Passionate Pursuit Read Online Free

you may rest, poor man.” She stroked his other thumb and winked.
    He cringed inwardly.
    The young women chattered without pause about his health and need to rest. Each agreed with everything he’d told them earlier. Curiously, no one mentioned the months or years he’d require before wedding anyone. Their mamás watched closely, smiling or frowning at their daughters’ behavior.
    A sharp rap on the door interrupted the scene, saving him. He hoped. He shouted above the others, “Come in.”
    Nuncio slipped inside, his expression neutral, as a servant’s should be. His eyes however…
    The old devil enjoyed Tomás’s pain.
    “Forgive me for interrupting.”
    He didn’t sound sorry in the least.
    “Refreshments are served.” Nuncio threw open the door and gestured to the dining hall.
    Inez placed her hand on Tomás’s left forearm for him to lead her to their meal. “You must eat well to keep up your strength.”
    He prayed she wouldn’t feed him each bite to make certain he’d had enough.
    Zita rested her hand on his right forearm. “Our family cook has many wonderful recipes, hearty dishes to keep a man strong, preparing him for anything.” She winked again. “I can share them with you later.”
    Before he could decline, everyone spoke at once.
    Tomás plodded toward the dining hall, a lamb going to slaughter. Trunks lined the castle entrance. Surely, these women hadn’t planned to spend the night, or worse, the entire week. Staying until they’d worn him down, much like the monarchs’ battle plan against the Moors.
    He would have given anything to be in an armed conflict now. Queen Isabella had relocated the Castilian court to Jaen on Granada’s border. There she’d wait, while Spain’s invading army pushed toward their enemy with a legion of fifteen thousand men on horseback and eighty thousand on foot, the force led by King Ferdinand.
    That meet Tomás would readily enjoy.
    This though…
    Given what Cook had prepared, the meal might never end. Roasted fowl, pork, mutton, and beef filled one table in the cavernous dining hall, capable of accommodating a hundred men and certainly twenty women.
    He dragged to his place at the head of the long table designed to seat thirty.
    Inez directed a servant to pull out a chair for him, as one would for a man more decrepit than Nuncio.
    Tomás wrested the chair from the female servant who was as broad as Señora Cisneros. “I need no assistance.”
    “Strong men never do.” Zita waved away the aged servant she’d called over.
    Tomás waited for the ladies to sit.
    Galina, a duke’s third daughter, and Damaris, a count’s fifth child, glared at each other. They’d chosen the same chair, two down from his, with Zita and Ines having claimed those closest to where he would sit.
    Before the young woman tore hair or clothing, Tomás gestured to the chair across from them. “Damaris, sit over there.”
    She scowled. Her mother pinched her arm. Damaris’s frown transformed to a sweet smile. “Of course.”
    She rammed her shoulder into Galina’s. The other señoritas knocked elbows and stepped on each other’s toes, accidentally or on purpose, while they gained their seats, then daintily allowed the servants to push them toward the table.
    Nuncio marched to Tomás side and leaned in. “Is all well?”
    “Trunks are in the entrance hall. Why?”
    “Many of your guests traveled great distances to be here.”
    They should have stayed away. Now that they’d arrived, they should leave quickly for their own castles or someone else’s before nightfall. “How long will they be here?”
    “As long as they wish. Remember, their families are your allies.”
    Tomás had never experienced such vulnerability or aching loneliness. He sank to his seat and turned at a flash of red.
    Beatriz.
    No. Another servant, whose name he couldn’t recall, her face, form, and manner equally forgettable. He sagged into his chair and gestured for Nuncio to lean down to him.
    Nuncio