Passionate Pursuit (17 page)

Each time he disappeared from view, her heart cramped.

Wherever she dusted, he was soon there with other servants, ordering them to fix something, directing them to lug cabinets from one end of the room to the other, showing them where a new wall hanging should go. Not once did he look at her.

Whenever she was outside beating rugs, he showed up, telling his men where he wanted new flowers or bushes, what trees they had to prune.

She didn’t understand the change in him.

During their intimate moments, he’d confessed how he hated being a landowner, preferring to fight every Moor in Granada instead. Apparently, he’d gotten over his distaste for these tasks as he now spoke endlessly with the workers about what he required. Not once did he seem to notice she was also outside, even though she beat every rug with all her might. The whapping sounds were loud enough to scare several birds and caused the men to glance her way.

Tomás seemed immune to the noise or determined to pretend she didn’t exist.

More than once, she’d wanted to throw the carpet beater at him and confess her love, but kept her tongue and maintained an outward calm. The distance he kept between them was for the best even if she longed for a brief glance.

He never gave her one.

She began to yearn for time away to avoid seeing him.

On the afternoon before her day off, he was unexpectedly gone again, not showing up in the rooms she cleaned. Perhaps he’d tired of having the servants move cabinets and hang tapestries, or they’d run out of things to fix. She was dusting a windowsill when footfalls sounded in the hall. Beatriz didn’t pay much attention until the steps neared and stopped.

She looked over.

Tomás stood in the hall, alone, and actually looked at her. Gone was the longing and passion she’d seen in times past. He regarded her with indifference, the way a noble lord would with any servant.

Her pulse stopped racing, melancholy setting in. “Patrón.”

He strode to her like the noble he was, his red doublet and robe complementing his beautiful hair. His cheeks, chin, and upper lip were bristly, his beard returning as it always did during the afternoon. Gray hose hugged his muscular calves and thighs to the point Beatriz had to keep from staring, longing for his nudity pressed against hers, bodies and mouths joined, their scents mingling.

“I have a task that needs doing. I thought of you.”

She hid her surprise, unable to imagine what task could have made him consider her or fail to go through Señora Cisneros. Unless… Maybe he needed a missive penned or wanted her to scour his agriculture books, pulling out needed portions to tell him the best time to prune trees and plant flowers.

She looked at him expectantly.

He glanced at the hall.

Her pulse quickened. Whatever he intended to say must be a secret he wanted kept between them. Perhaps he would ask her to write the epic poem at last. An innocent project, allowing them to share time as chaste friends…the only situation she could hope for at this point.

With no one in the hall listening to what went on in here, he faced her. “The harem needs tending. Rather than have Señora Cisneros clean again, I thought you might like to earn what I paid her, so you can use the funds for your mamá. You should be able to do a fine job, knowing the place as well as you do. Although I prefer the task done today, the hour is late. You can start tomorrow, early morning. Wait.” He frowned. “Your day off, I forgot. Surely, you have plans.”

Her cheeks stung at how casually he’d said she knew the harem. Of course, she did. She’d offered him her virginity there and he’d gladly accepted, treating her with passion and tenderness. A far cry from now.

When she didn’t comment, he looked past her. “If you plan to visit a village, I can let you use a mare or my carriage so you actually get to your destination.”

She gritted her teeth.

“I can also have Cook pack food for you. Along with a knife or dagger for protection. I may be too busy to assist you as I did the last time.”

Beatriz pulled back her shoulders. “I have no plans. I can clean your harem.”

His expression darkened.

She wasn’t about to take back what she’d said. The harem was his, not theirs. Not any longer.

“Excellent. Make certain the pools are dry and the silk is kept away from the sun.”

She knew how to protect fine fabrics. Her service here had also taught her how to clean and tend to other things. “Would you care to make a list for me, specifying your concerns?”

“A list? Wait. You can read.”

She wanted to slap him for pretending he’d forgotten. Holding back, she dug her nails into her palms.

“I can start on the list immediately.” He crossed the chamber and stopped at the doorway. “Are you sure you want to give up your day?”

“The villages will still be there next week and the next.”

He returned to her. For a moment, heat flared in his eyes, along with yearning she’d recalled.

He hid both quickly. “The items you need, a bucket, carpet beater, dust cloths, and more, will be in the chamber when you arrive tomorrow. The list will be in my top desk drawer within the hour. Garbine cleans my study at the same time you used to. If you want to avoid any questions or gossip, make certain not to run into her.”

He left.

* * * *

Tomás tensed with such need he could scarcely draw a breath. He couldn’t recall his shoulders ever hurting more. His fists ached from clenching them.

In his determination to wear Beatriz down, he was killing himself.

He sank into the chair in his study, head in his hands.

The only thing he’d accomplished thus far was to stop her from seeking work at a village and leaving here. Of course, the communities would still be there in the following weeks, months, and years. He wasn’t certain he could think of enough tasks for her to do to keep her away from them and close to him.

Pity he wasn’t a sultan. If she’d been his concubine, he would have stripped her bare, shackled her to a bed, and mounted her without pause. She’d never get away from him. He’d own her mouth, breasts, and sheath, but not her willingness or her heart.

He ground his fists into his eyes.

Without her ready consent and love, physical intimacy meant nothing. In the past, he’d used other women for relief the same as they’d done with him. A pleasant affair, but those acts had never come close to the moments he and Beatriz had known.

“Why do you fight me?” He pushed his fingers through his hair. “What are you so afraid of?”

She claimed to want freedom and an end to everything they’d been, yet when he complied, treating her as he would any other servant, Beatriz seemed heartsore. She kept sneaking glances at him when he failed to acknowledge her presence. Her expression was always forlorn when she wasn’t aware he was nearby, watching. She’d beat the poor rugs ruthlessly, in what he guessed was an effort to get his attention. If she kept that up, she’d hurt herself or put a hole in the fabrics.

He wanted to talk to her again, man to woman, lover to loved, but sensed she’d only pull away. The only option he could see was to be around her frequently, tempting her until she couldn’t refuse what they both wanted, and she became a part of his life once more.

* * * *

The following morning, Beatriz slipped Tomás’s list in her sleeve and joined the other servants in the kitchen for breakfast. Her last excursion away from the castle had taught her not to leave without a full belly. Apparently, she should have also taken a knife for protection.

He must have considered her a hopeless fool, not even knowing how to do her work. His list was endless, detailing everything as one would for an imbecile too stupid to figure out how to fold silk, beat mattresses, empty water.

The tasks wouldn’t be easy on her clothes. Her mended sleeve might rip again today. However, she hadn’t wanted to wear livery and have the other servants asking why she was working on her day off or where the task might be.

Yolanda finished her milk, leaving a white mustache on her upper lip. “Have any plans for today?”

Beatriz smiled. “The workers planted new flowers. I may walk among them or explore the grounds.”

Although her comment seemed casual, she’d chosen her words carefully. If anyone spied her crossing the lawn to the harem, that person wouldn’t question her movements.

Yolanda grabbed three figs and an orange. “I must be off. Enjoy your day.”

“You too.”

The other servants chatted amongst themselves, not deliberately excluding Beatriz, but they’d never grown close to her, either. They seemed to know she was different than they were. Not as open, lying constantly about her past, steering converse back to them rather than having to share anything regarding herself.

Her actions made for a lonely existence, except for dear Yolanda. However, Beatriz saw no other choice.

Once she’d filled her belly, she asked Cook’s permission to take enough food for her next meal. Gaining the woman’s approval, Beatriz wrapped three oranges, several slices of bread and pork, a mound of olives, and a large cheese wedge.

Cook eyed the feast. “You get so hungry simply walking around?”

Hauling water from the pools would probably make her ravenous in no time. “This should be all I need until tomorrow morning.”

“Off with you then.”

The sun hadn’t yet dried the grass. Dew dampened Beatriz’s skirt. On a whim, she slipped off her shoes and stockings and held them to her chest with the fare she’d packed. The lawn was deliciously cool beneath her toes.

She wanted to linger but couldn’t, glancing over her shoulder repeatedly. To her relief, no one was behind her or in front. For the most part, the sky was clear, though there were a few smeared clouds in the distance. Birds flew past the sun, the light turning their bodies to dark outlines.

In times past, the Moor’s women might have seen sights like this, if they ever ventured farther than the harem and courtyard. How sad if they hadn’t. They would have known luxury but had never actually lived, imprisoned for carnal use, having to share a man they might have come to love.

Beatriz couldn’t have stomached being here if Tomás wooed and claimed another woman. She should have gone to the village today, rather than dragging out her departure. If she delayed too long, she’d eventually be standing in line with the other servants, waiting to greet his new wife, trying not to wince at the smile he gave the woman, the love he showed.

She reached the hidden door, heart aching at what she could have had with him but lost because of her papá. Even without her father being at the castle, he’d killed her future so easily.

She retraced her steps from the other visits she’d made and stood in the chamber, picturing Tomás taking her here on their wedding night, them using this place not for its grandeur, but as a sanctuary against the outside world. Here, they could be themselves, him hating anything to do with running an estate, her unafraid to proclaim her love.

Even though she was no more than his servant now, she’d want him until her dying breath.

The bucket, carpet beater, and other tools lay to the side. She read his list, another memento she meant to keep, and saw to the silk first. She beat the mattresses as well as those she’d tended in the castle, getting through only half before she stopped, tired and sweaty. Heated air and sun poured into the room. Hours gone already.

She slumped. At this rate, she wouldn’t finish until tomorrow morning.

Her stomach growled repeatedly. Ignoring her fare, she kept to her task, finishing the other mattresses by the time the sun had passed the highest point in the sky and had started its descent.

Unable to continue without food and rest, she sat with her legs in the stone pool, eating her meal, pushing the floating leaves aside with her feet. If Tomás had been here, they might have made this a game, seeing who could push the leaves fastest to the far end. They’d battle in earnest, laugh themselves silly no matter who had won, then embrace, kiss, and make love.

She covered her eyes, fighting tears. Her throat was so tight she could barely swallow the cheese. A sob caught in her throat. She waved her hands in front of her face, pushing sadness away. There was too much work for her to sit here and weep about losing him.

Sniffing, she put her remaining food to the side. She pushed up her sleeves, filled a bucket to drain the pools, and dumped the water in the courtyard as Tomás’s instructions had ordered. After her tenth trip, her arms and back ached. She eyed the mattresses longingly, wanting a brief nap, but continued.

By the time she’d finished with the pools, the sun cast long shadows. Slumped against a column, she pushed her sleeves down and froze, not feeling her orange peel.

She checked inside her sleeve past her elbow but couldn’t find the rind she’d carried for weeks as a keepsake.

She slipped her hand between the silk sheets, lugged the mattresses away from each other, and stood in the stone pools to check the damp corners.

The rind was inexplicably gone.

She’d lost everything and now she didn’t even have the memento to comfort her when Tomás would be nothing more than a wonderful memory, wed to another.

She checked the mattresses and silk a second time, then ran into chambers she’d never been in.

Hands fisted, she cried, “Where are you?”

Squatting, she searched crevices in the latticework screens, knowing how foolish she was behaving but couldn’t stop. She’d asked for so little, wanting only to keep a memory of the most wondrous day she’d ever known.

No matter where she looked, the orange peel remained elusive.

At last, she tore out to the courtyard where she’d dumped the water. Puddles covered the ground, the sun so low rays no longer shone within the space. On her knees, she searched bushes, flowers, grass, and mud.

* * * *

Tomás strode across the grounds, unable to wait any longer for Beatriz’s return. She should have come back well before now. The sun had nearly set.

He’d left the oil lamp in the harem, but no means for her to light the thing. He’d only used the lamp on the day they’d first coupled to strike a sensual mood, giving her a taste of a Moor’s territory. When the sun was up, the hall to the chambers was easy to navigate. In the darkness though… She couldn’t be working by moonlight.