Don't Bargain with the Devil (30 page)

 

“Married!” Her heart soared. “But you said…I thought…”

 

“I took your innocence. I am not so dishonorable as to leave you ruined.”

 

The emotionless statement stopped her heart in mid-soar. “But what about your property? You said my grandfather won’t give it to you if we marry.”

 

“It does not matter.”

 

He said it so curtly that she knew it mattered very much. “But Diego—”

 

“I am not like Hunforth,” he ground out as he picked up his cravat and tied it about his neck. “Taking a woman’s innocence levies certain obligations on any decent man—and I always honor my obligations.”

 

Her temper flared. She didn’t want to be his obligation. “. seduced
you.
Don’t make it sound as if you ravished me against my will.”

 

“Did I not?” He turned to look at her, his expression softening. “Come now,
querida,
I could have left whenever I wished. All I had to do was ignore your lovely body, crawl under the bed, and find the key. Which, by the way, I just did.” He held it up. “Your pretty tactics would not have kept me here long if I had not chosen to stay.”

 

“You didn’t choose to stay.” Guilt gnawed at her for how she’d convinced him. “You did it because I threatened to give myself to another and blame my lack of chastity on you.”

 

He arched one eyebrow. “I called your bluff, remember? You did not leave to go to anyone else’s bed. And if you
had tried, I would have locked you up for the rest of the voyage. I would not have let another man have you.”

 

“Why?” she whispered.

 

“For the same reason I first kissed you—because I wanted you in my bed. I wanted to ravish you from the moment I saw you in that orchard.” He looked almost angry, as if the words were torn from him. “I want to ravish you now.” He took a step toward her, halted, then pivoted away to finish dressing. “But that must wait until we marry.”

 

Silently, she watched him sit to pull on his boots. She should be glad, ecstatic, that he’d decided to marry her. It made everything easier. So why couldn’t she shake the feeling he did it against his will?

 

It wasn’t just his refusal to speak of love. After all, she hadn’t mentioned love to
him.
But that word “obligation” rang in her ears. He’d fought so hard to fulfill his promise to the
marqués
and gain his property, yet now he was ready to abandon it? Simply because he’d taken her innocence?

 

“Diego, I…I didn’t expect you to marry me when I set out to seduce you.”

 

“I realize that.”

 

“I just didn’t want to end up forced into marriage with some stranger.”

 

“Yes,” he said tightly. “You explained that perfectly well last night.”

 

“I certainly didn’t want you to give up this property you seem to—”

 

“Arboleda! It has a name!” He whipped his head around to glare at her. “And it is not just any piece of property. It is…” He trailed off as he saw her wounded expression. “It does not matter. What is done is done.”

 

A hollow hurt settled in her chest. After last night, she wanted nothing more than to marry him, but not like this, with him stiff and formal and unhappy.

 

He rose to walk to the door. “When we reach Spain, I will take you to your grandfather and ask for permission to marry you. I owe him that courtesy, at least. If he refuses, we will elope. But one way or the other, we
will
be married.”

 

When he unlocked the door, she leaped from the bed, dragging the sheet with her. “Wait, Diego—”

 

“Get some rest,” he ordered. “I will send Nettie to attend you.”

 

Then he left.

 

She stood gaping at the door. He’d just announced in his high-handed manner that they were to be married, and he actually expected her to
rest?

 

That was impossible now. She stared at her sketch pad with her heart in her throat. She hadn’t looked at the sketch since the day she’d drawn it. Now she could see that it was a terrible likeness. She’d done it when she’d thought him quite the devil, and she’d made his eyes far too cold, his mouth too cruel.

 

While the Diego she had come to know…

 

A sob caught in her throat. Too late she realized just how honorable he was, willing to give up everything to preserve her reputation. He didn’t love her; she wasn’t even sure he
liked
her beyond the bedchamber. Yet he meant to marry her?

 

When the door swung open, she whirled toward it, praying Diego had returned. But it was only Nettie.

 

The servant closed the door with a knowing glance. “Well? Did it work? Did he end up in your bed?”

 

“Look at how I’m dressed,” Lucy said irritably. “What do
you
think?”

 

Nettie chuckled as she picked up Lucy’s shift. “Was it everything you hoped?”

 

Lucy blushed. “Was your night with Rafael everything
you
hoped?”

 

With a dreamy smile, Nettie clutched the shift to her chest. “Oh, miss. You have no idea.”

 

“Trust me, I have a very good idea. And there’s your answer.”

 

Nettie laughed. “I told you them Spanish men ain’t so bad.”

 

What an understatement. “Did Rafael guess what I was up to?”

 

“Not at first.” Nettie straightened the room. “But when his friend didn’t return last night, he got a good idea. Didn’t seem too happy about it, neither. I thought p’raps he fancied you for himself, but he said no. Said his friend was fool enough to do the right thing by you, and that would mean trouble.”

 

Because Diego wouldn’t get his estate?

 

Lucy frowned. Surely he made an adequate living as a magician. His dress indicated a certain level of comfort, and he didn’t live as if money were his main concern. He didn’t cater to the whims of his rich patrons. Then there’d been the huge sum he’d given to charity at the breakfast.

 

Perhaps she should find out how financially secure he really was. And why Arboleda was so important to him. If his family was dead, why did he care?

 

He probably wouldn’t tell her, but his friend might.

 

“Has the captain arisen yet?”

 

“Aye. He was waiting for Don Diego when I left.”

 

Hearing Diego’s name said with the Spanish honorific gave her a jolt. She often forgot he was a count, but the others clearly did not. With them, his position went far beyond his fame as a performer.

 

Was that why he clung to his honor? Some men of rank took very seriously the responsibilities of their station. The
obligations.

 

Oh, how she despised being simply an obligation to him. “I have to talk to the captain alone. Do you think he and Diego will be together long?”

 

Nettie laughed. “After the night you had? I doubt it. Don Diego will wish to sleep, and Rafael usually goes to the wardroom early for breakfast.”

 

“Good. Help me dress. Quickly.”

 

A short while later, she headed for the wardroom. She entered to find Rafael alone, hunched over his plate of fried bread and cured sausage.

 

“If you’re looking for Diego, I’d leave him be. He’s in a devil of a temper,” he said.

 

“Actually, I was looking for you.”

 

He eyed her with suspicion. “Why?”

 

She took a seat across the table, not sure how to begin. “I gather that you know…that you’ve guessed—”

 

“That you and Diego spent last night doing the blanket hornpipe?”

 

When she caught his meaning, she blushed. “He told you.”

 

“Diego? The man who threatened to hang me from the nearest yardarm by my
cojones
just for kissing your hand? No, he didn’t have to tell me. He announced he was marrying you. That was enough. The only way he’d give up on regaining Arboleda is if he’d done something foolish.”

 

She fought to appear calm. “Is the property worth so much, then?”

 

“In money? Now? Hardly. After the way the soldiers ravaged it—”

 

“What soldiers?” Sudden trepidation gripped her. “Where exactly is Diego from in León?”

 

His eyes narrowed. “You don’t know?”

 

She shook her head. “He never talks about himself to me. I didn’t even know he had an estate until this journey.”

 

Rafael’s expression softened. “Ah, that explains it. I did wonder how you could be so cruel as to tempt him into losing everything for one night of pleasure.”

 

“What makes you think
I
tempted
him?
” she said, momentarily nonplussed.

 

“Because Seńor Honorable wouldn’t bed you without extreme provocation. He’s spent most of his life trying to get Arboleda back, and he wouldn’t throw it away easily.”

 

“Why is it so important? What happened with the soldiers? Please tell me. I have to know more before I begin a future with him. Perhaps you could start by explaining how you met?”

 

“In the regiments.” Leaning back, Rafael regarded her consideringly, then let out a long breath. “I’m the bastard of an English soldier and a Spanish camp follower. Diego and I have been friends since he was thirteen and I fifteen. What little I know about his life before that he told me, or I gleaned from Gaspar and Diego’s mother.”

 

“You knew her?”

 

“Briefly. She died of a liver disease shortly after I met her. According to Diego, she was never the same after what happened to his family at Villafranca.”

 

Shock gripped her. “Diego is from Villafranca?”

 

“You’ve heard of it.”

 

Oh, yes. Thanks to her reading, she knew more than she wanted about the horrors that had happened there. During the harum-scarum retreat through the mountains of northwest Spain to La Coruńa, with the French nipping at their heels and their food stores depleted, the English soldiers had swarmed Villafranca like locusts. Maddened by hunger and cold, the worst of them had broken into Spanish storerooms, guzzling the wine, robbing and even murdering any civilian who tried to stop them.

 

By the time the officers had reeled them in, the local Spanish populace had dubbed their “allies”
malditos ladrones,
“damned robbers.” And the French, who’d stormed through next, had finished off any Englishmen lying drunken in the streets, while behaving equally badly to the locals. Villafranca was left shattered, nearly razed to the ground.

 

“You
have
heard of it,” Rafael said as he watched the play of emotions on her face. “Or even remember it. You and your supposed parents were there, right?”

 

“Yes, but I wasn’t yet five. All I remember is the cold and hunger. But years later, while trying to learn more about my parents, I read what occurred on the march.” She shook her head. “I had no idea Diego had lived there.”

 

“Arboleda borders the road to La Coruńa. His parents used to own a vineyard that produced some of the region’s best wine. The estate had been in his family for generations…until the soldiers came through.”

 

Her stomach knotted.
This
was why he’d become a thief in the regiments. “The English soldiers?”

 

“They were the first,” Rafael said coldly. “They ravaged his family’s wine stores. I gather that Diego’s father tried
to reason with them, assuming that Spain’s allies would treat him and his family with respect. But drunken, starving men are no respecters of persons. They ignored him, bullying Diego and his mother, though Diego says little of that. All I know is by the time the soldiers stumbled on, the family was left with nothing to survive the winter or take to market.”

 

“Good Lord,” she whispered.

 

“The French arrived a day later,” Rafael said bitterly. “Diego’s father was so angry he met them with a blunderbuss. They shot him for it.”

 

“They shot him!” she cried. “The monsters!”

 

“Yes, and they set fire to the vineyards. As he lay dying in Diego’s arms, he made Diego promise to take care of his mother and keep Arboleda alive. The place had been in the Montalvo family for generations; it was everything to the old man, and he’d raised Diego to feel the same. Unfortunately, there was little left to preserve once the solders got done.”

 

Stunned by the litany of crimes committed against Diego and his parents, Lucy stared at Rafael, appalled. To have his father die in his arms, to watch his inheritance destroyed. He’d have been only twelve, too young to fight but old enough to remember. The thought made her ill.

 

“But if the French killed his father, why does he rail so against
my
countrymen?”

 

“His family expected mistreatment from the French, but not from the English, their ‘saviors.’ Diego is convinced his father would never have foolishly confronted the French if not for what the English had done. He still doesn’t like either side. You may not realize this, but he’s never performed in France or in England.”

 

Until he’d come after her. Tears welled in Lucy’s eyes. “But he performed for the English regiments. For years.”

 

“He didn’t start out there. He and his mother tried to run the estate, but without the vineyard, it was impossible. Diego was too young and his mother too devastated to recoup their losses.” Rafael drank some coffee. “His father’s creditors took advantage of Diego’s youth to make demands he couldn’t meet, and he and his mother couldn’t satisfy the debts. They had no choice but to sell Arboleda.”

 

“To the
marqués?
”

 

“He’s the most recent owner. It changed hands often before him, but no one managed to revive the vineyards sufficiently to make a go of it.” Rafael planted his elbows on the table. “Anyway, after the estate was sold, Diego took his mother to live with a poor relation in Oporto. The regiments had returned there, so he became a camp follower, determined to wrest from them everything they’d taken from him and his family. He began stealing and cardsharping, partly out of anger, partly to pay for his mother’s medical treatments.”

 

“No one caught him?”

 

“Eventually, yes. Fortunately, it was Gaspar. He told Diego he could either learn to be a magician’s assistant or be handed over to the authorities. Gaspar was no fool. He recognized Diego’s dexterity and amazing skills at cards even then. And I suspect the man knew he couldn’t continue his profession much longer without someone younger to help him.”