Bound to Be a Bride (10 page)

“I am perfectly harmless, I assure you. Please have your men put away their weapons.”

Isabella’s father stared at him for a few seconds. “Very well. Everyone stand down.” He waved one hand to give the command, then refocused his attention on Javier. “It will only take my one bullet to kill you, after all.”

“Charming,” Javier muttered under his breath, imagining a lifetime of squabbles with his wife’s father.

“Speak up, man!” the duke yelled.

“I said ‘charming,’ sir”—Javier reached behind for Isabella’s other hand and pulled her around until she was standing proudly next to him—“because I wanted to introduce you to my charming wife, the Doña de la Mina.”

The perils of marrying into the most arrogant family in the history of the Spanish aristocracy were momentarily overcome by Javier’s adolescent thrill of rendering his father-in-law speechless.

After a few seconds of silent collective disbelief, all hell broke loose. The duke turned to Javier’s father. Javier’s mother lifted her veil, pointed an accusatory finger at the duke, and began bombarding him with a rapid volley of insults.

Javier took Isabella into his arms and whispered hotly, “So, where and when do I get what is coming to me?”

“As and when you wish, my lord,” Isabella replied with a coquettish flutter of her eyelashes. Javier kissed her. Hard. Isabella reached her arms around his neck and leaned her hips into his buckskins. She was bereft when he pulled away just as she was beginning to find a tentative rhythm with the tip of her tongue and that part of his lip—

“Sir! Stop that at once!”

Isabella’s father’s voice, and the pistol he was once again brandishing in Javier’s direction, forced her to realize she was—while standing on a crowded dock surrounded by armed men—making passionate love to her husband. Not that she cared a fig what her father thought, but she and Javier would certainly have had far fewer interruptions if they got back to the Rossio Inn posthaste.

Isabella gripped Javier’s upper arm to signal that she wished to speak. “Father, Javier de la Mina is well and truly my husband. It is what you wished. The priest at the Convent of Jesus can provide you with the paperwork. Everything is as it should be.”

“Nothing is as it should be!” he cried. “You are”—he looked at her blue dress, which had seemed the height of fashion compared to the peasant dress she had been wearing for the past five days and now looked like rags when she saw it through his eyes—“not fit to be seen—”

“Sir.” Javier’s voice brooked nothing. “You will apologize to my wife immediately.”

Javier’s mother smiled a tiny smile that included Isabella, nodded once, and put her black mantilla back in place. “Let us go, Francisco.” She touched her husband’s arm.

Señor de la Mina paused for a moment, then raised his voice so all the company could hear. “Yes. Let us all go.” Javier’s father gestured to his men, perhaps a dozen or so, then to the duke. “It is done. We have them. They are married. It behooves none of us to tarry here.”

Still awaiting the demanded apology, Javier stared at his father-in-law as if he might kill him.

“That’s enough, Javi,” Isabella whispered. “He does not like that you love me; he does not like that I am happy.”

Javier quit staring across the few yards and looked down into his bride’s eyes. He understood her words and wanted to kill her father anew. “Isabella—”

“No, Javi, listen to me,” she said quietly, but emphatically. “We must go back. Let Sebastián and Marco continue and we can follow in a few months.”

“But Isabella, your freedom…” He reached his hand up to her cheek.

“And yours, Javier.” She smiled and returned the gesture. “Together, we will be free. Mexico can wait.”

He leaned in and kissed her again, perhaps prolonging it longer when he heard the angry growl of the Duke of Feria.

Sebastián and Marco were waiting nearby.

“What do you plan to do?” Sebastián spoke first.

“We are going to return to Spain to settle matters with our parents,” Javier explained, “then meet up with you in Mexico, as planned.”

Sebastián looked out toward the west and watched as the setting sun chose that moment to dip below the edge of the horizon. “I would prefer to stay as well. I believe my place is with you.”

“I will continue on,” Marco said.

Javier was taken aback. Marco had always been in his shadow. Not that Javier had ever belittled him or thought of him that way, but of his two friends, Javier would not have considered Marco the adventurous one. Javier stared at the shorter man, trying to interpret his motivations. “Very well. You know all the details of the men who will meet you in Antigua, and arrange for your passage from there to Mexico. Correspond with me in the way we discussed.” He reached out his hand to shake and Marco took it, then pulled him into a hard, quick hug.

“Javier!” his father called.

“Very well. Very well. Let us be off.” Javier took his saddlebags and Isabella’s from Sebastián and the three of them watched as Marco leapt into the small boat that would take him out to the
Sappho
, where he would continue across the sea.

Javier announced that he and his wife would be staying at the Rossio Inn, and several other inns along the way, alone, on their private journey back to Badajoz.

“This is very unsatisfactory!” The Duke of Feria had never looked more discomfited.

Javier’s father intervened. “Leave them. We shall all meet up again in two weeks. We will have a proper celebration then.”

The duke continued to look ill used.

“I will pay,” Javier’s father added.

That seemed to assuage the duke somewhat. “Very well, then,” he finally conceded.

Javier thought he heard his mother grunt in a very unladylike manner.

“”Francisco de la Mina shook hands with his son’s new father-in-law and watched as the bitter man got into his carriage and his coachman led the tired horses back in the direction from whence they had just come.

Everyone else had dispersed, most likely in search of the nearest establishment with ale, to spend the princely sums the duke had given in the heat of his fury to put together a mob to find and destroy the young Javier de la Mina. Sebastián had joined the rabble of men after agreeing to meet up with Javier and Isabella in Badajoz.

They were nearly alone. Javier’s parents approached. His father spoke respectfully. “Will you please do me the honor of introducing me to your bride, Javi?”

Isabella felt an instant appreciation for this strong, peaceful man, so unlike her own impatient, demanding father.

Javier took the tips of Isabella’s hands in his and held her slightly in front of himself.

“Mother. Father. Please allow me to present Doña Isabella de Suárez de Figueroa y Córdoba
de
la
Mina
. My wife.”

Javier’s mother held out her hand for Isabella to take and for the new bride to show a sign of respect to her new mother. Isabella took it, curtsied slightly, and trembled when Javier’s mother grasped her hand very tightly. Isabella stood up and was completely confused when the tall, aristocratic, completely veiled woman pulled her into an unaccountably familiar hug. “I knew your mother,” she whispered.

Just as quickly, she set Isabella away from her.

Javier’s father reached out, took Isabella’s hand in his, and kissed her very lightly on the back of her gloved hand. “Welcome to the family, my child. I see you are very much like your mother, a turn of events about which we are all equally pleased, I suspect.”

Isabella covered her mouth and smiled behind her hand at the indirect insult to her father.

Javier put his hand around her waist and whispered, “You see, I am from a long line of people who flout convention.”

“We wish you both every blessing,” Señor de la Mina concluded. “We will see you in Badajoz in two weeks. Right, Javi?”

“Yes, Father.” Javier smiled and shook his father’s hand.

“And you will tell us how your marriage happened to be? How you came to find one another after all?”

“Yes, Father,” Javier repeated, a bit sheepish this time.

“Good. Then that is all settled,” his father said. “Now, I shall take your mother to her sister’s house and we shall sleep for two days. You were wise to choose Aveiro, Javi, but this has been far too many days in pursuit.”

“I am sorry for the inconvenience, Father. It couldn’t be helped.”

They hugged and parted.

A few moments passed with Javier’s hand around Isabella’s waist and the two of them standing patiently, as if some other calamity were about to strike. Night had fallen over the port and the lanterns and torches of the inns and brothels were alight.

“Are we really alone?” Isabella whispered.

They were in the midst of a dark and nefarious sea of humanity: sailors out to spend everything they’d earned, spies, gamblers, prostitutes.

“Yes,” Javier said. “Come with me.”

She laughed aloud as he pulled her back through the streets that led circuitously to the Rossio Inn. Within five minutes of arriving, Javier had secured a room for two nights and given the innkeeper an extra coin for his trouble.

When they climbed the three flights of stairs, Javier nearly hauling Isabella up to hurry her along, they were both panting and smiling as the innkeeper opened the door to the room at the end of the hall.

“Oh!” Isabella gasped. “It’s so beautiful.”

Javier thanked the man and sent him away, sliding the bolt home as soon as he shut the door. Isabella swung around at the sound of that heavy, sturdy lock barricading them in. She covered her lower stomach with her palms.

“Javier…” she whispered.

He had dropped their saddlebags on a low table near the door, and he was removing his coat as he walked slowly toward her.

She took a step back toward the window that had captured her imagination when she had first walked into the room. Unbeknownst to Isabella when they’d sold the horses earlier in the day, this part of the inn backed up directly to the grand canal that led away and back toward the port. The view was an exquisite mix of passing
barcos
moliceiros
and the rising moon.

“Isabella…”

“Are you going to… ravish me?”

“Absolutely.”

“What should I do?” Her voice was quivering, not because she was opposed to the promised ravishing, but because she disliked being at a disadvantage. She took another step backward. “But I’ve never done… anything… before.”

“I am certainly glad to hear it.” His blue jacket was off and tossed carelessly over the back of the single upholstered chair that had been set in front of the small empty fireplace. “I would have been very disappointed if you had.” He pulled the tails of his shirt out from where they’d been tucked at his waist for far too many hours, and pulled the entire shirt up over his face and off in one swift motion.

Isabella stared in fascinated fear. A half-naked man was walking toward her. Right. There.

“What is it, Isabella?”

“I… I…”

He was very close by then, taking her into his arms, his very naked arms. His skin was all around her. There was nowhere for her to look to avoid it.

“Open your eyes.”

She obeyed, and found courage when she saw his avid gaze. “I dislike my ignorance,” she said.

“Then let us remedy it immediately.”

He reached between them and began untying the front of her dress. A chill ran through her spine, so cold and fierce, she thought she might break.

“Just let it plow through you, my love… let the feelings… come…” As he loosened the ribbons at her breasts, he leaned down and kissed the tender skin that was exposed. “God, how I have longed for this flesh, Isabella…” He pulled the blue bombazine from her shoulders, and the retracted sleeves effectively bound her at the elbows. Her breasts were straining to get free of the corset.

“Everything feels too tight… and too warm…” Isabella stammered.

“Good.” Javier pulled her hands behind her back and held her wrists there. “I want you tight—” He kissed between her breasts, then licked the salty skin. “And I want you warm.” He reached his free hand under her dress and rested his palm against the heat at her center.

She whimpered softly. It all felt so deliciously good, but hot and forbidden. “I… feel like I should protest… but I don’t want to…”

He began stroking between her legs, through the fabric of her drawers. “You don’t want me to stop doing that, do you, Isabella?”

Even down to the way he said her name, with that sharp, hissing
s
and that long, silky
aah
, everything about the way he held her, physically or by a mere look, made her weak with wanting him.

“Please do not stop doing that—” She gasped anew when his insistent finger found the slit in the fabric and touched her raw, slick flesh. “Oh, Javier!” Her head was tilted back and her breasts were desperate for his attention.

He sensed she was craving more. “Speak.”

“Oh, I cannot. A man does not want to hear such things.”

He pulled his hands away abruptly, from her throbbing, eager center and from the grip he had been holding at her lower back, pinioning her wrists. “Because a woman does not want such things?” he taunted, resting his hands on his hips.

She blushed furiously. “You are cruel,” she whispered.

“No, my love.” He trailed his finger along her trembling lower lip. “Anyone who told you
that
was cruel. I am here to disprove those false notions.”

She kept her gaze lowered. “But, then, what if everything they told us—”

“Shhhh.” He was so tender when he chose to be. “Come here.” He led her away from the window and back toward the large bed. “I love your skin.” He touched her long neck, trailing down with a light touch. “I love your heart.” He kissed the rising flesh of her left breast. He finished removing the blue dress, leaving her in her shift, corset, and underclothes.

She stood before him, wanting to be naked against his nakedness, then afraid that it was wrong to wish for it.

“Oh, Javier.”

“What is it?” He was busying himself with undressing her. And because Isabella was used to being dressed and undressed by other people—by Sol, by the maids at the convent—she slipped into an almost-familiar feeling. At the end of the day, when her corset was being removed, she felt like the exhale was the exhale of every frustration of her existence, a release of both the physical and the spiritual challenges with which she was presented each day. He was encouraging her to tell him about the convent. What had it been like? What time did she rise? When did she eat? Was her bed comfortable? Were the sheets coarse? Did she like kneading bread?