Page 19 of The Spanish Daughter (The Lost Daughters #5)

18

TWO WEEKS LATER

Valentina closed her eyes. Her entire body had been shaking as she stepped up to the altar, but her mother’s sharp prod in her back as she’d arranged her silk train reminded Valentina what was expected of her. If she’d thought she could have escaped, she would have, but she was under no illusions about what lengths her mother would go to, to ensure this marriage went ahead. But as she tried not to cry, her father’s words echoed in her mind.

You are my daughter, Valentina. One day this will all be yours. We have the same Spanish blood running through our veins, don’t you ever forget that.

She slowly opened her eyes and blinked away tears, repeating the words that were asked of her while at the same time searching for a way to honour her father. It had never been so clear to her as it was now that he’d foreseen something like this happening, that he’d understood that she was the only person who could truly fulfil his legacy. But she doubted he’d ever imagined her mother would force her into marriage, and from the estate that she’d always called home.

Before Valentina knew it, her new husband was leaning forward to kiss her, and she stood as still as possible, trying not to feel sick when his lips touched hers. And when she glanced out of the window of the little church, her heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

Felipe was standing there, his face forlorn, his eyes catching hers and somehow conveying all his pain and hers in one fated glance as they stared at each other. But he only stood for a moment, long enough for her to let out a sob as her legs wobbled beneath her, before he was gone. Before the man she loved disappeared from sight.

‘Ahh, she’s weak at the knees from her new husband’s kiss,’ the stranger beside her said, planting his hand around her waist to keep her upright.

She shuddered; that stranger was the man she was now married to.

The family gathered around them all laughed, and Valentina felt the sharp stare from her mother. But she didn’t care. She might be able to force her into marriage, but she couldn’t make her smile. She couldn’t make her behave or do her bidding.

I wish you were here, Papa.

‘The poor girl is still riddled with grief over her father, as are we all,’ her mother said, dabbing at her eyes.

‘Of course,’ Valentina’s new husband said. ‘Which is why this union is so special. It gives everyone a new beginning, doesn’t it, Valentina?’

She nodded, refusing to wilt before them. Valentina forced her shoulders to straighten, her jaw clenched as she wondered how they could all stand there and smile as if her father hadn’t just died and her mother hadn’t forcibly wed her to a man she had no interest in even speaking to, let alone marrying. She wished she could make herself invisible.

‘Smile, Valentina,’ he muttered in her ear. ‘No one likes the look of a sullen bride, no matter how beautiful she might be.’

Something inside Valentina died in that very moment, and she desperately fixed her eyes on the window, willing Felipe to reappear so that she could catch one last glimpse of him, wishing she’d said yes to him. She’d made promises to her father, and she’d had every intention of honouring them, but she couldn’t help but question whether, if he’d known what future she faced without him, he’d have told her to elope with Felipe and never look back.