Savage Desire

by Rosemary Rogers

  Luna had merely smiled, eyes appraising her with a steady confidence that made her want to slap him for his insolence. The man was disgusting!

  But now that she was here to speak to Díaz, who was preparing for his triumphant return to Mexico City since the defeat of Lerdo’s army, she realized that she was nervous. If he did not grant Lerdo safe conduct, would he consider her part of the rebellion? An enemy?

  After eleven months of fighting, the revolt had succeeded despite initial reverses, just as Steve predicted. It was time for the victor to claim his prize.

  Once in the presence at last of Porfirio Díaz, Ginny lost some of her nervousness, remembering the man she had met years before. They spoke congenially about their work together after the last revolution, and she was careful to avoid mention of Juarez and his renunciation of Díaz.

  “But you have changed hardly at all, Señora Alvarado, except, of course, to grow more beautiful.”

  He swept her a gallant bow, his eyes frankly admiring as he stared at her elegant, stylish gown, a shot silk of emerald green to match her eyes, with full skirts pulled up and draped at the rear over a wire cage. The gown’s bustline was accentuated by white lace edging that fringed her bare skin and emphasized the faint shadow between her breasts.

  “As always, you are far too gallant, Don Porfirio. Or I should call you el presidente now?”

  “Not quite yet, but soon, very soon.” An expansive smile curved his mouth as he poured an excellent French wine into crystal glasses. Stocky, with intense dark eyes and the broad features of his Indian heritage, Díaz smiled at her over the gold-trimmed rim of the glass. “It has, at last, come to fruition. My years of work and planning, my time in exile—now is to be rewarded. I shall lead Mexico, champion liberal principles, more municipal democracy. Lerdo was too soft, and granted far too many concessions to the United States railway interests. It profited my country nothing, but I shall change that.”

  “You intend to stop all foreign investments?”

  “On the contrary, señora. I intend to make foreign investments more profitable for Mexico. First, we must have internal stability. Banditry is rampant, so much so that it frightens away foreign investors. Already I have started to scour the country of many of these bandits. Others, however, will be more useful to me.”

  As he talked, Ginny took careful note of an unobtrusive cleric seated at an ornate desk in the far corner of the room. He scribbled constantly in a ledger, head down, seemingly absorbed in his work. In taking up the reins of power, Díaz would be assailed by many requests for favors; and now she must make her own pleas as well.

  At a pause in his outline of proposals for Mexico’s future, Ginny asked, “And what of Lerdo de Tejada? Do you intend to imprison him?”

  “Ah, now we get to the heart of the reason for your visit, I see. You are escorted by Rafael Luna, who is known to Lerdo as well. Do you come to ask a favor for yourself or for Lerdo?”

  “Both.” Boldly meeting his shrewd gaze, she stood up and set her nearly untouched glass of wine on a table. “As a man of honor, I assured Lerdo that you would treat him with the respect due a man who has fought well for his country. A difference in politics may make men enemies, but should not make them dishonorable.”

  Díaz regarded her thoughtfully. “What is it that Lerdo requires of me?”

  “Safe passage from Mexico.”

  “Ah, and that is all? Should I give him his freedom so that he may go and conspire against me, plot to retrieve the power he wielded so badly? I think not, señora.”

  “He will be an exile, and no threat to you. He wishes to leave Mexico, to go and live with friends.”

  “Such as an American senator, perhaps? You seem surprised, señora. Did you think I would not investigate, would not find out that your father has received many beneficial concessions from Lerdo? While I see the definite advantage to American investments, I do not approve of granting so much power to men who only a few years ago were our enemies.”

  “That war is behind us. So is the revolution that has earned you the presidency, if I may be so bold as to remind you of that, el presidente. It is time to look to the future and let the past be forgotten.”

  “A woman with brains as well as beauty—an anomaly that I admire, Señora Alvarado.” Díaz smiled slightly. “I do not agree that the past should be forgotten, for men who do not remember their own history often find they must suffer the same fates again. But I will grant Lerdo safe passage, upon my own terms, of course.”

  He drained the last of his wine. “And as for you, what is it you wish to ask of me? I know there must be something, for you have the look of a desperate woman about you.”

  “You are very perceptive, Your Excellency. Yes, I do have a request of my own.”

  She told him about Steve, and how he had disappeared from the village the night Luna abducted her, and the men she had seen weighted down in chains and escorted by Lerdo’s soldiers.

  “I fear he is in a prison somewhere,” she said, keeping the tremor out of her voice with an effort. “And I have not been allowed to get a message to his grandfather, for Luna treats me as if I am a prisoner as well!”

  “I think General Luna will have his uses, but in this he has erred. We will make inquiry and find your husband if he has, indeed, been made a prisoner. But tell me, why would he be arrested? He is not one of the notorious bandits, is he? No?”

  “I don’t know why…I only know that he has disappeared and I believe that Luna knows what happened to him.”

  Rafael Luna, however, disavowed any knowledge with a shrug and deprecating denial. “No, Your Excellency, I do not recall an Esteban Alvarado, or a Steve Morgan the night we routed the cantina. It was only a routine raid, you understand, for we learned that there were men who smuggled many rifles across the border. Bandits, of course, seeking to sell them to whoever would pay. There was a trial, and the men were convicted of smuggling.”

  Ginny’s heart dropped. Was that why Steve had been there? It must be true…all those heavy crates, the baggage that he’d sent ahead, with Butch Casey and the other men to guard it.

  Oh, Steve! Oh, damn you, Steve Morgan, for being so reckless!

  He had been caught smuggling rifles, and there would be nothing she could do to save him—unless Díaz granted him clemency.

  25

  When Ginny returned to Mexico City and the small apartment on the Calle Manzanares, a summons from Lerdo awaited her. Though exhausted, she went immediately to the palace, where she was given a telegram. It was from her father, a terse message that she must contact him at once.

  Surprised that he knew where she was, Ginny wrote him, telling him about Steve, begging for his help in finding him. Now that Lerdo had his promise of safe conduct from Mexico, he had no more use for her, and granted her the permission to leave Mexico City at her convenience.

  Ginny returned from the palace near midnight, hopeful that her father would receive this message, and wished she had dared contact Don Francisco as well. The interview with Lerdo had been draining. The former president was gone from Mexico City now, fleeing before the triumphant entry of Díaz, his passage from the country to New York arranged.

  With Brandon’s assistance, he would safely reach refuge in New York. But what of her? Perhaps she should have left with him, but could she abandon Steve? If she left Mexico now, she might well never find him, never be able to discover what had happened to him. Men were all too frequently lost in the corrupt judicial system, and with the change of presidents making things even more chaotic, delay could be fatal.

  No, she would stay in Mexico, though not here. Not with Rafael Luna so close and dangerous, though Lerdo was skeptical of the man’s intentions.

  “He is merely Spanish,” he’d repeated as if that reason excused and explained Luna’s blatant threats to her.

  Frustrated, Ginny knew that flight was her only protection from him. She would go to Don Francisco at once.

  But when morning came, Rafael
Luna was at her door with a message from Díaz. “He requests that you remain in Mexico City, señora, for he recalls your assistance to him before.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” Already dressed to leave, Ginny stared back at Luna with defiance and growing dismay. Three uniformed policia were behind him, and moved to stand on each side of the door, as if guarding it.

  Luna intercepted her glance and smiled. “And I am afraid that you have no choice at the moment.”

  Seething, Ginny refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her rising panic, and merely nodded coldly. “I will be glad to meet with Díaz at his leisure.”

  There was no point in arguing with Luna; only Díaz would be able to help her now.

  But an audience with Díaz grew impossible to achieve in the following days, while Ginny grew more desperate. Luna became more persistent, more bold, too confident in his invulnerability.

  He has his feet in both camps, she fumed, and whichever way the wind blew was the way he leaned. He was only in Mexico to further his own interests.

  It mystified her why Díaz did not dismiss Rafael Luna and send him back to Spain, but he was allowed to remain in the country and in the employ of the president. The switch of his allegiance from Lerdo to Díaz was immediate.

  “You are a traitor,” she accused Luna, and he laughed.

  “I prefer to think of myself as a chameleon, mi bella,” he had murmured, “able to change colors as needed. But then, is that not true of most men involved in politics? What of your father? Your husband?”

  “Don’t you dare mention them to me! I know you know where Steve is. Why won’t you tell me?”

  “Is it that important to you? But I had understood that it was a marriage of convenience, a union merely for appearances’ sake. You have both had many lovers, and the marriage is a farce. It is true, is it not?”

  Biting her lip, Ginny stared at him in frustration. She could not deny the truth of the past, but it was the past, not the present. Not the future.

  “Steve and I have not always been close, no,” she said at last. “But our children have brought us together.”

  “Ah, the children. Of course. There are three, are there not?”

  “Twins,” she replied stiffly, “but I refuse to discuss my children with you!”

  “Only two?” Luna frowned, shaking his head at her. “Ah no, I could not be wrong. I was told there are three.”

  “Not unless there’s another one I don’t know about,” Ginny said irritably, turning away to walk to the long window that looked out on the street.

  Behind her, Luna’s laugh sounded rueful. “But, of course, that is it. I had forgotten. My apologies, señora, for forgetting that you are not the mother of the other child.”

  Ginny turned slowly away from the window to stare at him. “That is a lie. There is no other child.”

  “Ah, but you are mistaken. There is a child, a son, I believe, who lives in New Mexico Territory with his mother.”

  Suddenly cold, Ginny began to shiver uncontrollably, and moved to stand in front of the fireplace where a low blaze cast a small pool of heat beyond brass firedogs. It wasn’t true, couldn’t be true! They had no more secrets between them, had told each other everything. But she recalled with a sudden sense of nausea that it had been she who had confessed, she who told Steve about all the others in her past. He had told her nothing.

  Oh, she hadn’t wanted to hear about the women, for she knew there were many, but this was different. This was something important, something she should have been told. A child was not just a casual affair, a night or two in another woman’s bed. A child changed everything.

  Had that been the reason for his trip to New Mexico? Not Sam Murdock, but the mother of his child? Oh God!

  Luna stood there watching her with that faint, supercilious smile on his mouth, as if he knew she had not known.

  And, of course, he did. That was the reason he had told her, the reason he watched her so carefully to gauge her reaction. She refused to let him see the depth of her devastation.

  “Really, Señor Luna, you are not so foolish as to think I would consider another woman’s child as my own, I hope. My husband and I have led separate lives much of our marriage and I simply cannot keep up with everything.”

  “You are very European, Señora Alvarado. Not many women from America would be so casual about their husband’s child with another woman.”

  “Perhaps because I was not reared in America but in France, or perhaps because I have not always been uninvolved myself. But you know that, as you seem to have made quite a study of my life. Really, General Luna, I cannot understand why you have this strange obsession with me. It is unhealthy to be so deeply engrossed with the life of someone you do not know, nor will ever know.”

  “Ah, but I intend to change that.” He moved toward her, eyes gleaming in the light of lamps and the fire. “When I first saw you, dancing there in Ojinaga, I decided I must have you. You have the soul of a courtesan, the fire of a Spanish gypsy. And I,” he said softly, “make it a point to get what I want.”

  Coldly, she said, “You are too insolent! It is time for you to leave, before I summon Artur to evict you.”

  “That old man?” He laughed contemptuously. “He could not throw out bathwater, señora, and you know it. No, I will stay as long as I like, long enough to convince you that you need my favor to find your husband.”

  “And I presume that your favor comes with a price.”

  “Ah, you are very clever. Yes, all things worth having come with a price. It is up to you to decide what is worth more to you—your pride or your husband.”

  Bitterly, Ginny thought that it always came down to this, and always she was presented with intolerable choices.

  “I refuse to bargain with you, General Luna,” she said icily. “A man who would make such a bargain would not keep it. I have had experience with men like you before. I will not sell myself.”

  “Not even for your husband?”

  “Steve would not wish to be free at such a price.”

  “A pity.” Luna reached out to touch her cheek, smiling when she stepped back to avoid his caress. “I would have kept my bargain. But your refusal does not lessen my desire for you. It would have been better if you came willingly to me.”

  “That will never happen, General.”

  “Ah, do not be so certain, Señora Alvarado. One never knows what may happen in a moment of passion.”

  “I seriously doubt you have ever known real passion. You seem more the type to demand it, when it is meant to be freely given. But perhaps no woman has ever felt it for you without it being demanded, so you would not know that.”

  A hot light sprang into his eyes, a glitter that made her take a step back. A muscle twitched in his cheek as he stared at her. “It is true that few women have felt the kind of passion that I require, but you are a woman who is accustomed to passion. You were born for it. You will not disappoint me.”

  To Ginny, it sounded like a threat.

  26

  Steve Morgan had lost track of time. Endless days and nights were separated only by routine. In the deep recesses of the mine, he survived by sheer will alone.

  The sting of the whips came less frequently now, though often enough. Food was scarce, just enough to keep grown men alive and able to work. His belly growled constantly. Was anyone searching for him yet? They would eventually realize that he had disappeared involuntarily. By now Paco would have managed to find out what had happened to him. He and Bishop would probably be forming a strategy plan.

  But Ginny could very well be angry, thinking that he’d left her again, as he had so many times before.

  Christ, it’s no more than I deserve if she does….

  Regret dogged him, an unfamiliar emotion. He tried not to think, not of Ginny, or escape, but only of survival. And when it was at its worst, he again used the method Gopal had taught him so long ago, and focused on pleasant memories.

  I
t was liberating, the illusion of being free, in a sun-dappled forest, or by a clear, running stream with the sharp sweet scent of pine in the air….

  Reality came with a murky blackness broken by the fitful yellow glow of lanterns or the sputtering flame of creosote torches that served to illuminate silhouetted figures of straining men heaving pickaxes, bodies saturated with sweat, mouths open holes gasping for air. The air reeked with despair. The whips of the guards were a constant hissing pop, curling around backs, bellies and thighs. If a man failed to cry out under the lash, it was applied until he did.

  Days dragged into nights, an endless monotony, until he lost track of time, until he dared not think of anything other than the mechanical response of his body. But like a small, niggling worm, at the back of his mind was the reminder that he would not have to endure this long, that soon it would be over.

  And then I will kill the man who put me here….

  That memory was still vague, a tall, dark shadow half-hidden in a corner who Steve somehow knew was behind it all. An air of smug confidence had emanated from the man, catching his attention just before lights exploded behind his eyes and everything was plunged into darkness.

  When he had awakened to the familiar nightmare of hell, he had known who was responsible for putting him there. In the days—weeks—that followed, the certainty grew.

  I am here for a definite reason, and it has to do with the man in the cantina.

  “You! Gringo!” The guard’s shout was accompanied by the stinging lash of his whip. Steve straightened, careful not to move too fast or the whip would only bite more deeply. “Gringo pig. Lucky for you that more men are needed outside, or you may soon begin to look like these others here, eh? Move faster!”

  A flurry of activity was the only warning he had before he was taken, along with Juan, to the mouth of the mine. He winced against the sharp stab of light into eyes far too accustomed to the turbid shadows.

  The guards were impatient, brutal, freely applying the lash to those who stumbled or didn’t move fast enough.