House of Dreams by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online Page A

hesitation. It was a vast understatement. She would die to see it.
    â€œIt would be my pleasure to show it to you,” Antonio said, his gaze on hers, and Cass felt the moment that their eyes locked.
    And as she stared into the brown and green flecks of his irises, she had visions of traveling to Spain, to his ancestral home, to view a portrait of the ancestor who had linked their families once, centuries ago.
    â€œNo. Cassandra is not going to Spain.”
    Her aunt’s voice was so harsh that Cass flinched before facing her. “What?”
    Catherine flushed. “How can you go to Spain? You are in the middle of a deadline.”
    Cass stared, realizing what her aunt was up to. She did not want her
involved with Antonio de la Barca, just as she did not want Tracey involved, because of the secret of the past. Because Antonio might discover what had happened to his father. If the matter were entirely closed—or entirely innocent—Catherine would not be so stricken. “I am in the middle of a deadline,” Cass finally allowed, with a quick smile at Antonio. She did not tell him she had an entire year to finish the book she was working on, and she was also dismayed. How she wanted to go to Spain, to this man’s home, to see the portrait of Isabel de Warenne, her ancestor.
    If Antonio was disappointed, Cass could not tell. “I suppose I could photograph the portrait,” he said, studying them both. “And send the photographs to you.”
    Catherine did not reply. So Cass said, “That would be great,” with an enthusiasm she did not feel. But now she was determined to get to the bottom of Catherine’s secret, and to go see the portrait for herself without opening up any cans of worms. “Has the portrait been evaluated?” Cass asked. “Do you know when it was painted? And by whom?”
    Antonio smiled, perhaps at her fervor. “Actually, no. But as I said, Alvarado de la Barca remarried in 1562. So the portrait was painted before that. She seems quite young, eighteen, maybe, if I recall correctly. I haven’t been back to the house in a number of years.”
    Cass found that last statement a bit odd, and she thought she saw a darkness flitting through his eyes as he spoke. But she might have imagined it, because now he smiled a bit at her. “Where is your family home?” she had to ask.
    Before he could reply, Catherine’s voice rang out. Loudly. Oddly. “She died in 1555.”
    Cass stiffened, turning to gaze at her aunt in surprise. “What?”
    Catherine was extremely pale. “She died in 1555. Isabel. She was a heretic, and they burned her at the stake.”
    Cass stared at her aunt, who stared back, her eyes wide, blue, burning—almost unseeing, almost fanatically. And Cass was filled with dread. She shuddered.
    What a terrible way to die.

THREE
    Cass quickly moved over to Catherine, putting her arm around her. Her mind was spinning, racing. “The year 1555 would be the last year of Mary’s reign. A number of heretics were burned at the stake.”
    â€œYes, they were. Even more heretics were burned in the empire,” Antonio said.
    Cass knew he referred to the Hapsburg Empire, inherited by Mary’s husband, Philip II of Spain. “What a terrible death.” She shivered. She felt sick to her stomach just thinking about it. “But didn’t nearly everyone who was Protestant when Mary came to the throne profess outwardly to being Catholic? Why was Isabel singled out for heresy, I wonder?”
    Antonio stared at Cass, and Cass thought she saw a new respect in his eyes. “Only fanatics were prosecuted, as a warning to the rest of the populace,” he said. “I did not know about Isabel’s fate.” He regarded Catherine. “However did you learn of her death? And are you certain of it?”
    Catherine pursed her mouth, her eyes blurring with tears. “I had forgotten,”