Witchrise (34 page)

‘Bla . . . bla . . . what is that?’ he demanded, shaking his head at the unfamiliar word.

‘Dried seaweed.’

He was silenced. ‘You stopped that woman’s curse with seaweed?’

I nodded, adding lightly, ‘And human blood. That was the difficult part. It had to be mine, you see. Because the curse had been partly laid on me. As your future wife.’

He was smiling, but his eyes searched mine anxiously. ‘You idiot. How much blood?’

‘A pint.’

He was aghast. ‘A whole pint of your blood? You could have died.’

‘We took it out very carefully – Richard knew how to do so. I was weak for a few days afterwards, it’s true. But I recovered.’

‘
Dios mio!
’ he exclaimed hoarsely, slamming his fist against the stone wall. ‘This woman will be the death of me, God!’

I bit my lip, waiting for the storm in his eyes to pass.

It did not take long.

‘But now you will marry me, yes?’ He caught me up in his arms, saying huskily, ‘Say yes,
mi querida
. I could never have lived without you anyway. Not as a whole man. That was why I was preparing to enter the monastery. I spoke with my father today. He arrived from court, insisted I must marry Juana. But I refused. He was furious! I have rejected my title, my family, everything that makes me Alejandro de Castillo. I was just about to spend my night in waking vigil when you—’

‘Burst in on you dressed as a boy?’

His smile was lopsided. ‘
Si
.’

‘I love you, Alejandro. Even if you do want to be a monk.’

‘I don’t,’ he insisted. ‘Want to be a monk, that is. I want to be your husband, and live in England with you, and leave this place behind if it means I can be with you.’

We kissed, then I drew back, still hesitant. ‘There’s only one thing . . .’

‘You must keep your power after we are married,’ he said bluntly, then nodded, seeing my shock. ‘Yes, I have had many long days to think since returning to Spain, and I see now how unjust it would be to demand such a sacrifice from you. Besides, I fell in love with you
because
you were a witch, Meg Lytton. It is who you are, not merely a dangerous game you like to play, as I once supposed. Why would I wish you to relinquish who you are at heart? I was a fool to ask it of you. And I beg you to forgive me.’

‘I do forgive you, I do. But you are not afraid of what may happen if I am ever discovered to be a witch?’

‘You have been interrogated by the Spanish Inquisition, tortured by Miguel de Pero, discovered in the midst of magick who knows how many times . . . My love, I have faith in you. You could cast a circle in the great court of Spain itself and I swear you would escape unscathed.’

We held each other for a long while, our mouths meeting passionately, until there was a discreet cough from the doorway.

‘I was getting cold down there in the dark,’ Richard complained. ‘And there’s a fat man coming up the stairs.’

‘Father Pietro!’ Alejandro exclaimed, then grasped my hand. ‘He is a priest. And one of the finest men I have ever known.’ To my bewilderment, he dropped to one knee and took my hand, gazing up earnestly into my face. ‘I have thought of this moment a thousand times,’ he said intently, ‘and had all my lines rehearsed. But time is short, and we may never get another opportunity to settle this between us. Not if my father has his way.’ He kissed my hand, my skin tingling under his lips. ‘If Richard will consent to act as our witness, will you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife, Meg Lytton?’

‘Here? Tonight?’

His face was tense, watching me. ‘
Si, mi querida
.’

I looked about the bare cell-like room of the tower, where a cool wind was now whistling through the windows after the heat of the day. No flowers, no gown, no friends and family, no feast or dancing afterwards: just me and Alejandro speaking our vows, Richard as witness, and a priest to join us together.

Ours had never been an ordinary friendship. It seemed right that we should not marry in an ordinary way either.

‘Yes,’ I said simply.

I woke in the night with a gasp, thinking a spider had run over my leg. But it was only a piece of straw sticking through the blankets Alejandro had laid down for us on the floor when the wine was finished and night had fallen.

His arms came round me at once, warm and protective, our bodies spooned together under his cloak. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, instantly alert to danger, though I knew Alejandro had been asleep like me, both of us too tired to keep our eyes open a moment longer.

‘Nothing. The straw . . .’

‘Not a very comfortable bed for a wedding night, I know,’ he admitted with a chuckle. ‘We’ll leave at first light, which should not be far off now. And we’ll stop for the night on the road tonight. Somewhere with a proper bed. And shutters over the windows. So I can demonstrate to my new bride just how very much in love with her I am.’

‘Oh, I think you demonstrated that quite well without a comfortable bed,’ I replied, and blushed as his hand crept lower, caressing me in a way that made my toes curl up with sheer pleasure.

‘Yes, I was not very controlled. The servants are going to wonder how I broke that table,’ he muttered in my ear.

‘And the stool.’

‘I broke the stool too?’

I nodded, and wriggled against him so that he gave a quiet laugh.

‘Ah, so eager.’

I smiled secretly. ‘I’m just making sure you don’t decide to go off in the morning and become a monk after all.’

‘It is almost morning now. And you will not get rid of me that easily, my love.’ Sleepily he rubbed his cheek against my shoulder. ‘But I still have not thanked you,
mi alma
.’

‘For what?’

‘For forgiving me. I left you so cruelly at Hatfield. I thought it best to make you hate me.’

‘I very nearly did.’

His voice was husky. ‘I thank God you changed your mind, then. And came so far to find me. Without you, I would still be cursed. And alone.’

My hand crept down between our bodies, and I heard him catch his breath.

‘My love,’ he said deeply, ‘we have a long journey ahead. And a difficult interview with my mother and father before we leave. We need to sleep.’

I turned in his arms, nestling against his bare chest. I could feel his heart beat now, strong and steady, and longed to make it speed up again, to race as it had done last night while we were learning every inch of each other’s bodies.

‘Husbands and wives do not sleep on their wedding night,’ I informed him primly. ‘Not in England anyway.’

‘But we are in Spain,
mi querida
.’

‘Enlighten me, then. What do chaste Spanish brides and grooms do on their wedding night?’ I asked innocently, rolling my hips against him, and was rewarded when his heart began to beat more swiftly.

‘Oh, I imagine they pray,’ Alejandro muttered against my mouth, then kissed down my throat, leaving fire wherever his lips touched.

‘Even when the bride is a witch?’ I teased him, gasping a little as his mouth slipped lower.

‘Especially then.’

Lying in the warmth of his arms, I worked the oldest magick of all while the stars faded behind his head and the sun began to rise over Spain.

As always, my grateful thanks to my agent Luigi Bonomi and his wife Alison at LBA, and to everyone at Random House Children’s Books, especially my lovely editor Lauren Buckland, Harriet Venn, Natalie Doherty, Bronwen Bennie, Clare Hall-Craggs and Annie Eaton. You are total stars.

Big hugs to my husband Steve, and of course my kids Kate, Becki, Bethany, Dylan, Morris and Indigo. Keep the cups of tea coming . . .

Thanks also to the veritable army of bloggers, posters and tweeps who nudge me along every day on social media, and without whom I would probably go mad. Or madder. Plus a big thank you to blogger Azahara Arenas for checking my Spanish. The friends I’ve made along this journey from first idea to final publication are all the more special for having helped shape the fictional world of my Tudor Witch Trilogy, chatting with me about my characters and ideas, often long into the night.

And lastly, thanks to Meg and Alejandro, without whom none of this would have been possible. I will miss them terribly now the trilogy is at an end.
Adios
!

Victoria x

While studying Elizabethan playwrights at university, Victoria Lamb always dreamt of writing a series of novels set in Tudor England. Now a busy mother of five, she has finally achieved that ambition after many years of research. Victoria lives in Cornwall.

Witchstruck

Witchfall

The Queen’s Secret

His Dark Lady

Her Last Assassin

WITCHRISE
AN RHCP DIGITAL EBOOK 978 1 448 12023 9

Published in Great Britain by RHCP Digital,
an imprint of Random House Children’s Publishers UK
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This ebook edition published 2014

Copyright © Victoria Lamb, 2014

First Published in Great Britain by Corgi, 2014

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