Bride By Mistake

by Anne Gracie

  “You have no need. Ramón is good to me.” Her eyes narrowed. “And why is it any of your business what I do, anyway?”

  It was very hard, having Papa’s eyes glittering at her with hostility and suspicion, but the very fact they were Papa’s eyes gave Bella heart. “Perlita, I know we don’t know each other, that we’ve never spoken, or even met, but I’ve known about you since I was a little girl, and you’ve probably always known about me. I’ve lost everyone and—” She broke off. “You’re my sister and I’ve come here to meet you. And to see that you are all right.”

  There was a long silence. Perlita stared, her face pale as marble and, despite the fire, looking just as cold. Then her mouth quivered. “I n-never thought I’d ever hear you say that.”

  “I always wanted a sister,” Isabella said softly. “I was so lonely as a child.”

  Perlita pressed her lips together and shook her head. “You hated me. You used to watch our house from up on the hill, spying on us.”

  “I know,” Isabella admitted. “I was jealous of you.”

  Perlita’s jaw dropped. “Jealous of me? But you were the daughter.”

  “So were you,” Isabella said. “And you were the daughter he loved.”

  Perlita shook her head. “He never once called me his daughter. I was always his little pearl or his pretty one, or simply Perlita, but never, never did he call me—or even refer to me—as his daughter. Not once.”

  Isabella blinked, puzzled. “But he loved you.”

  “He was fond of me, a little.” Perlita shrugged. “But you were the one he truly valued.”

  Isabella’s jaw dropped. “Valued? Papa never valued me. I was never good enough. Nothing I did was ever good enough.”

  The two girls stared at each other, struggling to come to terms with the very different view each had of their shared past. Beside Isabella, Luke sat quietly, absorbing the implications of what each was saying. He was no stranger to the tangle of family connections and misapprehensions.

  A clock on the mantel chimed, and Perlita started and glanced at the time. “Ramón will be here any minute.” She jumped to her feet, looking worried and indecisive. Isabella jumped up looking ready for a fight.

  Luke poured himself another cup of tea. He felt cool and distant, as he did each time Fate ushered in danger.

  Heavy steps sounded on the tiled terra-cotta floor outside. “I— I’ll speak to him,” Perlita said and ran out of the room.

  They heard voices, low at first and then raised in argument.

  “Sit down,” Luke told Isabella who was pacing nervously. “Finish your tea. Have a little cake. They’re delicious.”

  She turned on him. “How can you think of food at a time like this?”

  “Do you want Ramón to know you’re frightened of him?”

  She gave him a startled look, then plunked down on the settee beside him. “I’m not in the least bit frightened of him,” she declared and plastered a haughty, unnaturally calm expression on her face.

  Thirteen

  The door crashed open. Ramón strode into the room. Perlita followed, hovering anxiously.

  Ramón wasn’t particularly tall, but he was built like a bull, with broad shoulders and a deep barrel chest. Dark, with a swarthy complexion, his face was dominated by a large nose and a thick, black mustache. He barely even glanced at Isabella. With his gaze fixed on Luke, Ramón swaggered up to him, planted his feet apart, and said, “So, you walk right into my parlor, Englishman? Are you a fool, then?”

  Luke politely rose to his feet saying pleasantly in English, “And a Fee Fi Fo Fum to you, too, sir.”

  Behind him he heard Isabella choke.

  Luke continued in Spanish. “El Conde de Castillejo, I presume? I am Ripton, Isabella’s husband. How do you do?” He extended his hand.

  “Husband? Not for long.” Ramón made no move to shake Luke’s hand.

  Luke shrugged, sat down again, and bit into another cake. “These are remarkably good,” he commented.

  As Luke had intended, Ramón seemed nonplussed by such behavior. After a minute of glowering and some more huffing and puffing, he boomed, “You stole my treasure.”

  Luke took no notice.

  Ramón’s face grew red.

  Isabella knotted her fingers anxiously.

  Luke finished the cake and dusted the crumbs from his fingers. Then he glanced up and said innocently, “Oh, sorry, were you talking to me? No, I didn’t steal anything.” Red rag to the bull.

  Ramón gave a low growl. “I meant Isabella!”

  “Stop it, Luke. Don’t provoke him,” Isabella whispered.

  Luke smiled. Isabella opened her mouth to argue, but Luke silenced her with a look.

  “Well?” Ramón said in a belligerent voice.

  “Yes, my wife is indeed a treasure.” Luke wiped his fingers with a napkin and added in a cool, silky tone, “But she’s not yours, never was, and never will be.”

  Ramón snorted. “You’re a fool.”

  Luke raised a single brow. “Am I?”

  “To come with your rich young wife to the lair of the wolf alone and unprotected? You must be a fool.”

  Isabella couldn’t restrain herself any longer. She jumped up. “Stop it! Don’t you dare threaten us!”

  Ramón sneered and gestured to the dueling swords. “On my land I do whatever I want, little cousin. And if I want to make you a widow, I will.”

  “Oh, you want to fight like a gentleman, do you?” Luke drawled. “In that case…” The ice was beginning to sing in his veins, as it always did at the prospect of a fight.

  “Luke, he’s not a gentleman,” Isabella said in a low, vehement tone. “He won’t follow any gentlemen’s rules. He has no rules but Ramón’s.”

  “Exactly, little cousin.” Ramón sneered. “Ramón’s land, Ramón’s rules.”

  “No!” She tried to get between them.

  Luke gripped her firmly by the arms and moved her behind him. “Sit there and stay out of the way,” he ordered. “This is men’s business.”

  She whitened but, amazingly, obeyed.

  The ice well and truly singing in his veins now, Luke strolled to the fireplace and plucked one of the crossed swords from above the mantel. “Actually she’s only your second cousin, and twice removed, I believe. I intend to remove her even further, so if you have a burning desire to kill me, you are welcome to try.” He flexed the long blade experimentally.

  Behind him Isabella made a small distressed sound. The timbre of it disturbed Luke. He glanced at her.

  His little fire-eater sat frozen where he’d put her, watching Ramón, small and still as a mouse mesmerized by a snake. Her face was pale and pinched, her golden eyes dark and filled with…

  Luke frowned. He’d never seen her looking like that before. He didn’t like it. He glanced back at Ramón, who was glowering and clenching and unclenching his fists. How could she be frightened of such a fellow? Brute force, he supposed.

  He lightly drew his finger along the edge of the blade. Sharp as a razor. He tested the sword for balance, then swished the blade through the air.

  And from the corner of his eye he saw Isabella flinch. She gave Luke a stricken look, bit down hard on her lower lip, clenched her hands into small fists, and resolutely looked away. With a shock he realized he was the one who’d put that look in her eyes.

  She was frightened for him.

  He froze. For the last seven years he’d embraced any opportunity for a fight, sought out danger, gloried in living on the edge. It was the only thing that calmed, for a brief time, the restlessness, the emptiness that gnawed at him.

  But the look in Isabella’s eyes…

  The singing ice in his veins faded. What the hell was he doing?

  Ramón grabbed the other sword and shifted into a fighting stance. “Prepare to die, Englishman.”

  Isabella rose to her feet and stamped her foot. “I won’t be fought over!” But her voice was high and tremulous, and the desperate sound of
it pierced Luke.

  He dragged his gaze from his wife’s stricken profile. Time to use his brains, stop playing this stupid game—and it was a game. But not to her. And no longer to him. He had a wife now.

  He flexed the blade and said to Ramón, “You are still welcome to try. I am curious, though. How do you imagine my death would benefit you?”

  Ramón laughed. “Are you stupid, Englishman? I would marry Isabella, of course. She is certainly worth fighting over.”

  Perlita gave a distressed little moan, and Ramón’s gaze snapped toward her. “It will make no difference to us, Perla.”

  Perlita hid her face from him and made no response. His brows locked briefly, then he turned back to Luke and his gaze hardened. “Well, Englishman?”

  “Anytime you want. I didn’t realize it was Isabella herself you wanted.”

  “What?”

  “I thought it was her fortune.”

  Ramón frowned. “I want both, of course. The two go together.”

  “Ah, no.” Luke made a practice pass. The thin, deadly blade sliced the air. “There you are mistaken.”

  “Mistaken?”

  “Yes. Isabella comes separate from her fortune.” He pretended to parry. “And when I am dead she will be penniless.”

  “Penniless?” exclaimed Ramón. His thick brows knotted in suspicion.

  “Penniless?” Bella echoed in shock. She stared at Luke. It couldn’t be true.

  Luke met her gaze ruefully. “Penniless,” he confirmed.

  “That cannot be,” Ramón said. “Her mother left her a great—”

  “Fortune, yes, but it all came to me when we married. There were no settlements, you see. It was a marriage made in haste.” He glanced at Ramón. “Your fault, that. Ironic, is it not?” He touched the point of the sword. “Naturally I made a will straightaway. Everything, every penny I own, goes to the support of my mother and younger sister.”

  “Is this true?” Bella stared at Luke with her mouth open.

  “On my honor as a gentleman.” He met her gaze ruefully, and she saw it was true.

  “But what of Isabella?” Ramón demanded.

  “Yes, what of me?” Bella repeated.

  “You will live with my mother and sister, of course. They will take good care of you.”

  Bella could hardly believe her ears. But the look in his face… and the oath he’d sworn. He wouldn’t make that lightly.

  Live with his mother and sister? Be dependent on two strange Englishwomen? She didn’t want to be dependent on anyone. It was her fortune, left to her by her mother. It should come back to her.

  No wonder he wasn’t worried about coming here…

  Ramón was incredulous. “Isabella will have nothing of her own? Nothing? I don’t believe it.”

  Perlita said, “It’s true, Ramón. Look at her face.”

  Ramón looked, then turned to Luke. “That’s monstrous! No provision for your widow?”

  “I am English,” Luke said carelessly. “We do things differently. A rich widow is a target for unprincipled men.” He gave a cold, two-edged smile to Ramón. “But Isabella is a treasure in herself, and no right-minded man would need a bribe to marry her.” He blew Bella a kiss and raised the sword. “So, if you still want to fight for her…”

  Bella blinked. Blowing her a kiss? His eyes were dancing. He was enjoying this!

  With a sudden flash of insight, she realized that her husband wasn’t going to fight at all, that for all his talk and action, he had no intention of fighting Ramón. That it was all a bluff!

  “Nobody will fight for me!” Bella declared, suddenly angry. Neither man even glanced at her. She didn’t know which was worse, the amused expression on her husband’s face or the look of determined greed on Ramón’s. She knew who she wanted to hit, though, and it wasn’t Ramón.

  Ramón glowered. He turned to Isabella. “Did you not negotiate the marriage settlements?”

  Isabella flung him a scornful look. Of course she had not negotiated settlements. She was thirteen and fleeing from her violent pig of a cousin. To Luke she said, “So, you would leave me entirely to your mother’s mercy?”

  “Why not? My mother is very nice,” he assured her.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. Luke smiled, confirming everything she’d thought.

  She bared her teeth at him in what was not exactly a smile. Oh, she would make him pay for this.

  Ramón exploded. “You stupid bitch! Marrying an Englishman without thought or preparation. Dazzled by his pretty face!” He smashed his big meaty fist against the wall, making them all jump. “The money belongs here, here at Valle Verde! And now it’s lost, lost to you and lost to Valle Verde.”

  “And lost to you, which is some compensation, at least,” Isabella said.

  Ramón clenched his fists. “You should have married me! This is what comes of running from your family—you marry a stranger, an Englishman!” He spat.

  “Still better than marrying you!” Isabella flashed.

  “You brainless little slut, he’s not going to look after you. Don’t you understand? When he dies you’ll be penniless, no better than a beggar, dependent on the charity of strangers—”

  “I’d rather be penniless than married to a pig like—”

  Ramón raised his hand.

  And found a sword at his throat. He froze.

  “Lay one finger on my wife and you’re a dead man,” Luke said softly.

  Ramón clenched his fists.

  “I meant every word,” Luke said. A trickle of blood appeared at Ramón’s throat.

  “Please, Ramón,” Perlita begged.

  He glanced at her, and the tension in his big, bull-like body lessened slightly. “I will not touch her,” he growled, and Luke lowered the sword.

  Perlita flew across the room and pressed a handkerchief to the cut on his neck. He brushed her off and turned to Luke. “I do not like being threatened in my own home, Englishman.”

  “I do not like my wife being insulted, Spaniard,” Luke returned coolly.

  The two men glared narrow-eyed at each other for a long, tense moment, then Ramón shrugged. “We shall eat dinner,” he announced, as if nothing had happened. “Perlita?”

  “It-it’s ready,” she said, her voice shaking. She rang a little silver bell.

  Her mother’s bell, Bella noted distantly. Now she was really confused.

  That blood was real. Luke would have killed her cousin if he’d made a move toward her. She’d thought it was all bluff until then, but he really had been prepared to fight for her. She should be deeply flattered. And part of her was.

  But mostly she just wanted to throttle him. She’d never been so frightened in her life.

  “Do you want to wash before we eat?” Perlita asked. She meant relieve her bladder. She’d been frightened, too.

  “Why not?” Bella said. She was full of pent-up energy.

  Perlita hesitated, her gaze drawn to the two men. Ramón stood, arms folded, feet planted wide apart, his back to the room, staring out of the window at his estate. Luke had replaced the sword and resumed his seat, one leg crossed casually over the other, and was inspecting his nails.

  The sight made Bella want to hit him even more.

  “Do you think they should be left alone?” Perlita asked in a low voice.

  “Yes!” Bella snapped. “With any luck they will murder each other and save us the trouble.”

  Perlita gasped in horror. “But—”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Bella told her. “They won’t fight. They have no reason to now. Ramón only wanted me for the money.”

  Perlita considered that and nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  Of course, Bella thought as she followed her out. With a beautiful mistress like Perlita, who would even see Bella? Not that she wanted Ramón.

  Besides, furious as she was with Luke for risking himself, a tiny sliver of foolish feminine flattery kept edging in. He’d offered to fight for her. It made her melt inside, and th
at was confusing, too.

  Never had she dreamed… Never would the other girls in the convent believe it: two men, fighting over Bella Ripton.

  Over her fortune, she reminded herself as she washed her face. Her nonexistent fortune.

  Luke was simply saving himself from being murdered for it. And if he’d explained that in the beginning, it would have saved them all a lot of trouble. And worry.

  She scrubbed crossly at her already clean hands. Men! They just lived to fight.

  His carelessly uttered words kept humming in her breast. Isabella is a treasure in herself. Even if he did not mean it, even if it was just to tease Ramón…

  She tidied her hair and adjusted the neckline of her dress. She glanced at her sister in the looking glass. Perlita’s figure was superb, her breasts lush and abundant.

  Bella was very glad she’d bought the corset, even if it was a little tight. At least she didn’t look like a boy.

  She didn’t feel like a sister, either. She supposed that would come in time, though she wasn’t very hopeful. All those years in the convent when she’d thought about Perlita and worried about her, she hadn’t imagined anyone like this cool, young beauty who treated her with suspicion and thinly veiled hostility.

  All Perlita’s earlier fright had apparently vanished. Her face, as she examined herself in the looking glass, was perfect and serene.

  “You’re amazingly calm,” Bella commented. “Does Ramón do this often? Challenge people to fight, I mean?” Threaten to make them widows. Oh, he was despicable, her cousin.

  Perlita flickered a sidelong glance. “I will not discuss Ramón with you.”

  “But—”

  “He is good to me.”

  “If he was good to you, he would marry you.” Not try to steal other people’s wives.

  Perlita gave her a hard look. “You forget who you are speaking to.”

  Bella touched her sister on the arm. “Just because my father—our father—kept your mother as a mistress does not mean it was right.”

  “My mother had no complaints.” Perlita shook off her hand. “In any case, that was then, this is now, and Ramón and I, we are not your business.” She dampened her fingertip and smoothed the perfect arch of one eyebrow.