“I told him how we spent the afternoon,” said Niall drily.

Constanza swayed. “Oh! He will beat me!”

Seeing her white face left no doubt in his mind that she did not
exaggerate. “Has he beaten you before, lovey?”

“Of course. He is my papa. He is never an easy man, Niall, but
knowing that I gave myself to you willingly will infuriate him. I am
truly afraid.”

“Don’t be frightened, Constanzita. I will not allow anyone, even
your father, to harm you.”

With a contented sigh she nestled into his arms, and he felt better
than he had in a long time. She loved him, she needed him, and it
would be good between them.

The marriage contracts were signed the following morning and
the first banns were read at the Palma cathedral’s noon mass. By
nightfall felicitations were pouring into the governor’s villa from all
the best families on the island. The Conde was particularly pleased
when one of his friends who had spent time in London and Dublin
congratulated him on obtaining such a fine catch for Constanza.

“Lord Burke’s father is quite wealthy, my dear Francisco, and
dotes on his only son as you have doted on Constanza. What a fine
match! But then, you were always a shrewd devil, eh?” The two
men chuckled conspiratorially, and the Conde began to feel that
perhaps he had the upper hand after all. This tempered his unfriendly
feelings toward Niall.

The banns were read twice again within the month and then on
a bright winter’s morning several days after the Twelfth Night feast
had ended, Constanza Maria Theresa Floreal Alcudia Cuidadela was
joined in holy matrimony to Lord Niall Sean Burke. The bishop of
Mallorca performed the ceremony.

The sun streamed through the stained-glass windows of the ca-
thedral, making beautiful wavy patterns on the pale-gray stone floors.
The bride was preceded by six little girls in pale-pink silk dresses
over miniature farthingales with short puffed sleeves, wreaths of
rosebuds in their unbound hair. The children carried gilt baskets of
flower petals which they strewed about lavishly.

Constanza clung to her father’s arm, a vision so exquisitely ethe-
real that an audible sigh rose collectively from the guests. Her gown
was a heavy white silk brocade overskirt on a cloth-of-silver un-
derskirt. The upper sleeves of the gown were large puffs of white
brocade, slashed to show the silver interior. The sleeves were edged
in lace just below the elbow. The lower sleeves were thin white silk
that clung tightly to the arm and ended in cuffs of lace. The white
brocade bodice was tight, and began just above the swell of the
bride’s ample bosom. Modesty was preserved by a transparent silk
chiffon insert that had a dainty, virginal, round lace collar.

Constanza’s golden hair was unbound and topped by a wreath of white rosebuds attached by small pearl pins to a sheer cloud of lace
that floated about her. In one hand she carried a bouquet of gardenias
and about her slender neck was a single strand of pearls.

The groom, awaiting her at the altar, was equally elegant. His
silk hose were red-and-gold-striped, his upper legs covered by puffed
and slashed breeches of claret-red velvet. His short, high-collared
doublet was of matching silk and open at the front to show an
embroidered white silk undershirt ruffled at the wrists. Covering his
doublet was an embroidered overjerkin of claret-red velvet, studded
with freshwater pearls and gold beads. His rakish velvet cap was
tilted to show its heavily jeweled underside, and a pink plume
drooped from it. His shoes, tanned from the hide of an unborn calf,
were gilded a pale gold.

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.”

“Oh, I have too!” she confessed. He picked her up and put her
gently on the bed. Then he joined her. “Is that very shocking, Niall?”

“Hell, no, lovey! I’d rather you were eager for me than cold and
retiring.” He pulled her into his arms almost roughly and her belly
fluttered in anticipation. How many times had she dreamed of that
afternoon, Seeing the red stallion thrusting his big penis into the
quivering little white mare, and then seeing Niall looming above
her, lowering his body onto hers, thrusting his own great penis into
her. There had been days when she had writhed on her bed with the
memory half a dozen times.

Now as he buried his face in her warm breasts, she sighed. Her
golden orbs grew hard as his mouth drank first from one and then
from the other. His tongue circled the nipples again and again until
she begged him to take her. He laughed. Niall had recognized the
wanton in her, and now he was curious to see how far he might drive
her.

His warm tongue licked her soft, fragrant skin, moving downward
from her navel, stopping, then moving up each leg from the knee,
stopping again. She thrashed wildly, her blond hair tangling. Fascinated,

Niall let his lips and eyes wander to the soft defenses of her
womanhood. With gentle fingers he parted the plump folds to stare
in fascination as her tender little button grew stiff and throbbing.
His mouth fastened about it, and tasted its sweetness.