The princesss secret lon.., p.22
The Princess's Secret Longing, page 22
Alba pointed at a flight of steps. ‘That way, I think. For pity’s sake, hurry!’
Raquel fled.
The next few minutes were a waking nightmare. Guillen danced about the assassin, sword drawn, driving him away from Alba. The gardens were uncannily quiet. Alba prayed that Lord Inigo would arrive before his squire was butchered.
The Toledan sword flickered, a bright white line. Guillen skipped nimbly out of the way.
The assassin closed in, stabbing and slashing like a madman. Again, Guillen leaped aside.
Another stab. A slash. Saints preserve them, the Toledan steel hit its mark, ripping through Guillen’s tunic at the shoulder. A faint streak of red appeared.
The assassin grinned and beckoned Guillen forward. ‘Come on, boy, can’t you do better than that?’
‘Stand down, Guillen, I have him.’ Lord Inigo strolled coolly on to the terrace. His eyebrows lifted. ‘Martin Díez, who would have thought it? Care to cross swords with me?’
Alba gasped. Lord Inigo knew this man?
The deadly dance began again, and confusion was forgotten as one thought dominated the rest. What if Lord Inigo was hurt? Alba couldn’t bear to watch, yet she couldn’t not watch. Her mouth dried. Watch she must. She had never seen a sword fight, and each time this Díez slashed and lunged, her stomach cramped. Steel rang out as Lord Inigo parried every thrust, and the cramps worsened. He mustn’t be hurt! He mustn’t! He hadn’t even looked Alba’s way and that, she told herself, was a blessing. It was focus or die.
She was vaguely aware of Guillen nursing his shoulder. His eyes never left his lord.
Raquel’s face was the colour of snow and at every feint and pass, she gasped. When Lord Inigo drew blood and a small red line appeared on the back of Díez’s hand, she moaned and swayed. Fearing the steward’s wife was about to faint, and that her lord would be distracted, possibly fatally, Alba slipped to her side.
‘Hold firm,’ Alba murmured, and they clung to each other. ‘My lord is in command here.’
Raquel nodded. ‘I know. It’s hard though.’
Alba couldn’t argue with that. When she tasted blood, she realised she had bitten her tongue to stop herself from crying out. She willed Lord Inigo to take care. Stay safe, my lord.
The assassin was puffing and blowing like a bellows, winded, but not yet fully spent. He made a clumsy lunge, a feint. Steel clashed, and his blade rasped up Lord Inigo’s all the way to the cross guard.
A line of silver flashed as Lord Inigo parried, the Toledan sword almost shaved his cheek. Alba held her breath. Was Lord Inigo toying with the man? He was a formidable swordsman, when he followed through with a couple of swift, deadly passes, red bloomed on the assassin’s arm and again on his chest. He staggered back and leaned against a pillar, panting.
To Alba’s dismay, Lord Inigo didn’t press home his advantage.
‘Tell me, Díez,’ he spoke almost conversationally, ‘whose banner do you march under these days?’
‘Go to hell!’
‘Last I knew, you were employed here in Seville.’
The assassin’s face twisted. ‘Not any more.’
Lord Inigo flexed his sword arm, a negligent movement that was oddly threatening. ‘Oh, and why is that?’
‘None of your damn business.’
Lord Inigo’s eyes were hard as slate. ‘Díez, there are two ways this can go. You can offer your testimony about the events leading up to the death of the King’s envoy in Córdoba, and I give you my word I’ll speak up on your behalf. Fail to do that and I promise you nothing save a bleak and bloody end.’
‘Liar.’ The assassin’s face twisted into a sneer. He pushed away from the pillar, pointing his sword at Lord Inigo’s chest. ‘No lord ever spoke up for a mercenary.’
‘This one will, if you make a full confession. Think about it.’
‘When hell freezes over.’ Martin Díez spat at the ground and lunged.
The clash of steel sent doves hurtling from their perches. Save for the whirr of birds’ wings and the harsh breathing of the duellists, it was ominously quiet.
Lord Inigo made a careful pass. Alba knew she was watching a master, his slightest movement was considered—from his stance, strong and certain, to the calm way his eyes never left his opponent.
Díez was all anger, he had no finesse. Another measured pass was parried so clumsily a bunch of grapes was sliced from the trellis and fell to the ground. The mercenary flinched, his eyes were bulging like those of a frightened horse. His chest heaved, he was almost blown.
‘Sweet Mother, Díez, see sense. You’re no duellist. You have a fine sword, the pity is your skill doesn’t match it.’
Díez replied with another wild swipe, slipped on the grapes and almost lost his footing. A couple of deadly passes followed and the Toledan sword clattered to the ground.
‘I yield, damn you.’ Díez lifted his hands in surrender.
Guillen moved in and kicked the sword out of reach.
‘Are you all right, lad?’
‘Yes, my lord, just a scratch.’
‘Then bind him.’
‘Aye, my lord.’
Lord Inigo rounded on Alba, eyes blazing. ‘My lady, what in the name of all that’s holy are you doing here?’
Chapter Fifteen
Alba released her death grip on Raquel and stumbled towards Inigo. All she wanted was to fling her arms about him and reassure herself that he was whole, but he was glaring at her as though she was the last person he wanted to see.
‘It’s good to see you too, my lord.’ Alba looked meaningfully at the assassin. ‘This Díez is definitely the man I saw outside the goldsmith’s house.’
Inigo took a deep breath and those penetrating grey eyes searched hers. ‘You’d swear to that?’
‘There’s no doubt. I know you didn’t see his face, but I saw it clear as day. He is the murderer.’
‘Thank you, my lady. Having you as a witness will help in the interrogation.’ Lord Inigo bent to pick up the discarded sword. ‘Toledan steel, just as you told me,’ he murmured. ‘Luis?’
‘My lord?’
Alba blinked, she’d been so taken up with the sword fight, she hadn’t noticed that several other people had appeared, among them a boy she had seen working in the stables at Lord Inigo’s Córdoban town house. Furthermore, beyond the vine-covered trellis, a cluster of courtiers was watching, wide-eyed.
Alba was bursting to ask what else Lord Inigo knew about the assassin, but with half the Seville court present, it wasn’t the right moment.
‘Assist Guillen in taking Díez to the lock-up, Luis,’ Lord Inigo was saying. ‘I shall question him shortly. And, Guillen?’
‘My lord?’
‘Borrow some of the palace guards, Díez mustn’t escape.’ Inigo sheathed his sword and crooked his arm at Alba. ‘Come, my lady, permit me to show you to a guest chamber. Lady Raquel, you too.’
Alba took Lord Inigo’s arm. She was so thankful he wasn’t hurt, she couldn’t help hugging it. His manner was carefully formal, but he covered her hand with his and she felt the faintest of caresses as his thumb swept over the back of her hand. She hid a smile, she loved it when he did that. In his heart, he was pleased to see her, though he would never make a grand display, particularly since they had an audience.
The courtiers parted to allow them through, and they ascended the steps and entered the Alcázar. The antechamber was breathtaking, Alba was taken aback by the resemblance to her father’s palace in Granada.
Plasterwork was painted and gilded in gorgeous colours and tiled floors gleamed. Horseshoe arches gave tantalising glimpses into magnificent state chambers and pillared courtyards. Ladies in silks and satins promenaded slowly along the colonnades. There was even a peacock, its long tail trailing across a marble floor as it made its stately way past a fountain.
As they went deeper into the palace, Alba caught Raquel giving her and Lord Inigo more than one sideways glance. Her new friend had noticed Lord Inigo’s fingers were entwined with Alba’s.
Blushing, Alba made to pull free. Lord Inigo wouldn’t permit it. He strode purposefully on, through glittering rooms where light from multi-coloured windows tinted delicate plasterwork with reds and greens and blues. He came to a halt outside a polished wood door.
‘You will find refreshment inside, my lady,’ he said, running his gaze over Alba in a way that made her all too conscious of how travel-stained she was.
‘Thank you, I am sure I look quite dreadful.’
‘You are as enchanting as ever,’ he murmured. With a bow, he released her. ‘Lady Raquel, is your husband aware you are here?’
Raquel bristled. ‘Naturally, my lord.’
‘That is a relief.’ Lord Inigo’s voice was dry. ‘If you came without his blessing, I would assuredly never have heard the end of it. Lady Raquel, would you be so good as to attend Lady Alba?’
‘My lord, you have no need to ask.’
Alba caught his gaze. ‘Shall we see you later, my lord?’
‘After I’ve interviewed Baron Fernando’s mercenary.’
Alba’s breath caught. ‘Baron Fernando’s?’
‘Aye, I know Martin Díez of old, the last I heard he was in the employ of Baron Fernando.’
Turning on his heel, Lord Inigo walked back the way they had come, leaving Alba and Raquel staring after him with their mouths agape.
‘Baron Fernando is Lady Margarita’s brother,’ Alba said wonderingly.
‘So he is.’ Raquel pushed at the door. ‘Come, my lady, I’m sure you are as eager for refreshment as I.’
* * *
The sky over the palace gardens was bright, although beyond the western wall several rosy, gold-tinted clouds warned that sunset wasn’t far away.
Inigo and Guillen had been searching high and low for Lady Alba for what seemed like an age.
Guillen spotted her first. ‘There she is, my lord.’
She was with his steward’s wife, walking along a path by two palms.
‘Guillen, be so good as to ask Lady Raquel if she and Lady Alba have everything they require,’ Inigo said quietly. ‘I’d like to speak to Lady Alba alone.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
Inigo took Alba’s hand and lifted it to his lips. Her eyes were sombre, though she smiled at his touch. It was heartening to see that gentle smile again, he’d been all too aware that his earlier greeting had been less than welcoming. When Lady Raquel had run to him saying that Alba and Guillen were being attacked in the gardens, his heart had missed several beats. And by the time he’d noticed that part of Alba’s veil had been cut away, a red mist had blocked his vision. There’d been no room for niceties.
Alba had changed into a fresh gown which was very becoming, apricot in colour, it was edged with cream. Her veil was also cream and, thankfully, whole. She looked more herself. Inigo felt his tension drain away.
‘You look rested, my lady. I hope they took care of you.’
‘Thank you, everyone has been most kind. Lady Raquel arranged for my clothes to be fetched. My old veil—’
Inigo’s jaw tightened. ‘I noticed that Díez had cut it about. I trust you yourself are unharmed?’
‘I am fine, my lord.’ She peeped up at him through her eyelashes, eyes anxious. ‘You mentioned knowing this man of old?’
‘He’s a mercenary. Hires himself to the highest bidder. I ran across him when he was working for Baron Fernando.’
‘You have finished questioning him?’
‘For the moment.’ Inigo kissed her hand again. He was going to win this woman, even though winning her was like working his way through a maze. He’d wanted her from the first, despite the many obstacles. She’d asked him to give her a child and he hoped and prayed that she would only have done so because she was attracted to him. Perhaps more than attracted. For so long he hadn’t believed in love. Nor, as he recalled it, had she. With her arrival in Seville, was it possible that she had changed her mind?
Was he deluding himself? Alba had come after him...
The maze twisted this way and that. Until he heard back from the King, Margarita remained an obstacle, though it seemed wrong to peg his betrothed as an obstacle. None the less, he would win Alba, her hand and her love, for he had come to understand that he couldn’t have one without the other. Until today, despite his desire to win her, he’d not been confident of success. Her presence here had changed all that. She had come after him. She wasn’t ready to bid him farewell.
I will win her.
Heavens, what he felt for her was so all-consuming, it even seemed possible it would last.
‘My lord, I’ve been thinking about Díez.’ Puzzled dark eyes held his. ‘When I saw him by the quayside, before he gave chase, he was on foot. I was on horseback. How on earth did he get to the palace so quickly?’
‘There’s not an alley and side street he doesn’t know, I expect he took a shortcut.’
‘And how did he slip past the guards?’
‘Rank bribery.’
‘What?’
‘Aye. He slipped some coin to a dolt of a guard, told him he was on an urgent mission and the other fools were persuaded to let him in. They are being disciplined.’
With a swift glance about her, Alba leaned in and whispered, ‘Did he kill the King’s man on the Baron’s order?’
He pressed his finger gently to her mouth. ‘Hush, my lady, until my investigation is concluded, we must be wary of what we say.’
She looked solemnly at him. ‘I understand.’
Inigo spoke softly. ‘I suspect there’s more to this than the theft of a jewelled book by a disgruntled mercenary. Baron Fernando is known to be a poor steward, he has run his estate into the ground. I’d assumed he had reserves to draw upon, but perhaps his coffers are empty. My lady, I received word that, while I was subject to your father’s hospitality, Crown revenues were going missing here in Seville.’
Mention of her father brought colour to her cheeks and she looked swiftly away. ‘I don’t know how you can look at me, never mind speak to me, my lord,’ she whispered.
Gently, he turned her face back to his. ‘My lady, I hope you know that I am not so unreasonable as to hold you responsible for the Sultan’s sins.’
She stared at him for a long moment before nodding. ‘You have always shown me kindness. My lord, you must know I hold you in the highest esteem.’
He felt himself smile. ‘That is good to hear.’
‘Lord Inigo.’ Her voice sank to little more than a whisper. ‘About the Crown revenues, what else did Díez say?’
‘Thus far, very little. Never fear, if he’s left to cool his heels long enough, I am confident he will say more.’
A bench stood beneath a tumble of pink roses and Inigo guided her towards it. It was late in the season for roses and the air was heady with their scent. Alba sat neatly next to him, her thigh lightly brushing his. She was looking through an arch towards Lady Raquel and Guillen, giving Inigo the perfect opportunity to study her profile.
Lord, she was pretty. The deepening twilight did nothing to hide the curve of her brow, the length of her eyelashes and the fullness of her lips. Inigo’s heart thumped, and his thumb went on caressing her hand. He couldn’t stop if he tried. On the contrary, the impulse to tug her towards him was irresistible. He ached to turn her face to his and look deeply into those black eyes. In this light, would he see those golden flecks?
He followed the direction of her gaze. Lady Raquel and Guillen were partially hidden by another screen of roses.
The dusk thickened. The warmth in Alba’s smile drove away reason and sense, all Inigo wanted was to pull her into to his arms. No one would see. Apart from Lady Raquel and Guillen, no one else was about...
Cupping her face with his palm, he leaned in. ‘My lady, I—’
Then his lips were on hers and he forgot what he had been about to say. The garden fell away, and both Margarita and Díez were blinked out of existence. Nothing was real save the warmth of Alba’s mouth and the way her body leaned into his. The elusive scent of jasmine mingled with that of the roses. Alba gave an inarticulate murmur and he drew back.
‘My lady?’
Above them, the sunset flared gold and crimson. She shook her head, lifted her lips to his and kissed him back. With passion. With sweetness and promise.
Inigo’s pulse thudded, and he felt a strong echo in his loins. He knew he should stop, none the less, the kiss deepened. Her tongue was touching his and he was unable to help himself. Kissing Alba was all that there was. It was both right and necessary and he was caught in a curious enchantment in which longing, desire and need merged into one.
Lady Raquel’s voice broke the spell. In a trice Inigo was back in the garden, sitting under a shower of pink roses with a Nasrid princess in his arms.
A princess who was trembling and who carefully extricated herself from his grasp.
‘My lord, anyone might see us.’
She sounded breathless and was flushing as brightly as the roses. She looked adorable.
He reached for her hand. ‘I apologise, but I needed that. I wanted to kiss you earlier, only not with half the court looking on.’
With a sigh, he leaned back. He wanted to do more than kiss Alba, but he wouldn’t be so crude as to admit it. It was beyond frustrating. At that moment, he would have given his entire estate to be able to tell her what had passed between him and Margarita. He wanted Alba to know that Margarita hoped to marry Sir Arnau, and that if the King agreed, he would be a free man. As matters stood, his hands were tied.
‘I feared you might be angry,’ she murmured.
‘With you? No. Afraid you’d been hurt? Yes.’ He nudged her shoulder with his. ‘As for kissing you just now, I couldn’t help myself.’
‘I understand, my lord, I feel the same.’
