The Flesh and the Devil by Teresa Denys Read Free Book Online Page A

— I waited all night, and in the morning my father came and found me
in the garden.' She shivered. 'If only he had not made me tell him the truth,
and then told Senor de Castaneda, I think I could have endured even that.'
             
             
             
              'He told him ?' Michaela sounded startled.
'Everything?'
             
             
             
              'Everything of consequence — that I would have run away
rather than marry his precious nephew, and failed before the attempt began; but
if there were anything else, he would delight in taunting me with that, too.
But nothing he can say will force me to marry his nephew against my will — I
had rather end my days as a nun,' she finished stormily.
             
             
             
              Michaela shrugged and was silent, recognizing the signs of
her mistress's unpredictable temper with a pang of surprise. For the past three
days Juana had been haughtily silent, frozen by grief into an unnatural
composure that had been far more worrying than any tantrum; now, it seemed, the
numbness of shock was fading. She set about soothing her mistress, as she had
in times of disaster since Juana was a child, knowing that this, like the lime
three years ago when Senora de Atrelanos had died, was no tine to try to laugh
away her grief. Working gently, she unlaced Juana's gown and released her from
her hampering petticoats, unpinned her long black hair and removed the frame.
             
             
             
              A long sigh escaped Juana as she huddled her slim body into
the softness of a silk robe. Her flesh felt bruised from the unyielding
stiffness of the stomacher, the sheer weight of the gown that she had worn for
so many hours in the sweltering confines of the carriage. As Michaela started
to sponge the stickiness from her skin with cool water — not so soft as the
water of the streams in Navarre
              — her brain began to relax, her thoughts at first slowing,
then ceasing their frantic circling.
             
             
             
              Michaela took up a brush and began to smooth her mistress's
thickly curling, blue-black mane. Its lack of smoothness was a constant
irritation to Dona Beatriz, and normally the curls would have been heavily
oiled and combed to demure sleekness, but this morning de Castaneda had
demanded such an early start that there had not been time. The gentle brushing
was indescribably soothing, and after a little Juana's eyelids fluttered and
fell, and some of the tenseness went from her.
             
             
             
              'You are very good to me, Michaela,' she said at last.
'Thank you.'
             
             
             
              The brush hesitated in its path, then resumed. 'It is
nothing, senorita. So many roses —‘ Michaela sniffed appreciatively. 'The scent
is everywhere — the Duque must be a generous man to send so many, must he not?'
             
             
             
              'I had rather have his welcome — or, better still, his
leave to depart. There is no hurry, Michaela — we are not to attend supper
tonight. The senor' s wife says that she will have food sent to us here.' Juana
opened her eyes to see Michaela's face reflected in the glass, and its sudden
pout of disappointment.
              'What, did you want to go down? I thought you would be as
weary as I am.'
             
             
             
              The Moorish girl grimaced. 'I like a little life, senorita,
and this place promises more than Zuccaro or I would not pave been so forward
to come here. But I daresay you are right; we shall be more admired if they see
us first when we are