Wicked Whispers (13 page)

“Oh no. What an awful thing to do to a child.”

He shrugged. “I learned not to drown. Do you fear coming upon a body of water when you visit the peasants?”

“No. I thought swimming might be fun. Is it?”

“Indeed. Come, let me show you.” With her fingers entwined in his, he led her to the pond.

She held back suddenly, recalling what he’d said earlier. “If you plan to throw me in and expect me to survive, you may be surprised that I drown.”

“I am not my father.” He pulled her forward. “Take care, though, the water might be colder than you like.”

She welcomed anything to cool her fevered skin and desire. All Enrique had to do was hold her hand and she forgot her resolve.

The sweep of water against her calves and thighs was lovely. If she’d been a man and lived here the rest of her days, she’d come to this spot each night to dig her toes in the mud and sink into the water’s refreshing embrace. “What now?”

He cupped her face and kissed her.

Sancha slumped against him, powerless against his needs, with hers as pressing. Once he’d finished and eased his mouth from hers, she didn’t move away. “Was that my first lesson?”

He laughed. “No. My passion. Take a deep breath.” He demonstrated how. “Hold it then lie back in the water. Face up.”

Of course. Face down would be foolish. Still, she wrinkled her nose. “And go under?”

“Not with my hands beneath you until you feel confident. The air you took in helps to keep you from sinking, allowing you to float.”

She recalled when she and Isabella had spied on their cousins. If memory served her, the boys had floated on their backs.

“Allow no fear,” Enrique said. “Anyone who becomes alarmed and thrashes about sinks like a stone.”

“If I do, will you save me?”

He gave her a tender smile. “Always. Now do what I say.”

She lifted one eyebrow.

“Whenever you feel you can.”

She liked when he afforded her the same consideration he would a man. Preparing herself mentally, she pulled in as much air as she could, held it, scrunched her face, and fisted her fingers.

He pointed. “You still need to go into the water.”

She fell back into the pond, sank faster than a stone, and flailed her arms, trying to right herself.

He pulled her to her feet. “I said lie back in the water, not fall.”

She coughed and gasped. “I did precisely as you instructed.”

“Very well, but do so more slowly this time.”

She clawed wet hair from her face. After taking another deep breath, she inched toward the water, bending back as far as possible without falling in.

His shoulders trembled with quiet laughter. “A trifle faster, if you please.”

Tensed, Sancha did as well as she could.

As promised, he kept one hand beneath her buttocks, the other under her back. To her amazement, she didn’t sink, though her lungs ached.

“Sancha.”

She nodded.

“You can let out your breath and take another.”

She did, grinning as she stayed on the surface, floating effortlessly. “What happens when you remove your hands?”

“I fear telling you.”

His laughter said otherwise. “Release me. I want to find out.”

“Very well.” He pulled back his hands.

She folded at the waist, her buttocks dragging her to the bottom. She flailed again.

“Be still.” He slid his hands to where they had been and lifted her. “What did I say about thrashing?”

“To accept my fate and drown with dignity?”

He laughed loudly. “We shall keep at this until you perform to my standards.”

Such dedication could take the remainder of the night. A heady and delightful prospect.

He instructed her calmly while she did nothing but panic. At last, she grew so weary and annoyed she didn’t care what occurred. Her new outlook resulted in success. She floated on her own, gliding her arms and legs through the water while staring at the starry sky. “This is marvelous. You must teach me to swim.”

“During your next lesson.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow evening. Surely you must want to rest now.”

She’d never experienced such energy or power, having conquered her fear and succeeded at a skill he had. Once he taught her to swim, they could challenge each other. He’d win, of course, being larger and stronger, but she’d show him she was as good as any man.

Hopefully, he would then believe in her ability to run her own life, removing an obstacle to their relationship. Possibly giving them a chance for a future together.

“Are you famished?” she asked. “I am.”

Out of the water, she ran toward the blanket. He passed her easily and settled first, handing over the bread, cheese, and meat. She offered him half of everything and gobbled her share greedily. They ate, drank, and smiled until the food and wine made them sluggish.

She stifled a yawn. “I wish we could stay out here forever.”

Finishing the last of the olives, he took in her breasts and the reddish curls between her legs. “Dawn may make you change your mind.”

His servants certainly would. She smiled. “Tomorrow evening it is. Give me your oath not to forget.”

“To keep you from drowning?”

Laughing, she threw the last of her bread at him. The piece bounced off his chest and fell to the blanket.

He scowled playfully. “How dare you treat a noble lord in such a manner.”

“I shall behave whatever way I feel.”

“Is that so?”

“It most certainly—Enrique! Stop.”

He straddled her and tickled until she gagged, unable to laugh or breathe. At last, she lay limp beneath him.

He grinned broadly. “Remember this lesson well.”

How could she forget? This night was the most captivating she’d ever spent. Surely, the coming ones couldn’t be better.

They kissed until they needed a full breath, then enjoyed each other again. He suckled her breasts once more and buried his face between her legs. She licked his sac and shaft, bringing him to completion a second time, wanting him as happy as she was.

After he peaked, he refused to rest. “Time for bed. Both of us need sleep, especially you.” Once he’d tended to her laces and buttons, he pulled on his garments, gathered the basket, and threw the blanket over his shoulder.

Hand in hand, they strolled back to the castle, their hair slightly damp from the pond, clothes wrinkled, neither of them caring how they looked. Her sighs and his were content, movements unhurried.

Upon reaching the rear entrance, he took the long way to her chamber, a delay to their eventual parting. They entered an unused area, seemingly reserved for storage.

Scuffling noises broke out.

Enrique looked over. So did she.

Two of his guards supported a third man between them, his clothes filthy and quite odd, nothing like what an ordinary Spaniard wore, not even peasants. Rather than hose, the garment covering his legs was as voluminous as a woman’s skirt or a robe, his shirt the same, belted with a sash. He sported a beard, his complexion swarthy, expression dazed. Blood stained his arm and torso.

Sancha pressed her hand to her throat.

“What goes on?” Enrique strode to the group.

The taller of his guards, a burly man who appeared no more than twenty, spoke first. “Forgive the intrusion,
patrón
. The men you sent to the other side of the estate found this savage hiding in your fields. He must have been with the Moors tonight and became separated from them. They raided the village to the west, taking what they willed, wounding some of the people.”

“Wait here for my return,” Enrique said to his men. With his hand on Sancha’s arm, he led her past them.

She resisted and pressed her mouth to his ear. “We must go to the village.”

“What—why?”

“You heard what your guard said. The people there are injured. I can treat them. After I tend to your prisoner, we can leave.”

“No.” He tightened his grip. “The only place you go tonight is your room.”

“By force?”

He held back a sigh and loosened his hold.

She immediately pulled her arm free and rubbed the spot where he’d held her. “I am not going to my room.”

He warned himself not to say something he’d regret and spoke to his guards instead. “Take him away.”

The man couldn’t match their quick pace. They dragged him.

Alone with Sancha, Enrique turned to her. “How dare you question my authority in front of my men.”

“Forgive me, but you gave me no choice. The people need my skills and I intend to go to them.”

“You will not.” He kept his voice as low as she had. “I would never allow you to put yourself in danger to save anyone, not even me.”

She frowned. “How can you say such a thing? When you invited me to stay here, you said I could heal and you would serve as my protector. When the time comes to do so, you want to keep me here. Did you lie to me before?”

“No. I said within reason. I never promised to accompany you to a village the Moors just attacked where there are more hazards than I care to consider.”

“How could the danger persist? Your guard said the Moors took what they willed in the raid. The man they captured was hiding in the fields. That land is to the east, the same as Granada, where he and the others were surely heading before losing each other. I suspect his friends are back on their land and in their homes, not giving any of us a thought.”

He made a face at her damnable logic. Of course, the Moors were gone, not that their absence changed anything. “I am not taking you to the village.”

“Very well. Your guards can.”

“Never.”

“Then I shall go alone.”

He blocked her before she could get around him. “How do you intend to get there without a horse? Walk?”

“If I have no other choice. The people need me.”

What of him? Did his love for her and his worry over her safety mean nothing? Even if she cared naught about his devotion, he was master of this estate. He, not she, made the decisions concerning the land and people under his authority. He crossed his arms over his chest.

She didn’t back down. “You cannot stand in my way on this.”

He could. Being stronger, he’d succeed and lose her heart, as Isabella had warned. He wanted to shout his frustration and pain. Already, he’d tightened his shoulders to the point they ached. Why did she have to be so headstrong? Simple compliance to good sense was what he wanted and wouldn’t get.

With her willfulness, they could be at odds for days. Never had he been as weary, not wanting to fight, only to love. Perhaps even compromise. “I can send my men to the village. They can collect the injured and bring them here for you to treat.”

“How? Slung over a horse if the man or woman has fainted? What if they bleed heavily? They could die before I could do anything to help. The only solution is for me to go to them and save as many as I can.”

“And risk injury or worse in another attack.”

“You know the danger is past, otherwise you would never have offered to put your men in harm’s way.”

“Their duty is to face danger.”

“The same as your brothers Tomás and Pedro, both soldiers. When they accompanied Isabella and Fernando to my castle, she said they boasted of past deeds, including how they bested the Moors during raids such as the one tonight. As I recall her tale, your brothers and the other men rode to the scenes as quickly as they could, defending the peasants, then fanned out to make certain other communities in the area faced no threat. I would think Tomás and Pedro would be particularly brave in protecting land under your authority and the route leading to your castle.”

He dug his nails into his arms. “My brothers and their men have a surgeon available. They can use him to treat anyone who needs care.”

“With the surgeon putting the wounded at further risk should he lack good skills. How many soldiers have died of injuries similar to Fernando’s because the man charged with their care lacked the knowledge I have in my books?”

Too many, though their deaths weren’t his concern. She was.

“I know you worry about me.” She touched his arm. “I feel the same about you.”

He searched her face and saw sincerity despite her stubbornness. Lost as to how he could make her listen to reason, he uncrossed his arms and covered her hand. “I have yet to do anything to cause you pain.”

“You would if you felt you had no choice in doing what was right. I have no desire to hurt you in any way. I simply want to heal those in need, and I do promise to take care.”

Until she risked even more to provide the outcome she wanted. At times like this, Sancha was as bad as a man. Worse. He cursed nature for not having made her cautious and compliant like other women. Knowing her, she’d walk to the village alone, potions and instruments in hand.

Weary, he held back a sigh. “Before we leave, you need to change.”

“Gladly.” She hugged him harder than she had after they’d enjoyed each other by the pond.

What a fool he’d been to have fallen in love with her, though he couldn’t change the matter now. She was his life.

“What should I change into? One of your guard’s clothing?”

He rolled his eyes. “One of the servant’s.”

“Male?”

He eased back to see if she were jesting. Her expression remained sober. “Do you prefer to wear men’s garments?” Would that be another trial she’d put him through?

“No. I thought my dressing as a man would make the journey safer in your mind.”

His, not hers. “Having you stay in your room would accomplish the goal.”

She stepped back. “Will you bring me the clothing or should I find the garments on my own? Or, I could wear what I already have on.”

“And call attention to your station and wealth? I think not. Go to your room. I can see to the items you need.”

She didn’t move. “What of the Moor? I should tend to his injuries.”

Enrique clenched his jaw. “No. I don’t want you touching any part of the filthy beast.”

“You say that now, but when he heals and lives, your men could question him on the Moors’ plans. Should he die, a great opportunity could be lost.”