Passionate Pursuit Page 4

  He had to try, and fumbled for the first pin.

  She pulled her mouth free, desire and shock on her face.

  “Beatriz.”

  On her feet, she backed away, then returned and swiped her cap off the floor. “I have to go.”

  He stood. “I meant no harm.”

  “I know.” She shoved the cap on her head.

  The silly thing was askew. He set about straightening it. She twisted away and grabbed her cloth.

  “Wait.” He stood between her and the door. “Was our kiss so awful?”

  Tears shone in her eyes. “How can you ask such a thing?”

  “I want to know if you enjoyed me as much as I did you.”

  “You know I did.” She approached so quickly, he took an instinctive step back. “How could I not?”

  He grinned.

  She moaned. “I have to go.”

  “When will I see you again?”

  “Like this?” She gestured to the room, her eyes wide and wild. “Never. If Nuncio caught me here, he would make me pay dearly for my indiscretion.”

  “Our kiss was hardly your indiscretion. It was our shared pleasure. You seem to have forgotten this is my castle, not his. Ignore him. I want to see you again and have you read to me every night.”

  She frowned. “No. Never ask again.”

  “Ask? As I said, this is my castle. I give the orders.”

  “Not to me.” She pushed past him, opened the door, and ran down the hall.

  Certain he’d catch up, he followed seconds later but was still too late. The next hall branched in two directions, every door within both spaces closed. She’d disappeared like a ghost or had slipped into a room.

  He feared opening the doors. A señorita might have wandered into a chamber and would welcome his presence with kisses and a plan to trap him into marriage.

  Muttering a curse, he retraced his steps to the study.

  A door closed two rooms prior to his.

  He stopped, not even considering Beatriz. He would have seen her duck into the space. Had to be another servant tidying this area…or a señorita checking out the fine furnishings and other riches he owned.

  Once past the door, he walked backward, waiting for movement.

  Nothing.

  He turned to his study. Nuncio stood at the end of the hall. The older man regarded Tomás despairingly and left.

  Chapter 3

  Beatriz hid in the shadowed room, fingers to her mouth. A poor substitute for Tomás’s silky lips, his tongue invading, demanding, possessing like the lord he was, his bristly cheeks rasping hers.

  His role may have been to give orders, but he hadn’t needed to do so with her. She’d surrendered more willingly than a seasoned harlot, experiencing no shame, wanting far more, their carnal adventures surpassing anything El Cid had encountered in his fantastic tales.

  She could still smell Tomás’s scent, fresh as the morning air, musky with male need. Her incessant longing would surely do her in. At the pace they’d managed tonight, they’d never finish any tale. Nor would mere kissing satisfy for long. She predicted no more than two days, maybe less, before they lost restraint. Already she craved him mounting her with a warrior’s right. Having them pretend his forces had invaded her country and now she, the conquered maiden, was his for the taking, to do with as he willed, no matter how shameless.

  Footsteps rang in the hall.

  Beatriz held her breath. The sounds drew nearer, paused, resumed, then stopped outside the room. Candlelight spilled through the crack beneath the door.

  Tomás.

  Despite her longing for him, she cowered. Good sense said he should never approach her again. If she conceived, Señora Cisneros and Nuncio would insist she leave immediately with nowhere else to go. No lord would hire an unwed woman who was with child. She’d starve.

  If she stayed here, rumors would rage, servants speculating as to the child’s father. Nobles might follow suit and wonder if Tomás was responsible. Soon, everyone would gossip about them, which could lead to complete ruin. If Tomás learned what she’d hidden from him and the others here, he’d see her in a different light, never trusting her again.

  The door handle moved down. Still wanting him but fearing she’d lose control or that Rufio might be on the other side, she huddled closer to the wall.

  Nuncio entered and spotted her immediately despite how she hid. “So here you are.” He sounded as if he’d expected to find her on Tomás’s lap.

  How dare he? She’d done exactly what he’d wanted, stopping Tomás and herself before they went too far. For her stellar behavior, she received Nuncio’s ridicule. Outrage hit Beatriz so hard, she shook. “Do you never sleep?”

  His wan complexion reddened. He closed the door.

  She stormed toward him. “I was reading to the master, nothing more.” She kept her voice low so no one else would hear, including Tomás, Rufio, or a señorita who might also be stalking her. “If you must know, the book was Cantar del Mio Cid. The part where El Cid conquers Valencia. Care to hear more?”

  Nuncio stepped back.

  She followed. “No need to be shy. The tale is quite stirring. Even you might enjoy it. If not, perhaps the adventure could put you to sleep once and for all.”

  “So you know how to read.”

  Her stomach fell. She kept giving away her secrets too easily.

  “How do you have such a skill?”

  “You mean as a servant or as a woman?”

  “Either will do.”

  How casually he’d insulted her. At another time and place, she would have made him pay. Not now. “I misspoke.” She shrugged. “Don Tomás read to me and I parroted his words.”

  “I heard no one speaking in his study except you.”

  “You eavesdropped?” Indignant, she jabbed her finger at him. “With your ear to the door?”

  He backed away. Beatriz advanced with them going in circles, him looking frightened again, her railing. “What do you think Don Tomás would do if he knew you were at his door listening? Would you like me to tell him?”

  “I insist you to stay away from the man.”

  “How do you propose I do so when he owns this castle and has a right to be wherever he wants within these walls?”

  Nuncio glared. “With you always nearby. I see what goes on. You keep trying to tempt him.”

  Keep? Beatriz had succeeded beyond her wildest dreams without trying in the least. “Nothing untoward happened between us.”

  He glanced at her cap.

  The thing kept slipping forward, nearly covering her right eye. She set it straight over her braid. “Don Tomás read to me and I repeated his words. That. Is. All. Knowing how much you worry, I left before he could even think to make a move, since a man’s passion is my burden, not his. How lucky to be born male.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and lifted her chin. “The room is still quite dusty. I had no chance to finish my work.”

  “Little wonder considering what I heard from there.” Nuncio mimicked a moan and whimper.

  Coming from him the noises sounded comical and vaguely repulsive. “El Cid’s woes nearly drove me to tears. I fled before Don Tomás could see. I had no wish to upset him.”

  “Did you now? How thoughtful of you to spare him a few womanly tears. A warrior who has seen men torn apart in battle and witnessed countless deaths of Spain’s finest soldiers, many of them his dearest friends. You are kind.”

  She wanted to thrash him. “May I return to my work?”

  “I expect you to leave this castle immediately.”

  Her fury dissolved beneath stark fear. “I did nothing wrong. Don Tomás will tell you as much. Ask him.”

  “I have no intention of troubling the master with this.”

  “Fine. I will.” Tomás would never send her away at anyone’s request. He ruled here, not Nuncio.

  The moment she reached the door, Nuncio grabbed her upper ar
m and pulled her back.

  She clenched her jaw. “Release me.”

  “I forbid you to speak to Don Tomás.”

  “You expect me to leave with only the clothes on my back, possibly starve without work, but say nothing to my patrón? I think not.” She yanked her arm from him.

  Nuncio edged past her and blocked the door. “I can inquire about positions for you at other estates.”

  She flushed hot, then went cold. Not for a second had she called his bluff by promising to speak to Tomás. Nuncio seemed determined to see her go, no matter what she threatened.

  For her to leave the estate would mean never seeing Tomás again. The only thing making her days bearable was to be nearby when he strolled across the grounds, strode down a hall, read a missive, and spoke to the other servants. She didn’t want to leave and wouldn’t. Nuncio would have to throw her out bodily. Given how old and bony he was, she didn’t think he could overpower her for long. “No.”

  He straightened even more, looking down his nose.

  She did the same. “Your search for another position for me could take weeks and may come to nothing.”

  “I have other connections. With your reading skill, you could work as a tutor in the city.”

  Bile rose to her throat. She swallowed hard, forcing the hideous taste down. “No. Never. I told you, I merely repeated the words Don Tomás read. The only work I can do is what Señora Cisneros has tasked me with here. I must stay. If you throw me out, you may be responsible for my demise.”

  He arched one eyebrow. “What of your mamá? What keeps you from returning to her?”

  “The living I make here. I send her money so she can survive. Her death will also be on your head if you force me to leave. Do you want to risk your place in heaven by being so cruel to two helpless women?”

  “Helpless? I gave you a warning, yet you refused to heed my words.”

  “Were you there?”

  “I heard.”

  Ah yes, she’d forgotten he’d eavesdropped. “Allow me to stay and I promise to keep away from Don Tomás even if he follows me like ducklings with their mamá.”

  “This time, I can make certain you do so.”

  She leaned away. “What do you mean?”

  “You can remain at the castle until I locate another position for you elsewhere, so my conscience is clear and my soul is ready for paradise. However, your days of dusting our master’s study and the bedchambers have come to an end.”

  * * * *

  Tomás’s mood couldn’t have been deadlier. Already, he’d suffered through two days with the señoritas buzzing around him like bees on a flower, refusing him a moment’s peace or privacy. From dawn to well past midnight, they bombarded him with their chatter and wheedled him relentlessly until he agreed to play checkers, chess, whisk, all fours, and other card games until he was ready to run off, shrieking like one who was demon possessed.

  If such behavior had dissuaded them from staying here, he would have played the part well. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to deter them from seeking a betrothal. He kept fending them off while also trying to find Beatriz.

  The few times he checked the bedchambers and his study she wasn’t around. Nuncio was, advising Tomás to return to the señoritas immediately lest they think him rude for ignoring them.

  He hardly cared, though safety did become a concern when they tried their skill at archery. Their wayward arrows came perilously close to his servants who delivered refreshments to the mamás. With that trouble over, the señoritas now played hoodman’s blind.

  Ines wore the blindfold and tried to catch the others who laughed and scurried away. With her hands sweeping air, Ines ran heedlessly into a servant. The poor girl toppled over a bush, bumped her head, and scraped her elbows.

  Ines yanked off the blindfold and gave her a mean scowl. “Stay out of my way, do you hear?”

  Nuncio edged closer to Tomás. “Best you keep an eye on your guests or risk losing one of the help.”

  He already had. “Have you seen Beatriz?”

  “Not out here.”

  He tightened his fists. “I can see as much. Where is she?”

  “Tending to her duties as servants do.”

  “She has yet to dust my study. Send her there at once.” Tomás proceeded to the room determined to wait for her. Given how they’d parted, they had to speak, touch, kiss again, and share so much more.

  He waited for what seemed hours. Footfalls finally approached. Another servant, barely past childhood, offered a nervous smile from the doorway. He frowned. “Why are you here?”

  He looked past her for Beatriz. Perhaps she was training the girl on the intricacies of dusting.

  “To tidy your study, Patrón.”

  “Wait.” He held up his hand to keep her from entering. “Who sent you here?”

  “Señor Nuncio.”

  Unspeakable irritation raced through Tomás. “Where is Beatriz?”

  The girl stared at his fists and lifted her shoulders.

  “Return to your other duties.” He strode past.

  Outside, he remained in shadows, making certain his guests didn’t notice him. He hardly wanted them to pull him into their silly play. Nuncio wasn’t with the others.

  Tomás checked the man’s bedchamber next. Empty. He wasn’t in the public rooms or dining hall.

  At last, Tomás strode toward his study. Nuncio was at the open door, peering inside, his back to Tomás.

  Of all the outrageous behavior. “Checking up on me?”

  Nuncio flinched and looked over, his mood inscrutable. However, his complexion was ashier than normal.

  “I came to check on your study.” He offered a stiff smile. “The room appears quite clean now. Does the appearance meet with your approval?”

  “No. I have yet to see Beatriz inside. What have you done with her?”

  His smile disappeared. “Nothing. What about you?”

  Tomás approached, forcing Nuncio to enter the room or risk a physical confrontation if they touched. The time for fair play was at an end. He slammed the door. “Where is she? Precisely.”

  “Seeing to her duties as you should see to yours.”

  “What I do is none of your concern. Do you understand?”

  Sweat beaded on Nuncio’s forehead. In his haste to put distance between himself and Tomás, he bumped into a chair. “Are you actually going to strike me?”

  “I promise to strangle you if you keep avoiding my question.”

  “I thought you valued my advice.”

  “I do. When I seek you out, not when you try to force your will on me.”

  “Someone has to see to your welfare as you refuse to do so.”

  Tomás threw up his hands. “There you go again, meddling. Did you send Beatriz away?”

  “And risk having you murder me?” He stepped behind a box chair. “I had Señora Cisneros assign her new duties.”

  “In one of the villages I own?”

  “If only such a thing were possible.”

  Tomás growled.

  Nuncio sighed. “The other night, Beatriz ran from your study with you chasing after her. Explain that.”

  As though they were father and son with Tomás not yet of age. He kept himself from yelling. “Gladly. We were playing a new game. We call it annoy Nuncio until he minds his own business or dies at my hands.”

  “Make light of this if you will, but the girl is naught but trouble for you.”

  “How? By being my friend? Is such a thing so tragic?”

  Nuncio pressed his hand to his throat. “You intend to be her friend? A servant? Why?”

  “For the same reason you and I are friends. We are, no?”

  The man’s face went bright red. “I served long and well with your family. I earned my spot. Beatriz is a relative stranger.”

  Not to Tomás. He seemed to have known her forever, liking how she made him smile and laugh, enjoying how co
mfortable she was to be around. Thrilling too. Everything a man could desire in a woman. What he wanted in a manservant was another matter entirely, though he couldn’t get into that now with Nuncio looking close to a swoon. Tomás tempered his aggravation. “No one can ever replace you. Unless I have to murder you for an answer. For your own survival tell me where you sent her.”

  Nuncio exhaled loudly and seemed to shrink with the lost air. For the first time, he seemed more than ancient. He looked frail.

  Tomás backed off. “Is she still in the castle, or did you send her to the stable?”

  “I asked Señora Cisneros to put her to work in the kitchen.”

  “Baking?” Of course, the same as her late papá.

  “No.”

  He frowned. “What then?”

  “As a scullery maid.”

  * * * *

  Gritting her teeth, Beatriz prayed for more strength than she possessed. The bucket she carried was impossibly heavy. Water sloshed over the sides with each step she took. She was several feet from the area she needed to scrub when her knees wobbled uncontrollably and her arms shook.

  “Watch what you do,” another servant said. She frowned at the puddles Beatriz had trailed into the kitchen. “If one of us slips and hurts ourselves, Cook will look to you to take our place.”

  They’d have to pull her off the floor first. Never had she been as tired. Every part of her ached. She’d scoured, scrubbed, washed, and polished until she figured everlasting damnation couldn’t be worse. Give her Hell’s fire any day over this misery. “What happened to the scullery maid whose place I took?”

  “Over there.” The woman inclined her head to a sturdy girl Beatriz guessed to be no more than fifteen. She gutted a hog with apparent glee. Blood and entrails had splashed on the floor.

  “Leonor has much to learn.” The woman salted her meat. “Until she does, you need to clean up the mess she makes. Watch her carefully. One day you can pluck chickens, scale fish, and gut animals as she does.”

  Only if she lived that long. Well short of her goal, Beatriz sank to her knees.

  Rufio lifted his eyebrows, his smirk widening. He sat on the other end of the wide table where Leonor worked, swinging his legs back and forth. “Having trouble?” he asked Beatriz. “Need my help?”