the curve of her breast with an idiot's
curiosity. 'Soft. . .
She jerked away from the caress with a little wordless
sound that hurt her throat, and the blue eyes regarded her craftily.
'I think I shall tell my uncle I will marry you. I am to wed
and get a son, and you are f-fertile enough.' The echo of his uncle's voice
sounded in the boast, but then his expression clouded. 'What is your name?'
'Juana.' He had forgotten it already, she realized.
'Juana.' The red lips moved in a slow smile. 'Juana,
Juana..Juana - now I say I con-consent to take you for my wife, and that means
I can kiss you!'
She froze. The touch of his hand was had enough; it was hot
and clammy and unconsciously cruel in the mindless strength of its grip, but
the thought of that fleshy mouth touching hers made her want to scream. She
felt herself grasped and pulled towards him as the flailing free hand landed on
her shoulder; then, as the sour reek of his breath engulfed her and a cry broke
from her lips, a level voice came from the other end of the long room.
'You are too hasty, Your Grace. Have you forgotten what I
taught you?'
The Duque's closed eyes flew open in surprise, and Juana
tore herself free. All at once it was more important to be free to face the
servant than to escape his master, but behind her she heard Bartolomé give a
delighted crow.
'Felipe! Look, I am going to marry her, j-just as Tio
Eugenio said!'
'Are you so?'
Tristán's great height seemed to dwarf his charge, his
broad shoulders and muscular legs making the other look more then ever like an
ungainly puppet by comparison; as he stepped forward the sun struck him,
turning his red hair to pure fire and throwing the scarred side of his face
into shadow. He was watching Juana with an odd blend of hostility and ironic,
amused alertness.
She must have given some sign of her distaste, because
Bartotome glanced sideways at her and giggled. 'The King keeps a dwarf, but I
k-keep a giant! Felipe makes people do what I tell them.'
No doubt of that, Juana thought, remembering the almost
vindictive strength in the long-fingered hands that were more like a scholar's
than a soldier's. She said quickly, quelling the sudden trembling that took
her, 'I wish to be taken back to my aunt, senor,' and turned towards the door.
'No, she must not go yet! S-stop her, Felipe!'
Tristán's arm barred Juana's way. The movement looked
casual, but beneath the dark sleeve she could feel tense muscle, as unyielding
as iron.
'By your leave, madam'-something in the uninflected voice
made her look up sharply-'it grieves me to disobey you, but my first duty is to
my master.'
The Duque chuckled close by, and she jerked away from
Tristán's touch as though it burned her, speaking with an edge of despair.
'What more would you have? If the Duque's choice is more, there is no more to
say.'
The expression in the green eyes was coldly curious as they
looker down at her, and when Tristán answered his words were so quiet that she
could barely hear him.
curiosity. 'Soft. . .
She jerked away from the caress with a little wordless
sound that hurt her throat, and the blue eyes regarded her craftily.
'I think I shall tell my uncle I will marry you. I am to wed
and get a son, and you are f-fertile enough.' The echo of his uncle's voice
sounded in the boast, but then his expression clouded. 'What is your name?'
'Juana.' He had forgotten it already, she realized.
'Juana.' The red lips moved in a slow smile. 'Juana,
Juana..Juana - now I say I con-consent to take you for my wife, and that means
I can kiss you!'
She froze. The touch of his hand was had enough; it was hot
and clammy and unconsciously cruel in the mindless strength of its grip, but
the thought of that fleshy mouth touching hers made her want to scream. She
felt herself grasped and pulled towards him as the flailing free hand landed on
her shoulder; then, as the sour reek of his breath engulfed her and a cry broke
from her lips, a level voice came from the other end of the long room.
'You are too hasty, Your Grace. Have you forgotten what I
taught you?'
The Duque's closed eyes flew open in surprise, and Juana
tore herself free. All at once it was more important to be free to face the
servant than to escape his master, but behind her she heard Bartolomé give a
delighted crow.
'Felipe! Look, I am going to marry her, j-just as Tio
Eugenio said!'
'Are you so?'
Tristán's great height seemed to dwarf his charge, his
broad shoulders and muscular legs making the other look more then ever like an
ungainly puppet by comparison; as he stepped forward the sun struck him,
turning his red hair to pure fire and throwing the scarred side of his face
into shadow. He was watching Juana with an odd blend of hostility and ironic,
amused alertness.
She must have given some sign of her distaste, because
Bartotome glanced sideways at her and giggled. 'The King keeps a dwarf, but I
k-keep a giant! Felipe makes people do what I tell them.'
No doubt of that, Juana thought, remembering the almost
vindictive strength in the long-fingered hands that were more like a scholar's
than a soldier's. She said quickly, quelling the sudden trembling that took
her, 'I wish to be taken back to my aunt, senor,' and turned towards the door.
'No, she must not go yet! S-stop her, Felipe!'
Tristán's arm barred Juana's way. The movement looked
casual, but beneath the dark sleeve she could feel tense muscle, as unyielding
as iron.
'By your leave, madam'-something in the uninflected voice
made her look up sharply-'it grieves me to disobey you, but my first duty is to
my master.'
The Duque chuckled close by, and she jerked away from
Tristán's touch as though it burned her, speaking with an edge of despair.
'What more would you have? If the Duque's choice is more, there is no more to
say.'
The expression in the green eyes was coldly curious as they
looker down at her, and when Tristán answered his words were so quiet that she
could barely hear him.
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