Passionate Pursuit (9 page)

He tugged his hair, his growls sounding frantic, his roar pleased. His creamy seed spurted into her mouth. She didn’t recoil. Her feelings for him were too deep to reject anything he had to give.

With tender regard, she accepted his offering, swallowing every drop, licking him clean. Despite his ragged breaths, he looked drunk with joy.

“You can breathe easy.” She stroked his thigh. “I left you unharmed.”

Tomás laughed with little strength. “You honored me.”

As a friend. She had to be happy for that. “Did I give you great pleasure?”

“You were perfect.”

“Just perfect? No comparing me to the sun, wind, moon, and stars?”

“When I regain my strength.” He opened his arms. “Come to me.”

She nestled close, hand on his chest, face against his neck.

His heart drummed hard in time with hers.

Finished with his yawn, he nuzzled close. “We must do this again.”

For all time.

Although Tomás objected, Beatriz dismounted far short of the stable. He did the same, even though she insisted on walking alone to the castle.

“No one should see us together.” She folded her hands primly. “The same as earlier. Wherever you sent the stable hands, they must have returned to their work by now. Discretion is best.”

She was right but he had a hard time letting her go. “They may wonder why I have two horses, both of them saddled, no?”

“Let them think what everyone else will. One of the señoritas returned, stormed the castle, and you had no choice except to coax her out here for a ride so you could toss her over the hill.”

Laughing, he led Beatriz to a copse of cork trees.

She pointed in the other direction. “The castle is that way.”

“And will still be there when we finish.”

Once hidden within the trees, he tethered the horses and trailed kisses over her silky cheek and throat.

She sagged into him, wearing his scent as he did hers.

He inhaled deeply. “Tonight you come to my study to dust.”

She parted her lips to his, accepting his tongue. From the beginning, they’d fit so well. Now they molded to each other with even greater ease. He cupped her buttocks. She held him close and played with his hair.

When they finished their kiss, she rested her forehead on his shoulder, her hand over his hammering heart. “No.”

He stopped nibbling her ear. “You want me to kiss your neck instead? Very well, anything to please you.”

She eased back before he could enjoy any part of her. “I meant no to dusting tonight. If I leave the servant quarters to go to your study, the others may wonder why and talk. I should be enjoying my time away from work, not doing more.”

“You had a bad time today? What we did was mere work to you?”

She kissed him brazenly in answer. Breathless, he held on to her and she clung to him, both needing each other for support. On the hillside, she’d satisfied him to exhaustion, arousing him repeatedly until he could barely walk to their horses.

“What am I to do tonight with you so far away?” He eased a stray tress behind her ear and adjusted her cap to where the thing should be. “Do you want to see me buried in dust before you return to work?”

Her laughter filled the fragrant air. “No. However, you could use the time to speak to Señora Cisneros concerning Yolanda. You did promise.”

Indeed, he had. “Tomorrow evening you return to my study. No argument, hear?”

She returned his fiery kiss for only a moment before pulling free and racing up the path to the castle.

Tomás leaned against a rough trunk, giving her an opportunity to reach her destination before he followed.

The stable hands weren’t foolish enough to ask why he had a mare and a gelding without a second rider in sight. If they wondered, he didn’t care.

Once in the castle, he lifted his face to the ceiling, wishing he could see through wood and stone to her in the servant quarters. Too bad he couldn’t move her into his bedchamber. Even if she agreed to such a scheme, which she wouldn’t, the arrangement would have tongues wagging.

Pity everyone couldn’t mind their own business.

After a brief search, he found Señora Cisneros in the parlor, her back to him. She ran her fingers over the windowsill, inspected them, and nodded. At the next window, she did the same and made a displeased sound.

The smallest speck of dust had always disturbed her.

He cleared his throat. “I need a word.”

“Sí, Patrón.”

He gestured her to the far end of the room, so no one would overhear them, and warned himself to approach the subject delicately. “What would you say is the easiest household task? One even a grandmother could handle without causing any strain?”

She drew her bushy eyebrows together. “Is Beatriz now having difficulty with dusting and changing or washing linens?”

Heat crept up Tomás’s neck. He feigned indifference to her question. “This is about Yolanda, the young girl who works in the kitchen.”

“The best scullery maid I ever hired.” Señora Cisneros grinned broadly. “In no time, Yolanda will be gutting animals next to Leonor.”

Tomás tried not to stare at the hairs on the woman’s chin. “Given how young Yolanda is, it might be best if she has less tiring work until she grows older.”

“Has she complained to you?”

He had no idea what the girl looked like or that she’d even existed until Beatriz had mentioned her. “No. I, ah, saw her struggling with a bucket of water and thought she seemed too frail for kitchen work. There must be an easier task for her to do.”

“Would you like her to take Beatriz’s place?”

“Never. That is, no.”

Señora Cisneros tapped her hairy chin, her features pensive. At last, she lifted her forefinger. “I suppose she could help the chandler, unless you prefer Yolanda serves you at meals, washing your hands after you dine.”

He wasn’t certain if she was making light of him or not. Unlike many nobles who were helpless to the extreme, Tomás could wash himself, unless Beatriz wanted to do the job. “Candles it is for Yolanda, with the chandler. Make certain she begins the new work immediately.”

“At the same wage she earns now?”

He had no idea. “Certainly not less. Pay her whatever you would an apprentice.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “So much?”

“You decide what she should earn.” He patted her fleshy shoulder. “I have full faith in whatever you do.”

He left the parlor hoping Beatriz wouldn’t want to spare other servants their loathsome labor. He’d have to rearrange the entire household staff to keep her from toiling at their side. What a mess that would be…though in the end a minor matter if he made her happy.

He couldn’t imagine doing anything less. These last hours with her had given him a glimpse into what life should be like, not what protocol or the Church ordained. He wasn’t a devout man and had never cared for rigid custom, either. Not like those nobles who’d had everything handed to them, as Beatriz had said. They seemed the most devoted to keeping change at bay.

Perhaps because they had always been sheltered from horror, had no idea how the real world worked.

After Tomás had felled his first Moor, he hadn’t whooped with delight as the older nobles said he would, many having no experience in battle. The gore had appalled him, the blood never seeming to end. The young man’s family had surely waited for his return only to learn they’d lost him forever.

Killing did become easier, only because he wanted to survive, but he never looked at warfare the same. As a boy, he’d found the battles exciting. Upon becoming a man, he understood the enormity of loss.

His love for Spain, not the wealth he might earn, had kept him at the task. In many ways, Tomás agreed with what Beatriz had said about men coveting things more than they did people. A sorry way to live and a tradition he wanted no part of.

He retired to his study, finding the room too large and empty without her. In no time at all, he’d become completely besotted. Foolish that. When she had to move on to another friend, lover, husband, he wouldn’t be able to stop her.

She was young and unbelievably lovely. Other men wouldn’t wait to make their moves until Tomás had his fill, if he ever would. The male servants had already noticed her, especially Rufio. He, especially, seemed eager to make her his.

She’d shown no interest in the young man, but others would eventually come into service here. One might catch her eye and capture her heart.

Tomás muttered an oath, not wanting to consider his hopeless situation. Even though he ruled here and could do whatever he willed, even to take Beatriz as his bride, his actions would cost her dearly. He’d hold her up to ridicule to the servants she once worked with and the nobles who made up his world.

They’d never accept her no matter her beauty, intelligence, and wit. Although he hardly cared what they thought, she certainly would. He’d be a beast to subject her to their scorn at gatherings. Nor could she stay here while he attended those functions alone. He’d merely fuel gossip that his wife wasn’t good enough to associate with her betters. She might grow to hate him for the anguish he’d put her through when he should have known better and considered her feelings rather than his desire.

He should stop the impending sorrow now and refuse to see her again, depriving himself of her laughter, smile, touch, scent. All he had to do was live without those things.

Tomás sank to his chair, head in his hands, knowing he couldn’t. He needed a few more days with her, at least. A week perhaps. No, a month.

Possibly more.

He wasn’t a pious man, but soon found himself praying for time.

* * * *

The following morning, Beatriz was the only one who congratulated Yolanda on her new position. The other servants seemed confused, stunned, or were outwardly jealous, muttering that the girl wasn’t special, never had been, and hardly deserved such a lofty job that should have gone to them.

By late afternoon, the cruel barbs had taken their toll, Yolanda no longer her buoyant self.

Beatriz searched the child’s lovely face. “What happened?”

“I fear everyone hates me now.”

She slipped her arm around Yolanda’s narrow shoulders, chiding herself for having mucked things up. She’d only wanted to help, not bring her pain. “Surely the others will adjust.”

“I hope they do. Too many times today, I got shoved, tripped, pinched, and burned.”

“Burned? Who did that? Where?”

“My wrist is fine now.” She held her arm to her chest. “The hot grease stung for no more than a few minutes.”

Beatriz rubbed her forehead. “Would you like to work as a scullery maid again? Were you happier?”

“No. I earn more now than I had before and my tasks are easier than yours.”

Thanks to Tomás. She cupped Yolanda’s chin. “Then smile.”

Yolanda did, making her even lovelier, but quickly backed away. “I must be off. I have so much to learn. Tonight I keep watch on the tallow and wax.” She bolted away, skirt flying.

Beatriz returned to cleaning those bedchambers the señoritas and their mamás had used. The lot had manners worse than a common villager. They’d left food on the floor to rot, spilled wine on the fine linens, tracked in mud, and ruined two pillows, sending the feathers everywhere.

By the time she’d finished, the hour was late, her chance to dust Tomás’s study finally at hand. Excitement dashed through her, making her giddy with expectation. All day she’d waited for this moment.

She darted from the last chamber and nearly collided with Nuncio in the hall.

He reared back. So did she.

“Forgive me.” Beatriz pressed her hand to her chest. “I had no idea you were lurking about in the dark without a candle to guide you.”

Nuncio curled his upper lip. “I was walking, as is my right.”

She gave him a sweet smile. “Of course. The fault, as always, is mine. Can you possibly forgive me?”

He lifted his chin. “What spirit you seemed to have gained since we last spoke. Remember these moments well. They will not last. They never do, no matter what Don Tomás may have said.” He strode past.

“Wait.” He practically ran. Beatriz grabbed a candle from the cabinet and caught up. “What do you mean they never do?”

Nuncio had led her to believe that Tomás hadn’t behaved with anyone here as he had with her. Before that, he’d been away fighting the Moors, his actions at the fortaleza not Nuncio’s concern, including any girls Tomás had taken there in between his battles.

Her stomach sank. Tomás had said he’d enjoyed life, which surely meant women, during those times he hadn’t fought for the Crown. Perhaps Nuncio had referred to that. Perhaps not.

He gave her a cold smile and disappeared into the darkness.

As eager as she’d been to see Tomás, she was now as reluctant. Picturing him with another woman gave her pause, when it shouldn’t have.

Men had lovers and mistresses even after they wed. Still, she’d hoped to be the first servant Tomás had desired here or anywhere else. Not much to ask for when her future with him was stillborn.

Heartsick, she finally slogged down the stairs, her candle providing scant illumination. The castle was dark, cool, and quiet, the other servants in their quarters or at their tasks in a far part of the structure.

She reached the hall prior to Tomás’s study. A figure skulked in the shadows. She stopped short, her breath catching. Nuncio? She lifted her candle.

Rufio. He stalked toward her, smiling suggestively.

Her skin crawled. She wanted to flee but sensed he might consider her escape a game and run her down. If she bolted to the study, he would surely follow and might start rumors about her and Tomás.

Acting on impulse, she hurried to him before he could reach her. “How fortunate to see you here.” She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him farther away from the study. “We must speak.”

Surprise crossed his face. “We can go to the kitchen. No one is there.”

She released him. “Here is fine. As you know, I fear Nuncio.”

Rufio rocked on his heels, his chest puffed out. “I can handle him.”

“And lose your position if he catches you with me at this hour? I beg you, protect yourself and Yolanda.”