by Tina Donahue
The devil’s words paused as his right foot caught on a series of rocks Fernando had been backing him toward. His arms flailed to stop his fall. Before he hit the ground, Fernando swung his blade, striking the man mid-chest, nearly cutting him in half.
It was over in seconds. In death, Don Rodrigo’s eyes remained open, staring at a horror only he could see.
Fernando’s sword slipped from his hand. He fell to his knees and lowered his head as the world spun. At last, he lay on his side. His blood stained the earth as he finished the business of dying.
His final thought was of Isabella.
Chapter 19
She prodded her mare to go faster with no thought to the animal’s condition, the path’s safety, or her own. Something was amiss. The feeling began a short while before. It was unexpected and came as the sun warmed her face. Despite the heat, a chill ran through her, followed by the briefest pressure against her mouth. A kiss from something insubstantial, without flesh and blood.
Fernando saying farewell as he died.
The thought came unbidden. She tried to push it away, but it kept returning. She pushed back a sob. “Please, Fernando, I cannot lose you.”
“Isabella.” Enrique pointed. “Fernando’s gelding.”
Reining in her mare, she searched for him, seeing instead a dark pool that appeared to be blood.
She dismounted and ran ahead, stopping at a severed arm and her uncle’s manservant Ulberto. Her heart cramped. Looking over, she next spied Don Rodrigo’s body. “Fernando!”
She tore across the field and fell at his side, gathering him in her arms. She pressed his cool face to her shoulder. “All will be well.” Sobbing, she rocked him. He didn’t respond. “Fernando, please, you cannot leave me.”
Tomás reached her side. “Holy Mother.” He made the sign of the cross over himself. “Enrique, Pedro, hurry.”
Isabella rocked. “He cannot die.”
Enrique ran to the scene and dropped to his knees. “Release him. Now.” Once she had, he pressed his ear to Fernando’s chest.
Isabella begged, “Please, tell me he will live.”
“His heart still beats, though weakly.” Enrique spoke to his brothers. “We need ligatures to staunch the flow of blood.”
Isabella pressed her lips to Fernando’s cheek. She smoothed back his hair as Enrique and his younger brothers did what they could for his wounds.
She grabbed Enrique’s sleeve. “We need to take him to the convent.” She was ready to say the words that would betray her sister in the hope of saving Fernando. “Sancha is a healer. She must have arrived safely by now and will know what to do.”
* * * *
Although Sancha did her best, Fernando’s injuries were so grave they seemed beyond her skill. In the coming days, the wounds became infected, causing a fever.
Fernando’s remaining brothers, Alfonso and Gabriello, arrived at the convent to offer their support and prayers. The brothers sent for their father, who was still in the north on other matters. As Catarina was about to birth her first child, she was told nothing of her brother’s condition. Isabella sent word for Rupert to bring Diego, hoping the pup might cheer his papá to good health.
Fernando’s condition worsened. He ate only a few spoonfuls of broth at a time and barely took enough water. The sacerdote, who didn’t know of Sancha’s healing skills or her attempts to save Fernando, anointed him, preparing for death. Through the endless days and nights, Isabella remained at Fernando’s side.
Sancha finally begged her to rest. Isabella shook her head. “I cannot leave my husband.”
“What of the child you surely carry? It needs its mother to be in good health.”
She turned to her sister. Sancha’s features were exceedingly delicate, her reddish hair threaded with gold, her eyes a rich brown, so much darker than Fernando’s, though equally beautiful. If it had been Sancha in the slave market, he would have instantly fallen in love with the woman she had become, and she with the man he was. He would have been safe.
Isabella lowered her head.
Sancha slipped her arm around her shoulders. “There is naught to do except wait.”
Not for his death. His fever would break. She wouldn’t accept any other outcome.
“We can also pray.” Sancha paused. “If I remove his arm and leg, perhaps his health will—”
“No.” The thought horrified Isabella. She pulled away from her sister. “How dare you say such a thing in front of him.”
“Fernando is far too ill to know what goes on.”
Perhaps, but Isabella wouldn’t risk him hearing one unfavorable word. She pulled Sancha into the corridor, relieved Enrique and the others were resting in their own chambers. Isabella pressed her cheek to Sancha’s so they could speak quietly. “My husband is a warrior and you mean to make him a cripple?”
“I want to save his life. I only waited this long to remove his limbs in the hope his fever might break on its own.”
“Give it more time or find another way. If Enrique was lying in there, you would move heaven and earth to leave him whole. I see how he looks at you and you at him.”
Sancha pulled back. Although color rose to her cheeks, she offered no comment.
Isabella held her sister’s hand. “There is no shame in wanting a man or seeking a life outside this convent.”
Sancha glanced at a nun who passed, smiling at the older woman. Once they were alone again, Sancha pulled Isabella into an empty chamber and closed the door. “All I want to do is improve my healing skills without interference from the Church, the Inquisition, men, or anyone who might become suspicious of the knowledge I seek. If I were to wed and conceive, my husband would never allow me to do anything except bear his children. By cloistering myself here I have the freedom to do as I wish.”
“And that would be to heal. So heal the man I love and leave him whole. If not to please me, then to please Enrique. I warn you, sister, the man means to have you, much as Fernando did with me. My husband was relentless until I delivered my flesh to him. Once I had, I was relentless in seeking his touch.”
Sancha pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “Have you forgotten where we are?”
“Should we go outside and speak on the grounds? My guess is Enrique is already there scouting a perfect spot where he can make you his.”
Sancha dropped her hand. “Have I no say in the matter?”
“Would you tell him no?”
Her creamy throat turned bright pink. “Even if he was the most handsome man in—”
“He is not. Fernando is.”
She sighed. “No matter how pleasing I find Enrique, I want to continue my healing.”
“You can heal the children you bear him when they fall ill. Why would he let them die? He seems to be a reasonable man in addition to being quite handsome and virile.”
Sancha shook her head. “Papá was correct. You are far too bold for a female.”
“It served me well when I had to survive in Granada before Fernando rescued me.”
“Isabella, forgive me.” Sancha embraced her. “Did I thank you for your protection?"
“I expect no gratitude. Save Fernando. Keep him whole.”
“I can wait until tonight to see if he improves. If not…”
“He will.” Isabella tightened her embrace. “I assure you.”
“You can assure nothing, little sister. Fernando’s fate is in God’s hands. If his fever worsens, I will have to remove his arm and leg, though even that may not save him.”
* * * *
At Sancha’s urging, Isabella remained in the chamber, praying for Fernando’s recovery. When fatigue finally claimed her, she sank to the stone floor near the prayer bench, determined to rest for only a moment before returning to his side.
When Isabella awoke, she was on the straw mattress, covered by several blankets, having no idea how she’d come to be on the bed or why she couldn’t recall it. She l
ooked up and stared at the window. The sun was rising. She’d slept the entire night without Sancha awakening her? Isabella pushed to a sitting position and lowered her head quickly, dizziness overcoming her.
The chamber door opened. “Isabella?”
She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked. “Why did you let me sleep? How could you have taken the last moments I had with Fernando?”
“He survived the night.”
She stopped rocking. “What of his arm and leg?”
“He remains whole.”
Isabella broke into tears.
“No need to cry. His fever broke, he drank a great quantity of water, and even consumed a bit of broth. You are the one who worries me.”
“I have never been better.” She pushed off the bed, embraced her sister, and was about to leave the chamber when Sancha blocked her way. Isabella frowned. “I want to see Fernando.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“He refuses to see you.”
Isabella backed away and sank to the edge of the straw mattress.
“You can change his mind on the matter,” Sancha said.
“Only if I become you.”
She smiled gently. “Although he claims otherwise, Fernando wants to see no one except you. He loves you greatly. He nearly died proving it.”
“He nearly died because of my deception.”
“Make him forget it.” Sancha cupped Isabella’s chin. “You can look in on him as he sleeps, but give him a few days rest before telling him how you feel. When you do, you must be freshly bathed and wearing one of my gowns. The loveliest I have.”
* * * *
The following days seemed endless. At last, Sancha said the time was right and offered Isabella her gown. It was of a simple design, yet elegant, and constructed of the finest silk in a pale yellow tint to complement Isabella’s coloring.
Sancha pressed her hands to her chest. “You look beautiful.”
Isabella felt anything but. She approached Fernando’s chamber with Diego in her arms, her pulse racing, stomach rolling. Fernando’s father and his brothers, except for Enrique, were in the corridor. When they saw her, their converse paused. Although Fernando’s father had forgiven her deception, Isabella was still shy around him.
He smiled warmly. His features were as striking as Fernando’s, his silver hair adding elegance to his good looks.
“How exquisite you are. My son is a fortunate man.”
“More fortunate than he deserves,” Gabriello said. He closely resembled Tomás except for his dark hair. “Your loveliness causes the angels to weep.”
Tomás rolled his eyes then punched Gabriello’s arm to get him moving with the rest.
Once Fernando’s father and brothers had turned into another corridor, Isabella entered her husband’s chamber. Fernando was sitting up with the aid of numerous pillows, his face turned to the window.
He still slept.
Relief flooded her. She studied the wrappings on his injured arm, leg, and chest. His ribs were prominent even though he’d been eating. He was still unshaven, and his hair stood in all directions. He looked more haggard than Isabella would have liked, yet he was the most magnificent man she’d ever seen. How she adored him. How she feared losing his love.
She lowered the galgo to his feet. “I need you to smooth the way for me. Go and greet your papá.”
The pup licked her nose. She frowned and pointed. “Go.”
Diego did, bounding everywhere except where he should, despite Isabella’s deepening frown and frantic gestures. After sniffing the meager contents of the room, the pup finally trotted to the bed and yipped.
Fernando jerked, his uninjured arm falling over the side of the bed. Diego licked his fingers. Again, Fernando flinched. It seemed to take him a great deal of effort to open his eyes and look at the pup. He lifted his eyebrows and smiled.
So did Isabella as she remained in a corner of the chamber, hidden within the shadows.
“Diego?” Fernando’s rumbling voice sounded dull with fatigue. “Why are you licking me? Do I look like your next meal? Do I taste like rabbit meat?”
The pup looked at him then resumed licking.
Again, Fernando smiled. He was lifting his head when he saw her. His gaze softened then hungered. He seemed ready to push off the mattress and come to her but did not. His smile disappeared, a wary look replacing it before he turned away.
Isabella’s heart caught. She crossed the room to him and sank to her knees at the side of his bed. “Sancha told me you were eating again. Are you hungry now? Can I bring you an orange or figs? Would that please you?”
He looked at her.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I thought I had lost you.”
“I was barely injured.” He swallowed. “A few cuts, nothing more.”
Isabella sobbed. “You are impossible.”
Fernando’s expression remained guarded. “Why are you crying, Isabella?”
“I nearly lost you.”
After searching her face for a long moment, he spoke haltingly. “Is it guilt or shame you feel? Or do you really love me?”
She was crying so hard she could barely speak. “I would die without you.”
“Because I rescued you in Granada. Because you wanted to save Sancha from—”
“No.” She rested her hand on his chest, adoring its warmth and the feel of his crisp curls beneath her fingers. “My loyalty is to you first and then our child, no one else, not even my sisters.”
His eyes widened slightly. He rested his hand on hers. “Are you with child?”
“I may be.” Her voice trembled. “Unless my belly has been rebelling because I was so worried about you. Fernando, please, if you would only give me another chance I will prove myself. I know I have no inheritance to bring to our union, but I would do anything to make you happy.”
He cradled the side of her face. His touch was still weak, the strain of his condition evident in his halting breaths. “Do you honestly believe I wanted you solely for wealth I already have?”
She didn’t understand. “Sancha turned her holdings over to you?”
“I want nothing of Sancha…dear girl that she is. For my efforts against the Moors I was granted a castle and land in a newly re-conquered part of Spain.” He inhaled deeply and sighed. “Will you join me there?”
A new sob tore from her, this one happy. She kissed his lips, his bearded cheeks, the tip of his nose, his forehead. “Not even you could stop me.”
Smiling, he used his uninjured arm to ease her close, claiming her mouth.
His kiss was more passionate than Isabella expected, given his health. She finally eased back. “You must take care not to injure yourself further.”
“It was only a few cuts.”
Tenderness overwhelmed her. She smiled softly. “You must take care not to offend the nuns, or the good women may banish us from the chamber.”
Fernando leaned forward to kiss her throat and cheek before pressing his mouth to her ear. “We have no choice but to use the chamber, unless you prefer the convent grounds.”
She glanced at the window and sighed. “The grounds are already lost to us.”
He sank against his pillows and looked over.
Sancha was in the garden, studying a plant she might use for one of her potions. Enrique watched from the side. The man’s white forelock danced in the breeze. His gaze yearned.
Isabella sensed Enrique wanted Sancha because she was more learned than most men, the kind of woman he desired. He would have her, too, though only after he’d won her to his side.
Fernando shook his head. “My poor brother.”
Isabella laughed. “Poor Sancha.”
“I agree.” He inhaled deeply. “Enrique is old and hideous.”
“He will never be you.” She trailed her fingers over his chest, circling one of his flat nipples. “Poor Sancha, lucky me.”
H
e regarded her for a long moment, his expression filled with awe. “Time will tell.”
It already had.
She yielded to his next kiss and embrace. It told her what she needed to know. They had survived the secrets and the lies, until now only love and a bright qisma remained.
Meet the Author
Tina Donahue is an award-winning, bestselling novelist in erotic, paranormal, contemporary and historical romance for Kensington, Ellora’s Cave, Samhain Publishing, Siren Publishing, Booktrope, and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. Three of her erotic novels (Adored; Deep, Dark, Delicious; Lush Velvet Nights) were named finalists in the 2011 EPIC competition. Sensual Stranger, her erotic romance, was chosen Book of the Year 2010 (erotic category) at the French review site, Blue Moon reviews. The Golden Nib Award at Miz Love Loves Books was created specifically for her erotic romance Lush Velvet Nights. Deep, Dark, Delicious (erotic romance) received an Award of Merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competition. Take Me Away (erotic romance) captured second place in the NEC-RWA contest. And The Yearning (erotic paranormal) was honored with an Award of Merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competition. She’s featured in the 2012 Novel and Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked in Story Direction for a Hollywood production company. You can find her online at www.tinadonahue.com, twitter.com/tinadonahue and facebook.com/tina.donahue.75.
Stay tuned for a sample of Book 2 in Tina Donahue’s Dangerous Desires series
WICKED WHISPERS
Coming to an e-reader near you May 24, 2016
A woman with a dangerous passion…the man who will make her his.
In a world where women have few rights and the Inquisition grows in power, Sancha will risk her freedom and deny her heart to continue healing, which is forbidden to her.
Determined to have her love, Enrique woos Sancha with exquisite passion. He gives her refuge to pursue her healing in secret. When wicked whispers threaten, they must fight a jealous rival and tradition to secure their future.
