San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  Emerada stood at the top of the stairs, her body trembling with fear. The day she had waited for had come at last-Santa Anna was in the village, and she prayed that he would come to her performance tonight.

  She glanced down the stairs at the smokefilled room, searching for Domingo. When she saw him leaning inconspicuously against the wall, seemingly blending in with the rest of the men, she drew in a relieved breath.

  What would she do without Domingo? He was always there, looking after her. He was a tall man, with arms and legs like tree trunks. His once black hair had long ago turned to gray, but that did not keep people from giving him a wide path when he passed by. One look at him had discouraged many would-be suitors when they'd tried to approach Emerada.

  Domingo had no past that he could remember, except the knowledge that Comanches had killed his whole family. Emerada's father had once told her that at a very young age Domingo had appeared at Talavera Ranch when it had belonged to her grandfather. Her grandfather had settled him in the bunkhouse, where the vaqueros had befriended him. Somehow, when Emerada was born, Domingo had attached himself to her as protector, and he still filled that role.

  Suddenly the soft strum of a guitar filtered through El Paraiso, and Emerada took several quick swallows and raised her castanets, clicking them in time with the music.

  Everyone fell silent, and each head turned toward the stairs.

  She stood so still that she looked like a statue, her only movement her fingers controlling the rapid, melodic sound of the castanets. She was tall for a woman, and her body was slender and curvaceous. She was dressed all in red, from the tip of her dancing shoes to the mantilla that shimmered like a precious jewel as it covered her waist-length hair. Her dress fit snugly about her voluptuous body, and the many-tiered train cascaded to the floor behind her in graceful folds.

  Suddenly two other guitars joined in the riveting melody, and the San Antonio Rose raised her head, her magnetic gaze moving over the crowd and drawing gasps from many onlookers.

  Emerada moved so gracefully down the stairs that it appeared she was floating. When she stepped onto the stage, she arched her delicate arms above her head and clicked the castanets to set a tempo that was immediately imitated by the three guitarists. Forcefully she tapped her feet, moved her hips, and captured her audience in spellbinding ecstasy.

  As Emerada tossed her dark hair, her eyes flashed, and she bewitched every man, making each feel as if she danced for him alone. She was luminous and radiant; each movement she made was calculated to inflame her audience with passion.

  Ian sat hunched in a corner, a large sombrero concealing the upper part of his face and his blue eyes. He'd been waiting in the cantina for hours, mingling with the locals and asking questions about the San Antonio Rose. No one seemed suspicious of his motives, and he finally learned that her name was Emerada, although no one could tell him what her last name was or where she came from.

  As Ian had waited for Emerada to appear, he heard glowing accounts of her talent and beauty. Now, as he watched her, he was inclined to agree with her admirers. He was as captivated by the dance's hypnotic allure as everyone else in the audience. She was beautiful, and she knew just how to use that beauty to enslave the men who already worshiped her.

  Surprisingly, as Ian watched the dancer he felt a knot of excitement gathering within him. Emotions boiled, igniting a deeper passion with each move she made. As much as he fought against his attraction to her, he was as affected by the San Antonio Rose as any of the other poor fools in the room.

  Suddenly there was a commotion at the door-mumbling voices and men pressing forward as Santa Anna himself entered with a flourish. His officers were shoving aside a knot of people, clearing a path for the general who was also president of Mexico.

  Ian pressed his body against the wall and positioned his hat at an angle so he could observe the sudden disruption without drawing attention to himself. Houston could not have known when he asked Ian to find out about the dancer that the search would lead him to the Mexican president-or had he?

  His jaw clenched as he glanced back at the dancer. She must be aware that Santa Anna had arrived, but she didn't miss a step when he sat down at the front table after his officers had roughly expelled the three men who'd occupied the chairs.

  Emerada could feel Santa Anna's eyes on her, so she began to perform for him alone. She removed her filmy red mantilla and tossed it into the crowd, where a fight broke out among those who wanted to possess it.

  She tapped her feet and flung her head back so that her hair flowed about her waist like a dark, silken curtain. Her arms arched over her head, and she twirled gracefully. Gathering her gown, she raised it high enough to show her ankles, and a roar of approval rippled through the room. With sensuous movements, Emerada edged closer to Santa Anna, her gaze locked with his.

  She discovered that Santa Anna was a handsome man, but of course he would have to be. She thought of all the young girls who had succumbed to his charms, much to their regret when he deserted them. She must not forget that he was greedy, ambitious, unscrupulous, and a man who could kill without remorse. She suspected that he could also be very charming-she was depending on that.

  The guitarists slowed the melody and played plaintively. Emerada's hands gracefully moved to match the tapping of her feet. Then the guitarists fell silent, and Emerada dropped into a curtsy.

  The cheers were deafening, and a tribute of flowers was thrown onstage. Emerada chose a single yellow rose and turned to the stairs she had descended earlier.

  She held her breath, wondering if Santa Anna was going to send someone after her-he just had to!

  "Excuse me, senorita." A voice spoke up behind her. "May I speak to you?"

  She turned to find one of Santa Anna's aides behind her. She bestowed her most haughtiest stare on him. "I am very weary, senor. And I do not talk to soldiers."

  "Senorita, perdoneme. You misunderstand my intentions. His Excellency has asked if you will please join him at his table," the officer said, graciously bowing.

  Emerada met the dictato's gaze, and he stood up and smiled at her, his expression one of expectancy. She gathered her courage and went back down the stairs. The day she had waited and planned for had come, and she prayed that she would have the courage to do what she must do.

  As Emerada approached Santa Anna, her smile was alluring, her body arched, and she allowed her gown to slip off her shoulder to reveal the merest hint of soft breasts. Although she wore the expression of a seductress and her eyes held an invitation, she was trembling, not with awe for the dictator, as any onlooker might think, but with loathing. She detested the part she was playing, and what she would be forced to do to gain the confidence of this man whom she despised above all others.

  Emerada reminded herself that Santa Anna was no fool. She was playing a dangerous game that might cost her her life. But no matter what the cost, no matter how much she had to degrade and humiliate herself, she would play this game to win!

  Nothing must go wrong!

  She dropped into a low curtsy, and before she could rise, she felt Santa Anna's hand on her arm, guiding her upward.

  "Bravisima, senorita. Magnifica! You are even more wonderful than I have heard," the dictator said with passion. "I am honored to have seen you dance."

  Emerada studied him for a long moment. He was a handsome man in spite of his flamboyant uniform. His eyes were soft and deep brown, showing no evidence of the cruelty he was capable of. She moved forward, allowing him to hold a chair for her, a chair that had been hurriedly vacated by one of his officers.

  "Thank you, Presidente." She could not bring herself to smile at him: "You are more gracious than I had heard." Her words sounded more biting than she had intended.

  Santa Anna frowned for a moment as he absorbed her words, wondering if he'd just been insulted. Then, when she looked up at him coquettishly, his amused laughter joined hers.

  She was daring and bold just the way he liked his wo
men. He congratulated himself when he saw how deeply she was affected by his presence. Before the night was over, the San Antonio Rose would be his to do with as he desired.

  "Did you know that I came out of my way so I could see you perform, my beauty?" He raised her hand and kissed her fingertips lingeringly, while staring deeply into her eyes. "It was worth it. Will you not dance for me again?"

  Emerada shook her head. "I would rather talk to you, Presidente. I have heard that you are a fascinating conversationalist."

  He smiled. "Whether that is true or not, you can judge for yourself, senorita. But this place is much too public. Do you not have somewhere that we can be alone?"

  She lowered her lashes. "No, not alone, Presidente. It would not be proper for me to be alone with a man, even you." She acted de mure, but it was less of an act than anyone would have guessed. Emerada had never been alone with a man before. "But would you do me the honor of dining with me in my room?"

  Santa Anna stood and helped her to stand, thinking she'd been an easy conquest. The rumormongers would have it that she would not be easily won. The gossip that had reached his ears was that San Antonio Rose never entertained a man in private. He smiled, feeling pleased with his prowess. "That is what I desire above all else. Let us go there now."

  She drew her hand from his. "You must not come to my room until I make myself more presentable for you, and my maid will want to make certain the food is worthy of you. When I am ready, I will send my man to you. His name is Domingo."

  Santa Anna bowed, his eyes on the plunging neckline of her gown. "Do not keep me waiting too long, beautiful one."

  She blushed prettily, while stepping away from him. "I look forward to dining with you, Presidente."

  Ian was not near enough to hear the conversation between Santa Anna and the dancer, but it was easy to guess what they were saying by their behavior. It was apparent that Santa Anna and the woman knew each other very wellprobably intimately.

  Tonight had been his good fortune. He'd never expected that his investigation into the woman's personal life would lead him to the Mexican dictator. He sank back into the shadows and watched the woman move up the stairs. Her hips swayed gracefully, and he found himself wondering what it would feel like to hold that body next to his.

  Ian shook his head to clear it of such thoughts. Houston had good reason to be suspicious of her-a hell of a good reason!

  He'd bet his life on the fact that Santa Anna and the dancer were lovers.

  Emerada's expression was grim as she hurried down the back steps of the cantina to the hotel, where she had a suite of rooms. The streets were deserted, and she encountered no one on her way. When she finally reached her suite, she closed the door and leaned against it, trying to stop her heart from pounding. She was frightened, and she had every right to be. Santa Anna was a dangerous man. What if she couldn't go through with it? What if...?

  Josifina Gomez came out of the bedroom and hurried toward her charge. "Emerada, what has happened? You are so pale. Are you ill?"

  "I have had a shock, nothing more."

  Josifina gripped the neck of Emerada's lowcut gown, pulling it back onto her shoulders. "It is bad enough that you must dance in a pub lie place: must you also dress like a woman of the streets?" She tossed her hands in the air as if invoking divine guidance; then she crossed herself and looked upward. "What your sainted mother would say about your actions, I cannot guess. If she is watching, she will know I have had no part in this thing that you do."

  "Must we go into that again?" Emerada sighed. She'd heard all this many times, and she was in no mood to be lectured tonight.

  "Where is Domingo? Why is he not with you? I told him never to leave you alone. This is not a decent town for a properly brought up young lady to be seen without an escort."

  "I only came up the stairs alone. Besides, I sent Domingo to saddle our horses and gather supplies. Later I will want you to pack my small valise."

  Josifina looked at Emerada suspiciously. "You are going to see that American general again. Do not deny it; I know you are, while I fret and worry if you will come back alive. When will all this end?"

  Emerada was weary. All she wanted to do was fall across the bed and go to sleep. She certainly didn't want to argue with Josifina, and she did not want to entertain the Mexican Presidente.

  "I do what I have to. I do not like it any more than you, Josifina. But you know it is something I must do if I am going to help bring down Santa Anna."

  The older woman clicked her tongue. "What makes you think you can succeed where others have failed? Heed me well, Emerada: this will cost you your life if you continue. How can I keep my promise to your mother to keep you safe if you recklessly endanger your life?" Josifina declared forcefully.

  "I myself did not know if it could be done until I met the American general. Houston may just be the man who can help me destroy Santa Anna."

  "Domingo can carry your words to this Houston. You do not need to go. I will tell him this when he gets back."

  Emerada was still pondering her meeting with Santa Anna, and Josifina's words failed to reach her. She looked into the concerned eyes of the woman who had been her ninera when she was small, her duenna when she was older. Now Josifina took care of her, not as a servant, but lovingly, and sometimes high-handedly.

  Josifina still wore the old Spanish-style clothing. She was dressed in a plain black gown and a black mantilla fastened with a large pearl clip. She was slightly built, and her back was stooped with age, but although she looked fragile, she could be a formidable adversary.

  Other than Emerada's Aunt Dilena, who was in Paris, Josifina and Domingo were the only people left from her old life. She didn't know what she would do without their care and con cern. And she would need them more as the days passed.

  "Josifina, he's here," Emerada said at last.

  The older woman's face drained of color and she gasped audibly. She didn't need to ask who was here-she knew. Every step Emerada had taken for the last year had been skillfully calculated and meticulously planned for her meeting with Santa Anna. Josifina had dreaded the time when her charge would finally come faceto-face with the man who had ordered the death of Emerada's family.

  "You saw him-spoke to him?"

  "Si." Emerada let out a pent-up breath. "I invited him to dine with me, and he accepted." She avoided Josifina's eyes, knowing they would be disapproving and accusing.

  "You know that man had no respect for women! Has he not scattered his seed all across Mexico? Has he not left many a young girl with a broken heart and a ruined reputation?"

  "I am not some innocent who can be swayed by his high office or empty promises." Emerada kicked off her red dancing shoes, trying to hide her nervousness. "Help me dress in my silk gown. Hurry. He will be here soon."

  Ian slipped out of the cantina and stood in the shadows just outside the door. He waited and watched, his senses alert. Soon his vigilance was rewarded; Santa Anna appeared, sur rounded by his entourage. He paused so near Ian that had Ian been so inclined, he could have reached out and touched the dictator. He clung to the shadows as Santa Anna spoke to his men.

  "I will not be needing you tonight. Wait for me back at camp."

  One of his officers stepped forward and uttered a hesitant protest. "But, Presidente, assassins are everywhere. It is not safe for you to-"

  Santa Anna smiled instead of chastising his officer for daring to contradict his orders. "You are right, of course. You and one of the other men come with me and watch for enemies. I will send you away later." He chuckled. "Possibly the only person I have to fear tonight is the beautiful San Antonio Rose, and the danger there will be to my heart."

  Ian's hand went down to rest against his ivory-handled knife. It would be so easy to kill the dictator right then. However, good sense prevailed. Houston had told him to watch the woman, and that was what he would do.

  A pale moon hung over the village, creating shadowy recesses between some of the buildings
where Ian could hide. Staying within the darkness, he followed Santa Anna and his two soldiers from a safe distance. When the Mexican president entered the Las Lomas Hotel, Ian slipped in behind him, taking care not to be seen.

  The hotel was shabby; the once bright yellow walls were crumbling and flaking, and the brick floor was cracked and broken in places. The outer room was empty except for a man and a woman who were arguing with the Mexican clerk about a room. The man patiently tried to explain to them that there was not a room to be had in the village because so many outsiders had come to watch San Antonio Rose dance.

  When Santa Anna moved past them, the three people gawked at him, but he paid them no heed.

  Ian watched a huge Mexican man escort Santa Anna and his soldiers up the stairs. When he decided it was safe, he went up himself, hugging the shadows. He stood for a long moment before the door Santa Anna had just entered.

  Suddenly the door was wrenched open and the big man came out, positioned himself in front of the door, and gave Ian a suspicious glare.

  Ian got the feeling that the giant man was one of the dancer's servants, rather than one of Santa Anna's men. Frustrated, he went back downstairs. It wasn't likely that the man would leave his post.

  Ian left the hotel and stood out front, searching the upstairs windows. He had to find another way to observe what was going on between the dancer and Santa Anna.

  Emerada entered the room with a flourish of apricot silk and gave Santa Anna her brightest smile. Santa Anna's two aides were standing stiffly by the door, as if they were at attention.

  "Senor," she said to Santa Anna, "you do me great honor." She dipped into a graceful curtsy. "I am honored that you have agreed to dine with me."

  The dictator's dark eyes sparkled, and he took her hand, raising it to his lips. "It is I who am honored, senorita. Will you please give me leave to call you by your Christian name-I can't very well call you San Antonio Rose all night, can I?"

  A numb calmness seemed to descend upon Emerada. She had practiced this evening so often in her mind that her instinct now took over. "My name is Emerada, sir."