Microsoft Word - Jenny dreamed

Jenny dreamed

of a wild Indian rite of passage,

of a white man who danced with the braves,

from whose breast the blood streamed

in an agony that proved his manhood.

$omeday she would meet that man….

Jenny envisioned

a love centuries old between

a man setting out to explore and

discover wealth beyond compare

and the woman he must leave behind

Someday that love would be hers …..

But before that "someday" she must endure much. Many men would entangle their hands in her long black hair; many men would gaze into her deep blue eyes and caress her silken body in lust or love.

She would find sorrow in Spain, torment in Montana, intrigue in Caracas, misery in the Venezuelan jungles before the passion she was predestined to know became reality in a make-believe land of

Lost Splendor

This is Jenny-beautiful, bold and brave, flung by fate into many men's lives-predestined to love but one.

As Iena, Duchess of Varga-she is a widow who does not grieve the loss of the handsome Duke who treated her more as a possession than a wife.

As Jennifer Bryant, daughter of Mariah and Jared Bryant, she seeks to rediscover herself in Montana, only to be captured as a prize of vengeance and cast into a brothel as prisoner and pawn.

As Jenny Cantrell, she is a wife passionately in love with her husband but always in doubt about the reason for her marriage.

As Lady Jennifer, consort of the conqueror of Beann Cowd'en, she is the unwilling symbol of tyranny and the link in the fulfillment of a centuries-old dream of Lost

Splendor

Novels by Donna Comeaux Zide

Caress and Conquer

Lost Splendor

Savage In Silk

Published by

WARNER BOOKS

Donna Comeaux Zide

Lost Splendor

This book is lovingly dedicated

to my mother,

Helen J. Comeaux

in recognition of the support

and encouragement

she has always provided.

PROLOGUE La Coruna, Spain October, 1872 .

Alejandro de la Morenes y Varga stood at his sister-in-law's side, his arm cast protectively about her shoul-ders as the two watched her husband's casket being slid into its waiting portal in the burial vaults beneath the altar of the family chapel.

His own wife stood a short distance away, her stout body properly draped in mourning black, a color that only served to accentuate the sallow cast of her complexion. Her gaze remained downcast, her fingers fumbling over a well-worn rosary as she whispered a succession of prayers' for the soul of her departed brother by marriage.

Of all who had known the late Duke Rodrigo, only Inez would ask God to grant mercy on his everlasting soul and give him the peace that he had never known in life. Her husband and the girl who stood so near to him were beth dry-eyed, and Inez's wide-lipped mouth pursed in disapproval. What would the bishop think of their obvious failure to grieve?

Undoubtedly the foreigner woman's lot had not been an easy one, but then, women were not placed on earth at the side of men to live a life of ease. There was a momentarv flare of compassion within her, quickly extinguished. The girl had brought misery on herself, flaunting her physical beauty and soft ways in Rodrigo's face. The good Lord knew, Inez thought righteously, that the young Duchess of Varga had seldom visited the chapel to pray or beg forgiveness for her sins, the least of which were pride and vanity.

Chiding herself for not attending faithfully to her duty to intercede with God Almighty on Rodrigo's behalf, Inez let her thoughts slip back to the time when her sister-in-law Jennifer had first arrived at El Citadel.

Rodrigo had been close to forty when he'd taken Lady Jennifer Bryant as his bride, woeing and winning her hand in a short span of two months that he'd spent tending to his business affairs in London. Inez, expecting that her own Alejandro would inherit the ducal title, had found her brother-in-law's arrival with the new Duchess completely devastating.

Alejandro, that equally-gullible fool! Had he seemed to care that he and his children might lose their grasp on the vast inheritance of land and wealth that accompanied the dukedom?

No, not a whit! From the first, he was as enchanted by the young English girl as his brother.

All had seemed lost to Inez because Rodrigo had been duped and snared by the wiles of Jennifer. Jennifer ... with hair the texture of rich black silk, with eyes the color of an innocent spring sky. She's not so innocent now, I'll wager, Inez thought, allowing herself a malicious smirk. Three years as Rodrigo's lady had taken their toll from the girl's vivacious spirit. Her easy, lilting laughter that so annoyed Inez, no longer rang in the halls. The sparkle had faded from her eyes, and her natural slenderness had turned to frailty. Long ago, Inez had accepted her own odd assemblage of features as a burden she had been assigned to bear ...

a gift from above to test her faith and enduring spirit. She had resigned herself to the thin, straight hair, oily as the olive trees that grew on her father's estates, to dark, heavy-lidded eyes set, cow-like, too far apart, to a short, plump nose that seemed to point the way to heaven. As a bride to Alejandro she brought a proud lineage that was as old and honorable as his own and the temptingly formidable dowry her loving father had wisely provided.

Duty-bound to submit to the physical demands of her lawful husband, she had, by closing her eyes and praying fervently during the distasteful ordeals, managed to produce five healthy children. Indeed, the times when she was heavy with child were no burden. Only then was she allowed respite from the onerous physical act that so disgusted her. Alejandro had his mistresses, of course, but that was to be expected. As long as he remained discreet, she was even thankful for them, for they relieved her of much of his attentions. The bishop finished his blessing of Rodrigo's coffin and again offered his condolences to the family, interrupting the thoughts of the new Duchess. Inez smiled graciously, baring an uneven row of yellowed teeth, and accepted the holy words on behalf of the "bereaved" widow and Alejandro, who, even now, were quickly making their way out of the depths of the crypt.

Again Inez frowned disapprovingly. It seemed that those two were all too eager to leave the newly buried Duke to lie with the dust of centuries past. She flushed with embarrassment, accepting the offer of the bishop's arm as they walked toward the steps. Only half her attention followed the old prelate's boring recital of the dead man's attributes, as she strained an ear to catch the low, murmured conversation drifting between her husband and Jennifer.

Jennifer Bryant de la Morenes paused in the dusty, cobbled courtyard of EI Citadel, casting a brief, apprehensive glance back at the chapel she had just left. Could it be true that Rodrigo was really dead? Could a man who had always seemed so alive and vital really be entombed there, shut in forever with the mouldering remains of his illustrious ancestors? Or was it all some strange and incredible dream from which she would soon awaken?

Yet she could not refute the physical evidence. Rodrigo had been killed in Venezuela, seeking wealth for which he'd had no need, lusting after a legendary, lost city of gold, driven to his quest because of her ... or so, in a last stroke of cruelty, he had claimed as he'd bid her a cold and brutal farewell a year ago.

With slender, impatient fingers, Jenny tore the suffocating veil of mourning away from her face. By the standards of etiquette, she should wear black for one full year to show proper respect for the loss of her beloved. A joke, she thought now. Long before he had left her, Rodrigo had, deliberately stripped her of any respect or love she had once felt for him. Her mourning year was over now; she had wept too many bitter tears during that long, empty separation to feel anything but relief now that it was over.

A sudden, chill wind rose, buffeting the two solitary figures in the courtyard. Alejandro's hand gently touched Jenny's back, urging her toward the comfort of the castle's great hall.

Dead, fallen leaves swirled around them, and overhead a darkening sky foretold the coming of a storm that would dampen but not quench the everthirsty soil of La Coruiia.

Once inside, Alejandro solicitously showed her to a seat near the massive stone fireplace that dominated the far end of the hall, The long, high-ceilinged room was . enriched by Jenny's tasteful decorations from the bright, intricate designs of the Persian rugs covering the floors to the superb oil paintings that graced the walls. During her reign as mistress of El Citadel, she had done much to bring the dark, brooding stone fortress out of the medieval gloom that had pervaded it when she had seen it first.

Even as Jenny surveyed the home that had been hers for three years, memorizing its details to carry with her when she returned home to England, her brother-in-law made his declaration. Alejandro spoke in Spanish, never having mastered more than a halting, broken version of Jenny's native tongue. "My lady, I know that your heart is troubled. Do not think that you must leave El Citadel. Let it remain your home, for you have brought the sun within these shadowed walls."

Alejandro, embarrassed by his own sudden eloquence, busied himself pouring a glass of sherry for her.

Though he had coveted the dukedom for himself, he had no desire to see the only bit of beauty in his home depart. He handed her the wine, quickly glancing away from the guileless curiosity reflected in the gray-blue of her eyes. How often had he wished that he had seen Jenny first, that he hadn't been so eager to acquire Inez's dowry! The wish returned to torment him now.

"Rodrigo loved you in his way, Jena," he continued, calling her by the pet name used in the family circle. When her expression instantly revealed her bitter skepticism, he tried to explain. "He was not used to giving of himself. He lived only to own things ... to possess the finest, the rarest, the most exquisite that he could buy. I believe that is how he measured his worth in this world!" A touch of pity for the values his dead brother cherished was evident in Alejandro's sigh.

Jenny's eyes darkened with sadness that only time would dim and a cynical wisdom that had been acquired since she had come to Spain. "You're telling me that I was just another showpiece for his collection, Alejandro. Though your words ring true, I find the thought much more insulting than believing that he lost his love for me!" The words flew from her like an explosion of sparks from a fire.

Over the sound of Inez's voice in the entrance hall ordering a servant to prepare a meal for the bishop, Jenny raged. "Should I cherish that thought, little brother? Will knowing that I was a prize he sought, one which held little value or interest once acquired, keep me warm in the night?" Jenny leaned back in the chair, tears stinging her eyes as she stared up .at Alejandro. "Don't embarrass me further by endowing that possessive mania of his with the name of love. I know well enough how my husband felt ... as did a number of other women who fell under the spell of his considerable charm!" "But he married you, Jena," Alejandro offered in consolation.

A tight, bitter smile scored her fine mouth with tiny lines. "Yes," she answered in an ironic tone, "I have the honor of being the only one acquired by marriage vows." Her head bowed under the weight of those memories before she slowly raised it to gaze up into her brother-in-law's eyes.

"He cared so much for me that he never bothered to hide his liaisons with others. If that is love, Alejandro, I would have preferred his hatred!"

The entrance of Inez, followed by the aging prelate, cut off any reply or further sympathy Alejandro might have offered. Single-mindedly, the old man still continued his praise of the late Duke. "Oh, to pass on to his heavenly reward so young! The Duke was wise and beneficent beyond his years." He droned on and on in an irritating, dry squeak that reminded Jenny of a poorly played violin.

"He was nothing of the kind," she snapped, unable to stem the flow of resentful words that bubbled from a deep wound within her. "The servants trembled before him. His own nieces and nephews were terrified by his glower, and even the dogs had the good sense to be wary of crossing his path!"