Don't Bargain with the Devil (34 page)

“That is not what I meant. Why did you leave the wardroom in such a rush?”

 

“No reason,” she choked out.

 

“No?” he said skeptically, lifting his hand to rub a tear from her cheek.

 

She hadn’t even realized she was crying.

 

It was the first time he’d touched her since their night together, and it was all she could do not to lean into his caress. But that would be dangerous. Especially when he wore an expression of such grave concern.

 

“Lucy,” he went on, “is it possible that you…is there a chance that you…”

 

“That I what?” She held her breath, praying he would say what she wanted to hear. That he hoped she would change her mind and marry him. That he wanted her to love him. That he loved her.

 

“Is there any chance that you are with child?”

 

Her heart sank. What a fool she was. He didn’t believe in love, remember?

 

“There’s no chance,” she assured him, putting the last nail into the coffin of her hopes for any future with Diego.

 

If he’d given her a child, he would almost certainly have renewed his proposal of marriage, and she would have accepted it, too. It was one thing to release a man from his obligations out of love for him. It was quite another to punish a child for its parents’ mistakes by depriving it of a father.

 

Oddly, Diego didn’t look as relieved to hear her answer as she’d expected. “Are you sure?”

 

“I’m sure.” She ducked her head, her face flaming. “My courses came and went last week.”

 

He tipped up her chin, his hand infinitely gentle. “Then why are you crying?”

 

With him touching her, her mind was a complete blank. “It’s nothing.”

 

A sudden gleam entered his eyes. “Perhaps you are in pain from having
this
in your ear.” He reached up and came back with an orange.

 

She eyed him askance. “No, that is definitely not the problem.”

 

“Then it’s the one in the other ear.” Dropping the first orange in her lap, he repeated the trick on the other side.

 

She couldn’t help it. She laughed.

 

“I can do this all night, you know,” he teased.

 

“You have that many oranges tucked inside your sleeves?” she said archly.

 

“Oranges. Walnuts. We had quite a supply at dinner, if
you recall, since Rafael broke out the rest of the stores now that we are nearly there.”

 

That brought her misery back again. “Yes,” she said tightly.

 

His smile faded. “Come, Lucy, tell me what is wrong,” he coaxed. “Or you will force me to turn you into a fruit basket until you do.”

 

Diego could be so persistent, God rot him. She seized on the only reason she could think of. “I’m nervous about meeting my grandfather.”

 

His face cleared. “Ah. Do not make yourself anxious over
that.
The man will be beside himself with joy to have you returned to him.”

 

“At first, perhaps. But what if he hates me? Or is disappointed in me?”

 

“You mean because you are no longer chaste?”

 

She blinked at him. That hadn’t even occurred to her. “Actually, no. Besides, I’ve decided not to tell him until I see how things go. Now that I’ve found the family I lost, I should make an effort to get to know them before I do anything drastic, don’t you think?”

 

Inexplicably, his face turned stony. “You understand what that means. He will begin introducing you to eligible men of his acquaintance.”

 

“I realize that.” She opted for nonchalance. “Who knows? I might actually meet a fellow I wish to marry. Of course, I’ll have to pretend to be an innocent, since that’s the only way a decent man would have me now.”

 

“That is not true,” he protested. “No man worth his salt would give you up for something as paltry as that.”

 

His remark startled her.
You did,
she wanted to say.

 

But it hadn’t been for that reason. Unfortunately, he’d done it for a more important one. She could still hear Ra
fael’s voice:
The hope of regaining Arboleda has been the impetus behind his success.
And how could a man with Diego’s pride break the solemn vow he’d made to his father? How could the woman who loved him let him?

 

“All the same,” she murmured, “it would probably be best to maintain the illusion of my innocence as long as I can. After all, I don’t know my grandfather. He may prove a draconian sort.”

 

“If he does,” Diego said fiercely, “then Rafael and I will pack you off on this ship and head back to London.”

 

She shot him a surprised glance. “Don’t be silly. If you did such a thing, you’d have to give up your estate.”

 

“I will not let him hurt you, Lucy.” He seized her hands, gripping them tightly. “I did not bring you all this way just to see you harmed. If anything about your situation alarms you in the weeks ahead, you must get word to me. I will come to you at once, I swear.”

 

Her breath caught. The feel of his hands against hers sent fire through her veins, and the way he was looking at her, as if he meant to kiss her…

 

Oh, no—that was exactly what he intended. He was lowering his head, his eyes smoldering in that way that made her heart flip over.

 

She ought to stop him. Even if this spot on the deck was hidden from sight of the sailors, someone
might
go up in the rigging and
might
see them. And she just
might
very well lose her heart.

 

Yet she lifted her mouth to meet his.

 

The kiss began softly, as if he feared startling her into bolting. His lips played over hers, tasting, savoring. She leaned into him and placed her hand on his chest, reveling in the quickening beat of his heart.

 

Then the kiss changed, became a hot, exhilarating seduction of her mouth. With a heartfelt groan, he slid his hand behind her neck while he ravished and plundered, like a pirate laying claim to a captive. His other hand drifted to her breast, and his wicked, glorious mouth burned wild and heady kisses down her throat.

 

“
Mi dulzura,
” he murmured. “Spend tonight with me. Please. Let us be together just once more.”

 

The words hit her like ice water, reminding her that for all his sweet words and sweeter caresses, he valued his duty more than her.

 

She wriggled free of his arms, fighting to quell the thundering of her pulse. “We were fortunate enough not to conceive a child the last time we spent the night together. Do you really wish to tempt Fate twice?”

 

A look of desperation came over his face. “There are ways to prevent—”

 

“It doesn’t matter.” She pushed herself to a stand, letting the oranges drop to the deck. “I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

 

It took all her will to leave. But she knew if she gave in to the siren call tonight, she would be begging him in the morning to give everything up for her. And regretting it later.

 

Diego watched her go with a pain as deep as the ocean that surrounded them. Somewhere in the recesses of his besotted brain, he knew he should not have asked her to share his bed tonight. He and Lucy had found a sort of friendship in these last weeks, and now he had wrecked it in one unguarded moment.

 

Yet he could not seem to help himself. Without her, he felt ill, like a sailor deprived of lemons to stave off the scurvy. In the past two weeks, he had vacillated between
relief that he would be able to go on with his plans and regret that he could not have her. The regret overtook the relief more every day.

 

Their daily lessons had been bad enough, with him forced to sit beside her and ignore the sheen of sun on her hair or her soft smile of delight when she mastered a new conjugation. But tonight brought a double jolt of torment. First, the news that there was no chance of a child to force her back into his arms. Second, the unexpected agony of hearing her speak matter-of-factly about other men courting her.

 

He smashed an orange beneath his hand.
Dios mio,
how could he bear that? Until now, he had consoled himself that at least she would not be marrying any other man. She would tell the
marqués
of her lost innocence, and Don Carlos would give up on trying to arrange a fine marriage for her.

 

Diego had even toyed with dreams of coming after her once Arboleda was well established as a working vineyard. Thanks to the lovemaking that had ruined her, she would still be free, whether in England or Spain, and he would be able to offer marriage without breaking his vow to his father.

 

What a selfish beast he was. He wanted her pining for him, waiting for him, while he did as he pleased. He had no right to that.

 

It took him several moments to gain enough control over his willful body to be presentable, but he lingered above deck a while longer, smoking a cigarillo. This was not supposed to be so difficult. He had what he wanted, and she would soon have more than she had ever dreamed of.

 

Who knows? I might actually meet a fellow I wish to marry.

 

He scowled into the moonlight. She would belong to some other man. The very idea ate him up inside.

 

“I thought I’d find you here,” Rafael said, coming up beside him. “Couldn’t resist running after her, could you?”

 

Diego flicked some ash. “What do you want?”

 

“Was Miss Seton all right?”

 

“She was nervous about meeting her grandfather, that is all.”

 

“She should be. He’s a powerful man used to getting what he wants. And if I am to understand the situation correctly, he wants an heir.”

 

Ignoring the chill that chased down his spine, Diego dropped the cigarillo and ground it out with his boot. “I know the
marqués,
too, and I know his reputation for ruthlessness. But this is the granddaughter who was stolen from him. He will not force her into anything.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“I am sure.”

 

But he was not sure at all. He was not sure of anything anymore.

 

Except for one thing: he could no longer just take his property and leave town. Perhaps he was being overcautious, and almost certainly, he was a fool to prolong his torment.

 

But he did not care. He would stay around as long as he must to be certain that Lucy was all right. Even if it tortured him to do so.

 

 

 

ďťż

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-three

 

 

 

 

Dear Cousin,

 

Though Lucy’s fate still weighs heavily on my mind, I have a new concern. Mr. Pritchard is actively seeking a tenant for Rockhurst, and some of his choices would make inappropriate neighbors for a girls’ school. Yesterday, a gentleman who wishes to convert it into a cricket ground surveyed Rockhurst. Today, Mr. Pritchard took around a man who runs a prison. Has the man no conscience? Does he not care what this will do to us?

 

Your concerned relation,

 

Charlotte

 

 

A
lthough Rafael’s ship weighed anchor in the pristine waters of Algeciras Bay the next morning, it took several hours for the passengers to be cleared for entry into Spain. While Diego arranged for a message to be sent to Lucy’s grandfather announcing their arrival, Lucy spent the time gazing over vistas that took her breath away.

 

On one end of the bay lay the city of Algeciras, its whitewashed buildings glistening in the brilliant May sun. An impressive sweep of shore followed, dotted by villages with fishing boats crowded up to the docks. Next came a
larger town that Rafael informed her was San Roque, their destination, built on a hill with a backdrop of mountains. After San Roque came other small villages, then the border between Spain and the English city of Gibraltar. The mighty rock itself perched at the very tip of the isthmus. It dominated the landscape as powerfully as the massive Salisbury Crags dominated Edinburgh, her home.

 

Her home most recently, that was. Only after Papa had retired from the army had she even really had a home. The thought of how he must be worrying gnawed at her, but her worry was tempered with growing distrust. Could he have known the truth about her lineage from the start? And if so, how could he have kept it from her?

 

Unless he’d worried about this very thing—that she might run off to Spain to meet her relations without him. But he surely knew her better than that. Even now, unease squirmed in her belly at the thought of meeting her rich and powerful grandfather. The man might very well hold her future in his hands. Lord knew he held Diego’s, and after what Rafael had said, she wasn’t sure she even
wanted
to meet him.

 

Nor did her consternation dim after they left the ship. Her hands grew clammy as the carriage carrying her, Nettie, and Diego climbed the narrow cobblestoned streets. Diego explained that when the British and Dutch had conquered Gibraltar more than a hundred years before, most of the Spanish inhabitants had left to found San Roque a short distance away. Her grandfather’s grandfather had been one of them.

 

It was hard to believe that this alien, gorgeous place was her heritage, with its houses piled up on the hill like delicate sugar cubes adorned by ironwork and copious flowers
at every entrance and window. It was almost too much to take in. Even the sweet smell of jasmine and the drifting clacking of castańets coming from what looked like a dance hall overwhelmed her.

 

By the time they pulled up before a lavish mansion of Moorish architecture, she felt bludgeoned by unfamiliar colors, smells, and sounds. The Spain she’d known as a girl was the rough terrain of the interior, not this orgy of sensations.

 

And this impressive edifice, with its exquisite mosaics, marble pillars, and tiled roofs, was to be her home for a while? It seemed incomprehensible.

 

“Now ain’t that grand!” Nettie exclaimed as she gaped out the window. “That’s right near to being the finest house I ever did see.”