Those long eyelashes swept down, and she stiffened, an almost imperceptible movement but he could hardly miss it, given how close they were.
‘Alas, the grey mares are no longer in the palace stables,’ she murmured. ‘My father sold them.’
‘Oh?’
The Princess didn’t choose to enlarge and as Guillen drew abreast, Inigo didn’t press her.
‘Are we going to stop, my lord?’ Guillen asked in his hopeful voice.
‘Is Raven’s shoe giving you trouble?’
‘No, my lord. Raven seems fine.’ Guillen gave a loud yawn.
‘I’m sorry, lad, I know you’re exhausted,’ Inigo said. Guillen hadn’t been prepared for this race through Al-Andalus any more than Inigo had. ‘We’ll rest soon. Sir Enrique’s folly caught us all unawares.’
‘Sir Enrique’s folly?’ The Princess laid a delicate hand on Inigo’s forearm and a dark eyebrow lifted. ‘Are you saying that you didn’t plan to come to the sally port, Lord Inigo?’
Inigo saw no reason to lie. ‘My lady, I had no such plans until the last moment. My sole aim was to leave Al-Andalus and get back to Castile as quickly and safely as possible.’ Conscious of the Princess’s innocence, Inigo picked his words with care. If Princess Alba had spent her days cloistered with her sisters, she would have no experience of life outside the palace. She must be afraid, and he didn’t want to add to her fears. ‘However, when Sir Enrique, Lord Rodrigo’s cousin, you understand, revealed he was planning to...er...to help you and your sisters escape, I decided that Lord Rodrigo and I should join him. We wanted to ensure all went smoothly.’
At first the Princess didn’t respond. In the east, the horizon was shading to dawn. As Inigo looked at it, he could feel those small fingers, clenching and unclenching on his sleeve.
‘My lord, I am sorry to have inconvenienced you,’ she said coolly. ‘Please be assured, you will be rewarded for your assistance.’
Inigo almost choked. She thought he wanted a reward? What kind of man did she think he was? ‘I want no reward.’ The only reward he craved was to return to Seville in one piece and get on with his life. ‘It is my pleasure to take you to Córdoba where you may join the other Princess.’
Her dark eyebrows snapped together. Her fingers dug into his arm. ‘My lord, you must remember there are three of us. Leonor went with your friend, Lord Rodrigo. Did you see Constanza?’
Inigo hesitated. ‘I am not sure I saw your other sister,’ he said carefully. Rodrigo had sworn to deal with Enrique. Inigo hoped nothing had gone amiss. He caught the gleam of white teeth; the Princess was biting her lip.
‘Constanza never left the palace? I could have sworn she was following.’ Her voice was small. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if she’d lost heart though, Constanza is, well, wary of change.’
‘It saddens you to think of her living alone in the palace.’
She shot him a startled look and nodded. ‘We have always been together.’
Inigo nudged Soldier into a walk. With the dogs no longer hot on their heels, speed was less important. It was just as well, the horses needed a change of pace. Hearing a stifled yawn, he said, ‘We shall rest soon, my lady.’
‘As you wish.’
Inigo was himself fatigued. His leg gave a twinge, a slight discomfort that was, he realised with a rueful smile, keeping him alert. And thank heaven for it, he must keep his wits about him until he had found somewhere safe for them to recover their strength. A secluded campsite would be better than nothing. It would have to be soon; the light was strengthening.
They set off again and Inigo was eyeing the terrain, peering into a small olive grove at the side of the road, when Princess Alba pointed.
‘My lord, look.’
A dilapidated shack took shape, half hidden by the trees. A shepherd’s hut, if he wasn’t mistaken.
‘Could we stop there?’
‘I wouldn’t risk it. It’s too near the road.’ He prepared to ride on when a faint, mewling sound caught his attention.
The Princess gripped his arm. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘Sounds like a cat,’ he said.
The Princess gripped his arm. ‘That is no cat.’ Her voice held a note of urgency. ‘It’s a baby. My lord, a baby is in distress, we must stop.’
Inigo looked at the Princess and back at the hut. It really was too close to the highway. ‘My lady, we can’t stop here.’
‘Yes, we can.’
Before Inigo realised what she was about, the Princess leaned back full against him, slipped lithely to the ground and hurried into the hut.
Exchanging a disbelieving glance with Guillen, Inigo handed him his reins. ‘Wait here, lad.’ He dismounted, jarring his injured leg as his boots hit the ground.
What the devil did she think she was doing, walking boldly into a shepherd’s hut dressed like a concubine from a harem? If anyone saw her, the entire area would be awash with rumour, and the world would quickly work out that one of Sultan Tariq’s runaway Princesses had come this way.
Inigo ducked into the shack, the roof was so low he couldn’t stand upright. Straw was strewn over a beaten earth floor and a box cradle stood by a crude bed. Smoke spiralled from a sullen fire and a blackened cooking pot stood on a nearby stone. It was all very primitive.
Save for the Princess, the hut was deserted. Almost. A baby was indeed crying, Inigo could see a chubby fist waving back and forth inside the cradle. He watched in disbelief as Princess Alba perched on the edge of the bed and reached for the baby.
‘Come to me, little one. Don’t cry,’ she murmured.
The door was ajar, and the first rays of the rising sun fell on the Princess’s face. Her long black hair hung about her—it was slightly dishevelled from their ride, yet it in no way detracted from her beauty. Princess Alba was every bit as lovely as Inigo had remembered. Her face was a perfect oval. As she looked down at the baby, her luxuriant eyelashes lay like dark crescents against her cheeks. Her skin looked smooth, there wasn’t a blemish in sight. Her mouth softened as she looked at the baby, it made her seem vulnerable in a way that was impossible to define.
Inigo forgot to breathe. Princess Alba was stunning. Gold gleamed at her throat, gemstones sparkled on her clothes and the sight of her cradling a baby in so humble a setting closed his throat. Such tenderness... His guts knotted with an emotion so primal he couldn’t name it.
Swallowing hard, he found his voice. ‘My lady, we must go on. We’re still in your father’s territory and we need to be discreet.’ He waved at her jewel-spangled clothes. ‘You are rather conspicuous. It is not safe for us here.’
Babe in arms, the Princess pushed to her feet. Her dark eyes sparked.
‘This child needs its mother, I will not leave until she returns.’
Inigo ran his hand round the back of his neck. The past few months had been hell. He’d done battle with her father’s army. He’d been thrown into prison with a leg wound that had festered. He’d survived the weary trudge from Salobreña to Granada, not to mention weeks of forced labour in the bramble-strewn crevasse outside the Alhambra Palace. He was tired and hungry, and his clothes were damp from the storm. Even so, he was not proof, it seemed, to the pleading in the Princess’s eyes.
‘My