Page 26 of Devoted to the Spanish Duke
Maria winced as heat raced to her cheeks. “I am sorry. I must appear to be so ungrateful for all that you have done for me. I just don’t . . .”
She fought sudden tears as she stared at Lisandro’s offered hand. Her sensible self was forever at pains to remind her that she was supposed to mistrust him.
As she slipped her hand into his, Maria consoled herself with the thought that if Lisandro did indeed return her safely home, anything between them would come to naught. That whatever feelings he stirred within her wouldn’t matter. Their lives were set on different paths. She was supposed to become the wife of Juan Delgado Grandes.
But changes in circumstances might see your life alter in ways you didn’t expect.
She did her best to ignore her heart as it softly whispered.
Take a chance.
At times, dealing with Maria was like trying to handle a skittish horse. Just when he thought she was beginning to relax in his company, she would suddenly pull away. She still didn’t trust him, and that bothered Lisandro more than it should.
Anyone would think I was a monster.
He led her into the house. The downstairs rooms were either empty or had a few items of furniture covered by heavy Holland cloths. It was clear that no one lived in the house.
“Let’s see what we can find upstairs,” said Lisandro.
They wandered around on the first floor for a short time in the fading evening light, searching for candles and tapers. In a small sitting room, they came upon a hearth which had wood and kindling already set to be lit.
“Gracias a dios,” a relieved Lisandro sighed.
He located a tinderbox, and soon the warmth of a fire had taken the chilly edge off the room.
Gus popped his head around the door a short while later. “Excellent. Just what we need. I’ve stayed here a couple of times on my way to and from the coast, and always leave a fire ready for when I arrive late at night. There are also some beds made up in the rooms farther along the corridor.”
The idea of a comfy bed was full of promise—but Lisandro could not indulge. He had to keep watch tonight.
Thank heavens I managed to get a few hours of sleep in the coach this afternoon.
Gus settled into a chair close to the fire and gave Maria a cheery grin. “Hopefully this is your last night in England, Doña Maria. If we leave early enough in the morning, we should make it to Portsmouth in time for you to sail on the late evening tide.”
“Thank you. I am looking forward to going home,” she replied.
A short while later, Stephen joined them. He was followed by a middle-aged gentleman carrying a large basket. Lisandro’s stomach growled at the heady aroma of hot pie which filled the room.
And a jug of cider and some fresh bread. And cheese. Magnífico.
“This is Mister Granville. He looks after the house for me,” said Stephen.
Gus welcomed the visitor with open arms. “And you brought me your wife’s famous beef pies! Granville, you are a godsend.”
After setting the provisions out on a nearby low table, Granville handed Gus a small glass jar filled with a pale liquid. “Be honest,” he said.
All eyes were on the exchange. Stephen chuckled softly. “Here we go.”
Gus opened the jar, held his nose to it and took a deep breath. “Hmm. Good structure. Not too acidic. I note a hint of something new. Have you added a cherry or two in?”
Granville grinned. “Plums.”
The master smuggler lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. “Oh. That’s good. You are getting better at this.”
He offered the jar to Stephen, who held up his hands in refusal. “Absolutely not. The last time I tried any of Granville’s homemade brandy I spent a half day lolling about on the floor.”
Granville’s derisive snort had them all laughing. Lisandro could understand Stephen’s stance; a man had to be careful when it came to moonshine liquor. It could be deadly.
Maria rose from her chair by the fire and Granville took a quick step back. He clearly hadn’t registered her presence until now. A low, respectful bow was offered.
