Passionate Pursuit (25 page)

After their meal, they gathered in the parlor to begin Yolanda’s lesson.

Outside, Tomás and Fernando strode from the castle. With Tomás’s study free, she ushered Isabella and Yolanda in there.

“The perfect place to work.” Beatriz gestured. “We have books and writing materials.”

Yolanda bit her lip.

Beatriz patted her shoulder. “Nothing to worry about.”

“What if I fail?”

“We keep trying until you succeed.”

* * * *

Yolanda had taken Beatriz seriously, toiling for hours.

Head down, tongue sticking out, she repeatedly tried to draw the first three letters of the alphabet. She wouldn’t let Beatriz move to the others until she’d mastered these.

Discarded papers littered Tomás’s study, each filled with Yolanda’s failures. She’d gone from writing the letters as big as each paper to gradually reducing the size until she could get several letters on a sheet.

She puffed out a breath. “This is harder than carrying a dead pig.”

Isabella pressed her hand over her mouth to hold back a laugh. Although her shoulders and torso jiggled, Juana slept peacefully on her mamá’s chest.

Beatriz wagged her finger at Isabella only because Yolanda had her back to them. She patted the girl’s shoulder. “Practice makes writing and reading easier. Everything else too.”

“How long must I do this?”

“Several hours each day for years.”

“Years? This is like scrubbing pots and pans. They never end.”

“This will once you master the task. Then, you only have to read and write when you want to.”

Yolanda rested her head in her palm and resumed writing the letters.

“Beatriz,” Tomás called.

“In your study.” She hurried into the hall, nearly running into him and Fernando. Dirt stained their hose and boots. Their hands weren’t too clean, either. She made a face. “Were the two of you crawling around in mud?”

Fernando pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh.

Tomás elbowed him, but his snickers were getting the best of him too. Someone had imbibed too much wine.

She asked, “Has Nuncio returned?”

“No. Can we have a word?”

“Of course. Give me a moment.” She returned to the study. “Yolanda, please keep working until I get back.”

Tomás came up behind Beatriz and pressed his mouth to her ear. “What is she doing?”

“Learning the alphabet.” She’d spoken as quietly as he had. “Praise her.

“Yolanda. Show Don Tomás what you did.”

She lifted her papers. The letters were too large, lines wobbly. The way a feeble, old woman with an unsteady hand would write, rather than a healthy twelve-year-old.

Tomás applauded. “Well done.”

Yolanda grinned.

After he and Beatriz left, he leaned into her. “Will she get better?”

“We all do. Where are we going?”

“Our bedchamber.” With Beatriz in tow, he raced up the stairs and rushed down the hall.

Once inside, she leaned against the door, panting. “If you mean to have me, you may have to wait until I can catch my breath.”

“I have something for you.” He pulled a square of linen from his pouch, the cloth smeared with dirt and folded to hide whatever was inside. “Go on, take it.”

“Do you have something alive in there?” He did like to tease. “Will it bite?”

“Hard to tell. If it does, I can kill it.”

She shrank away.

He laughed. “I give you my word, this will never harm you.”

Beatriz finally took the cloth and unfolded the ends cautiously. “My orange peel?” Tears filled her eyes.

“Took me and Fernando most of the morning, on our hands and knees, to find the thing.”

Beatriz threw her arms around him. He staggered slightly, breath puffing out.

She cried. “You did this for me?”

“Who else?”

“Because you fear this is all I may have left of you?”

“No.” He pulled her arms from him and cupped her face. “You cried as though your heart had broken when you lost the rind. I wanted to get it back for you. As a memento of our first time, nothing more.”

Beatriz hugged him again. “I want the trouble with my father and Don Larnaz to be over. Where is Nuncio? Why hasn’t he returned? When will he be back?”

“Today, before twilight. We have to be patient and wait.”

Nuncio didn’t return. Not by twilight or the hours well beyond dark.

* * * *

Come morning, Beatriz could barely keep still, dread over Nuncio’s absence consuming her.

Tomás paced the parlor.

Isabella and Fernando kept out of his way, exchanging glances.

She wanted answers, an end to this. “Where is Nuncio? He should have been back by now or sent a missive telling us why he was delayed, unless he and the guards can do neither.”

Tomás stopped. “I refuse to believe your father killed all of them or even one. The man may be cruel, scheming, and—”

“May be? He is.”

“And a murderer too?”

Isabella took everyone in. “Perhaps we should send for the alguacil.”

“Not yet,” Fernando said. “One of the group may have had an accident that delayed all three. Tomás and I can ride out to look for them.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Beatriz couldn’t stomach that. “You may be riding into a trap. Send more guards.”

“I agree with Beatriz.” Isabella grabbed Fernando’s hand. “We have no idea what Señor Serrano or Don Larnaz is capable of. Look at what my uncle’s agents did to me. If Beatriz’s papá and the marquis planned something to draw Tomás out of the castle, the agents who attacked Nuncio and the others would search for Tomás, not more guards. The men can wear their own clothes, rather than their uniforms. That way, no one will be looking to waylay them.”

Tomás waved away the comment. “Fernando and I know how to take care of ourselves. Neither of us had an easy life like Enrique, studying rather than learning how to avoid death. We can survive a short ride without pulling the men from their duty, which is to protect the castle.”

“Perhaps I need to be clearer.” Isabella pressed Fernando’s hand to her cheek. “You nearly left me once. Remember those dark days? I could never survive moments like those again.”

Beatriz spoke to Tomás. “If I lost you, my spirit would die, leaving only my body, which my father would gladly deliver to Don Larnaz. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not.” His face was red, shoulders tensed. “But you seem to forget that Fernando and I are warriors, not fools.”

“I have an idea.” Isabella tapped Beatriz’s arm. “Since my husband and Tomás are such skilled soldiers, able to meet any challenge without fear of injury or worse, braver than the—”

“Prepare yourself,” Fernando said to Tomás. “Whenever my wife starts talking like you, I know trouble is at hand.”

Beatriz leaned toward Isabella. “Go on. I want to hear what you have to say.”

“Since neither of the men feel there will be any danger on this ride, you and I can accompany them.”

“No,” both brothers said at once.

Beatriz crossed the room to Tomás. “If you insist on your plan, I will leave here immediately and go to my papá without delay.”

“You will not put yourself in danger.”

“What danger? He may be able to murder everyone else in the world, but he has to keep me alive, no? What value would there be in a dead daughter? Even a brute as greedy as Don Larnaz would hesitate to accept a corpse.”

Isabella leaned back in her chair. “She has a point.”

“Fine,” Tomás said. “The guards can search for Nuncio and the others. This time. If they fail to return at dusk, I go.” He looked at his brother. “Stay with the women if you want.”

Fernando frowned. “When did I say I was afraid to join you?”

“My love.” Isabella smiled gently. “If you want to keep in my good graces, you had better take care with your safety.”

Fernando threw up his hands.

Tomás left the room grumbling.

Fernando followed, swearing beneath his breath.

“Well done.” Isabella hugged Beatriz. “You kept both from unnecessary risk. I will love you forever. At times, I think Fernando chases death deliberately.”

“What do you think happened to Nuncio and the other men?”

“I have no idea. All we can do is wait to find out.”

* * * *

When the sun was low in the sky, Beatriz held a solitary vigil on the parapet, searching for Nuncio and the men. “Please return. Let all be well.”

The road remained empty.

Panic swept through her. If Tomás made good on his promise to leave tonight and never came back, she’d find whoever harmed him and would kill the man without guilt or regret. Then, she’d destroy her father as he’d done to so many others. Hell didn’t frighten her. A lifetime without Tomás was the greater punishment.

Something moved in the distance. She craned her neck, blood thundering in her ears.

Riders carried torches, mere pinpoints in the darkness. As they neared, she leaned over the stone, trying to see more.

“Beatriz.” Tomás ran to her. “What are you doing?” He wound his arm around her waist and pulled her back. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

She pointed. “Riders approach.”

“I know. Fernando and I spotted them from the other parapet. Come.”

They raced to the castle entrance. Fernando and Isabella were already there. The second set of men arrived before the others, followed closely by Nuncio and the guards he’d left with.

Before Nuncio had a chance to dismount, Beatriz ran to him. “Where were you? Why did you take so long? You never thought to send a missive to let us know what happened. Why not? Did you think we knew or could guess what was going on?”

“Beatriz.” Tomás pulled her back. “Give Nuncio a chance to answer.”

“Go on.” She gestured to the man. “Good or bad, I want to hear what my father said.”

With his shoulders drawn in, Nuncio glanced at the crowd. “In front of the others?”

Tomás gestured to the guards. “Everyone leave.”

Nuncio dismounted.

Beatriz rushed him.

He took several steps back.

Didn’t matter. She needed to know what her father had done or said. “Talk.”

“I should have sent a missive, but I feared having only one guard to fight against robbers or other brutes on the journey back. Forgive me for being old and a coward.”

Beatriz wasn’t certain whether to rail or hug him. “What took so long?”

“Señor Serrano was unable to see me at first.”

“Why? Was he playing more of his games, pretending he had no idea who you were or why you had come? Ha. Don Larnaz surely had told him about his visit and Tomás agreeing to return my dowry. When he read Tomás’s missive, did he demand more money from him?”

“Señorita Beatriz, you may want to take care with what you say.”

She couldn’t believe this. Nuncio was worried about her conduct when her future was at stake. “Fernando and Isabella know about my father. You can speak freely in front of them.”

He sighed deeply, his expression pained rather than relieved. “Your father refused the money.”

He handed the satchel to Tomás.

Beatriz had feared as much. Still, her heart sank. “He demanded my return, no? And my marriage to Don Larnaz. Did you tell him I would never wed the man?”

“He said he understood your feelings for Don Tomás. He declined the money, saying you would have his estate soon enough.”

Beatriz shook her head, not understanding, and then she did. “He was playing you for a fool. He has something planned.”

“No. Your father is gravely ill.”

Beatriz stared, too shocked to speak. Guilt came next, barreling through her for thinking so poorly of her father, never wanting to see him again. Death would certainly accomplish her goal. Deep down, she’d never wished him dead. She’d wanted him to care for her safety and happiness.

Tomás took her arm. “We should go inside and allow Nuncio to rest, quench his thirst before we ask him anything.”

In the parlor, Nuncio finished his beaker of water before color returned to his sunken cheeks. He smoothed his hair and sat straight as an iron pole.

Beatriz edged closer. “Tell us everything from the moment you arrived.”

Tomás joined her. Isabella and Fernando also drew near. Nuncio’s face grew white again.

Tomás leaned into Beatriz. “We should ask about your papá’s illness first, no?”

No. Her initial shock and guilt had already passed. She couldn’t bring herself to trust any change in her father. “I need to handle this in my own way.”

“Of course.” He pulled a box chair over.

She sat on the edge as Nuncio did on the bench. Horrible memories of her mother’s suffering fueled her doubt. “Who greeted you at the door?”

“His housekeeper.”

Pascuala. The day Beatriz’s mother had died, her father, having already arranged for their sale, had ordered Pascuala to pack his wife’s clothes and jewels.

Beatriz had raced ahead to her mamá’s chamber and threw open the wardrobe doors. She’d pressed her face to her mother’s gowns and chemises, inhaling deeply of her scent, desperate to have whatever remained of her. Within the day, her mother’s possessions were gone. She might never have existed. She had certainly never mattered to him.

Pascuala’s loyalty had always been to Beatriz’s father. She’d longed suspected they’d been intimate even before her mamá had passed. “What did she say?”

“After I introduced myself and the guards”—he glanced at Tomás—“I had them come in with me as I had no idea what to expect. I know I should have told them to wait outside, but I was afraid.”

Beatriz patted Nuncio’s hand. “You did the right thing.”

Tomás nodded. “We understand.”

“Did the housekeeper seem surprised by your visit?” Beatriz asked.

“Not that I could tell. She behaved as all servants do, hiding whatever feelings she had.”

Beatriz suspected Pascuala and her father had discussed a possible visit after Don Larnaz had told them what happened here. “When you asked to see my father, what were her first words to you?”

“She said he was unable to speak to anyone at the time. If I wanted to wait, I was free to do so. However, hours could pass before he might be able to see me.”