dressed, Fernando eased her down to their straw bed and stepped back.

  She grabbed his calf. “Where are you going?”

  “To put out the fire and clear the chamber of food before it attracts vermin.”

  “Please be quick.” Her expression softened even more. “Return to me.”

  Only death would keep him away. He made fast work of tossing the remaining food out the window, screening it, and dousing the flames. With his weapons in hand, he reclined behind her.

  She glanced over. “Give me your dagger.”

  “Why?”

  “To protect you as you sleep.”

  “From you?”

  She looked down. His hand was already beneath her shirt, cupping her breast. “It appears I would be the one who needs protection from you.”

  He squeezed her supple flesh. “Do you want protection from me?”

  She turned toward him as much as she could. Her breath hushed against his lips. “I want your dagger. I need to keep you safe so you can continue to arouse me as you do now.”

  Rather than argue, he gave her the weapon and pressed close until his thickening shaft nestled between the seam of her buttocks. After sliding his hand over her left breast to her right, he slipped his fingers beneath her hose and braies, resting them on her smooth mound.

  “Gracias, Fernando.” She sounded distracted and breathless.

  Exactly as he liked. “After we wed we should always sleep like this. Without weapons, of course.”

  She didn’t comment.

  Perhaps she felt more secure when she was armed. “Isabella?”

  She didn’t respond. Uncertain as to why, he finally pushed up and leaned over. Her breathing was even, eyes closed. She was asleep already? He wanted to believe she was, since it was easier to accept than her avoidance of yet another subject. What had he said wrong this time? He’d spoken only of their marriage, sleeping together, and his weapons. Given tonight’s intimacies and her wanton response, she should welcome her deflowering, not fear it. No other woman—and there had been scores who’d professed their love for him—had actually required his touch and presence as she seemed to. The thought of wedding him surely caused her little, if any, distress.

  Which left his comment about weapons.

  She gripped his dagger in her fist. If she’d been asleep, her fingers would have been limp. He wanted to ask why she behaved so oddly, when he recalled her earlier comment about his dagger. How he’d need it for reasons other than feeding her. Was she worried he’d return to battle and die fighting the Moors? Was she feigning sleep to avoid discussing it?

  Another woman might have found his scars revolting. To Isabella the marks meant he’d suffered, he could have died, he and she might never have met again.

  Fernando thanked God they had. His time in battle was over. It ceased the moment he’d seen her in the marketplace. Spain had many fine men to protect her. His duty now, his privilege, was to safeguard this woman for all time.

  He sank back to the straw and held her as gently as he could so she felt no fear.

  * * * *

  Despite Fernando’s embrace and because of it, she couldn’t relax. Her belly twisted with her increasingly troubled thoughts.

  He kept speaking about wedding her.

  During their intimacies, she’d hardly dwelled on a marriage she knew would never happen. Her only concern had been in selfishly accepting and delivering pleasure as long as she didn’t conceive. Her worry now was how she had led them into dishonor and jeopardized her relationship with Sancha. What would her sister think of tonight’s events and what had happened in the stream if she was fated to wed this man with nothing stopping the union? How could Sancha lie with him knowing her younger sister had enjoyed acts she would never indulge in?

  Although Isabella would never tell Sancha what had transpired, her sister would read what was in Isabella’s heart by looking into her eyes. She’d know Isabella had disgraced her because she wanted a man who wasn’t hers to have. She might even guess he was already more important to Isabella than her own flesh and blood.

  And what of Fernando? If his fate were to be within Sancha’s arms, today’s events would haunt his future. Was the brief time they had together worth the pain it would bring?

  Her conscience said it wasn’t. Her heart thought otherwise. She pushed closer to him.

  He tightened his arm around her. “All is well.”

  All was not.

  He nuzzled closer. “Sleep.”

  It was a long time before Isabella could do so.

  * * * *

 
Sometime later, uneasiness tugged at her. On some level, Isabella realized she was dreaming.

  She and Fernando were back at the stream. He was angry at how slowly she bathed. “What are you keeping from me?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me the truth.”

  “I only want to protect you and my sister.” She reached for his hand.

  A strong current pulled him away.

  Startled, she clawed the water to grab him but couldn’t. The stream kept pushing her back. “Fernando!”

  He struggled to reach her, swimming as hard as he could. The water swept him away. She cried in agony, staring as the stream disappeared and they were on the road to her papá's castle.

  Fernando walked so fast she couldn’t keep up and lost sight of him as he dashed over a hill. As she ran, the ground turned to mud, sucking at her feet. When she finally reached the top of the hill and looked down, he was on a battlefield surrounded by Moors. He fought a man to the right, not seeing the one behind him, who advanced quickly and buried his sword in Fernando’s back.

  Isabella screamed.

  The blade ripped into Fernando’s flesh. His garments were sodden with blood, his eyes glassy as he fell to the ground. She raced to his side, desperate to protect him. Before she could, the slaver grabbed her wrist and tore at her clothes until she was nude.

  “Your flesh is mine.” The man used her uncle’s voice. “No one can save you now. Fernando is dying. Already the jackdaws and vultures arrive.”

  The birds circled overhead. One, two, six, a dozen landed on him, prepared to feast on his flesh.

  Isabella awoke with a start, hair clinging to her sweaty forehead and neck. Gulping air, she felt behind her.

  Fernando was gone.

  Panicked, she turned to the door. The latch was still down. She hurried to the window and pushed against the screen Fernando had left slightly ajar. Pink and gold slashed the sky announcing the coming dawn, though it failed to tell her when he’d left or why.

  His dagger was gone, but his sword was next to the straw, so she had protection. No matter what her dreams had foretold, he hadn’t left her. He was around and she would find him. Her heart allowed no other choice.

  She had one leg over the base of the window when Fernando came around the building, the first rays of sun glittering off his damp hair, face, and coming beard.

  Upon seeing her, he stopped and looked over. Checking if someone had followed him? No one had. He stalked to the window, glaring at her uncovered hair. “What are you doing?”

  She pulled him close and showered him with kisses. He stared before pushing her away. “Get back in the chamber.”

  She bounced on her heels as he crawled through the window and closed the screen. When he turned to her, she wrapped her arms around his torso.

  He sighed. “Did you break my sword?”

  She laughed then sobbed.

  He eased away. “Why are you weeping? Did you do something worse than breaking my sword?”

  “No.”

  “Why the tears?”

  “When I awoke you were gone.”

  “I left to wash my face.” He huffed out a sigh. “You believe I would abandon you here or in any place?”

  His honor would preclude such behavior. He’d deliver her to her papá’s castle and in the care of the servants before leaving her for all time. “No.”

  “You missed me?”

  Tears coursed down her cheeks. “No matter how much time passes, I will never forget these moments and will forever miss you.”

  “What?”

  She suddenly realized what she’d said. Unable to repeat her words, she glanced past him at the sounds of a crowing rooster.

  “Isabella, look at me.”

  Her heart sank at the confusion and concern on his face.

  “What did you mean by what you said?”

  “I missed you.”

  “No. You said you would forever miss me as if our separation was permanent. Why would such a thing happen?”

  “It was in my dream. It foretold of our separation.”

  “How?”

  “Each time we were within each other’s reach, things always pulled us apart.”

  “What things?”

  “The stream. This journey. The Moors. Again and again the dream repeated it, warning us to prepare for the worst.”

  He pulled her against him. “What you dreamt foretells nothing. It was only a dream.”

  She slid her hands up his back. “What if my nightmare is our fate?”

  “We, not dreams, make our destiny. Dry your tears. After you wash your face we can partake of whatever food the landlord has.”

  “My dreams also warned of the horrid fare.”

  Fernando laughed. “Come. We have a long journey to your papá’s castle.”

  “How long?”

  His laughter stopped. Again, he eased back. “What does it matter?”

  It was all the time they had left. “Will we face danger for hours, days, or weeks?”

  “We face discomfort, not danger, provided you dress as you should.” He lifted her hair in his hand. “Where is your hat?”

  “How long?”

  “As long as it takes. Are you now in a great hurry to wed me? If so, I can inquire about a sacerdote so he can join us this very day.”

  Her belly clenched.

  He studied her closely. “You want to wait until we reach our destination.”

  “It would be best.”

  “But it saddens you. I see it in your eyes. What are you keeping from me?”

  She stepped back. “Only the truth.” She prayed he wouldn’t ask anything else that she’d feel compelled to answer, causing him to hate her even sooner. “You deserve more than having to wait for a woman who is so unworthy of you.”

  “What are you talking about? You deserve a first-born heir, not the second son of a count. In this transaction I am unworthy of you.”

  “Never say those words again.” She smacked his chest. “I forbid it.”

  “You what?”

  “I refuse to speak of this again.” She fetched her sack hat and pushed her hair beneath it. “We must continue our journey.”

  * * * *

  Fernando didn’t know what to say. As Isabella took one last look around the chamber before departing, she seemed oblivious to its sorry state even though another highborn woman wouldn’t be.

  Isabella was unlike any woman Fernando had ever known. She lied with stunning ease while also telling the truth. As to how much her lies contaminated the truth or her truth dignified the lies he wasn’t entirely certain. He did know one thing. She had a secret that worried her greatly.

  She sighed while washing her face and sighed again as she followed him to the base of a poorly tended olive tree to partake of their food.

  Although Fernando settled himself on the ground and leaned against the knotty trunk, she remained standing, her gaze turned inward. Another traveler watched her. The young man was as boorish and filthy as those earlier thieves, his expression confused as he studied her face and shirt.

  Before he noticed the outline of her breasts, Fernando kicked her foot. “Tomás.”

  She seemed unaware of the kick or her new name.

  He grabbed the edge of her shirt and pulled her to the ground. “Ignore me again, little brother, and I may have to give you this.” He lifted his fist.

  The traveler laughed, revealing his missing teeth.

  She pulled her legs to her chest and rested her head on her knees. Fernando said no more lest she weep. When he gave the traveler a hard stare, the young man left.

  During the ensuing silence, Fernando forced himself to eat a bit of the hard cheese and stale bread. Isabella remained as she was, not speaking, not weeping, not acknowledging his presence.

  At last, he turned to her. “Do you know the identity of your abductors?”

  Her endless sighs finally paused. She lifted
her head and stared at him.

  The fear in her eyes told him he’d guessed the truth. Her abduction wasn’t the random event he’d first thought. Someone had planned it, though why? To sell her flesh through sheer greed or because of hate?

  Who could feel so horribly about her, unless it was a man who’d wanted her above everything else and could do nothing to change matters because she was already betrothed? Was that her secret? A man desired her beyond reason and felt such fury at her refusal to be his he’d delivered her to the Moors so her future would be bleaker than the one he faced?

  It wasn’t a scenario Fernando wanted to consider, yet he needed the truth. “Answer me.”

  “I knew none of the men who abducted me.”

  “You know the one who ordered it.”

  She paled. “No.”

  She did. Why the lies? He could think of only two reasons. She still feared the man despite Fernando’s protection, or she was protecting the man from him. The hardest possibility for him to face.

  It was always possible she’d returned the man’s love and understood his anguish because it matched her own. It was also possible she’d forgiven his actions because he and she were caught up in events not of their own making. Namely, a betrothal neither of them had wanted.

  Fernando’s chest ached. He recalled her desire for him last night, wondering if it was the truth or if lies had tainted her passion. He considered she might have delivered herself to him to prove the other man wasn’t in her thoughts, hoping her ardor would keep him from dealing with the puto once he learned his identity.

  When he’d asked what she hid from him, she’d said only the truth. Of her feelings for another man she couldn’t forget? Troubled and saddened, he threw down his bread. “Do you intend to eat or not?”

  She looked surprised at his change of subject. “Must I?”

  “Our journey is long.” He slapped the rest of the cheese and bread on her lap. “Eat. This may be your last chance for some time to come.”

  * * * *

  As they began to walk, Isabella steeled herself for Fernando’s questions as to who had ordered her abduction.

  He didn’t mention it again or anything else. His pace and silence remained steady as he led them toward the hills in the distance before changing course to a series of wild olive trees skirting a field. Mist hovered over the land, softening the sun, bathing the air with its moist, fragrant scent. In the distance, there were scores of sheep rather than structures.