Page 22 of The Rogue’s Embrace

Lisandro glanced up at the dark clouds and swore. Rain was coming, and soon; he could smell it in the air. The last thing either of them wanted was to be caught out on the road in the middle of a storm. They had left the last village two hours ago, and it was too far for them to travel back and escape the threatening weather.

"It looks like we are going to get a soaking," he said.

When he received no answer to his comment, Lisandro drew back on the reins and turned to look over his shoulder. Instead of Maria being where she had been, travelling just a horse-length to his rear, she was a good fifty yards behind him. She had dismounted from her horse and was staring out over a nearby field.

Lisandro rode back and pulled his horse up next to hers.

"It's going to rain soon; I think we should seek shelter. That looks as good a place as any," she said.

His gaze followed her pointing finger. A low stone barn in the middle of a grassy meadow caught his attention. A granero! Tonto! How did I miss that?

Not for the first time did Lisandro send a prayer of gratitude to heaven for having been gifted the company of not only a beautiful woman, but a capable one.

They led their horses through a gap in the rock wall that ran alongside the road and toward the barn. There was no sign of a house anywhere. The barn was more than likely a place for hay to be stored and as a winter shelter for animals.

Inside they found exactly what they needed.

"This is perfect. There is feed for the horses, a trough with fresh rainwater, and best of all, clean hay for us to sleep on," she said.

They tethered the horses at one end of the barn, then removed the saddles. While Maria set about unpacking their gear, Lisandro gave their mounts a well-deserved rub down.

"You are mighty beasts and have got us a long way today. I give you my thanks," he said.

Not surprisingly, the horses didn't bother to respond. They were too busy tucking into the clean hay.

Today had been long and extraordinarily arduous. From arriving into port early in the afternoon, to then discovering that their enemies were lurking in Bilbao, to now having spent many hours in the saddle, Lisandro was bone-weary.

If only we had made it to Eibar. I hate us being out on the road like this; it leaves us exposed.

He would have to settle for accepting what progress they had made. Maria was out of Bilbao, and Eibar was close enough that if they had to make a midnight dash for it, they stood an even chance of success—so long as the threatening storm was not fully upon them.

With the horses dried and fed, he joined her over in the corner of the barn where she was sitting on a pile of loose straw, cutting up some cheese. Earlier in Bilbao, while he had been negotiating the purchase of two horses, Maria had gone to a nearby market and secured provisions. For a daughter of nobility, she was possessed with a sensible and practical nature.

From the saddlebags, she produced a sealed ceramic jug of cider, a large loaf of fresh bread, and a jar of pickled vegetables.

"That looks delicious," he said.

She grinned at him, then produced another small sack and handed it over.

Lisandro opened it and took out a long object wrapped up in cloth. His nose picked up the scent in an instant. "Smoked cod?"

"Now we are truly back in Spain," she said.

Lisandro leaned over and placed a soft kiss on her lips. "That we are."

It may have been simple fare, but with Maria by his side, it was the best meal Lisandro had enjoyed in a long while.

The rain came an hour later, heralded by lightning and thunder. A cacophony of noise danced across the tiled roof of the barn. Fortunately, the horses seemed to be comfortable with the drama from the heavens and paid it no heed.

In their cozy corner of the barn, Lisandro and Maria huddled over a small lamp. It was the only source of light they dared use. They hadn't seen anyone on the road for several hours, but they couldn't risk being discovered. If they had been followed, a secluded barn in the middle of nowhere was the last place they wished to be found.

The very thought of Lisandro making good on his promise to fight to the death in order to protect her had Maria blinking back tears.

I can't bear the thought of ever losing him. I love him.

He passed her the last of their remaining food. Maria wrapped it and placed it back into the bags, along with the rest of their provisions. Lisandro then carried them over to the saddles. Everything was ready just in case they had to make a hasty escape.

When he returned to her, Lisandro sat and took Maria in his arms. Using a pile of clean straw, she covered them to help keep warm. The barn was dry, and they were as comfortable as the circumstances would allow.

"We should try and get some sleep. I know the weather is bleak, but I want us to be on the road at first light," he said.

She looked at him and smiled. "How far is it from here to Tolosa?"

"Somewhere around twenty-eight miles. The horses are both in good health and are capable of doing it. I know it will mean another long day in the saddle, but the sooner I can see the tower of my home, the better. I have men who can take up arms if required,"

he replied.

Despite Lisandro's suggestion, Maria didn't want to sleep. Not just yet. The mention of his family home provided the perfect opportunity to engage him in conversation.

"Tell me about your home. I mean, what it means to you,"

she said. She didn't need him to describe the place; she would see it for herself soon enough. What Maria wanted to know was how it had helped to form the sort of man that Lisandro was—someone who looked beyond his estate to the rest of Spain.

Lisandro lifted the glass of the lamp and blew out the candle. They were plunged into darkness. The only source of light were the occasional flashes of far-off lightning as the thunderstorm moved away.

"I expect it is similar to yours in many respects. Crops, beans growing on hillside trellises. I have a small amount of wine grapes growing on the southern side of the estate. I intend to add some more sheep in the next year and go back to making cheese."

A warm kiss touched her forehead and she sighed. "Go on."

"My home is the reason why I got involved with the English during the war against France. I wanted Spain to be free of Napoleon, to be able to make its own decisions regarding the future," he added.

Those were much the same words her father had said during the dark days of King Ferdinand's exile in France. That a free Spain was what all of them wanted.

"But having the king once more on the throne is not going to achieve that. He has gone back on his word. The ordinary Spaniard has been left without hope or rights," she said.

Her words were dangerous—some would say seditious. Traitorous. His silence was just as worrying. Had she just said something which could get her into further trouble?

You know men don't like to hear women discuss politics.

"You should be careful about what you say, Maria. Ferdinand has already had many people arrested this year—writers and newspaper editors. He intends to crush any sort of opposition to his claim to absolute rule,"

he replied.

"So, you would wish your future wife, whoever she is, to be silent when it comes to these sorts of matters?" she said.

In the inky night, it was impossible to read his face. His hand took hold of hers and soon soft kisses touched the palm of her hand. "No. But I would expect that she used careful judgment when it came to be expressing her opinions and with whom. There are dark days ahead for Spain. King Ferdinand is a capricious and vengeful man. There are courtiers who would seek to win his favor by telling him the names of those whispering words against him."

"You were one of the people who helped bring him back to Spain. My father also,"

she replied.

The reality of their situation set her mind on edge. Her father, too, had worked to restore the king to power, but now he was out of favor.

Spain was changing, and she feared it was not for the better. What if she had given her heart to a man who fought to maintain the status quo when all the world around them was shifting?

"I did what I did because I am a loyal Spaniard. But since his return, Ferdinand has proven himself unworthy of being king. I would suggest your father has come to the same conclusion. All I ask of you is that if we discuss these sorts of matters that it is done in the privacy of our home, and even then, not in front of the servants,"

he replied.

She caught the warning in his voice. Who was to say that one of Lisandro's trusted household members wouldn't turn against him in the same way as they suspected Se?or Perez had done with her father?

Lisandro would be branded a traitor and publicly denounced. She couldn't bear the thought of him being taken away to Madrid and having to face the royal inquisitors.

"Agreed. We will only talk about this when we are alone," she said.

He was a part of her life, and she would do anything to keep him safe. Maria rolled over and placed a tender kiss on Lisandro's lips, then whispered, "I trust you to do what is right for this country, and I will always stand beside you. I love you."

"I love you too."