The Flesh and the Devil (7 page)

         
'You are very good to me, Michaela,' she said at last.
'Thank you.'

         
The brush hesitated in its path, then resumed. 'It is
nothing, senorita. So many roses —‘ Michaela sniffed appreciatively. 'The scent
is everywhere — the Duque must be a generous man to send so many, must he not?'

         
'I had rather have his welcome — or, better still, his
leave to depart. There is no hurry, Michaela — we are not to attend supper
tonight. The senor' s wife says that she will have food sent to us here.' Juana
opened her eyes to see Michaela's face reflected in the glass, and its sudden
pout of disappointment.

         
'What, did you want to go down? I thought you would be as
weary as I am.'

         
The Moorish girl grimaced. 'I like a little life, senorita,
and this place promises more than Zuccaro or I would not pave been so forward
to come here. But I daresay you are right; we shall be more admired if they see
us first when we are rested.'

         
'Do you mean to break hearts, then?' Juana's question was
light, but there was an uncontrollable edge to her voice.

         
Michaela's eyes met hers in the glass, and the Moorish girl
smiled. 'If I can. Why not? And in a place the size of this, it should not be
hard for you to find someone you fancy. I never guessed that it could be like
this, even when — ' She broke off, then added, ‗Your husband must be a
very important man.'

         
'He is not my husband yet, do not call him so! If he were
so important he would be by the King's side in Madrid. Is he in exile that he
lives here all the year?'

         
'I am not sure, senorita — ' Michaela looked excited and a
little furtive — '

         
but I do not think it is for the reason Senor de Castaneda
told your father. Down in the courtyard heard someone say — '

         
She stopped as a light, decisive rap came at the door.
Juana stiffened, and both girls stared at each other in puzzlement.

         
'It is not the Tia,' Michaela said positively. 'She would
not knock.'

         
'Perhaps His Grace the Duque honours us with a visit. Who
knows? His longing may have overcome his sickness.' Juana's white - knuckled
grip on the arm of her chair betrayed the flippancy of her voice. 'Go and see
who is there, Michaela.
Hurry!
'

         
The rap came again, and Michaela obeyed with alacrity. As
the Moorish girl opened the door a crack Juana heard her gasp, and then her
husky voice mingled with a man's lower tone, smooth and mellifluous with a
crisp clarity like the ring of metal. In a moment Michaela was back, leaving
the door ajar, an odd mixture of excitement and indecision on her face.

         
'It is a messenger from the Duque de Valenzuela, senorita,
and he says that he has been charged with a message of great urgency to be
delivered to your ears alone. What shall I say?'

         
Juana hesitated, her pulses beginning to race. Could de
Castaneda have told his nephew of her reluctance to be married? Could it be
that Bartolomé de Benaventes sought to reassure her, to spare her a sleepless
night, that he shared her feelings about this patched - up wedding?

         
One way or another, she had to know. Her mouth was suddenly
dry with apprehension and she moistened her lips, glancing impatiently at her
reflection in the long glass. Tia Beatrix, she thought, would be horrified if
she knew — but, with luck, she would not know that she had spoken alone with a
man. As for her clothes, the faintly rose-coloured robe was fastened high to
the throat, longsleeved and flowing, in many respects more modest than the gown
she had discarded. She did not know that the soft material clung to her, outlining
the proud curves of her slender body, nor that the glowing colour was reflected
on her pale cheeks and threw her dark beauty into vivid relief. There was no
time to be scrupulous now, she told herself and thrust back her hair with
unsteady fingers.

         
'Say I shall see him, and bring him in.'

         
Michaela's black brows lifted. 'Senorita, he said
alone.'

         
'Leave us alone, then! The world thinks I am to become a
Duquesa shortly

         
— even if it becomes known, no one will dare to censure me
when I stand so high. And if I do not,' she added recklessly, 'I shall not care
what they think of me.'

         
'As you will then, senorita.'

         
Michaela turned back to the door, set it wide and then
slipped out past the man who entered with a murmured exchange of words.

         
As she glimpsed the black shape in the glass Juana rose to
her feet, turning to face the door in a quick, restless movement. Her voice
sounded rough when she spoke, as though the single word hurt her throat. 'You!'

         
Felipe Tristán's strange eyes flickered over her from head
to foot. 'Your servant, madam.'

         
'What are you doing here? Why did you — '

         
'I am a messenger, madam, sent from the Duque. I told your
maid as much.'

         
He had not moved from the doorway; the top of his head
almost grazed the high lintel, and the candle - gleam caught his burnished hair
and made it flame against the darkness behind him. His voice was a
dispassionate contrast to hers, level and uninflected, and she found herself
thinking inconsequently that if she had not heard him without seeing him for
those few moments, she would never have noticed its beauty. The crisp edge was
the sole hint of a foreign accent, lending an arrogant abruptness to the fluid
syllables of his otherwise flawless Castilian. But then her eyes were drawn
back to the jagged scar that marked his cheek, and repulsion flared in them.

         
'Was there no other who could have come?'

         
'I am privileged, it seems.' His aloof expression did not
alter. 'Will it please you to give the message a hearing?'

         
'Hurry with it, then, and go.'

         
She was suddenly conscious of her own folly in allowing
this privacy. He still stood in the open doorway, studying her with an
insultingly passionless appraisal, but something about the utter stillness of
his big body made her afraid of him. Never in the whole of her life had she
been entirely alone with a man who was not her blood kin; even when she had
managed to snatch a few whispered words with Jaime, there had always been
someone else within earshot. Now, as he sketched a slight, sardonic bow and
swung the door shut, she felt his overwhelming presence in the room like a
threat.

         
He said, with a lack of expression that made the words
almost offensive,

         
'His Grace is greatly distressed that he cannot deliver his
greeting by word of mouth, but I am bidden to tell you that he is made the
happiest of men by your presence here. He longs for the time when he may speak
with you and tell you how much he desires — ' the heavy lids flickered slightly
— ' to make you his wife; and in the meantime he commends himself to your
gentle thoughts.'

         
Juana's teeth were chattering, and she gritted them
together. 'I think upon him hourly. Is that all? If so, you may be gone where
you are welcome.'

         
'No, there is more, but I must have your permission to
deliver the rest.'

         
'Take it, if you will be gone the sooner for it!'

         
She turned away sharply as she spoke, then gave a cry as
her wrist was taken in long, cool fingers that bit into her flesh like steel as
she tried to break their hold. He had crossed the room so quietly and rapidly
that she had not known he moved; then her hand was raised inexorably and a cold
circle was slipped on to her third finger.

         
'A pledge for you to wear until you receive the Benaventes
betrothal ring.'

         
Tristán's voice was cool and unflurried, and seemed to have
no connection with the ruthless grip on her hand. 'Look at it.'

         
Slowly and reluctantly Juana obeyed, looking down as he
forced her hand close to the candle - flame so that the ring glittered
balefully. It was a man's signet, heavy and old and engraved with a crest — not
the griffin, but a lion chained. She did not lift her eyes from it as she
answered but her voice shook.