Return of the Fox

by Pamela Gibson

  Facing the marriage bed on her wedding night had been difficult. Vicenta, her stepmother, had taken her aside and explained the duties of a wife in the sleeping chamber. The conversation had been awkward and embarrassing, with Isabella staring at the floor, hot and uncomfortable, wishing she could be anywhere but sitting on the edge of her bed, listening to her stepmother’s halting explanation.

  Vicenta had thought Isabella’s red-stained cheeks were a measure of her stepdaughter’s modesty. They weren’t. Isabella already knew what went on between a man and a woman—had experienced it with Gabriel. She would never feel pleasure with any other man.

  If Tomas had noticed her lack of maidenhead, he chose to ignore it. She became a dutiful wife, going through the motions of living while inside she’d been as lifeless as the straw doll she’d played with as a child.

  In time she’d learned to care for her husband.

  So why was this dream haunting her?

  Because Gabriel is back in my life, whether I like it or not.

  She had to admit he’d been tender and caring while he’d seen to her needs last night. Had he come to her room with seduction in mind? She certainly hadn’t given him encouragement in the garden. Or had she?

  Closing her eyes, she remembered his kiss, full of need and the promise of passion. Her body had wanted to press into his, all her sensitive places begging to be touched. And he’d complied, holding her so close she’d thought she might melt into him, letting her feel his arousal.

  After she’d slapped him, she’d fled as if the hounds of hell snapped at her heels. She’d run because she was afraid of the feelings that surfaced when he was near. If she allowed herself to feel again, he would hurt her, maybe even worse than he had before.

  Then he appeared in my room and treated me with simple kindness.

  His moments of gentleness unsettled her the most.

  She much preferred the sarcastic Gabriel, the one with the barbed tongue who taunted and teased, forcing her to think of a clever comeback. That relationship was so much safer. That Gabriel could be dismissed and eventually overlooked while she enjoyed the attentions of men like Christopher Sutherland.

  Stop it. Too much introspection over a stupid dream.

  She stretched and stared at the ceiling. It was long past time to get up. The journey out of town to the rancho where the rodeo was to take place would take over an hour.

  Catalina brought in her chocolate just as she was about to rise.

  “Good morning, Señora Isabella. Are you feeling better today?” She set a tray on a table next to the four-poster bed, handing her mistress a steaming cup. “I also put some pan dulce on the tray, if you feel you can eat.”

  “You’re very good to me, Catalina.”

  The maid smiled and left the room.

  Breaking off a piece of the sweet bread, she realized she was quite hungry, with no trace of the headache or stomach upsets of the day before. Perhaps she could face this day after all. After draining her cup, she threw off the covers and jumped out of bed. Sunlight streamed through the windows as she opened the drapes. She’d stayed in bed far too long.

  A knock at the door made her wary. Gabriel wouldn’t invade her rooms again, would he? It would be just like him to come on the pretext of asking after her health. But no, the voice she heard was Sorina’s. The door was flung open, and her friend stood there, hands on hips, head tilted.

  “You are still abed? Are you ill?” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Did you entertain a gentleman last night? Oh, Isabella, I hope so. You’ve been a widow for far too long.”

  Alarmed, Isabella tried to come up with a distraction. Not finding anything, she turned and put on her robe. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because Lance saw you leave with Christopher last night, and neither of you returned to the party.”

  Isabella let out her breath, unaware she’d been holding it. Sorina didn’t mean Gabriel then. Somehow it was a relief.

  “You are misreading the situation,” she said. “I wasn’t feeling well, so Captain Sutherland kindly escorted me to my room.”

  “Are you sure that’s all that happened?” Sorina prompted.

  She faced her best friend in the world, hands planted on her hips. “Yes. Now let me look at you. Are you ready for the day’s festivities? You’re still strutting like the cat that stole the cook’s cream.”

  “Oh, Isabella, I never thought I could be this happy.” She laughed and gave Isabella a quick hug. “Marriage is so wonderful . . . not having to hide our love or flee in order to stay together. Grandpapa and Great-aunt Consuelo are happy for me, too. And Gabriel, of course.”

  “Of course.” Isabella hoped the conversation would not turn to Gabriel. Sorina was unaware of their past history, only what she saw in the present, and was not shy about expressing her opinion on the subject.

  “Speaking of Gabriel . . .”

  “Let’s not. I’m not going to be ready on time if we continue this conversation, and I don’t want to miss riding in the grand coach your grandfather borrowed to take us to the rancho.”

  Sorina raised one eyebrow. Isabella hoped her friend wasn’t speculating about why she changed the subject. Time was passing. Proper toilettes took an age. It was a reasonable excuse.

  “All right, but I want to talk to you about him another time.”

  “I promise. Go to your husband.”

  Sorina left, and Isabella crammed the rest of the roll into her mouth. On cue, Catalina was there, laying a day dress on the bed. Isabella wanted to look her best and had less than an hour to do it. Christopher would be at the rodeo, and she was sure he was playing the suitor. Did she want that?

  And Gabriel?

  She wouldn’t think about him right now. The dream and the feelings that went with it were still fresh and perplexing and might be about him. Truth be told, she wasn’t wary of Gabriel. She was wary of herself.

  ~ ~ ~

  The carriage was crowded, but it was large enough to hold six passengers in comfort, with Isabella squeezed between Sorina and Tía Consuelo. The two young flower girls sat opposite with their mother, and the men rode alongside.

  Consuelo, Sorina’s elderly great-aunt, wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “Was it not the loveliest ceremony, Isabella? It equaled the marriage of Sorina’s mother to Señor Braithwaite. You were there, were you not?” She peered into Isabella’s face. “Oh no, I am confusing you with your dear mother, may she rest in peace.”

  Isabella patted the woman’s arm, managing a smile. “I am told I am the picture of my mother in her youth. Don’t feel bad, because you were confused for a moment.”

  “Alas, I seem to be confused a great deal these days.”

  Isabella glanced at Sorina, hoping she’d enter the conversation, but her friend, as usual, had her nose buried in a book. How could she read those English novels in a moving coach? Isabella preferred classics, and thankfully Don Tomas had stocked the library with her favorites to encourage her to move rapidly through her studies. As far as she knew, she and Sorina were the only women in their circle who could read and write, although Sorina had started a school for the children of her servants to make sure they had a modicum of education to help them survive when the territory changed hands. Both boys and girls were included.

  Isabella admired Sorina for her courage. Not everyone in their social class thought education was necessary, and certainly not for females and servants, although many hidalgos hired tutors for their sons.

  Her gaze rested on the two young girls sitting across from her. One was eagerly looking out the window, while the other clutched her rosary, her head bowed. Their mother, the wife of a wealthy ranchero who lived south of Mission San Juan Capistrano, dozed, her head lolling as the carriage lurched and swayed.

  What woul
d become of girls like these two, bred for a life of leisure? Since Gabriel came home, he’d often expounded on the changes that were coming. If the hidalgos didn’t take heed, they’d lose their land. They must secure their deeds and save their money. People moving west were land hungry. Fences must be built so squatters could be rousted.

  It was enough to make her head ache.

  Where did he get his strange notions? At first, she had not encouraged his lectures, and had only heard them while visiting the Vegas. Lately she paid closer attention and took it upon herself to improve her knowledge.

  At Sorina’s insistence, she had read through portions of a legal book . . . something Sorina pulled from a trunk of items that should have contained her trousseau.

  The heavy volume was a summary of American land policies she’d procured from an American trading ship. Isabella plodded through it, hoping to at least grasp concepts and terminology.

  She’d also listened to Gabriel, who’d spent most of his exile in the employ of a man conversant with the law, a man Gabriel was sure would one day figure prominently in a new government, either here or in Oregon.

  She’d been glad she’d taken the time to understand the policies when Drake Logan first came calling. He’d thrown out all kinds of words she’d filed away at the time and later looked up in the glossary at the back of Sorina’s law book. Standing with his legs apart, a smug expression on his face, he’d thought she would beg him to give her a pen to sign away her property. He’d grown very angry that day.

  And dangerous, if his threats were to be believed.

  As much as she hated to admit it, she might need help with getting rid of him. Sorina would offer Lance. While his language and diplomatic skills were as polished as his seamanship, his knowledge of American land policies was limited. Christopher would help, but he was still on active duty.

  She taxed her brain for the best person to consult. None of the rancheros of Tomas’s generation had the knowledge she needed, except perhaps Abel Stearns or John Forster. Stearns was not only a busy merchant, he was now engaged in real estate transactions of his own. Forster, while close by at Mission San Juan Capistrano, was often absent managing several ranchos totaling over one hundred thousand acres.

  Which left one obvious choice.

  She closed her eyes, and Gabriel’s face floated into view. There was a time when his image had been in her mind constantly. She’d find herself staring into space, reliving every expression, every movement of his body, every sound he’d made, from his sighs to his laughter.

  She recalled every touch, gentle and rough, as his need for her grew urgent, and how his mouth teased and tasted every inch of her.

  Her body tingled at the memory of his mouth covering her nipple, the gentle pull of his lips while his fingers drifted lower to the part that ached for his touch. She remembered tightening around his fingers as he brought her to fulfillment before mounting her.

  The pleasure had been so intense. She’d never felt anything before or since to equal it, and here he was, back in her life, making her recall every sweet climax as if they’d made love just yesterday.

  “Are you all right? Is it too warm in here for you?” Tía Consuelo’s voice yanked her out of her fantasy.

  “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

  “Your breathing seemed . . . labored, and you moaned.”

  Cheeks flaming, Isabella tried to disappear into her seat, not daring to look at Sorina, who probably thought she was thinking about Christopher Sutherland. Was she smirking? “I’m fine, señora. Just warm, as you said.”

  “What you need is a cool drink. I certainly hope they serve refreshments as soon as we arrive. I’m parched. You must be, too.” Tía lifted her fan and began moving it up and down in a steady motion.

  The moving air cooled Isabella, who studied her hands. She must not have such thoughts about Gabriel. She must not allow those memories to surface.

  She’d made up her mind.

  Gabriel had used his time in exile to train in the law. He’d been an aide to a judge named Peter Burnett in the Oregon Territory, a brilliant but unpleasant man with huge political ambitions and blatant prejudices, according to Gabriel.

  Her former lover was the ideal person to consult.

  If Gabriel treated her the way he had last night, like a friend, all would be well. If not? If he wanted to resume their old relationship?

  God help me.

  Chapter 9

  The coach finally arrived at the rancho where the entertainments were to take place, and not a minute too soon for Isabella. Stretching as best she could in the confined space, she breathed deeply when the door was flung open and fresh air filled the interior of the stuffy coach. Lance Grainger assisted Sorina’s great-aunt first, followed by the young girls and their mother. She and Sorina were last.

  “How was your ride? Bumpy?” The man had an engaging grin that made her want to respond in kind. She could understand Sorina’s attraction.

  “You know this road all too well, Señor Grainger.”

  He chuckled as Isabella grasped his hand and stepped down, following the group to the site set up for spectators of the calf roping competition, which was to take place in a fenced corral. Blankets were spread on a nearby knoll, so those who were watching could see the exhibition without having to stand next to the dusty enclosure. When all the competitions ended, a picnic lunch would be served, the food and utensils brought out to the assembled guests.

  Isabella spread her skirts in a spot shaded by a huge oak. Servants had come earlier, laying down straw and blankets so the ground would not be so hard. August in Alta California was dry, and the grass had long since died, but the day was pleasant, and the smell of beef cooking on spits over open pits made her long for lunch.

  Sorina plopped down beside her, a small-brimmed bonnet tied firmly under her chin. “Is it not a beautiful day? I’m so glad it’s not too hot. Lance says Grandfather insists on joining in the roping, and his health has not been the best of late. I do wish Gabriel could talk some sense into him.”

  “What of Lance? Will he be roping cattle, too?”

  “He wants to, but I doubt if he could catch anything today. He was up most of the night catching me.”

  Isabella faced her smug friend and raised an eyebrow. “I daresay, I won’t ask any questions on that subject. However, I am sure you weren’t hard to catch.”

  They laughed together, watching the other guests find places on the blankets. Isabella was struck by Sorina’s transformation. Had it been just last year she’d been a young girl soaking up advice about what took place in the marriage bed? Now she was a mature woman, with a husband and a life overflowing with love.

  How quickly things change.

  “There’s Uncle Gabriel.” Sorina raised a finger, pointing to the side of the corral.

  “Is he going to participate?”

  “No, no. He’s going to start and time the competitors.”

  “He knows how to cast the rope. I’ve seen him do it during the spring branding.”

  “But it would be awkward, would it not? The man in charge of the rodeo competing? What if he won?” Sorina grinned. “At least that’s what he said when he declined.”

  “He’s probably right.” Isabella scanned the group inside the corral, easily spotting Gabriel, who stood a head taller than the others. And it would reveal to strangers that he is not the oblivious, skittish caballero he seems to want others to believe.

  She’d once quizzed him about his new persona, and his reply had been telling. “A fox stays alive by outwitting his would-be captors. I choose to be a fox.”

  Sorina stood and waved. “There’s Lance. He must be helping Gabriel.”

  “Can you see Captain Sutherland? He said he was coming today.” A sound behind her made her whirl around. T
he subject of her search stood behind her.

  “Did I hear someone call my name?” Christopher bowed in a formal manner. “May I join you ladies?”

  Isabella couldn’t help smiling as she looked up into his handsome face. “We’d be honored to have your company, wouldn’t we, Sorina?”

  A ghost of a smile played around Sorina’s mouth. She extended her hand to the captain, who kissed the air above it in the English style. “You’re the picture of happiness today, Mrs. Grainger. Marriage suits you.”

  Sorina blushed and turned to look straight at Isabella. “Thank you. I highly recommend it.”

  Isabella rolled her eyes and shook her head. Sorina was always trying to pair her with someone, the latest being Christopher or Gabriel. Isabella would not marry again and bend her will to her husband’s, even if the man was not condescending or controlling. Independence was too precious.

  She turned her attention to Christopher. “Will you be participating in any of the activities today?”

  “I gave some thought to the horse race, but there are too many good racers in the group. Sean Mitchell told me my Cavalier didn’t have a chance against Juan Avila’s Bolero, so I decided to enjoy myself in the company of beautiful ladies.”

  “You are a flatterer, Captain.” Isabella lowered her chin, hoping she didn’t appear to be coy. She truly enjoyed Christopher’s company, but with Sorina’s comment ringing in her ears, she didn’t want to lead him on.

  “It isn’t flattery when it’s the truth. You’re a beautiful woman, and I hope to get to know you better.” He gazed at her with longing, and a warm glow spread through her body. Maybe there was hope for her after all. If anyone could make her forget the passion Gabriel inspired—passion that was going nowhere—perhaps the man sitting next to her could.