San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance) (9 page)

She dismounted and tossed the reins of her
horse to Domingo. She was ushered into Santa
Anna's tent by the man who stood guard.

Santa Anna reclined on a bed with silk coverings while a servant set out his meal on a table
covered with white linen. The silver utensils
and china dishes were monogrammed with
gold.

Santa Anna beamed at her and rose hastily
to his feet. "Senorita Emerada, you have kept
your word. You have come back to me!"

She removed her hat and gripped it in her
hand. "When you know me better, you will
know that I always keep my word."

His eyes moved over her, taking in her
beauty. "I like that in a woman, among other
merits."

She hoped he could not see how she was shak ing. "With your permission, Senor Presidente, I
would like to dance for the soldiers. They must
be weary and in need of entertainment."

He took her hand, raised it to his lips, and
said in a deep voice, "And what about your
Presidente? Is he not in need of entertainment?"

She withdrew her hand and moved a few
steps from him. "I will dance for you as well."

"Ali, I see. You are going to be hard to win."
He bowed to her. "I like a challenge. A battle
too easily won soon loses its thrill." He pulled
out a chair for her. "Come and dine with me.
You must be famished."

Emerada sat down, realizing she was hungry.
There was a chicken dish, beef, vegetables of
every kind, and a bowl of exotic fruit. "Everything looks delicious."

Santa Anna filled her plate, his eyes on her
every moment. "I like looking at you, Emerada.
Never have I seen a woman so beautiful and
graceful as you."

"You will make me blush if you continue to
flatter me."

A man entered carrying a dispatch, which he
handed to Santa Anna. Santa Anna excused
himself while he read it, and then he wadded it
in his fist. "We march on San Antonio de Bexar
as planned. Those cowards in Mexico City
think they can tell me how to fight a war. I am
dictator, general, and president-I alone will
decide where and when to fight!"

The messenger cringed visibly and hastily departed when Santa Anna gave him permission. As if nothing unpleasant had happened,
Santa Anna turned back to Emerada. "Forgive
me if such matters take my attention from you.
It will not happen again."

Ian flattened his body against the cliff, waiting
for the sentry to turn his back. He was ready
when the man moved away, and sprang forward, grasping the guard in a powerful armlock and covering his mouth. With the right
amount of pressure, he snapped the man's
neck. Ian felt the guard go limp and let him
slide lifelessly to the ground. He hid the body
behind a clump of bushes and then quickly
dressed in the man's uniform.

He was pleased when the uniform fit so well
that it could have been made for him. Ian had
chosen a foot soldier because there was less
chance of discovery. Had he chosen a cavalryman from one of the more elite units, his fellow officers would undoubtedly have noticed
their companion missing from their ranks and
sent up a hue and cry.

Ian shouldered his rifle and took up his sentry duty, hoping no one would notice the
switch. He could hear music and laughter coming from the camp. Apparently the Mexican
army was going joyously into war. He gauged
the strength and number of the enemy and was
astounded by the magnitude of the forces. For
the first time he doubted that Houston's infe rior number of volunteers-most of them
farmers-could win against Santa Anna's thousands of well-trained troops, all experienced in
war.

An hour later a soldier came to relieve him.
The man was yawning and nodded in greeting
while grumbling about having to stand night
duty.

Ian made his way down the hill, his eyes
sweeping the encampment, searching for the
insignia of the unit he had chosen. Luck was
with him again. He found the standard near
the outer perimeter, located an empty bedroll,
and lay down. He was sure he would not be
able to sleep.

He rolled over and stared at the stars, thinking about Emerada. Houston seemed to think
she was in some kind of danger, but Ian didn't
agree with him. More than likely she was in the
arms of the dictator right now, telling him
about her conversation with Houston.

Ian was impatient to find out whether she
was safe, and then he could get to the mission
ahead of Santa Anna.

The Mexican army was camping on the Medina
River, only twenty-five miles from San Antonio
de Bexar. Ian stood on the banks of the river,
wondering how much longer he could continue
his disguise. So far no one had paid the slightest attention to him, and he was able to move
among the soldiers with little trouble. Thus far he'd been unable to locate Emerada, although
there was talk that she was traveling with
Santa Anna. Since he was merely a foot soldier,
he did not qualify to enter the Mexican president's inner circle, a privilege that was only
available to a trusted few.

He'd often seen the president at a distance,
but he had yet to see Emerada. His lips curved
in distaste-she must be keeping to the dictator's tent.

The sun was sinking behind the hills, and Ian
watched until it was no more than a purple
splash against the horizon.

"Amigo," a solder called to Ian as he walked
toward the camp. "You must hurry or you will
miss a wonderful thing. San Antonio Rose is
going to dance for us."

Ian nodded and hurried after the man. "Why
should she pay us such an honor?" he asked
the soldier.

"Because, amigo, she is a patriot and is giving us her gift of dance."

"A patriot?" Ian said bitingly. "Si, that would
be her reason."

"Si, si. She is a great lady! Has she not
proven that by leaving all comforts behind to
travel with the president and keep his spirits
up? I saw her dance once," the soldier said,
pausing. "She was the most beautiful sight I
have ever seen. I will take her image with me to
my grave."

Ian followed the man in brooding silence. A patriot she might be to the Mexican army, but
she was a traitor to Sam Houston, and he intended to prove it. He couldn't go undetected
for much longer-he would have to act soon.

A crowd of soldiers closed in around them,
and it was a few moments before Ian found the
soldier he'd been talking to. "Does she sleep in
Santa Anna's tent?" he asked the man.

The soldier grinned. "I am told that the president is baffled by her because she keeps him
dangling. I am also told that her tent is next to
his. Of course, I do not know if this is so."

"I doubt she keeps him dangling," Ian muttered under his breath.

"Look, amigo, see where they have erected a
stage for her. Hurry! hurry! We must get closer
so we can see her dance."

Torchlight flickered across the hastily constructed stage while five mariachis strummed a
plaintive tune on their guitars. Hundreds of
soldiers of all ranks crowded into the limited
space; some even perched in trees so they
could watch the San Antonio Rose perform.

Ian was some distance away, leaning against
a tree, his arms folded across his chest. His
gaze settled on Santa Anna, who was seated
next to the stage, and revulsion churned
through his stomach as he thought of the man
putting his hands on Emerada.

Ian elbowed his way forward while men
grumbled and cursed at him. Soon he was near
enough to see the stage better. He had been prepared for her appearance, but when Emerada stepped onto the stage, his breath caught
in his throat.

She shimmered like a delicate jewel in an
emerald green, tiered gown. At first she just
stood there while the crowd went wild with
adoration-they called out to her, and Ian even
saw that the man next to him was crying.

She tapped one foot in time with the music.
Then her arms arched gracefully above her
head, weaving and intertwining. The music became more intense, and as she arched her
back, the look on her face was that of a matador stepping into the bullring. She was drawing emotions from the crowd, making them fall
in love with her. In that moment, any man present would have died for her-all but one, Ian
McCain. His mouth twisted in scorn. She used
her beauty and art like a weapon, and it angered him.

His gaze was riveted on her, and he realized
that she would never betray people who worshiped her as these did. Houston was the fool if
he thought she would betray Santa Anna for
him. It was Houston who was her target. Ian
knew that he must somehow get into her tent
tonight, capture her, and find a way to spirit
her away.

He would make her face Houston with the
truth.

While everyone else was watching Emerada
dance, Ian inched his way toward the Mexican presidents headquarters. He was certain no
one noticed when he slipped out of the tight
circle and ducked down behind one of the
silken tents.

Emerada was restless, tossing and turning on
the silken sheets that had come from Santa
Anna's own trunks. He had ordered that her
tent be set up next to his and that it be furnished as grandly as his own.

She plumped her pillow and tried to find a
comfortable position. They were within a day's
march of San Antonio de Bexar, where Santa
Anna had said they would engage the enemy.
She knew in her heart that if her father had
lived, he and her brothers would be fighting
with the Americans, as were many of her people.

Emerada was uncomfortable sleeping on silk
sheets and had the inclination to rip them off
her bed and sleep on the bare mattress.

She heard a noise at the back of her tent and
raised herself up on her elbow, staring into the
darkness.

It was nothing, she told herself. Perhaps the
wind.

Domingo had placed his own bedroll at the
front of her tent, so no one, not even Santa
Anna himself, could get past him.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes, wishing she
could sleep. She was in the wolfs lair, and
every covert action she made might mean her death. She had overplayed her hand in seeking
Santa Anna's affection. He was becoming as
troublesome as a lovesick youth with his first
love. She didn't know how long she could keep
him at arms length. But she was committed to
his destruction, and she would do whatever she
must to bring that about.

Her mind turned to Ian McCain, and she resented the fact that he occupied more and
more of her thoughts. Her instincts told her
that Ian was an honorable man who was willing to die for Tejas, just as her family had, just
as she would do if she had to.

It wasn't a sound that alerted her, but more
the feeling of another presence in her tent with
her. She was gripped with fear and would have
cried out for Domingo if a hand hadn't
clamped over her mouth.

"Do not cry out, Emerada."

She recognized Ian's voice! What in God's
name was he doing in her tent?

His tone was menacing. She'd never seen
him like this before. "If I remove my hand, you
will not make a sound, understand?"

She nodded.

Slowly he removed his hand, but he kept a
grip on her arm. "Get up and get dressed.
You're coming with me," he whispered against
her ear.

"Are you crazed, Ian McCain? There are soldiers everywhere. You will never make it out of
camp."

"You have two choices, Emerada. You can either come with me, or die here. It's your
choice."

She drew back as if he'd struck her. "You
would do harm to me?"

"I will if I have to." He knew deep in his heart
that he could never hurt her, but she needn't
know that. "Get dressed, now!"

It was too dark to see him, but she knew he
meant what he said. She stumbled out of bed
and reached for her gown. "You will not get
away with this, Ian McCain."

"If I don't, you will never live to tell."

A sudden ache surrounded her heart. She
could not bear to think he would harm her.
"Why are you doing this? Do you not know that
it is you who will die?"

"If you are referring to the watchdog in front
of your tent, he is snoring contentedly, and if
you are referring to Santa Anna, he has his
own diversion. Do you mind that he has taken
another woman to bed with him?"

"If you leave now, I will not cry out. You can
still get away if you are careful. It must be almost daylight."

"Hurry!" There was an urgency in his voice
as he produced a rope and grabbed her wrists,
wrapping it around them.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked as he
pulled her forward to tie the rope.

Suddenly there was the sound of movement
just outside the tent.

"Shh," he warned.

Torchlight reflected on the tent, and before
Ian could react, the tent flap was drawn aside
and three armed guards rushed inside.
Domingo was right behind them. He looked
from Emerada and back to Ian with a puzzled
expression.

Santa Anna himself came in, fastening his
shirt, and glared at Emerada. "What is this?"
he demanded, his face red with fury.

One of the guards was holding his rifle on
Ian. "I told you I saw someone sneak under the
back of her tent, Excellency."

"Emerada," Santa Anna asked, his tone of
voice revealing his suspicion, "who is this man,
and what is he doing in your tent in the middle
of the night?"

Emerada saw the jealousy reflected in Santa
Anna's dark eyes. To give her time to gather her
thoughts, she held up her hands to show she
was tied. She had to think of something
quickly or Ian would die! "This man sneaked
into my tent, demanding that I go with him. He
was prepared to take me away by force."

Santa Anna saw the uniform and moved to
Ian, his face red with rage. "How dare you, one
of my own soldiers, commit such an outrage? I
demand an answer before you die, and you will
die, make no mistake about that. But, should
you tell me the truth, you will die quickly, instead of slowly and painfully."