"Ah, Emerada. A beautiful name for a priceless beauty. Si, it suits you."
"You are too kind, senor."
"You must call me Antonio-I insist on it. There is no reason for the two of us to be so formal, is there?"
She laughed and reached for the wooden box on the stand, opened it and offered him a cigar, and struck a match for him. Moistening her lips with her tongue, she pursed her mouth slightly as she blew out the match, catching his attention by her provocative action.
"I do not know you well enough to call you by your Christian name, senor. We are, after all, strangers. And I would never take such liberties with one as exalted as yourself."
Santa Anna laughed, delighted with the stunning beauty. She was witty and intelligent, with just the right amount of humility. "Before tonight is over, I will no longer be a stranger," he said meaningfully.
"You must be weary after your long ride," she said, fearful of the passion that suddenly flared in his eyes. She offered him a chair, and when he was seated, she took the stool at his feet. "Let me help you to relax. Perhaps, just for tonight, you can forget about fighting and war."
He puffed on the cigar and motioned for his men to move to the other side of the room. "Yes, I am weary. I am not unlike Napoleon, misunderstood and troubled by ingrates who do not appreciate what I do for them."
"I have heard it said that you are very like Napoleon. Please, tell me why that is."
"It is simply because I will not consider any military plan that is contrary to the great man's strategy. Using his plans has won many a battle for me."
Emerada thought it best not to point out that the great man, Napoleon, had lost his final battle and died in exile-a fate she hoped Santa Anna would also share. "It must be a troublesome burden," she answered, feeding his inflated ego. "It is easy to see that you are destined for greatness."
He nodded and stubbed out the cigar. "These are demanding times, but a man with my responsibilities must lead, while others can only follow."
She nodded. "It takes a man of great vision and courage to ride at the head of an army-a man of destiny, like yourself."
His hand moved up her arm. "So true. You have great compassion and understanding." His hand moved across her bare shoulder. "A beautiful woman can do much to make a man forget his agonies, if only for a little while."
Josifina entered the room, her dark eyes sparking with anger. "If you please, dinner is ready." She slammed down a soup tureen so forcefully that the liquid spilled onto the table.
Santa Anna glared up at her. The servant's bristly manners inflamed his anger. "Watch what you are about, clumsy old woman. If I had been near you, I would have been burned," he said in a furious voice.
"Forgive Josifina, sir," Emerada intervened quickly, knowing how impulsive Josifina could be, and how she might very well tell Santa Anna just how she felt about him. Emerada stood so that her body was between the dictator and Josifina. "The hour is late, and she has labored tirelessly, preparing this fine meal for you. Can you not overlook her shortcomings?"
Santa Anna smiled, his anger dissolved, urged on by a pair of soft brown eyes. "Were you so certain that I would dine with you tonight that you had your maid go to so much trouble?"
Emerada lowered her lashes. "I was not sure, but I hoped you would."
Ian had scaled the outside wall and now watched through a window, observing the interaction between the dancer and the Mexican president. He was not aware at first that his eyes lingered on the woman, sweeping across her bare shoulders to the neckline that plunged downward to reveal the curves of her breasts. The bodice of her gown was so tight, it appeared that with the least touch, her breasts would come spilling out. He jerked himself up swiftly when he began fantasizing about stripping her gown off, touching her, kissing those full lips-
What in the hell was the matter with him? Was he as besotted as the men who had mobbed the town to see the dancer? To regain his composure, he glanced at Santa Anna. Though he could not hear their conversation, it wasn't hard to see that the man was smitten by the San Antonio Rose. But then, who wouldn't be? She was like no other woman he'd ever seen. His eyes moved back to her. He wondered how long she'd known Santa Anna.
Were they lovers? Of course they were. Ian could tell by the way they acted that they knew each other very well indeed.
Ian's eyes narrowed. If the dancer was on such good terms with the dictator, then she must be a threat to Texas's fight for independence. Houston had been right in suspecting her.
Ian was watchful all through the meal, observing how Santa Anna and the woman spoke intimately with each other. It was clear to him that neither of them noticed what they ate.
When they had finished eating and moved to a sitting area near the window, he ducked back, smiling. Now he could hear what they were saying to each other.
"Pity you have somewhere you must go tonight," Santa Anna said ruefully. "Are you sure you cannot stay? I had envisioned the two of us-"
Emerada interrupted him. "Unfortunately, my plans were made long ago and cannot be delayed. But another time-"
He pulled her to him and would have kissed her, but she wedged her arm between them. "There is no hurry, senor. We will meet again."
When Emerada braced her hand against his shoulder, she heard the rustle of paper. Determined to see what secrets he was hiding, she pressed herself back against him, tentatively sliding her hand inside his breast pocket.
Santa Anna, thinking that she was relenting, held her even tighter, unaware that she removed the document and slipped it behind her back.
She was relieved when she saw that the two men at the door were discreetly looking in the other direction to give them privacy.
Now she had become a thief, Emerada thought. But to steal from such a man was no sin-she was sure of that.
"If only I had not given my word," Emerada said as she pulled away from Santa Anna with a feigned look of regret.
"When will you return from this thing you must do?" he asked in the same petulant tone of voice a small boy would use when he hadn't gotten his way.
"I hope it will not be long. I am anxious to get to know you better."
"Ali, senorita, I am on my way to battle. You must come to me wherever I am." He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "I will not be hard to find. Look for me between here and San Antonio de Bexar."
She nodded and quickly stood up, her eyes issuing a promise of things to come-promises she hoped she would never have to keep. "I will find you, Senor Presidente."
There was a profound look of regret on his face. "Until we meet again, Emerada."
Ian had been listening to the conversation. So, he thought, her name is Emerada. But Emerada what? Why does she keep her true identity a secret? Perhaps she was a spy for Santa Anna, as well as his lover. Houston must be told at once.
In his haste to leave, Ian stepped too near the ledge and almost lost his balance. The noise attracted Santa Anna's attention, and he moved to the window. "Who's there? Guards, guards, take this man. I want to question him at once!"
Ian considered jumping to make his escape, but the roof was too high, and he didn't fancy broken bones. There was nowhere for him to go. So he pulled his hat lower across his face and returned to the window, surrendering to the inevitable.
Emerada watched as Santa Anna's soldiers dragged the intruder through the window and slammed him against the wall. She stepped back several paces, wincing when one of the soldiers wrenched the man's arm behind him and spun him around. His wide-brimmed hat fell off, and for a brief moment she looked into piercing blue eyes. It was Ian McCain! What was he doing spying on her?
Before she could react, he lowered his head to conceal his identity. He must have known she recognized him. He was dressed like a Mexican peasant-but why? If Santa Anna discovered this was Houston's man, he would have him shot!
Emerada was annoyed with herself for caring what happened to Ian McCain, and angry with him for exposing them both to danger. S
he agonized over what action she should take. If she unmasked him as a spy, she would win Santa Anna's confidence.
She glanced at Ian and found him watching her. In that moment, she knew that she could not live with the guilt of his death if she could prevent it.
With a soft laugh, Emerada moved toward Ian, standing between him and the lamp so he would be in shadow and it would be harder for the others to make out his features.
"Pedro, you fool," she scolded. "How many times have I told you that I do not need you to protect me? You should have known that I would be safe with el Presidente and his soldiers to guard me."
She dislodged one of the Mexican's hands from Ian's arm and nodded for the other guard to release him. "This man is harmless. He has set himself up as my guardian and is only trying to protect me." Her voice became hard. "Run along, and do not bother me again tonight, Pedro."
Ian did not take the time to question why Emerada had come to his rescue-he thanked his good fortune that she had. Scooping up his sombrero, he clamped it on his head and hurried toward the door, taking care to hide his blue eyes.
"Just a moment," Santa Anna ordered. "You appear to be a strong young man. If you have so much energy, why are you not in my army?"
Emerada linked her arm through Santa Anna's and smiled up at him, drawing his attention away from the intruder. "Pedro is just a harmless fool. He would be no better a soldier for you than he is a guard for me. Let him godo it for me."
Santa Anna looked doubtfully at the man who paused in the doorway. "Still, we need every able-bodied man to march against the treasonous dogs in Tejas." He glanced down at the beauty beside him, who looked at him pleadingly. "Very well, for you I will let him go." Santa Anna glared at Ian, who took care to keep his eyes averted. "You have this lady to thank for your freedom. Get out, and if I hear of you troubling her again, you will be shot!"
"Si, Senor Presidente," Ian muttered, then moved out the door and down the stairs. His thoughts were troubled as he mounted his horse and rode out of the village. Why had the dancer helped him escape?
After Santa Anna's departure, Emerada took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had accomplished her goal tonight. Santa Anna was interested in her, and if her luck held, she'd be able to move at will in and out of his camp.
"That man is gone, and you still have your virtue, which is a blessing, since he is known for despoiling young ladies," Josifina said with disgust. "I have warned you many times about him. There is danger in the game you play, Emerada-grave danger."
Emerada was accustomed to Josifina's grumbling, but she was right about Santa Anna-he was a dangerous man to cross. "I do what I must, and you know it."
Josifina's shoulders seemed to slump more. "I know how you feel and why you do what you do. But you cannot bring back the dead."
Emerada's dark eyes glinted. "No, but I can avenge their deaths-and I will."
Without wasting any time, Emerada stepped out of her gown and into a leather riding skirt.
"If you must leave tonight, you will wear something warm-it has turned cold," Josifina insisted, going to the trunk and removing a hooded woolen poncho, which she held out to Emerada.
Obediently Emerada slipped the poncho over her head and walked to the door. "Do not despair if you do not hear from me right away. I will be gone for a few days. Just remember that I can shoot straight and I can take care of myself."
Josifina knew it would do no good to argue with Emerada when her mind was made up about something. "I will not allow you to go unless you take Domingo along."
"Si. He is as fussy as you are, and it is not likely that he would let me go alone." Emerada came back and kissed Josifina on the cheek. "If anyone asks about me, tell them I am ill and cannot be disturbed."
"I know what to do. Go quickly and come back soon. I pray that God will guide you safely back to me."
Emerada threw her arms around the old woman. "Yes, pray for me, because I am afraid. I know what I must do, but I also know of the danger"
She left quickly, while Josifina dabbed tears from her eyes.
The danger was real; Emerada knew this. She was either committing treason, or she was a patriot, depending on whether one asked Santa Anna or Sam Houston.
She went quickly down a side street and found Domingo waiting for her beside their horses. Josifina had been right: It had turned bitterly cold and started to snow. It would be a long ride to Houston's encampment, but she was determined to confront him about sending his claw to spy on her!
As they rode out of the village, making a wide sweep to avoid Santa Anna's troops, the weather grew worse.
After they had ridden for an hour, the snow was whipped up by a strong wind. Domingo guided Emerada to a barn, where they would rest for the night. After he made her a bed in the hay and covered her with a woolen blanket, the old man sat near the door, keeping watch over her.
Emeradas last conscious thoughts were of piercing blue eyes. Anger burned within her. Ian McCain could have ruined everything for her tonight. She should have let Santa Anna have him. How dared the man spy on her! Her eyes narrowed. McCain had not taken it upon himself to watch her movements-no, Houston must have sent him.
McCain would soon feel the sting of her anger. And Houston, why had he betrayed her confidence? How could she trust him after this? But if she didn't have Houston to help her in her quest for justice, she would have no one.
The unseasonably cold weather retained its grip on the land. The snow continued to fall, and snowdrifts made it impossible to keep to the road.
Emerada guided her horse through the high snowbanks and tried to follow Domingo's tracks.
Miserably, the two of them pushed on against the gale-force winds. It rarely snowed in this part of Tejas, and the winters were usually mild. It seemed as if God's hand had been set against them. As wretched as Emerada felt, she could only imagine how difficult it was for the Mexican soldiers, who were ill-equipped for such bitterly cold weather.
After five days of hard riding, they finally reached Nacogdoches. By then the snow had melted, and a warm breeze revived the land.
Emerada dismounted while Domingo remained with the horses. She hurried toward the crude log cabin and moved up the rickety steps. Not bothering to knock, she pushed the door open and moved inside. No one was there. She removed her gloves while she looked around at the sparse furnishings-a table and five chairs, an oil lamp, and plank floors. There was a door to her right, and she supposed that would be Houston's bedroom.
She moved to the table and stared down at the map spread there. From the markings she saw, it was apparent that Houston already knew that Santa Anna had crossed into Tejas. No doubt his spy, Ian McCain, had reported to him.
She should have let Santa Anna kill him.
The outer door opened, and Emerada turned to see Ian enter. For a long moment they stared at each other
Ian was the first to speak. "I'm glad to have this chance to thank you for saving my life." His expression looked anything but thankfulhe examined her face so closely that she was sure she had no secrets left.
"I was just thinking about you."
Ian smiled and drew closer, reading the anger in her eyes. "Pleasant thoughts, I hope."
"I was thinking that I should have allowed Santa Anna to shoot you. What were you doing climbing up to my window and spying on me?"
"Did it occur to you that I was spying on Santa Anna, and you just happened to be with him?"
"Whatever you may think about me, I am not a fool. You came to Prisido del Rio Grande to spy on me and nothing more. You just happened to find Santa Anna there." She smiled in amusement. "Have you told Houston how you were caught sneaking around on a roof? Does he know that his spy-his claw-was so easily discovered?"
Ian had come to respect Emerada's intelligence, although he questioned her choice of lovers. Santa Anna was a philanderer, and it did not sit well with Ian that this woman gave in to the Mexican presidents lustful urges. "I told him everything."
He moved to the table and rolled up the map. "Now what could I possibly need to know about you that I couldn't find out in any cantina?"
She had been removing her gloves, and he saw her hands close in fists. "You insult me, senor. If I were a man, I would shoot you dead!" She slapped her glove against her thigh. "Maybe I shall shoot you anyway."
He smiled. "If you were a man, I can assure you that this conversation would not be taking place, dancer."
Emerada buried her resentment for Ian Mc Cain deep, a practiced accomplishment she had developed over the last four years. Now was not the time to spar with him-she had more important matters to attend to. "I have come to see Houston. Is he here?" she asked, dismissing Ian by turning her back on him.
"Unfortunately, he is not."
She whirled around. "Where is he?"
"I cannot say," he said evasively. "Tell me what you want, and I'll see that the general gets your message."
"I do not talk to underlings," she said contemptuously. "Houston will not thank you if I came all this way to see him and you stood in my way."
He smiled. "No man would like to be denied your company, Emerada."
She glared at him, her breasts rising and falling with each breath she took. "I did not give you permission to use my name."
His eyes were piercing now, and his tone was hard. "Would you prefer that I call you San Antonio Rose?"
"No, senor, I would not."
"Then what should I call you?"
"You have no need to address me at all. I have no wish to speak to you." She moved to a chair and sat down. "I will wait here until Senor Houston comes back."
"Then you must be prepared to wait for several days. As I said, he's not here."
She stood up and paced back and forth. "When will he return?"
"I can t say."
"Cannot, or will not?"
He shrugged. "I can't say."
Emerada dropped down on the chair wearily. She had ridden for days through a blinding snowstorm to reach Houston, and now he wasn't here. "I will remain in town for two days. If he has not returned by that time, I shall have to leave."
San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance) Page 4