Loving Lies. Tina Donahue
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tenderness defeated her. She wreathed her arms over his shoulders, resting her face against his neck.
“Were you harmed?” he asked.
She held him more tightly, wanting to forget what had happened. As her silence grew, he stroked her back. His strength and heat comforted her as nothing else ever had. She adored the feel of his hard chest and careful caress. She hated the reality of their situation but couldn’t change it or what he and every man most needed to know about a woman, especially a betrothed. Surely, the reason for what he’d asked.
“My virginity is not in question or at stake,” she said at last, telling the truth and another lie. Sancha’s purity mattered, not hers.
“Harm comes from many directions and in many ways.”
How true. A man could rape a woman without compromising her virginity. For him to consider her a victim of such horrors while still honoring and wanting her convinced Isabella of his integrity and made her even more ashamed of the lies she’d yet to tell. After taking a ragged breath, she shook her head. “I cannot speak of this further.”
“Why?”
“There’s naught I could say to make you understand.”
“Understand what?”
“You know nothing about me,” she cried. “You have no idea who I am.”
“Who you are?” Again, he eased back to see her face. “Besides my betrothed? The woman I swore to protect with my life?”
He’d done so already. He could have died in the market. Although that danger had passed, he had another to face. If he discovered where Sancha was hiding and made his rightful claim on her, Don Rodrigo wouldn’t allow him to live long enough to produce an heir. In the absence of any sons, Spain’s law of primogeniture had given her father’s entire estate to first-born Sancha. Once she birthed a son, the estate would belong to the child, with each new son next in line for the claim. Don Rodrigo would hardly risk a scenario where he had to keep slaying those who kept him from the wealth. He would kill Fernando first, as surely as he’d murdered her parents, with Fernando’s death being his easiest solution.
This had gone too far. At the very least, she had to warn him of the peril he faced. “I must tell you something.”
He nodded. “Go on.”
She wanted to but suddenly couldn’t, having no idea how to explain Don Rodrigo’s crimes, from her abduction to her parents’ deaths, so he could take over the estate. She had no solid proof of any of her suspicions. Her uncle was far too cunning to have left a trace of what he’d done. Besides, Fernando was a warrior. No threat would cow him. Why hadn’t she considered his courage before she’d spoken? He’d probably race to the castle to oust Don Rodrigo, and once there he’d learn she wasn’t his betrothed. Surely, he’d conclude if she lied on matters of their relationship to each other, she must have also lied about her uncle’s murderous deeds. Don Rodrigo would have his chance to charm Fernando, as he had so many others, and finish him off.
As she troubled over the awful scenario, Fernando hugged her gently. “Go on.”
She sighed. “I cannot.”
“You must.”
She shook her head. The only way to protect him from Don Rodrigo was to keep him from going to her papá’s castle. It would also stop his claim on Sancha. Although Isabella had no idea how she could bring about such an outcome, she had to try.
She withdrew her arms and sidled away until she was past the tree. He followed. She frowned. “Why must we go to my papá’s castle? How could you even want to wed me?”
“You belong to me. Your ordeal will never change it.”
“Why would you want to wed someone with my temperament? You said I was disagreeable.”
“You are.” He edged closer. “So am I at times, though at the moment I would far prefer to be in your arms giving and receiving pleasure.”
She wanted the same but took another step back. Again, he followed. She sighed. “You said you were informed of my dilemma and came to rescue me. Who told you I was abducted and would be sold?”
“What does it matter?”
She needed to be certain Don Rodrigo hadn’t requested her rescue because he’d learned his agents had abducted her, not Sancha. The last she’d seen of her sister was when Sancha headed for the protection of a neighboring estate. “I want to reward the person upon my return. You would do the same, no?”
Fernando studied her. “I would. How honorable of you to think of others rather than yourself.”
Her face warmed at a compliment she hardly deserved.
He smiled. “My eldest brother, Enrique, learned of the matter through his servants, who were informed of it by your father’s servants.” Fernando rubbed the pad of his thumb over his jaw. “It would seem the servants know far more than Spain’s most accomplished spies.” He dropped his hand. “In any event, you need not concern yourself with the matter. You have my protection. All is well.”
He slid his hand beneath her robe and cupped her breast.
Isabella’s head lolled on her shoulders at his bold caress, his thumb flicking over her tightened nipple, a surge of pleasure whisking through her. She bit back a pleasured moan and forced herself to pull away.
He sighed noisily.
Ignoring his obvious frustration, she considered what he’d said. If her papá’s servants told his brother’s servants of the abduction, yet made no mention of her uncle, it would seem Don Rodrigo had fallen for her ruse and his part in the crime was unknown. It would also appear that in her and Sancha’s absence he’d take full advantage of their papá’s estate, though his pleasure would be brief. Isabella was determined to bring him down. She merely needed the means.
“How you frown,” Fernando said. “Are your thoughts so troubling or do you find me troubling?”
She’d been looking past him. Now she met him eye for eye. “How were you able to breathe fire?” Perhaps she might do the same to terrorize Don Rodrigo into confessing. “How could you juggle hot coals without burning your hands?”
“You do find me troubling.”
“What? Wait.” He’d again cupped her breast. She stepped away.
He followed.
“Fernando, how were you able to breathe fire?”
“The fire is a trick, nothing more, and hardly worth discussing.”
“How do you manage such a trick?”
“Enough. You ask too many questions.”
“None have been fully answered.”
“Once we bathe, I might consider doing so.” He cuffed her wrist.
Isabella yanked her arm away. “I refuse to bathe with you, Señor Don Fernando.”
He tilted his face to the sky and inhaled deeply. Composed, he eyed her. “You address me as if we were strangers and refuse to bathe with me despite our betrothal.”
Isabella’s cheeks burned. She nodded.
He advanced until she had to retreat or have him run over her. “I expect you to obey me and to address me as Fernando, understand?” Not waiting for her answer, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the stream.
Her stomach churned. She had no idea how she could defy him when he ordered her to disrobe or stop him if he decided to take her. She stole a glance at him. He was already looking at her.
Her pulse jumped. She turned away.
Fernando muttered something beneath his breath, fell silent for several moments then hummed a tune.
She