Kissed by Shadows (16 page)

“Aren't you going to have any?” she asked with a lazily resurgent conscience.

“I brought them for you.” He bent over her, holding a piece of fruit just above her mouth.

The clear gray eyes held her own.

And she saw it again. The giant bird, the predatory beak, sharp gray eyes.

“No . . . no thank you,” she said, pushing his hand aside. “You eat the rest. I think I've had sufficient.” She sat up, moving sideways so that she was once more resting on the cushions, but she kept a space between their bodies.

Lionel popped the berry into his own mouth. He leaned sideways for the flagon again, took another draught, making his movements casual, matter-of-fact, as if he could not feel the tension radiating from her, as if he was unaware of the dreadful anxiety that emanated from her like an aura.

“I have mead.” He stretched sideways for the other flagon. He pulled the top with his teeth and passed it to her.

“My thanks.” Pippa took a sip. “Forgive me . . . I . . . I had a strange dream last night that I couldn't remember. But for some reason I'm remembering bits of it now, and 'tis making me uncomfortable. I don't know why.”

She laughed, a nervous and unconvincing laugh. “Pregnancy probably. Everything can be explained away by pregnancy.”

Lionel slid an arm beneath her and drew her against him. Her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder. “Bad dreams come at any time,” he said. “Try to sleep now. I'll hold you safe.”

His voice soothed her. She trusted him. It was hardly surprising that her dreams these days reflected confused images of cruelty and helplessness. After what Stuart had done to her . . .

But in Lionel's arms she could sleep in safety. He was her perfect match. She would trust him with her life.

Thirteen

Dona Bernardina awoke from her siesta rather earlier than usual. She lay in her darkened bedchamber with the now familiar sense that something felt awry, as if the calm routine of her daily life had been disturbed. She sat up, gathering her chamber robe around her, and rose from the bed.

She peered in the half-light at the face of the little clock on the mantel. It told her it was barely three in the afternoon. She always slept until four, when she took a light
merienda
to tide her over until she and Luisa sat down for their evening meal at eight.

She drew aside the curtains. It was an overcast afternoon, with a hint of autumn in the air, now that the heat wave had broken. She looked down at the garden. There was only a gardener to be seen, pruning the roses that still bloomed vigorously in the bed that bordered the terrace. At the end of the garden the strip of the river showed as a dull gray.

Bernardina drew her robe tighter around her. The cloudy skies and the dull river made her cold and she wished she was back in her native Seville under the brassy skies and the heat of the midafternoon sun that hammered itself into the white cobbles of the interior patio of the Mendoza residence. There she would sit with Luisa's mother, feeling the heat in her bones, lazily fanning herself, sipping a cooling drink amid the scents of jasmine, oranges, and roses, while the fountain plashed and Luisa practiced her harp in the shade of the colonnaded cloister.

Luisa was such a good child. She never gave her duenna a moment's anxiety. She was always sweetly obedient to her mother's dictates . . . until the unfortunate marriage proposal.

Bernardina turned from the window, shaking her head. Then they had seen a different side of their girl. She had been obdurate. Polite, quiet, but utterly determined in her refusal to accept the Marques de Perez as her husband. She had insisted that her father would not have compelled her to accept a marriage distasteful to her, and her dear mother had had to agree.

Dona Maria had appealed to Don Ashton as her late husband's confidant and family friend. He had supported Luisa in the private discussions he had had with her mother, and then had offered to take her to England with him. It had seemed like salvation to Luisa's distraught mother, and Dona Bernardina had shouldered the burden of accompanying the child without a word of complaint.

Now, however, she deeply regretted her sacrifice. Nothing was right, nothing was as it was supposed to be. Luisa was not the sweet girl she had known. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something was different. And Don Ashton was not fulfilling his promised duties as guardian.

Bernardina's mouth pursed and she nodded her head in vigorous agreement with her reflections. Grasping her robe ever more tightly around her as if to shield herself from the evil influences this dreadful land contained, she left her bedchamber and went along the corridor to Luisa's.

She tapped on the door. There was no answer. Luisa had dutifully gone for her siesta after their midday meal. Perhaps she was still asleep? Dona Bernardina softly opened the door.

The chamber was in full light, the windows unshuttered, the curtains drawn back. The bed was empty, no indentation of a head on the pillow.

Bernardina closed the door at her back. She looked around. Every instinct rebelled at the idea of snooping among Luisa's possessions but surely she had a responsibility. If the lax moral climate in this wretched country was corrupting her charge, then Bernardina had a duty to Luisa's mother to put a stop to it.

She opened drawers in the chest, peered into the armoire, but her heart was not in it. She saw nothing to confirm her suspicions and was not prepared to dig and delve.

Her unease unabated, Bernardina returned to her own chamber and rang the handbell for her maid.

“I will dress, Ana.”

Ana was one of the few servants they had been able to bring from Seville; room on the boats that had transported the party had been hard to come by. Ana had served Bernardina for twenty years and despite her years was still spry and still had an ear to servants' gossip.

She helped her mistress into the formal gown without which Bernardina would not show her face downstairs, even if there was no one in the house but herself.

“Have you seen Dona Luisa this afternoon?” Bernardina inquired casually, adjusting her mantilla.

“No, madam. Is she not in her chamber?”

“I expect she went for a walk,” Bernardina said. “Or perhaps for a ride with that Malcolm.”

“Malcolm has gone into the city, madam. He had some errands to run for Don Ashton.”

“I see.” Bernardina offered a smile that she hoped was casual enough to deflect Ana's curiosity. “I don't care for this mantilla, Ana. Bring me the black one with the gold embroidery.”

Bernardina made her stately progress downstairs just as the master of the house came in through the front door.

Lionel cast aside his cloak, tossed his riding whip onto the bench by the door, and stripped off his gloves. He saw Bernardina standing both hesitant and expectant on the bottom step of the staircase.

“Dona Bernardina.” He bowed, trying to conceal his impatience. Everything about the woman shouted a need to unburden herself about something. And that something had to be Luisa. He was already feeling guilty about his neglect of his ward, but he couldn't seem to find the time to devote his energies to her concerns.

“I must beg a few minutes of your time, Don Ashton.” Bernardina stepped down as she spoke and offered him a hurried curtsy.

Lionel sighed inaudibly. “Indeed, madam. I am at your disposal.” He gestured towards the parlor. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask where Luisa was, but prescience bit his tongue.

“Don Ashton, I am very concerned about Luisa,” Bernardina began.

Prescience could not be faulted. He nodded, perching on the carved arm of a gilt chair. “What is the trouble, madam?”

“I don't know exactly,” Bernardina said. “But she is not in the house at the moment, and I believe it is not the first time.”

Lionel frowned. “She is not a prisoner, Dona Bernardina.”

The woman's faded complexion took on a pinkish hue. “That may be so, but it would be only courteous of her to inform me, her duenna, of where she is going. Instead she slips out when I am asleep. That is not right, Don Ashton.”

“You have no idea where she is?”

The woman shook her head. “She has become very secretive, that is another thing. She always confided in me before, but now she has secrets, I
know
it.”

Lionel's frown deepened. “She is a young woman now, madam. 'Tis only natural that she should wish for some privacy.”

Bernardina shook her head vigorously. “No, that is not the way a young Spanish maiden should behave.”

“Well, tell me exactly what you suspect.”

“I do not
know,
” Bernardina declared. “That is why I am so worried.”

“If you do not know, I cannot see what I can do.” Lionel's impatience crept into his voice. He couldn't imagine what harm Luisa could come to. If she went out riding she had Malcolm with her, if she went on the river she had the boatmen.

“You have allowed her too much freedom, Don Ashton,” Bernardina said, her color growing higher. “If you had not encouraged her to ride out by herself, she would not have taken strange notions into her head.”

“But what
are
these strange notions?”

Bernardina's mouth pursed. Again she could put no words to her suspicions because apart from her present absence Luisa had said or done nothing apparently out of the ordinary. And yet her duenna
knew
that something was going on.

“Would you like me to talk to her?” Lionel offered, seeing the woman's wordless distress.

“Yes, and you must tell her that she may no longer leave the house without my permission, and you must dismiss that Malcolm.”

It was a social taboo for Bernardina to give the master of the house orders or to use such a peremptory tone and it told Lionel that Bernardina was even more upset than he'd thought.

He said gently, “Let's not overreact, madam. There can be no harm in her going out with Malcolm's escort. I will talk with her this evening.”

Bernardina shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with a corner of her mantilla. “If harm should befall her, Don Ashton, I will have to answer to her mother.”

“No harm will befall her. What possibly could happen to her?” He was once more impatient.

Bernardina turned her head aside and whispered, “Men,” as if the word was almost too evil to be spoken aloud.

Lionel might have laughed, except that he understood the seriousness of such a fear for an aristocratic Spanish matron in charge of an aristocratic Spanish maiden. “Oh, come now, madam, Luisa hasn't met any men,” he pointed out. “She's not been to court, she has no society.”

“Nevertheless, she has come under some evil influence.” Bernardina nodded vigorously.

This struck Lionel as overstating the case, but he made no attempt to argue with her. She was clearly distraught. “Very well, I will talk with her this evening,” he repeated. “Now you must excuse me, Dona Bernardina, I have an audience with the king in an hour.” He bowed and turned to the door.

It opened and Luisa stood there, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. “Why, Don Ashton, we don't usually see you at this hour.”

He regarded her closely. “I understand you've been out of the house, Luisa. Dona Bernardina was concerned.”

“Oh, Bernardina, why would you be concerned? You know I cannot sleep in the daytime. I went for a walk in the garden and a stroll by the river. What harm can there be in that?”

“What indeed?” Lionel agreed, glancing at Bernardina. “There, madam, I told you there was nothing to worry about.”

Bernardina saw that whatever support she might have gained from Don Ashton was now gone. He was palpably relieved at Luisa's reappearance and clearly only too happy to accept her innocent explanation, one that Bernardina herself didn't believe for a moment.

“There is mud on your shoes and on the hem of your gown.” She pointed to the offending dirt with a moue of distaste. “That is most indecorous, Luisa.”

“I explained that I was walking along the river,” Luisa said with a sharp edge to her voice. “'Tis muddy there.”

Bernardina tried one more shot before Don Ashton could make his escape. “Did you meet with anyone while you were walking?”

Luisa shook her head. She modified her tone, saying reasonably, “I don't believe so, Bernardina. Oh, I may have exchanged a word with the gardener, and I believe I passed a fisherman or two along the bank.” She shrugged. “Is there anything wrong in that?”

Bernardina was defeated. She could see it in Don Ashton's expression.

He said cheerfully, attempting to dispel the strained atmosphere, “Well, I will leave you two ladies to enjoy your afternoon. If I can I will sup with you this evening.”

“Perhaps you could bring a guest?” Luisa suggested, gazing up at him with wide-eyed innocence. “It would be so enlivening to see a fresh face and have someone new to talk to.”

Bernardina drew a sharp breath and Lionel's eyes narrowed. It was not Luisa's place to make such a suggestion and she certainly wouldn't have done so at home in her parents' house. He looked at her more closely. There
was
something different about her. An air of self-possession that he hadn't noticed before. And her deep blue eyes were particularly bright and shiny, as if something had pleased and excited her.

He was about to dismiss her request when it occurred to him that there really was nothing objectionable to the idea. It would salve his conscience a little if he could give her some outside entertainment, and since the guests would be chosen by him Dona Bernardina could not really protest.

He turned to the duenna. “Would it put the household out too much if I invited a couple of guests for supper this evening, madam? It is short notice, I know.”

Bernardina bridled. “Why, of course there would be no difficulty, Don Ashton. I ensure that the household is provisioned and run well enough to accommodate twenty people at table at the shortest of notice.”

He offered a placatory bow. “I know your talents, madam, and appreciate them every day.”

Bernardina smiled for the first time in the interview. Indeed the prospect of guests pleased her almost as much as it did Luisa. She would enjoy organizing the supper party, something she had done often in Seville. Her mind was already turning to menus.

“How many guests should we expect, Don Ashton?”

Lionel considered. An idea had come to him. He could see a way to make this supper party both pleasurable and also useful.

“No more than two, I believe,” he replied. “But I cannot guarantee that at such short notice the guests I have in mind will be free, so you mustn't be too disappointed, Luisa, if it can't be managed today. If not I will arrange it for another day.”

Luisa lowered her eyes as she curtsied, murmuring, “You are so kind, Don Ashton. I know I plague you unmercifully.”

“Not quite unmercifully,” he said dryly. “But it does seem that you cause your duenna some concern. It would please me if you would be a little more considerate.”