Life had not been dull since leaving the convent, Madelon thought. She had been reunited with Paco and almost lost him again in death. She had come close to being sold into slavery or a Moorish harem and a Moslem prince had wanted to buy her. Behind her were years of unhappiness - ahead lay the court of her cousins. She need never look back on those terrible years again.
She stood drinking in the beauty of the dawn as the darkness slipped away from the heavens and the sun slowly rose into view, tinting the clouds a delicate shade of pink. With a heavy sigh she hugged her arms about her and lifting her face to the pale sky she closed her eyes. How wonderful it was to feel the wind on her face. She was free... free... free...
The man watching her from the other end of the battlements caught his breath as the wind stirred her hair so that it played out around her shoulders. She looked like some pagan goddess about to offer up a prayer to the sunrise. In the half-light her face was pale, almost ethereal, and there was a faint smile on her features as she dwelt on thoughts he knew nothing of and probably never would. The first rays of sunlight streamed down on to the plateau. Sunshine merged with the blonde hair and softly-coloured dress of the girl and for an instant, before a cloud obscured the sun, she stood bathed in a golden glow of light. Then suddenly she shivered and the spell was broken.
"The morning air is inclined to be cold at these heights, Dona Madelon," Valentin said, stepping forward. "Take my cloak if you intend to stay out here."
Not waiting for an answer he flung the green velvet cloak he had been wearing around her shoulders and fastened the gold chain beneath her throat.
"Thank you." Madelon wondered how long he had been watching her and why he had followed her in the first place.
"I have come this way to reach my own rooms," he said, reading her thoughts. She had noticed before he seemed to achieve this easily and with remarkable accuracy. "I too like to watch the dawn. I prefer to see it from here than from the battlefield where I always find myself wondering if it will be my last day."
"Somehow I don't think you are afraid of death," Madelon said.
"Of death? No. Of the manner in which I die - that is a different matter," Valentin returned quickly and she realized he had a fear of dying like his father and brother, betrayed by treachery. She nodded understandingly. Valentin leaned back against the stone balustrade beside her, his eyes intent on the sun rising as he asked, "Why were you looking so solemn just now?"
"Was I?"
"Are you feeling guilty because you have been enjoying yourself, while your brother lies ill?"
"Yes." It was partly the truth, Madelon thought and it might stop him from questioning her further.
"My dear child, forget him. He's done more than his fair share of enjoying life with your cousin Urraca over the past two years while you were entombed in that damned convent." At the blank look on Madelon's face, he added, "I don't suppose that kind of gossip ever reached you. I still don't understand why such a lovely creature chose to live that way instead of marrying."
"In my case, marriage or entombment, amounted to the same thing. You did not see the man my father wanted me to marry," Madelon replied, her face wrinkling into a grimace.
"Rebecca did enlighten me on some of the facts. But what did his age matter, or if he was as ugly as sin, men would still have flocked around you as bees to honey, whether you were wed or not?"
Madelon stared at him with growing amazement. The open mockery in his expression stirred her to spring to her own defence. Coldly she said:
"If you mean I should have taken a husband and a lover, I consider the suggestion insulting, Don Valentin. You don't have a very high opinion of women, do you?"
Valentin gave a low, amused laugh.
"I know your sex too well and I don't endow them with saintly virtues they don't possess. Beauty and innocence - both of which you appear to have, go well together, but I'm inclined to regard anyone possessing them with suspicion. Doubtless you have been told many times you are an attractive young woman. In a short space of time you have not only Rodrigo falling at your feet, but my mother too. She's got it firmly fixed in her head that Dona Urraca has special plans for you,"
"It's true my cousin has taken an interest in me," Madelon confessed, "but to read any ulterior motive into her actions is unjust and despicable."
Valentin's eyes gleamed at the cross look on her face.
"I prefer you when you are angry. The little-girl pose drops and then I have a glimpse of the real you."
Madelon felt a chill of fear run through her. For some reason he distrusted her. It involved both Paco and Urraca. Madelon knew little about her cousins, only of the great love Urraca held for her brother, Alfonso, and she supposed Paco had spoken of their own close relationship and so forged a common bond between them all. Of his personal life, Paco had said nothing and she had not had the time to question him on it before their journey was so rudely and unpleasantly interrupted.
"What did you mean about my brother and cousin Urraca?" she asked in a disapproving tone.
"Why don't you ask him - if you don't already know?" Valentin retorted.
She turned to face him, her lips quivering slightly. Whether it was from anger, or distress, he was not sure and it was not important. Spy or innocent dupe - whore or angel, she was the most exciting woman he had ever met and he wanted her. The realization so shocked him he could only stand and stare into her lovely face and wonder at this woman who had entered his life so forcefully.
"Your insinuation that there is an unpleasant liaison between Paco and my cousin is in bad taste," Madelon said. "I demand you withdraw your words, or explain them."
"Your cousin collects men as enthusiastically as I collect horses and I have a stable full below. Does that answer you?"
He saw her eyes cloud with pain and felt his heart lurch unsteadily. Was he wrong after all? It was true she had been reared in seclusion, but that did not necessarily mean she was an innocent. He remembered when Urraca had been given the lordship of several monasteries instead of lands by her father, Ferdinand, first King of Leon and Emperor of Castile, she had been so disgusted with the life he intended she should lead, she had threatened to give herself to any man who took her fancy. To Moors, who would have to pay gold - to Christians for nothing. She had retired to one of the monasteries taking with her a large collection of women attendants and courtiers and had held such scandalous courts behind the dignified walls that Ferdinand, in desperation, had also given her the town of Zamora. Urraca's behaviour afterwards, though no less scandalous, at least did not profane the sancity of holy ground. And these two women were cousins, Valentin thought to himself. He had known many women, most of them attractive in one way or another, but only towards one had he ever felt affection. He had never been in love and cared too much about his freedom to be worried by the fact.
"Are you saying my brother is one of Urraca's lovers?"
Madelon asked in a small voice. It could not be true - he could not be her father all over again. And yet why not - they were of the same blood. So was she ...
"She has nurtured him for the past two years. He was a captain when she first took an interest in him - in a very short while he was promoted. Now he has command of four times as many men. He is entrusted with secret missions by Alfonso and he has his own apartments - in the royal palace at Burgos directly below those of your cousin. Most of her lovers last only a few months - one lasted a whole year. Your brother has kept her favours for double that time. I wonder why? What does he have to do to earn them, ask yourself that? Why, after all these years has she suddenly taken an interest in you? Why not three years ago? She saw you at court then, didn't she?"
Madelon nodded mutely. She had no answers to his questions and was growing terribly afraid. Had her future been planned for her after all? Was she not as free as she believed? No, it was not the truth. Stubbornly she fought down the urge to believe that Paco had deliberately tricked her. If anyone was trying to do that, it was th
e man before her.
"You seem to be remarkably well informed of my brother's personal life," she said scornfully.
"The information came from Rodrigo Diaz originally. He was sent by our king to make arrangements for the tournaments at Golpejerra. He grew up with the infantas, you must know that?"
Madelon nodded. That much she did know.
"I have little inclination to trust his word, or that of a man who forsakes his own kind for the friendship of a Moorish prince," she answered bleakly and then, spurred on recklessly by the sardonic twist to his mouth, "Perhaps the friendship is merely a facade to cover the true nature of your relationship. Who is your real master, my Lord of the Eagles? The King of Castile, under whose banner you profess to fight, or Yusuf, Prince of Telhan? You speak so often to me of treachery. I accuse you of it."
Valentin straightened, his green eyes glittering with a strange light. She expected anger, but none came. There was no expression on his face. It was like a stone mask, inscrutable .... frightening.
He moved towards her, his eyes intent on her ashen face, and Madelon became aware, once again, of their strange compulsion. She knew she had gone too far. She wanted to turn and run, but she was rooted to where she stood, as if held by heavy chains. Reaching out his hand, Valentin touched her cheeks with his fingers, then her hair. His caress was as light as a breath of wind.
"And I accuse you of not being the innocent you seem, little golden savage. Once and for all I am going to prove I'm right about you."
In a choked-off voice Madelon heard herself cry out.
"Don't. Please don't touch me."
Her plea fell on deaf ears. One of Valentin's arms closed around her waist and she was held immobile. His free hand fastened at the nape of her neck, forcing back her head to take possession of her mouth. He ground his lips into hers with the same cruelty as he had used once before until she stopped resisting him and went limp in his arms. Then they were no longer cruel, but unbelievably gentle, exploring hers with the expertise of a man knowledgeable in the ways of women. In that moment Madelon knew she was lost. He took possession not only of her lips, but her body too. She could hardly breathe - she felt drugged - unable to think for herself - only obey the command of the man who held her. The silent command to surrender and belong to him.
Her fingertips touched his velvet doublet and then tightened about his shoulders as something wild, almost primitive was unleashed inside her. She heard herself moan softly as he rained kisses on her face and neck and was ashamed of her lack of control, but she was helpless against the fire rapidly consuming her body - against the overwhelming desire to submit to the ecstasy of the moment.
Valentin was murmuring endearments in her ear as he caressed her body beneath the cloak and Madelon was brought almost to insensibility with the pleasure his touch brought, when she suddenly remembered the last man who had paid attention to her. Not in this fashion, but a friend, who might have become more. It had been the unfortunate Captain Rodriguez, who had died defending her serving women from Mahmud's raiders. The memory was enough to shock her back to reality.
She looked up into Valentin's face and instantly grew rigid in his embrace as she saw his eyes. She had been lured into something false - almost disastrous by the touch of his hands and the sound of his voice whispering tender words no man had ever said before - but his eyes were cold, calculating, watching her as she allowed herself to be drawn towards the brink of disaster. Disaster for her - and triumph for him. Deliberately he had set out to entrap her, and succeeded.
Releasing her he stood silent. The colour ebbed from Made-Ion's cheeks leaving them ashen, only to flood back again in a scarlet wave as he said heavily,
"My God, I was right. You are the angel of destruction."
His words broke the last remaining threads of Madelon's composure and she struck him across his marble features.
Deliberately Valentin raised his hand and struck her across both cheeks. The blows rocked her on her feet, but she knew they had been controlled. She had felt his strength before and she knew if he had wanted to, he could have slapped her to the ground with ease. A humourless smile touched Valentin's lips at her shocked expression.
"Like the Moors, I consider wilfulness in a woman should be curbed. In your case, perhaps it was little more than an outburst of childish temper, but the lesson to be learned is the same. If it matters at all, I believe you now," he said, stepping back from her. "There is not the slightest possibility of Urraca using you the way I suspected - you don't have the talent for it."
And with that parting shot he left her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It did not seem long to Madelon that she had closed her eyes, before a whirlwind invaded her room in the form of Teresa Maratin. While she lay dazedly trying to gather her senses, Teresa unbarred the shutters from the windows and flooded the room with sunshine. With a groan Madelon buried her head beneath the bedclothes, but they were immediately pulled away again.
"Don't go back to sleep, I want you to come and see my wedding clothes. You did promise, remember?" Teresa asked gaily, throwing herself on the bed with such force Madelon thought it would collapse. She nodded and said she did recall the promise, but she didn't. There was only one thing she remembered from the previous evening and die memory of it made her grow hot with shame.
"Have you been crying?" Teresa asked, staring at the other girl's red-rimmed eyes. "I suppose you are still worried about your brother, but there's no need, honestly. Please don't upset yourself over him any more, Madelon, he's getting well and mother and I so want you to enjoy your stay here."
I could, Madelon thought miserably, if only your insufferable brother would leave me alone. She sat up, smoothing back her dishevelled hair and forced a smile to her stiff features.
"I am enjoying myself - it's just that - well, I suppose I was overtired last night."
"You watched the sun come up, didn't you?" Teresa asked, her grey eyes growing wide with amusement
"Why, yes, I did. How did you know?"
"I'll show you." Madelon climbed out of bed and followed
Teresa to the window. The latter pointed to the tower at the far end of the battlements. "My room is over there. I have the same view as you almost."
Madelon looked down and saw the spot where she had been the night before. A man was standing directly in her line of vision, a hooded eagle resting on the wide leather strap around his left wrist. Before she could move out of sight, Valentin looked up and saw her framed in the window embrasure in only her nightdress, her hair streaming down over the rich abundance of lace concealing her breasts.
Teresa leaned out to talk to him, giving Madelon the chance to step back. How dare he looked at her so boldly. What did he think she was? Paco - please hurry and get well, she thought distractedly. I must get away from this place. The thought of another incident like the last one brought her almost to the hint of panic.
"Why, Madelon, you are blushing." Teresa was looking at her and laughing. "Valentin wants us to join him. Shall I wait for you?"
"No. I mean - I don't feel very energetic this morning. Go down without me, perhaps I will join you later when I have visited my brother," Madelon replied. Nothing on earth would induce her to spend more time than was necessary in Valentin's detestable company.
"What an idiot I am. You want to be alone with him," Teresa murmured.
"What!" Madelon was astounded by the girl's words. "Whatever put that idea into your head?"
"You are forgetting the view from my window. I saw you with him last night. I went to bed feeling very happy."
"You retired a little too early, or you would have seen me slap his face," Madelon said. "I'm sorry, Teresa, but your brother, far from being attracted to me, considers me one of the lowest creatures on earth. The feeling is mutual, believe me." At the look of dismay on Teresa's face, she hastened to soften the blow. "Perhaps I exaggerate a little, but we could never be anything other than friends. We have different allegiance
s to begin with, besides, your brother is to marry his ward isn't he?"
"Raquel? Ugh!" Teresa pulled a most unladylike face. "That ended long ago. Valentin made her father a promise to take care of her and marriage was the only way he could really carry it out. He thought as we all did, that Raquel needed taking care of. We soon found how wrong we were. There was some kind of scandal after she had been at court only a few weeks and Valentin was forced to kill a man who insulted her. She deserved it, mind you, but there was nothing else he could do. After that he gave her an allowance on the condition she never came back here. You'll probably see her at Golpejerra. Just look for the woman who has the most men around her and that will be Raquel."
Will it? Madelon wondered. If she was to believe all she had been told, the woman would be her cousin Urraca.
"Does it make any difference to you and Valentin?" Teresa asked hopefully and was disappointed when Madelon shook her head. "It's a pity, you would be good for him. He needs a strong woman, someone as stubborn as he is."
What would he do with a stubborn woman, Madelon wondered, beat her with a whip when she argued with him?
Teresa stayed with her while Diya dressed her mistress, talking of the fabulous array of materials which had arrived that morning from Yusuf. They were part of his wedding gifts to the betrothed couple and were accompanied by a small, silver casket containing an assortment of aromatic perfumes, a string of flawless pearls and a magnificent stallion for the prospective groom.
When she went to join her brother, Madelon quickly made her excuses and went towards Pace's room. He was in one not unlike her own propped up in bed and looking greatly improved. Madelon threw herself into his arms and cried tears of relief until Paco put her from him with an astonished look on his face.
"Were you that worried about me, little one?"
"Of course I was. When those horrible men first took us
I thought you would die. If we hadn't been rescued, I think you would have bled to death before my very eyes. Oh, Paco!"
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