Wicked Whispers (14 page)

“Come with me.” He took her arm.

“Wait—where do we go?”

“The Moor. Make fast work of tending him. Every minute at his side is less help for our people.”

“I need my materials first.”

“Gather them as I gain the clothes you need. Meet me here.”

“I shall.” After she’d given him another quick hug, she bolted down the hall, her footfalls fading quickly.

He dragged to the servants’ quarters, pondering his future with her, questioning whether he could withstand many more moments like this, or if he could ever become accustomed to them. Images filled his mind of her heavy with his son, mounting a horse, galloping away, hair and the ends of her gown flying as she raced to village after village, intent on taking care of its inhabitants.

He pictured her turning the castle into a hospital with the ill everywhere, her darting from bed to bed, seeing to her charges and neglecting him.

He frowned at the awful scene and sought out Hortensia, an older woman in charge of the female staff. She’d been with his family for years, having known him as a willful little boy.

He found her near the castle entrance. “Señora.”

“Patrón.” Despite him holding her hands and smiling, she still bowed her head in deference to his station. Afterward, she winked. “What do you need?”

Sancha to love and obey him, what else? “Clothing for the señorita to blend in with other woman in the village.” He wasn’t about to explain further.

Hortensia nodded. “As you wish. I shall return in a moment.”

“Tell the girl whose clothes you take I shall replace them and give her a reward for assisting me.”

She smiled and hurried away.

He had the homespun garments within minutes, a long gown of dull red with a sleeveless tunic in brown. The girl had no shoes of her own, other than what he provided for her to work in. What Sancha usually wore would have to do.

He returned to where they’d spoken. She wasn’t there. Turning a fast circle, he scanned the area, not seeing her. He was ready to go to where she studied when he had another idea.

Within the storage area were a few empty rooms, the ideal place for his guards to take the Moor.

The puto lay on the stone floor of an empty chamber without a window. Light came from two torches propped in holders on the walls. The Moor’s chest was bare, his eyes closed. Sancha leaned over him, studying the slashes on his arm and torso. Enrique’s guards stood to the side.

He stomped into the room. “I told you to wait for me.”

She turned to him, a swatch of linen in one hand, a container of vinegar in the other. “He moaned so loudly, I feared he might die if I failed to tend him. Alive, he will be of great use to you. Dead, he is not.”

Enrique motioned to his guards. “Out.”

They closed the door behind them.

“Never challenge me in front of my men.”

Her cheeks reddened. “I was merely giving you my reason for not waiting.”

“Do not disobey me again either.”

She regarded him. Quietly and coldly.

He didn’t stand down.

She sighed. “I know you mean well. However, I am not your child to order about. You can offer a request, and I will consider the matter, then make my own decision how to proceed. The same as you would expect from me if I ever asked you to do anything.”

Ever? “You have asked for so much I lost count of your endless requests. What I demand of you is not done to prove my authority but to keep you safe.”

“I faced no danger in this room. Your men were close by protecting me.”

He tightened his jaw.

She softened her stance. “I should have waited. Forgive me?”

He wasn’t ready to but finally shrugged, then nodded.

She smiled. “Thank you for agreeing to take me to the village and allowing me to treat this man.”

He stepped closer. “Did he swoon?”

“Not from his injuries. An earlier blow to his head.” She eased his dark hair aside. Above his forehead was a knot the size of a goose egg, blood matted around the injury.

“Will he survive? His wounds seem less ghastly than Maria’s.”

“They are. I cleaned them as much as I could to avoid infection. Give me a moment to cover each with clean linen, then we can leave.”

As disturbing as Enrique found the scene, he preferred her healing a Moor in the safety of his castle rather than riding to the village. Not that he feared a new attack. What she’d said was true. Soldiers raced to the scene of trouble, fighting, then guarding the besieged village along with others in the vicinity. Tomás and Pedro were surely out tonight. Seeing his brothers again would be a pleasure. Exposing her healing skills to even more peasants was not. Any one of them might gossip without meaning to, bringing her to the authorities’ attention.

He’d known as much when he’d encouraged her to stay at his estate. He simply hadn’t believed he’d face the problem this quickly, hoping everyone in the villages would remain healthy, along with her becoming so besotted with him, her healing would fall into the background.

If anything, she seemed more obsessed with her work each day.

She kept glancing at him, but finished with the Moor faster than Enrique had expected. “I can change in the empty room next to this one.” After taking the servant’s garments from him, she brushed her lips over his. “Then we can leave.”

* * * *

Given the hour, she should have been tired. Concern over the wounded, anticipation of what she’d face at the village, and Enrique’s dark mood kept her from rest as they travelled past a seemingly endless expanse of fields and pastures.

Dressed in the servant’s clothing, she rode in front of him as she had the night at Fernando’s castle. Enrique would hear of nothing else, even though she was capable of riding a horse. One of the few physical activities her papá had allowed his daughters to learn.

She recalled the wonderful swimming lesson she and Enrique had shared, a bright and promising moment between them. Gone now. Wanting to ease the tension, she turned to speak softly so the guards wouldn’t overhear. His men were at a distance but still surrounded them, affording her further protection. “I look forward to our next night at the pond.”

Enrique made a sound acknowledging her comment. A response greater than a grunt seemed beyond his capabilities.

She’d angered him at the castle, wounded him too with her behavior in front of his men. She would have done anything to avoid such confrontations if she’d known what the solution might be, other than submitting fully like a dutiful child. Deep inside, she sensed he didn’t want her to behave as though she hadn’t a mind or spirit. He enjoyed her fire.

To a point.

Missing his converse, she surrendered first. “Are you never going to speak to me again?”

He shifted slightly. His shaft pressed against her buttocks, growing thick and hard as it had when he’d first mounted. “Did you speak?”

His tone was far cooler than his other reaction to her. “Only of our pond. And my swimming.”

“You floated. Barely.”

She released her weight into him, stirred by his deep voice, teasing, and the way his arm tightened to hold her closer. “I shall prove myself in the coming days.”

He grunted.

She sighed. They were back to him making noises rather than talking to her. “Are you tired of teaching me? Am I such a poor student? I request your answer please, not grunts, groans, or moans, no matter how much you intend to wound me with what you say.”

“Wound you?” He pressed his mouth to her ear. “Every journey you make to these villages, every man, woman, or child you treat exposes your healing further.”

So, they were back to that. She had hoped they’d moved beyond it. “These people are as loyal to you as your servants and guards are, no?” She spoke as quietly as he had. “You behave honorably with the peasants too, seeing to their welfare?”

“Of course. However, they are not at my castle where I can make certain they keep their tongues, saying nothing untoward. Who knows what the peasants might discuss after we leave? Gossiping about events is natural, even if they intend no harm.”

He was right, of course. What had seemed a chance for her to help and learn appeared foolish now. She should have considered his feelings, chiding herself for not doing so. “Allow me to ride with the guards so you can return to the castle. That way, none of the peasants will see you with me. You can escape harm.”

“What? No.” He held her closer. “My concern is for your safety, not mine.”

“If I come under suspicion, you will too, as I told you the day you offered your protection. The only answer is for no one to see us together outside your castle. In fact, I never should have agreed to stay there. Doing so was as thoughtless as keeping my books at Fernando’s.”

Enrique huffed. “Where do you intend to go? No place in Spain is safe from the Inquisition. The wisest course is to do nothing to bring attention to yourself.”

She didn’t comment.

“I will not let you go to any village without me. Even if you return to your castle, Fernando’s, or someone else’s, you have my protection whether you want it or not. And I do mean to see to your well-being if I have to threaten the peasants to keep their tongues concerning your work. If they fail to do so, I promise them a fate worse than any Moor could bring.”

She looked over. “I never meant to bring you such anguish.”

“Something to keep in mind when you treat your patients. Make certain they know to keep silent on the matter. I will see to everyone else. We approach.”

A band of men on horseback blocked the road. Torches illuminated the helmeted soldiers in their distinctive red hose, boots, and upper-body armor. All carried crossbows, short swords, and long pikes. One man even had an arquebus.

The one in the lead held up his hand to the others, gesturing them to stay where they were. He, alone, rode to meet them, sword drawn, his attention on the guards, her, and finally Enrique.

Even in the faint light, Sancha recognized the man’s handsome features.

“Brother, how good to see you.” Tomás grinned. “How surprising too, considering…” He directed his horse closer, taking her in, before he smiled warmly. “Sancha.”

Enrique sniffed. “Señorita Doña Sancha to you.” He drew her closer, quite obviously and possessively.

Tomás gave her one of his winning grins. “Fair maiden, enchanting goddess, exquisite temptress, wondrous—”

“Tomás, as you know, loves to talk.” Enrique stroked her hip. “You must ignore him.”

Scowling, Tomás removed his helmet, revealing his surprisingly blond hair, thick and wavy.

She smiled at what a beautiful man he was.

With the helmet under his arm, he lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips. “How have you been since we spoke at the convent?”

“Well. Fernando is too. And Isabella. She mentions you and Pedro often.”

Tomás rested one arm on his saddle’s horn and leaned toward her, his expression playful. “In the most favorable way, I trust.”

Sancha laughed softly. Isabella had said he could charm even the dourest woman. How right she was. “She has only the best to say on the de Zayas brothers.”

Tomás arched one eyebrow, which was surprisingly dark, the same as his stubble, given his light hair. “Surely, she never included Enrique in her praise. Tell me, how did you come to be with him this evening? Did he snatch you from those you truly want to be with? If so, say the word and I will run him through.”

Enrique knocked Tomás’s hand away from hers. “The moment you can best me, little brother, is the day I take to my bed.”

“You are quite old.”

She smiled at their banter and the way they clasped forearms, greeting each other, affection and loyalty on their faces.

“What damage did the Moors do?” Enrique asked.

Tomás glanced at the guards.

Enrique spoke to his men. “Join the soldiers.”

Once they rode away, Tomás turned to her. “Have you come here to heal?”

“Sí.”

“Two of the men are past hope. They were at the entrance to the village, guarding the others. Fire burned one poor fellow before anyone was able to put out the flames. Some of the others have wounds on their arms, legs, and torsos, though none seems deadly. For the most part, the women and children are safe, having run into the forest, hiding there when the raid began.”

She didn’t understand. “What do you mean for the most part?”

“One young woman is heavy with child. The events caused the babe to want to come earlier than he should.”

“Has she had the infant?”

“She was still in the birthing process shortly before you arrived.”

Enrique glanced around. “Is the surgeon here?”

“He saw what was needed, did all he could, and said he was returning to the
fortaleza
. If anyone new required his skills, we could send for him again.”

She suspected the man had done little, hardly knowing any better, blaming his botched treatments on his patients’ poor health or God’s will. “What of the women who usually tend to the ill in this village?”

Tomás lifted his shoulders. “No one came forward to help the worst of the lot. Many of the women are too busy taking care of their own husbands and others in their families to worry about anyone else.”

“May I see the wounded?”

He exchanged a glance with Enrique, seeking his permission to grant what she’d asked. Her cheeks burned at him affording Enrique the right of a husband over her, but she kept her tongue. Neither man meant harm. They were simply behaving as males did in regards to women.

Enrique blew out a sigh but finally nodded. “Show us.”

After a short ride, they reached the community. The area stank of smoke as most villages seemed to, only this stench was far worse. The Moors had set fire to the roofs of several huts. Black smoke and steam billowed upward. The villagers and soldiers worked feverishly to quench the flames, saving as much as they could. Pens that had probably been tidy and well-tended were now in disarray, the animals gone or killed. A pig’s carcass lay to the left, the wound in the animal’s side bloody and gaping. Someone had nearly beheaded a mule. The creature’s body had fallen on a mongrel, also dead.