Wicked Whispers. Tina Donahue

witchcraft. How she wished to live in a different world where women’s lives weren’t made unnecessarily difficult. Forcing them to hide their feelings, tell lies when truth would have served better, and to always wear fear as men did their sense of privilege.

      Weary of having to pretend to be someone she wasn’t, and to prove to Enrique why he shouldn’t woo her, she faced him. “As the nuns know little and physicians would have been suspicious of any questions I might have had, I learned most of what I know from books.”

      “Books taught you this? Whose?”

      “Mine.” There were also the experiments she’d mentioned earlier.

      He glanced quickly at the adults, then leaned closer to her. “Will you show your books to me? I can come to your castle whenever you find a visit convenient.”

      “The books are elsewhere.”

      “Oh. Do you bring them with you when you travel?”

      She laughed softly. “Even the strongest man would have difficulty carrying dozens of volumes. A woman would have no chance.”

      “Where do you keep such a collection?”

      She was afraid to say.

      He sighed. “Do you trust me so little?”

      She already believed in him too much, captivated by his integrity, the way he listened to her, and his presence. If there were such a thing as sorcery, he’d been working his spell on her from the moment they’d met.

      She kept yearning to be closer to him, feel his heat, and enjoy the taste of his lips again. A stray crumb on the corner of his mouth fascinated her, urging her to lick the morsel away, feel his beginning stubble against her tongue, cheeks, and fingers.

      She had to stop thinking such things. “Isabella’s.”

      “Isabella’s what?”

      “She has my books at the castle.”

      “Fernando’s? Why?”

      She regarded the wrappings on her hands rather than him. “Should anyone question my actions and send the authorities for me, a search of my castle will yield them nothing, especially my books. Whatever happens—”

      “Nothing will. Not to you.”

      She slumped. “The books will still be safe and available to another woman.”

      “Why are you always worried about everyone else rather than yourself?” He leaned toward her, gripping the seat of his chair. “Why do you insist on putting yourself in such danger?”

      She gestured to Maria.

      He fell silent. She did too, her fatigue too great to resist. Closing her eyes, she kept alert to any sounds Maria would make.

      The girl was blessedly silent, allowing Sancha to recall the celebration, the thrill and worry of having Enrique next to her. Their moments on the balcony. His concern and kindness here, followed by his quick anger when he believed she was careless with her safety.

      She had no choice. Death wouldn’t wait for the world to grow fair for everyone. She had to do what she could while there was time. Endless people needed saving, their health and lives restored. She pictured her patients recovering only to grow ill once more. Inquisitors nearby, watching, waiting, ready to pounce.

      A hand rested on her arm. She flinched and struggled to open her eyes, her lids gritty with sleep.

      The child’s uncles lay sprawled on the floor, one snoring loudly. Maria’s mother still watched over her daughter, the child’s face slack with slumber, no pain etching her features.

      Sancha stifled a yawn.

      “We should go.” Enrique squeezed her arm gently. “You need real rest in a bed. Twice, I had to keep you from falling off your chair.”

      He had? “I feel fine now.”

      “Will the child heal faster if you force yourself to stay awake so you can watch her sleep?”

      She refused to smile at his teasing. “You know she would not, though a vigil is comforting.” She straightened and tried to shake off her fatigue. “Maria’s uncles are clearly too tired to see me back to the castle. They need their rest. I have no intention of disturbing them.”

      “I agree. You and I can ride together on my horse.”

      “No.” To have him pressed to her was more than she could allow.

      “I see. Have you suddenly lost your desire to defy convention or was I correct that you trust me so little?”

      She didn’t trust herself. She’d proven how weak her flesh was when they’d been on the balcony. To have the excuse of riding behind him would prove too tempting, her hands roaming his chest, firm belly, thighs, the area between his legs.

      She shook her head. “We both risk injury if you fall off your horse because you need sleep.”

      “I have never been more alert and will protect you.”

      He would undo her resolve as surely as the sun rose each morning.

      Before Sancha could counter him, he left his chair and approached Maria’s mother. “Will you be able to care for your child when she awakes?”

      “Nothing will stop me.” She turned to Sancha. “I remember everything you said I should do. If Maria needs you again, I promise to send word.”

      “Never speak of what happened here to anyone,” Enrique said. “Do you understand?”

      She drew back at his suddenly harsh tone. “I know what trouble gossip can bring, and so do the others in the village. They too may need help someday.” She glanced at Sancha. “You saved my daughter’s life. I owe you my own. No one will ever make me betray you.”

      After embracing the woman, Sancha checked the linen covering Maria’s wound. Everything was as it should be. With naught to delay her, she followed Enrique outside, her heart pounding. The coming dawn tinted the horizon orange, pink, and pale blue, colors that seemed more vivid this morning than they had on any other day. A soft breeze shooed away the acrid smoke, replacing the stench with the scent of vegetation and Enrique’s delightful fragrance.

      Giddy with anxiety and excitement, she locked her knees to keep from swaying. He offered his hand.

      She didn’t slip her own inside. “If you mount first, you can easily help me up so I can ride behind you.”

      “And have you tumble off my steed if you fall asleep? What kind of a protector would I be to allow such a thing?” He dragged his hair off his forehead where the wind had blown it. “I can see to your safety far better if you ride in front of me. No arguments, as I gave you none during your time with Maria.”

      No wonder he’d been so agreeable, figuring he might use his actions to sway her at some future point. “Any protests you might have made would have angered the child’s uncles and her mother.”

      “I fear no one’s fury except yours. Especially if we reach the castle in full light with the guests seeing how we ride.” He pointed at her shirt. “And how you dress.”

      Darkness was definitely her friend.

      She allowed him to help her mount. He settled behind her, his muscular thighs pressed close, stiffened shaft nestled against her buttocks. She gripped the saddle horn to steady herself. Her pulse throbbed even harder.

      With too much ease, he held her to him and left the village.

      The men guarding the community lifted their pitchforks in farewell. Enrique bowed his head in acknowledgment, his heated breath skipping across her cheek.

      She turned into him without thinking, reckless need racing through her until she curbed her feelings. Sitting straighter, with her back barely touching his chest, she searched for something to discuss. She sensed her experiments would