Page 27 of Eternal Craving

I smiled. “If you’re going to tell me this is not what it seems…”

“Like to watch, do you?”

“You’ll have to make your indiscretion up to me.”

Salvador nibbled on a fingernail. This man had faced the most ferocious of armies and yet with me, he yielded.

“Why didn’t you knock?” He reached for his trousers.

I snatched them out of his hand. “And spoil your fun?”

He rested his hands on his hips and faced me, his gaze dropping.

“I’m mortified.”

“Why?” I asked. “You of all people deserve anything you desire.”

He gave me a long stare.

Outside, leaves dangled from a crooked branch and tapped against the window.

“I have to go,” I said. “Thank you for an enlightening evening.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Daumia.”

I delayed answering to torture him, handing him back his trousers.

“I do believe you will,” I said finally, heading for the door.

“Will I see you again?”

I turned to him with a smile. “Without a doubt.”

Chapter Twelve

Felipe’s appointed guest room was easy to find.

The bed hadn’t been slept in and an unopened bottle of white wine rested on the mantelpiece. Beside it, a candle had burned down to the wick next to a bowl of fresh water. I leaned over it and splashed my face, then used the towel folded next to the bowl.

Felipe could have the house. Miguel and I would take the horses and rebuild elsewhere, start over and make a new life for ourselves. Sobering up, my head cleared, making the decision obvious. My family had been virtually wiped out, and I wasn’t prepared to lose Alicia on account of my pride.

Miguel would understand – I’d make it up to him.

Looking around for Felipe’s personal items, I noticed there weren’t any and doubted he had even been here, or perhaps the servant who’d pointed to this room had been mistaken.

Through the window, I heard hooves clip-clopping along and a rumbling carriage. I peered out of the window and saw Felipe climbing in, ignoring the butler who closed the coach door behind him. With the crack of a whip, the carriage jerked forward and sped off.

I flew out of the bedroom, down the stairs and through the house. Dodging staff, I bolted through the kitchen and came face to face with the man I’d caught Salvador making love to in bed. He was dressed as a chef. I threw him a wide smile, and he beamed back. With a leap in my step, I headed outside.

Within minutes, I’d found the stables and saddled my stallion. I threw a coin to the groom who’d taken care of him and galloped out of the barn. The small amount of money I had would have to be enough to feed both my horse and me.

Fear of losing sight of Felipe’s carriage ensured my focus, and I lived up to my reputation of being reckless.

The unforgiving rain continued to batter me. It was impossible to remember ever being dry.

My current existence teetered upon the edge of some exquisite oblivion, a life forged from the very embers of ruin – born of ash and suffering, crafted with a defiant will. And this unholy temptation had seized me like a divine madness. Yet something inevitable beckoned, coaxing me with a rapture too intoxicating to deny; fate whispered my name through the sweet delirium of revenge.

Within a day, I was in Vigo. The harsh climate was a contrast to being in Santiago De Compostela. This town was somewhat larger and busier.