by Tina Donahue
He seemed pensive, not alarmed, and looked astonishingly handsome. His doublet and robe were a dark green, like the heavy forests on his estate. One leg of his hose was white, the other had alternating stripes of black and a pale rose. The pinkish tint reminded her of a new sunrise. With combed hair and a fresh shave, he presented an image of the powerful noble he was. His forelock seemed to mark him even further as being superior to others.
What an image of male authority and beauty he presented, though Sancha preferred his hair tousled, face shadowed with whiskers, muscular body naked. How wanton she’d become in such a short time, wanting the formalities of their union at an end, guests departed, leaving her and Enrique to their bed.
She suppressed a sigh and smiled instead, hoping she appeared cordial rather than yearning or pained.
Enrique joined her. After kissing her cheek, he pressed his mouth to her ear. “You look exquisite.”
She’d worn one of the few grand gowns she brought to Fernando’s castle before coming here. A gift from Isabella who’d always said her eldest sister dressed too simply. Of the finest red silk, the garment had a gold embroidered kirtle and jeweled undersleeves.
She would have preferred a maid’s clothing and an evening at the pond with Enrique after a hard day studying or tending the ill.
She squeezed his hands, his warm, hers icy, and spoke in his ear. “Is all well?”
“We have nothing to fear. Trust me.”
She searched his eyes, hoping he wasn’t trying to spare her new worry or grief.
He met her gaze honestly, longing mingled with determination. The kind a man has when preparing himself for a battle he intends to win.
She hoped the fight now wasn’t between him and Dominico. She pressed her cheek to Enrique’s to keep the priest from overhearing. “How much have you told him?”
“Merely of Luscinda’s jealousy and your reluctance to wed until you met me. Nothing else. I will protect you to my dying breath.”
His assurance brought tears to her eyes. Her secret was theirs to face together, not hers alone. With those words, he’d fully delivered his heart and future to her. At another time, she would have been reckless with joy. Not tonight. She worried about Dominico. He may have been Enrique’s dear friend, but he was still a priest.
And quite homely.
Poor man.
He had not an ounce of fat on his tall, scrawny frame. His nose was large, teeth long, hair thin and already balding. However, his smile was warm and quite beautiful, enhanced by two dimples as Enrique brought her over to meet him.
“My dear,” Dominico said before anyone else could speak. “You must be the señorita who enchanted Enrique.”
Her smile froze at his word choice. Enchanted, as in spells and witchcraft. Thankfully, she recovered before he noticed her distress. “I hope I am.” She regarded Enrique, feigning confusion. “Would there be another woman you intend to wed, leaving me to plot her end so I might have you?”
Dominico laughed heartily. “Your señorita has spirit, Enrique. How wonderful.” He spoke to her. “Sancha, no?”
Rather than take her hand, he gave her an enthusiastic hug. Her hands floated in air before she embraced him in return, thankful he hadn’t had an opportunity to kiss her fingers and notice how icy they were.
Dominico released her and turned to Enrique. “Leave us.”
He stared. “What?”
“I need to hear Sancha’s confession, then yours before the nuptials. Go on. I will hear hers first.” He gestured Enrique to the door.
Sancha’s stomach fell.
Enrique didn’t move. “She has nothing to confess. No woman has ever been as perfect. Giving. Loving.”
Dominico smiled at Sancha. “You sound delightful.”
She wasn’t certain whether to laugh or flee.
Enrique crossed his arms over his chest. “Confession is not a requirement of you joining us. Why do you seek to delay me in wedding this magnificent woman? Are you jealous of what I have?”
Dominico leaned toward Sancha. “Enrique has changed greatly since we were young boys. Is he always so disagreeable now?” He smacked Enrique’s chest. “Have you done something that will shock me if you confess?” He grinned. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Enrique offered Sancha his hand. “He wants to brighten his dull life. Come. Neither of us is telling him anything of our love.”
“Pity.” Dominico bounced gently on his heels. “I hoped to enjoy myself tonight.”
“Get as drunk as you want, eat until you burst, chase after the servant girls, take the lot of them to one of the rooms to—”
“What?” Sancha looked from one man to the other.
Dominico’s gaunt face had already turned bright red. “Enrique jests.”
She hoped so. Although she knew some priests were married or had mistresses, overall the Church hardly tolerated holy men chasing women.
Enrique touched her hand. “Forgive me for getting carried away.”
He hadn’t though, because that wasn’t like him, and she suddenly realized as much. Masterfully, he’d changed the subject from confession to Dominico’s sexual appetite, moving the attention off himself and her to his friend.
How brilliant he was.
The men bantered without stop. Enrique goaded the worst, moving the converse further from her until he and Dominico seemed to have forgotten she was in the same room. They spoke of childhood antics, fishing, riding, and no end of male pursuits. Sancha listened happily, ignored, and relaxed at last.
The door flew open. In strode Tomás and Pedro, both grinning.
Enrique scowled at Tomás. “Have you ever heard of knocking before invading a man’s private domain? No, wait. What a foolish question. You have yet to learn to use a napkin at your meals, rather than your hand or sleeve.”
Tomás crossed the room to Sancha and took her hand. “You are exquisite. Brighter than the sun, more breathtaking than the moon, fresher than the—”
“Enough.” Enrique pushed his youngest brother aside and slipped his arm around her waist. “None of us want to waste the rest of our lives listening to you babble.”
“I do.” Dominico glanced at everyone. “I was hoping to hear what Sancha was fresher than.”
Tomás threw his arms open in a grand gesture. “The very air we breathe. She is—”
“Laughing at you,” Pedro said.
All eyes turned to her. Her face flushed hot with laughter and embarrassment. Sobering quickly, she cleared her throat. “Forgive me.” Her shoulders trembled with new giggles she found difficult to suppress. She wasn’t certain if relief, lingering anxiety, or joy at having the chance to spend her life with Enrique caused her emotions. “I enjoy how you tease each other.”
“We like you too.” Tomás pulled her from Enrique’s embrace so he could hug her. “Best wishes on your marriage to my brother. You will need them.”
She laughed throatily.
Pedro embraced her next, less forcefully than Tomás had, and added a chaste kiss on her cheek. “How lovely you are. Are you very happy?”
So much, she found speech difficult. She nodded.
Tomás smiled. “My brothers are dropping like flies when it comes to matrimony. Poor fools.”
“Take care.” Enrique offered a smug smile. “Your turn may be next.”
“Tomás would have to settle on one girl first.” Pedro shrugged. “He has so many.”
Sancha snickered, unable to help herself.
Blushing, Tomás gestured to everyone. “Is this the extent of the wedding party?”
“We could always invite the servants if you want a crowd,” Enrique said.
Tomás inclined his head to Dominico. “And have this one scare the prettiest girls away?” He hugged the man, both grinning.
Pedro also gave the priest a fervent welcome.
“Someday,” Tomás said, “we need to have these ceremonies when Is
abella and Sancha are both in attendance.” He gave her a stern look. “You keep missing each other’s nuptials.”
She laughed despite her disappointment that Isabella couldn’t be here. Sancha had spent the day writing a long letter to her sister, explaining events, promising they would visit soon. She’d also penned a missive to her sisters at court and Rupert, telling him of her nuptials, new home with Enrique, and that her husband would now handle all matters at her estate. Taking care with her phrasing, she’d also asked Rupert to send word if anyone needed her. He’d know she meant the peasants she’d sworn to treat.
How she’d continue to do so until the rumors died down, she had no idea. Nor did she know how long she’d have to wait for matters to return to normal, allowing her to visit the villages freely again. She hoped the delay wouldn’t be more than a few weeks, possibly a month or two. Surely, not years. So many could die or suffer permanent injuries without her care.
Enrique must have sensed her renewed foreboding and sadness. He slung his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “We are well on our way to a grand future.”
“As soon as we get to the chapel.” Dominico glanced at the group. “Shall we proceed with this?”
Enrique led the way, his hand firmly around hers, offering comfort and protection, the same as the small room they entered.
The chapel boasted stained glass windows, several pews, a simple altar, the crucifix and statues of the holy mother Mary and saints. To the side were votive candles, each lit and shining brightly.
Dominico’s eyes rounded at the flames. “Someone has been praying mightily, petitioning God for His good favor.” He glanced from Enrique to Sancha.
She wasn’t about to confess. Hopefully, God would answer her entreaties. She’d begged for His mercy before she’d joined Dominico and Enrique in the study.
Enrique leveled his gaze on his friend. “Make fast work of this. No need to go through all the pomp.”
Tomás and Pedro chuckled.
Dominico folded his hands in front. “Allow me to tend to my duties, and I shall allow you to tend to yours.” He glanced at Sancha.
She blushed to the roots of her hair and studiously avoided his gaze through the ceremony. What little there was.
Enrique kept hurrying the man along until Dominico came to the part where the intended husband pledged himself to his future wife. Enrique took both her hands and kissed her fingertips. He looked at her so long and tenderly, Pedro cleared his throat.
Tomás clamped Enrique’s shoulder. “Until you speak, none of us can enjoy the wine or food. Say what you must, we beg of you.”
Enrique shrugged him off and gave Sancha a smile filled with hope and promise of their days ahead. A good marriage, children, her work, his earnest attention to their safety.
“I have never loved anyone as I do you.” Joy lit his features, making him more handsome than she believed possible. “For the rest of my days, I promise you my all and give myself to be thy husband.”
Pedro clapped.
Enrique shot him a look. Dominico continued with the ceremony, pausing when the time came for Sancha to give her pledge.
Enrique still faced her, both of them entranced with the other’s presence, as though no one else existed.
“Sí.” She eased closer, wanting to kiss him. “Most certainly.”
Dominico laughed. She and Enrique looked over.
The priest rubbed his fingers over his mouth, sobering quickly. “What you said was lovely, my dear, especially since having any woman love Enrique is a miracle, but I need the answer the holy mother Church requires.”
Of course. Despite her embarrassment, she behaved with dignity, speaking the words that would forever change her life. “I give myself to be thy wife.”
Tomás and Pedro cheered.
“Well done.” Tomás pivoted. “Now we feast.”
“My blessing on the marriage first.” Dominico recited the words, followed by a wink to Enrique and Sancha. “You are joined forever. Now Mass.”
Everyone stared at him.
Tomás strode to the door. “Pedro and I shall see the rest of you in the dining hall once Mass is over.” He gestured for his brother to follow him to the food.
“Have it your way.” Dominico trailed after them. “Someday you may regret your decision.”
“Never,” Enrique called to his friend, then slipped his hand beneath Sancha’s chin and lifted her face to his. “Happy?”
She wrapped her arms around his torso. “Dangerously so.”
“You intend to lead me into carnal sin this night?”
“Until the following morning and afternoon, if you can keep up with me.”
He laughed. “We shall see.”
* * * *
They had to wait through an interminably long meal with Dominico, Tomás, and Pedro’s appetites too hearty, their converse endless.
Enrique wanted to throw them out.
They must have sensed his intolerance. Each man ignored him during the feast, concentrating on besting each other in imagined deeds or peppering Sancha with questions on who she thought was the better man.
She waved her hands in front of herself repeatedly, refusing to take sides. “I leave the decision to you.”
Beneath the table, her foot played with his. She’d slipped off her shoe and slid her toes up his leg. Minutes earlier, she’d settled the ball of her foot on his groin. He’d swallowed his wine too quickly and coughed until he couldn’t breathe. Still wheezing, he’d assured everyone he was well. Pity he’d reacted as he had. Sancha didn’t put her foot on his shaft and sac again.
She did eat with zeal, either because she believed the worst was behind them or wanted to fortify herself for their marital bed.
She reached for more beef.
Pedro handed her the tray. “With you wed now, will your servants be coming here?” He glanced at Enrique. “What do you intend to do with the castle where she used to live and all the others from her inheritance?”
“I know what I would do.” She slid a thick slice of beef on her plate. “I would turn the grandest into a hospital.”
Dominico paused mid-chew, staring at her.
She grew quite pale and looked at Enrique.
He shrugged to dismiss any suspicions about her words. “We almost lost Fernando several months ago. Two knaves stabbed him repeatedly while he was protecting Sancha and Isabella. Tomás, Pedro, and I brought him to the convent, where I met her. She was there praying.” He gave her a smile then concentrated on Dominico once more. “Fernando nearly died during the journey. If a hospital had stood near the castle where she used to live, the far shorter distance would have spared us what might have been unspeakable grief.”
“All turned out well,” Tomás said. “I believe Sancha has an excellent idea for her former home.”
Dominico dumped another helping of pork and cheese on his plate. “Enrique’s first-born son may think otherwise. Sancha’s castle would be part of his inheritance. Just as Enrique’s father gave him this estate until he inherits all.”
“Seven castles from Papá.” Tomás sighed wistfully. “Countless acres of land, villages.”
Pedro leaned toward Enrique. “It may take you the rest of your life to visit everything you have.” He smiled at Sancha. “You too.”
“None of it means anything to me.”
Dominico finished his sip of wine. “You say that now. If you were forced to live in a hut in one of the villages, rather than this splendor, I trust you would feel quite differently.”
“So would the peasants.” She frowned. “None of us had a choice where we were born. None of this is right.”
He shook his head. “Not having a choice in where one is born?”
“No.” She gestured to the dining hall. “Is this estate not grand or large enough for one family? How much more do we need when those around us have so little? When most children die before thei
r second year because they lack food and skilled heal—”
She’d stopped so abruptly, her pause seemed to intrigue Dominico more than her earlier words.
Enrique wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed gently. “What a wonder she is.” He grinned at Dominico. “Did I not tell you she was loving and giving?”
“You did.” After working his tongue around his mouth, he pointed his knife at her. “Make certain not to be too giving. You have your own family to worry about. Listen to your husband on this.”
“Like you do the directives of the Church?” Enrique asked.
Dominico scowled, and detailed what a stellar priest he was, unknowingly taking attention off her.
Relived, Enrique tapped her foot with his. After a moment, she tapped back, quite sluggishly, her gaze lowered, shoulders slumped. He wasn’t certain if she felt badly for talking too much or not being able to say what was on her mind as men always did.
With him, she could. Trying to lighten her mood, he wound his foot around her leg and tugged. She slid her gaze to him and tugged back. Before long, they were snickering with him wanting an end to this play and the start of her naked in his bed.
He pushed back his chair and stood. “I thank all of you for helping me celebrate this wondrous day. However—”
“There is always a however,” Tomás said. “Are you tired of us already?”
“I reached that state hours ago and can barely stomach your ugly faces a second more. I want to be alone with my bride.” He offered Sancha his hand, which she took readily.
He spoke to the men. “Stay as long as you like. I know you will anyway. None of you have manners.”
Tomás finished wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand, Dominico belched once more, and Pedro scratched beneath his arm.
Sancha smiled. “But we love you anyway.”
Led by Tomás, each man offered her a hug and a wish for a long, prosperous marriage, then returned to their food and converse.
At the bottom of the grand stairway, she hiked up her skirt and bolted up the staircase. “I challenge you to a race.”
She made it halfway up the steps when Enrique passed and waited for her at the top.
