Spanish Serenade by Jennifer Blake Read Free Book Online

“Perhaps there's something I can do.”
    Isabel took a step forward. “Refugio,” she whispered, “don't.”
    The leader of the brigands did not even look at the other girl. “I wonder,” he said to Pilar, “what your aunt would pay to have you delivered to her, healthy, happy, and, oh yes, untouched?”
    Pilar could feel her heart jarring inside her chest. “You mean to hold me for ransom? How sordid.”
    “Isn't it? And ignoble. But I never pretended to be otherwise. It's you who took me for a figure of tragedy, a righter of wrongs.”
    Isabel's face turned red and tears rose to shimmer in her eyes. “Oh, Refugio, don't say such things,” she cried in dismay. “Why are you doing this? Why?”
    Pilar, distracted by the other girl's distress, spoke baldly to the man in front of her. “Apparently I made a mistake. As for my aunt, I have no idea what she will or will not do for my sake. You will have to ask her.”
    “My next objective, I assure you.”
    He broke off as Isabel moved closer to clutch his arm with white-tipped fingers, drawing his attention. The girl spoke on a quick, indrawn breath. “You're doing this because you want this woman here. You want her, instead of me.”
    Refugio looked at the other girl and not a muscle moved in his face, nor was there a trace of emotion on the silvery surface of his eyes. Holding her piteous, beseeching gaze, he spoke a single word over his shoulder. “Baltasar?”
    The older man was already moving to Isabel, putting his arm around her. “Come away, my love,” he murmured. “It will be all right.”
    “Oh, Baltasar,” Isabel said as she spun around and caught the big man's shoulders in a convulsive grip. “Make him stop. Refugio doesn't care about the gold; he'll only give it away. It's her, I know it is. He'll do something terrible because of her.”
    “Hush,” was the only reply as the burly outlaw turned her and walked her back toward the fire. “Hush now.”
    Refugio, swung with deliberation back toward Pilar. She met his gaze without flinching, but could see nothing except her own reflection in its wintry surface.
    He said, “You were, I believe, anxious to be united with your aunt. That is now my dearest desire. Isn't it wonderful how these things work themselves out?”
    She had not realized she was holding her breath until she heard his brisk tone. It was an effort to control the rise and fall of her chest without being obvious. Her voice was tight as she agreed, “Yes, isn't it?”
    “I would tell you it's my sole desire — but that would be to assume you are concerned. You are not, of course.” There was a grating edge of mockery in his voice.
    “No,” Pilar said.
    He pushed away from the table. “I thought not. You had better eat something and try to sleep. We ride for Cordoba at mid-morning.”
    “Morning! But I thought—”
    He swung back on her so quickly that the hem of his wet cloak made a pattern of water droplets on the floor. “Yes? You thought?”
    “Haven't things changed? Aren't you . . . anxious to see my aunt, to arrange matters?”
    “It will wait.”
    His attitude of barely contained impatience shaded with menace grated on her nerves, but she refused to be cowed. “I couldn't sleep. I would as soon ride on.”
    “Into possible danger from your stepfather's hirelings?”
    “It seems no less dangerous here to me.”
    Light seeped into his eyes, making them shine with cool amusement. “You are concerned, then.”
    “It seems to me that that's what you want,” she said tightly. “I don't know you well, hardly at all in fact, but I'm beginning to think that you usually have a reason for what you do. That being so, I have a right to be wary until I discover what you intend toward me.”
    “In light of what Isabel just said?”
    She lifted her chin, her eyes steady on his. “And your own threats, yes.”
    “And do you think,” he said pleasantly as he rounded the end of the table and moved toward her, “that your