without the discipline of the convent, without the prayers,

without the crutch of the rigid routine, Graciela found herself unable to banish her inner darkness. She had spent years fighting the Satanic urges of her body, trying to shut out the remembered sounds, the moans and sighs that had come from her mother's bed.

The Moor was looking at her naked body.

You're just a child. Get your clothes on and get out of here…

I'm a woman!

She had spent so many years trying to forget the feel of the Moor inside her, trying to push out of her mind the rhythm of their bodies moving together, filling her, giving her a feeling of being alive at last.

Her mother screaming: You bitch!

And the doctor saying: Our chief surgeon decided to sew you up himself. He said you were too beautiful to have scars.

All the years of praying had been to purge herself of guilt. And they had failed.

The first time Graciela looked at Ricardo Mellado, the past had come flooding back. He was handsome and gentle and kind. When Graciela was a little girl, she had dreamed of someone like Ricardo. And when he was near her, when he touched her, her body was instantly aflame and she was filled with a deep shame. I am the bride of Christ, and my thoughts are a betrayal of God. I belong to You, Jesus. Please help me now. Cleanse my mind of impure thoughts.

Graciela had tried desperately to keep the wall of silence between them, a wall that no one but God could penetrate, a wall to keep out the devil. But did she want to keep the devil out? When Ricardo had jumped on her and pushed her to the ground, it was the Moor making love to her, and the friar trying to rape her, and in her surging panic it was them she had been fighting off. No, she admitted to herself, that's not the truth. It was her own deep desire she was fighting.

She was torn between her spirit and the cravings of her flesh. I must not give in. I must get back to the convent.

He'll be back any minute. What should I do?

Graciela heard a low mewing from the back of the cave and quickly turned. There were four green eyes staring at her in the dark, moving toward her. Graciela's heart began to beat faster.

Two baby wolf cubs trotted up to her on soft, padded feet.

She smiled and extended her hand to them. There was a sudden rustle from the entrance of the cave. Ricardo is back, she thought.

The next instant, an enormous gray wolf was flying at her throat.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Lucia Carmine paused outside the taberna in Aranda de

Duero and took a deep breath. Through the window she could see Rubio Arzano seated inside, waiting for her.

I must not let him suspect, she thought. At eight o'clock

I'll have a new passport and be on my way to Switzerland.

She forced a smile and entered the taberna. Rubio grinned in relief when he saw her, and as he rose, the look in his eyes gave Lucia a pang.

"I was very worried, querida. When you were gone for so long, I was afraid something terrible had happened to you."

Lucia put her hand over his. "Nothing happened." Except that I've bought my way to freedom. I'll be out of the country tomorrow.

Rubio sat there looking into her eyes, holding her hand,

and there was such an intense feeling of love coming from him that Lucia felt uneasy. Doesn't he know it could never work?

No. Because I haven't the courage to tell him. He's not in love with me. He's in love with the woman he thinks I am.

He'll be much better off without me.

She turned away and looked around the room for the first time. It was filled with locals. Most of them seemed to be staring at the two strangers.

One of the young men in the cafe started to sing and others joined in. A man walked over to the table where Lucia and Rubio were sitting.

"You're not singing, señor. Join us."

Rubio shook his head. "No."

"What's the problem, amigo?"

"It's your song." Rubio saw the puzzled expression on

Lucia's face, and explained. "It is one of the old songs praising Franco."

Other men began to gather around the table. It was obvious that they had been drinking.

"You were against Franco, señor?"

Lucia saw Rubio's fists clench. Oh, God, not now. He mustn't start anything that will attract attention.

She said to him warningly, "Rubio…"

And, thank God, he understood.

He looked up at the young men and said pleasantly, "I have nothing against Franco. I just don't know the words."

"Ah. Then we'll all hum the song together."

They stood there waiting for Rubio to refuse.

He glanced at Lucia. "Bueno."

The men began to sing again, and Rubio hummed loudly.

Lucia could feel the tension in him as he held himself under control. He's doing this for me.

When the song ended, a man slapped him on the back. "Not bad, old man. Not bad at all."

Rubio sat there, silently willing them to go away.

One of the men saw the package in Lucia's lap.

"What are you hiding there, querida?"

His companion said, "I'll bet she's got something better than that up her skirt."

The men laughed.

"Why don't you pull your panties down and show us what you've got there?"

Rubio sprang to his feet and grabbed one of the men by the throat. He punched him so hard that he flew across the room,

breaking a table.

"No!" Lucia screamed. "Don't!"

But it was too late. In an instant it became a free-for-all, with everybody eagerly joining in. A wine bottle shattered the glass behind the bar. Chairs and tables were knocked over as men went flying through the air,

screaming curses. Rubio knocked down two men and a third ran toward him and hit him in the stomach. He gave a grunt of pain.

"Rubio! Let's get out of here!" Lucia screamed.

He nodded. He was clutching his stomach. They pushed their way through the melee and found themselves outside on the street.

"We've got to get away," Lucia said.

You will have your passport tonight. Come back after eight o'clock.

She had to find a place to hide until then. Damn him! Why couldn't he have controlled himself?

They turned down Calle Santa Maria, and the noises of the fight behind them gradually diminished. Two blocks away they came to a large church, the Iglesia Santa Maria.

Lucia ran up the steps, opened the door, and peered inside. The church was deserted.

"We'll be safe in here," she said.

They walked into the dimness of the church, Rubio still holding his stomach.

"We can rest for a while."

"Yes."

Rubio let his hand fall away from his stomach, and blood came gushing out.

Lucia felt sick. "My God! What happened?"

"A knife," Rubio whispered. "He used a knife." He slumped to the floor.

Lucia knelt at his side, panicky. "Don't move."

She removed his shirt and pressed it against his stomach,

trying to stem the flow of blood. Rubio's face was chalk white.

"You shouldn't have fought them, you idiot," Lucia said angrily.

His voice was a slurred whisper. "I could not let them speak to you that way."

I could not let them speak to you that way.

Lucia was touched as she had never been touched before.

She stood there staring at him and thought: How many times has this man risked his life for me!

"I won't let you die," she said fiercely. "I'm not going to let you die." She stood up abruptly. "I'll be right back."

She found water and towels in the priest's changing room in the rear of the church and she bathed Rubio's wound. His face was hot to the touch, and his body was soaked in perspiration. Lucia put cold towels on his forehead. Rubio's eyes were closed and he seemed to be asleep. She cradled his head in her arms and talked to him. It did not matter what she said. She was talking to keep him alive, forcing him to hold on to the thin thread of his existence. She babbled on,