Passionate Pursuit (24 page)

“At once.” She ran from the room.

Isabella closed the door. “Fernando is right. I need to watch my tongue.” She joined Beatriz by the bed. “Have you thought of fleeing to another land with Tomás until your papá gives up?”

“He never will. He sees naught except what he wants.”

“My uncle was the same. I begged Fernando to take us to Portugal to protect himself. He refused, wanting to stay and fight for what he thought was mine, not Sancha’s. Even after he knew who I was, he insisted on going after Don Rodrigo.”

“Tomás boasts of his time in battle as though those days will keep him from harm forever.”

“Men are far too obstinate, thinking they know everything. Will you speak to your papá if he requests an audience?”

She cringed. “I dread reading a missive from him.” She told Isabella about Nuncio’s trip to the city. “I hoped for his quick return to know what Tomás and I are going to face. Not that my father is one to give his plans away.” She wrung her hands. “I worry for Nuncio.”

“Is he easily swayed? Will he help your papá?”

“Never. He would die for Tomás. I worry my father will take him hostage, threatening to harm the poor man unless I return. Something must have happened to keep him past dusk.”

Isabella wrapped her arm around Beatriz’s shoulders. “I know how you worry. Even so, only a madman would risk his reputation and the authorities coming down on him to get what he wants.”

“No one has ever opposed my father before, especially a woman. He destroyed my mother and meant to cow me as he had her. I have no idea what his plans are, or what he may have talked Don Larnaz into doing.”

“Unless the marquis plans to storm the castle, he has little hope of doing anything. Until Nuncio returns with your father’s response, your only choice is to wait and make your plans based on what he says.”

Or flee and disappear forever, giving Tomás a more peaceful future.

“Are you thinking about leaving?” Isabella asked. “If you do, Tomás will follow and try to bring you back.”

“Not if he believes I fear Papá beyond anything else. What woman wants a life constantly looking over her shoulder or dreads becoming a widow, forced into a second marriage with a brute? All I have to do is convince Tomás I want an end to this madness by never seeing him or my father again.”

“Although women have succeeded in deceiving men since time began, you will never fool Tomás. The man would have to be blind not to see how you feel about him even if you say otherwise. Best you stay here with us and face this.”

Light footsteps sounded in the hall.

“You may want to smile too.” Isabella cupped Beatriz’s chin. “No need to alarm Yolanda with your mood. The child may take off to slay your papá and the marquis on her own. Then where would you be with your personal maid having to face the
alguacil
?”

Beatriz laughed at the prospect of dear Yolanda facing the sheriff, so eager to please she’d undoubtedly confess without pause, offer to launder the man’s clothes, clean his house, prepare a meal, and finish the day by making candles for him.

“There now.” Isabella smiled. “Until Nuncio returns, what say we have some fun?”

Despite her concerns, Beatriz did relax, hope pulsing through her for an end to problems and the beginning of a new life.

Isabella ran the damp cloth over Beatriz’s face and neck, leaving a faint rose scent. She brushed Beatriz’s hair until the tresses shone. After braiding a portion, Isabella selected a caul to match the gown.

“No, please. Tomás wants my hair loose.”

“Loose it shall be.” She tossed the caul back into the wooden box. “We should give our men precisely what they want, but only when we feel inclined to do so, never before.”

Yolanda drank in the converse. If she paid this much attention to reading and writing, she’d master the skills within days.

Beatriz caught Isabella’s eye and inclined her head to the girl.

“Right. My tongue again.” Isabella spoke to Yolanda. “Pay no attention to what I say in here. Promise to forget every word immediately.”

“Can I keep listening?”

Beatriz crossed her arms. “As long as you repeat nothing.”

“I would never.”

Isabella grinned at Beatriz. “We have an ally.”

Once she’d finished with Beatriz’s hair, Isabella laced her into the gown. Yolanda saw to the buttons. Together, they adjusted or smoothed hair and silk, the way one would when preparing a woman for a meeting with the queen or her own wedding. Beatriz allowed herself to dream of marrying Tomás. If given the choice, she’d have the ceremony on the lawn, the grass cool and damp beneath their feet, a soft breeze chasing fluffy clouds across the sky.

Isabella, Fernando, Enrique, Sancha, Yolanda, and Nuncio would attend as Beatriz’s new family, each one protecting her happiness as she would theirs.

Isabella offered a mirror. “Want to see what you look like now?”

Yolanda bounced on her heels. “She must.”

Her complexion was radiant, hair tamed, the gown shimmering in the candlelight, fabric light as a cloud unlike the heavy material she wore for livery. “I look nearly as good as you, Isabella.”

“Far better, no?” She elbowed Yolanda.

She nodded vigorously. “An angel would envy you.”

Isabella sped to the door. “Beatriz, wait here.”

“For what?”

“Something I just thought of. Yolanda, come with me.” With their fingers laced, they left the chamber.

Beatriz wasn’t certain what to think or how to feel. Although she enjoyed looking like a lady again, the effort seemed such a waste when she and Isabella should have made plans to win against her father and Don Larnaz. Perhaps Isabella realized how hopeless the situation was and didn’t know what else to do except make the best of things.

The laughter Beatriz had shared earlier seemed a distant memory already. Doom clung to her, tightening her chest, moistening her palms. She paced like a caged animal, knowing she should leave the castle to give Tomás a chance at happiness with another woman.

Her legs went watery, not allowing her to flee. Dizzy, she leaned against the cabinet and breathed hard, trying to think of a solution.

She kept failing.

“Señorita Beatriz,” Yolanda called out.

Beatriz raised her face. “What?”

“Señora Doña Isabella has something she needs you to see.”

Hopefully not another trunk the servants had left in the hall with more gowns and other jewels. She didn’t want to try on anything else but couldn’t stomach being rude, given Isabella’s dear support. Beatriz pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to give herself color. Looking like a corpse wouldn’t solve anything.

Outside the chamber, she reminded herself to smile. What she produced felt more like a grimace.

Yolanda stood on the far side of the landing, gesturing for Beatriz to join her.

Isabella wasn’t around. Juana must have needed her again. Whatever Yolanda was doing on her own was a mystery, unless the girl wanted to show off the gown to the other servants.

Fearing Leonor’s foul attitude and knife, Beatriz touched the gown protectively.

The moment she reached the landing, Yolanda motioned for Beatriz to stop, then pointed to the stairs.

She looked down.

The world faded away, tension draining from her shoulders, warmth replacing worry.

Tomás stood at the bottom of the staircase, his arm on the railing, face lifted to hers. Candlelight turned his hair to gold. Respect, friendship, love sparkled in his eyes.

She ran down the steps. Tomás took them two at a time to reach her. They met in the middle and held each other, their embrace more powerful than any spoken vow. Whatever happened in the future, he would always have her love.

Tomás kissed her neck and cheek. “No words are sufficient to describe your beauty. The heat of the sun could never be greater, not even Spain will last as long, the finest rose pales in comparison. You are a marvel.”

Beatriz laughed softly. “Then you like Isabella’s gown?”

“On you, no one else.” He pressed his mouth to her ear. “Though I do prefer you naked. Say nothing to her, of course.”

“Of course.”

They descended the stairs, arms wrapped around each other’s waists. Fernando and Isabella stood to the side, smiling.

Beatriz stopped. “Wait.” She looked over. “Gracias, Yolanda. You helped me just as a personal maid should.”

She smiled widely.

“You can go to bed now. Take the chamber next to Don Tomás’s.” Beatriz had Señora Cisneros prepare the room.

Yolanda gaped. “Truly?”

“Truly.” Tomás shooed her away. “Go.”

“At once.” She bolted down the hall.

“What a delight she is.” Isabella beamed. “When you and Tomás visit us in the future, you must bring Yolanda along.”

Beatriz pressed against him, hoping they’d have a chance to share more days.

He embraced her gently. “What say we go to the parlor, have a sip of wine, and talk?”

* * * *

They discussed Beatriz’s father and Don Larnaz well into the night with each suggestion falling short of what Beatriz sensed would work.

Fernando and Isabella listened patiently to each objection, finally suggesting they should wait for Nuncio’s return before making any plans.

“He should be back tomorrow, that is, today, no?” Fernando asked.

Beatriz hoped.

She awoke early, more restless than tired, missing Tomás’s warmth. He’d left the chamber for his own bed hours before, shortly after they’d made love.

Dressed in her simple gown, Beatriz climbed to the highest parapet. The sun tipped over the horizon, its rays pouring across the land. A thin mist hovered over fields, groves, and vineyards in the valley. The crisp morning breeze bore the earth’s fragrance, its bounty.

The road below was deserted.

Spotting Nuncio and the guards at such an early hour was too much to hope for, but she still searched. The last of the sun had cleared the horizon before she gave up and retreated inside.

Yolanda was waiting in Beatriz’s chamber, perched on a box chair, hands folded in her lap. She jumped to her feet. “
Buenas días.
”

Returning the greeting, Beatriz glanced around the room. “You tidied up already?”

“Did you want me to turn down the bed again?” Yolanda raced to do so.

“No. Everything looks wonderful. But the other servants will see to my room.”

“Not with me around. After I help you dress, I can scrub the floor, take the wall hangings down to beat the dust from them, do the rugs next, then finish whatever else needs doing.”

“I would prefer you have your first lesson today, the basis of all reading and writing, the alphabet. You need to know the letters from memory and practice how to draw them. Much like you did the map you made for me. You already know one letter. X. Once I teach you to read and write, we can move on to mathematics and other subjects, even painting and learning to play the harp.”

Yolanda’s eyebrows kept inching up, her mouth going slack.

Beatriz cradled her cheek. “I want you to learn. No more scrubbing or dusting for you. Taking care of my silks and velvets is your work now. Have you forgotten you need to keep your hands soft?”

“You forgot last night when I helped you with the gowns.” She looked embarrassed. “The silks were so lovely, I forgot too.”

“Today we remember and start making your hands the way they should be. Give me a moment.”

Beatriz crossed the hall to Isabella and Fernando’s chamber. Uncertain how long they usually slept, she knocked lightly on the door. “Isabella?”

“Beatriz?”

“Sí. Have I awakened you?”

“Not at all.” She opened the door. Her hair was mussed, a sheet to her breasts, shoulders bare. “Has Nuncio returned?”

Beatriz made certain not to look past Isabella to the bed, not wanting to see Fernando sprawled over the mattress, possibly nude. “Not yet. Did you pack lotion? I told Yolanda I could make her hands soft.”

“Of course. Give me a moment.” She darted away and returned quickly with a squat jar. “What are your plans for today? Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No. I planned to teach Yolanda the alphabet.”

“May I join you for both?” She pushed her fiery hair back. “Tomás slipped a note under the door saying he wanted to spend the day with Fernando.”

“Doing what?”

“Hunting, fishing, riding, talking about war, the things men usually do. Fernando left minutes ago. He and Tomás are probably eating breakfast now. As soon as I dress, we can do the same.”

“Would you like Yolanda to help you with your gown?”

“Good idea. See both of you in a moment.”

Back in her room, Beatriz smeared the fragrant lotion on Yolanda’s hands, working in the thick cream. The same mixture of olive oil, beeswax, and rose water she’d used when living with her father. “Rub your hands together until the last of the cream is gone.”

“Feels strange.”

“Wait until you finish.”

Once Yolanda had, she ran her hand against her cheek and smiled. “As soft as a chick. Smells good too.”

“I can order several jars when I commission your new clothes.”

“New clothes?”

“A personal maid must look the part.”

“I have no complaints.”

Beatriz smiled. “Isabella asked for your expert assistance. As soon as you help her dress, we can breakfast in the dining hall.”

During the meal, the other servants frowned at Yolanda, the same as they had when she’d gone from scrubbing pots to making candles. The child tensed whenever they came near. Too many had pinched, shoved, or burned her in the past.

No longer, though. Not with Beatriz around.

Isabella tapped her chin. “Are your servants always this surly?”

“Only with me.” Yolanda lowered her face. “Every time I get new work or do something special, like eating in here, they get angry.”

Isabella clucked her tongue. “Never let what they think hurt you.”

Beatriz nodded. “Or keep you from improving your life.”

“Little chance of that. If they was in my place, each one would be grinning from ear to ear, happy for themselves, not caring a whit about me.”

Isabella winked at Beatriz.