by Tina Donahue
She ate like a starved man, gobbling boiled eggs and olives faster than he ever had. After barely chewing the fare, she swallowed then polished off two oranges, three pieces of pork, crusty bread, and a large wedge of cheese.
She reached for more bread.
He caught her hand. “Did you eat anything while I was gone?”
She nodded, her cheeks puffed out with food.
He released her hand and placed his on her belly, silky and warm though far too flat. “Are you with child?”
She lifted her shoulders and finished her wine.
Disappointed, he brought his hand back from her. “No symptoms yet?”
“They will surely come.” She took another orange.
“Why so hungry then?”
“The food is too delectable to resist? Your cook has skills beyond compare?”
He laughed briefly then regarded her. “Are you certain nothing happened these last days?”
She seemed different to him, edgier than he’d ever seen her except when Isabella had sent the first missive concerning the rumors. Surely more hadn’t cropped up. He knew Sancha well enough now to expect her to say something on the matter, asking his advice, seeking his reassurance.
Another thing puzzled him. Not once had she inquired of the peasants, though previously she’d been concerned about their welfare to the detriment of her own. He hoped she didn’t think him incapable of delivering her medicine, had presumed those sorry people were now dead, and didn’t want to hear anything further about them.
Of course, her lack of curiosity might be for the best. He was loath to tell her of Vincente’s tragic end. Thinking of the young man, Enrique grew restless, not knowing how to report the sad truth or figure out why she had yet to answer his question.
Worried she was trying to hide something from him, he pressed. “What happened during my absence? Tell me everything. No detail is too small. I love to hear you speak.”
She chewed more slowly than she had earlier.
He waited, prepared to stay in their bed for the rest of the day if need be.
At last, she swallowed. “I did nothing to bring myself to an inquisitor’s attention, if that concerns you. I kept our secret. I acted the part of the dutiful wife.”
“Even though you are not?”
She smiled and dug into what fare remained.
Still concerned about her behavior, he took the last slice of beef before she could, wanting her mouth free of food so she had no reason to avoid their converse. “You have yet to ask about my journey.”
She brushed crumbs from her lips. “I should never have asked you to go.”
He’d been right. She did doubt his abilities. “I see. You had little faith in how I would perform the task, possibly even less now.”
“No. Danger lies everywhere. Someone might have harmed you out there.” She grew haunted. “Of course, you might have been harmed here too. It was best you went.”
He shook his head, unable to follow her reasoning. “Who would have harmed me here?”
“Have you listened to nothing I said? The world is filled with danger.”
“Here? In a castle on a hill behind fortified walls with guards at the gate and in other locations to see to our safety?”
She glanced past him to the window, the drapes pulled back. Even though sun poured inside, brightening everything, she seemed paler than she should have, drained of color.
Alarmed, he cradled her cheek. “Did a guard or servant say or do something to you during my absence?”
“No. What of Guillermo’s cousin and the young woman?”
He didn’t want to discuss them anymore than she wanted to tell him what had happened while he’d been gone. “I have bad news and good.”
“Oh no.” Her lovely mouth drooped in sorrow. “The girl died before you could get to her?”
“No. From what I could tell, she seemed better when I left. She was sleeping at least, her cough not as frequent. I told Hortensia what had happened when I asked her to bring our fare. Surely, the girl’s sister has heard by now.”
“I must tell Hortensia I can make more potion if the girl or anyone else in the village needs it. What bad news do you have for me?”
He picked an orange peel from the sheet and dropped it on the tray. “Vincente, Guillermo’s cousin, perished—not because of anything you did.” Her dismay killed him. “His uncle said Vincente was in great pain. He feared going through life horribly scarred and took matters into his own hands. You did everything you could. The Moors caused his death, not you.”
“I added to his misery.”
“You tried to help.”
“What good is anything I know if I keep bringing people harm?”
“Vincente is the only one who died. I checked on the other peasants to see how they were. Everyone has mended as they should.”
“For now. What of the future? What of you?”
He tossed the platters and plates to the other side of the bed and gathered her into his arms. “Did Isabella send you another missive? Did someone else, saying the rumors have started again? How could they? We wed. Soon our son will come. We have naught to worry about.”
“Luscinda was here.”
“What? At the gate?”
“In the castle. I feared turning her away, not knowing what my refusal would cause her to say or do. I still have the note she gave to the guard.”
Sancha left the bed and swiped the missive off a cabinet. “Here.”
He read the letter, rage building, his skin stinging with heat. “How dare she pen such a thing to you.”
“She wanted to see your study and the rooms on this floor.”
“Where I work and the bedchambers? Why?”
“I refused to let her inside your study, which made her more curious. As far as the rooms up here, I have no idea why she was so interested. She asked if we kept secrets from each other. I avoided as many of her questions as I could, telling her nothing. She even tried to take the stairs to my study room. I stopped her and insisted we go to the dining hall to eat. She left. All told, she was here less than an hour, despite writing of her desire to visit with me.”
“I knew she was the one who started the rumors.”
Sancha sat on the edge of the mattress. “What do you think she plans to say now?”
“What can she? You and I have wed. Nothing we have here would make anyone suspicious.”
“Except the closed door to your study hiding what you have inside, and the room I kept her from with my books.”
“The wretch has no right to see anything here, not even the grounds.”
“She had no desire to tour them when I offered to show her.”
“Did she ask to see the chapel, proof of our commitment to God?”
“No. I did take her there first. I had lit every candle earlier begging for your safe return. She asked which of us prayed so fervently, her words more accusation than question, as though you were pleading with God to save my soul because you knew I had given myself to the Devil. Everything she said pointed to the worst or mocked our union. What do you think will happen now? More rumors?”
“Not after I threaten her with everything I can think of.”
“And make this worse? We have no proof she started the gossip. She twists whatever people say using their words against them. We have to find another way.”
“If I could murder her, I would.”
“You would not. I would beat you to it.”
Laughing, he pulled her into his arms and tilted her backwards.
She squealed.
With his mouth molded to hers, he kissed her deeply, enthralled as always at her lips softness and heat, how wonderful she tasted. If Luscinda or anyone dared tried to harm Sancha or take her from him, he would kill them in a moment without regret.
Pity he had to think of another way to deal with Luscinda until she crossed the ultimate line. Her outrageous con
duct had affected him and Sancha far too much. He was beginning to look over his shoulder, suspicious of things he’d never considered before. Poor Sancha believed she had to hide here, seeing no one except him in order to protect herself.
Of course, she never had craved parties and visitors as other nobles did. She preferred to live their life in solitude, save for her family, his, and Rosa. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t do any longer.
Finished with the kiss, he pulled her to a sitting position. “We need to have a grand party to celebrate our union.”
“What?”
“A party is the perfect solution, proving you and I have nothing to hide. Our guests can stay in the castle, roam around as they wish, look at everything, see us together, and know how happy we are.”
“I have no need to prove our love.”
“Not to me. However, if we cloister ourselves here, people will begin to wonder why, adding weight to Luscinda’s words.”
“I hate her. Wrong to say, I know, but I do.” She lowered her voice further. “If we have a party and allow people to roam, what of my books?”
“This castle has more hiding places than Fernando’s. Remember me telling you so, and your promise to pleasure me in each of them? I am still waiting.”
“How can you jest at a time like this?”
“Would you prefer I scowl?”
She slapped his arm and groaned. “A party? The converse is always dull, the men arrogant, each trying to out position the other, the women looking for husbands, lovers, or a way to wound their rivals. I would rather face a murderous Moor.”
“Trust me, you will shine at this celebration, wearing the finest gown in the kingdom, along with my mother’s jewels.”
“I have to take time for fittings?”
“Most women would be squealing with delight.”
“Silks and jewels mean naught to me. I care only for you.”
“And your healing. You know you never want to give up your study or experiments. A party is a small price to pay to have everyone leave you alone.”
She rested her hand on his shaft. “Save you.”
“Never will you be free of me.” He brought her down to the mattress. “First love and then we plan the party.”
Chapter 13
The gown Sancha would ultimately wear took longer to devise and execute than the most complicated potion or treatment.
What a waste of time and funds better used elsewhere. Sentiments she shared with Enrique, who kept assuring this one event would allow her enough peace to continue with her work.
She sighed at the fabric surrounding her, some silk, others velvet in a rainbow of colors. Just what she needed, more decisions. Should she settle on the lighter fabric, given some days were still nicely warm? Or should she opt for the heavier material, since the weather could change quickly, growing cool?
Holding a swatch of each weight, one in dark green and the other bright blue, she couldn’t decide. “I have no idea what I should wear.” She wiggled the fabrics at Enrique. “What do men like? What do you want to see me in?”
“Nothing. I prefer you naked.”
With no help coming from his end, she was on her own. Pity that.
She’d never taken time to study fashions or to become skilled, as Isabella had, in spinning yarn or using a thread and needle. Except when she needed to mend wounds. Her only request to the women who’d made her garments was that the gowns be easy to wear and modest in appearance. Unlike other Spanish ladies, she hadn’t tried to attract a husband or lover before or after her failed betrothal to Fernando. She’d wanted everyone to leave her alone so she could study and experiment.
Her books lay idle, the mice in no danger from her potions as she debated fabrics instead. Eventually, she settled on gold velvet, telling the tailoress to do with the material as she willed as long as she didn’t cut the neck too low.
“What of the trim?” the woman asked. She showed Sancha a seemingly endless array of embroidered designs, some with beading or pearls, the cost surely outrageous.
How any woman could justify using wealth to clothe herself for one party when others went without food for days on end was a mystery to her.
Tired of the endeavor, she finally closed her eyes and rested her finger on one of the choices. “This one.”
“Quite lovely,” the tailoress said.
Sancha’s finger had landed on a swatch of dark green embroidery threaded with gold, simple yet elegant.
The tailoress smiled broadly. “Once I add beads, the design will be perfect.”
Sancha pressed her fingers to her temple. “If you must add beads, please keep them on the front.” Enduring a party was torture enough. Having to sit through a long meal with beads biting into her back or legs would be too much.
She dreaded the event. Already Isabella had sent her regrets. Although she and her unborn child were thriving, Fernando had taken ill with a cough and slight fever that seemed to be going around with the change in the weather. Nothing to worry about, Isabella had written. Fernando is already on the mend. Best to have him recover fully than chance a relapse.
Sancha agreed, wishing she were at Fernando’s castle, seeing to his welfare rather than preparing for an evening she couldn’t avoid.
Responses to the missives Enrique had sent out arrived quickly. Everyone wrote how eager they were to help him and his new wife celebrate their union.
Or to learn if the newest rumors were true.
Hortensia told Sancha what a servant at another estate had said. The young man had overheard an exchange between his master and mistress, gossip on how Sancha must have bewitched Enrique to save herself from accusations of witchcraft. What else but a spell would have caused him to wed her so quickly and in secret when they barely knew each other? She had never wanted marriage before, and certainly wasn’t with child.
The news had made her stomach roll. Her symptoms had increased with frequency, especially in the mornings. When she’d told Enrique she hadn’t yet conceived, she hadn’t experienced any signs of a coming child. Since he’d suggested having the party, she’d been increasingly queasy and attributed her condition to apprehension rather than impending motherhood.
Uncertain as to the cause of her nausea, she’d hid her symptoms from him. However, her worry about the newest rumors finally had her seeking him out.
She entered his study. He glanced up from his ledgers, his smile prompt and pleased until he had a good look at her face.
He stood. “What is it?”
She closed the door and joined him at his desk. “More rumors.” She kept her voice low while she related what Hortensia had told her.
He swore.
“What are we going to do now? What if the party gives everyone more to wonder about, especially if you treat me nicely?”
“What are you talking about? How could I do otherwise? I adore you.”
“Some would say because of the spell I cast.”
“Not some. Luscinda.” He brought his fist down hard on a ledger.
Sancha covered his hand before he pounded the thing to shreds, harming himself in the process. “Should we cancel the party?”
“No. We have nothing to hide and will prove so, leaving every door in the castle open, including the ones to this room and where you study. You and I will provide our guests with a lengthy tour to satisfy their curiosity. We shall charm them until they love us both.”
“What of the hiding places? Will we also show them those rooms?”
“With them hidden, no one knows they exist.”
True. “You and I best not spend too much time together during the gathering lest Luscinda accuse me of keeping you close so I can continue to bewitch you with my spells.”
His complexion darkened. “I hope I can control myself around her.”
“You must, though I do ask you to keep an eye on me. Especially if I have a knife in my hand whenever she comes near.”
&nbs
p; He smiled then sighed. “We shall watch out for each other. Forgive me for putting you through this. From the moment we met, my hope was to bring you naught but happiness.”
“You have.” She kissed his fingers. “The problem is mine.”
“Ours. How are the preparations coming for your gown?”
“Nearly finished, thankfully. I had my last fitting today after dragging myself from the new hiding place for my books.”
“Good thing.”
“Because I forced myself to endure the tailoress pinning and readjusting the gown until I wanted to scream?”
“No. That your garment is nearly ready. We welcome our guests at the end of the week.”
* * * *
Given Enrique’s firm specifications, the castle sparkled with cleanliness: fresh candles filled each holder, lamps brimmed with oil, the servants wore their finest livery, and all doors were open, proving the de Zayas castle harbored no secrets.
He stood in the grand entrance hall with Sancha at his side, greeting their guests as they arrived. The hour was still early, which gave everyone a chance to refresh and relax before the celebration this evening.
As servants lugged trunks from carriages into the castle, he and Sancha accepted their guests’ good wishes.
“You two look happy.” Katia, an aged countess, took him and Sancha in with true warmth. “I remember being young and in love.”
Sancha smiled. “A most wondrous feeling.”
Katia patted Sancha’s hand. “Never let anyone take it from you.”
Enrique wondered if the old woman had noticed Luscinda’s arrival as he had. Whereas the others had one trunk, she’d brought three. Enough to stay a month. He went ill thinking of it. With the authority of a commander giving orders to soldiers, she directed Enrique’s servants on how to carry her things, where to leave them, and to take great care when setting the trunks down. She wanted no marks on the leather.
No doubt, the chests were part of her dowry, reserved for the unfortunate man who finally ended up with her.
Luscinda smoothed her gown. The bluish-green silk sported the low neck she preferred. She regarded the castle with an accountant’s eye, seeing wealth, not a home as Sancha had.
