A Bride for Valentin Page 4

  Suddenly, she could not hold back her anguish anymore. Her knees buckled and she collapsed to the ground.

  “Contessa!” Diego fell to his knees besides her. “Are you all right?”

  “No, senor! I am not all right. I am very far away from ‘all right’.”

  She cried, holding her face in her hands to obscure the desolate view. She should have never agreed to this. She should have gone to the convent as she’d wished to and let whatever happened, happen.

  “Please don’t, contessa.” Diego’s voice said from somewhere above her.

  “I should have stayed with Madre Superior,” she gasped out once her tears had subsided. Her eyes burned.

  “Madre Superior?”

  The horror in the man’s voice made her head lift up. Senor Aguado, having removed his hat when she fell to the floor, looked as if his whole body had been drained of blood.

  “You are a nun?”

  “No,” she corrected sadly. “But I was going to be. I was going to enter the orders on my birthday in two weeks.”

  “Two weeks?”

  “Si. My father had—I don’t need to go into that.” She inhaled sharply and then hiccupped. “Madre Superior had convinced me to not do so. She told me to marry Valentin. To hope for the best. How I wished I hadn’t taken her advice.”

  Dejected, Ysabel pulled her herself up to her feet and then straightened her shoulders. There was nothing for it now. Even if she were to write her brother and tell him of her circumstances, he would do nothing to help her. As far as he was concerned, his sister no longer existed.

  She was another man’s responsibility and problem.

  “Senor Aguado, you can show me my new home now.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jacinda’s Rest

  Two days later

  An inhuman snarl was the only warning Valentin received before two hands shoved his back and sent him sprawling to the floor.

  No sooner than he hit the floor than he rolled and leapt back up. Years of being a deck hand on ships had lent a lightness to his movements, giving him such agility.

  When he turned, he saw Diego’s furious face contorted into almost an ugly mask.

  Spanish curses and curses in other languages spewed out of his friend’s mouth.

  “Diego, what is it?” he asked.

  “You idiota! Why would you treat that woman in such a way?”

  His heart stopped for a moment and then sped on. His bride had arrived.

  “She is here?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” Diego said with raised eyebrow. “You should get down on your knees and beg Santo Dios for His forgiveness.”

  “Santo Dios has never done anything for me.” Not since He’d saw fit to take his beloved sister from his life. “And even if He did, what do I have to ask forgiveness for?”

  He’d never seen Diego like this. For most of his friend’s life, it had been one of ease. Diego had once told him he’d grown bored with his existence, unable to gain any enthusiasm for life.

  To see his friend shivering with emotion, it seemed incredible.

  “For what you are doing to your wife!”

  “Oh.” Valentin shrugged. “If Jacinda was alive—”

  “But she’s dead, Val. To treat this woman so shamefully is despicable.”

  He eyed his friend, seeing the flush of anger center on his cheeks like a girl’s blush. From the taut silence, he had an inkling that Diego had more to relate to him.

  “What is it?

  Diego’s nostrils flared. “She was going to be a nun.”

  Valentin froze, sensing all the blood drain out of his body. A nun?

  “You’re joking.”

  “No, Valentin. I am not. I had to sit by her side while she stared at the hideous hovel and listen to her desire to enter the holy orders. Well, your plan of vengeance destroyed that.”

  He couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. No wonder Diego was so furious at him.

  Swearing, he thrust his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t know.”

  “Now, you have cloistered her in that travesty of a structure you call a home. She left everything behind to be with you.”

  “Let’s not get carried away, Diego. She left everything behind, si. But she did it to protect her brother. Remember, blood is thicker than water.”

  “If that is the case, why did Atilio not refuse your offer to essentially sell his sister when you demanded her? You forget, Valentin, I have been there and have watched the interaction of brother and sister. Believe me, the conte holds little regard for her.”

  A prick of conscious pierced his heart. “What else did you find out?”

  “That the woman is kind, and strong, and very nurturing. She held up under everything until she saw that house.”

  “And what did you say?”

  Diego snorted. “What did you think I said? I kept to what you said. I fed her the little lie about your being supposedly poor and indebted to me.”

  “Good.”

  “Valentin, you cannot continue this charade. It’s not right.”

  He ignored the plea in Diego’s voice “What did she do?”

  “You mean after she got off the ground after she collapsed? I gave her tour of the house. She thanked me, in that correct way of hers. In the meantime, one of the maids have been placed to keep her company although the contessa think she is a nearby neighbor. I couldn’t leave her there alone.”

  “But she isn’t truly alone, is she? My men—”

  “Of course, they’re stationed there out of sight. Should a stray leaf blow by the home, they’ll be there to cut it in half.”

  Valentin stared at his friend, fighting against the myriad of emotions crashing along his body. After a time, he asked. “What does she look like, Diego?”

  Diego scoffed. “I’ve no intention of telling you. You’ll have to go there and discover that for yourself.”

  “You know I have no intention of going there till week’s end.”

  “Then you will have to change your plans. I will no longer help you hurt her.”

  Valentin couldn’t help the strange little sneer that came out. “She seems to have made quite an impression on you.”

  “I know what I know,” Diego replied simply. “I went along with your plans because I believe the conte should pay for treating your sister so vilely.”

  “Speaking of which, did you do what I asked you to do while in Spain?”

  Diego’s fury soothed a bit. “I did.”

  “Did you have to pay much for it?”

  “No, it seems there are many people who have a grudge against the Carlists.”

  “Good, very good.”

  “But even though I did that, I still think this is wrong. Now that I have seen her, talked to her, and been in her presence, Dios! I wish I had never helped you.”

  “She is a means to an end.”

  “She is your wife! And you better recognize this: your wife is not your sister and neither of you her brother.”

  Long after Diego had stormed out of the ranchero, Valentin stood at the foot of Jacinda’s painting. What would make a woman like Ysabel Garcia de Alba want to become a nun?

  The knowledge of that battled back and forth in his head. The hatred of the conte along with the unknown quality of his sister.

  Becoming a nun was to live a life of obscurity and servitude. Only some individuals of the holy orders, such as the famous nun, Sor Patrocinio, who influenced the Queen and her husband with claims of mystical experiences and visitations from heavenly beings.

  The questions whirled around and around in his head. Unanswerable questions that exhausted him until he fell into a heap at Jacinda’s feet, and into a deep sleep.

  He was visited again by Jacinda but this time, she stood over him in the room dedicated to her memory. The flow of her mantilla swayed about her as if caught in a wind. She stared down at his prostrate form.

  “Hermano, go to her. She needs you.”

&
nbsp; “I will. At week’s end.”

  “You will go to her, hermano. If you love me, then you will do as I ask.”

  He came up on his knees. “I miss you, mi hermana. I wish you were here with me.”

  Jacinda fell to her knees. Her arms reached out as if to touch him but he couldn’t feel her. “Go to her. Once you do, you will not miss me anymore.”

  “You’ll always be in my heart. I won’t rest until you have found peace.”

  A sad expression draped over her face. “Oh Val. I wish you could see what I see. But I’ve not been granted such permission. It is a lesson you will learn on your own but I fear it will be too late. Go to her,” she repeated, “And you will not miss me anymore.”

  “She is not a substitute for you.”

  Just then, Jacinda smiled, erasing the melancholy that had dominated her face. “I certainly hope she won’t be, brother. I certainly do.”

  La Choza del Bosque

  Two days later

  Ysabel wondered if a person could die from loneliness.

  For the past four days, ever since she arrived to this forsaken place, she’d been a victim of her own company. The only person who she spoke to was the young woman from the neighboring village, half a day’s ride away from their location, who stayed. But for some strange reason, the woman adopted a servile attitude towards her, even though more than once, Ysabel asked her not to.

  So most of her time was spent alone.

  The wretched house looked no better on the inside although it was much sturdier. It contained three small rooms, a dining area, and a meager garden she worked to stave off the loneliness that threatened to overwhelm her.

  And her rage at the husband who had abandoned her here.

  All her hopes and dreams of having a marriage she could live with in some capacity had dissipated that first night. When, despite the state of her arrival, despite the lies, Valentin Carrion del Bosque would come to her and at least explain himself.

  Perhaps he would give her the story behind this vengeance against her brother. Who was this sister? What she’d been like that he would go to such lengths?

  Of everything, Ysabel had wanted to understand. If she understood, then she could forgive him for what he had done.

  But he never came that night, and the day after that, and the day after that. Today, she’d lost all expectation of seeing her husband. Maybe this had been his plan all along—get her away from her brother and then abandon her to a life of loneliness.

  She got up from the floor she had been scrubbing, a task she had never done until three days ago and surveyed her hands. Before this, her hands had been soft and well cared for. Now they were chapped and rough.

  But that didn’t matter. She had been lied to and manipulated and as of right now, there was nothing she could do about it.

  However, she did have some paper she had brought with her and she began a letter to Mother Superior. Ysabel had no idea when she’d be able to send the letter to the woman but she hoped it would be soon.

  “Contessa del Bosque?”

  She turned her head around to see the woman, Maria, standing there.

  “Si, Maria?”

  “Patr—er, Senor del Bosque is here.”

  Ysabel stilled. The blood pounded in her ears, loud and deafening. She stood there in a stupor.

  “Is he?” she asked, sure the woman was simply a fabrication of her mind.

  “Si. He wishes for your presence outside.”

  “He does?” Now her heart beat as fast as a horse’s hooves that pounded on the ground. How dare that man, her husband, no less, wish for her presence outside! How long had she waited for him? Days! Days! And now he had the audacity to demand anything of her?

  She picked up the bucket which held the water she’d been using to scrub the floors. “Tell him Maria, if you don’t mind, that I will be right there.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Valentin expected her rage. He expected her tears and her screams of injustice. In the past two days, as he journeyed from his ranchero from one end of Santa Fe to this one, he prepared himself for the onslaught of emotion Ysabel Garcia de Alba would give him.

  The last thing he expected was to see a vision of loveliness as unearthly as an angel coming toward him with a smile on her face.

  He watched her as she descended down the rickety steps. Adorned in a plain gown with an apron, her beauty made the drab garments look like a ballgown.

  Once her feet touched the barren, hard ground, she strolled gracefully towards him.

  It gave Valentin ample time to look at her in full. Hair dark as midnight, pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. The clear bright skin of her face shone with the same purity of the breast of a white dove. Those eyes were the most arresting part, large with a slight tilt at the ends that gave her an exotic look.

  She was truly beautiful. Otherworldly.

  He saw her hand move but couldn’t remove his gaze from her loveliness. As he neared, he saw the tip of her retroussé nose and her full lips with their bee-stung blush of color.

  By the time he realized what was happening, a bucket of smelly water came pouring over his body.

  “Argh!” he screamed, holding his sopping clothes away from his body. Bits of debris and grime clung to him.

  “Bueno dias, Senor del Bosque. Bienvenido a nuestra casa.”

  Welcome to our home, eh? What a welcome it was!

  Her voice was low and melodious, snaking along his spine in a curious way. Before he could articulate anything else, she gathered both sides of her skirt and gave him a deep curtsy. “Thank you for welcoming me to my home. I call it La Choza del Bosque.”

  He winced. The shack of del Bosque.

  “Contessa,” he started to say.

  “Why don’t you come into our home and see the changes I’ve made. I’d love to show what I’ve been doing in your absence.”

  Valentin didn’t know what to say. Ysabel was as calm and cool as a block of ice. If it wasn’t for the water smelling up his clothes, he would have thought that she wasn’t upset.

  He glanced over at Maria, who kept her head averted from him but he detected a hint of a smile.

  “I’d like to see it.”

  He walked behind her, his feet squishing some of the water that had drained into his boots.

  Entering the derelict abode, he saw that Ysabel had not been idle.

  He bought the house and land some time ago when he first contemplating moving here. The house had fallen into disuse and he’d always intended to fix it up. But when he had concocted this plan days before he received the conte’s response to his demand, he knew this would be the place to bring his wife.

  Valentin had expected the contessa to wilt under such extreme conditions. In fact, he wouldn’t have blamed her if she did. Instead of succumbing, she had done admirably well.

  The cobwebs which had hung in the corners of the home had been swept away. Floors, while not shiny had been cleared of all sorts of layers of grime. When he and his men had come out here to prepare this place, they’d gotten rid of vermin that had taken refuge in the abandoned home. That still left other small animals, rodents mostly, but it seemed as if she had gotten rid of them, too.

  Cupboards opened and wiped clean. Windows washed to let some of the light in. As he followed her down the small hall, he saw the flutter of linens caught his eye. She must have erected a clothes line between the two trees out there.

  When he had surveyed the house, they came back to the front room where he had entered. Gazing at the silent woman by his side, he said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you.”

  “I’m also sorry you weren’t here. We could have had this conversation sooner.” Indicating the table, worn but clean, she invited him to sit with the same grace as if she were hosting the Queen.

  “I demand an explanation from you: why did you lie to my brother?”

  “I would provide you with an explanation, contessa,” Valentin Carrion del Bosque answer
ed in a hard tone. “If you provide me with an explanation yourself.”

  Ysabel drew back. “An explanation of what?”

  “Why did your brother lie to my sister?”

  “I had no idea until two months ago that you even existed. Not until my brother told me about this preposterous offer.”

  “If it was so preposterous, then why are you here?”

  “Because—” she started and then stopped. How much should she reveal to this man?

  The first sight of him had startled her. Tall, without the added height of his sombrero, gave him an intimidating profile. When he removed the wide brimmed hat during the tour of the shack, she’d gotten an impression of thick curly hair and high drawn eyebrows.

  Though his drab clothes, still wet and smelly from the bucket of water she’d thrown on him, and shoes spoke of a low station, he wore them with a certain distinction impossible to miss.

  He had a hard face, in the likeness of Atilio’s unrelenting mask but that’s where the similarity ended. Unlike the cruelty which underpinned her brother’s façade, Valentin’s had an element of determination and grit that was unmistakable in all the angles and lines that made up his facial features.

  “Well, contessa?”

  There was a drawl of mockery in his words.

  “My reasons are my own.”

  “Then, neither do I have to explain to you regarding my dealings with your brother.”

  He made as if to rise when she leapt to her own two feet. “Sir, you will explain yourself. Whatever my brother did to your sister, it has nothing to do with me.”

  Valentin’s dark brown eyes narrowed. “Do you know what the conte did?”

  “No,” she replied truthfully, “But perhaps I have an inkling of understanding. Particularly since my brother said something to the effect that you wanted to avenge her honor.”

  His left eye twitched. Though he hadn’t moved a muscle, she backed away from him, sending an explosion happening within him.

  “So, the conte knew about my grievance with him?”

  “I assumed so, but he refused to tell me.”

  “I wonder why he would keep it from you?” he said, almost as if he were talking to himself. Indeed, he looked thoughtful.