The Flesh and the Devil (13 page)

         
Tristán shook his head, his gaze never leaving Juana's. 'I
doubt that she feigned. senor. My face finds no favour with the lady's dainty
taste.

         
Before she could retort, Juana heard the Duque's voice. He
had been looking from one to the other with a gradually deepening frown, as
though he felt himself excluded, and now burst out, 'It is not private while
F-Felipe is here, and I order him to stay! Felipe, do you hear me?' His voice
rose to a shout, and Tristán bowed impassively.

         
De Castaneda turned to Juana with outspread hands. 'There,
senorita! Your modesty does you credit, but you need not scruple to stay here!
The good Felipe will wait within earshot, and if you grow uneasy you have only
to call him and he will protect you, mmn?'

         
And who, Juana wondered, flinching from the lash of memory,
would protect her from the good Felipe? In a voice of ice she said aloud, 'I do
not want the surveillance of a manservant, Senor de Castaneda. You know as well
as I do that our code requires that I should have female company for such an
interview, and I will not forgo it.'

         
'Tut, tut!' De Castaneda's lips pursed in mock reproof.
'You presume upon my kindness, senorita. Be content, and remember that petty
rules are made for greater men to break — are they not, nephew?' He looked
towards the Duque, who was still staring avidly at Juana without hearing him,
and the silence grew painful before he continued. 'Bartolomé wishes only to be
closer acquainted with you before you plight your troth. Was not that what you
yourself wanted, when you were so hot to come to him?'

         
She gazed back at him wordlessly, the recollection of her
own eagerness like bile in the back of her throat, and saw a glint of pleasure
in his bright, narrowed eyes before he bowed. Then with a nod to his nephew he
went strutting back the way he had come, and she turned as the doors closed
behind him to find herself confronting the creature who was to be her husband.

         
His mouth was hanging open as he stared at her, and the
slight, spontaneous twitching of his hands made her want to avert her eyes. In
that moment she was ready to call for help, to seek protection even from the
man she loathed, but the Duque spoke before she could find her voice.

         
'Sen-senorita,' the words were jerky with excitement, 'My
uncle says I can marry you, if I des-desire it.'

         
She tried to free her hand, still held in his sweating
fist, but it was unavailing. But you need not, Your Grace,' she returned as
calmly as she could. 'If you do not like me, you need not marry me.'

         
'N-not? But my uncle promised!' Bartolomé scowled. 'It is
my birthday, and he said I should have a wife on my f-feast day. Why not have
you? I have paid your f-father money.'

         
Suddenly Juana wanted to laugh. Of course, all this Duque's
wealth would not suffice to buy him a bride of his own rank, so a proud father
had been found who would give anything to have his daughter a Duquesa. And a
settlement on top of the honour would quell any lingering doubts. . . .

         
She said unevenly, 'Your Grace could choose another wife
instead. ..‘

         
He shook his head vehemently, tugging at her arm to swing
her round like a doll. His grip was stronger than she would have thought
possible of the rigid shoulders and sticklike limbs.

         
‗No, for you are pretty. Pretty hair, pretty face..
..' His free hand came out to touch the curve of her breast with an idiot's
curiosity. 'Soft. . .

         
She jerked away from the caress with a little wordless
sound that hurt her throat, and the blue eyes regarded her craftily.

        
'I think I shall tell my uncle I will marry you. I am to wed
and get a son, and you are f-fertile enough.' The echo of his uncle's voice
sounded in the boast, but then his expression clouded. 'What is your name?'

         
'Juana.' He had forgotten it already, she realized.

         
'Juana.' The red lips moved in a slow smile. 'Juana,
Juana..Juana - now I say I con-consent to take you for my wife, and that means
I can kiss you!'

         
She froze. The touch of his hand was had enough; it was hot
and clammy and unconsciously cruel in the mindless strength of its grip, but
the thought of that fleshy mouth touching hers made her want to scream. She
felt herself grasped and pulled towards him as the flailing free hand landed on
her shoulder; then, as the sour reek of his breath engulfed her and a cry broke
from her lips, a level voice came from the other end of the long room.

         
'You are too hasty, Your Grace. Have you forgotten what I
taught you?'

         
The Duque's closed eyes flew open in surprise, and Juana
tore herself free. All at once it was more important to be free to face the
servant than to escape his master, but behind her she heard Bartolomé give a
delighted crow.

         
'Felipe! Look, I am going to marry her, j-just as Tio
Eugenio said!'

         
'Are you so?'

         
Tristán's great height seemed to dwarf his charge, his
broad shoulders and muscular legs making the other look more then ever like an
ungainly puppet by comparison; as he stepped forward the sun struck him,
turning his red hair to pure fire and throwing the scarred side of his face
into shadow. He was watching Juana with an odd blend of hostility and ironic,
amused alertness.

         
She must have given some sign of her distaste, because
Bartotome glanced sideways at her and giggled. 'The King keeps a dwarf, but I
k-keep a giant! Felipe makes people do what I tell them.'

         
No doubt of that, Juana thought, remembering the almost
vindictive strength in the long-fingered hands that were more like a scholar's
than a soldier's. She said quickly, quelling the sudden trembling that took
her, 'I wish to be taken back to my aunt, senor,' and turned towards the door.

         
'No, she must not go yet! S-stop her, Felipe!'

         
Tristán's arm barred Juana's way. The movement looked
casual, but beneath the dark sleeve she could feel tense muscle, as unyielding
as iron.

         
'By your leave, madam'-something in the uninflected voice
made her look up sharply-'it grieves me to disobey you, but my first duty is to
my master.'

         
The Duque chuckled close by, and she jerked away from
Tristán's touch as though it burned her, speaking with an edge of despair.
'What more would you have? If the Duque's choice is more, there is no more to
say.'

         
The expression in the green eyes was coldly curious as they
looker down at her, and when Tristán answered his words were so quiet that she
could barely hear him. 'Be wise in time. This masque is a small price to pay
for the Valenzuela fortune; surely you can dissemble a little in such a cause.'
Then, more loudly, 'His Grace bids you stay, madam.'

         
'What must I do? I have not been shown for the sale
before.' Juana's voice was shaking, and her eyes blazed. 'Ought I to walk about
to show my paces, or should I stand still while I am inspected?'

         
The Duque had moved nearer still and was fondling a fold of
her sleeve, compulsively, between finger and thumb, his breath moist on the
bare skin of her shoulder. Her words must have caught his wavering attention,
because he answered suddenly, 'S-still! A restless wench is more trouble than
she is worth, Felipe says.'

         
Juana looker up to deliver a stinging rebuke, only to meet
a full stare of such chilling impassivity that the words died on her lips.

         
Tristán said slowly and deliberately, 'Will Your Grace
employ me as proxy?'

         
The dull blue eyes held no understanding, but Bartolomé
nodded, obediently releasing Juana's hand. She took an instinctive pace back
and then halted, pride holding her motionless.

         
'Your uncle has chosen you a fair bride-' his even voice
was like an insult-'on who will show as fairly without these trappings-' his
fingertips barely brushed the black lace that covered her hair-'as she does
with them. Some women borrow their beauties.'

         
He was goading her deliberately. Juana thought; he waited
for her response to every barb. She set her teeth and was silent.

         
‗Your Grace must not look for strength or constancy,
but that matters not much . . . your great lady has scant need of either. If
she looks well and drops children regularly, no man should ask for more.'

         
The Duque made no response. He was breathing stertorously
through his mouth, agape as if at some public diversion, nodding now and again
at the words, but Tristán's gaze never wavered from Juana.

         
'You must be sure, too, that she has not lain with any
other before she comes to you,' the voice continued without emotion, 'for these
great farthingales can hide much; there have been women close to motherhood who
were passed upon their husbands for virgins, while others get themselves with
child and lay the brat to the charge of their richest suitor.'