The Beloved Woman (37 page)

“My husband accuses Vittorio of being too harsh with his vaqueros, but I think it is just that they manage their workers in different ways. Vittorio’s methods are not Miguel’s or my own.” She took Katherine’s hands and laughed. “But you are a guest, not a cow herder, and you will be treated very well indeed. I will visit you often, and you will always have the company of many fellow guests at Salazar’s home. In California the wilderness would swallow up travelers if we did not take them in. Vittorio is kindhearted that way. You will meet many fascinating people.”

That night, as she lay in bed with Mary asleep at her breast, Katherine allowed herself the luxury of memories and tears. Ten months had passed since her last day with Justis in New York. His betrayal hurt just as much now as it had when she’d learned of his marriage.

She dreamed about him that night; she saw him so clearly that he seemed within reach of her arms, and she ached to hold him again.
Don’t go with Salazar
, he told her.
It’s not safe. Trust me. I love you
.

Katherine woke up crying. He didn’t love her and never had. The dream’s warning must therefore be just as much a lie.

A
DELA’S DESCRIPTION HAD
been accurate—there were fascinating people at Vittorio’s beautiful rancho. The impressive two-story adobe hacienda overflowed with interesting travelers, some of whom Katherine had met at the Mendez rancho during the fiesta. At most times of the day or night she could look out the small window of her upper-gallery bedroom and see people strolling in the courtyard or conversing around the fountain at its center.

The estate provided wonderful food and wine, thanks to the labor of several hundred workers who cultivated the orchards and vineyards that covered its gentle hillsides. The guests, who included the governor’s cousin, a pair of burly Russian fur trappers, and a Mexican merchant traveling to Santa Barbara with his family, enjoyed a life of carefree overindulgence. Much as did Vittorio, Katherine quickly discovered.

With her gold in his safe and her presence guaranteed at his side, he was in no hurry to discuss the business of helping her acquire a land grant. After two weeks of growing impatience, she wanted no more of his silky evasions.

One evening after the other guests had gone to bed she
stayed up to play chess with him in his private library. In the light of a small table lamp she watched boredom flicker across his handsome, patrician face. Now was the moment, she decided.

“Would you mind discussing my plans for the future?” she asked pleasantly. “With fall coming on, I think I should start investigating the land hereabouts. I understand there are some beautiful valleys farther inland.”

“Our fall is hot and dry. There is no hurry.”

“I want to start planning a house. Can you at least find a craftsman to discuss the design with me?”

“Catalina, this is a rough land for a woman by herself. How would you fare with a large house and many servants to manage? Who would command your vaqueros and take your cattle hides to market?”

“I’m going to concentrate on farming, not ranching. I want to start orchards and vineyards. The inland valleys are perfect for that, from all I’ve heard.”

“But you have everything you need here.”

“Except a sense of
home.
” She smiled at him wistfully. “I have to create my own future in my own home.”

“Hmmm. You are insistent. Then it is time we talked seriously about your future. Yes.”

“Thank you. You don’t know how much I appreciate your compassion.”

Abruptly Vittorio rose and went to the library door. Katherine watched in bewilderment as he shut and locked it. He cut a dark, commanding figure in his tight jacket and trousers. Silver spurs clinked on his boots as he crossed the room to an ornately carved cabinet. His black hair had grown long during the ocean voyage; in the style of his people he wore it pulled back in a queue.

From one of the cabinet drawers he retrieved several black silk scarves. “Hold out one of your hands,” he said as he turned to her, smiling a little. “Before we talk I want to show you an entertaining trick of mine.”

Katherine sighed in exasperation but did as he asked.
He bent over her hand and quickly knotted one end of the scarf around the wrist. “Now let your arm rest on the arm of the chair. Yes. Like that.”

He tied her wrist to the thick wood. She shifted impatiently on the upholstered seat. “If there were a fire, I would certainly roast, sir. I couldn’t drag this heavy chair one inch. Hurry with your parlor trick.”

“Be calm,
querida
. I have much to show you.”

He tugged on the big chair, sliding it around on the red-tiled floor to face him. “Your other hand, please.”

She frowned as he secured it to the chair’s other arm. “Aha,” she said. “These are some sort of magician’s knots. If I pull a certain way, they’ll come free.”

“No,” he said softly. “I’m certain that they won’t.”

His game struck a chord of alarm in her as he slipped a scarf around her ankle. “Let’s forego this silliness and talk business,” she said as he tied her ankle to the chair leg. “I have to check on Mary soon. I don’t like to leave her with the servants too long—”

“Just a moment more.”

He tied her other ankle to a chair leg, then rose, studying her intensely. Her throat went dry as she saw a flush darken his olive complexion; his eyes burned with a fervor that seemed almost sexual. “Untie me,” she ordered as fear raced up her spine. “This is an undignified game.”

“You will learn to like it. I promise.”

Suddenly he rested his fist against her mouth and shoved hard. She gasped, and he jammed his knuckles so far between her teeth that her jaw stretched with painful pressure. She stared up at him in utter shock and struggled against the chair’s bindings. With silent rage and terror she cursed her naiveté.

Her blue silk dress had a wide, rounded neckline. Vittorio sank his free hand into the front of it and tore the material open. She screamed uselessly and bit into his knuckles.

His low moan of pain and pleasure horrified her. Dark
eyes glittering under half-shut lids, he casually ripped her undershirt down the center and jerked the torn halves back on either side. She made a high-pitched keening sound of fury that changed to distress when he twisted the nipple of one milk-swollen breast.

“Now listen to me, Catalina,” he murmured. His fingers went to the other breast and repeated the torture. Sweat broke out on Katherine’s forehead and pinpoints of light danced in her vision. “Listen, my beautiful Catalina.” His chest moved swiftly. She groaned with more horror when she noticed the thick bulge straining at the front of his trousers. She bit into his knuckles and tasted his blood, then bit harder.

He shivered in his strange, delighted way but squeezed her breast so viciously that tears came to her eyes. “I will bruise you until you cannot nurse your child,” he promised. “Enough biting. A lady does not bite.”

She relaxed her aching jaw and gazed at him with hatred. He shook his head. “You must depend on my influence now, Catalina. You are alone in a foreign place. You are nothing but an American—and not even a white American. It is not legal for Americans to settle here, but our government ignores the law to encourage trade. The law, however, can be enforced if we wish.”

He slid his hand back and forth on her naked shoulder, stroking so roughly the skin burned. “Adela would never believe you if you tell her about tonight, so do not think of it. You should not risk insulting one of the few true friends you have. I know that you are shocked, but that will pass. Besides, you don’t really want to leave me. You and your beautiful daughter. You love her very much, don’t you, Catalina, and would never want to see her hurt. No. We will enjoy a very amicable relationship, Catalina. Very beneficial for you.”

He put his hand on one of her wrists, caressing the black scarf with his fingertips. “This is the only kind of
pleasure I will ask from you. I will never use you in the ugly way other men demand of ladies. You will learn to appreciate the honor I am doing you.” He hesitated. His gaze was tender as it moved over her. “You are so special. Such a fine lady, and yet you have the needs of a savage. How do I know?”

He smiled and raked his fingernails down her chest. “No woman of delicate sensibilities would have married a man as low and coarse as your husband. Oh, Catalina, I revere the contradictions in your nature. From the very first I knew I would never find another woman with such a perfect blend of desire and control.”

She twisted her head and struggled to keep from gagging. He ground his fist deeper into her mouth and crooned soothing words. She willed herself not to panic. A mind such as Vittorio’s was capable of rationalizing any cruel deed. She had to remain calm enough to bargain with him. She had to remain calm for Mary’s sake.

What if he were telling the truth about Adela’s reaction? Perhaps Adela had known about his sick nature all along—perhaps she even considered it normal. That didn’t seem likely, but Katherine couldn’t trust anyone but herself at the moment.

“I adore you, Catalina,” he whispered. “I will treat you as if you were my wife. Better than that, even, because I never shared these honors with my wife. Do you understand how precious you are to me? Does that please you?”

Katherine’s stomach roiled. She gazed up at his utterly gentle eyes and forced herself to nod. When trapped, she would play by his rules. When free, she would plot her escape—and her revenge.

“No hysteria?” he asked, watching her closely. “If I remove my hand? No indelicate screaming?”

She nodded again. Slowly he pulled his fist from her mouth. Her jaw had been growing numb; now shards of sensation ran through the joints like knife pricks. “You
drive an interesting bargain, Vittorio,” she finally managed to say.

He laughed. “I should have known you would not be offended. Your Indian blood makes you more difficult to hurt. You are strong.” He stroked her face with the back of one finger. “That will make our games more interesting.”

“Are we finished for tonight?”

“Yes. I know you have much to think about. I also know that my kind of pleasure is particularly exhausting. Go and rest.” He brushed a fingertip over her mauled nipples. “I will not hurt you in this way again until after your daughter is weaned. I am not a cruel man.”

She nearly choked. As she stared at him in shock, he untied her. When she was free she made herself move calmly, though her hands trembled as she pulled her torn clothes back together. Vittorio watched with a pleased expression.

“I see your fear and doubts,” he murmured hoarsely. “They do honor to the more sensitive aspects of your nature. I treasure them.”

“You are … remarkable.
Buenas noches.
”

He bowed, then went to the door and unlocked it. Katherine walked numbly from the library. When she reached her bedroom she ignored the servant girl’s curious stares and took Mary from her without a word. After the girl left, Katherine sat by the window and gazed at the sleeping baby, holding her in a streak of golden moonlight.

“Your father would kill the madman for this,” she whispered brokenly. “No matter the consequences. If I didn’t have you to consider, my love, I would do the same. Tonight.”

She cradled Mary to her shoulder and rocked. Her mind churned with escape plans, but all of them posed too much risk. If anything went wrong, Mary would suffer.

Toward dawn Katherine lay down with Mary nestled against her side. She shut her eyes and prayed softly. She would wait. Until the time was right to strike back she would do whatever Vittorio asked.

O
VER THE NEXT
few days Vittorio acted as if nothing odd had passed between them. His manner was courtly, his smile genuine. Katherine felt as if she were balanced on the edge of a precipice waiting to be shoved to her death. The distress affected her milk, and Mary protested with hungry wails. Katherine was forced to request a wet nurse from among the servants.

Vittorio sent a note to her as she was dressing one morning.
I will come to your room tonight, my love. You seem ready
.

It was all she could do to sit at the breakfast table with him. Only the presence of a dozen other guests saved her from revealing her fury and fear. With a determination that drained all her energy she focused her attention on a newcomer. “Did you arrive yesterday, sir?”

The man, a lanky Mexican in clothes still dirty from the trail, nodded. “
Sí
. I am guiding a group of settlers to the Valley of the Sun.”

“Where is that, señor?”

“Two days’ ride east of here. It is a place for farmers. The valley lies too many miles from the coast for the taste of the rancheros. Who wants to haul cattle hides so far to market?”

“Who named it Valley of the Sun?”

“The Indians. Many years ago they had a village there—before the priests built missions and offered civilization to the people.”

“The farmers, where are they from?”

“They are Americans,” Vittorio interjected. “Too many Americans. But I will not protest as long as they mind their own business.”

Her own countrymen
. Katherine could barely wait until the meal was finished. Carrying Mary, she went outdoors and made her way through the outbuildings until she found the settlers’ camp in the shade of an oak grove. Their group consisted of six solemn, worn-looking families who shared five rickety wagons and five pairs of gaunt oxen. Katherine introduced herself, and as soon as they got over their shock at meeting such an unusual compatriot, they asked her to sit with them and talk.

“We came by ship from Boston and put every penny we had left into provisions for an inland journey,” their leader told her.

He was a tall, gray-haired pillar of a man with an orator’s voice and a New England accent. What dream would make such a man travel so far, Katherine wondered.

“You wouldn’t be missionaries, would you?” she asked cautiously. The furtive looks he and the others gave her confirmed her suspicion. “Your secret is safe with me. What church?”