Return to Paradise (Torres Family Saga) (9 page)

      
Rigo paused in his ablution and looked keenly at his brother. “And what says the lady to that? I find it difficult to believe she will meekly wed a man she has not chosen.”

      
Benjamin sighed, then ducked beneath the water, rinsed his hair and rose, sending water flying everywhere as he shook his head. “I do not know what she wills. I do not think Miriam knows what she wills. I...I did a foolish thing in giving her an ultimatum—go to Española with me else I sail without you.” He smiled sadly. “Perhaps, if you decide to return to Italy, I shall be sailing home alone.”

      
“Española must be paradise to you if you would forsake Miriam whom you love so well, and all the wealth and privilege of this,” Rigo said, trying to understand this enigma who was his brother. “Even your medical practice is here.”

      
“Yes, but there is so much more need for my skills—and Miriam's—on Española. The Tainos are being decimated by our simplest maladies. There are few surgeons or physicians in the new world, and none will treat Indians, or even the whites on Father's
hato.
Tis a small kingdom, Rigo. Our family and many of Guacanagari's people as well as other colonists banded together to live away from the strife, far in the interior.”

      
“I heard there were rebellions over the misrule of the Colon family,” Rigo said, echoing gossip from the Seville waterfront.

      
“The Colons did not misrule. They were hated by the Castilians for being Genoese. But the problems were great and the factions of Spaniards many—hidalgos from Castile, sailors from Catalonia, even a haughty Argonese courtier or two, each thinking to gain gold and return to Spain in glory.”

      
“Now they have moved on to Mexico and are growing rich with Hernán Cortez. I have considered doing that, seeking out the golden Aztec cities,” Rigo said as a new thought crossed his mind.

      
As if intuiting it, Benjamin said softly, “You could return to Española with me and meet your family. Then, if you could not make peace with Papa...well, taking ship for Havana and thence to the mainland would be easy enough.”

      
Rigo shrugged, pushing the matter to the back of his mind as he turned his attention to the brother he had grown to love. “Let that be for now. What will you do to win your doctoress? You are obviously smitten with her, although I cannot see why.”

      
Benjamin rose to the bait. “Miriam is lovely, just not conventional.”

      
“I agree. She dresses drab and plain as a nun. She told me wearing a farthingale would interfere with her work!”

      
“Ah, but she has silver gray eyes and bronze hair,” Benjamin rhapsodized.

      
“She is too tall.”

      
“Not for me. The Torres men are all well favored with height.”

      
“She is too outspoken and knows not the proper place of a female.”

      
“That I appreciate above all. Her mind, quick, keen and compassionate.”

      
“I would rather have passion than compassion in a woman,” Rigo said with asperity.

      
“For a casual bedding, perhaps, but in a wife, no. I know Christian marriage vows are often broken by men who keep mistresses. Tis not in favor with Jews, who must cleave to their wives alone. Much better to find one whose companionship you can enjoy after the bedding is done. Miriam and I share our work. We have common interests.”

      
Rigo rolled his eyes heavenward. “Then I think you should lay your earnest suit before this paragon lest she deign to wed her father's unworthy second choice.”

      
Benjamin climbed gracefully from the pool and seized a length of towel. As he rubbed himself dry he said, “You could not be more right. I know we are meant to share our lives. I promised Uncle Isaac I would settle it with her this afternoon.” He left the chamber whistling.

      
Rigo laid his head back against the cool tile once more, his thoughts returning to the week past, like a tongue worrying a sore tooth. The things he had said to draw out Benjamin's feelings about Miriam did not reflect his true opinion. He found himself attracted to his brother's beloved and was most distressed about the fact. He prayed Benjamin had not noted it.

      
The events by the courtyard fountain replayed themselves in his mind once more. He had been on one of his first excursions outdoors, sitting in the garden beneath a gnarled olive tree whose scanty branches allowed the warmth of noonday sun to soothe his aching wound. Dozing fitfully, he was awakened by a rustling sound, followed by a sharp intake of breath, as if someone was in pain. Sharp survival instincts caused him to come immediately awake and rise noiselessly behind the meager shelter of the tree to peer at the intruder.

      
A slow smile had spread across his face as he recognized the gleaming bronze mantle of Miriam's hair falling across her shoulders. She was kneeling in the middle of the flower beds between several large rose bushes, a basket of scarlet and pink blossoms by her side. Her finger was caught between those soft pink lips. The delicate tip of her tongue darted out to lap a droplet of blood. Rigo felt his body heat climb and knew it was not the sun that caused the sensation but the woman.

      
He leaned one shoulder casually against the tree trunk and said, ”A clumsy thing for a surgeon, pricking such nimble fingers on a rose thorn. Best take care lest you be unable to stitch another patient.”

      
Miriam whirled on her knees at the sound of that mocking voice, bumping the basket so the flowers spilled out. She looked up at the tall, slim man whose dark figure was silhouetted by the sun, feeling at a distinct disadvantage, dusty and disheveled before her nemesis. Removing her injured finger from her mouth, she said waspishly, “A rose prick will scarce impair my skills as a surgeon. You seem well recovered. What are you doing spying on me—and dressed in Benjamin's clothes?” The rich burgundy doublet with its azure-slashed sleeves fit his lean muscular frame as if made for him. So did the hose. She felt her face flame as she realized that her eyes had involuntarily paused at his codpiece for an instant—an instant he recognized.

      
Rigo chuckled at her discomfiture. So tart and aloof one moment, like the spinster she was becoming, then appealingly vulnerable the next. “My brother and I are of a size, tis all too obvious, is it not? Benjamin lent me his clothing since all I brought on campaign were rude soldiers garments and armor.” He appeared to consider for a moment, then added, “Mayhap the armor would have been a good precaution. You look ready to attack me with your rose knife, my lady.” She dropped the knife into the basket as Rigo strolled from the tree to where she sat and knelt beside her.

      
Careful to avoid the thorns, he quickly put her blooms back into the basket, then stood up, holding the prize as he offered his hand to her.

      
Miriam felt like a bumbling country wench. Angry at his arrogant figure looming above her, she took his hand and let him assist her in rising. The contact between his calloused fingers and her own soft palm robbed them both of breath. He felt her jerk free as if beestung. “Pricked again, lady doctor?” he baited as she seized the basket from him ungraciously.

      
“I have been pruning Ruth's roses since I first came to visit here as a child, long before I ever met Benjamin in Padua. I am accounted a good gardener even if I do offer a few drops of my blood to nourish the soil from time to time.”

      
“What will you do with these?” he asked as they walked slowly past the lacy embrace of a low-hanging willow.

      
“Arrange some for Ruth's table. Then take the others home to make soap and perfume. Tis Sabbath at sundown. We can do no such work after that,” she said.

      
“I have been abiding by the rules of the house. I understand about the Sabbath observances.”

      
“You are a Christian. How could you understand—or join—our rituals? Are we not heathens to you?” she asked with surprise in her clear gray eyes.

      
Just then they passed beneath the wide stone columns of the portico and he impulsively reached for her free hand, raising it to his lips for a brief salute. Rigo felt her tremble as he lowered her hand but held its softness prisoner a moment longer. His eyes burned into hers as he replied, “What passes between us has naught to do with theologies, my lady.”

      
She had then pulled free of him and fled indoors, leaving him to ponder why he was so attracted to her. The very perversity of it maddened him. She was the exact opposite of Louise or any other women he had always chosen for their lush curves and striking coloring. Her sharp tongue and university education were certainly no enticements either. What then did entice him?

      
He opened his eyes and gazed around the deserted bathing chamber. “She is my brother's beloved,” he grated beneath his breath as he climbed from the pool and dried himself perfunctorily. Even if she had been Christian, she was still a lady and a virgin, one who would always be forbidden to him. No noblewoman wanted a half-caste mercenary as a husband, least of all a devout Jewess! Then he saw Benjamin's earnest face and heard his enamored defense of Miriam again. Benjamin would wed her and there was an end to it!

      
“If I do not return to Pescara, there is always Cortez and Mexico,” he murmured as he left the chamber. The echo of his footfalls sounded as hollow to him as his words.

Chapter Five

      
Rigo stood near the top of the stairs with both hands on the wide marble railing that ringed the gallery, gazing at the scene below. Not since his one visit to King Carlos' court had he seen such a sumptuous display. Men in cut-velvet chamarres, their necks hung with massive jewel-encrusted chains and their fingers winking with rings, stood chatting while imbibing wines. Others danced a stately pavane with ladies dressed even more richly in glittering brocades and samites of rainbow hues. Their enormous farthingales caused their skirts to bell and billow as they danced. The curves of their breasts were barely concealed by low, square-cut necklines.

      
Isaac had spared nothing for this festival ball, held three days after Judah Toulon formally announced the betrothal of his only child and heir to Benjamin Torres.

      
Rigo had not attended the betrothal celebration, feeling an outsider at the smaller, strictly Jewish gathering in the Toulon home. But he could not easily escape this great fete. As one of the most wealthy merchants of the city, Isaac had invited Christians and Jews of the highest rank to join him in celebrating.

      
Soon Rigo would be well enough to take his leave, if only he could decide on a course of action. After Benjamin and Miriam were wed they were sailing to Española to meet Aaron and Magdalena and the rest of the family. Then they were returning to Provence. Rigo did not know how they had reached the agreement, but he knew Benjamin wanted to remain in Española. Should he accompany them and meet his father at long last? It would be easy enough to go on from there to Mexico. Yet the thought of spending weeks aboard ship with his brother and Miriam did not appeal.

      
Rigo scanned the room and his eyes met those of an older man, slight of build but richly clothed. His sour disposition in the midst of the gaiety marked him as the rejected suitor, Richard DuBay, whom the crafty old Judah had used as a catspaw to manipulate both Miriam and Benjamin. Rigo saw DuBay's hostile gaze follow the betrothed couple as they danced.

      
Against his will, he, too, watched them. They were a splendid-looking pair. Benjamin was tall and golden, resplendent in a dark blue velvet chamarre that perfectly matched his Torres eyes. The sleeves of the full, open gown were embroidered with silver and set with sapphires. Miriam was but half a head shorter than her tall partner and gracefully matched his steps in the dance. Her slim build was elegantly displayed in a gown of russet samite, shot with gold threads. The color complimented her fair complexion and brought forth the luster of polished bronze in her brown hair, which was elaborately looped and coiled with pearls and topazes cunningly woven through the coiffure.

      
Rigo watched as she gazed up at Benjamin. Was she happy? Was his brother? He took a drink from his wine cup and decided he certainly was not. Scanning the great hall below, he saw a servant carrying a pitcher of wine. Drink greatly appealed to him at the moment.

      
I do not belong here with these foreigners, rich men, Jews.
Rigo would not let himself dwell on any other reason for his malaise, but the vision of shimmering bronze hair and solemn gray eyes haunted him. As he consumed several more goblets of Isaac's excellent wine, his eyes kept seeking out Miriam in her finery as she moved gracefully about the crowded hall. At one point she and Benjamin left the revelry by a side entrance to the courtyard. Rigo did not want to speculate on what they did and said away from the prying eyes of the crowd.

      
He was not alone in noticing the pair slip out. Richard DuBay strolled with deceptive casualness toward another set of doors and around the corner of the portico to hide in the shadow of a large column where he could eavesdrop.

      
Miriam felt the cool night air hit her face and sighed with relief. “At last, a moment to breathe.” She looked up at Benjamin's face, which looked harsh and angular, set rigidly in the quiet of the moonlight. “The mask has dropped for a moment, has it not?” she asked softly.