She smiled. “No. I did not plan that.”
He stroked his chin and feigned a serious look. “No? A pity. Such a startling introduction, and, alas, none can take credit for it!”
At her answering laughter, Diego abandoned his sombre expression and grinned. “You did, however, come to this island in search of Diego Castillo. Tell me why.”
Celeste’s stomach did an urgent roll. She’d come to the moment of decision. Success or failure would be met in a matter of moments.
“I came to ask you to return to Seville with me.”
Diego’s face registered momentary surprise, quickly contained and changed to a certain wariness that she sensed rather than saw. “Return to Seville? Why?”
She’d prepared for this. She’d practised a speech. But where was it now?
“Because I need you.”
It was a pitiful argument, and she should have expected a snort of disdain or disbelief. Instead, his expression softened the slightest bit. “You need me, señorita? Ah, and I am such a heartless beast if I can refuse your winsome face. Please explain.”
“Your brother and I were to make a marriage of alliance, arranged on behalf of the Kings of Spain and England by Cardinal Cisneros himself.”
“And have you met my brother?”
“Yes, but only briefly, just before our betrothal ceremony. He was at sea during most of the three months I lived with his parents—your parents—prior to that time. I cannot claim to be well acquainted with him. He was taken before we had further opportunity to learn of one another.”
“Taken by whom?”
“No one knows for certain. There are several factions in Spain who resist the efforts of your king to establish friendly relations with England. They are growing stronger, gaining strength all the time. The fear is that their constant agitation will ultimately lead to war.”
Diego frowned. “The situation is a grave one, then.”
“It is, indeed. Your father is anxious that these criminals should not appear victorious. They would gain further support from the people. For now, his gold has bought secrecy. Few are aware that Damian has been taken and the proposed alliance delayed, but the secret cannot be held indefinitely.”
Celeste met Diego’s gaze. “We need you. If you return to Spain and play your brother’s part, the intent of Damian’s abductors will be foiled. It’s even possible the charade may secure Damian’s release. If the marriage is accomplished, with you standing proxy, they will no longer have reason to hold him.”
“This is why my father sent you?” Diego’s scowl did not bode well. Celeste wanted to plead with him, already hurting over the rejection she anticipated.
“Yes,” she said. “He feared the dangers, but I begged him to let me come. My desire to wed is great. I trusted the outcome to no other.”
Diego’s gaze sharpened. “What does this marriage mean to you?”
She drew in her breath. She hadn’t expected this question.
Everything. This marriage meant everything.
But how could she explain? The story had begun so long ago, and had grown so convoluted. Even she didn’t understand all the intricacies and intrigues of it.
Her father had been a kinsman of King Henry. In younger days the two men had shared deep affection and similar notions of what was best for the country, but gradually their ideas had diverged, until finally they had been in sharp disagreement.
Those who were kind and thoughtful of Celeste and her younger brother, Jacob, called the carriage accident that had taken their parents’ lives a tragic misfortune. Those less respectful bandied about the words murder and traitor—though in her heart, Celeste would always believe her father had acted on his highest principles, heedless of possible consequences.
That belief had enabled her to endure the subtle ostracism of society. Believing that had led her to stand over the newly turned earth of her parents’ graves and vow that she would somehow restore the honour of her family, for Jacob’s sake. For Jacob, and for his earldom, and for the name Rochester, which he would always carry, she hadn’t protested when King Henry had made Thomas Rochester’s orphaned children his own wards. Later, when an alliance had been proposed, she’d sensed how dear it was to King Henry’s heart, and for Jacob’s sake she had agreed.
Certainly she didn’t want marriage for herself. Her father had left her half of his great wealth, so she would ordinarily have been in a position to choose for herself the ultimate course of her life. She could have remained unmarried, and probably would have done so. But there was Jacob, and the doctors said…
The doctors. So many doctors. And all in general agreement as to the cause and cure of Jacob’s malady.
Her brother had not spoken one word since his parents had died.
Time had passed, the grief had dissipated, but his tongue had not been loosened. Jacob, with his sweet angelic face and golden halo of tousled curls, still remained locked in his own world, unable to find his way out.
The doctors were convinced he needed the kind of life he’d known before the accident. He needed beauty, and peace, and the love of a family to free him of his fear and insecurity.
Celeste had hoped marriage to Damian Castillo might be the means to provide those things.
But now Damian was gone and she needed Diego. Without his help there would be no marriage and no family and no secure, happy life for Jacob.
Diego watched her face, awaiting her response.
“This marriage means everything to me,” she said simply.
His eyes narrowed. “Is it money?” he asked. “Do you lack wealth and seek marriage for that reason? Because if it is—”
She cut him off with a low growl. “No. That is not my reason.” She drew in a deep breath. “Will you help me?”
Everything in Diego recoiled at the simple question. Everything about this felt wrong to him. But Celeste’s eyes were so anguished, so dark with secrets she would not share with him. He couldn’t explain why, but he was reluctant to hurt her with blunt refusal.
He gently turned aside her question with one of his own. “What is my brother’s appearance now?”
Celeste’s face grew hopeful, and he could have cursed at himself for his carelessness.
“His hair is short, not long as yours is. Where you’re clean-shaven, he wears a full beard and moustache. His clothing is ostentatious, costly and elaborately embroidered, and he favours the codpiece, after the English fashion.”
“He would.”
Diego was silent for a while, his mind churning and yet feeling strangely numb. “My father knows I hate deception.”
His hands clenched and he made a harsh sound. “But he also knows I owe a debt. Dear Lord God, he knew I’d have to do this.”
Celeste looked relieved. “You’ll return with me?”
Diego turned, studying her face. Did she not understand? Did she not care? What he was being asked to do went against all he knew, all he felt. And he felt too much in this moment, too much pain, too much guilt, too much desire.
Celeste did not meet his gaze; he wondered what was in her thoughts. What did she want? What did she feel?
As if to connect to the mystery that lay behind her veiled eyes, Diego took her hand. The contact was so potent it burned him, a sweet