Diablo's Angel

by Donna Fletcher

  The night wore on and aware they would soon take their leave, Crista went to find her mother and father.

  Her parents excused themselves from a conversation with two other couples when they saw her approach and walked to meet her, greeting her with loving smiles.

  “This is an unforgettable day. People will be talking about it for months,” her mother said with glee.

  “You out did yourself, Madre, and I am grateful for such a lovely wedding,” Crista said.

  Valerianna beamed with pride. “With all you have been through, you deserve all the happiness you can get. And I truly believe Don Navarro will give you a good life.”

  Crista didn’t expect a hug or a kiss, especially since to demonstrate such emotions in front of others would be improper. So she was shocked when her mother hugged her and tightly.

  Her father hugged her as well. “I thought your mother wrong in pushing for a marriage so soon upon your return home, but I see she was right.”

  Crista got teary-eyed as she walked away from her parents to find her brother and Rosa. She hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to leave her family. Not that she was going far away and wouldn’t see them. It was that she had just discovered them and their love after all the years of being away from home.

  “Are you not feeling well?” Rosa asked, taking her arm and leading her away from the festive crowd.

  They sat on a bench on the outskirts of the celebration partially submerged in the shadows.

  Crista shook her head slowly. “I hurt more than I thought to bid you all good-bye even though I don’t go far.”

  Rosa wiped at her teary eyes. “Your time with us has been too short and though I am happy for you, I will miss our morning walks and talks in the orange grove.”

  Crista smiled and quickly swiped away a tear that rolled down her cheek. “I will visit often and we will continue our walks to the orange grove.”

  “With our children in tow,” Rosa said, hugging Crista’s hand.

  “What is wrong?” Esteban demanded. “You both cry.” He reached for his wife.

  Rosa took his hand and was up off the bench and in her husband’s arms in an instant. “Good-byes can be difficult,” she informed him and laid her head on his chest.

  “Crista does not go far. She will be only a short carriage ride away,” Esteban said in a way of comfort.

  “And you will take me there often,” Rosa said, looking up at her husband through tears.

  “After the baby is born,” —Esteban stilled a protest with a finger to her lips— “Crista can visit you as often as she wishes until then.”

  Rosa kissed her husband’s cheek. “We’ll see how you feel after you bid your sister farewell.” She slipped out of his arms, turned a smile on Crista, and walked away, pointing to where she would wait for him.

  “I will miss you, little one,” Esteban said, taking her hand as she went to stand. “We share a special bond, you and I. We survived our time with outlaws, not to mention what you suffered in Spain. You are a courageous woman and I am proud of you.” He hugged her tight.

  Crista’s heart swelled with love for her brother she had barely remembered, though had recalled soon enough how much she loved him.

  She kissed his cheek. “I am grateful to have such a wonderful brother like you. I do so love you.”

  “Always remember I am here for you. If for any reason Don Navarro is not a good husband to you, you will let me know and I will see you returned home safely.”

  “I am glad to know you would protect your sister, but she needs no protecting from me and it is I who will keep her safe from this day on,” Chavez said, stepping out of the shadows and extending his hand to his wife.

  Crista looked from one man to the other. She was lucky to have both in her life, though they both were far too stubborn and territorial.

  She kissed her brother’s cheek once again. “I will miss you too, brother, and I will visit often.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And if ever I need you I will reach out.”

  Esteban smiled and let her go of her hand.

  Crista took hold of her husband’s hand.

  Husband.

  She smiled. She was wed to Diablo and no one would ever know.

  “Time for us to take our leave,” Chavez said.

  “Treat her well, Chavez,” Esteban warned.

  “Always,” Chavez confirmed and disappeared into the shadows with his wife.

  Chapter 24

  The hacienda was quiet when Crista arrived at her new home. It hadn’t been a long ride, fifteen minutes at most, though the amount of men—twenty if she had counted right—had escorted them home. With the hour late, there was no time to explore and it wasn’t something she wanted to do. She was looking forward to her time alone with her husband. Where once again she could fall asleep in his arms and wake in them as well.

  No servants greeted them upon their arrival, leaving Chavez to escort her to their sleeping quarters. The room was large, the dark wood furniture thick and heavy, the bedding pure white. Two large wardrobes took up almost an entire wall and a small dressing table—her personal items on top—sat in the center of the narrow wall that separated two terrace doors. The walls were a soft cream color, the curtains a pale green, the top and bottom colorfully embroidered. Two chests sat stacked on either side of the bed and a fireplace trimmed in colorful tiles occupied the wall opposite the wardrobes.

  “Tomorrow I will show you around the hacienda and I should warn you that you will see some familiar faces,” Esteban said, slipping off his waist length jacket and tossing it on a chair.

  “They—”

  He finished before she could say anymore. “Know me as Chavez and only Chavez.”

  She nodded and watched as he stripped off his shirt. She was eager herself to stripe off her clothes and slip into bed with her husband. He wore only trousers when he approached.

  “You will meet the servant who will tend you tomorrow, but tonight I wanted the pleasure of tending you myself,” he said, reaching to slip off her riding jacket.

  “I can undress myself,” she said, feeling a bit nervous.

  “What fun in there is that?” he asked his smile more wicked than she had ever seen it. “Though the passion that fires in your eyes tells me I should hurry.”

  She grabbed his hand as it went to rub between her legs. “One touch and it will be over before it starts.”

  He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her quick. “It doesn’t matter. I have missed being inside you, tasting all of you, having your legs wrapped around me, hearing you moan softly or loudly as I bring your body to life. I ache to share that with you again and again and again. Finally, once again we have all night and I intend to see us both well pleased, many times over, before dawn breaks.” A frown touched his face and he shook his head. “I did not think of the baby and the excitement of this day. Are you too tired and need to sleep, querida?”

  An unexpected yawn answered for her and she quickly shook her head.

  He smiled and ran a tender caress down her smooth neck. “I must do what is best for you and the baby.”

  “The best thing for us both is for you to slip inside me and ease this relentless ache I suffer,” she said and kissed his lips before he could stop her.

  Chavez groaned, her lips more demanding than he had expected, her tongue as well, slipping past his lips into his mouth to spar eagerly with his. He had missed the deep, intimate taste of her and his hands instinctively went to her breasts, his thumb grazing her nipple through her blouse for it to turn hard and poke at his finger.

  He moved his mouth away and whispered in her ear, “You drive me mad with the need of you.” He nibbled along her ear and down her slender neck, her shoulders rising with a shiver while a gentle moan slipped from her lips.

  “I have missed you so much,” she murmured, her hands running down to cup his covered shaft, hard and thick, in her hand. She squeezed it, aching to break it free of its confines, feel it�
��s smooth, silky texture, and have it grow even harder in her hand.

  “I need to touch you,” she urged.

  The next few minutes had them tearing at each other’s clothes until they were both finally naked. Chavez scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He lay on his side next to her, his hand running over her naked body, and she arched her back when his fingers slipped between her legs and entered her.

  She turned quickly, her hand finding his shaft and gripping it tight. “I can’t wait. I need you inside me now. We can take our time later.”

  His teeth nipped at her lips as he turned his body, the weight of him pushing her onto her back, his fingers slipping out of her to be replaced by his shaft poking at her entrance. She closed her eyes waiting for that moment when he entered her, filled her, moved inside her and brought her exquisite pleasure.

  “Attack! Attack!”

  The warning screams ripped through the night air and tore Chavez and Crista apart.

  “Get dressed,” he ordered as he hurried into his clothes.

  He didn’t have to tell her. She was already grabbing her clothes off the floor.

  “Who?” she asked, her hands shaking as she tugged at the ties of her blouse.

  “I’m not sure yet, but signs point to Vega,” Chavez said.

  They had had no time to talk privately before they wed and she had many questions for him. But now was not the time.

  “You will remain here with all the doors locked and you will open them to no one but me,” he ordered.

  “I want to go with you,” she said alarmed at being left alone in an unfamiliar house.”

  “No!”

  His sharp, curt response left no room to argue, and she watched as he locked the terrace doors and grabbed her hand to hurry her to the bedroom door.

  “Lock it and keep it locked until I return. Guards will be posted outside and under the terrace. You have nothing to fear.”

  He was out the door ordering her to lock it before she could tell him that she feared losing him. She leaned against the closed door, fear turning her stomach. This was not how her wedding night should be, but then nothing was as it should be since her return home or even when she was in Spain. Nothing ever went as planned and worry ran through her as to what this night would bring.

  Shouts and terrifying screams filled the night and she wished her husband had left her with a weapon. An orange glow suddenly filled the terrace and she ran to the doors. A building was on fire, lighting the night sky. She saw the three men then as they rushed the guards beneath the terrace. She opened the terrace doors and closed them quietly behind her. Her heart raced madly as she hurried into the shadows in the far corner of the terrace. She waited, fearing the guards beneath might be dead, fearing the men would climb the terrace in search of her, fearing she had no way to protect herself.

  She watched as hands appeared on the railing and a man soon climbed over and went to the terrace doors. He was in and out of the room quickly.

  “She’s not here,” he called over the side.

  “She must be somewhere in the house,” someone called back and soon another man climbed over the railing onto the terrace and the two men disappeared into the bedroom. She heard a scuffle and a thud and worried they had killed the guards outside the door.

  Crista wasn’t sure what to do. Did she remain in the shadows? Would they return and find her? What of the attack? Was it going badly for Chavez? What if they had killed him?

  Her heart slammed viciously against her chest at the thought. How could she stay here and do nothing? She made her decision quickly and hurried quietly into the room. The door sat ajar and she carefully peered out.

  Two men lay on the floor not moving—the guards.

  She stepped around them and found that one was dead, the other had suffered a blow to the head but was breathing. She couldn’t do anything for him now and it was better she left him as he was since he’d be thought dead and left undisturbed. She looked for a weapon but found none.

  Where did she go now? How could she go anywhere when she was unfamiliar with the house? Chavez had warned her to stay where she was, but that was no longer an option. One thing he would want her to do was survive.

  Hide.

  She had to find a safe place to hide. Diablo would not suffer defeat. He would always find her and rescue her. But what if he needed to be rescued? She almost laughed at the thought. Not Diablo and if anything Chavez needed Diablo tonight.

  Where did she hide when she didn’t know her surroundings?

  Where they wouldn’t expect to find her… mingled with everyone else.

  She hurried back to the bedroom and searched the wardrobe, finding what she wanted… her skirt and blouse. She hurried into them and her old worn sandals. She braided her hair, then retraced her steps, on alert for any men who shouldn’t be there, and found her way out of the house.

  Someone yelled at her to hurry and help with the fire as soon she was spotted, and she didn’t hesitate. She followed the woman and was soon part of a line of women fighting the fire, that had sparked another building, with buckets of water from a nearby well. The one in flames was beyond saving, but the other had only a few flames and could be stopped before it spread.

  Men fought nearby, but the attackers stayed away from the flaming building. The heat was intense as it burned, the fiery flames devouring the wood as the women worked to save the building next to it.

  Bucket after bucket the women passed along the line until arms burned and blistered fingers began to bleed, but they didn’t stop. It took a few minutes for her to notice that a few women stood guard with rifles, prepared to defend those who fought the fire.

  Crista had enjoyed her life as a peasant when in Spain and being here now, helping alongside these women who fought to protect their home made her feel part of them. Her arms ached as theirs did and her fingers were raw with blisters, some already bleeding, but like the other women, she didn’t give up. She continued to pass the heavy buckets one right after the other.

  What sounded like thunder had everyone turning their heads to the heavens expecting to feel raindrops, but it wasn’t thunder they heard. Riders, many of them, approached and Crista prayed the orange glow had been seen in the distance and other ranchers had come to help and that it wasn’t more men to aid the attackers.

  It took barely minutes to realize help had arrived and those who had attacked the hacienda scurried off in haste, not even bothering to collect their wounded.

  Crista remained where she was, not breaking the line of women who almost had the fire out. There would be time to find her husband and besides he was probably busy seeing to the carnage the attackers had left behind.

  “Crista?”

  She turned at her name being called and the familiar voice. Her smile reaching her lips when she spotted the woman cradling her bleeding hand in her folded arms. “Alma, you’ve been hurt.”

  “Go help her. We’ll finish here,” the woman next to her said and others nodded, agreeing.

  Crista hurried to the old woman, walking her away from the heated area, the flames having collapsed the fiery building but still hungrily licking at the remnants. She sat Alma on a bench by another building.

  “Wait here while I get cloths and water to tend your hand,” Crista said, but truly didn’t have to worry about the woman going anyway. One look and the heavy slump of her shoulders, the way her head drooped, and her eyes filled with fatigue made it clear the woman wasn’t going anywhere. She was completely exhausted.

  “I am surprised to see you here,” Alma said when Crista returned and began cleaning the woman’s injured hand. “I thought Diablo would return you to your family not sell you to a rancher.”

  “He did return me home,” Crista confirmed.

  “Then why,” — Alma gasped— “You’re Don Navarro’s new bride.” She tried to pull her hand away. “You should not be tending a servant, Dona Navarro.”

  “Nonsense, we are friends and
besides as wife to Don Navarro, it is my duty to manage the servants so you are wise in obeying my order.” Crista chuckled.

  “Don Navarro is a good man. Diablo did well by his people sending some of them here.” A sadness filled her voice. “I only hope he did well and has found peace.”

  “I hope the same,” Crista said, planning to make sure that he did. She finished tending the old woman’s hand, wrapping a clean cloth around the wound and along the back of her hand. “Whatever your chore here will wait until your hand heals.”

  “My chore is far from difficult. I watch the children for the young women while they tend to their chores. It is a chore I truly enjoy. I feel blessed that Don Navarro has been so good to me.” Alma patted Crista’s hand. “You should go find your husband. He will be worried if he can’t find you.”

  “I will help you to your quarters,” Crista said.

  “No,” a woman snapped.

  Crista turned to see a woman two heads taller than herself and stocky. Her features were hard to make out since her face was smudged with soot and grime. Strands of her dark hair had fallen loose from a braid that looked to have been wound at the nape of her neck, but now hung partially free. She was a woman who looked to be in charge and comfortable and confident with that position.

  “You will go help the other women to see what food can be saved from the partially burned storehouse.” The woman raised her hand to stop Crista from responding. “You are unfamiliar to me so you must be new here, though I wasn’t aware of anyone new arriving today. I am in charge of the servants and you will obey my instructions without comment.”

  Alma chuckled. “It is you, Lana, who will be obeying Dona Crista.”

  Lana turned a scrunched brow on Alma, then her words settled in and she gasped. “Forgive me, Dona Crista. You appear more a peas—” She bit her tongue and shook her head. “Forgive me.”