Spanish Serenade Read Free Page B

an edge of danger. There was not a shred of sympathy.
    Refugio de Carranza looked at the woman he held, and felt as if a hand had squeezed his heart inside his chest. He had come to this rendezvous out of purest wanton curiosity, to see what manner of woman could rouse Vicente from his studies and persuade him to use methods of communication that were reserved, usually, for direst emergencies. He saw. She was beautiful, with the fair skin and hail that spoke of the blood of Visigoth invaders in her veins, coloring that was common in northern Spain where he was born, but more rare here in the Andalus. There was pride in the tilt of her head and the set of her shoulders, and also determined bravery. Remembering the softness of her, the fragrance of her skin and silkiness of her hair against his cheek, he found it necessary to subdue a strong need to gather her close once more. He had thought himself invulnerable to the allure of her kind. It was incensing to be proven wrong.
    “Well?” he said when she made no sound. “Did you have a purpose, or is it a game? Shall I seek to relieve your tedium, or would it be best if I guard my back?”
    “I—I would never betray you.”
    “Your assurance eases my mind. That, and my inspection of this fine garden. I can only suppose that if there's an assassin present, it must be you.”
    “No!”
    “It's a tryst, then. And here I am a laggard lover, behind in my embraces. Come and let me taste your sweet lips.”
    She gave an abrupt shake of her head, resisting the pull on her wrist that he still held. “It pleases you to make fun of me, though why it should I have no idea.”
    “Why not? There's little enough fun in the world for me and mine. But it would please me more to be told why I was bid to come.”
    “I want—” She stopped, horribly uncertain of the wisdom of what she meant to say.
    “Yes, you want…? Everyone wants something. Shall I complete what you are too bashful to say?”
    “No!” she said in haste. “I want you—”
    “I knew it.”
    She glared at him in annoyance and embarrassment.
    Then she saw, projecting over one shoulder, the neck of a guitar that he carried slung across his back by its shoulder strap. It came to her abruptly that he was the serenader she had heard; the timbre of the voice, its soft power, was the same. The knowledge eased the doubts inside her, though she could not have explained why. She drew a shallow breath and spoke quickly and a little too loudly.
    “I want you to abduct me.”
    His grasp slackened. Pilar twisted her wrist free and stepped back. That she had surprised him gave her a fleeting satisfaction.
    It was premature.
    “By all means,” he said, sweeping his hat from his head as he bowed with consummate grace. “I am at your service. Shall it be now?”
    “I wish it might, but I have no means to pay you at this minute. If you will wait and take me as I am being escorted back to the convent, there will be a chest of gold, the endowment to be paid in my name. You may have it as your reward.”
    His stillness was complete, like that of a stalking cat before it strikes. When he spoke, the words had a slicing edge. “I am to be rewarded? Surely to have you would be enough?”
    Angry confusion washed over her in a wave of heat. “You — You won't have me,” she said. “You will deliver me at once to my aunt in Cordoba.”
    “Will I?” The question was softly suggestive.
    The man in front of her had once been a grandee of wealth and title, with all the instincts and manners of his class. Now he was a bandit, an outcast who made his way by preying on his fellow men. He was El Leon, a leader of thieves and outlaws who could only have gained his position by being stronger and harder than the men he led. How could she trust him?
    How could she not?
    “You must help me, Refugio de Carranza!” she cried, stepping toward him and clutching the edges of his cloak in her hands. “I'm saying this all wrong, but I had no idea