Passionate Pursuit (29 page)

“Of course, my main hope was to have her bear a son by one of them. Your birth was so disappointing. No noble wants a female. Only a male heir would work to my advantage. I wanted to kill your mother after she lost a duke’s child and the physician said she could never conceive again. She was as frustrating to me as you were, but I made her pay every day of her life for failing me.”

Her mother had warned her.
He is not what you think.

Beatriz wished she could kill him.

He rested his hands on his cane and studied her. “Now you know how determined I am to reach my goal, as Don Larnaz found out.”

No longer pompous and assured, Don Larnaz pressed against the carriage, the same as a beaten dog eyeing its tormentor.

“I expect you to still call me papá.” He leaned back. “But know this. No fatherly love lives in me for you. I would murder you in a moment if doing so served my purpose. If you defy me in the least, including killing yourself before at least one male heir arrives, I will see Tomás dead.”

She gripped the seat to keep from lunging. “Leave Tomás out of this.”

“As long as you obey, nothing untoward will happen to him. The man will meet another woman, fall in love, have no end of children, and forget you existed.”

Tears clouded her eyes. “Harm him and I will see you dead.”

“Empty words. You have no power against me so keep your tongue and use these moments to rest. Our ride to the sacerdote is long. The wedding night that follows will be the beginning of your new life, being a wife to Don Larnaz, bearing many children for him. I intend to make good matches for them when the time comes, with those unions giving me what should have been mine all along.”

Beatriz wished he were dead. She struggled for a way to stop this and send him to the Devil.

* * * *

Tomás rode to the crest of the highest hill overlooking the valley, Fernando behind him. The city was to the east, Larnaz’s castle to the north. Tomás searched forested areas leading to the marquis’s land.

“There.” Fernando pointed.

Riders streamed from their brother’s estate, surely Enrique and his guards.

“Look.” Tomás swung his arm to the right. Riders raced from where Gabriello and Alfonso lived. They’d gathered men as numerous as Enrique’s. “Check the road to the city while I watch the one leading to Larnaz’s land.”

They searched for what seemed an eternity. Tomás wiped sweat from his eyes and strained to see more.

Fernando shook his head. “No riders or carriages here.”

In an opening in the trees, metal glinted in the sun. Blue flashed. A horse’s white mane appeared. “To the right.” Tomás pointed at the carriage, surely Larnaz’s. “Alert Enrique and his men where to go. I can tell Alfonso, Gabriello, and the others. We meet together down there.”

He and Fernando clasped arms, then rode hard.

* * * *

Never again would Beatriz think of Serrano as her father. Relief rather than sadness filled her. Now, she could hate him without guilt and plot against him as he’d done with others.

She wanted his cane. She’d have to be strong and fast, taking him by surprise, pummeling him until he lay still. With him felled, gaining Don Larnaz’s sword and dagger would be an easy matter. The man had proved he was naught but bluster, hardly the fiend Beatriz had heard about.

Of course, there were still the servants to consider. And Rufio.

Beating him with the cane, forcing him back until he fled into a field or a copse would be a pleasure. The other men might be easier or more difficult to manage. A sword and dagger in her hands should gain their cooperation. What man would want to die to protect Don Larnaz or the puto Serrano?

The carriage jolted as Tomás’s had earlier.

She grabbed the seat.

A thunderous sound rolled toward them, dozens of hooves striking the ground. Don Larnaz’s horses squealed, hurting her ears.

She pulled the velvet curtain back.

Serrano slapped her hand.

Beatriz kicked his shin three times. Before he could recover from his shock, she lunged toward him and rammed her fist into his jaw. His head snapped back.

The carriage lurched again.

Whimpering, Don Larnaz held on to the seat.

Men shouted.

Rufio begged for mercy.

The carriage teetered to a stop.

She pushed the door open.

Serrano grabbed her skirt, ripping the silk, losing his hold. Swearing, he clutched her hair.

Beatriz shouted and rammed her elbow into his chest.

His hand dropped away, and she scrambled out of the coach.

Fernando and countless other men were at the rear of the carriage.

She screamed, “Tomás!”

He rode from the front, dismounted, and ran to her.

Serrano jumped from the carriage and grabbed her cloak.

She punched his hands, kicked his shins, clawed his face, and screamed, “Kill him! He is not my father!”

* * * *

Men quieted. Animals settled too.

Relieved Beatriz wasn’t harmed, Tomás drew his sword.

She twisted away from Serrano.

Tomás motioned to her. “In back of me.”

She scooted behind him.

Serrano tried to follow, but Tomás lifted his blade to the puto’s heart. Killing him would be easy. All he needed to do was finish the job Beatriz had started. Serrano’s mouth was bloodied, doublet and robe askew, face scratched. He was at least twenty years older than Tomás with much of his body gone soft.

Tomás looked over at Beatriz. “Are you all right?”

“I am now. Kill him. Please.”

“For you, anything. May I ask who is he?”

The man growled. “I
am
her father.”

“Liar.” She grabbed Tomás’s arm. “He told me everything in the carriage. How he wed my mother, but was never my papá. He beat mamá and drove her to the grave. He threatened to kill me if I refused to wed Don Larnaz. He said he would murder you if I resisted what he wanted. Ask the marquis.”

Fernando glanced around. “Where is he?”

A guard pointed. “Trying to escape into the forest.”

Several men hauled Don Larnaz to Beatriz.

The marquis cowered like a frightened child. He pointed at a man in the group. “What is the alguacil doing here?”

“He means to arrest you for kidnapping my betrothed.” Tomás glared. “And for harming my guards.”

“No, no, no.” Don Larnaz waved his hands in front of himself. “Señor Serrano forced me into this.”

“Quiet, fool.” Serrano stepped toward him.

Don Larnaz ran to the alguacil. “I beg of you, protect me from him. I never wanted any part of this.”

Serrano bared his teeth. “Quiet.”

Don Larnaz bounced on his feet. “He threatened me, Beatriz, and Don Tomás too.”

“So.” Tomás stalked toward Serrano, blade raised. “You think you can harm me?”

“No. Never.” Serrano tried out a smile. “You misunderstand.”

“Do I?” Tomás sliced Serrano’s dark green doublet, not yet reaching skin. “Come now, tell me what I misunderstand.”

“Beatriz
is
my daughter. I was only trying to frighten her so she would—”

“Frighten her?” Tomás lifted his eyebrows. “Like this?’ He slashed the man’s sleeve.

Serrano backed away.

Enrique pushed him back toward Tomás.

“The truth.” Tomás rested the tip of his blade on the man’s throat. “Or I will run you through where you stand. The last thing you see on this earth will be my smile.”

“And mine,” Beatriz said.

Tomás loved her more than he believed possible. He winked. She did too. He focused on Serrano. “Talk.”

Serrano turned to the alguacil. “Stop him from harming me.”

The man frowned. “Stop who?”

“Him.” Serrano flung his hand at Tomás.

The alguacil lifted his shoulders. “Why?”

“Are you mad in addition to being deaf?” Serrano gritted his teeth. “He threatened me.”

“I heard no threat.” He regarded the others. “Has anyone else?”

A chorus of “No” rose through the crowd.

Rufio kept his tongue, docile as a lamb between the two guards gripping his arms.

“Talk.” Tomás drew blood from Serrano’s throat. “Or die. Your choice.” Killing him would be a privilege for what he’d put Beatriz and her mamá through.

As the sun dipped below the trees and hills, the puto told his hideous tale of greed. Every time he tried to make himself sound like a victim, Beatriz stopped him. “Again, he lies.”

Repeatedly, Tomás flicked his blade on the swine’s throat for not telling the truth. Soon there were enough nicks to bleed him as the surgeon had done to Tomás when he’d fallen ill.

The lies finally stopped, naught but truth came out. The alguacil led Serrano away.

Beatriz slumped against Tomás.

He sheathed his blade and took her into his arms. “Did he hurt you?”

“A few bruises.”

“Swine. I should run him through.”

“No.” She tightened her arms around him. “Stay with me.”

“Always.”

“Take me home,” she cried.

Gladly.

A month later…

Beatriz crossed her bedchamber, a room she’d grown to love. After today, she’d never sleep here again.

Yolanda leaned out the window, face raised to the sky. “Not a cloud anywhere, just the sun. No one could ask for better.” She pushed back inside and bounced on her heels. “Lovely afternoon for a wedding.”

Indeed. With people Beatriz loved in attendance. Besides Yolanda, Isabella was here. Sancha had arrived days before. She was as beautiful as her sister, her auburn tresses threaded with gold, eyes a rich brown rather than blue-green. Both women took Beatriz’s bright yellow gown from the wardrobe, the silk adorned with pearls and glittery beads. She and Tomás had chosen the dress as their favorite among those he’d commissioned for her. Today, she’d wear their choice as they finally joined as man and wife forever.

“I just thought of something.” Isabella draped a chemise over her arm. “Beatriz is the first to wed a de Zayas brother after posting banns.”

With Serrano held by the authorities for his crimes, and Don Larnaz eagerly bowing out, there wasn’t any need to hide the impending union.

“True,” Sancha said. “At last, one of us did this the right way.”

Isabella nodded. “None too soon, either. How many sacerdotes are there, especially ones willing to wed a couple in secret because of friendship, like what happened with you and Enrique? Not a lot I would wager. Which only leaves holy men susceptible to bribes or those easily fooled like the one who wed Fernando and me when I—”

Beatriz cleared her throat loudly and inclined her head to Yolanda. The girl was all eyes and ears.

“Right.” Isabella looked sternly at the child. “Tell me the rule about what you hear within these walls.”

“Never repeat a word to another soul and forget everything promptly.”

“Such a treasure. Turning into quite the beauty too.”

Yolanda blushed. Her new clothes had arrived. The child’s gowns were in silk or velvet, simply designed yet elegant. Today, she wore the light blue frock, her favorite. With her dark hair in a braid adorned with flowers, she hinted at the exquisite woman she’d be someday. Bright too.

“May I show everyone what you gave me earlier?” Beatriz asked.

Yolanda’s rosy cheeks bloomed red. “Long as no one laughs.”

“Never,” Isabella said.

Sancha smiled gently. “You can trust us to be kind.”

“Go on then.” Yolanda still wrapped her arms around herself, bracing for cruel judgment.

Not a chance. Beatriz adored the child. She gave her a tender look and unfolded the paper Yolanda had offered as a wedding gift. At the top was the alphabet, drawn much smaller now than during her first lesson, though her hand was still unsteady. Beneath the letters, she’d printed
Good Wishes
.

Happy tears rolled down Beatriz’s cheeks.

Yolanda slumped. “Is it so awful?”

“Beautiful. The most wondrous thing I have ever seen.” She hugged the girl.

Sancha looked next and applauded the effort.

Isabella winked at Yolanda. “Well done.”

She blushed hotly. “Don Tomás helped me over several days, until I got the words right.”

Such a good man. Beatriz marveled at her luck in finding him. “I intend to have this framed to hang on the wall.”

“Oh no.” Yolanda laughed self-consciously but looked pleased too, proud of what she’d accomplished.

Isabella shook out the chemise. “Best we get Beatriz ready before Tomás and the other men storm this room, asking when, or if, the ceremony will start.”

They were getting married on the lawn just as Beatriz had fantasized. Tomás’s papá had traveled from the north to attend. He was outside now with his sons, except for Pedro, who was still fighting for the Crown. Their sister, Catarina, was on her way with husband and son.

Yolanda leaned out the window again. “Looks to me like the men are having a grand time. Some of them are playing dice on a blanket. My guess is they have wine in their goblets, not milk.”

Beatriz joined her.

Fernando, Gabriello, and Enrique played dice, Enrique’s white forelock a startling contrast to his dark hair. Back from battle he’d found distasteful, Dominico stood nearby to officiate. Alfonso and the brothers’ papá each held a goblet, sipping their drinks and conversing.

Tomás stood apart from the others, face tipped to Beatriz. He smiled.

She sagged against the window frame, warmth gliding through her. The tenderness and heat in his gaze promised a future she never believed existed and couldn’t resist. Grinning, Beatriz held up her forefinger, asking for a moment.

He mouthed, “Hurry,” or “harem.” Either way, she wasn’t about to keep him waiting.

She ducked back into the room. “Ladies, we have no time to waste.”

Juana and Bartolomé gurgled, both infants on the bed.

With three sets of hands helping her, Beatriz was soon ready, her gown buttoned and laced, hair free, except for two long braids to hold a garland on her head. Long yellow ribbons dangled from the back of the flowers.

Hardly a proper style for a Spanish noblewoman, but Beatriz didn’t care. Pleasing Tomás and herself mattered most.