Tears of Gold (27 page)

Brendan pulled out a cigar and was lighting it, the match flaring briefly, when he suddenly gave a cry of pleasure. “Damn! I’ve got it!”

Mara eyed him with suspicious curiosity as he blew a large puff of smoke into the room and a wide grin spread across his face. “You will collect, mavournin, on a debt from Don Andres.”

“He owes me nothing,” Mara replied.

“You collect on Feliciana. Or have you forgotten how you so courageously saved that young woman from a fiery death? Anything you want, mavournin, he’ll give you.”

“But what will I tell him?”

“Anything you like except the truth, love. I prefer not to push our luck too far,” Brendan advised.

Mara nodded absently as she turned to the window overlooking the courtyard and stared out. What would she say to Don Andres? The courtyard was deserted. Even the place where Raoul had met his tragic end had been scrubbed clean, erasing at least the physical memory of his dreadful death. Mara was still gazing at the spot when she recognized a dapper figure striding through the courtyard.

She drew in her breath audibly, the ragged sound drawing Brendan’s attention. “’Tis too late.”

Brendan looked over Mara’s shoulder at the man just disappearing into the hacienda. “Was ever an entrance quite so ill-timed?” Brendan breathed. “Don Luís of all people.”

“Brendan, what are we going to do now?” Mara wailed, admitting for the first time in her life that she was frightened, as she remembered a pair of penetrating green eyes.

“The hell with our baggage, let’s just get the divil out of here,” he said with no pretense of showing a bold face. “Not that I think there’s anything they can really be doin’ to us. However, it’s bound to become a bit uncomfortable around here when the truth is known.”

“Now ye’re talkin’,” Jamie said as she began to bustle around the room, quickly picking up the scattered belongings. “We can always send for our possessions when things die down a bit.”

“Don’t pack more than what you can carry on horseback,” Brendan ordered as he made for the door. “I’ll see about some horses. Meet me in the stable yard in fifteen minutes. And try not to look too panic struck and obvious about it, will you, Mara? I’d prefer not to be hanged as a horse thief.”

Mara managed a tight smile. “Oh, no, I shall be as calm as if I were going out for an afternoon stroll.”

The sound of Paddy imitating a cannon drew Mara’s attention to him as he knelt on the floor and intently moved each soldier into a different position. “We don’t have time for you to be playing games, Paddy,” Mara reprimanded him, taking out her fear in impatient anger at Paddy.

Paddy pouted as he angrily swept all his wooden soldiers into a disorderly pile.

“Now don’t be actin’ naughty, Master Paddy,” Jamie intervened smoothly as she handed him the small chest the soldiers were stored in. “Ye put them away carefully now, while I pack your clothes.”

“Hurry. We haven’t time to neatly fold everything,” Mara reminded Jamie. She turned in the doorway and watched as Jamie folded with slow precision a small jacket and shirt of Paddy’s.

“Ye just get yourself busy and don’t be mindin’ about us. And don’t take time tryin’ to pack things yourself. Ye’ll just be slowin’ us up,” Jamie retorted without even glancing at Mara.

Mara hurried along the corridor to her room, thinking that Brendan didn’t even know half of the danger they found themselves in. She thought of Nicholas’s promise of vengeance. She had reached her door when she became aware of voices raised in anger coming from the study just a few doors down the corridor. Hesitating just briefly, Mara tiptoed along the passage, coming to a halt just before the opened door of Don Andres’s study. She could hear the voices within, but she couldn’t understand the conversation for they spoke in Spanish. The tone, at any rate, left little to the imagination. When she recognized her own name, and not the one she was currently known by, Mara knew it was all over.

She quickly fled to her room and began to throw together the more necessary items of clothing, stuffing them in bundles into the large tapestried bag she had previously carried for odds and ends. She placed her jewelry boxes inside, along with her beauty aids and brushes and combs. Mara began unhooking her dress, wishing Jamie would show up to help her as she struggled with the fastenings, her arms twisted behind her uncomfortably for what seemed hours. Finally, with a feeling of triumph, she undid the last hook and pulled the endless yards of gown over her head.

She was pulling out her riding habit when a knock sounded on the door. Mara held her breath, her heart beating erratically, until the first knock was followed by Brendan’s special tap. Mara sighed in relief as she opened the door, her tremulous smile fading when she saw who stood there.

“Nicholas,” Mara soundlessly mouthed his name.

Mara backed up as Nicholas stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with finality. Mara’s eyes were locked on his hard, bronzed features. His eyes glowed like the emeralds Mara had once seen in an ancient mask of gold. Those eyes had held no warmth either. Mara could feel the hatred and suppressed rage that burned in them now without even having to hear his voice. It flicked her like a whip.

“Mara O’Flynn,” he said softly. “So we meet. No more secrets or masquerades between us. I have your…” Nicholas paused questioningly, “
cousin
, is it, to thank for allowing me such easy access to your room. I heard him use his special knock the other evening.”

Mara licked her dry lips nervously, backing up another step as she widened the distance between them. Nicholas followed her deeper into the room.

Nicholas took in her scantily attired body, not missing the rapid and uneven movement of the swell of the breast above the lacy edge of her corset or the trembling of her parted lips. His gaze slowly traveled across her small waist and rounded hips to the pale slender thighs revealed by the opening on the inner part of her drawers. Her silk-clad calves and delicate ankles showed enticingly beneath the lacy hem edging the bottom of her drawers, while on her narrow feet she wore red broché silk slippers with slender straps tied around her ankles.

He came a step closer and held out something. “Why don’t you get dressed, ma petite?” he said softly, a cruel smile curving his sensuous lips.

Mara stared in amazement at the thick red velvet material thrown across his arm, and as she watched in fascination, he unfolded it. She gasped as she recognized the red velvet dress Jamie had returned to Julian that fateful day so long ago.

“I thought you might remember it. It did belong to you, didn’t it, Mara O’Flynn?” Nicholas lingered over her name as if he relished the sound of it. “A pity it’s never been worn. Put it on,” he ordered and threw it across to her.

Mara reached out instinctively as it was flung against her, her eyes widening in horror as she felt the soft fabric touching her skin. She stared into Nicholas’s green eyes, glowing with vengeful anticipation.

“I’ve always wondered how you would look in it,” he was saying in a reminiscent tone, but as Mara remained still it sharpened harshly. “I said put it on,” he warned, “if just to humor me. Just think of all of the trouble I went to, carrying it around all these years. But something told me not to throw it away, that I’d one day have the satisfaction of seeing you in it.”

Mara backed farther away from him, dropping the gown. She stared at him in trembling defiance.

“How did you find out?” Mara asked faintly. “Did Don Luís tell you?”

Nicholas smiled humorlessly. “You shouldn’t have run away so quickly from eavesdropping at Don Andres’s study door. I saw you, but before I could call out to you, you had disappeared in a rustle of skirts into your room. I followed, only to stop in surprise as I heard the conversation in the study. It was a most revealing discussion,” he explained coldly. “Didn’t you know I spoke Spanish? How remiss of me not to have told you. Of course, there are a lot to things about me you have no knowledge of, but I did warn you, ma petite, what kind of man I am. A pity you did not heed my advice.

“I don’t know why I should be at all surprised to find you involved in a conspiracy, knowing your past indiscretions as I do, but I am amazed at the coil you’ve managed to entangle yourself in. Life with you must be a constant struggle. No wonder Don Luís looks so ill, besides finding his land swindled and his son dead. He must have aged a century trying to keep an eye on you and your cousin,” he speculated. Shaking his head in disgust, he continued thoughtfully, “I can see now why Don Luís denied that you were Mara O’Flynn. He was in on the charade all along, and certainly didn’t want to be exposed before he could buy back his land. Mon Dieu, I must have shaken him when I mentioned your real name.”

“You spoke to Don Luís about me,” Mara demanded, adding almost beneath her breath, “and he never warned us?”

“Certainly my good fortune that he had no more faith in you than I do. Just imagine,” Nicholas taunted, “if you’d known, you could have been gone from here by now and never had the displeasure of having to face me with the truth.”

“You can’t do anything to me,” Mara told him bravely, wishing desperately that Jamie or Brendan would come.

“Can’t I?” Nicholas said, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “You and I have a score to settle, and you are the one owing up.”

“I’m sorry about your nephew. How was I to know he’d go and kill himself over me?” Mara said defiantly. Looking beyond Nicholas’s shoulders to the door, she missed the surprised expression in his eyes.

“Yes, you killed him, Mara O’Flynn,” Nicholas lied, preferring her to continue to believe she had been the cause of a boy’s death and suffer the responsibility of it on her conscience—if she had one, which he doubted. “How does it feel to be a murderess?”

Mara gasped. “I didn’t kill him! It wasn’t my fault, Nicholas!”

“Maybe you didn’t hold the pistol to his heart,” Nicholas said harshly, “but you might as well have pulled the trigger.”

Nicholas glanced down at the dress lying at Mara’s feet. “I think I deserve to see Mara O’Flynn in all her glory, don’t you? Put it on.”

“No,” Mara replied huskily.

“Very well,” Nicholas said grimly. Without warning he moved so quickly that he had grasped Mara’s arms before she had a chance to cry out. She felt his hard hands jerking her around, and picking up the dress, he forced it over her head. Pulling it carelessly over her shoulders, he gathered it together at the waist and she could feel his fingers against the soft skin of her back. He began to hook it up. Her hair had come loose during the struggle and now hung across her shoulder in a thick wave.

“How you must have laughed when I showed you the locket and your picture.” Mara felt his warm breath against her neck. “I knew I should have trusted my instincts when I first saw you and knew you were Mara O’Flynn.”

“Where did you see me?” Mara whispered.

“One of those fateful meetings. I happened to see you in a Sacramento City hotel. It must have been when you had just arrived in California.”

Mara bit her trembling lip as she felt his fingers viciously tightening the dress around her. She jumped as she felt the cold metal of the locket against her skin as it dangled between her breasts.

He turned her around, holding her at arm’s length as he stared down with a look of satisfaction.

The bodice was cut low and off the shoulder with the décolletage more daring than any Mara had ever worn before. The soft line of velvet barely covered the smooth swell of her breasts, pushed up by the stiff molding of her corset. Her skin seemed to glow with a pearly translucence in contrast to the rich burgundy of the velvet material. The gown hugged tightly to her waist, the velvet skirt falling in heavy folds to the floor.

“A perfect fit I’d say,” Nicholas remarked cynically, his fingers still biting into her upper arms beneath the small puffs of velvet that served as sleeves.

Mara’s eyes seemed to smolder with molten gold as she stared up into Nicholas’s hard face, her exquisite features still not revealing any of the fear that quivered within her.

“How can such a beautiful face hide so cold and calculating a mind?” Nicholas asked. “You would think some of your ugliness would show, but it doesn’t. Does it, Mara O’Flynn? You’re the consummate actress, always performing before the poor wretches fool enough to believe what those soft, lying lips are saying, or to fall under the spell of those bewitching golden eyes.”

Nicholas pulled her closer against his chest, his fingers tightening painfully on Mara’s arms until she cried out softly. “And were you acting again when I held you in my arms and made love to you, Mara O’Flynn? Did you feign that sweet response to my kisses and caresses? Or, for once,” Nicholas paused meaningfully, his green eyes fathomless, “were you the cat’s paw?”

Mara dragged her eyes away from the pitiless cruelty she saw in Nicholas’s face, her mind seeking desperately to hold onto reality. She must never let Nicholas know how his words wounded her. If he knew how deeply she loved him, he would be merciless in revenge, her love leaving her defenseless against him.

“Look at me, Mara O’Flynn,” Nicholas said harshly, his hard fingers closing around the point of her chin and forcing her face up to his. “Do you think the disdainfully haughty Mara O’Flynn, brilliant actress and beautiful deceiver, finally fell into a trap of her own making? Perhaps you really do love me?” Nicholas speculated silkily. “I pity you if you do, Mara O’Flynn.”

“Do not pity me, for ’twas an act and I do not love you,” Mara whispered brokenly, her face reminding Nicholas of carved marble, so cold and emotionless was it.

“No,” Nicholas said, a sneer curving his lips. “You wouldn’t know how. You like to bait a man, tease him and play with him until he would gladly die for one smile from those cruelly insensitive lips or just one glance from those insolent golden eyes. But this time you played the game recklessly. You were too confident of your own charms, too arrogant to even imagine that a man might not be attracted to you. That you might be just another pretty face, someone to spend a few amusing hours with. It was your own trap, Mara.”