She frowned her confusion but he shook his dark head firmly.
‘No more questions, come and see.’
He held out his hand to her and, unsure but trusting, she put her own into it and felt his fingers close about hers, warm and firm.
He led her out of the room, along the corridor and down the huge, curving flight of stone stairs to the main hall. As she moved beside him, each step in perfect harmony with the other, she couldn’t help thinking that tomorrow she would walk with him in much the same way down the long central aisle in the cathedral.
She would be his bride, but not really his wife. She would have his position, his title, but she would not have what she most wanted—his heart.
‘Luis,’ she began uncertainly. ‘You still haven’t explained what will happen tomorrow—how things will go. We can’t truly be married all over again because the ceremony’s been performed. I know you said…’
‘That you should leave that with me,’ Luis filled in for her when she hesitated. ‘And you have nothing to worry about.’
‘But what are we going to do?’
‘I have spoken to the archbishop and everything is in hand. Forget about it for tonight.’
Forget about it for tonight. The words echoed in his head, mocking him with their hollowness. How could he persuade her to do something that he found totally impossible himself?
Forget. He had thought of nothing else over the past few weeks. Thought only of how to make this marriage of his into a real one in every possible sense. And tonight was make or break time. With his free hand he touched his jacket pocket, heard the faint crackle of paper, and his heart missed a painful beat.
Tonight, he would put his fate in Isabelle’s hands, and she would decide once and for all whether there would be any need to trouble the archbishop tomorrow or not. If things went the way he hoped, then tomorrow would be the start of a whole new life for both of them.
But if things didn’t work out, then instead of being a beginning, tomorrow would be the exact opposite—an end to this marriage. Because if he couldn’t convince her tonight, then he had no hope of ever enjoying a future.
He came to a halt outside the door to the library and forced himself to take hold of the handle and turn it.
‘In here—there’s someone who wants to meet you.’
‘Someone?’
The expression on Luis’s face told her that this was not just some new guest, some other member of his family she had yet to meet. His head was held high, his eyes meeting hers with an expression that she had never, ever seen in them before. Under the elegant jacket, his broad shoulders were taut with tension, and his breathing sounded strangely raw and uneven.
‘Luis—what is it?’
He didn’t answer. Instead he pushed open the door and stood back to let her precede him inside.
‘See for yourself…’ he said at last.
The woman in the library had her back to them. One arm resting on the ornately carved mantelpiece, she was looking up at a huge oil painting of a long-ago Duke of Madrigalo. But she was instantly familiar. Isabelle had seen that tall, voluptuous figure, the fall of long black hair down her back, only the day before.
Her breath escaped her in a jolting gasp and the room seemed to spin round her sickeningly.
‘Catalina!’ she managed through lips made dry with shock. ‘What are you doing here?’
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘WHAT are you doing here?’ Isabelle repeated when Catalina didn’t answer her, her black eyes going instead to the man still standing in the doorway.
‘I…’ she began, then obviously lost her nerve.
‘Tell her!’ Luis rapped out the command like a bullet from a gun.
‘Yes—please,’ Isabelle murmured. ‘Tell me.’
What was Catalina doing here again? Why had Luis brought her? Because clearly Luis had brought her here. That much was obvious from the uncomfortable interplay between the two of them.
Turning to Luis, she was stunned to see he was actually backing out of the room.