Disclaimers: Fireworks owns the copyrights to the characters from the Queen of Swords. The story plot and other characters are copyright to the author: Maril Swan
Rating: PG
Feedback: yes, please. Your comments and suggestions help keep me inspired to write these stories.

Note: the inspiration for this vignette comes from a conversation with Eliza who has inspired me many times over the past months. Thanks, Eliza.

The Escorial
by Maril Swan

Part Three of Six

Chapter 5
An Uneasy Peace

The heavy oak door closed noiselessly behind her. Tessa stood at the back of the chapel for several minutes, inhaling the warm familiar fragrance of incense and candlewax. For as long as she could remember these scents had a soothing effect on her. Just being in the chapel uplifted her spirit, seeming to transport her to a different place where she felt herself enfolded in the secure embrace of the Church. As she let the peace of the chapel descend upon her, Tessa glanced around, noting she was alone. Ahead was the altar with its twinkling red lamp, reminding her she was in the presence of her Creator. Clerestory windows of stained glass softly illuminated frescoes of the lives of the saints along the walls and etching into high relief the marble Stations of the Cross. Rows of carved wooden pews stood on either side of the main aisle.

A memory rose up and suddenly she was a child again, trying very hard to walk properly and not stumble over the long hem of her First Communion gown. She was once more in the cathedral in Monterrey where the Bishop awaited the young communicants at the altar, dressed in his elegant satin robes and tall golden miter. Around him, a haze of fragrant smoke swirled as an acolyte swung the incense-burner. She had kept her eyes straight ahead at the long line of other girls also dressed in white with lace veils like tiny brides, nervous of making a mistake. As she passed her mother, she had turned and smiled at Tessa — a smile of pride and love. Tessa once again was warmed in that glow of love, remembering her mother's face as it was then. That was the year her mother had died, when Tessa was seven.

The memory vanished leaving only a vast emptiness in its place. She suddenly felt her aloneness very keenly — all the people she loved were far away; she was completely isolated in this place with only two friends amid all the sycophants and hangers-on who lived within the palace.

Abruptly, she shook herself, refusing to wallow in self-pity. Tessa moved toward the altar, her leather shoes making a loud tapping sound on the marble floor, echoing in the silence of the chapel. She quieted her steps, wondering as she did why it seemed necessary when there was no one else to hear.

Reaching the front, Tessa settled onto the kneeler of the first pew and bowed her head. She tried to clear her mind of its confusion of emotions and thoughts, and devote herself to prayer. It seemed impossible. Her rebellious brain refused to concentrate. Tessa raised her eyes to the statue of the Blessed Virgin in an alcove next to the altar, focussing on her beatific face and upraised hands that seemed to be pointing to heaven. Following the direction of those hands, she let her eyes wander over the ornate paintings on the domed ceiling. For long moments, she was lost in the beauty of that art then she returned her gaze to the altar. Forcing her mind to prayer, she began to recite the Pater Noster. The sound of the chapel door opening and closing broke into her concentration but she determinedly shut out the intrusion.

Muffled footsteps came closer as someone moved toward the front of the chapel. Tessa forced herself not to turn to see who had entered. She heard the newcomer kneel in the pew behind and tried to ignore her curiosity while focussing on her prayers. Finally, attaining the composure she was seeking, Tessa prayed for patience with Estella, for the safety of her father and Marta and especially Antonio, and for herself.

Someone suddenly leaned near her ear, making her start, and whispered, "When you feel you have done enough penance, meet me in the garden."

Tessa turned in time to see Baltasar marching toward the back of the chapel and open the door. When he was gone, she faced the altar again, her mind more disquieted than before.

*******

Tessa sat on the hard bench to collect her thoughts. Baltasar's sudden intrusion had unsettled her just as she was finding that peaceful place where she could rest her spirit. He was a disturbing presence in her life these days. For the past few weeks she had met him, by accident usually, in various places around the palace or grounds. Sometimes she had been walking with Juliana, other times just meandering aimlessly through the halls with Estella in tow behind. The previous week, he had encountered her just as the mid-day meal was finished and she was returning to her apartment for the siesta. She smiled as she remembered his playful manner.

"Are you going to take your siesta, or would you like to do something more interesting?" His bright blue eyes twinkled and his copper-coloured moustache stretched as he smiled. "I would like to invite you to take a ride with me around the park."

Tessa had hesitated, uncertain. "My duenna does not ride." The look of disappointment on his face was so keen, she relented, throwing caution to the wind. "I am sure it will be all right as we will always be in full view of others in the park."

She agreed to meet him and hurried to her apartment to dig out her riding togs. Estella had protested weakly about not being able to do her duty, but Tessa quieted her fears. "We are going to be on horses the whole time, Estella. Even Marta would not object." Except, she reminded herself, Marta would insist on coming along for the ride.

Very soon, she was mounted on a fine Arab, black as jet, dainty and quick to the rein. Baltasar had put a regular saddle on her horse for which she was grateful. She had never liked riding sidesaddle. At first, they walked the horses, then as they moved further into the less frequented parts of the grounds, Tessa kneed her mount into a trot.

It had been awhile since she had ridden and the thrill came back with full force as she urged the horse into a canter. The trees along the path flashed by as she laughed with the exhilaration and freedom of her headlong rush through the park. Turning slightly, she saw Baltasar trying to catch up on his big bay horse. Tessa pressed the flanks of her Arab and it stretched out into a full gallop. Everything seemed to blur as she controlled the horse's flight, keeping to the narrow path and watching for obstacles. The path crossed a stream over which was a narrow bridge ahead. She guided the horse away from the bridge and splashed through the water, sending up spray on all sides.

Finally, Baltasar had caught up with her and grabbed the reins, pulling the horses to a halt. At first he seemed angry as he slid off his mount. The horses shivered and blew, their huge chests pumping like bellows. Then he laughed and held his hands out to assist her down from the saddle.

"Perhaps I should have made it clear that a ride in the park is usually done at the walk," he said with mock sternness. "You surprise me, Maria Teresa. Not many women ride so well." His eyes darkened as he gazed at her earnestly.

Tessa laughed, breathless with excitement. "It has been a long time since I had such a good ride. Thank you, Baltasar." She brushed at her hair, moving the loose strands away from her face. Impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

The effect on him seemed electrifying. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her close. "You look wild as a Gypsy," he whispered as he moved his lips near hers. "What a strange girl you are."

Tessa quickly placed her hand over his lips and moved away. "We should return. My duenna will be worrying about me." She remounted her horse and started to walk it back along the path toward the palace.

Now, as she sat quietly in the chapel, Tessa pondered over his invitation. Was accepting his company being disloyal to Antonio? She was doing nothing wrong in enjoying the small pleasure of his friendship. Yet, a feeling of guilt worried at her. Was she enjoying his company too much, looking forward to seeing him too much? No, she reassured herself, her heart belonged to Antonio. Nothing would change that.

She thought, 'I will wait a few more minutes so he doesn't think I'm too anxious.' But after a few more seconds, she gave up pretending she was not impatient to be outside and in the company of someone who seemed to care about her. With a respectful genuflect, and a last apologetic look at the statue of the Virgin, Tessa moved quickly to the back of the chapel and practically fled to the nearest exit into the Escorial park.

A strong wind blew through the gardens, bending the slender willows and scattering leaves and blossoms onto the verdant expanse of the lawns. Tessa started down the path into the park, wondering where Baltasar was. As she passed a hedge, her shoulders were suddenly grabbed from behind. She jabbed her elbow in her attacker's ribs and he let go with a pained grunt.

Turning quickly, she faced Baltasar who was shamefacedly rubbing his chest. "Do you always greet your friends like that?" he jested.

"Only when they attack me," she retorted. The defence technique was one that Marta's brother, Rafael, had shown her years ago. It was the first time she had ever had to use it and was pleased that it worked so well.

"From now on, I will confine my attacks to the gentler kind," he said taking her hand and kissing the back. Still holding her hand, he tucked her arm under his and led her back onto the path. For several minutes they strolled in silence. She was acutely aware of the intimacy of his arm near her breast but to move away would be to draw his attention it, so she tried to ignore the pleasant sensation.

At length, he said, "I know so little about you. Tell me about your childhood, how you fared in the war in Madrid. I want to know everything."

Warmed by his friendly curiosity, Tessa began to describe her life in Madrid, omitting the parts she felt she should not reveal such as the fencing lessons. She told him all about Marta, realising as she did how much she missed her companion. The details of her life in California were rather hazy, but Tessa recalled as much as she could for him. He asked her about Antonio, and Tessa told him how they had grown up together and fallen in love, and that Antonio was in the army.

"Antonio is a lucky man. He must write you often to tell you how lucky he is and how much he loves you," Baltasar said sombrely. The regret in his voice was evident.

"I have not heard from him in over six months," Tessa admitted. "I am sure it is difficult to get letters through from wherever he is." A cloud covered the sun for a few seconds, like the pall that suddenly overlay her spirits as she wondered why he had not written.

"He never writes and still you are faithful to him," Baltasar said with a raise of his eyebrows. "You are an unusual girl, Maria Teresa. He does not appreciate you. Not as I would."

"You don't know anything about him," Tessa said defensively.

"I only know I wish I was him, to have that place in your heart that he holds so lightly."

The conversation seemed to be taking too intimate and dangerous a turn, and Tessa searched for a topic less personal, less troubling. As they passed the herb gardens, she pointed out and named many plants and their medicinal properties that she had learned from Marta. While walking through the rose garden, she showed him the varieties that grew in her own garden in Madrid.

At first, he seemed amused by her erudition, but finally he said, "You should leave a man something to teach you, Tessa. Did your mother never tell you a man likes to feel he is smarter than a woman? It seems wrong for a woman to flaunt her knowledge so openly."

Tessa looked away quickly to hide her annoyance. "If a man resents a woman's intelligence, there is something wrong with the man, not the woman," she replied tersely as she withdrew her arm from his.

She realised with amusement she had just reiterated something Marta had said to her many years before when she was about ten years old. Her cousin, Ricardo, had been visiting and had brought his chess set with him. He was a few years older than Tessa and wanted to show her how to play. They set up the board on the dining table. After a few games, she understood the moves and from then on, beat him continuously. Finally, he packed up his chessmen and board and huffed off to his room. Tessa called him a crybaby and a spoilsport as he retreated from the dining room. She had sat for several minutes almost regretting she had not let him win as she now had no one to play with. Going to Marta, she had explained what happened. Marta had leaned down to her and said those same lines that she had just repeated to Baltasar. They were still true, Tessa thought. 'Why should I pretend to be stupid to batten a man's ego?'

"I think I have had enough fresh air, Baltasar. Let us go back," she said as she turned toward the path leading back to the palace.

He caught her hand and pressed it to his chest. "I have insulted you, and I humbly apologize." He kissed her hand and looked earnestly into her eyes. "It is a pleasure to be in the company of an interesting and intelligent woman. And one who is also beautiful." The wind blew her loose hair around her face and he gently brushed the tresses out of her eyes. A few errant strands caught on her lip. With meticulous care, he lifted the fine dark hair, allowing his touch to linger on her cheek. He moved his hand to the nape of her neck and pulled her slowly toward him.

For a heartbeat, he hesitated then kissed her. Gently, persuasively, sensuously. She was not prepared for the sudden assault on her senses. Nearly a year had passed since she had kissed Antonio goodbye. All her longing and fear and passion has gone into that last kiss as they had clung to each other fiercely. The feeling then had been bittersweet, almost angry as the kiss had ended and Antonio had slipped out her bedroom window and gone to war. How different this felt. Transcendent, light, all-encompassing. As if each particle of her being had suddenly come to life.

Confused, she pushed him away. "This is wrong," she said huskily.

"Nothing done in the name of love is wrong," he said, trying to pull her back.

"This is," she said harshly as she escaped his grasp and rushed away from him.

Chapter 6
A Family Affair

The tall straight figure of her uncle drew her attention immediately as he paced back and forth near the fountain. Its joyful splashing as it sent up rainbows of spray, contrasted singularly with Alejandro's troubled demeanour. He turned abruptly at her approach. Even the welcoming smile she gave him did not relieve the severity of his countenance.

Tessa was reminded how much he looked like her father, except that Alejandro was clean shaven. The same lofty expression and same dark eyes that distinguished her father now swept over her as she stepped to her uncle's side.

He had sent his servant into the palace to ask her to meet him outside, away from the prying ears of servants and others. Now as Tessa moved quickly to embrace him, she wondered nervously what was wrong. Surely, he could not have heard about the flamenco already. That was only yesterday. His return embrace was perfunctory and rigid, and he gently pushed her away.

"What have I been hearing about you?" he said without preamble. "Your remarks to the Queen are reported everywhere in the palace." Her uncle had some position in the Spanish government which Tessa did not entirely comprehend. She knew it had something to do with being a liaison with the British government, but his actual job seemed to be a secret. He came and went from the Escorial frequently, and she never knew when he might be in residence.

He took her by the shoulders and stared seriously into her eyes. "Tessa, you must grow up. This is not a play garden. This is the royal palace where certain kinds of behaviour are expected ...no, demanded." He sighed heavily, releasing her. "Rafael should have listened to me when I said you should have been raised by our sister, Damona. She would have taught you how to behave like a lady." He shook his head. "Instead he insisted on that Gypsy woman, Marta. I do not know what he was thinking."

A defence of Marta sprang to her lips but she clamped her jaw against uttering it. She knew it would only make him more angry. Instead she said, "Uncle Alejandro, if my presence here is such a burden, perhaps you could get the Queen to release me from my year as her lady-in-waiting." Scarcely daring to breathe, she waited hopefully for his answer.

"I have already made that request, and Her Majesty insists you must stay. She says she is sure she can make something of you in spite of your strange upbringing." For the first time since he had arrived, Alejandro smiled. Impulsively, he gathered her into a warm embrace, and laughed. "She does not know what she has taken on, mi querida. Even as a little girl, you were wilful and hot-headed." He pushed her back slightly, regarding her with fondness in his eyes. "My son, Ricardo, was always a little afraid of you. Did you know that? Even though he was older and bigger, you scared him."

Alejandro released her and straightened, resting his boot on the low wall of the fountain and gazing meditatively at its bouncing spray for a few minutes. He sighed deeply. "You should be married, Tessa. Then I could answer your father's letters with something hopeful instead of vague promises. He wants grandchildren to take over the hacienda, a strong man to help him in that wild land. My Ricardo has already given me two grandchildren, one of them a boy." He beamed proudly. "Ricardo will fill his home with children so the Alvarado name will continue. What about your father? Do you not owe him that much, Tessa? To know his name will not die with him, that his line will continue?"

"Uncle Alejandro, I do plan to marry. As soon as I find someone to love. You would not want me to marry someone I did not love." Though the day was warm and sunny, Tessa began to feel chilled. The conversation was taking a turn she did not like.

"If you do not find someone soon, Tessa, then as your nearest male relative, I must begin to make arrangements for you."

Could she be forced to marry against her will? Tessa did not know, but it seemed possible. Many of those racy French novels that the Queen seemed to prefer told of heroines escaping into their true loves' arms, running away from marriages arranged to further the family fortunes. Was there an element of truth to those stories?

She took a deep breath and said, "Actually, Uncle, I have been considering entering the convent."

Her uncle turned quickly, his eyebrows upraised. "What?" he exclaimed. "Since when have you been thinking of this?"

"Oh, for a while," Tessa answered airily. 'Maybe a minute,' she thought trying to restrain her smile at her uncle's horrified expression. "Perhaps that is why I have not married. I may have a vocation, a calling to the religious life."

"Ridiculous!" he snapped. "You have no calling. Look at you, Tessa. Can you see yourself – a beautiful and spirited woman – hidden away in some convent? This is childish nonsense." He wrapped his arms around his chest and glared at her truculently.

Tessa put on her most innocent face, widening her eyes as she returned his stare. "If I told you half of what goes on in this place, you would be shocked. Here I am, daily surrounded by such temptations, Uncle, I dare not tell you."

"I know what goes on here," he growled. "I used my influence to get you in here to give you some social standing, to make you a better marriage match. Temptations! Bah! You are too intelligent to be tempted and too clever to be taken in. If I did not think so, I would never have arranged this for you. Hundreds of girls would trade places with you in a second, Tessa. You have been given a great opportunity to meet the right people so later, when you are in Madrid, you can travel in the best social circles."

"I don't see myself in that life, Uncle Alejandro. I see myself doing good for others somehow. I really think I have a vocation." She turned aside to hide her smile as he scowled at her.

She grasped his hand, warming to her idea. "Just think, Uncle. Sister Maria Teresa." Raising her eyes heavenward, she continued, "What a wonderful life it would be, wearing that black habit, walking sedately through those convent halls. Or maybe," she added excitedly, "I would become a missionary sister, working among the natives of Africa or South America. Perhaps even in a leper colony."

Her uncle's expression darkened. "Do not think you are taking me in with this ruse, Tessa. I know you too well. You have no calling to the religious life. You are just trying to stop me from pressing you about marriage."

"Well, I wouldn't be the first woman to take refuge in the convent to escape being forced into a loveless marriage." Tessa met his eyes candidly and he looked down for a second.

"Who said anything about a loveless marriage?" he asked, spreading his hands widely.

"You did, Uncle. You said if I did not soon find a husband, you would find one for me. That sounds loveless to me."

He seemed at a loss for words momentarily as he stared at her, then he said quietly, "Your wishes would, of course, be consulted in the matter."

Tessa glanced away toward the gardens, musing aloud, "Perhaps the Carmelites, or maybe the Benedictines."

"All right!" he said loudly, making her start. "I will not insist on your marrying right now. Just do not make any arrangements to enter a convent. I will oppose it in any case."

"This is one decision a woman can make on her own, Uncle," Tessa said with quiet resolve. 'Not that I would really consider it for more than a minute,' she added to herself.

"Madre de dios, Tessa. I almost pity the man who marries you." He laughed suddenly. "In fact, you are very much like your mother. She had a will of iron when she wanted something."

The mention of her mother shocked her slightly. "You really think so, Uncle?" she asked, pleased by the comparison. Suddenly, he was not her adversary any longer but her beloved uncle whom she had known most of her life. It seemed wrong to keep him thinking she had no marriage prospects when he worried about it so much.

"I do have someone in mind to marry, Uncle," she said. Her cheeks warmed as he grasped her hands, a very surprised expression on his face.

"Why did you not say so before? Where is he? How may I meet him?"

"His name is Antonio, and he is in the British Army with Lord Wellington. When he returns from the war, we have promised we will marry." Her face grew hotter as she bore the penetrating gaze Alejandro focussed on her. He did not seem pleased.

"Does your father know of this engagement?" When she shook her head, he exploded with wrath. A vein throbbed in the temple of his florid face. "You have made a secret betrothal to someone your father does not know? Why, Tessa?"

His sudden fury made her recoil a little. She had never seen him so angry and she found it unnerving, especially as it was directed at her. "Antonio did not want me to be tied to a formal engagement in case he was badly hurt in the war. He thought it would be easier on both our families if we waited to announce it when he returned. I did not agree, Uncle, but that is what Antonio wanted. I would ask you to keep this secret for me. Antonio is a good man; he is honourable and kind. If you met him, you would approve."

She smiled coyly at him and took his arm to lead him along the path into the maze of hedges and flowering shrubs. She began to regale him with palace gossip, tidbits of her life there, anything to distract his mind from worrying over her marriage prospects. At length, he laughed, somewhat mollified and seemed to be enjoying her conversation. The path they followed wound around the Escorial to the front where an enormous pool reflected the majestic structure on its shimmering surface.

Alejandro paused and Tessa observed him as he gazed at the grandeur of the Escorial with the morning light shining upon its hundreds of windows, the geometric precision of its architecture. Built during the Renaissance, it was meant to signify the union of humanity and religion. Tessa enjoyed the way the reflection on the pond softened its sharp edges, making the image waver like a mirage.

He took her arm again and they began to retrace their steps toward the palace. As they approached the entrance, Tessa halted.

"Uncle, is this not the month when Marta receives her annual stipend? She joined our household in October, and each year Papa sends her the stipend on that anniversary."

"Tessa, this financial business is not your concern. Where is Marta? I will give her the note myself."

A sudden worry assailed her. "Marta is with her band for now, Uncle Alejandro. Somewhere south of Madrid in Andalusia." She explained the Queen's order and Marta's departure. Her uncle's dark brow knit as he frowned slightly.

"If she is no longer working for us, Tessa, I hardly think she should receive her pay." Alejandro said reasonably. He started off again, but Tessa detained him with a hand on his arm.

"Marta has served us for over eleven years with no holidays, scarcely any days off. Surely, we can reward her for her loyalty. As soon as I return to Madrid, so will Marta. She deserves some consideration, Uncle."

"Your father entrusted me with his financial affairs and I cannot justify this expense for a servant who is not working." As if that ended the matter, he again tried to move toward the palace entrance.

"If you do not give her the money, I will ...from my allowance." Tessa drew herself up and raised her chin defiantly, meeting his startled gaze without flinching. "Of course, that will leave me without funds to manage here. And it is expensive ... what with new dresses and shoes for the parties. Perhaps I can borrow money from friends," she added with a pert smile.

Alejandro's face flushed and he spluttered, "You will do no such thing, Tessa!" With a chagrined look, he added, "If it means so much to you, I will send her the note for her stipend."

"It will have to be cash, Uncle. A note would be of no use to Marta." Tessa held her breath, expecting another storm of rejection.

He shook his head, evidently giving up. "Cash then," he said with a chuckle. "Madre mio, what a headstrong woman you have turned out to be." Alejandro pulled a leather purse from his jacket and counted out a small pile of reales.

Tessa was dismayed when she saw how little it was. She had no idea what Marta was paid, but she had expected it would be more than this pittance.

"I spend more than this on dresses in a month!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Surely a year's work is worth more than this." A sense of injustice lodged in her heart as she thought of Marta, working so hard uncomplainingly and receiving so little for it.

Alejandro sighed deeply. "That is why women should stay out of men's business. You have no head for it. Marta has never complained of ill treatment. Why should you?"

Tessa knew why Marta never complained. Cash money of any amount was prized, especially since she probably sent much of it to her mother.

"Christmas is coming soon, Uncle. Let us add something extra as a gift." She knew as soon as she said it, he would oppose her on this. He had evidently made enough concessions. 'I will send it myself,' she thought as she observed his jaw clench belligerently.

***********

Juliana chattered on brightly, describing her home in Galicia, their gardens and their olive groves. As she rambled on, Tessa observed with a smile how different she was when they were together. In the Queen's chamber, Juliana hardly ever spoke but with Tessa she was animated and vivacious. A few young men in the palace had cast their eyes in her direction but Juliana confided that she was in love with a young man who lived near their hacienda in Galicia.

Though the two young women had exchanged girlish confidences, Tessa had withheld many things about her own life in Madrid. Juliana was not yet ready for some of her stories, Tessa decided with an inner amusement. The shy Juliana would have a hard time believing that Tessa had spent nearly a year with a gitano band, or taken fencing lessons dressed as a boy, or acted as an occasional courier for a spy network in Madrid during the War. Sometimes, Tessa could hardly believe these things herself.

Running footsteps coming from behind made Tessa turn, then grimace slightly when she saw who it was. It had been nearly a week since she had seen him. Baltasar caught up, breathing hard and fell into step beside his sister. Tessa was struck by the similarity between the two siblings. Both had the same high wide forehead and clear blue eyes, the same oval shape of face. Where Juliana's fine hair shone in the sun like red gold, Baltasar's hair was the colour of tarnished copper and curled closely to his head. Juliana's eyebrows and even eyelashes were the same shade as her hair, and on her cheeks was a sprinkling of freckles. She always carried a parasol like the one she was now sharing with Tessa to keep the sun from darkening her freckles. With her pretty patterned frock, Tessa thought she looked like a tiny porcelain doll.

Baltasar broke the brief silence as they strolled together. "Juliana, what does it take to regain a friendship if one has offended his friend?" With a significant look at Tessa, he turned his attention to his young sister.

"It depends on the offense, Baltasar," Juliana said reflectively. "Some things are unforgivable. But perhaps a simple apology might suffice." She smiled as she slid a sidelong glance at Tessa.

Immediately, Baltasar planted himself on one knee in front of Tessa with his hands out in supplication. "Please forgive me," he pleaded in mock earnest. "I humbly beg your forgiveness."

Juliana giggled and tried to drag him to his feet. "Get up, Baltasar," she said, her cheeks reddening. "You look ridiculous."

Tessa stepped past him and continued to walk. She had to admit she had missed his lively companionship. It mitigated the loneliness she often felt as the hours sometimes hung heavily when she was not required in the Queen's chamber. He had shown her many parts of the Escorial and palace that she had never seen, including the Monastery. He seemed to have accumulated a vast store of knowledge of the history of the place which kept Tessa fascinated for hours as they strolled through the corridors and rooms. She enjoyed his company and looked forward to seeing him. But that kiss had taken their relationship in a direction she had no wish to follow. Why could he not have left it at a warm friendship instead of insisting on trying to become a lover?

Her mind preoccupied, she nearly stumbled over him as he dropped to his knee again in front of her. "Tessa, I apologize. It will not happen again."

He did look ridiculous and other strollers on the path were starting to point and laugh. Tessa relented with a smile. "All right. I forgive you. Now please get up. You're making a scene that will be all over the palace in seconds." She held out her hand to help him up, and received a warm squeeze in return.

Baltasar's delighted smile warmed her and Juliana looked radiantly happy. Perhaps, Tessa thought, she is still hoping I might marry her brother. Despite her misgivings, Tessa was glad to have his friendship again. He was so charming and exciting to be with.

Continued in Part Four of Six