Loving Lies

by Tina Donahue

  “You know Papá arranged the matter. However, there is a complication.”

  Pedro and Tomás exchanged another glance. Tomás spoke first. “We noticed her preference for boy’s clothing. Has she always behaved—” His words turned to laughter as he danced away from Fernando’s fist.

  “I have it.” Pedro lifted his finger. “Wait.” He paused and frowned. “The complication could hardly concern what I was thinking. She appears to be of age.”

  Tomás wiggled his eyebrows. “I find her nicely grown.”

  Fernando punched his biceps. Tomás winced.

  “The complication hardly concerns her age,” Fernando said. He told them of her abduction, the rescue in Granada, and what she’d revealed concerning her murderous uncle. “Isabella is convinced her only recourse is to flee Spain.”

  Pedro nodded. “Will you be fleeing with her to Portugal or France?”

  Fernando frowned. “Idiot. I have no intention of fleeing to any land, nor will she. Neither of us has done anything wrong. Her uncle must be stopped.” He turned to Tomás. “Your men have little to do since the campaign against the Moors has been halted temporarily. I say we gather your forces, ride to the estate, and take Don Rodrigo by—”

  “No.” Pedro shook his head.

  Tomás drove his fingers through his damp hair. “I agree. No.”

  Fernando glared at both of them. “What do you mean, no? I would handle this myself if I could.”

  “You can,” Tomás said.

  Pedro nodded. “Listen to him. The solution is right in front of you.”

  Fernando sighed loudly. “Do you plan to tell me what it is or am I to guess?”

  Tomás smiled. “You simply have to wed her. Once you have, you will have thwarted Don Rodrigo’s plans. It will be you, not he, who has control of her papá’s estate, no?”

  “A perfect solution.” Pedro rocked on his heels. “Wed the señorita at once and return to her papá’s castle as man and wife. Don Rodrigo may be skilled in fighting women, yet how can he battle a husband, in particular one who may have already sired an heir? He dare not touch you or your wife. You will simply enter a castle that is rightfully yours, turn the devil over to the authorities, and his arrest will end the matter.”

  Tomás nodded. “And no blood needs to be shed.”

  Fernando quelled his growing irritation with them. “Have you forgotten blood has already been shed? He murdered her parents. Isabella fears him so much she would willingly relinquish everything to be safe. Her worry has finally convinced me the man will try to harm her, especially if she carries my child.”

  Pedro shook his head. “Your mind has been clouded by love over the possibility of losing a woman you hardly deserve.”

  Fernando muttered an Arabic oath.

  Tomás grinned. “How can her uncle be a threat if the authorities have him in custody?”

  “No proof exists as to her parents’ murders, nor is there proof he had a hand in Isabella’s abduction. I need something to bring him to justice and to ensure her safety. I see only one way to accomplish it.”

  * * * *

  The stronghold had the needs of warriors in mind, not the comfort of a mere woman. Weapons rested everywhere—longbows, javelins, short swords, long pikes, cannons, and arquebuses.

  Isabella sat alone at a rough-hewn table. It was large enough to accommodate fifty men and was laden with enough food to feed the inhabitants of a village. Ignacio and six of his fellow knights didn’t seem to notice the excess as they leaned against the stone wall, their gazes averted while she struggled to eat. Each bite of beef and herring stuck in her throat, forcing her to wash the food down with goat’s milk, since the men hadn’t provided wine. When she was foolish enough to cough, all seven men stepped forward, prepared to save her life.

  She held up her hands to stop them. “I am quite well.”

  The men resumed leaning against the wall, making certain not to watch her.

  Isabella worried what Fernando might be doing and why he needed to be alone with his brothers. She feared Tomás and Pedro’s taunts had actually been diversions so they could get Fernando alone to tell him the truth about her. If they had, he might already be on his way to her papá’s castle, determined to do the right thing, including never seeing her again.

  The thought was so awful she swung her legs over the bench and pushed to her feet. Her seven protectors advanced. She backed away.

  Ignacio stepped forward again. “What do you require, señorita? More milk?

  “Eduard.” He snapped his fingers at the man to his side. “Fetch more milk. Bernardo, the señorita needs more eggs. Léon, bring more pork.”

  “No. I require no more food or drink.” She gestured to the table. “Please, enjoy what I cannot.”

  The men shook their heads.

  “I insist.” She tried to ease past.

  “Señorita.” Ignacio blocked her. “You cannot go about unescorted.”

  Isabella bristled with frustration. She made her bearing arrogant, the noble lady she was. “Why not? Am I your prisoner?”

  The man’s swarthy face paled. “Not at all. Forgive me for giving you such an idea, but Fernando does expect—”

  “Me to escort you to your chamber,” Tomás said from behind.

  Isabella turned to him.

  If Tomás knew of her deception, his smile hid it. If he saw panic in her eyes, he didn’t give her away. At her side, he graciously offered his arm. “Allow me, Isabella.”

  She stepped back. “Where is Fernando?”

  “Thrashing Pedro.” He grinned. “Before blows were exchanged he did ask me to escort you to a chamber so you might rest.”

  With no other choice, she rested her hand on Tomás’s forearm.

  When they were down the corridor and couldn’t be overheard, he leaned a trifle closer. “Forgive me for being indelicate, but Fernando asked me to tell you a bath has been arranged in the chamber along with clean garments.” He gave her a brilliant smile. “To my way of thinking, you are dazzling as you are, yet my brother insisted you prepare yourself.”

  Her heart caught. “Prepare myself for what?”

  “Do you love him very much?”

  “I adore him. Prepare myself for what?”

  “Fernando feels the same about you.” He sounded genuinely pleased. “Here we are.”

  The opened door revealed a snug bedchamber with a narrow window. Inside the space was a metal tub filled with steaming water.

  Once Isabella had withdrawn her hand, Tomás chastely kissed her fingers. “My brother will be with you shortly. He has news.”

  “What? Wait.”

  Tomás did not. He strode away, his footfalls ringing against the stone.

  Isabella closed the chamber door and sagged against it she was so lightheaded. What could Fernando’s news be? If it were something bad, Tomás wouldn’t have behaved so graciously. Of course, he had also been far too mysterious.

  She bit her lip, finally noticing woman’s clothing on the straw mattress. Leather shoes, a fine linen chemise, a kirtle, and a gown…to prepare herself?

  For what? She lifted the bluish-green gown. Compared to her current garments it was as light as air and of the finest silk imaginable, with a long train and a square neckline. She couldn’t imagine where it and the other items had come from or why she was supposed to wear them. Unless…

  Fernando had made his plans and had sent word to her papá’s estate detailing how he’d rescued Don Rodrigo’s eldest niece, Isabella, and was returning with his betrothed to claim what was rightfully theirs. Or he’d sent word to Sancha that her eldest sister, Isabella, heir to their papá’s wealth, was safe and traveling to Sancha’s refuge with her betrothed.

  When Don Rodrigo or Don Eduardo’s servants heard the news, they’d tell the messenger the truth. He, in turn, would return with the details. In no more than a few days, Fernando would be the object of pity and scorn to his broth
ers and the men in this stronghold.

  She sank to the edge of the bed.

  The chamber door swung open. Fernando strode inside smiling until he saw her. He closed the door and regarded the gown she had clutched in her fists. “The garment displeases you?”

  It was a moment before she understood his question. She prayed the clothing was his news. “In addition to weapons in this stronghold, the men also have women’s gowns?”

  Regaining his smile, Fernando leaned against the closed door. “Merchants know the men have wives and lovers awaiting them back home, so they bring their wares here. Garments, combs, shoes, even jewels are purchased.” He regarded the gown. “I thought the color matched your eyes. I find it quite beautiful and want you to wear it.”

  “As you wish, my lord. Is this your news?”

  He looked confused. “No. A request.”

  Queasy, Isabella pushed off the bed. “Tomás said you had news for me. Was it what you said about merchants bringing their wares here?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  Her belly twisted at her previous thought of Fernando sending a messenger to Don Rodrigo or Sancha. “Waiting to hear bad tidings is far worse than whatever may be said. What news do you have for me?”

  “Bad tidings? Is that how you view wedding me?” He gestured to the gown. “I want you to wear what I purchased after you bathe and rest. I want your hair uncovered and your spirit willing. The sacerdote is at Enrique’s estate. I sent for him and my brother. They should arrive before nightfall. Enrique will confirm our betrothal so we have no reason to wait for banns. There, you have my news. Now, if you will excuse me, I must prepare myself.”

  As Fernando opened the door, Isabella stepped toward him. “We are to wed this very day?”

  * * * *

  The shock in her question and the reluctance behind it surprised him. After closing the door, he turned and faced her. Isabella’s face had drained of color. A blow wouldn’t have wounded him more. “We have no reason to wait. Before the day ends, the priest will join us forever.”

  She looked physically ill.

  His belly clenched. “I thought you loved me.”

  “I do. I will never love another.”

  “Yet you fear wedding me? Why?”

  She sank to the mattress.

  Fernando crossed the chamber and dropped to one knee at her side. “Are you worried about your uncle? You have no need to. Once we return to your papá’s—”

  “No.” She stood. “You gave me your pledge not to go there.”

  “I promised not to take you there by myself.” He pushed to his feet.

  She backed away. “I refuse to return to my papá’s castle.”

  He grabbed her arm before she could open the chamber door. “Your uncle has committed several crimes. Once I bring him to justice all will be well.”

  “He will never pay.” She rested her forehead against the door. “He will go on murdering as he has in the past.”

  Fernando leaned into her, trying to reassure. “How can he? Your uncle will soon face me, Enrique, Pedro, Tomás, and a score of men from this stronghold, knights all, warriors all. Don Rodrigo is nothing more than a coward who can only waylay a trusting brother and defenseless women. He cannot and will not fight the force I have gathered against him.”

  She breathed hard.

  He ran his hands down her arms. “Everything will be all right.”

  “No. I cannot wed you.”

  Stunned, he turned her to face him. When she tried to sidle away, he wouldn’t allow it.

  “You refuse to wed me?”

  She gripped his shirt. “I want to marry you more than anything, but it is not meant to be.”

  “How can you say such a thing? The deal was struck long ago.”

  Isabella shook her head. “You said Enrique intends to confirm the betrothal? Does he have the contracts? Will he be bringing them?”

  “What does it matter? His word will be accepted as fact.”

  “And what if he says you cannot wed me? What if he orders you not to?”

  “What are you talking about? Why would he? Even if he was foolish enough to do so, none of my brothers orders me to do anything. Not even my father could tell me not to marry you.”

  “Once he arrives, he could.”

  “Papá is in the north on other matters. Even if he was here, he could never keep me from what I want. You belong to me, Isabella. I refuse to accept another.”

  “If you had to you might grow to love another woman.”

  Fernando stared at her then frowned. “Never. I would hate the woman as much as I love you, because she kept me from you. No woman will ever separate us, do you hear me?”

  “Would you have still wanted me if no contract was involved?”

  “Of course.” Why was she intent on such foolishness? “I would want you if you were betrothed to each of my idiot brothers.” He held her chin between his thumb and forefinger, not allowing her to turn away. “I would murder them to have you.”

  “What of the inheritance, would you relinquish it to have me? Would you leave this place and go to Portugal or France to be with me?”

  Fernando fought to contain his growing irritation. “You uncle will not cow me. I will never flee.”

  “Then I cannot—”

  “You can and you will.” He pulled her away from the door and opened it. “I expect you to bathe and to rest. If you need help with your laces, I can assist you when I return.”

  He left.

  * * * *

  Isabella sank to the floor and pulled her knees to her chest. She’d tried to tell him everything and had failed. She loved him so much she’d wanted one last chance to have him for her own as the person she truly was. It hadn’t worked. If anything, matters had worsened. Once he might have been indifferent to Sancha; now he would hate her because she stood in the way of what he wanted and could never have.

  Nothing Isabella could do would fix this. The truth would immediately tear him from her and shatter his trust. By continuing the lie, she might be able to wed him, but what then? The Church would never sanction a union once it knew about the fraud. Would the ceremony even happen? The moment Enrique heard her name he would surely know of her deception, unless he wasn’t in possession of the contracts and had also forgotten Fernando was supposed to wed Sancha.

  Isabella couldn’t keep still as she bathed, frantic with worry and a few seconds of reckless hope. What a fool she was, still trying to find a way to have him because her heart wouldn’t allow anything else.

  When Fernando returned, the sun’s waning light flooded the chamber, caressing him. He’d shaved and wore clothing worthy of the noble he was. His hose were of the finest wool and striped, black alternating with white, in the fashion of the day. His linen shirt was also white, his doublet and robe a deep red.

  As Isabella burned his image in her mind, he looked down at himself. “The garments are ill-fitting, no? They belong to Pedro. Of all of us, he is the shortest and stoutest. Our father claims he takes after our mamá.”

  Isabella didn’t comment.

  Fernando finally touched the healing wounds on his neck and jaw. “Why are you staring? Do you find me repulsive?”

  “Never have I seen a man more beautiful.”

  His face flushed. “Never say what you have in front of my brothers. Come, you need to get dressed.”

  She needed to be with him a lifetime and prayed for a miracle.

  After working her laces and buttons, he stepped back to survey his work. “The gown suits you. Do I?”

  She sagged against him, weak with tenderness and desire. “I will never want another.”

  “Nor I.” He returned her caress briefly then pulled back and took her hand. “The time has come for us to seal our fates. I expect you to keep pace with me.”

  * * * *

  When they’d reached the outside, Enrique was dismounting while Tomás and Pedr
o ran to greet him.

  Fernando glanced at Isabella. She stared at his eldest brother, her complexion again draining of color. Why? “Have you met Enrique before? Do you know him?”

  She shrank from his questions. “No.”

  “You seem afraid of him. Why?”

  “I fear losing you.”

  Again, her response mystified Fernando, though now was not the time to address his concerns. “Never admit your fear in front of my brothers.”

  Her attention drifted back to Enrique.

  Unsettled, Fernando backed away, pointing to the spot she was on. “Stay here.”

  He joined his brothers and waited impatiently as Enrique scolded Tomás for not having won a major campaign against the Moors. Enrique next chided Pedro for not having sired twelve sons.

  Pedro made a face. “I have yet to be betrothed.”

  “The same as Enrique,” Fernando said.

  The eldest of the de Zayas brothers looked over and grinned. Although he and Fernando resembled each other closely, Enrique’s white forelock set them apart. It shone in the lowering sun as he faced Fernando.

  Enrique leaned close. “Tell me, is the girl truly the beauty Tomás’s men claimed? They spoke of little else on the ride here.”

  “I will have their heads for discussing her.”

  “Ah, the men lied to spare your honor because she is beyond plain?”

  “She is more enchanting than you can imagine and as fearless as any man. She captured my heart in an instant, and I will not have anyone speak of her, save me, her rightful lord and master.”

  “You seem certain of your status with her.”

  “She not only adores me, she knows me to be the most handsome of my brothers.”

  Enrique wrinkled his nose. “It appears your brave beauty is afflicted with poor eyesight.” He clucked his tongue. “Poor girl.” He clamped his hand on Fernando’s shoulder. “Lucky you.”

  Fernando smiled. “I should murder you for your insults, but I will not. Lucky you.” He pulled his brother close in a hearty embrace.

  Enrique returned the fierce hug before dropping his arms.

  “Have I injured you?” Fernando grinned. “Good.”

  “The girl over there is your betrothed?”