Daughters of the Summer Storm by Frances Statham (good fiction books to read TXT) 📕

here to play games with you," Ruis responded, with an icy chill to each syllable. "I know you have Maranta, Vasco's wife, and I will not leave without her."

Honório, finally tired of pretending ignorance, said, "You led us to believe that she would never recover from childbed fever, Ruis—after bearing your child."

Ruis gave a start. And Honório continued, "Oh, yes. We know that Vasco was incapable of siring the child. Maranta Tabor has borne the heir that, by right, Innocencia would have done, if you had not put her away from you. But the girl was not satisfied with that. She poisoned Innocencia so that she could take her place as the new Condessa of Sorocaba."

"You are wrong, Honório," Ruis refuted. "Maranta did not poison your sister. And you forget, she is legally the wife of my brother Vasco."

"I am sure you and she have made plans for him, too," Vincente said. "It would be so easy to get rid of a man who is already helpless. But it will never come to that. For if the girl survives the night, she will be brought to justice tomorrow for murdering Innocencia."

"God's truth, Vincente. You, as a priest of the church, should know that what you are doing is wrong." Ruis's dark eyes filled with vengeance. "If you bring Maranta before a court of justice for a crime she did not commit, then I shall let the world know what your sister Innocencia did."

Vincente looked up in surprise as Ruis went on.

"Your sister murdered her own child—our son, who would have been the heir. When she discovered she was pregnant, she persuaded one of the Indian women to help her rid herself of the child. The mutilation made it impossible for Innocencia to conceive again. I have affidavits to prove this and will not hesitate to use them. If you wish notoriety and a slur against the Monteiro name, then be prepared for the disgrace of your own."

Honório paced back and forth between the table and the window. Ruis's words had clearly disturbed him, as well as his brother Vincente.

"Very well, Ruis," Honório finally said. "You know I cannot fall into disfavor at this time, with the Regency so shaky. The girl is locked in the burial vault at the Casa de Cabrals outside the city."

Ruis's face turned white, and he immediately moved for the door, but Vincente cautioned him. "One moment, Ruis. For your sake and the girl's, I hope your brother Vasco remains in good health."

Down the dark road Ruis spurred his horse Diabo, with his armed servants behind him. They thundered across the wooden bridge and down the hillside, with no time to spare. Maranta could last for just so long in the stuffy, airless vault.

Through the grove of trees they passed, until, in the shadowy distance, the deserted old casa, with its tiles falling from the roof, appeared as a ghost rising out of the overgrown wilderness.

Ruis rode through the garden without halting, and he urged the horse past the door and into the tiled corridor that led to the chapel.

The sleepy old man on guard, with the lantern beside him, looked up at the avenging specter headed toward him—a black devil of a horse, with the devil himself astride the animal. It must be Exú, the wicked one, coming to punish him because of the girl inside the vault. The old man fled into the darkness, leaving his lighted lantern by the door to the chapel.

Ruis jumped from the horse and, snatching up the lantern, hastened into the chapel. Down the steps he went behind the altar, until confronted by the heavy door secured by a rusty lock.

Standing to the side, Ruis took his pistol from the waistband of his breeches. The sound of the shot reverberated throughout the chapel and heralded the breaking of the lock.

The door creaked open, and Ruis held the lantern high. "Maranta," he called, but there was no answer.

Through the dank, stuffy stone room he walked, the lantern's light catching the white bones of some poor soul's remains upon a slab. He quickly lowered the lantern and searched the floor, in all the corners, and up and down the length of the long burial room, but there was no sign of Maranta.

Had he come to the wrong house? Or had Honório told a lie as to where he had put the girl?

Frantically, Ruis continued the search, holding the lantern higher. A white form, recently dead, lay on a slab, and in distaste, Ruis walked on. A deadly spider crossed his path, and he crushed it with his shoe.

All at once, Ruis stopped and then retraced his steps. Again, he held the lantern high and took a closer look at the corpse covered with white mold. His hand reached out to touch it, but instead of the cold flesh of the dead, his hand felt warmth.

It was Maranta, covered in the white flour from the Intrudo.

With a cry he lifted her from the stone slab and carried her out of the vault and into the chapel. He knelt, breathing into her mouth, forcing her lungs to work, and willing her to live. And for the second time in her life, Maranta responded to the lifesaving breath of one who loved her.

"Amada," Ruis whispered, as she moved her hand and opened her eyes.

Ruis did not wait for the Intrudo to end. Concerned for Maranta's safety, he saw to the packing and arranged transportation out of the city. He would not wait for the scheduled canoe fleet. Instead, he hired his own canoes at considerable expense and manned them with guards and as many of his male servants as he could spare from the casa. His bluff had worked for the moment, but he did not trust either Honório or Vincente for long. He knew what Innocencia had done with Floresta's help—but he had no positive proof, no affidavits from the doctors. And Innocencia's brothers, well versed in law, could demand to see proof