Chapter Three

Castile

Spain

J oanna held her small, gold cross between her thumb and index finger and stared out of the window at the stable yard.

Raul was brushing her horse, his movements efficient yet tender as he flicked the brush over Gianna's gray coat. Small, wispy strands of hair caught on the breeze, floating up and off. Every few minutes, Raul would pause to pet Gianna's neck or muzzle and speak soothingly to her.

It was clear he adored Gianna as much as the horse adored him.

Joanna's mind wandered, as it often did, to how it would feel to have Raul concentrate all that attention and care upon her. To know the heat of his work-worn hands on her bare flesh. To learn the shape of his broad shoulders, long, lean back, and taut buttocks with her palms. It was a desire she had to keep buried deep.

Soon she would leave for Flanders and he would be in her life no longer. Her fantasies of his tan skin sweat-slicked against hers would be forever locked away. And the flash in his eyes, when he stood close to her, smiled at her, would be a memory that would likely fade over time.

She sighed and resisted the temptation to stamp her foot as frustration welled. If only she could know what the archduke was like… perhaps leaving Raul would be easier if she did.

The temptation to run away with Raul, run like the wind, to a faraway place where she could live a simple peasant life by day and lie with the man of her dreams all night was almost too much to resist.

But resist she must. Her love for kingdom and country had to come first. She'd been brought up to believe that as a true fact. She would not let her parents or her people down.

At that moment, Raul paused brushing Gianna's tail and looked up at the window.

Joanna caught her breath and dropped the cross so it hung around her neck once more. She didn't step back into the shadows. It was too late. Raul already knew she'd been watching him.

And it was her right to, if it pleased her. She was a princess and this was her castle.

He tipped his head, the sunlight glinting off his black-as-night hair, and his mouth tipped into his usual easy smile. It was as if seeing her studying him had pleased him immensely.

She swallowed tightly and her heart did a strange flip as heat went through her body.

A sudden idea came to her and she rushed to her bedchamber, gown held an inch above her ankles for speed of movement. Once there, she flipped open the lid on a mother-of-pearl jewelry box and plucked from within it a small cameo set in a gothic, silver design. It contained the image of a young woman— her image—in profile and wearing a rolled headdress.

Quickly, she tucked it into her pocket. Within minutes, she was descending the stone steps that would lead her out into the stable yard.

Once there, she paused, blinking in the bright sunshine. The yard was quiet. A cat slunk between two piles of hay, no doubt on the lookout for mice and rats, and a wiry-haired dog slept in the shade beside an empty food bowl.

Raul stopped what he was doing and turned to her. "Your Highness."

"It is midday, but still you work," Joanna said, walking toward him and checking for stray hairs that may have sprung free from her blue, velvet headdress.

"A horse cannot brush itself." He patted Gianna's neck.

"That is true." She came to a halt at his side.

"Do you wish to ride, Your Highness?" Raul said. "I could fetch her saddle."

"No, it is too hot." Joanna wrapped her hand around the brooch in her pocket. "That is not what I wish for at all."

Raul appeared to hold in words as he studied her.

Joanna caught her breath. Was he about to tell her how he'd also been having thoughts about them running away together? How perfect their life could be if only they were far from here.

"What can I help you with? I am at your service." His dark eyes studied her face and his eyebrows pulled low.

"I should like to brush my horse." She held out her free hand.

"But that is not a task for… Of course, Your Highness." He gave her the brush.

"Show me how." She set the brush on Gianna's rump.

"Just go with the direction of hair," Raul said. For a moment, his hand hovered over hers, then he rested it down, covering her knuckles and his long fingers aligning with hers. "Like this. Slow and gentle."

Joanna's heart stuttered and every hair on her neck stood on end at the feel of his body heat, his breath…his whispered words. He shouldn't have been so near to her. He shouldn't have been touching his young mistress, but he was.

Flouting all the rules had never been so exciting.

"Caress her, show her you care," he said softly as he steered the brush downward. "She will become almost trance-like, bewitched by touch."

Joanna bit down on her bottom lip, thoroughly bewitched herself and imagining Raul was talking about her that way. Or was he? Heat grew between her legs and her nipples tingled. She had the sudden urge to rid herself of her clothes. To demand that Raul do the same. Her stomach clenched and she locked her knees to stay upright.

She'd never been so close to a man this way. A man she dreamt of, thought of, whose name was on the tip of her tongue in the dead of night when her fingers slipped between her legs.

"She is enjoying your attention," Raul said, his voice barely a whisper now. "For she feels connected to you above all others."

"Is that true?" Joanna let her hand be guided by his.

"It is a truth I know in the bottom of my heart."

"What else do you know in your heart?"

He stilled with his hand covering hers and his chest touching her back. She could hear and feel his breathing.

"Raul? I demand you answer me." Her heart pounded. She was staring at the brush resting on Gianna's coat but barely seeing it.

"I cannot answer you, Joanna."

She turned, forcing him to release her. When she looked up she was surprised by how close they were.

It was quite improper, as was the use of her name so casually.

She didn't care.

"Raul. What else do you know in your heart?" She studied his lips, soft and plump, perfect for kissing. Black stubble grew on his chin and cheeks and she was sure it would scratch her delicate flesh should he come any closer and press his mouth to hers.

"I can never tell you, for it can never be," he said.

"What can never be?"

"You know what I speak of." His lips tightened and he shook his head. "I cannot give you what you need, Your Highness. I am not the one for you, no matter how much you are the one for me."

She swallowed tightly. "But surely, it goes both ways, I—"

"No." He touched his finger to her lips. "I also love Spain, and the people of my country. You owe them a duty that I cannot distract you from."

"Not even for one—?"

"Do not dangle temptation before me. I am a mere mortal." He stepped back. "I beg you, Princess. Do not tempt me."

"Am I so easy to resist?" She placed her hands on her hips. "Look at me. Am I so easy to resist? Tell me."

Taking a deep breath, he looked her up and down. "Truth be told, it's the hardest thing I've ever done." He took another step backward, as though needing to put distance between them. "I must go now."

"Go?"

His jaw tensed and his fists formed tight, round balls. "Yes." He turned and took several fast paces toward the barn.

"Wait." She reached for the brooch again. "Raul, wait. I command you."

He stopped but didn't turn.

"I want you to have this." She rushed to his side and held out the cameo.

"I cannot take anything from you." He didn't even look at the delicate piece of jewelry.

"A parting gift for my head groom. You have served me and Gianna well for a long time." She paused. "Good work should be rewarded. Here, take it."

To her relief, he did, then lifted it up to examine the image. "It is you."

"Yes."

He frowned. "They will say I have stolen it."

"It is a gift. From me to you." She curled his fingers around it. "But keep it close to your body, your heart. Keep it hidden if you must. For I leave soon and we will never see each other again."

He closed his eyes, his long, dark lashes forming small shadows on his cheeks.

"And when you think of me," she said softly, "know that I think of you too."

"You are generous of spirit." He opened his eyes again. "To say such a thing."

"What do you mean?"

"You will be with your new husband, a powerful, influential man with whom you will fall in love and to whom you will give many children."

"And you will be with your wife, Raul. She will be sweet as honey, pretty of face, and willing to please."

"I will never marry." He slipped the brooch into the chest pocket on his sleeveless tunic. "For my heart has already been stolen. It will never belong to another. Not now. How could it?" His eyes flashed, as though they were filled with moisture. His voice was tight.

Joanna felt like a dagger had landed in her chest. It stole her breath and her lower eyelids prickled. "Raul," she managed.

"Be happy, my beautiful princess. That is all I ask of you. Be happy." He stepped around her, then with his head bent, he marched to the barn and was swallowed by the shadows.

Her throat was constricted with emotion and she dashed at a tear that had spilled.

"Joanna."

Her mother's sharp voice was like a sudden, unexpected slap to the face. She set back her shoulders and blinked rapidly.

"What on Earth is going on?" Queen Isabella hurried over the yard, not her usual domain, with her skirt held safe from straw and dust. "I just saw you talking to that stableboy and—"

"Is it not permitted for me to ask about the health of my horse?"

Isabella frowned, two neat lines slicing over her brow. "That is perfectly acceptable." She searched Joanna's face as though hunting for secrets. "But from what I saw…"

"What did you see, Mother?"

Isabella's face darkened. "You leave tomorrow, my child, a virgin bride for Archduke Philip of the House of Habsburg. Do not make me doubt your unsullied state."

" Mother !"

"The archduke demands an immaculate bride, as does his father, the King of the Romans."

"And I am as such."

Isabella nodded and reached for the cross at her neck. "Only you and God know the truth and I hope it is so."

"Mother." Joanna reached for Isabella's hand. "How could you doubt me? You of all people. You know I am a good and pious Catholic who reveres the word of God."

Isabella sighed. "I just want the best for you. For all of us. Life is hard enough without being foolish and following one's heart."

Joanna was quiet, knowing that was exactly what she'd been thinking of doing. Following her heart. Following Raul to wherever he suggested they go.

"Remember Helen of Troy, Guinevere, Sappho—all women who followed their hearts and in doing so, it led to their demises. Each and every one of them." Isabella tapped her temple. "We must follow this, our brains, and you have an especially quick one, my love. Do not let those rushing thoughts lead you down the wrong path. The path to an eternity of burning in hell."

"There are no such immoral thoughts, Mother, you must believe me." She pulled in a deep breath, wishing her heart would stop racing. "I have no intention of going to hell, only to Flanders to marry the man you wish for me."

"Good." Isabella nodded. "Because it is what we wish for you. And for you to produce heirs."

"I will do my best, Mother." She nodded at the doorway into the castle. "Shall we get out of the sun?"

"Yes."

They made their way over the stable yard, Gianna munching on her hay and watching them lazily. "Can I ask you something, Mother?"

"Of course."

"What do you think he is like? Philip."

"I have heard he is very handsome. Strong jawed, broad shouldered, and with steely, gray-blue eyes and hair the color of sunshine."

"You have heard all of this?" A sudden thrill Joanna hadn't been expecting gripped her. "From whom?"

"It is a common knowledge. Unsurprising, given who his parents are."

"He is handsome," Joanna repeated. "That is good. And his nature?"

"It is reported that he is an excellent horseman, hunter, and fighter, again like his father, and he also has a charming way about him, particularly when it comes to politics." She paused. "And women."

"Women?"

"Some men are good at charming women and they like to put it into practice. Take your father, for example."

"Father? Yes, I suppose he is good at charming people." Joanna thought of the way the king could command respect and simultaneously change the mood of a room, steering people in the direction he wanted their thoughts to go and orchestrating moods and emotions. "I am pleased if the archduke turns out to be also charming."

Isabella huffed slightly.

"What is that noise for?" Joanna asked.

"Charming is not always the blessing you think it is."

"Why ever not?" Joanna stopped and turned to her mother.

Isabella sighed. "A charming and handsome man is likely to have a queue of women waiting to get into his bed."

"What? No. A husband wouldn't do that. Father wouldn't and I'd forbid Philip to, I—"

"My love, you have much to learn as a wife." Isabella took Joanna's hands in hers. "Men like to have many lovers. A woman can take only one, but a man…"

"No." Joanna shook her head. "That's preposterous. God would frown severely on such a sin."

"It is not a sin in the eyes of many."

"It is in my eyes." Joanna clenched her jaw so tightly, she feared for her teeth. "I will not allow my husband, even if he does turn out to be as ugly as an old toad, to have other women in his bed. He is mine, and mine alone."

Isabella sighed again. "I hope it is not a conversation you ever have to have with him. The ones I have had with your father on the subject have been some of the hardest of my life."

"Father has taken lovers?"

"Yes." She held up her finger. "But we will talk no more of it." Isabella closed her eyes and sighed. She turned away.

Joanna's heart twisted to think of the pain her mother must have been in knowing her husband had other women in his bed. How she hadn't scratched out their eyes, sliced off their hair, burnt them with hot pokers, she didn't know. If she were staying in court long enough to pluck up the courage, she would tell her father that it was unbecoming of a king and dishonorable of a husband to commit adultery.

She would pray for them both.

"Beatriz has nearly finished your packing," Isabella said, the shake gone from her voice. "You should oversee the cases before they are put on a cart and sent to the port."

"Er, yes, I will. Thank you."

Isabella smiled.

Joanna gave into a sudden urge to hug her mother. "I will miss you, dreadfully."

"As I you." Isabella held her close and stroked her hair. "In your marriage hope for friendship and easily borne sons, nothing more, then if you get more, it will be a bonus, my dear daughter."