Wicked Whispers (23 page)

Hours passed without an answer. She couldn’t eat, study, or sleep, and spent an endless night in their bed. The sheets were too cool without him, the space too large. Every noise made her jump, not out of fear but her hope he’d returned to tell her all had gone well and they could move on with their lives.

Good sense told her he hadn’t been gone long enough to have come back.

The following day, she ate eggs, bread, and cheese at Hortensia’s urging. Although Sancha had ample nourishment, her mind suffered, her experiments and study going nowhere since she couldn’t concentrate on anything for long. At last, she gave up and took Rosa outside, hoping play with the pup might relax her enough so she could think clearly again.

The galgo was initially timid at having so much to explore, though she soon bounded across the grass, sniffed flowers, and ran away from bees that buzzed near. Sancha threw numerous twigs for her to retrieve. Rosa ran to each, sniffed the wood then returned without a one.

Reclined on a blanket, Sancha fed the pup orange slices, boiled eggs, olives, and plenty of water, then ate her cheese, bread, and grapes, finishing with sweet wine.

The sun was heavier than before, while she was sluggish from food and lack of sleep. With her tension finally drained away, she cuddled next to Rosa and encircled the pup with her arm, content to have them nap.

* * * *

Something snapped. Sancha stirred, picturing Rosa chewing a twig, curious about its flavor.

A quick look told her the pup lay nearby, still asleep.

Another twig snapped. She wasn’t alone.

On her feet hurriedly, she turned so fast she nearly lost her balance. One of Enrique’s men, a short fellow with more fat on him than muscle, took a quick step back as if she’d alarmed him or he didn’t want to startle her further.

“What is it?” She immediately thought of Enrique, fearing something untoward had happened. “Where is my husband?”

“With his men, señora. He left yesterday.”

“You have word of him?” She advanced. “Something has happened?”

“No.” He kept backing away. “A retinue waits at the gate requesting entrance.”

Her pulse jumped. She knew of no one who would come here with servants, unless it was Isabella.

Sancha’s hope surged until she considered the unlikelihood of her sister travelling. Fernando would advise against any unnecessary trip this early in her condition, the most likely time for a woman to lose an infant.

Rupert wouldn’t have come either. He would have sent a missive to tell her if someone needed healing, which left no one except inquisitors. Did they travel with attendants?

She was afraid to know but had no other choice except to inquire. “Whose retinue?”

“Forgive me, I have no idea. The woman refused to say. She gave me this for you to read.” He extended a missive.

Sancha turned from him, her hands shaking so badly she could barely lift the seal she didn’t recognize. One from a woman. Wait.

She read the signature again. Luscinda.

Dizzy with apprehension, Sancha had to lock her knees to keep standing. Never had she needed Enrique as much as she did now, longing for his strong arms and assurances even though she was grateful he wasn’t here. At least with him away, he wouldn’t come to harm.

Bracing herself, she read the missive.

Dear Sancha, or should I say Señora de Zayas!

What a surprise you gave us by wedding Enrique. None of our friends or acquaintances suspected what you were up to. Few could believe, given your somber ways. We thought news of your marriage was a trick to make everyone laugh.

Isabella has assured us your and Enrique’s union is one made in paradise.

How wonderful for you.

I offer you my heartiest good wishes on your sudden good fortune, and beg you to invite me inside your new home so we may visit.

As you offered none of us a chance to help you celebrate, I do hope you and I can do so now.

Señorita Doña Luscinda

Sancha read the note twice more, clenching her jaw harder each time. What she was up to? Sudden good fortune? As though she’d threatened Enrique into marriage with him begging for his freedom.

The loathsome woman still wanted him despite his wedded state. What did Luscinda mean to do, murder Sancha in her own home?

She crushed the missive, ready to toss the vile thing into the pond and tell the guard to run the woman off the estate, but didn’t. If she were to refuse Luscinda entrance, the wretch might claim Sancha had denied the visit because she wanted to continue her celebration with the Devil.

After smoothing the missive, she tucked the note in her sleeve. “Please escort the señorita to the castle entrance. I shall meet her there.”

“Sí, señora.”

Sancha brought Rosa inside and gave her to Hortensia. “Can you watch the pup for me?”

“Of course.” The older woman regarded her closely. “Has something happened?”

“I have a guest.”

“Oh. Would you like me to tell cook to prepare something special for—”

“No. The guest will not be staying. Wait. Perhaps she will.” If she threw Luscinda out without food or drink, the next rumors might be that no meal was safe in the de Zayas castle, all tainted by spells and witchcraft. “Have her prepare our best.”

“Sí, señora.”

She smoothed her gown and hair, pulling a leaf from her tresses. Her shoulders sagged at how she must look, not that her taking time to bathe and put on fresh clothing would have changed Luscinda’s mind. She already thought every woman was ugly compared to her.

Sancha tramped to the entrance, ordering herself to remain calm and dignified. Her throat tightened and her stomach rolled.

Luscinda’s carriage pulled up, drawn by the finest horses, constructed of the best materials, with four footmen in immaculate livery. The tallest man jumped off his platform and opened the door.

Luscinda exited like a queen, a jeweled fan in one hand. Her dark rose gown shimmered in the sunlight, its tint matching the caul she wore. She raised her face to take in the castle’s height, which exposed her long throat. The neckline of her gown was indecently low, the same as the one she’d worn to Isabella and Fernando’s celebration. Her beauty undeniable.

She regarded the breathtaking grounds to the exclusion of everything else, staring especially at the lake and the sheer vastness of the land.

A flash of what appeared to be jealousy, or hatred, crossed her face before she turned to Sancha and blinked. “It is you. I thought…” She smiled sheepishly. “Forgive me. Dressed as you are, I thought you were one of the servants. How foolish of me to think so when you have never bothered with anything pretty. How good it is to see you. I was afraid you might turn me away.”

She threw her arms around Sancha as one would a dear friend, rather than an acquaintance she’d just dismissed as plain and unworthy.

Sancha bared her teeth but patted Luscinda’s back gently instead of kicking her for those insulting words. If Enrique had been here, he might have tossed the woman over the hill, smiling as she rolled to the lake.

“Are we to stay out here?” Luscinda shielded her face with her fan. “I fear the sun will damage my complexion. Being unwed, I must take care with my appearance. You, of course, have no need for concern as you now have Enrique. Is he inside? Does he know I come to visit?”

If he had, she would never have made it past the gate. Not wanting to discuss him in front of his servants, Sancha gestured to the castle. “We can speak inside.”

The middle-aged servant opened the imposing door that was taller than two men standing on each other’s shoulders, the carved wood depicting Moorish designs.

Luscinda regarded the grandeur longingly.

Sancha preferred her and Enrique’s bedchamber, her study, and the pond, in that order.

Once they were inside and the servant had closed the door, she faced the woman. “Enrique is away on business.”

Luscinda nodded absently and regarded the grand staircase, wide enough for twelve men to stand shoulder-to-shoulder without crowding each other. Silver candleholders stood on the engraved cabinet and tables. There were more holders secured to the stone walls.

Light poured through arched windows, sun flooding the area, turning the stone a dazzling white.

Luscinda looked over. “What business?”

Sancha froze, her mind racing to Enrique’s visit to the villages, him helping her heal. A pulse ticked hard in her throat. She warned herself to calm down and think, not react. The woman was a menace, but couldn’t read minds, and surely knew nothing of Enrique’s actions. “I have no idea. I never involve myself in my husband’s affairs.”

Luscinda closed her fan and tapped the side gently against her cheek. “I marvel at a man who can leave his bride so quickly after wedding her. One would think passion could never allow such a thing. Oh well.” She shrugged and smiled. “Enrique’s home is more than I imagined. You must give me a tour.”

She wanted her out of here yet feared any resistance to her request. Who knew what she would say or do. “Of course. Would you like something to eat and drink before we begin?”

“Food can wait. I long to see all you have.”

Holding back a sigh, Sancha escorted her to the chapel first. Earlier, she’d lit every candle, praying for Enrique’s safe return.

Luscinda stared at the flickering flames as Dominico had. “How fervently you pray. Or would Enrique be the one?”

“The dining area is this way.” She showed her the grand room. Again, Luscinda’s eyes brightened.

Once in the hall, Sancha passed Enrique’s study.

Luscinda stopped and touched the metal handle. “What do you have in here?”

“Enrique’s work on his holdings.” She eased Luscinda’s hand from the handle. “No one goes in there except my husband.”

“Does he keep secrets from you? Do you keep them from him?”

“What are you saying?” She glared. “You come into my home to offend me? To accuse my husband and me of lying to each other?”

Luscinda rested her hand on her throat, her smile wilting. “Never to each other. I was merely playing with you. How serious you are.” She tapped Sancha’s hand with her fan. “You need to relax.”

She stopped clenching her jaw, though only so she could speak. “Would you care to see the grounds?”

“No.”

“The kitchen?”

Luscinda laughed. “I have never entered one in my entire life and have no intention of doing so now. Take me to the upper floors. I saw those lovely arched windows on the ride up the hill and long to see sun pouring into the rooms.”

“Those are private chambers.”

“I have no need to see Enrique’s bedchamber or yours.”

“We share the same one.”

“Of course you do. How silly of me to believe otherwise. I was referring to the chambers you reserve for your guests.”

Had she planned to stay the night? Appalled, Sancha wanted to refuse but wasn’t certain she should. “Very well.”

Despite Luscinda’s insistence on touring the rooms, she took a brief look at each, leaving so quickly Sancha had to keep catching up with her. At last, she stopped at the door to Sancha and Enrique’s bedchamber. “Is this where your husband sleeps?”

“Where we both do.”

“Of course.” She pointed her fan at the stairway across the hall, leading to the third level, the study room. “Where do the steps lead?”

Sancha grabbed Luscinda’s arm to keep her from climbing the stairs. “We use the area for storage. Items from Enrique’s boyhood, furnishings his family has had for generations but we no longer use.”

“I adore old objects. Some of them can be quite beautiful. Show them to me. We may find a treasure.”

She tightened her grip. “The items belong to Enrique, not me. I have no say in who sees them. Besides, the area is quite dusty. You would ruin your beautiful gown.”

“If you hold my arm any harder, you will surely rip my sleeve.”

Sancha released her. “We should go to the dining hall. I asked Enrique’s cook to prepare something special in honor of your visit.”

“No need.” Luscinda swept past her. Upon reaching the grand stairway, she looked over. “I have others to see in this area. I shall take my leave of you now.”

Within minutes, she’d left as mysteriously as she had arrived.

The journey began with failure.

As Enrique had promised Sancha, he’d spoken to Guillermo’s father. The peasant was a worn man with bent shoulders, showing a lifetime of hard labor, his hands still reddened from the fire that had taken his nephew’s life.

“I saw to Vincente’s face as much as I could,” he’d told Enrique. “He was a good man, a hard worker who helped me greatly. He was in such pain because of the burns. During the raid, I shouted at him not to enter the hut again. The fire was too bad. He wanted to save what little we had and he…”

Enrique had squeezed the man’s shoulder. Although Sancha had done what she could, she couldn’t give Vincente the will to live in horrible pain with a disfigured face. Days after she’d left, the young man had ended his misery.

His uncle and Enrique had stood at Vincente’s grave, new vegetation already growing over the dirt, life continuing. Being a practical man, Enrique accepted that one had to let loved ones go at times. No matter how skilled Sancha’s healing was, some people deserved the relief death could bring, their terrible struggles over.

A sentiment he should have voiced to Vincente’s uncle but couldn’t. What words had ever eased the pain of those who’d lost a family member? The thought of ever losing Sancha wasn’t something he could endure.

After making certain the man and the other peasants had what they needed, Enrique and his men had headed to the next community.

Upon arrival, he spoke with the village elders who greeted his group cordially, offering simple food and drink for the men, grain for their horses. Within a short time, Enrique and his guards had returned to the road.

They’d spent the night at a third village. In addition to the horses needing rest, a thick cloud cover hid the moon, casting everything into an inky blackness. They could have used torches to continue their journey, if they hadn’t minded the light making their trip obvious to thieves. He didn’t want a battle to keep him from the last village or Sancha longer than necessary. To return to his wife injured would be a cruel outcome for her good deeds.