Bride By Mistake by Anne Gracíe Page B

“You want your horses now,
señor
?”
    Luke considered it. “How far is it to the village?”
    “Just a few steps,” the boy assured him.
    “Is there an inn?”
    The boy laughed heartily at the idea. “The nearest inn is more than ten miles away,
señor
. But if it is a drink you want… or a bed for the night?”
    “A bed.”
    “Then you must stay at my home,” the boy said. “I am Miguel Zabala, and I am the man of the family.”
    He was small and skinny and barely ten years old, but Luke didn’t laugh. “Take me there and we’ll see,” Luke told him.
    He soon learned Miguel’s “few steps” were the estimate of a large-minded spirit, but Luke didn’t mind the walk down a narrow, dusty track. The boy skipped along beside him, chattering incessantly, part travelogue of the places they could see from the road, and part his views on life and the various people he’d known.
    Luke listened with half an ear.
    Isabella’s reaction to his arrival had been a little disturbing. It was clear to him that she wanted the marriage as little as he had. A situation that could not be allowed to continue.
    His title hadn’t impressed her in the least. Well, she was the daughter of a
conde
.
    She’d seen through him at once. He did need an heir. There was no shame in that. It was his duty to his family name. Bearing an ancient name herself, she should understand that.
    And if nothing else, duty would have been drummed into her at the convent. Particularly the wifely duties: to love, honor, and obey.
    They were stuck with each other and would have to make the best of it. He needed to reconcile her to their situation, and quickly. He had no intention of putting up with tantrums from a reluctant bride.
    His own attraction to her was lukewarm at best—not that she’d shown herself to advantage, with that ghastly old-fashioned dress with the frills and flounces, and that hairstyle, and the paint. But that didn’t matter. He’d give her no cause to regret their marriage. He’d treat her well and be a faithful husband to her. And by the time children came along, they might even have found love of a sort. Many people did.
    He thought of her odd golden brown eyes staring out from behind the powder and paint like an angry little hawk hidden in a posy. She might have changed out of all recognition, but those eyes of hers were exactly as he remembered, especially when they flashed with temper or were drowning with hurt.
    The one part of her that was without artifice, reminding him of the brave little girl he’d married. Change was inevitable, he supposed, after eight years. He would have to get to know the young woman she’d become. And she would have to accustom herself to the man he’d become.
    A new start for them both, to begin at dinner.
    They rounded a rocky bluff, and a small village came into view: a handful of ragged-looking cottages huddled on the edge of the mountain. Not a prosperous place.
    Miguel pointed to the smallest and meanest-looking house of all. “I will tell my mother you are coming,” he said and ran ahead.
    Luke resigned himself to a night spent in the company of bedbugs and fleas. He’d had worse during the war.
    By the time Luke reached the cottage, the mother was waiting in the doorway. She was fairly young, not yet thirty. Two small children peered out shyly from behind her skirts. Miguel, with a freshly washed face, introduced them, then took Luke around the side of the house so he could see what good care he’d taken of Luke’s horses.
    They were tethered in a kind of open lean-to shed and had been given clean straw and water. The tack was hanging from nails driven into the wall, and the horses had been rubbed down. Luke nodded his approval, and Miguel led him back to the front door of the cottage, stepping aside with a flourish to allow Luke to enter.
    The cottage was gloomy inside, but once Luke’s eyes adjusted, he saw that though poor, it was clean and neat. The only smell he could