Diego drew in a sharp, exasperated breath. “Blessed Mother of God!”
“You still long for home, for resolution. You miss your parents and you grieve over the broken relationship with your brother.”
That cut to the bone. Beneath the swift stroke into tender flesh Diego could not speak, only stare, his eyes burning.
Francisco cleared his throat. “’Tis time you made those things right. Return with me to Spain. Do as your parents have asked.”
“That would be deception, Padre. To pretend to be my brother? To wed the girl in his name? A lie. It seems wrong to me.”
“Nay, Diego. What is wrong is you here, far from your home and family, an exile from all you ever held dear. What is wrong is you here, wearing robes of the priesthood for reasons that demean the sacred. What is wrong is bearing the guilt—”
“And there wouldn’t be guilt from this action, too? That girl…and Damian? Just to think of it makes me writhe. She’s young, her innocence a fragile thing.”
Diego raked his fingers through his hair. “Padre, you know Damian. He’ll not treat her kindly. He’ll not love her. Will this marriage be good for her? Nay, it will not! How could I feel anything but guilt over my part in it? I cannot do this.”
Francisco drew in a long, deep breath. “In some things you’ve changed, Diego, but in this you have not. You yet think with your heart. It’s why I love you, why Leonora loved you.”
Francisco stroked his chin with a thin finger. “I shouldn’t question the ways of God, but sometimes I do wonder why Damian was born the heir and you were not.” He shook his head. “It’s true that Damian is unworthy of the girl. She is beautiful and full of goodness. She’s loving, kind towards others, exuberant and joyful. She has much that would please a normal man—a keen mind, a sharp wit, and a form…ah, a wondrous form for a man to touch. But Damian won’t cherish those virtues. I know that. His taste is too vulgar. Whores, harlots, and worse, for now there are boys—”
Diego held up a hand. “Enough. Tell me no more.” He turned abruptly to face the other man. “What I need to know is this—how can your conscience be at ease with the thought of giving her to him?”
“Because I’m thinking of your parents. They suffered great pain when you left. They’ve suffered daily ever since.”
The muscle in Diego’s jaw tightened. “I know. It grieves me yet.”
“They know what Damian does, what he is. They’ve little hope he’ll ever change and be worthy of his fine lineage. Their hope now is for the future.”
“They want a grandchild.”
“Aye, they do. Their hope of redemption.” Francisco drew in a long sigh. “Is that not God’s way, my son? That even in the darkest evil there’s always a remnant of virtue, a seed of hope for the future? The seed of your parents’ hope lies with Celeste. They’ve come to love her, Diego—for her virtue and her pluck, for her loving heart and her kind ways. They hope that a child of her womb might have her qualities, rather than those of his sire.”
“I’m not convinced Celeste wants Damian.”
“I doubt she does. She’s intelligent enough to sense the evil in him. Yet she has little choice. Her kinsman is the King of England and he’s committed her to this course.”
Francisco crossed his arms before his chest, his gaze solemn. “Diego, she will wed Damian, whether you aid us or not. Your help only hastens the enterprise and eases the hearts of your parents. Should you choose against it, the nuptials might be stayed, but they will not be stopped. You do understand this?”
Diego nodded, but said nothing.
“Damian will be found—indeed, might have been ransomed already for all we know. We might return to Spain only to find the entire voyage unnecessary. However, your intention to do this for him, for your parents, will restore you to your rightful place within the family. It will show your brother your sorrow for the past.”
Diego snorted. “As if he’ll appreciate that. As if he’ll forgive. How am I to know he won’t make good his threat to kill me?”
“Ten years have passed. His anger has cooled. He has no reason now to feel threatened by you. He has the title, he has the wealth, and he has the girl. He has it all. What have you, Diego, beyond this robe you wear and this vow you’ve made? Indeed, he’ll view you with disdain…with pity, even. But he’ll let you be.”
Diego breathed in deeply. “I’ll think on all this, Padre. I promise you nothing but that.”
Padre Francisco smiled. “That is enough for now, Diego. ’Tis enough.”
Celeste knew Barto had probably thought her request odd, but still he complied. By the time he’d received her message and met her at the stables, she had horses saddled and ready.
Barto’s expression was a mixture of curiosity and bemusement as she handed him the reins. “Here,” she said. “I chose this gelding for you myself. He’s large and powerful, but his disposition is one of gentleness. Rather like you, Barto.”
Barto grinned, pulling his large frame up into the saddle. “I don’t know about that, señorita. Few others have found me tame, but when it comes to you, I’m foolishly twisted around the crook of your smallest finger.”
Celeste smiled up at him, then mounted her own horse, a smaller black mare. “The crook of my finger? I doubt that. Yet I do thank you for coming to ride with me. I need your advice.”
Barto glanced at her sideways. “My advice? You wouldn’t rather have that of good Padre Francisco?”
“Nay, Barto. Padre Francisco would likely shake his head and censure me for my honest questions. You, on the other hand…”
“I, on the other hand, have no room for censure, is that it? Most interesting, this, if it’s my heathenish advice that’s warranted.”
“I need to talk, Barto. I have questions, but no father and no mother from whom to solicit advice.”
“You have Don Alejandro and Doña Anne.”
“Aye, and most especially I could not say these things to them.”
Barto raised an eyebrow. “This must be serious indeed.”
“Aye. I know not how to ask even you. I shall have to be direct. Surprisingly so, I fear.”
“I guessed as much,” he said with a sigh. “You’ve questions such as any maiden would have, considering her tender state of pending matrimony.”
Celeste’s cheeks flamed, but she nodded. “You are wise, Barto. Or else I am too easily read, like a book whose plot is overly familiar.”
“Nay, there’s nothing wise about me or overly familiar about you. Yet truly hath it been said that the most necessary things of life are air to breathe, water and food for subsistence, and a lover with whom to sport. Since air is not your problem, and you eat little more than a cat, I figure the worry in your eyes has mostly to do with the lover, or the sporting, or both. Do you grow disturbed about becoming wife to Damian Castillo?”
“Aye. I do not much cherish the man and dread all I must perform.”
“You’ve no wish for him to bed you?”
Celeste nodded.
“Well,” Barto said. “’Twill not be the most awful thing you’ve ever done, certainly. And, like I said, you can forget him and all further intimacies once an heir is born.”
“I can’t do it, Barto. He’ll find me dreadfully inept. I know so little.”
Barto smiled. “I promise you, it won’t be a problem. A man prefers that