Wicked Whispers. Tina Donahue

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СКАЧАТЬ straightened even more than before. “For the same reasons you have yet to wed.”

      “Me? I was waiting to meet you. Now I have. Who are you waiting for?”

      She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “No one.” She dropped her hand. “Tell me, do you enjoy your days with no one telling you what to do or how to behave?”

      “You make my life sound as though I have no duties whatsoever. I have countless obligations to the estate, my servants, the peasants, and more. I hardly spend my time doing precisely what I want.”

      “I never said you did. However, if you wished to study a subject, who would stop you? If you wanted to travel to a foreign land, would you need to take a chaperone? If you wished to run through the fields at night, would anyone dare tell you not to?”

      “They might question my sanity for running through fields in the dark.”

      “You make light of this, but you know what I mean.”

      Enrique did. He held up his hands in surrender but did approach so they could speak softly, lest anyone was on the grounds below or inside the room with an ear to the door. “Does this concern your healing?”

      She turned away.

      “Sancha.” He hesitated, his hands hovering before he risked resting them on her upper arms.

      She tensed.

      He stroked her gently until she relaxed. “If you want to heal, you can do so with me and our children, keeping us in good health.”

      She pulled away. “Only if you allow me to do so.”

      “Why would I stop you? You saved Fernando. You were magnificent.”

      “What if I wanted to save others?”

      “My brothers, sister, and father? Your sisters?”

      “Anyone who needed my—”

      “No. Absolutely not. You know the Church targets women healers as witches. For you to expose yourself in such a way would put your freedom and life at risk.”

      “Both are mine to give, not yours. Unless you intend to tell the inquisitors what I do.”

      “You know I would never betray you. How dare you suggest otherwise.”

      Her frown hung on for a moment and then she slumped. “Forgive me. I never meant to wound you.”

      Of course, she hadn’t. He’d never had any doubt yet had spoken so foolishly, railing at her when she needed comfort. He opened his arms. “Sancha.”

      She regarded him longingly, but finally backed away on a quiet sigh. “I need to do what I must. You need to find a woman who can give her all to you. Adiós, Enrique.”

      “Sancha!”

      She flung open the doors, dashed through the room, and disappeared into the shadows.

      Certain he’d catch up, he tore after her, but when he reached the hall, all six passages were inexplicably empty.

      Chapter 2

      Sancha climbed the steps in the secret passage she’d found out about earlier, thanks to her sister. Isabella said she and Fernando played games where she’d run and hide with him chasing and trying to find her. Once he had…Sancha had stopped listening at that point, trying not to groan or laugh at how silly her sister and Fernando behaved.

      No different than her.

      She’d been a fool to have met with Enrique. Running had been her only recourse, taking her here. Blindly, she negotiated each step in the dark, hoping he wouldn’t hear her shoes tapping the stone, her rasping breaths.

      She groped the wall on both sides to steady herself. Her hand slid into a depression on the left, fingers hitting nothing suddenly, that part of the wall gone. Shocked, she snatched back her hand, twisted, and nearly lost her footing. Clinging to the other side, she inched up the steps. Upon reaching the landing, she looked over into blackness. No one had opened the hidden door below, letting the light from a candle or lamp spill inside.

      For the moment, she remained undetected and alone.

      Always alone.

      She slumped against the wall, its surface rough beneath her palms, the scent faintly stale.

      Without wanting to, she recalled Enrique’s clean fragrance. His freshly shaved cheeks had been smooth and hot beneath her fingers, breath sweet, mouth searching. His body hard and strong.

      No. She shouldn’t dwell on her memories of him and pushed them away.

      The images returned, swift and sure, tempting her beyond reason. His broad shoulders beneath his dark blue robe and doublet, his sinewy thighs and calves clad in hose of a black-and-white striped design. He’d towered over her, his height imposing but never dangerous.

      She’d been comfortable with him, wanting more of the man he was. Despite his obvious strength, he’d treated her with respect and gentleness, his male beauty impossible to resist. She’d longed to run her fingers through his thick, dark hair, the locks tumbling over his forehead and curling around his ears. His white forelock had mesmerized, begging for her touch, the same as his mouth.

      While they’d been together, she’d kept thinking about stroking his bottom lip, damp from their kiss. In the moonlight, his eyes had seemed quite pale in contrast to his dark brows and tawny complexion. He was a magnificent man whose heat and strength had undone her too easily.

      Even before agreeing to meet with him, she’d understood the folly of her actions, yet had persisted. Telling herself she would only speak with him, explain how his pursuit was hopeless and she’d never be his.

      She’d forgotten her firm speech the moment she’d seen him on the balcony, his smile promising wanton delights and protection against the ills of the world.

      She huddled closer to the wall, curling her fingers into fists, not caring how the gritty stone scraped her skin. The ache in her soul was far worse for desiring a man she would never have. Surrendering to Enrique would bring her carnal pleasure, an end to her terrible loneliness, and a lifetime of duty where she needed permission to indulge in whatever interested her. Tradition would reduce her to a childlike state again, where she’d have to wait for a man, a husband, Enrique, to make a decision on her life that met with his desires first, without considering her needs.

      Never.

      She beat her fists against the wall, frustration and sorrow battling within her. Resolve won. Refusing to weep, she brushed tears away and held her breath before she opened the door.

      The hall was empty and shadowed, the candles in this part of the castle, where the servants resided, spaced far apart. Recalling the route back to her chamber, she hurried down the corridor and jerked to a stop before she ran into a maid.

      The young girl jumped back, eyes rounded. “Forgive me for nearly harming you, Señorita Doña Lopéz de Lara.” She took Sancha in and gasped. “Your fingers.”

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