Sword and dagger were de rigueur, and both of Niall’s blades were of the finest Toledo steel. The hilts, however, were gold, and heavily jeweled in diamonds and rubies. Encircling his neck and spilling down onto his chest was a heavy gold chain with a large gold, diamond, and ruby medallion depicting a raised winged grif- fon.
The women eyed his broad chest and well-turned legs and sighed behind their fans. How on earth, they wondered, did that meek little milksop catch such a man? It was said that the couple would remain on Mallorca for several months before journeying to London and the court of the young new English queen, Elizabeth. Perhaps in that time they might have the opportunity to offer their charms to the handsome Lord Burke? They would show him what an error it was to wed in haste.
The ceremony ended, and with the bishop’s permission Niall tenderly brushed the lips of his bride. Her shining eyes and sweet blush told him how happy she was. Smiling, he tucked her small hand in his arm and swept her down the aisle of the cathedral, back across the square, and into the governor’s villa. Soon they were greeting their guests.
The Conde had spared no expense in the preparation of his only child’s bridal feast. The tables groaned with sides of beef, whole young roasted lambs and kids, larded ducks, whole swans in aspic, lemoned and gingered capons. There were pigeon and lark pies with their flaky crusts steaming, and huge bowls of paella, red lobster bits and green olives showing brilliantly against the saffroned yellow rice. There were platters of boiled shrimp in white wine and herbs, a tub of raw oysters, platters of new green scallions, and tiny red love apples. Great loaves of white bread, both lean and long and fat and round, had been placed at intervals down the board. One whole table had been set aside for sweets. There were plates of molded jellies in red, green, and gold, dishes of sugared almonds, cakes, marzipan fruit tarts, and silver bowls of black raisins, purple figs, green and white grapes, and Seville oranges. Deep-red and golden wines and heady beer flowed from the villa fountains.
The musicians played lively tunes as they moved among the guests. At the head table Niall and Constanza sat in the place of honor receiving congratulations. Neither missed the admiring looks cast the groom’s way by many of the ladies, and the bride’s purple- pansy eyes darkened jealously.
“You look like an outraged kitten,” he observed in an amused tone.
“I was thinking,” she replied, “that the marquesa, for all her low decolletage and painted face, is at least ten years your senior.”
Niall gave a whoop of laughter and kissed her soundly. “Oh, nina, what a sharp little tongue you have.” Then his eyes caressed her, and he said, “Soon I shall teach you to use that naughty tongue in a sweeter pursuit,” and Constanza felt a strong warmth sweep over her. Since that afternoon in the meadow he had not known her intimately. His behavior had been that of any proper gentleman with his betrothed. It had made her a little afraid, especially after her monthly show of blood had arrived on time. Perhaps he regretted his proposal but was too well mannered to withdraw it? Now, how- ever, his eyes told her that she had been foolish to be afraid. As the relief flooded through her she felt quite giddy.
The afternoon lengthened and became evening. Finally Ana was at her elbow, whispering, and Constanza rose discreetly and left the courtyard. “Come in an hour, my lord,” said the servant woman softly, and Niall acknowledged the message with a faint nod. Shortly afterward the Conde slipped into the seat nearest him.
“I did not mention it before, but Constanza’s maternal grand- mother was English. Part of her dowry was a house on the Strand in London. It is not large, nor elegant, but it has been kept in good repair. It came to me through Constanza’s mother, and I have made it a part of your wife’s dowry. My London agent has already informed the tenants that they must leave. The house will be staffed and ready for you when you reach London.”
“My thanks, Don Francisco. The Burkes have long considered the value of a London house, and the Strand is an excellent location.” He glanced about the festive courtyard. “My gratitude also for this day. It has made Constanza so happy.”
“She is my daughter, Don Niall. Oh, I know that old gypsy witch, Ana, has convinced Constanza that I doubt her paternity and believe she killed her mother, but it is not so. Constanza was born with a heart-shaped mole on her right buttock. I have the identical mole, as do my brother, Jamie, our father, and our late grandfather. So did my two sisters. Any doubts I might have entertained were erad- icated the moment I first saw my daughter.
“As to Contanza’s mother, Maria Theresa was as frail as she was proud. The agony of being held all those weeks in the licentious clutches of the Moors shamed her as greatly as it shamed me. She died because she could not bear to be whispered about for the rest of her life. How could a simple peasant like Ana understand some- thing like that?”
He sighed. “Be good to my Constanza, Don Niall. She is so much like her mother. When you take her away, it will be like losing Maria Theresa again.” He then rose quickly, and joined a group of his friends on the other side of the courtyard.
Niall was astounded by these revelations, and the brief glimpse he had just had into the Conde’s soul. No wonder he had been so generous with Constanza’s dowry. It included an estate in Spain, the villa here on Mallorca, an enormous settlement in gold with the promise of more to come when the Conde died, and now a London house. He smiled to himself. The MacWilliam would be quite pleased, for Niall was certainly bringing home an heiress.
A servant refilled his goblet, and he watched the gypsy dancers with a growing feeling of peace. Quaffing down the cup, he rose and went to his room where he found his manservant waiting with a steaming tub. Silently, he bathed, sniffing appreciatively at the sandalwood soap. Standing up, he sluiced water down his body, and was carefully dried.
“Where is my lady?”
“She awaits my lord in the bedchamber next to his own.”
‘Tell Ana I am coming. Tell her to leave my wife. You are dismissed for the night.”
“Si, my lord.”
Niall examined his naked body in the pier glass and was pleased by what he saw. His illness and idleness hadn’t put any flab on him. He turned, picked up a small object from out of a drawer, and entered the scented candlelit chamber where Constanza lay beneath the cov- erlet of their bed. Her eyes widened at the sight of him.
“I sleep this way,” he said by way of explanation.
“So do I, but Ana made me put on a nightdress. She said it was expected tonight.”
“Shall we shock Mallorcan society, nina?” he asked mischie- vously. “Stand up quickly,” he commanded, and when she obeyed he tore the dainty lawn gown from her body and tossed the pieces across the room. “And now, to assure my honor and proclaim your purity to all…” He held his hand over the bed and tightly closed his fist. Blood splattered the sheets in the center. Constanza shrieked, and Niall laughed. “Perfect, my love! Now the wedding guests will believe your maidenhead successfully breeched.” He wiped his hand clean of blood and tossed the linen towel in the fire. “It was a piglet’s bladder filled with chicken blood,” he explained. “Your Ana gave it to me this morning.”
“Oh,” she answered wide-eyed. “I never thought…” her voice trailed off.
He laughed. “Neither did I, but your Ana, bless her, did. I am glad she’s coming with us. Now, you tempting little piece, come here to me! This last month I’ve gone half mad remembering our afternoon in the meadow.”