The Bride

“I can tolerate it, though tea is preferable, but it was only available on occasion. The Mother Superior said coffee was not a healthy drink and she forbade it to be purchased for the convent kitchen, except in small amounts.”

“You may have whatever you desire at our home when we arrive there,” Rafael told her. “You may have anything it is in my power to provide for you.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “Why are you so generous with me? You just told me I was…what was it you said? Oh, yes, you told me I was burdensome. Not a flattering description, to my way of thinking.”

“I thought of something entirely different when I told you that,” he said with a laugh, a sound that was echoed by Manuel, who had apparently noticed his employer’s discomfort while riding during the last hour or so.

“I haven’t tried to be a burden to you. But then I haven’t put forth any effort to make your life easy, either. I suspect you’ll just have to put up with me the way I am.”

“I’m looking forward to just that,” Rafael said, bowing his head as if in tribute.

“My father used to tell me I was a troublemaker when I was a child. But our cook defended me. She said I was too smart for my own good, and my father did not understand me.”

“I’ll be sure towork at that, Isabella. Understanding you will be my priority for the next fifty years or so.”

Chapter Six

THE FOOD WAS MORE of the same, less palatable than he would find at his table on the ranch, but the men didn’t seem to find it without value, and Isabella ate what was put before her. A thick piece of bread, a length of sausage—held over the fire until the skin split from the heat—and a chunk of cheese made up her meal and she dutifully chewed and swallowed until it was gone.

Two of the men had worked at setting up a small tent for her use. Hers and Rafael’s it appeared, for his saddlebags were placed inside the flap, and his blanket roll was spread on the ground, taking up over half the space available inside the small structure.

It was fully dark, the moon hung low on the horizon and the sound of night birds in the forest played a mournful melody in her ears as Isabella was led to the tent and instructed to crawl within. She sent Rafael an imploring look that was archly ignored as he held the flap wide enough for her to affect easy passage. She crawled to where his blanket roll lay and took one of his coverings for herself, spreading it beside his and settling herself on it, wishing for another quilt of some sort to keep out the night air.

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