by Sara Orwig
“The voyage is over,” he stated.
Members of the crew mounted horses to ride ahead and behind the carriage which was taking Josh and Lianna to their destination. Fletcher and another sailor named Simms drove the carriage. It was the first time since that fateful night so long ago that Lianna had shared close quarters with Josh. She smoothed the brown cloak over her green silk dress, keeping her gaze on her clothing, on her hands, out the window, anywhere away from him. In spite of her cool manner, she was acutely conscious of his elegant brown leather breeches and brown coat. His white shirt had cuffs that fell over wrists as hard as iron. And her heart hadn’t calmed since the first moment Josh had entered the carriage. She fought the urge, yet was irresistibly drawn to glance at him.
Her breath stopped as she discovered his unwavering gaze focused on her. Sparks danced along her veins, and she locked her fingers together in her lap.
Josh said, “We’ll soon reach Santiago and our home. Once there, you’re to speak Spanish.”
“And how will you prevent me from betraying you?” she asked coolly, yielding to the temptation to ruffle his composure and aware that he assessed her brazenly.
“You won’t, if you want to return to England. And to Edwin.”
In spite of the bitterness in his voice, the constant, dull anger in her, she felt the tension pull between them, an invisible current that burned in the air.
“If you value your life, you won’t betray me,” he continued dryly. “Señora, I know how deceiving you can be.” Cold eyes sliced into her heart as she blushed from his stinging words. A corner of his mouth lifted in a sardonic grin. “You never lack bravery. You’ve tempted, provoked, and defied me. You’re damned fortunate not to be at the bottom of the sea.”
“Instead, I’m riding into a revolution with a bloodthirsty pirate who cares nothing for me. I wonder if I’ll ever see England.”
“You—afraid?”
“I cannot imagine you mourning my loss!”
To her amazement, his expression changed. Something flickered in his eyes and he leaned forward, so close, breathtakingly near. His voice was husky as he said, “I’ll get you back to England. I promise.”
She held her breath. His lips were near and the ache she felt almost made her moan.
He jerked back, sinking into a corner of the carriage and turning to look out a window.
Lianna did the same, but emotions seethed like a boiling kettle. She stole a quick glance and saw his fist clenched upon his knee. She stared at the whitened knuckles, and shock waves struck her that he might be drawn as irresistibly as she.
Then she reminded herself that he had been many long months at sea and he would feel the same in the presence of any woman, but she hurt and was torn, wanting to reach for him, wishing it were different between them.
As they rode in silence, the carriage lumbered through small villages with adobe huts lining dusty lanes shaded by eucalyptus trees. The wide brown eyes of curious children stared at the noisy carriage while chickens and an occasional thin mongrel fled from its path. They passed barefoot peasants in bright clothing. Others, dressed in dirty rags, squatted in the dust in front of shacks made of palm fronds.
The carriage traveled a winding road down out of the mountains to a flat plain as they approached Santiago. The town lay beneath snowcapped Andes mountains, their jagged peaks glinting whitely in the sunlight. For miles on either side of the road fields of sunflowers stretched out of sight, blossoms raised toward the sun, their golden petals contrasting with the distant blue-shadowed slopes of mountains beyond the town.
Like a sea of gold surrounding the carriage, the brilliance of the flowers lifted Lianna’s spirits. She gasped with delight. “Josh, look how beautiful! Miles of golden flowers like the buttercups at home!”
He drew his breath sharply when she addressed him as Josh. Sunshine bathed her face, half-turned so that he could see the dark fringe of her lashes, the faint pink on the curve of her cheek, and he ached to reach out and touch her. After all these months, when he had been congratulating himself on forgetting her, in a few short hours’ time he was as deeply ensnared as ever. He had promised her freedom when they returned to England, but he questioned his own motives now. England was far away; if they were landing on English soil now, he knew he wouldn’t want to let her go! On impulse he signaled Fletcher to stop the carriage.
Knowing he was a fool, and hopelessly lost with love for her, Josh dashed into the field and snapped off blossoms. He laid the bouquet in her lap. “Para ti, con todo mi amor,” he said mockingly, his words taunting himself more than Lianna. He wanted to crush her in his arms and shower her with kisses.
She blushed, emotions swirling within. While she was aware of the falsity of his words, the Spanish rolled softly off his tongue in his deep baritone voice, sending a message that made her tingle from head to toe. She couldn’t understand him. He had just railed at her with his biting comments, then had jumped blithely from the carriage to pick a bouquet of wildflowers for her while the whole entourage waited. Captain Josh Raven was a complex man. She gathered up the blooms as he slammed shut the door and the carriage began to roll.
“Thank you,” she said. “They’re beautiful!”
“Don’t breathe deeply—their beauty lies in their color, not their fragrance. They’re not what they seem when you get close.”
She gazed into glacial eyes, certain his words mirrored his feelings for her.
In Santiago, along the wide central Plaza de Armas, they passed the yellow stucco Governor’s Palace. “There’s the Church de San Francisco, built over two hundred years ago by the conquistador Pedro de Valdivia,” Josh explained.
She looked at the red Spanish church, then turned to meet Josh’s smoldering gaze.
“And now,” she said bitingly, “I’m Doña Lianna, Marquesa de Aveiro.”
“Sí, and once we leave this carriage, we must speak only Spanish unless we’re in complete privacy,” he said harshly. “I think it would be safer if you take another name, something less unusual.”
“Whatever you say, sir,” she answered too sweetly.
“Lita is close enough. Is that acceptable?”
“None of this is acceptable,” she snapped, and he drew a sharp breath.
“Lita it is,” he stated, unperturbed by her answer. “Also, once we arrive, my men will take up varying positions. Fletcher will be a butler, Simms a groomsman.”
He turned to look out the window. “There’s the new La Moneda Palace, the mint. And there’s the prison.”
The harsh note jarred her as they passed a building with a facade broken by deeply recessed arched windows secured by iron grillwork. While the wide double doors were elaborately carved and painted a pale blue, they couldn’t hide the cold lines of the building. Its shadow fell across the lane and over the carriage, momentarily a cloud on a sunny day.
They turned down another dusty lane, Avenida Real, where elegant homes presented a solid front to the world. Red tile roofs showed above tall trees, the houses half-hidden by green foliage and solid, massive walls. In front of sun-faded yellow plaster walls, the carriage halted. Josh stared at them, wondering now about his driving ambition to get London society to accept him. The notion was bitter without Lianna, yet he knew he must achieve it if he wanted a future in England. He had memorized the names of three other Englishmen who were playing double parts just as he, posing as Spaniards. Two in particular, he was to find as soon as he was settled. There was an English earl who had a taste for adventure, Lord Timothy Paddington, who posed as Don Alfredo Todaro. The other was an English duke, his grace, the Duke of Brenthaven, who posed as Don Gerado Davio.
He had more than a dozen other names memorized, members of their staffs, Spanish and Creole men who intended to play a part in the revolution. Miranda had been persuasive, and many Englishmen were eager to help.
Brenthaven was a deep believer in human rights. Another Englishman, Lord John Bannister, had been a brief acquaintance
Josh had met through William Craine. What a dull victory it would be without Lianna’s love! Yet the nagging knowledge of his father’s causing him to be excluded everywhere always strengthened his determination to win over the Englishmen’s respect.
Josh alighted and offered his hand, their first physical contact in months. The moment their fingers met, Lianna’s fascination with the new land dwindled to nothing as every nerve became aware of the tall man before her, his large fingers holding her slender ones.
He dropped her hand to take her arm, and the touch burned through her sleeve. She walked with Josh through doors opening onto the zagúan, a long hallway. Off the hallway she glimpsed a salon and paused in surprise. French chairs, as handsome and delicate as any she had encountered in England, covered in pastel shades of damask, sat beneath oil paintings. On thick plastered white walls gilt mirrors ran from the floor to the high cedar ceiling that was carved ornately in baroque style, different from her home with its bare floors and sparse furniture.
“Do you like it?” Josh asked politely in Spanish, but his eyes were full of curiosity.
“It’s beautiful, so different from my home.”
A frown replaced his curious stare as they moved on. Josh watched her closely, and he hurt with a slow-grinding, steady pain that their arrival hadn’t been different. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at the house, and he could tell she was impressed with its beauty. He wondered about her Wiltshire home and childhood that must have been cold and devoid of love. It made him want to shelter her and give her whatever he could to keep the sparkle in her eyes, yet he knew how foolish he was being. She loved Edwin Stafford and she wanted free of her marriage, and the sooner he learned to adjust and accept the knowledge, the better off he would be.
While they walked through the rooms, Lianna discovered the house formed a square, with all inner rooms opening onto a courtyard with fragrant jasmine, Indian laurel, banana trees, palms, and graceful fountains. Around the second floor was a corridor overlooking the courtyard.
“This is so lovely!” Lianna gasped in her fluent Spanish while she took in the bougainvillea growing rampant along balcony columns, spilling its paper-thin yellow blossoms in a spectacular display. Climbing copihue, with bell-shaped red flowers, entwined a tall palm. “It’s a wonder world!” she exclaimed, suddenly wondering what her life would have been if she hadn’t insisted that she loved Edwin.
“So, you can be pleased somewhere in the world other than your precious England.”
“Yes, of course I can,” she answered quietly, and saw a cynical arch to his brows.
The staff waited in the large kitchen, lined up like an army of servants. Mestizos with brown skin and large brown eyes were soft-spoken as they welcomed the master and mistress of the house. Josh took charge quietly and efficiently, as he had aboard his ship.
He escorted Lianna upstairs to their bedrooms, two rooms with a connecting door, each room opening onto the corridor overlooking the courtyard.
With white walls and a dado of inlaid blue and white tiles, Lianna’s room was the smaller of the two, but she loved it immediately. Sunny and light, the room had intricately carved cypress furniture; the four-poster bed stood high enough from the floor to require a small step stool.
Josh waited in the doorway, then moved near to Lianna. “Your hair shouldn’t be hidden beneath a bonnet,” he said in a deep voice, untying the ribbon and tossing the hat on the bed.
“Thank you,” she answered quietly, fighting the urge to place her hands lightly upon his chest. “Don’t you fear some of the Spaniards might have known Don Cristóbal?”
“No, our plans have been well laid. We have spies.”
“And now, am I to be a prisoner in this house as I was on El Feroz?” she asked, her thoughts running in a jumbled confusion of why she was so drawn to him. Was she that starved for love?
He nodded. “Aye, for a time. If I see I can trust you”—he waved his hand—“then you may go elsewhere. Otherwise, you’ll remain home.”
Her gaze went past him to the ornately carved bed in his room, and she imagined Josh stretched upon it.
He followed her gaze. “You’ll have privacy, but for both our sakes, I must have freedom to move around. The door won’t be locked.” His eyes raked her insolently. “Your body will be safe,” he drawled.
She stepped back as if he had delivered a blow. “You’re blinded by your anger, Josh! I didn’t tell you sooner about my Spanish mother because I was afraid of your deep hatred of anything Spanish.”
“You’ve known from the first night that my quarrel is solely with the Marcheno family.” Quietly he added, “I’m blinded, all right! Sometimes I think in Portsmouth I received a mortal wound.”
“How can you say that?” she could barely ask, as all her breath was taken by his answer.
“Perhaps we both did, Lianna, in different ways.”
A knock interrupted them. Josh stepped into his room and closed the door while Lianna turned to face a slender young maid whom she had met earlier in the kitchen.
The girl curtsied. “Buenos días, Señora Alveiro. Yo soy Madryn Huancayo. Do you want the trunks unpacked?”
“Sí, Madryn. Muchas gracias,” Lianna replied, wishing she could have continued her discussion with Josh while she puzzled over what he had said. Josh blinded in Portsmouth? Could he still want her? Or was he merely starved for any female and blinded by something physical? She stared at his closed door and wondered what was in his heart.
By the time Lianna descended the stairs to eat, she felt refreshed. With word from a servant that Don Cristóbal had gone out, she dined alone and afterward strolled through the house, exploring the rest of the rooms, wondering what kind of home Josh had grown up in. It must have been even more elegant and larger than this one, as he hadn’t seemed to give his surroundings much notice today. And her home—what had become of it? She entered a library which was disappointing to her because it held few books and most of those were ancient ones Lianna had already read: The room was long with a beamed ceiling and white walls which ran halfway down to meet squares of colorful tiles. At one end of the room was a massive curved fireplace; its mantelpiece held a pair of tall gold candlesticks. Lianna selected a book. As she turned, she glimpsed one of the maids stepping swiftly out of sight in the hall.
Lianna hurried into the empty hallway, but saw no one. Was she spied upon by someone for Josh? Or was it someone for the Spanish government? The only certainty was that Lianna was sure someone had been at the door.
When she went upstairs to bed, she paused beside the connecting door. Unbidden memories taunted her. She remembered Josh’s husky laughter, his quiet competence at sea—and she acknowledged a deep-running longing. If she had controlled her reaction to seeing Edwin, would Josh have grown to love her and she to love him? She closed her eyes, feeling an all-consuming loss.
She dressed in a high-necked white gown and climbed into bed. While she lay there unable to fall asleep, the connecting door opened and yellow light from Josh’s room spilled into the darkness.
20
“What are you doing here?” Lianna sat up, pulling the covers up to her chin as her breath caught in her throat.
Josh’s coat was gone, his cravat untied, the ends dangling loosely.
“I intend to sleep in this room. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Why?”
“I explained to you how much is at stake. These men will allow nothing to stand in the way of their ambition for power. We have to look the part we’re playing. If I slept in one room, and my beautiful young wife in here, it would be a subject for speculation and gossip. I want to avoid any undue attention, therefore we share a room.”
“How will anyone know?”
“There are spies everywhere. The maids will know in the morning when they come to clean our rooms.”
He stood watching her. Vaguely she wondered if he could hear her heart pound. In the shadowy room his features were dark, his expression unreadable. Th
e silence wasn’t broken until he turned his back abruptly.
Lianna lay down. His reasoning made sense, as it always did, but how could she sleep with him only a few feet away? A rustle made her turn her head.
Josh slipped off his shirt; moonlight highlighted the rippling musculature of his back, and at the sight of his bare torso, desire shook Lianna. He was furious with her; she wasn’t in love with him, yet she’d shared more intimacy with Josh Raven than any other man in her life.
She turned her head, puzzling over her feelings for him. When all had been good between them, he could be more fun than anyone else. He was intelligent, competent, strong—and exciting beyond measure! And even if there hadn’t been love on their wedding night, there had been joy. She had been happier with Josh than ever before in her life. If only…She broke off her thoughts abruptly.
The covers rustled and she stiffened, remembering to the finest detail the healthy male body stretched nearby.
Every turn, each whisper of his movements, sent a sizzling current of awareness along her veins. She lay as stiffly as a block of ice, trying to quell her body’s longings, the searing memories that persisted. Finally she turned and glanced down at him.
Josh lay quietly with his chest rising and falling in regular deep breathing. Lianna wanted to scream with frustration. How could she get through night after night like this? She wondered just how deep his mistrust for her was.
She propped herself up on her elbows to look at him more closely, then silently pushed back the sheet and stepped out of bed as if irresistibly drawn. She walked the few steps to his side and stood looking down at him.
Josh knew she was beside him, and beneath the covers he clenched his hands into fists and willed his eyes to remain closed. He counted each breath, trying to ignore the faint, sweet scent of rosewater she wore, trying to avoid looking at her bare ankles. If he looked into her blue eyes he would be lost.
Each breath was torture. He reminded himself over and over that she loved another. When she turned to go back to bed, he risked a glimpse. Her midnight hair fell around her shoulders in a cloud, swaying slightly with each step. He saw a slender shapely leg as she climbed into bed. He closed his eyes and tried to think of the three cannon he had to move from El Feroz to the mountains to the patriots. Yet how hard it was to ignore the clamorings of his body, to forget how it felt to have Lianna’s softness beneath him as she cried out in ecstasy.
