Midnight Rider (32 page)

He smiled when her eyes caught his. Then he lazily came to his feet and began to walk toward her, his long strides easy and sure. He looked enough like Ramon that it took only a moment for her to realize exactly who he was.

“Senora?”

“Yes?”

“I am your husband's cousin, Angelo. Do you mind if I sit down?”

“Why … no … of course not. I had heard some of his family was in town. I'm very glad to meet you.”

He pulled out a chair and sat down. He was shorter than Ramon, a little more slender, but wide-shouldered and hard-muscled, obviously well built. As Mac had said, the man was handsome, in a different, more austere way than Ramon, but attractive just the same.

“My cousin has left you here alone? It is not like Ramon to leave such a beautiful woman to fend for herself … especially not one who is his wife.”

“Something came up. He had to leave rather unexpectedly. I told him I'd be all right while he was gone.”

Angel smiled, his teeth flashing white, but it didn't hold the kind of warmth Ramon's smile did. “I am sorry I missed him. I only just arrived in town this afternoon.”

That wasn't the impression she'd gotten from Mac. “Then your sister doesn't know that you're here?”

“Not yet. There was some business I needed to attend to first.”

Like drinking and whoring at Conchita's Cantina, she thought, almost wishing she had eaten in her room after all. There was something about Angelo de la Guerra, something she couldn't quite pin down, yet it bothered her just the same.

She forced herself to smile. “Will … will you join me?”

“I am afraid I have already eaten. And there is a matter of some importance I must see to.” He rose from his chair, took her hand and brought it to his lips. They felt cool and dry, not the least bit pleasant. “It has been a pleasure meeting you…?”

“Caralee,” she supplied, oddly wishing she didn't have to tell him her name at all. But the man was her husband's cousin. She really had no choice.

“It has been a pleasure, Cousin Caralee. Be sure to give Ramon my regards.”

Carly only nodded. She watched him leave, his gait more a swagger than a walk. When the plump Mexican woman brought the meal, Carly discovered she was no longer hungry.

Instead she picked at the food, forcing herself to eat at least a portion of it, then returned upstairs to read. Several times her mind strayed to Angel de la Guerra and the uncomfortable feeling she had experienced in his presence. Eventually, the pages in the book began to blur and she set the text on the bedside table. Wearily she blew out the lamp and slid more deeply between the covers. Surprisingly it didn't take long to fall asleep.

She dreamed of Ramon, a pleasant dream, filled with warmth and love and hope for the future. She wondered if Ramon dreamed of her.

*   *   *

Angel de la Guerra slipped silently down the hallway, moving with the stealth of a man who knew how to handle himself. It was a confidence he had lacked until his years in prison … perhaps until he had killed his first man.

In the lobby below, a grandfather clock ticked softly, breaking into the quiet. It was well past midnight. No light filtered beneath the closed doors; the hotel guests were sleeping. Listening for the sound of footfalls but hearing none, he pulled a long, thin piece of wire from the waistband of his buckskin breeches, eased it into the lock on the door, flicked it one way and then the other, and heard the satisfying sound of the lock beginning to turn.

Removing the wire, he quietly turned the knob and shoved open the door, then stepped soundlessly into the room.

He stopped at the foot of the bed. Caralee de la Guerra lay sleeping, her long dark copper hair fanned out across her pillow. She wore a beautifully embroidered white silk nightgown so sheer he could see the rose aureoles at the crest of her high full breasts. The sheet and blanket had been shoved down haphazardly past her waist. He noticed how tiny it was above the gentle flaring of her hips.

He was hard already just knowing what he intended, had been since before he had opened the door. Now his shaft was stiff and pulsing, his palms beginning to sweat as he imagined himself pumping into her ripe little body, the taking even sweeter for the fact she belonged to Ramon.

She was sleeping soundly. He quietly stripped off his clothes then eased back the covers and climbed into the bed beside her. She had only stirred once. Now she rolled toward him, resting a small hand on his chest, and in her sleep she smiled.

Angel smiled, too. Easing the nightgown off her shoulder, he bared a pale upturned breast, cupped it with his hand and began to tease the nipple. Just as it puckered into hardness, her eyes snapped open and she came up off the bed. He caught her scream in his mouth, slanting his lips over hers as he gripped her wrists and forced her back down on the mattress. Only the sixth sense he had developed in prison enabled him to hear the door as it swung wide.

He turned in time to see his cousin silhouetted in the frame, his face a black mask of rage. Angel steeled himself. He wouldn't be bested again.

“Ramon … what are you doing here?”

The bigger man did not move, just stood riveted in the doorway. “I think the question is better asked of you.”

“Ramon…” Carly whispered.

Angel just looked down at her. He released his bruising grip on her wrists. “I am sorry, cousin. I did not know the little whore belonged to you.”

A muscle bunched in Ramon's hard jaw. “The
little whore
is my wife.”

Angel swore softly, fluently. “
Dios mio,
I did not know.” He swung his legs to the side of the bed. “I saw her in the dining room. We spoke briefly and she invited me here. If I had known who she was …
por Dios,
Ramon—”

“Get out,” he said.

“What … what is he saying?” Carly stared from Ramon to Angel, her body still trembling with anger and fear. “That—that isn't what happened.”

“I am sorry, cousin.” Angel grabbed his breeches, slid them on, then grabbed his shirt and boots, and started for the door.

“You don't believe him?” Carly said, finally gathering her wits enough to speak. “He came in here and tried to … tried to … and you're just going to let him leave?”

Angel closed the door, and Ramon's dark eyes swung to her face. Fury hardened his features, made him look like the ruthless, brutal man she knew he could be. “Perhaps you would prefer I leave instead, since you and my cousin seemed to be so thoroughly enjoying each other.”

“What!”

“At least have the decency to cover yourself. You may be certain that I am no longer interested in your somewhat tarnished charms—no matter how appealing they might be.”

Carly glanced down, saw that Angel had exposed one of her breasts, and her face flushed crimson. With hands that shook, she hastily pulled her nightgown into place.

“Ramon, please … you can't possibly believe that what he told you is the truth. I don't even know how he got in here.”

“But you do know who he is? You met him as he says, downstairs in the dining room?”

“I-I spoke to him only briefly. I didn't invite him here—how can you possibly believe I would?”

“I am not blind, Cara, as you seem determined to believe. I saw you with him, remember? He was kissing you, caressing your beautiful breasts.” He reached over and jerked the sheet off, leaving her sitting disheveled in the bed, her body trembling, her nightgown riding up to the middle of her thighs.

“Get dressed,” he said roughly. “We are leaving.”

She started to shake even harder. Tears stung her eyes, began to clog her throat. It was only beginning to hit her, what had occurred, and she still couldn't make herself believe it. “We c-can't leave now. You've been riding all night. You have to get some s-sleep.”

He grabbed her arm and yanked her up from the bed. “Do what I tell you!” Black rage pumped through him. It was there in every hard line of his face. His eyes were as dark as the paths leading to hell. “I promised you once I would never hurt you again. At this moment, it is a difficult promise to keep.” He let go of her then and she reeled backward till she fell across the bed.

“Do as I say. Pack your things and prepare to leave.”

Carly just stared at him. Her wrists still throbbed where Angel had trapped them. Her lips were bruised from the pressure of his hard, dry lips. Her throat ached with tears and her heart hurt so badly she thought it must surely break in two.

“Why? Why is it so easy for you to believe him and so hard for you to believe me?”

Ramon didn't answer, just grabbed a handful of her clothes from the wardrobe and tossed them at her on the bed. “Get dressed, my little
puta.
I should never have brought you here in the first place. I should have known the temptation would be too much for a
gringa
like you.”

A
gringa
like me, Carly thought, fresh pain knifing through her. An Anglo woman, a woman whose word could never stand against that of a de la Guerra. She blinked and hot salty tears began to roll down her cheeks. “You and Angel … I thought you were as different as the sun and the moon. Perhaps you are not so different as I believed.”

Ramon said nothing. Just turned away as she dressed in her riding habit and shakily plaited her hair into a long, thick braid. Leaving several gold
reals
on the dresser in payment for their room, he hauled her out into the hallway and down the back stairs. She waited in the alley, the cold air slicing through her, while he went to the stable for their horses.

The white mare was saddled and ready, but he was leading Rey del Sol, the stallion obviously weary from the grueling ride Ramon had just made. Instead his big Spanish saddle rested atop a big bay gelding.

“Wh-what about the mule?” Carly asked.

“I traded it for the saddle horse. Rey needs time to recover his strength, and we will be traveling lighter this time.” He smiled bitterly. “I find I am eager to be home.” His hands bit into her waist as he lifted her up, set her down hard on the sidesaddle. He said nothing as he swung himself up in his heavy silver-trimmed saddle, nothing as they rode out through the empty dirt streets, nothing as they started into the hills.

He pushed hard all morning, stopped to water the horses, then they rode on. Carly didn't eat and neither did Ramon. She could only imagine how exhausted he must be. By nightfall, she felt that same exhaustion herself, coupled with the sickening knowledge that in a single long night in Monterey, she had lost her husband forever.

She tried not to cry, but in the long hours of darkness, she couldn't stop the tears from falling. She had loved him so much. She would have done anything for him. Anything. She had foolishly believed that someday he might love her in return.

Instead he had called her his whore, believed her guilty of sleeping with his cousin. Angel might be a de la Guerra, might be pure Castilian Spanish, but Carly wouldn't spit on a man like Angel. In fact, if she'd had a gun in her room last night, she probably would have shot him.

And what of Ramon? She had come to admire him. Now she saw what she hadn't seen before. The prejudice he loathed in the Anglos, his hatred of people who persecuted those who were different, was as strong in Ramon as it was in the men he opposed. It made her heartsick to think it, to know she could never come up to his expectations, never gain his trust because her heritage wasn't the same as his.

She had known it. He had made it clear from the start, but she hadn't really believed it. She hadn't allowed herself to believe it because she loved him too much.

Lying on her bedroll, Carly curled into a tight ball of misery and buried her head in her arms. Her body shook with the tears that poured from her eyes and soaked into her blanket. She didn't care if Ramon heard her crying. She didn't care about anything anymore. She only knew her life was over, that her heart was broken, that the love she felt for him had begun to seep out of her like water through a piece of broken glass.

She cried until her tears were spent, then lay there staring at the stars. She didn't really see them. Her pain was too deep, her heart too full of despair. Before the sun came up, she crossed the clearing to where the horses had been hobbled, saddled her mare, tied her bedroll on behind, climbed up on a rock, and levered herself into the sidesaddle.

She would have ridden off if Ramon hadn't stepped forward and caught her horse's bridle.

“Where do you think you are going?”

She smiled at him bitterly. “Back where I came from. I won't say home because I no longer have one. I'm returning to Rancho del Robles. If my uncle won't have me, I'll go somewhere else. I don't need you to show me the way.”

A muscle jerked in his cheek. “Nevertheless, you will travel with me,” he said tersely. “If del Robles is your wish, I will see that you get there.” His mouth curved grimly. “Perhaps things have worked out exactly as you planned all along. If you can find a way, you can have your annulment, as you wished from the start. I am sure there are any number of men willing to pleasure you as I have, some of them in ways far beyond what I had only begun to teach you.”

Her hand lashed out, slapped him hard across the face. For a moment she thought he might drag her down from the horse, the rage in his face was so great. Then it was gone, replaced by a look of sadness and utter despair. Against her will, she found herself drawn to that look, wanting desperately to ease it away.

“I didn't do the things your cousin said. I know you don't believe me, but it's the truth.”

A cold, ruthless smile twisted his lips. “You chose the wrong man …
mi amor
 … when you tried to seduce a de la Guerra. Angel and I, we were raised together as children. He is more like a brother than a cousin.”