Forbidden Angel

by Sandra Lea Rice

From an inside pocket, Adrian withdrew an oblong leather case and handed it to Angeline. The others had gathered around, curious as to what the first gift of the season would be.

  Angeline viewed the present in surprise. “Adrian, this is beautiful.” From the box, she lifted a single gold chain connecting a row of perfectly matched, blood-red rubies.

  Taking the necklace from her, Adrian fastened the chain around Angeline’s neck. “It has been in my family for generations and is part of the Spencer rubies.”

  She hesitated, running her fingers along the necklace. “They cannot be mine, Adrian.”

  “You are my wife, Angeline, no matter what name was used.”

  She rose up on tiptoe to brush her lips across his cheek.

  Philippe crossed the room to Angeline. “You are very beautiful tonight, Angelina, as exotic as the rubies you wear.” He lifted her hand and kissed the back.

  “I do not believe we have met, Señor.” Philippe addressed Frank who came to his feet. “I am Don Philippe Montenegro and my lands adjoin those of Cordova.”

  “A pleasure, Don Philippe. My name’s Frank Bates and this is my wife, Shirley. We’re from the Spencer Ranch in Texas,” Frank met Philippe’s gaze directly.

  “The pleasure is mine, Señor y Señora Bates.” Philippe moved off to speak to Rafael.

  “He has a way about him, Shirley girl, but something troubles me and I can’t place it. It will come ta me, though.” Although Frank whispered to Shirley, Angeline heard his comment. If possible, she would need to keep them separated before Frank’s intuition proved correct.

  Maria assumed a position near the tree. “Good evening, everyone. I hope you have not waited long.” She signaled to Rafael. “Would you please bring the ornament?”

  He opened a padded box and withdrew a beautiful ceramic star.

  “Will you assist me, my sons?” A stepping stool was produced. With Esteban and Rafael on each side for support, Maria stepped up and reached to place the star. Penelope applauded in delight and the others followed suit.

  After they helped her down, Maria stood beside the tree and announced, “Have fun, my children. This house should be full of laughter.”

  “It is truly a wonderful star.” Penelope tipped her head back to gaze at the top of the tree. “Don Rafael, are there more ornaments as lovely as that?”

  “Come and see, niña, and choose one to hang.”

  Penelope opened the first box and gasped. All were hand-blown and exquisitely painted, their bright, clear colors portraying different holiday scenes. Penelope chose one, stepped to the tree, and hung the ornament. Pivoting to the others, she called, “Come on, everyone. We have a whole tree to decorate.”

  Soon the tree seemed to glitter as light reflected from the many glass bulbs added to the branches.

  “Listen, do you hear the voices?” Angeline crossed to one of the large doors to listen. “It sounds like children singing.”

  “It is the Aguinaldo. Tradition says that children from the homes surrounding the Hacienda sing carols for pieces of candy or a few coins,” Philippe explained.

  Esteban appeared with a basket of individually wrapped candies. When the song ended, he passed them out to the children eagerly awaiting the treats.

  “What happens next, Rafael?” Penelope picked a spot on the tree for the ornament in her hand.

  “On December twenty-second, we have our Christmas Lottery. It is an exciting time, as everyone wishes to win. The lottery was first started in 1763 by Carlos III and has continued since then. The draw will make someone instantly rich.”

  “What a wonderful thing to do,” Angeline responded.

  Michael dipped his head to Penelope. “Have you thought of spending Christmas in America, away from everything you love?”

  She returned his regard. “I will not be away from everything I love.”

  Leaning forward, Michael kissed her gently. “You are very sweet, Penelope. I want very much for you to be happy.”

  She whispered shyly, “I will be with you.”

  Angeline smiled. Penelope would make a perfect match for Michael.

  Philippe appeared at Adrian’s shoulder. “May I have a word with you?”

  Adrian leaned nearer to Angeline. “We’ll be back shortly, my sweet.” Engrossed in placing ornaments, she simply nodded.

  Outside on the terrace, Adrian turned to Philippe. “What is it?”

  “Angelina told me Malcolm may still be alive. If so, he will follow. If he is anywhere in town, or has sent someone, I will have a better chance of obtaining information than you.” Philippe eyed Adrian. “He has convinced himself he has a right to what he believes she can bring him.”

  Adrian’s jaw tightened. “We thought as much from what little information we were able to obtain. Don Philippe, it’s obvious you care for Angeline, but do not doubt that she is my wife, legally or not, and I hope you respect that.”

  “I do care greatly for her and wish only her happiness. If you make her happy we have no problem, but I will not see her unhappy.” Philippe met Adrian’s cold stare.

  After Philippe left, Adrian stayed on the veranda, smoking. He’d heard the protective note in the older man’s voice and caught the implicit warning. What he couldn’t fathom was why Philippe had formed such an attachment. Adrian understood remorse, but this was more. He flicked the cigarillo out into the air and stepped inside to rejoin the others.

  Angeline and Penelope met him. “We would like to go into town tomorrow. We’ll be perfectly safe with an escort,” Penelope started, grasping one of his arms. Angeline wrapped her fingers around the other arm, batting her lashes playfully. “We need time to search for gifts, but you and Michael cannot come. Please say we may.”

  Adrian glanced from one to the other, grinning at their little conspiracy. “Then who shall we get to accompany you?” His gaze met Philippe’s briefly.

  “I would be more than happy to escort the niñas,” Philippe offered. “We can take some men with us if you wish.”

  “Thank you, Don Philippe. This little outing is obviously very important to them.” Adrian noted their excited faces. “Take Frank with you. You will find him a very good man to have along.”

  Philippe rode into the front courtyard. Dressed entirely in black, he wore his flat-brimmed hat pulled low on his forehead. Sensing the intensity of Frank’s regard, he twisted in the saddle to face him. Frank’s gaze narrowed, a quick sizing up, before turning away.

  Five men from the Hacienda had gathered, waiting for instructions from Rafael. A vaquero would drive while Frank held a rifle in his lap with a shotgun on the seat beside him. Once the carriage bearing the Cordova crest rolled into the courtyard, Angeline and Penelope were handed in.

  The trip into town was a relatively short one. As they gained the narrow street lined with different stands, heads swiveled and people began to stare and point. Philippe kept a watchful eye on everyone and everything around them.

  The carriage pulled to a stop in front of a row of brightly colored wooden stalls where merchants waited to barter their goods. Philippe offered Angeline his hand as Frank helped Penelope down. Slowly, they moved from stall to stall, the women engrossed in the handcrafted items.

  Frank edged up to Philippe’s side. “Don Philippe.” Frank continued to keep a watchful eye on the women. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill ya now.”

  Philippe stilled. “Because you know I mean them no harm.” He scanned the area surrounding the women. “And because that is not the sort of man you are.”

  “Are you so certain of that?” Frank kept pace beside Philippe. Neither man wanted to upset the women.

  “Si. If I attempted to harm someone you care for, you would. But not like this.” Philippe sent a side glance in Frank’s direction. “And because I did not kill you when I could have.”

  “Yeah, thanks for that.”

  Philippe’s lips twitched. “I do not kill for killing’s’ sake, and you had done nothing.”

  Philippe
and Frank caught up with the women.

  “Are you two enjoying yourselves?” Philippe asked.

  Penelope turned large eyes on him. “Oh, yes. Everything is so skillfully crafted.” She glanced at the parcels she juggled in her arms. “I have some wonderful gifts.”

  Philippe collected the packages and handed them to one of the vaqueros. “And you, Angelina, have you found things of your liking?”

  “Many things. I’ve seen the most exquisite pieces of silver jewelry. The craftsmanship is as elegant as any found in London.”

  “There is a place ahead where we might rest and find refreshment. Afterward, we should start back.” Philippe ushered them toward the door.

  Frank disappeared inside the small, white cantina Philippe had indicated. Within moments, he reappeared and waved them in.

  Once inside, Philippe asked a few discreet questions and learned inquiries had been made regarding the whereabouts of a black-haired English woman. As soon as they’d finished, he clasped Angeline’s elbow and walked her to the carriage, with Frank shepherding Penelope.

  The sun was still high when the carriage rumbled to a stop in the courtyard, and Michael and Adrian came to meet them.

  “I can see by so many parcels, the trip was a successful one.” Adrian reached for Angeline and caught an imperceptible nod from Philippe.

  “Quite successful, and I cannot wait to give you your gift.” She held up a finger. “But, you must wait until Christmas.” Her lips curved in a mischievous smile.

  “Well, my sweet wife, so will you.” He gave her a nudge toward the hacienda. “Both of you should go inside and enjoy a warm bath and rest before dinner. I would have a word with Don Philippe.”

  Angeline pivoted to face Philippe. “Thank you for a lovely day. Will we see you later?”

  “Si, niña.”

  By the time the women had disappeared inside the shaded entrance of the hacienda, Frank had joined Adrian and Philippe.

  “I think it safe to assume Malcolm is alive and will present himself soon,” Philippe said. “You realize there will be complications when that happens?”

  “Yes.” Adrian lit a cigarillo.

  Frank stared at Philippe. “No one will believe that bastard, and we sure as hell won’t let on. Cazador’s gone, ain’t he?”

  “Si, he is gone.”

  Chapter 39

  “How did you know, Frank?” Adrian asked, perplexed.

  “Didn’t at first, but it was the only thing made any sense. We all knew Miss Angeline weren’t tellin’ us everything. Seein’ Don Philippe with her, well . . .” Frank shrugged, then shifted his gaze to Philippe. “But just so ya know, if Adrian or his lady had died, I would have hunted ya down and killed ya.”

  Philippe inclined his head. “I would expect no less.”

  Frank returned his gaze to Adrian. “What next, Boss?”

  “We should plan for his arrival.” Adrian contemplated the burning tip of his cigarillo. “This will end soon.”

  “It can’t come none too soon for me,” Frank said, then moseyed toward the house.

  “He is a good man.” Philippe mounted his horse and grinned down at Adrian. “I would have regretted killing you.”

  Later that evening, replete from dinner, Adrian settled Angeline comfortably in a large chair near the fire and stood before the hearth, hands clasped behind his back, surveying the room and those gathered. He leaned toward her. “Have you had an opportunity to visit much with your grandfather?”

  Angeline shrugged. “Only for short periods. We seem to avoid those topics most unpleasant for both of us.”

  “He has asked to speak with me in the morning.” He saw the expectant look in her eyes and forestalled her with a quick shake of his head. “I have no idea what he wishes to discuss, but I will share all with you afterward.”

  Angeline slanted a look at him, then settled back in the chair.

  Penelope sipped her punch. “What festivity happens tomorrow?” She glanced eagerly at Philippe.

  “Tomorrow is the lottery. You will hear the bells ring when a name has been drawn. The Cordova family, as well as mine, fill small bags with candy for the children. The bags will be given to them on Nochebuena, Christmas Eve. Our riders deliver them.”

  “Do you think we could help fill the bags?” Penelope asked readily.

  “Rafael, we have some volunteers to help with the bags for the children. What do you think? Should we accept their offer?” Philippe teased.

  “Who could refuse such lovely ladies?” Rafael continued the friendly banter. “Your gesture will make some children very happy.”

  Adrian noticed Angeline yawn discreetly behind her hand. He bent down to whisper near her ear. “You need your rest. Would you like me to make our excuses?”

  “Please.”

  Philippe had seen the tired gesture as well. “It has been a very busy day for the two niñas, so I will take my leave.”

  “Will we see you tomorrow?” Angeline questioned.

  Philippe extended his hand, helping Angeline to her feet. “There are some matters I must attend to first, but I will be here later.”

  Adrian exchanged a knowing glance with Philippe. When his gaze returned to Angeline, he found her staring at them. No doubt she would have questions. He would need to be prepared to answer them.

  As they entered their bedchamber, Angeline confronted him. “What aren’t you telling me? It makes me very uneasy not to know.”

  He sighed and lightly gripped her shoulders. “We believe Malcolm will show himself very soon. Don’t fear, my love, we’re waiting for him.”

  “I’m more angry than frightened. I want him out of our lives, and, heaven help me, I do not care how.” She sat down at the dressing table and began removing the pins from her hair. Her hand stilled and she swiveled on the seat, anxiety written on her face. “What of Don Philippe? Malcolm will most certainly recognize him.”

  Adrian paused, then continued removing his stickpin and cravat. “We will deal with that eventuality when it happens.”

  “I pray you’re right. He has come to mean a great deal to me.”

  “Yes, I realize that.” Adrian fought a wave of jealousy. Picking up her brush, he began running it through the long strands of her hair. She sighed and visibly relaxed.

  She watched him in the mirror. “This is nice. You’ve never brushed my hair before.”

  “I find brushing your hair to be rather erotic.” He noted her gaze lower to his obvious arousal.

  “So it would seem.”

  “Minx.” He nuzzled the side of her neck. “As long as I’m acting as lady’s maid, perhaps I should help you out of that gown.”

  Adrian tapped once and stepped through the door. Don Fernando turned a calculating gaze on him and motioned him forward. Something about this summons, and that was the only way it could be viewed, felt wrong. Whatever Don Fernando wanted to say, Adrian instinctively knew he wouldn’t like it.

  “Come closer, Lord Windsford.”

  Adrian crossed the room, moved a chair around to the side of the lounge, and sat. “You wanted to speak to me?”

  “Si. We are both powerful men, used to having our own way. As such, we are aware of the need to plan, to look ahead and see the full picture.”

  Adrian felt, more than saw, Fernando’s hesitation. He steeled himself against the realization that this man, in his own way, was as much a foe as Charles.

  “Yes.” Adrian tried to determine where this was headed. What he surmised made his blood heat. “Go on.”

  Fernando nodded. “I have two strong sons who will continue to add to this family. Sons . . . that is what men of our ilk need. Daughters,”—he waved his hand in dismissal—“though delightful, are of little use unless they can further our goals.”

  “Your point?”

  Fernando looked him in the eye. “My point, Lord Windsford, is that you will need a legitimate heir. Angelina is herself not legitimate. You will not have what you need through her.” />
  “She is my wife,” Adrian said flatly.

  “Ah, but she is not.” Fernando voice caught in a wheezing gasp. “Return her to me. I will see her safely wed to Philippe and my plan fulfilled, and you may find the wife you need to produce your heir. To make the arrangement more beneficial, I have holdings in America, some of which I would turn over to you.”

  Adrian felt his jaw tighten and his heart pound against his ribs as anger turned to fury.

  And still Fernando persisted; unrepentant, unemotional, cold. “There is a mine—”

  “What of your sons? Do you so freely give away their inheritance?” Adrian encouraged the conversation, driven by the desire to see how far Fernando would go to accomplish what he wanted.

  “Bah,” Fernando expounded dismissively. “They will do what I say. I,”—he thumped his chest—“have built what they have and I will decide what is necessary to see it finished.”

  Adrian gripped the arms of the chair, fighting the desire to reach for the old man. “And my child?” He could barely get the words out past his clenched teeth.

  “Whether male or female, the child is of no use to you. The babe may stay with the mother. We will see to its comfort and education and it will not be an embarrassment to you.”

  Fernando stared expectantly at him. Adrian knew the patriarch of the Cordova family believed he would accept. His skin crawled.

  Then, Adrian let the disgust and anger show on his face as he leaned toward Fernando.

  The old man’s eyes widened.

  “Hear me, and hear me well, Don Fernando. Because I would not hurt my wife with the knowledge of how little you care, and, because I have a great deal of respect for the sons you seem to consider only pawns in your game, I will not tell them of our conversation.”

  Adrian leaned closer. “You are fortunate to have a wife to support you as Dona Maria has. I will not see her hurt, either.” Adrian eased away. “I suspect she already knows what a bastard you are. But,”—he pointed a finger at Fernando—“if you say one word of this to me again, or, should you act in any way against Angeline, I will see it finished. Do you take my meaning?”