Wicked Whispers (17 page)

“Send them away.”

He sobered, growing as serious as she had. “Do you still want me to protect your virtue?”

She didn’t, but there was no other choice. Until he pledged not to stand in the way of her healing, no matter a union, children, or the Inquisition, she could never lie with him. Most men would have called her mad for attaching such a requirement to love. She hoped one day Enrique would be up to the task and would stand by her side in everything she wanted as she did the same with him.

She stroked his jaw. “Please.”

He sighed deeply but nodded. “Do we begin our happiness today?”

“Immediately, beginning with food. Cheese, bread, meat, eggs, olives, oranges, figs, and whatever else your cook can provide. Neither of us has eaten for hours.”

“Closer to a full day. Do you mind sharing your food?”

“With you? Never. Why would you even ask?”

“I never did. I meant with my brothers and the other soldiers. I invited them here to feast as much and as long as they wanted as a way to thank them for their service.”

“I have no qualms as long as they leave me a morsel or two. Come.” She rolled off the bed, stopped at her clothes, and made a face. “You should have told me how filthy I was.”

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his stiffened member. The wonder of his heat, strength, and masculinity had her moaning wantonly.

He rested his chin on her shoulder. “Would you have cared?”

“About what?”

“How filthy your garments were?”

“No. Though I do now. I need my own clothes, a basin of water, and a comb.” She turned into him. “I will not shame you in front of your guests.”

“I doubt you could if you tried.” He kissed her deeply, his love obvious to her. He’d proven himself repeatedly, dispelling most of her doubt, leaving one last hurdle to clear. She hoped these next days would give her the courage to discuss their future, secure their oaths to each other, and move on with a life satisfying to both.

Growling in delight, he finished their kiss and pulled his mouth free. “Wait here. And I do mean here, nowhere else. Upon my return, you shall have water, clothes, a comb, and whatever else you need.”

* * * *

For once, Sancha obeyed him, offering a broad smile as though he’d returned from several years at war, rather than taking a few minutes to gather needed items in her bedchamber. After she’d scrubbed herself, combed her hair, and dressed with his help, she folded her hands in front, rather than lacing her fingers through his, so they could go to the dining hall together.

He didn’t want to guess why she hadn’t. “Have you changed your mind about the meal?”

“No. But we should arrive separately to avoid talk.”

He remembered how Fernando had brought Isabella to the fortaleza dressed as a boy with their nuptials happening a short time later, the soldiers in attendance. To the best of Enrique’s knowledge, none of those men had dared gossip, fearful of Fernando’s sword. “As you wish.”

He left her in his room, praying she would come down rather than burying herself in her books, her desire to be happy with him already a distant consideration.

She entered the dining hall, as promised. He sat at the head of a long table, capable of accommodating fifty, the same as the rest of the tables. Enrique pushed to his feet immediately, as did Tomás, Pedro, and the others.

She paled a bit at the attention but still held herself like a queen, her beauty unrivaled, hair falling to her waist in soft waves, the color vibrant, threads of gold making the auburn tint seem even deeper. Pink bloomed in her cheeks. Her sapphire-blue gown was simple yet elegant, complementing her perfect form.

He held out a chair for her next to his. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did. You?”

“Very much.”

He wasn’t certain if their act fooled anyone. Tomás and Pedro appeared skeptical, smiling slightly.

Once she’d sat, the men resumed eating with abandon.

Pedro smiled sweetly at her. “Guillermo asked me to give you his thanks.”

She stopped reaching for the pork. “Guillermo?”

“The boy you gave your bread to. He said every bite was delicious.”

She smiled. “How wonderful.”

Enrique offered the cheese to her. She didn’t notice, her attention still on Pedro, expression worried. “How is his cousin?”

“The man you—”

“Pedro, hand me the eggs.” Enrique wiggled his fingers for them.

His brother looked at the ones near him then those closer to Sancha. “You have some over—”

“So we do. Has anyone questioned the Moor I have in my storage room?”

“I did.” Tomás finished his goblet of wine and wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. “He told me nothing. Once we return to the fortaleza, I intend to keep at him until he does.”

“As you should,” Enrique said. “Using a napkin rather than your hand would also be nice.”

Tomás scowled.

Enrique asked Pedro questions about the attack, followed by more questions for the other men, keeping them occupied. He hardly wanted Sancha to discuss her healing in front of the soldiers.

She seemed to have realized his concern, no longer staring at him as though he’d grown another head.

Once Tomás finished what was on his plate, he stood. His men shot to their feet.

Tomás offered a gallant bow. “Your hospitality is sublime, but we need to return to our duties. Brother, beauteous Sancha”—he inclined his head to both—“I hope we can see each other again soon.”

“Certainly not because of a raid,” Pedro said.

Tomás arched one eyebrow.

“Adios.” Enrique dismissed them with an impatient gesture. “Be certain to take the Moor with you. Tomás, a word?”

His brother leaned down to him.

Enrique whispered, “Tell Pedro to be quiet about Sancha’s healing.”

“I had already planned to.”

The moment the men’s footfalls had faded, she touched Enrique’s hand. “Forgive me.”

“For what?”

“Worrying whether they would gossip if you and I had come in here together but not once thinking to keep quiet about my work.”

“No harm done.” He wrapped his fingers around hers. “I kept them occupied on other matters as Tomás had at the village, so none saw what you did.”

“I should be more careful.”

“Agreed.”

She lowered her face.

“You need not quit. Just be more careful.”

“I will.”

He smiled as she did and kissed her fingertips. “Have you had your fill of food?”

“I have.”

“Come.” He caressed her fingers. “I have something to show you.”

He brought her to the kennels. Since she’d moved here, he’d instructed his servants to keep the dogs away from the castle, fearing the animals would disturb her studies or frighten her.

At the first yip, she pulled her hand from his and hurried into the building, as airy and clean as her rooms. By the time he entered, she was on her knees, holding a galgo pup to her cheek.

“How could you keep her from me?” She pushed out her bottom lip. “How dare you.”

He laughed. “If you love her so much, you can tend to her all you want. The pup is newly weaned and yours.”

She kissed the dog’s long snout. “She will surely miss her mamá.”

“Make her forget. Make her happy.”

The pup licked her neck. She giggled. “What should I call her? Wait—I have it. Rosa.”

Perfect. The dog’s name matched Sancha’s wonderful fragrance. He instructed his servants to place a blanket in a basket for the pup so she could take Rosa with them as they enjoyed their first hours of pursuing happiness.

* * * *

Enrique wasn’t certain what was best: their long walks, her interest in his work with the estate, or their pleasant meals on the balcony, in the garden, and several times near the edge of the hill, where they had an unrestricted view of his property.

There were so many things to do and for him to show her that they didn’t end up at the pond until three days later, near midnight.

With her nudity pressed to his, she suckled his throat.

He grinned so hard, his cheeks hurt. “Are you certain you want to go into the water?” He was perfectly happy to stay on the blanket within each other’s arms.

“Can you teach me to swim here?”

He laughed. “No.”

“The water it is.” She pushed to her feet. “I challenge you to a race.”

He propped himself on one elbow and looked over. She’d offered her challenge when she was already steps from him. “Go on, keep running. Even if you fly, I will best you.”

She curled her upper lip.

He sprinted, catching her before she reached the pond, and lifted her into his arms. She squealed.

“Now, you learn to swim.” He entered the water.

“No.” She buried her face in his chest. “If you throw me in as your papá did with you, I will surely drown.”

Not likely. She was strong enough to teach a man how to be brave. Someday, she would be his in every way. Smiling, he lowered her into the water and had her float first to ease her fear.

After several minutes, she frowned. “I tire of this. Challenge me.”

He became the stern taskmaster, putting Sancha through her paces until she swam on her own. Not well, but skill would come on the other days where they sought to be naught but happy.

After eating their late meal, they sauntered back to the castle. Rosa was in her basket, asleep, at the bottom of the grand stairway. The servant who’d tended her bowed slightly and left for bed, given the hour.

Sancha stroked the galgo’s head.

A letter lay on a cabinet to the side, left there without the servants telling him. His fault, not theirs. He’d given them stern instructions not to disturb him and Sancha. The missive had Fernando’s seal on the back, Sancha’s name scrawled on the front.

“For you.” He handed her the unopened letter.

She stepped into the candlelight, head bent as she read, complexion draining of color.

“What is it?” He prayed Fernando hadn’t take a bad turn from his previous injuries or that Isabella had lost the baby.

Sancha looked past him at a horror only she could see.

He touched her arm. “What happened?”

She handed him the letter. He regarded her for a moment, then read the missive.

My dearest Sancha,

You are my sweet sister, my best friend, without you I would die.

My greatest hope had always been to send you naught but good tidings about my coming child, a son if God will, and of Fernando’s and my great happiness.

I am pained to have to tell you this. Rumors are flying about you. Foul words as to you not wedding, refusing to have children as a woman should, you lying about being at the convent (someone inquired and found you have not been there in some time).

Some are saying only a witch would shun marriage and children, as she has already wed the Devil to do his work.

Fernando is trying to learn who is spreading these horrible lies. He promises to run them through when he learns their names.

Sancha, I fear for your safety. Please, you must protect yourself without delay.

I am so sorry to have to tell you any of this.

Your loving sister,

Isabella

Sancha sank to the stairs, unable to stop trembling. Although the evening was mild, a deep chill settled into her.

Enrique sat close and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “All is not lost.”

She looked at him, knowing their time together had ended.

“I promise to protect you.”

How? He was one man against how many faceless accusers. To say anything in her defense would put him at risk. She pulled away, unable to allow him to endanger himself.

“Sancha, please.” He gathered her to him, his caress gentle yet firm, not allowing her to escape.

She dug her fingers into his shirt. “I only wanted to help others, to learn what I could. How could anything so innocent be wrong? How could anyone say such horrible things about…” She was unable to breathe suddenly. Lightheaded, she clung to him.

He brushed his lips over her ear. “We should speak in my room, lest the servants overhear us.”

With them spreading more lies. Nowhere was safe, free of fear and the reprisals of others who would claim what she’d said or had done was wrong. She wanted to run from the castle and never stop but couldn’t move, her legs leaden, thoughts too scattered to make any plan.

She feared what would happen now, if soldiers were already on their way to arrest her. She had no idea where the Inquisition kept its prisoners. Or whether anyone would listen to the truth concerning her healing, how she’d done nothing more than help others. No matter what she claimed, the inquisitors wouldn’t listen or care.

She shivered again.

The galgo yipped.

“Rosa.” Sancha cleared her throat, surprised at how odd she sounded, as though she’d been crying. She touched her face, damp with tears, not understanding when she’d started to weep. “I have to talk care of the pup.”

On her feet, she stopped at the cabinet where Enrique had found Isabella’s letter. A new fear gripped Sancha as to whether her sister and the babe she carried were safe.

Enrique slipped the missive in his belt and rested his hand on her arm. “We need to go upstairs.”

“I have to get Rosa.” She had to hide her before the authorities harmed the gentle pup, claiming she was also evil because her owner was a witch.

“Once I have you in my room, I can return for her.” He swept Sancha into his arms.

She twisted his shirt in her fist. “Make certain no one harms her.”

He gave her an odd look. “No one will, I assure you.” He carried her to his chamber and lowered her to the mattress. Candlelight shone from every part of the room as he always ordered. “We can talk as soon as I return.” He gave her the letter.

She grabbed his sleeve before he could leave her side. “Isabella cannot come to harm. She behaves as a warrior, believing she can fight everyone. You have to stop her before she also meets ruin.”

“No one will harm her or you. I give you my word, as Fernando will. Stay here.”