because of the profits involved, I had to represent my father’s blade concern until the merchant season ended. Martin understood my dilemma. When my father sent the letter of reward to the man who saw me safely through the season and home to my family, Martin offered his blade. Over time, he offered his name. I know he hoped for a healthy dowry so he might leave the mercenary life forever.”
Alonsa stretched out her fingers before her, stared at them as though she’d never seen them before. “I was still in mourning for my husband’s death when he offered for me. I became truly fearful for him. Two men who loved me had died, just as Miguel had predicted. Would Martin be the third? I asked myself.” She twisted her hands together in her lap. “I searched out the
Fähnlein’s
holy man, asked him what I should do.”
“And what did he say?” Inés placed her hand gently over Alonsa’s.
“He said that God would not allow a good Christian woman to be cursed in this way by a heathen. The fact that both of my husbands preceded me in death was simply God’s will. He said if I prayed about it, the Lord would protect me from Satan’s ploys.”
Inés snorted and said, “Did you believe his wise words of comfort?”
Alonsa nodded, guilt clouding her brow.
“I prayed for hours, for days on end before I finally said yes. I was … so lonely.” She glanced at Inés, pleading for understanding with her gaze. “Have you ever been so lonely you would do almost anything, believe almost anything, just to make the loneliness go away?”
“Yes,” Inés said softly, understanding as perhaps only another woman might.
“I let myself believe Martin would be safe because he did not love me. But now,” Alonsa went on, “he is dead, too, and I can no longer ignore the truth. Although there are things about his death I do not understand, the curse must be genuine.”
“What is it you do not understand?”
“Martin acted the gentleman throughout our entire courtship.” Alonsa bit her lip. “He treated me like a fragile flower. He never so much as kissed my lips. Not even once. I do not believe he loved me, and yet he is just as surely dead. It makes no sense.”
“Just because a man does not try to thrust his tongue down your throat does not mean he has no love for you,” Inés said hotly. “Martin was an honorable man. He would not have touched a woman he intended to wife before the wedding. He told me so himself the last time he bedded me—” Inés snapped her mouth shut.
Oh, Holy God, what have I done?
Alonsa gazed at her, a look of gentle understanding in her eyes.
“Inés, you knew Martin long before I did. I have known about you and him almost from the beginning. I decided some time ago if you did not mind that he chose me over you, how could I mind that he bedded you first?”
Inés stared back at her in astonishment. She’d had no idea. She cleared her throat and quickly changed the subject.
“About this so-called curse—if Martin did not love you, as you say, then shouldn’t he have lived?”
“I do not know.” Alonsa heaved a sigh. “Perhaps his death came merely as a coincidence of his profession. Perhaps not … but I am unwilling to risk Günter’s life on such a thin thread of hope.” She nibbled on her lower lip and slid Inés a shamefaced glance.
“He is too—” Alonsa waved a hand vaguely in the air. “If he kisses me that way again … surely love will follow.”
Inés raised an eyebrow at Alonsa’s innocence.
“For a twice-married woman, you know very little about men. Just because a man
does
thrust his tongue down your throat does not mean he loves you.”
Alonsa sighed. “I know, I know. Then why does he wish to marry me? For pity? Because he desires me? He could probably gain my favors easily enough, as he has so capably demonstrated. No doubt he could have the favors of half the women in this camp if he wished it.”
“Likely all,” Inés murmured and noted
Alonsa stretched out her fingers before her, stared at them as though she’d never seen them before. “I was still in mourning for my husband’s death when he offered for me. I became truly fearful for him. Two men who loved me had died, just as Miguel had predicted. Would Martin be the third? I asked myself.” She twisted her hands together in her lap. “I searched out the
Fähnlein’s
holy man, asked him what I should do.”
“And what did he say?” Inés placed her hand gently over Alonsa’s.
“He said that God would not allow a good Christian woman to be cursed in this way by a heathen. The fact that both of my husbands preceded me in death was simply God’s will. He said if I prayed about it, the Lord would protect me from Satan’s ploys.”
Inés snorted and said, “Did you believe his wise words of comfort?”
Alonsa nodded, guilt clouding her brow.
“I prayed for hours, for days on end before I finally said yes. I was … so lonely.” She glanced at Inés, pleading for understanding with her gaze. “Have you ever been so lonely you would do almost anything, believe almost anything, just to make the loneliness go away?”
“Yes,” Inés said softly, understanding as perhaps only another woman might.
“I let myself believe Martin would be safe because he did not love me. But now,” Alonsa went on, “he is dead, too, and I can no longer ignore the truth. Although there are things about his death I do not understand, the curse must be genuine.”
“What is it you do not understand?”
“Martin acted the gentleman throughout our entire courtship.” Alonsa bit her lip. “He treated me like a fragile flower. He never so much as kissed my lips. Not even once. I do not believe he loved me, and yet he is just as surely dead. It makes no sense.”
“Just because a man does not try to thrust his tongue down your throat does not mean he has no love for you,” Inés said hotly. “Martin was an honorable man. He would not have touched a woman he intended to wife before the wedding. He told me so himself the last time he bedded me—” Inés snapped her mouth shut.
Oh, Holy God, what have I done?
Alonsa gazed at her, a look of gentle understanding in her eyes.
“Inés, you knew Martin long before I did. I have known about you and him almost from the beginning. I decided some time ago if you did not mind that he chose me over you, how could I mind that he bedded you first?”
Inés stared back at her in astonishment. She’d had no idea. She cleared her throat and quickly changed the subject.
“About this so-called curse—if Martin did not love you, as you say, then shouldn’t he have lived?”
“I do not know.” Alonsa heaved a sigh. “Perhaps his death came merely as a coincidence of his profession. Perhaps not … but I am unwilling to risk Günter’s life on such a thin thread of hope.” She nibbled on her lower lip and slid Inés a shamefaced glance.
“He is too—” Alonsa waved a hand vaguely in the air. “If he kisses me that way again … surely love will follow.”
Inés raised an eyebrow at Alonsa’s innocence.
“For a twice-married woman, you know very little about men. Just because a man
does
thrust his tongue down your throat does not mean he loves you.”
Alonsa sighed. “I know, I know. Then why does he wish to marry me? For pity? Because he desires me? He could probably gain my favors easily enough, as he has so capably demonstrated. No doubt he could have the favors of half the women in this camp if he wished it.”
“Likely all,” Inés murmured and noted
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