A Bride for Valentin Page 6

  Especially if she was his wife!

  And he couldn’t get rid of the memory of her arms around his waist. Or her tears at his pain. Or the horror at her brother’s misdeeds. Did a woman like that deserve to be taken in an unfeeling fashion as he had intended?

  When did things become so complicated?

  The moment he lay eyes on her.

  “Valentin?”

  He blinked. “Ysabel?”

  “I have no intention of reneging on my promise. If you want, you can wash up first while I take care of these things. Then, if you will give me time, I will prepare myself for you.”

  “Are—are—you sure about this?”

  “You said that I would be your contessa, didn’t you?”

  How could he forget? He nodded.

  “Then I will be after tonight.”

  Ysabel tried to suppress the butterflies in her stomach as she waited for her husband. This wait was different than the four days she had been left alone in this house. Then, it had been anxiety, fear, and despair.

  This wait, however, was different.

  Of course, she had to do her duty to this man. After what his sister had suffered by his brother’s hands, she had to make recompense. Listening to the story had only made her despise that she even bore the name of Garcia de Alba.

  She stood in the room, waiting for him to arrive. Among the things she’d brought with her, she had caved into the fantasy that maybe Valentin would love her. So she put on a sheer, chiffon gown with ruffled lace at the wrist. Its neck was shaped with a peasant’s collar, loose and tied at the divot of her neck with a pearl button that kept it closed as well.

  She brushed her hair until it lay against her back in silky softness. She’d added lavender to her bathwater in order to perfume herself for this important night.

  Now she sat waiting. The bed had been made with the threadbare sheets and covers she’d found. It wasn’t soft as the one she’d had but like many things in the past few days, she’d gotten used to it. Now that this was to be her life, she’d better get used to it.

  Four days ago, she’d never lifted a finger to clean the house she grew up in as a child, and yet, with Maria’s reluctant help, she’d become quickly acquainted with the backbreaking chore of housework.

  She enjoyed cooking in her leisure time and had once or twice tackled that with eagerness but that was in sporadic phases. Now, every day she had to think of the meals and see what could be made from the barest ingredients.

  Now she had a husband to care for solely on her own but when she ran her brother’s house, it had been with the assistance of a plethora of servants who did her bidding without a modicum of fuss.

  For many years, she wanted to save her virgin blood for no one but herself. But now, she would give it to Valentin because it was her duty to do so.

  And yet, why this strange anticipation?

  The door opened and Valentin entered the room.

  He’d obviously bathed, the odor of the bucket of water she used to clean the floor finally gone. His nightshirt hung down to his ankles but was parted at the throat.

  Wisps of damp hair clung to his forehead, dark as the night shadows. A smell of sandalwood permeated the room.

  “Come here,” he ordered her in a soft voice.

  Swallowing her nerves, she got up and quietly padded over to where he stood. Do your duty, she told herself as she stood before him.

  “You look lovely, Ysabel,” he said, his eyes roving over her.

  “Gracias.”

  He took his hand and traced it along the side of her neck and down to the shoulder. She shivered uncontrollably, unaware that such a sensation like that existed in all the world. It confused her.

  “Did you like that?” His eyes bore into hers.

  “I don’t know,” she said with a drop of her head, feeling embarrassed. “I don’t dislike it.”

  “And even if you did, you would let me do exactly as I want, wouldn’t you?”

  She nodded. “I told you I am giving myself to you.”

  “As is your duty to the Garcia de Alba family to make up for your brother’s sins.” There was something odd underneath the current of his voice. Something she had a difficult time placing.

  Again, she nodded, not sure where this conversation was going. “Of course, someone has to pay for his sins.”

  “Is that so?”

  “You know it is. Or else, why am I here?”

  He lifted his finger and traced the other side of her neck. She didn’t tremble as violently as she had before but a pleasant sort of spark went down her spine.

  His hand dropped. “Go over to the bed and lie down.”

  Smoothing her hand over her stomach, which knotted at his words, she went over to the bed and laid down. She stared up at the white ceiling and sent a prayer to Dios El Padre to give her what she needed to do her duty.

  “You’re praying right now, aren’t you?”

  Her eyes flew open. She hadn’t even heard him move and now he was standing by the bed, looking down at her. “I was.”

  “I can imagine what your prayer must have said. But since, it is a personal thing between you and Santos Dios, I will not interfere. Perhaps He will grant your prayers in faster fashion than He has mine.”

  She opened her mouth to speak when he climbed into the bed and laid almost on top of her except for the weight he rested on his arms.

  It was foreign, this closeness she’d never experienced before in her life. She had never intended to be this close to a man, enough for him to have power over her. She could feel his power emanating from him and she was powerless to stop it because she had given it up.

  “Are you scared, Ysabel?”

  “No,” she croaked out, trying to still the trembling of her limbs. Scared wasn’t the word she would use to identify how she felt. Anxious, maybe? Or…excited?

  “And even if you were scared, you would still be here, lying under your husband’s body because you are prepared to do your duty.”

  “I’ve already said that several times, Valentin.”

  A crooked smile twisted his thin lips. “I know you did, contessa. I’m just trying to make sure I understand it in my mind. Comprende?”

  She nodded, although she really didn’t understand. Too much was going on for her to really comprehend what was happening. For instance, the smell of sandalwood that he’d used in his bath mixed with a scent that was completely masculine and all his own. The feel of his weight against her, heavy and confining and yet, she didn’t feel imprisoned. The trembling of her limbs in reaction to their positions.

  “Have you ever been kissed, Ysabel?”

  Her cheeks flamed in the semi-darkness. “No, I haven’t.”

  “You were never tempted by some dashing lord’s son?” His face had dipped closer and his weight increased.

  She shook her head, feeling her pulse leap in her throat.

  “I would be lying if I said I never kissed a woman, Ysabel. When I was a deck hand on a ship, we went to various ports all over the world. I met women there who were willing to part with their kisses and more for a price.”

  “You are a man,” she said not looking at him. “Isn’t that expected?”

  “It may be expected but it isn’t right. Though I shared certain intimacies with some women, it has been several years since I have given in to my flesh. And, as you are my wife, you are the only recipient of my passions. Do you understand?”

  “I do.”

  “But even if I were to have other women, you would still do your duty to make recompense for your brother, correct?” Now there was mockery to his statement.

  “No, Valentin. I will not give myself to you out of duty if you were to take mistresses. Your past is between you and Dios El Padre. I will not hold you accountable for your actions before your marriage to me. But, if you intend to go outside of this marriage, then I will not give myself to you. I demand, at very least, your loyalty to me.”

  He fell on her then, h
is weight making it impossible to move. A grin brightened his face, even in the darkness. It made him look more handsome than ever.

  “That is what I wanted to hear, contessa. That though you may give yourself to me out of duty, you will not let me completely take advantage of you.”

  “As long as we understand each other,” she said.

  “May I kiss you?” he asked.

  She swallowed. “Kiss me?”

  “Si. May I kiss you?”

  Her eyes dropped down to his mouth. Well-formed and shaped. It looked hard but the dimples on either side seemed to soften it a bit. What would it be like to be kissed by her husband? A man who wanted revenge against her brother, who had lied, and who had put her in a place of poverty. But she understood that when she found out the magnitude of what her brother did.

  Well, she was going to share the most intimate of intimacies with him tonight. It might as well start with a kiss.

  “You may.”

  The feel of his mouth on her lips, warm and smooth, made her feel odd. Bristles of hair from his upper lips scratched against her, but not in an unpleasant way. She lay still unsure of what to do.

  “Move your mouth with me, contessa.” Valentin’s voice had taken on a strange, deep tone. It made something within her respond. Her limbs, which had been trembling suddenly stopped and her feet moved restlessly.

  “How?” she whispered.

  “Like this.”

  He showed her, his lips moving gently on hers. With a little nudge, he parted her mouth and she experienced a kiss like she never thought she would. Intrusive but not invasive. Hard and yet tender. A heaviness that had nothing to do with his weight settled over her limbs.

  Then something began to stir within her. A feeling which blossomed the longer their mouths were connected. With a feather-like sensation, it swept over her body and caused her to moan with a delight she’d never known.

  “Ysabel,” Valentin breathed against her mouth.

  She could barely speak, unused to the sensation wreaking havoc on her. They seemed to have robbed her of all coherent thought.

  “Ysabel,” he said her name more firmly.

  “Yes, Valentin?” she responded, already bereft because she had to dislodge her mouth from the pleasure of his.

  “Did you like that? My kiss?”

  “Si, I did.”

  “Then that is enough.”

  Before she knew it, he had pulled himself away from her and shifted to the other side of the bed. She felt cold all of a sudden. “Valentin?”

  “I thought this is what I wanted from you. Your surrender to me. But now I don’t.” A harsh breath blew out of his mouth. “Now that you’ve decided to give yourself to me…out of duty, I know that’s not what I want. I don’t even know what I want anymore. It used to be clear but now, it no longer is.”

  “What are you saying? Do you not want to take me?”

  He gathered her closer until his arms draped her waist. “Right now, there is nothing more I want than to do that. But I want you to give yourself to me, not because of your brother or your sense of duty because of familial obligations. I want you to give yourself to me, because, like my kiss, you liked it and you want to.

  “Do you understand?”

  Ysabel nodded slowly. “I do. But…I must be honest…what if I never want to give myself to you because I like it. Or because of duty? What will you do then?”

  “We will see what happens then, Ysabel. Now sleep. Buenos noches.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Two weeks later

  “Ysabel! Ysabel!”

  He’d been away for two days and all he wanted to see was the face of his wife. He missed her.

  Nothing met his call but the sound of a gaggle of women laughing. Valentin smiled and set down his satchel, bedroll, and others things he’d carry back from his brief stay at Jacinda’s Rest.

  Going up the stairs, he found he went down the halls that echoed the sound of the women. He finally came to the back of the house where the women all sat in the shade of the trees, talking amongst themselves as they sewed together.

  “Ysabel?”

  She glanced up from the garment she was trying to mend, a smile on her face growing wide when she saw him. “Valentin, you’re back.” There was a special note of welcome in her voice that made him want to reach over and grab her into his arms.

  “I see you’re busy.”

  The women, a mix of old and young all giggled together. They called out to him with the ease of familiarity. He was glad none of them knew him as the wealthy trader who occupied the large ranchero at the end of Santa Fe.

  “They’re teaching me how to sew. Although I get my finger pricked more than the cloth, I am learning.”

  He was surprised to learn that Ysabel didn’t know how to do something simple and feminine as sewing. She’d told him that growing up, most of those things had been taken care of by the servants. She did know how to knit in the past few days, he’d seen her sitting before fire and knitting something or other.

  “You’re going to be good enough so you can make clothes for you babies,” the older woman who smoked a cigar teased, blowing smoke.

  A lovely blush came over Ysabel’s cheeks. “Of course,” she said.

  Making babies with Ysabel hadn’t been too far from his mind either. He hadn’t kissed since that day two weeks ago. Not because he hadn’t wanted to. Far from it. But he wanted her to come to him of her own will, and because she wanted to.

  How far he’d come from taking her in revenge against the conte.

  Her sister had visited in his sleep the day before. He’d gone into the room where her portrait rested. As he studied the picture of his sister, a curious thing had happened. He didn’t feel the same anguish and despair as he had once before. Not even since the last time he’d been to the ranchero a week ago.

  If anything, he found himself comparing Jacinda’s beauty to his wife’s. He found himself thinking of his wife. Wondering how she was doing.

  When Jacinda came to his nocturnal dreams, she stood over him in the room. “Valentin, do you miss your wife?”

  “I don’t understand why. I haven’t known her that long but I do, mi hermana.”

  She glided toward him, the lacy white mantilla flowing outward like wings. “Tell me about it.”

  “Ysabel accepted the responsibility of what Atilio did to you. She offered herself to me…but I could not take her.”

  “That is good, Val.”

  “But it shouldn’t be! I’ve spent the past ten years and more of my life planning to take Atilio to the lowest parts of hell for what he did to you. I was going to do the exact same to his sister and yet...”

  “And yet?” Jacinda had urged when he went silent for too long.

  He’d met her gaze. “I couldn’t do it.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “It’s because, as Diego said to you, you are not Atilio and she is not your sister. Oh Valentin, you can be happy with Ysabel if you give her a chance to make you happy.”

  But he’d already discovered…that he was happy

  In the past two weeks, he’d come to know a few things about this wife of revenge: she may not have been born in poverty, but she took to it rather well. She didn’t complain as he thought she would. She accepted her circumstances and tried to thrive in them.

  The women who visited came from neighboring homesteads in the area. How his wife had met them, he didn’t know but before long, she had surrounded herself with a group of women who had become fast acquaintances.

  He told her that he had to travel every couple of days to ‘trade his wares’ in the village. But when he was with her, he did work around the house and the small plot of land they tilled. She always prepared his breakfast and dinner, making something he could take with him when he worked outside for long periods of time.

  At night, there was the sweetest kind of torment, where she lay in his arms and went to sleep as coz
ily as a child. She had become accustomed to his presence in three days so while she lay wrapped and entangled in his arms, he’d lie wide awake, wondering if a man could die of want.

  Watching her now, as she sat with the women, laughing and talking as if she’d know them her entire life, instead of a few days, he felt a curious warmth cover over him. It was similar to Jacinda’s place in his life…but not the same. With Jacinda, it was more of maternal affection mixed with brotherly love.

  With Ysabel…it was different. Jacinda’s curious words came back to haunt him. That she hoped his wife wouldn’t be a substitute for her. And she wasn’t!

  There she sat, with these other poor women, making plans to spend time with them, preparing to live this life for the rest of her days.

  Valentin’s warm feeling faded away. He had done this to punish her, for something she had nothing to do with. He knew that now in a way he hadn’t understood before. Getting his revenge on the conte should not have come at the price of taking away her right to choose, her right to freedom, and a way of life that was comfortable for her.

  Every couple of days, he’d gone back to Jacinda’s Rest to take care of his business. Each time he went there, he started to envision Ysabel in the house. He could see her ordering the maids about with quiet efficiency, handling the household accounts, meeting with the other society ladies in Santa Fe, hosting parties for the elite and non-elite alike,

  That was the life that was meant for her.

  She had proven that though she had grown up with ease, it was circumstance of birth. With these poor women around her, she acted just as if she were talking to women of her own social status.

  What if she found out that he had lied to her? How would she react?

  Grimacing, he went back into the house. If she knew that he had lied to her, she’d probably throw more than a bucket of dirty water on him. It would probably be a pan of hot oil, enough to flay the skin off his body.

  “I have a surprise for you, Ysabel.”