Wicked Whispers

by Tina Donahue

  Annoyed, Enrique turned to his wife, surprised she was already looking at him. “What?”

  “The baroness asked as to your health.”

  He looked at the middle-aged woman. “Never been better.”

  She regarded Luscinda for a long moment before giving him a smile. “Something is surely going around. Several of my servants have fallen ill this last week with fevers and coughs, seemingly out of nowhere. As though targeted by an unseen force.” The woman flicked her gaze at Sancha before speaking to him again. “Best you take care with your health. I understand true belief in God and prayer helps.”

  He bristled at the veiled accusation of witchcraft and Sancha having to defend herself repeatedly. Although the guests had been here only a short time, already she seemed tired of the ordeal.

  He couldn’t blame her and forced himself to smile at the baroness. “May God grant all of us good health.”

  “Indeed,” Sancha said. “Especially in my condition.”

  Several nobles turned to her, Enrique included.

  She offered a luminous smile, the first he’d seen since the others had arrived, her attention on him as though no one else existed.

  Three women rushed over, the stoutest one pushing in front of the others. “Are you with child?”

  “Sí. The first of many.”

  He grinned so hard his cheeks hurt, and he had to keep himself from hauling her into his arms and swinging her around like a lunatic, or a man hopelessly in love. “Do you need to sit? Do you want a glass of water or wine? Is it too warm in here? Should I have the servants open the windows?”

  Women and men chuckled at his questions. A count clamped Enrique on his shoulder. “If you grow concerned at this point, within nine months you may have to take to your bed to recover.”

  Even those who’d seemed skeptical of Sancha’s devotion to God laughed and applauded, voices raised in cheer for the coming new life.

  Except Luscinda. She remained to the side, watching or plotting.

  She couldn’t possibly do anything more now. His and Sancha’s marriage, along with their coming child, proved every rumor Luscinda had started was, at the least, a misconception, at most a vicious lie.

  * * * *

  Sancha hadn’t meant to make a spectacle of her news that should have been for Enrique alone. The baroness’s venomous comments and Luscinda’s arrival had rattled her to the point she’d spoken without thinking.

  Enrique didn’t seem to mind, his joy obvious and lasting, even when a lone knight arrived, rather than Tomás, Pedro, and the men who’d been at Isabella and Fernando’s wedding. Sancha and Enrique had agreed his brothers and the knights were the only ones they truly wanted here, delighted to have the men feast and enjoy the señoritas, who would appreciate their presence.

  “A note from your brother.” The man handed Enrique the missive.

  The nobles stepped closer, an elderly duke in the lead. “Not more trouble with the Moors, I hope.”

  Finished reading, Enrique shook his head. “Tomás says a situation has come up that he and his men must attend to. Not a battle. We can rest easy.”

  Sancha touched his sleeve. “Have the Moors attacked another village?”

  “No.” He handed her the note. She read quickly.

  Please give Sancha my sincerest apology for missing the gathering.

  How greatly Pedro, my men, and I looked forward to the food and señoritas.

  We must leave such enjoyment for a future time.

  Have no fear, there are no battles with the Moors keeping us away. Nor were any villages attacked.

  As knights, we need to keep of sound mind and body, preparing ourselves for conflicts, rather than pleasure. We do so now.

  Your brother,

  Tomás

  Although his assurances of no battles or raids eased her worry, she found the note somewhat strange, lacking Tomás’s usual wit and charm. She couldn’t imagine why he’d penned such a somber missive unless he feared inquisitors might intercept his words…because they were already on their way here.

  She reeled, feeling sick, until she considered how foolish her thoughts were. Neither Tomás nor Pedro would write a letter to warn their brother of such an occurrence. They’d be here at Enrique’s side, fighting those who dared harm him or her.

  Still, the note troubled. She wanted to ask Enrique what he thought but didn’t get the chance.

  With the last of the guests here, he began the tour with her at his side. Earlier, they’d debated whether to bring everyone to the chapel first. If so, would more than a few lit candles seem odd? Would too few indicate a lack of devotion to good against evil?

  He’d tired quickly of the debate. “We show them the dining hall first then the chapel. The route makes perfect sense as one area moves into the other. Light as many candles as you want. Worry what our Creator thinks rather than these foolish people.”

  She had no worries about God. The nobles, however…

  One after the other glanced into the small room where flames bobbed on a fourth of the candles. A fair number. Not too much, nor too little. She hoped.

  The elderly duke and Enrique laughed about something, everyone following them to another room then the study. She held back finally and checked faces to see if suspicions still held or had faded away.

  Luscinda caught up with her. “How fortunate for you to be with child.”

  Sancha didn’t trust the woman’s good wishes, suspecting an accusation on its heels that she’d use the babe so no one would suspect her of witchcraft. Despite her annoyance, she smiled. “The fortunate one is the child growing within me. He will know the gift of life, the most powerful God of all, the greatest country on earth, and a wonderful papá.”

  “What of his mamá? What will he know from you?”

  “Patience with fools.”

  Luscinda’s sly smile faded, replaced by a look of pure hatred.

  “There you are, dear Sancha.” Dominico strode toward her, robe flapping around his skinny ankles.

  She took his hands in hers and squeezed his fingers gently. “Enrique and I need to fatten you up. I hope you intend to eat your fill during these next days.”

  “More than my share, yours, and…” He glanced at Luscinda who remained nearby.

  “Señorita Doña Luscinda,” she said before Sancha could introduce them. “Padre.”

  He smiled. “Dominico.”

  Luscinda lifted her eyebrows slightly. “How curious.”

  He leaned away. “My name? I rather like it.”

  “As well you should. What I meant is, I had no idea Sancha included sacerdotes as her friends. Nuns, yes, as one could always find her at the convent. Oh wait.” Luscinda regarded her. “Word has it you have not been at the convent in months.”

  Word or rumor? “Were you looking for me there?”

  “Me?” Smiling, Luscinda focused on Dominico. “Have you ever seen a woman with my looks in a nunnery?”

  “If I had, I would have visited more often.”

  She laughed. “You missed the part of the tour with the chapel. Would you like me to show you the lovely stained glass windows and candles?”

  “I saw them when I joined Enrique and Sancha in holy matrimony.”

  “Oh. So you were the one. You must tell me about the wonderful day. Dear Sancha is so shy she refuses to mention wedding Enrique.”

  Sancha dug her nails so deeply into her palms they hurt. “What would you like to know?”

  “Dominico will tell me. Will you not?”

  “Not much to tell. Enrique and Sancha could barely tear their eyes from each other to pay attention to me.” He glanced past her to Sancha. “I have forgiven you for being so rude.”

  She smiled. “Gracias. Come with me.” She gestured him toward her. “Enrique will surely want to see his best childhood friend.”

  “He had better.”

  Quickly, she led Dominico away from L
uscinda.

  * * * *

  Most of the guests weren’t interested in seeing every bedchamber or the room where Sancha had once studied, begging off for a rest or a nap in their rooms. Of those who remained for the entire tour, Luscinda was the most persistent, lingering at each spot as though she imagined herself reigning here.

  Enrique would rather die or see her dead.

  Once in Sancha’s study room, Luscinda paced the now-empty area.

  He gestured impatiently to her. “Come. There is naught to see up here.”

  “How odd.” She spoke to Sancha. “You claimed this space had Enrique’s childhood possessions and old furnishings. I see nothing here now.”

  He stepped between her and his wife. “The items were put to use for this celebration.”

  “I noted nothing different from the last time I was here. You must point them out to me.”

  “May I have a rest with my wife first?”

  One of the men chuckled. The women averted their gazes at how Enrique had dismissed Luscinda.

  He didn’t care. He’d had all he could tolerate of her and entertaining guests he hardly cared about. “Sancha and I will see everyone later during the feast. Come.” He took her hand.

  She said nothing, nor did he on their stroll to their bedchamber. Once he’d closed the door, he pulled her into him and kissed her hungrily. She responded in kind, fisting her fingers in his robe to keep him to her, grinding her mound against his shaft, proving again how much she wanted him.

  After tearing his mouth free, he held her within his embrace, his heart pounding. “Is it true?”

  “Is what true?”

  He rested his hand on her belly.

  Her face brightened with the most exquisite smile. “Forgive me for telling you as I had. The baroness unsettled me and the words slipped out.”

  “Little wonder, the old crone would frighten a demon. Are you all right? Do you feel well?”

  “Tired.”

  Of course. How stupid of him not to have realized such a thing. He swept her into his arms and carried her to their bed. “Sleep. We have hours before we have to continue this farce.”

  She scooted aside and patted the mattress for him to sit.

  He joined her. “No love, only rest.”

  “We shall see. Except for the baroness, were the other nobles you spoke with convinced nothing is amiss here or with us?”

  “Shortly after I started the tour, most of us were laughing as we always have.” He frowned. “Where did you go? For several minutes I was unable to see you anywhere.”

  “You and the duke had moved ahead. Luscinda caught up and offered me good wishes on being with child.”

  “And?”

  She related the exchange between her and the woman, then Dominico. “I suspect she wanted to be alone with him so she could question the poor man about me.”

  Enrique shrugged. “Even if she agreed to let him bed her, he knows nothing and can tell her nothing.”

  “Does it matter? She keeps twisting my words and actions to make everything I do seem suspect.”

  “Are you certain she admitted nothing about checking for you at the convent?” If he had even a shred of proof, he could confront and threaten her, putting an end to this.

  Sancha sighed. “She was careful in what she said, far more than I have ever been.”

  “Because you have naught to hide. I want you to stop worrying about her. She has no way to harm either of us. Having this gathering has already proved a success in disproving the rumors. We hid nothing and soon you will have my son.” He hugged her so hard he feared causing injury but couldn’t stop. “Are you happy?”

  “Not completely.”

  Surprised, he eased back. “Because of Luscinda?”

  “No. You. Take these off.” She pulled at his robe and doublet, each a deep red. “I want you inside me. I need your love to get through this evening.”

  “Only if you agree to rest after I have you.”

  She nodded.

  He undressed quickly and helped her with her clothes. Together, they fell to the bed. He brushed her hair aside. “After we get through this night and the next days, we shall have our lives to ourselves again.”

  “None too soon.” She kissed his neck.

  A wave of warmth pulsed through him.

  She nestled closer. “I wish Tomás and Pedro could have been here to make things easier on us, keeping the others busy, charming them. Especially Tomás. I found his note so somber and strange. Not like him at all. Poor man must have been terribly upset having to miss our gathering and the señoritas.”

  “I’m sure he was.” Enrique smiled at her suckling his shoulder. “But he didn’t write the note.”

  She pulled in her tongue and lifted her head. “Of course, he did. I saw his name.”

  “Pedro wrote it along with the missive. I know my brothers’ scripts. Why he penned the letter for Tomás and signed his name, I have no idea.”

  She paled considerably. “Do you think they heard the rumors and tried to warn us something bad is about to happen?”

  “With a note holding no information to help us?”

  “Maybe they were afraid someone would seize the letter.”

  “If my brothers thought we were in danger, they would say so. This has nothing to do with the rumors, your healing, or the Inquisition.”

  “What then?”

  He lifted his shoulders. “All must be well or they would have told me. Why keep bad tidings a secret?”

  “You would from me if you wanted to save me worry.”

  He pulled her into him. “Men deal with each other far more openly than they do with women. Trust me, there is naught to worry about with Pedro’s missive or our gathering. Everything will be over before you know it.”

  * * * *

  Sancha held Enrique’s sentiment in her heart as they dressed for what she feared would be an endless feast. Him in his usual clothes he found quite comfortable. Her in the new gown that didn’t suit her in the least.

  The sleeves and skirt were voluminous with enough yardage to make another garment, two if one created the items for a child. The trim Sancha had chosen, along with beadwork the tailoress promised, graced the square neckline, the edge of the sleeves, circled her hips, ran in a line to the hem with more beaded trim gracing it. Her gauzy kirtle, trimmed with lace, reached to her throat, at least presenting a more modest appearance than Luscinda had ever achieved.

  Enrique took her in, his face naked with pride. “Smile. You have never looked more exquisite. The gown is perfect for your coloring and my mamá’s jewels.”

  He opened the polished wood box he’d taken out earlier and removed an intricately designed emerald pendant with a gold chain attached. In the candlelight, the jewel flashed green, the same color as the trim on her gown.

  The stone’s beauty and the elaborateness of the piece overwhelmed and disturbed her.

  In too short a time, she’d changed from the woman she’d once been. Now she dressed like a queen and wore a monarch’s gem, her books and experiments forgotten, the peasants on their own. Thankfully, none had needed her these last days, but would. She had no business wasting time with a group of arrogant and pampered nobles when survival for others was at stake.

  “Put it back.” She stepped away. “I could never wear such a lovely piece.”

  “You can and will.” He held it up. “Turn around, lift your hair, and accept my gift.”

  “I would rather be swimming in the pond with you, experimenting on my mice, or treating the ill.”

  “This is only one night, my love. The feast will end. Your mice will meet their doom once more.”

  Not fast enough for her. The gown was heavy, hot, and too ornate to move in easily. She was uncomfortable with the extravagance that would surely pull all eyes to her.

  Once she was on the stairway, her worst fears came true.

  Nobles glanced u
p, conversations stalled, eyes widened. Approval flooded the men’s faces, envy the women’s.

  Luscinda stood within the glow of a dozen candles. The light skimmed her blue velvet gown, her caul bearing the same shade. The dark colors and her black hair made her skin seem exceedingly delicate and quite lovely. Young men surrounded her, each a minor noble without great estates. They’d been born second and third sons rather than the first. Their broad smiles and gentle touches on her sleeve failed to gain her attention. She eyed Sancha’s gown and the jewel she wore.

  No illness or wound had ever disturbed Sancha as much as Luscinda’s calculating appraisal.

  Enrique seemed blind to her presence. At the bottom of the stairs, he exchanged pleasantries with his guests.

  The old duke smiled broadly at Sancha, his fat fingers wrapped around a goblet. “Your husband is a lucky man.”

  A count’s wife edged close. “Your gown is exquisite. Do tell me the name of your tailoress.”

  Soon, the women had surrounded her, the men Enrique. Everyone talked at once about velvets, silks, jewels, gowns, war, Moors, property, the Crown, until Sancha’s head spun as she tried to keep up. At past parties, she’d listened to others discuss trivialities, relieved the other nobles ignored her.

  Now, these women sought converse on matters she’d never considered.

  “I have yet to see the newest combs and fans,” she said to an older woman, a marquis’s wife.

  The woman wagged her finger. “Your husband must take you there.”

  “Where?” Enrique joined them, proving to Sancha he’d listened all along, protecting her as he’d promised.

  The women spoke at once, advising him to spend at least a day at the next fair so Sancha could have the latest fashions.

  “Wearing what you have in the past will never do,” a viscountess said.

  The marquesa put up her hand. “I have an idea. We can go to the fair together. Ladies to purchase the most beautiful items they can find, men to haggle over weapons and animals as they drink themselves into a stupor.”

  Laughter rippled through the crowd.

  Sancha smiled as well as she could, grateful for Enrique’s arm when time came for the feast. She recalled how noisy the banquet had been at Fernando’s castle. Tonight’s was twice as loud given double the guests.