Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
A cold cup pressed against my lips.
I shoved it away and scrambled up, leaning back against the headboard.
“Steady.” Miguel sat on the edge of the bed, frowning.
I welcomed the familiarity of my four-poster bed, enshrined within the long, sweeping net that kept the mosquitoes at bay in summer and shrouded me against the maid’s inquisitive looks on mornings when I craved privacy.
“How long have I been asleep?” I asked.
He offered me the cup. “Try to settle down.”
“How long?”
“A day.”
“How long was I away?”
“A week.”
Panic twisted my stomach into knots. “Valiente?”
“We found him in the stable.”
“Is he…?”
“Your horse is fine.” He stared at my face, his expression saying he didn’t think the same of me. “Valiente needs reshoeing.”
“Miguel, what happened to me?”
“I was going to ask you that.”
“What time is it?” I gulped the rest of the water.
“Seven.”
“Morning or evening?”
“Evening.”
“Everything seems so foggy.”
“We’ve checked you over. You have no injuries.” He pulled open the curtains.
“Close them.” I motioned to the long, white drapes.
“We found you collapsed by the front door.” I heard the anxiety in his voice.
I examined my left ear, but it felt normal. “Please, close the curtains.”
Miguel lifted the window latch and opened it. “And you need fresh air.”
I flopped back down onto the pillow.
“You’re home now.” He rested beside me. “Where did you go?”
“To see Alicia.”
His puzzled gaze met mine. “How did you find her?”
“Doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want to see me.”
“She’ll come round.”
“She has a son.”
Miguel smiled. “That’s wonderful.”
I pulled the bed sheet up and over me. “Senator Grenaldi’s the father.”
“She married well.”
“She’s not his wife.”
Miguel flinched and then softened his expression.
“Why can’t I remember anything?” I wiped sweat from my brow.
“The shock of seeing Alicia after all this time was too much, perhaps?”
I had a vague memory of Alicia’s awful grimace when she saw me for the first time in years, and the emptiness of her stare, sorely reminding me of the distance festering between us. I cursed my inability to rescue her.
He patted my shoulder. “Why don’t you write to her?”
“I don’t think the letter would reach her.”
“I’ll hand deliver it.”
I stared at him to make my point. “I don’t want you anywhere near Vigo.”
“So that’s where you went?”
The warm breeze billowed the curtains.
He topped up my cup. “The Romany performers asked a high price for their main act.”
“Annabelle? She’s still here?”
His eyes lit up. “She is, and she’s done nothing but talk about you since she’s been here.”
I smiled, feeling a rush of happiness.
“You have two letters.” He handed me an envelope. “This one came two days after you left.”
I ripped it open.
Velde,
My lawyers are scribing the deeds of ownership to your estate. The papers will arrive shortly. See that you sign them.
FDG
Miguel studied my reaction. “Everything all right?”
The coward hadn’t even signed his name. “There were two?” I tucked Felipe’s letter back into the envelope.
“This one has the Royal Seal of King Ferdinand V.” He gave me the second dispatch.
The luxurious parchment and royal crest illustrated its noble source. Peeling back the adhered seal, I eased out the scroll and unfolded it.
He leaned in. “What does it say?”
“I’ve been knighted.”
“Is this one of your jokes?”
“No, but I can’t accept it.”
Miguel peeked at the official parchment. “Is it real?”
I nodded, just as baffled
He lowered himself down onto one knee.
“Don’t.” I gestured for him to stand. “I didn’t earn it.”
“The king doesn’t bestow such an honor unless—”
“Evidently he does.”
“Well, you did sell him all our best horses. Only you would consider refusing a royal command. You don’t get to decline.”
“Maybe I do.”
Miguel stood and headed for the door. “I’ve had enough stress for one day. Feel better. They are bringing you food. Eat.” He left the room.
I wondered if it would be considered heresy to tear up the scroll and refuse the honor of knighthood. My mind raced to unravel the chaos.
It was a day that split itself in two – equal parts brilliant and brutal. The kind that leaves you not knowing if anything is real. My fingertip traced the royal crest over a waxed seal that seemed genuine.
Although my memory had fractured, I recalled being at the senator’s residence. Those injuries had seemed so real. I’d lost a week and hated the feeling.
Annabelle appeared in the doorway, a vision of loveliness as light from the corridor illuminated her.
“Daumia, how are you?” She came closer, reached for my hand, and kissed it. “Thank you for letting me stay here.” She refilled the cup on the bedside table and gave it to me.
“You’ve been treated well?”
Her eyes watered with emotion. “Yes. By everyone.”
“How long have you been a dancer?” I tried to work out her age.
She lifted the net out of her way again and sat beside me.
“My father sold me to the Romany. I’ve danced for them ever since.”
I was about to ask her to dance for me again but couldn’t after hearing that truth.
She gazed about, as if taking in the room.
“It wasn’t always this way for me,” I said, unable to keep from staring at her.
“This wasn’t your family’s home?”
“No.”
She frowned. “Then how did you end up as master?”
“A mixture of luck and,” I scratched my head, “hard work.”
“Miguel told me it’s because you work alongside the ranch hands that the staff admire you.”
I drank the rest of the water.
“How long can I stay here?” she asked.
She was the epitome of innocence. Having stolen her away, I was no different than her father who’d betrayed her trust, or the men he’d sold her to. No different than Felipe who’d laid a claim to her.
I reached out to touch her but quickly withdrew my hand.
I’d closed my heart before. This time would be no exception.
I had to let Annabelle go.