Bride By Mistake (18 page)

Or kiss her.

There was a long pause.

She tilted her head and looked up at him. “You mastered the art of the sidesaddle very quickly. The speed with which you came down the side of that mountain was
very
impressive. I don’t suppose you even fell once, did you? I mean this morning.” The minx sounded almost hopeful.

“No,” Luke ground curtly. Not the slightest speck of guilt or even apology in her voice or attitude.

Her eyes were a clear honey brown and thickly fringed with short, dark lashes. They seemed to draw him closer. He carefully loosened his grip on her and stepped away. It was imperative that he establish and maintain control of this situation, and he couldn’t think straight when she was looking at him like that and he was touching her.

The moment he released her, she shook herself, like a little cat who’d stepped in water. She gave him a tentative smile. “I thought you were a bandit at first.”

He wrenched his gaze from her mouth, stepped back another pace, and found himself staring at her long legs and slender female curves.

Perhaps it was the artlessness of her response, or perhaps it was that she was perfectly safe and well when all day he’d been imagining her facing some disaster.

Or perhaps it was the sight of her standing in the middle of a public road clad in nothing but a pair of buckskin breeches, boots, a white cotton shirt, and a leather jerkin. Easy—and tempting!—bait for any blackguard who happened upon her.

“Where the devil is your skirt?” he snapped.

“In my bag. I thought it would be safer and more convenient to travel as a boy.”

“As a
boy
?” She couldn’t possibly be that naive.

“Yes, a boy traveling alone is much less remarkable than a lone woman.”

“You don’t look the least bit like a boy.”

She smiled. “Not to you, perhaps, but then you already know I’m not a boy.”

“God give me strength!” he muttered. “You look nothing like a boy.”

“But I do. I’ve worn these clothes for years, and nobody has ever suspected I was anything but a boy.”

“Traveling in the land of the blind, were you?”

“Of course not.”

“Dress-ups in the convent? And the nuns told you that you looked just like a boy?”

“No, it wasn’t a game. There were times when—” She broke off. “Reverend Mother sometimes allowed me to go outside the convent dressed this way, among ordinary people. They all took me for a boy.”

He didn’t believe her. “Why would Reverend Mother allow you to take such a foolish risk? Besides, she was scandalized when she saw you in those breeches yesterday.”

“Because she saw your face when you saw the breeches.”

Luke had no doubt of it. She probably saw the raw lust he’d felt, too. “You say you’ve had these breeches for years. When did you last wear them?”

She frowned. “Three or four years ago. But they still fit perfectly well.”

He snorted. “A lot tighter, I’ll wager.”

She bridled. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m saying you look
nothing like a boy
.”

“I don’t agree. The girls in the convent were forever telling me I looked like a boy. I barely have breasts.” She gestured, but he refused to even glance down.

He was not going to be drawn into a discussion of her breasts. He knew for a fact she had them; he could see their gentle curves even beneath the leather jerkin. Her stupid school friends were blind.

She continued, “The fact is—”

“The fact is, you
willfully
disobeyed me, you look
nothing
like a boy in that attire, and I could
easily
have been a bandit!” Why the devil was he explaining it to her? He never explained himself in the army. He gave orders and people obeyed.

Men
obeyed.

“But I haven’t seen a soul,” she assured him blithely. “And when I thought you were a bandit, I hid—quite successfully, you have to admit. You wouldn’t have known I was here if I hadn’t called out to you.”

“I saw you from above,” Luke grated.

“Yes, and I heard you crashing through the underbrush from miles away. So—”

“If I
had
been a bandit, and your horse had snorted or made a sound? What then, eh?”

“If you’d threatened me, I would have shot you,” she said calmly.

“What?”

“Shot you. With this.” She reached behind her and pulled out a pistol concealed in the waistband of her breeches. He recognized it from eight years before.

“Is it loaded?”

“Of course! What use is an unloaded pistol?”

He glared at her, still seething, trying to ignore the sight of her in those breeches, the way the soft buckskin clung to
her shape. “What if I’d been two bandits—or more? Bandits ride in bands, you know.” He’d lost ground and he knew it. One should never argue with a woman. One should simply order. Or demand. He tried to retrieve his authority. “How dare you run off and leave me!”

“I didn’t leave you,” she said indignantly. “I merely parted from you temporarily. I promised faithfully to join you in England as soon as I’d found my sister. Didn’t you get my letter?”

“That’s not the point.”

“No, the point is my sister is in the hands of a vile bully. Would you leave Molly to the mercy of a man like my cousin Ramón?”

He wouldn’t, of course, but he was not going to be distracted. He returned to the issue in question. “You left without my permission.”

“But when I asked, you refused, so what else was I to do?”

“
Obey
me! As you vowed to.”

“When did I—oh, you mean the marriage vows. I was only a child then—”

“Nevertheless they are legal and binding.”

“
You
were all ready to break them.”

“I was not.”

“You were going to annul them.”

“As. We. Agreed. At. The. Time.”

She shrugged, clearly unimpressed, and turned away.

Luke clenched his fists, wrestling with a wild impulse to turn her over his knee and spank her backside. Her naked backside. He stepped forward.

“Do you have a knife?” she asked.

Luke blinked. “Knife?”

“A hoof pick, by preference, but failing that, a small knife will do. My horse has a stone in his hoof and I can’t get it out.”

“
Your
horse?” he said with withering sarcasm.

“Our horse, if you prefer.”

Her matter-of-fact tone infuriated him. She’d shown absolutely
no remorse for her actions. He prowled toward her. He’d show her once and for all—

“Don’t forget the knife,” she reminded him and bent to lift the hind hoof of the lame horse. The supple buckskin stretched tight over her bottom like a second skin.

Luke stopped dead. His mouth dried.

There was a reason why women were not supposed to wear breeches, and he was staring straight at it. It wasn’t possible for a man to think of anything else when he was confronted with… with that. It was almost worse than if she were naked.

Almost. He repressed a moan.

Averting his eyes from the delectably infuriating sight, he drew a penknife from his pocket and bent to the task of removing the stone from the horse’s hoof.

He cleaned the hoof and removed the stone, then swapped the two saddles over. It was getting chilly by then, so he pulled his greatcoat out of her bag and tossed it to her with a curt, “Put it on.”

A look crossed her face as if she might argue, but then she capitulated and shrugged herself into it.

It covered her almost to her ankles, and as she buttoned it, he felt a little of his tension ease. He strapped his bag and hers to the lame horse, then remounted the mare.

He held out his hand to Isabella. “Up behind me.”

She gazed up at him, a mutinous expression on her face. “I will not give up the search for my sister. I’ll come with you now because I have no choice, but I tell you to your face, I’ll run away from you again if I have to.”

He gave her a hard look. “You are welcome to try.”

Without a word she took his arm, placed her boot on his stirrup, and swung up behind him. He felt her warmth at his back, then she slid her arms around his waist. He stiffened but didn’t say a word.

He’d bandy words with her no longer. Tonight, when they were in the privacy of the bedchamber, he’d administer her first lesson in being a satisfactory wife.

Actions spoke louder than words.

I
t was almost dark and the moon was rising, like a pale slice of lemon. They were riding east. Did he realize it? Bella wondered. She’d expected him to turn around and go back the way they’d come.

East was the way to Valle Verde.

She said nothing. If he’d mistaken the direction, she didn’t want to let him know.

They moved at a steady walk, the lame horse slowing them down. She rode with her arms around his waist, her cheek resting against his back. He was warm and strong, and despite his anger with her, she felt very safe.

He’d been furious, but he hadn’t beaten her. She openly disobeyed him, left him, and yet he’d barely touched her, only gripped her shoulders quite hard, glared at her, and then let go.

According to the teachings of the Church, husbands had the right to beat disobedient wives, and when he’d grabbed her like that, she was sure he was going to shake her till her teeth rattled. At the very least. But he hadn’t.

A small bubble of hope blossomed inside her. He hadn’t wanted to be married to her; had tried to annul the marriage. He could have left her to her fate, and yet he’d come all this way after her.

Despite the impression she’d tried to give him, she was under no illusion of the dangers involved in her journey back to Valle Verde. Better he thought her young and naive than that she assessed the risks and found them acceptable.

Travel in Spain was as dangerous now as it had been in the war—maybe more so, because it wasn’t as easy to tell whose side anyone was on. She’d scanned the road ahead, glanced frequently back the way she came, and checked the hills above her. She’d skirted around towns and villages rather than ride through them, and hidden from every traveler before she could be seen, taking constant reassurance from the pistol at her waistband, even as she prayed she wouldn’t have to use it.

A husband who truly wished to be rid of an unwanted wife would have washed his hands of her and let her risk herself.

Luke Ripton had ridden after her, made a long, rough, and difficult journey through unknown territory, sidesaddle, risking ridicule, as well as danger. It might only be a strong dislike of being disobeyed, but still, Bella couldn’t help but see it as a positive sign.

She hugged him tighter, breathing in the smell of him. She remembered it from when she was a young girl, when they’d first met. He’d ridden to her rescue then, and he was still doing it now.

The moon was higher now. Its cold light silvered the rooftops and turret of a building that looked familiar. As they rode closer, she recognized it.

“El Castillo de Rasal!” she exclaimed.

“Eh?”

“That castle—it’s the Castillo de Rasal, the home of the Marqués de Rasal,” she said excitedly. “I did not realize we were so close. The
marqués
is—was an old friend of my father’s. I’ve known him since I was a little girl. We can stay the night there.” She felt a surge of pleasure at the prospect of seeing someone from her past after so long. The
marqués
had always been very kind to Bella.

“He might not be ali—home.”

He’d been going to say the
marqués
might not be alive, she thought. “It doesn’t matter. His servants will remember me and offer us hospitality, I know.” Her stomach rumbled. “He keeps a very fine cook, too—the
castillo
is renowned for it.”

He didn’t respond.

Bella burbled happily on. “You can’t see them in the dark, but the estate has very fine vineyards—the wines of Castillo de Rasal are drunk all over Spain. I came here several times with my father when I was young. The
castillo
is a medieval castle, you understand, very ancient and inconvenient, though parts of it are quite beautiful. You will enjoy seeing it in the daylight.” She rubbed her cheek against his coat. “You
know, I thought I would have to sleep tonight on the ground, or under a bridge, and instead we will sleep in a castle.”

She felt him stiffen. “Under a bridge?”

“I had no money for an inn.”

He snorted but said nothing more. They came to a tall stone gateway.

“That’s the driveway,” Bella said. “Turn off here.”

He took no notice. They passed the gateway.

She hit him lightly on the shoulder. “Stop! You missed it! The turnoff is back there.”

“We’re not staying there.”

“But why not? I told you, the
marqués
is an old family friend. He’d be delighted to see me again, I know it.”

“No.”

Bella could hardly believe her ears. “But why not? It’s a wonderful place to stay.”

No answer.

“The
marqués
will be very disappointed to have missed me—” she began.

“Did you write to him to expect you?”

“No, but—”

“Then he’ll have no reason for disappointment.”

Really, there was no cause for such churlishness. He should be grateful to be able to visit a
marqués
and stay in an ancient
castillo
. “
I
will be very disappointed,” she told him.

“You’ll survive it. We’ll stay in the inn at Ayerbe. It’s only a couple of miles farther.”

“But why stay in a village inn when we could stay in a castle?”

He ignored her.

There was no point in arguing. The man was as stubborn as a rock. Bella thumped him crossly instead. He made no sign he’d even noticed.

F
eeling the thump between his shoulder blades, Luke smiled to himself. She’d learn.

He had no doubt they’d be welcomed with open arms at
Castillo de Rasal, and would be wined and dined in a manner fit for a king, but he was damned if he was going to spend his first night alone with his wife in the home of some doting old man who’d dandled her on his knee as a child.