Sun God (3 page)

When he set her on her feet, she flashed him a broad smile, grabbed his hand, and excitedly drew him along with her into the yard and up the front walk.

When the pair stepped onto the shaded patio, Amy dropped Luiz’s hand. He stopped, came no farther. Smiling, he stood there at the edge of the stone porch, watching while she ran to her brothers. The servants, beaming and chattering in rapid Spanish, stood a respectful distance away while the Sullivan brothers greeted their sister.

“It’s so wonderful to be home!” Amy exclaimed, giving Baron’s cheek a quick kiss, then turning to Lucas. “Did you two miss me?”

“Little Amy?” Lucas was incredulous. “That really you?”

Hardly believing his eyes, Baron Sullivan purposely hid his surprise. “Of course it’s our own little Amy,” he said, smiling easily. “She hasn’t changed all that much.” Looking over Amy’s head at the silent Indian youth, he gestured dismissively. “That’s all for now, Luiz. Pedrico and Armond can see to the luggage. You must have something to do.”

Luiz nodded, annoyed that he had been so rudely excused. He was not surprised. He had never been a friend of the Sullivan brothers. They refused to recognize him as an equal, delighted in acting as if he were one of the servants. But they treated him this way only when the
patrón
and his father were absent.

As he started backing away, Amy whirled about, hurried to him, and touched his forearm, saying softly, “Until tonight?”

“Yes. Tonight.” With eyes only for Amy, Luiz Quintano did not notice the look of hatred that came into Baron Sullivan’s frosty blue eyes.

She felt radiant.

Her gown was white lace. A wide ruffle around the low-cut neckline displayed creamy shoulders, a smooth slender back, and the swell of her high, full bosom. A shimmering sash of pale-pink taffeta emphasized her small waist, its streamers flowing to the floor. Her full skirts were a series of wide, lacy ruffles, held out by a stiff horsehair petticoat. Her dancing slippers were of soft white kid, her stockings sheer white silk. Her golden hair was parted in the middle, pulled back on one side and secured with a dainty pearl clip. A vivid pink blossom was tucked behind her small left ear.

She was alone in her bedroom.

Magdelena and Rosa had helped her dress and then graciously departed, declaring repeatedly that she was
muy bonita.
She hoped it was so. She wanted to be very pretty on this special night. She wanted Tonatiuh to fully realize that she was no longer a child. She was a woman.

A knock on her bedroom door made Amy forget she was a woman.

“Daddy!” she shouted excitedly, and flew across the room to throw open the door.

Walter Sullivan, dressed in his finest, stood in the hallway gaping down at the daughter he’d not seen in five years. The big man looked dazed. He stared at Amy as if she were a stranger.

“Daddy, Daddy,” Amy cried joyfully, and threw her arms around his neck. “I missed you so much!”

His big, work-roughened hands slowly came up and clasped her waist lightly as if she were a china doll and might easily break. But his astonished blue eyes closed with pleasure when the affectionate young woman rained kisses over his sun-wrinkled cheek.

“Sweetheart,” he managed at last, setting her gently back. “I never dreamed … you’re so … my God, Amy, you’re all grown up.”

“Yes! Isn’t it wonderful?” She took one of his hands in both of hers and tugged him inside. “Spend a few minutes with me, Daddy, before we go downstairs?” Her luminous blue eyes held an almost pleading expression.

“Why sure, honey. Sure,” he said, still shaking his graying head in wonder. Amy guided the aging rancher directly to the peach velvet chaise, urged him to sit, and quickly dropped to a low footstool in front of him. For the next ten minutes, while the downstairs rooms filled with party guests and music played by a mariachi band wafted up to them, father and daughter got reacquainted.

Walter Sullivan was sorry he hadn’t been there to meet her train. His role as host to the visiting guests had made it impossible. She understood fully, she assured him. He inquired as to the health of his sister, Amy’s Aunt Meg. Amy told him that Aunt Meg was fine, but that she had wept sorrowfully when Amy had kissed her good-bye.

Amy told her daddy of her friends at the finishing school, of the subjects she had studied, of all the sights she had seen in New Orleans.

Finally, smiling, her father had to raise a big hand and break into her excited revelations, reminding Amy that they had guests waiting downstairs and that the party was for her.

Up she shot from the foot stool. “Yes! How do I look? Do I look all right?”

The big rancher rose and took her hand. “So pretty it scares your old daddy.” He kissed her forehead and ushered her out of the room.

Amy swept into the crowded ballroom on his arm at shortly after nine, feeling confident and excited.

She was vaguely aware of the turning of heads and the heightened whispering that their entrance caused. While she smiled and nodded and graciously accepted welcome-homes and compliments, her anxious eyes flicked over the crowd.

It was not until her father was turning her about on the polished dance floor that she spotted him.

He stood alone and apart, at the back of the ballroom by one of two tall carved doors thrown open to the courtyard. He wore a formal charro suit of midnight black and a shirt of fine white silk. At his throat was a carefully tied scarf of flaming crimson, the daring splash of color picked up by the red blossom in his lapel. His jet-black hair was neatly brushed back off his high forehead and his ebony eyes glittered in the candlelight from the wall sconce above his left shoulder.

Those glittering black eyes were locked on her.

“ … and couldn’t believe my eyes,” said Walter Sullivan, speaking to his distracted daughter.

With difficulty, Amy tore her gaze from Luiz. “I’m sorry, Daddy. What did you say?”

Walter Sullivan smiled down at her. “Honey, I was just saying that I still can’t get over the change in you. When I knocked on your door expecting to see my little Amy, and found you there instead, it was just about too much for this old heart.”

“Excuse me, Dad.” Lucas Sullivan, already tipsy at this early hour, stood smiling at them. Beside him was a tall, richly dressed, broad-shouldered man with casually combed brown hair, twinkling hazel eyes, and heavy lips that were widening into a smile. “Amy, I’d like you to meet Tyler Parnell.” He clamped a hand on Tyler’s back. “Ty, my lovely sister, Miss Amy Sullivan.”

“May I?” said Tyler Parnell, and not waiting for a reply, deftly took Amy in his arms and danced her away.

Walter Sullivan turned angry eyes on his younger son. “I don’t want that man around Amy, do you understand me?”

“Why not, Dad? Tyler Parnell is one of the few eligible bachelors in Sundown.”

Walter Sullivan snorted. “Parnell is a worthless lazy drunk and not fit to be in the same room with my only daughter!” Irritably he glanced around. “And where’s Baron? It doesn’t look right for my son to be late like this.”

Lucas grinned. “I expect him down any minute. He told me there was something he had to take care of, Dad.”

Walter Sullivan’s blue eyes snapped with annoyance. “You sure he didn’t say he had a woman he had to take care of?” Scowling, he turned and made his way from the crowded dance floor.

His sons were a bitter disappointment to Walter Sullivan. Neither had married. Neither were hard workers. Neither had any principles. Lucas never got far from a bottle and Baron never got far from a woman. Fearful that one or the other or both would shame him before his illustrious guests, Sullivan went in search of his firstborn. If he knew Baron, he was out in the moonlight somewhere with somebody’s daughter, sweetheart, or wife.

“We can’t, not here. Not like this.”

“The safest place in the world.”

“Baron, there’s a house full of people. We’ll be caught.” Mrs. Boyd J. Calahan turned her face away to evade his kiss. “You should have come this afternoon while Boyd was out riding. Like you promised.”

“I wanted to, darlin’, but I was tied up.” Baron took her chin in his hand, turned her face back to his, and kissed her.

The pair stood in an upstairs guest room where, only five minutes earlier, state senator Boyd Calahan had left his wife to finish dressing, admonishing her to hurry. No sooner had the senator descended the stairs than Baron, still wearing casual attire, had entered from the balcony.

“Well, you missed your chance.” Martha Calahan swept his hand away from her breast and pouted.

“You don’t mean that,” Baron muttered, peeling the low bodice down and freeing her left breast. He lowered his head to trail kisses down her bare shoulder.

“I most certainly do,” said Mrs. Calahan, thrilling to the touch of his heated lips on her tingling flesh. “I want you to go and leave me alone.”

Baron lifted his head. His icy blue eyes looked accusingly into hers. His hands fell away and he shrugged. “Very well. Perhaps the next time you visit Orilla.” He turned and started for the door.

“Well … wait … I—” The chemise-clad Mrs. Calahan ran across the bedroom, darting in front of him to press her back against the door. She favored him with a sensual smile and, reaching up to toy with his open shirt collar, said, “You don’t have to give up so easily.”

Baron brushed her hand away. “Mrs. Calahan,” he said coldly, “I have no time for games. We both should be downstairs. And since you insist on playing the coy little tease, that is exactly where I’m going.”

“Baron, no!” Martha Calahan threw her arms around his neck and pressed her voluptuous body to his. The forty-six-year-old senator’s wife was extremely flattered that a handsome young man sixteen years her junior desired her. While she was devoted to her rich and powerful husband, she did so enjoy the stolen moments of ecstasy with this passionate blond Adonis. “Please. Make love to me. It’s been so long. Six months since you were in San Antone.”

Baron finally smiled. His hands sliding around her waist and down over her firm bottom, he said, “Now, that’s better.” His fingers tightened under her rounded buttocks. He lifted her up and carried her to the bed. “Finish undressing,” he ordered, and began unbuttoning his shirt. In seconds they were both naked and Baron was pressing her down on the bed.

“You’re just terrible,” she murmured huskily when he pushed her legs wide apart. “If you had the slightest bit of respect for me, you wouldn’t insist on making love with my husband right downstairs.”

“But my dear Martha, that’s not true. I respect you deeply,” Baron whispered, and slid swiftly into her. “Very deeply.”

“Oh, yes … yes. … Deeply, darling.” Senator Calahan’s wife sighed.

He was miserable.

More miserable than he had ever been in his life.

Luiz Quintano had not moved from his spot beside the door, and his fierce black eyes had not left the ivory-skinned young woman in the white lace dress.

Amy was again, for the third time this evening, in the arms of the suave, unscrupulous Tyler Parnell. Parnell was holding her very close and whispering in her ear.

For the first time in his seventeen years, Luiz Quintano experienced the agony and frustration of jealousy. His stomach burned and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest.

His fingers ached to touch her white skin. His arms tingled with longing to hold her. But he wouldn’t be holding her, he wouldn’t be touching her. He didn’t know how to dance.

Cursing himself for being an awkward, unsophisticated fool, Luiz could stand it no longer. He whirled on his bootheel and hurried outdoors, feeling as if he were going to be ill. Out in the courtyard he tore at the choking red scarf and undid the top button of his silk shirt.

“Too warm for you inside?” Don Ramon, elegantly dressed, stepped out of the shadow, a long cigar in his hand, his white teeth flashing in the moonlight.

Luiz stuffed his hands deep into his trouser pockets and hanging his unhappy head, nodded. He was in no mood to talk, even to his father.

“Walk with me,” invited Don Ramon. “We’ll enjoy the night air together.”

The pair strolled along wide promenade paths through the fragrant garden. Don Ramon spoke in a low, level voice, his son reluctantly listening. “
Señorita
Amy has only returned today, Luis. Everyone is eager to enjoy her company. She, in turn, must be charming and gracious to her guests. When the others have gone, there will be plenty of time.” The elder Quintano halted and looked up at his tall son. “To be her friend. That is what you wish, is it not?” His heavy brows lifted questioningly.

“Yes,” said Luiz. “I want us to be friends.”

Don Ramon again smiled and touched his son’s cheek. “And that you will be. Good friends. Now, come, let’s go back inside. You’ve not yet eaten. Nor have I.”

Don Ramon tossed his cigar away and the two Quintanos returned to the house. Atop a long linen-draped buffet table, on huge silver platters, was an array of foods to dazzle the eyes and tempt the palate. Giant cured hams and large roasts of beef. Turkey and duck, oysters and shrimp. Imported smoked fish, pâté, and caviar. Puddings and ices and fresh fruit in cream.

But Luiz had no appetite. To please his father, he filled a china plate. But when only minutes later he handed it to a servant, the food had hardly been touched. Excusing himself, he wandered away. Back into the ballroom. Back to his post beside the door.

Amy was miserable.

More miserable than she had ever been in her life.

The evening was totally ruined. Luiz had not asked her to dance. While she had dizzily spun about the floor in almost every pair of male arms, including the governor’s, she had not been held by the only pair she really wanted around her.

Her bare shoulders ached to feel his dark fingers touching them. Her whole body tingled with longing to have him hold her. Trapped once more in the uncomfortably close embrace of Tyler Parnell, Amy glanced plaintively at Luiz, and was stung by the coldness she saw in his expressive black eyes. He looked distant and unreachable, as if the thought of dancing with her so bored him, he simply refused.