San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  He was pleased when the uniform fit so well that it could have been made for him. Ian had chosen a foot soldier because there was less chance of discovery. Had he chosen a cavalryman from one of the more elite units, his fellow officers would undoubtedly have noticed their companion missing from their ranks and sent up a hue and cry.

  Ian shouldered his rifle and took up his sentry duty, hoping no one would notice the switch. He could hear music and laughter coming from the camp. Apparently the Mexican army was going joyously into war. He gauged the strength and number of the enemy and was astounded by the magnitude of the forces. For the first time he doubted that Houston's infe rior number of volunteers-most of them farmers-could win against Santa Anna's thousands of well-trained troops, all experienced in war.

  An hour later a soldier came to relieve him. The man was yawning and nodded in greeting while grumbling about having to stand night duty.

  Ian made his way down the hill, his eyes sweeping the encampment, searching for the insignia of the unit he had chosen. Luck was with him again. He found the standard near the outer perimeter, located an empty bedroll, and lay down. He was sure he would not be able to sleep.

  He rolled over and stared at the stars, thinking about Emerada. Houston seemed to think she was in some kind of danger, but Ian didn't agree with him. More than likely she was in the arms of the dictator right now, telling him about her conversation with Houston.

  Ian was impatient to find out whether she was safe, and then he could get to the mission ahead of Santa Anna.

  The Mexican army was camping on the Medina River, only twenty-five miles from San Antonio de Bexar. Ian stood on the banks of the river, wondering how much longer he could continue his disguise. So far no one had paid the slightest attention to him, and he was able to move among the soldiers with little trouble. Thus far he'd been unable to locate Emerada, although there was talk that she was traveling with Santa Anna. Since he was merely a foot soldier, he did not qualify to enter the Mexican president's inner circle, a privilege that was only available to a trusted few.

  He'd often seen the president at a distance, but he had yet to see Emerada. His lips curved in distaste-she must be keeping to the dictator's tent.

  The sun was sinking behind the hills, and Ian watched until it was no more than a purple splash against the horizon.

  "Amigo," a solder called to Ian as he walked toward the camp. "You must hurry or you will miss a wonderful thing. San Antonio Rose is going to dance for us."

  Ian nodded and hurried after the man. "Why should she pay us such an honor?" he asked the soldier.

  "Because, amigo, she is a patriot and is giving us her gift of dance."

  "A patriot?" Ian said bitingly. "Si, that would be her reason."

  "Si, si. She is a great lady! Has she not proven that by leaving all comforts behind to travel with the president and keep his spirits up? I saw her dance once," the soldier said, pausing. "She was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. I will take her image with me to my grave."

  Ian followed the man in brooding silence. A patriot she might be to the Mexican army, but she was a traitor to Sam Houston, and he intended to prove it. He couldn't go undetected for much longer-he would have to act soon.

  A crowd of soldiers closed in around them, and it was a few moments before Ian found the soldier he'd been talking to. "Does she sleep in Santa Anna's tent?" he asked the man.

  The soldier grinned. "I am told that the president is baffled by her because she keeps him dangling. I am also told that her tent is next to his. Of course, I do not know if this is so."

  "I doubt she keeps him dangling," Ian muttered under his breath.

  "Look, amigo, see where they have erected a stage for her. Hurry! hurry! We must get closer so we can see her dance."

  Torchlight flickered across the hastily constructed stage while five mariachis strummed a plaintive tune on their guitars. Hundreds of soldiers of all ranks crowded into the limited space; some even perched in trees so they could watch the San Antonio Rose perform.

  Ian was some distance away, leaning against a tree, his arms folded across his chest. His gaze settled on Santa Anna, who was seated next to the stage, and revulsion churned through his stomach as he thought of the man putting his hands on Emerada.

  Ian elbowed his way forward while men grumbled and cursed at him. Soon he was near enough to see the stage better. He had been prepared for her appearance, but when Emerada stepped onto the stage, his breath caught in his throat.

  She shimmered like a delicate jewel in an emerald green, tiered gown. At first she just stood there while the crowd went wild with adoration-they called out to her, and Ian even saw that the man next to him was crying.

  She tapped one foot in time with the music. Then her arms arched gracefully above her head, weaving and intertwining. The music became more intense, and as she arched her back, the look on her face was that of a matador stepping into the bullring. She was drawing emotions from the crowd, making them fall in love with her. In that moment, any man present would have died for her-all but one, Ian McCain. His mouth twisted in scorn. She used her beauty and art like a weapon, and it angered him.

  His gaze was riveted on her, and he realized that she would never betray people who worshiped her as these did. Houston was the fool if he thought she would betray Santa Anna for him. It was Houston who was her target. Ian knew that he must somehow get into her tent tonight, capture her, and find a way to spirit her away.

  He would make her face Houston with the truth.

  While everyone else was watching Emerada dance, Ian inched his way toward the Mexican presidents headquarters. He was certain no one noticed when he slipped out of the tight circle and ducked down behind one of the silken tents.

  Emerada was restless, tossing and turning on the silken sheets that had come from Santa Anna's own trunks. He had ordered that her tent be set up next to his and that it be furnished as grandly as his own.

  She plumped her pillow and tried to find a comfortable position. They were within a day's march of San Antonio de Bexar, where Santa Anna had said they would engage the enemy. She knew in her heart that if her father had lived, he and her brothers would be fighting with the Americans, as were many of her people.

  Emerada was uncomfortable sleeping on silk sheets and had the inclination to rip them off her bed and sleep on the bare mattress.

  She heard a noise at the back of her tent and raised herself up on her elbow, staring into the darkness.

  It was nothing, she told herself. Perhaps the wind.

  Domingo had placed his own bedroll at the front of her tent, so no one, not even Santa Anna himself, could get past him.

  With a sigh, she closed her eyes, wishing she could sleep. She was in the wolfs lair, and every covert action she made might mean her death. She had overplayed her hand in seeking Santa Anna's affection. He was becoming as troublesome as a lovesick youth with his first love. She didn't know how long she could keep him at arms length. But she was committed to his destruction, and she would do whatever she must to bring that about.

  Her mind turned to Ian McCain, and she resented the fact that he occupied more and more of her thoughts. Her instincts told her that Ian was an honorable man who was willing to die for Tejas, just as her family had, just as she would do if she had to.

  It wasn't a sound that alerted her, but more the feeling of another presence in her tent with her. She was gripped with fear and would have cried out for Domingo if a hand hadn't clamped over her mouth.

  "Do not cry out, Emerada."

  She recognized Ian's voice! What in God's name was he doing in her tent?

  His tone was menacing. She'd never seen him like this before. "If I remove my hand, you will not make a sound, understand?"

  She nodded.

  Slowly he removed his hand, but he kept a grip on her arm. "Get up and get dressed. You're coming with me," he whispered against her ear.

  "Are you crazed, Ian McCain? There are soldiers e
verywhere. You will never make it out of camp."

  "You have two choices, Emerada. You can either come with me, or die here. It's your choice."

  She drew back as if he'd struck her. "You would do harm to me?"

  "I will if I have to." He knew deep in his heart that he could never hurt her, but she needn't know that. "Get dressed, now!"

  It was too dark to see him, but she knew he meant what he said. She stumbled out of bed and reached for her gown. "You will not get away with this, Ian McCain."

  "If I don't, you will never live to tell."

  A sudden ache surrounded her heart. She could not bear to think he would harm her. "Why are you doing this? Do you not know that it is you who will die?"

  "If you are referring to the watchdog in front of your tent, he is snoring contentedly, and if you are referring to Santa Anna, he has his own diversion. Do you mind that he has taken another woman to bed with him?"

  "If you leave now, I will not cry out. You can still get away if you are careful. It must be almost daylight."

  "Hurry!" There was an urgency in his voice as he produced a rope and grabbed her wrists, wrapping it around them.

  "Why are you doing this?" she asked as he pulled her forward to tie the rope.

  Suddenly there was the sound of movement just outside the tent.

  "Shh," he warned.

  Torchlight reflected on the tent, and before Ian could react, the tent flap was drawn aside and three armed guards rushed inside. Domingo was right behind them. He looked from Emerada and back to Ian with a puzzled expression.

  Santa Anna himself came in, fastening his shirt, and glared at Emerada. "What is this?" he demanded, his face red with fury.

  One of the guards was holding his rifle on Ian. "I told you I saw someone sneak under the back of her tent, Excellency."

  "Emerada," Santa Anna asked, his tone of voice revealing his suspicion, "who is this man, and what is he doing in your tent in the middle of the night?"

  Emerada saw the jealousy reflected in Santa Anna's dark eyes. To give her time to gather her thoughts, she held up her hands to show she was tied. She had to think of something quickly or Ian would die! "This man sneaked into my tent, demanding that I go with him. He was prepared to take me away by force."

  Santa Anna saw the uniform and moved to Ian, his face red with rage. "How dare you, one of my own soldiers, commit such an outrage? I demand an answer before you die, and you will die, make no mistake about that. But, should you tell me the truth, you will die quickly, instead of slowly and painfully."

  Ian appeared to be unaffected by Santa Anna's threats. He turned a cold gaze on Emerada. The giant man had cut the ropes on her wrists and had covered her with a long shawl.

  One of the soldiers smashed the butt of his rifle on the back of Ian's head, and he fell to his knees. "Answer the general's question," the soldier demanded, raising his rifle again.

  Ian slowly regained his feet and stared defiantly at Santa Anna, but said nothing.

  Santa Anna inspected his prisoner closely, and he suddenly smiled. "You wear the uniform of one of my men, but you are an American. What do you want with this woman?"

  Still, Ian said nothing.

  "Take him away," the president ordered, "Tie him to a tree and use him for bayonet practice."

  "Wait," Emerada spoke up. "I know who this spy is-he just told me. I waited to see how long he would try to deceive you." Emerada caught Ian's attention when she ran her fingers along the length of rope that he had brought to tie her hands. "Tell the president what you were doing in my tent."

  "Si," Santa Anna demanded, his anger tightly under control. "Why are you here?"

  Ian straightened his shoulders, lifted his chin, and said nothing.

  Emerada twisted several loops in the rope while Ian watched. Her mouth quivered when she tried not to smile. "Why do you not answer His Excellency?"

  His gaze burned into hers, and she could feel his anger like an all-consuming entity.

  "Who are you?" Santa Anna demanded.

  "I will tell you who he is," she said, dropping the rope down in the shape of a hangman's noose and dangling it in front of Ian's face. "He is Ian McCain."

  Santa Anna's eyes widened. "The Ravens Claw?" A cruel smile played on his lips. "Can it be true? Has God smiled on me and sent me the Raven's most trusted officer?"

  Ian stared dispassionately at Emerada as she dropped the rope and ground it beneath her feet. Tonight she had proved that her loyalties were with the Mexican president. It was a pity Houston would not know she was a traitor until it was too late.

  Ian turned his gaze away from her and bowed to the Mexican president. "I am Colonel Ian McCain, and I have the very great honor to serve General Houston."

  "Take him out now. Kill him slowly," Santa Anna said harshly.

  Emerada touched Santa Anna's hand. "Wait! If you want to hit Houston where it will wound him the most, keep this man alive as your prisoner."

  Santa Anna's voice was hard. "You care so much if he dies? Who is he to you?"

  "I hardly know him, Antonio," she said, using Santa Anna's Christian name for the first time. "But don't you see the irony of this? Ian McCain came here tonight to make me his prisoner and present me to Houston, just to humiliate you. Why do you not turn the tables on him? Keep this man as your prisoner and flaunt him in Houston's face. Does that not seem laughable to you? But I can assure you that Houston will not be laughing."

  Santa Anna rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Finally he spoke guardedly. "I believe what you say. After all, you were tied when I entered. I was grieved when I thought he came here as your lover." He touched her face. "You are as wise as you are beautiful."

  Santa Anna turned to his men. "Put him under tight security. I will decide just what will be done with him later."

  Ian's arms were tied behind him, and he was hustled away. He glared icily at Emerada.

  A lump crowded Emerada's throat, cutting off her breathing, but she raised her chin and stared back at him. "Your arrest will discourage others who think they can cross swords with our president and win."

  Santa Anna waited for the others to leave, but when Domingo remained, staring at him disapprovingly, he spoke harshly. "Dismiss your servant. I want to be alone with you."

  The big man planted his feet firmly and folded his arms across his chest, waiting for orders from Emerada.

  You may go, Domingo. I am safe with Antonio.

  Reluctantly Domingo left, but he made a great noise of bedding down in front of Emerada's tent so Santa Anna would know he was near

  "At last I am alone with you," Santa Anna said silkily

  Emerada covered a yawn with her hand. "I am so weary, Antonio. The terror and excitement of this night have drained me. I am not at my best when my sleep is interrupted."

  "It excites me when you use my name." His gaze slid over her disheveled hair and her soft curves visible beneath the scanty nightgown. "I want only what will make you happy."

  She feigned a pout. "I was told that you have a woman with you tonight."

  "She is nothing to me." His hand clamped on her shoulder. "If it is your wish, I will send her away."

  "No. I do not want to be with you when you have been with someone else."

  Anger flashed in his eyes, but then he relented as he always had with her. "You are a difficult woman to win. Ours will be a relationship that will last until one of us is dead. You are not like any of the others."

  "Have you said this to the woman who sleeps in your tent tonight?"

  "No, I have not." He smiled. "Our time will come soon, Emerada. I weary of waiting for you to make up your mind."

  She moved toward her bed. "It is my hope that you will not have to wait much longer."

  "You must rest," he said kindly, pressing a kiss on her lips and laughing when she pulled away. "I am grateful for your help in unmasking the Ravens Claw." Again he lowered his head and kissed her. "Take me to your dreams with you."

  "You should ma
ke certain that Houston hears of his favorite's plight," she said smugly. That was the only way she had at the moment to let the general know about Ian's capture.

  "I would have been in despair if he had taken you away from me." His gaze swept her body. "I will soon dispose of that rebellious rabble who have set themselves against me. When this is over, you will accompany me to back to Mexico City."

  She avoided looking into his eyes lest he see the hatred she felt for him reflected there. "You do me great honor." Had she sounded convincing? she wondered.

  Apparently she had, because he smiled and left.

  Ian's arms and legs were bound behind him, and he was damned uncomfortable. He yanked against the ropes, but that only made them cut into his flesh. What had he gotten himself into this time?

  Here he was lying facedown on the hard ground in an enemy camp. He would have preferred the firing squad to this humiliation. Many times over the last few hours he'd cursed the day he had heard of Emerada. She had been as ruthless as any man when she betrayed him to her lover.

  It made him angry as hell that she would get away with this betrayal. Now, if he died, which he surely would, the dancer would go on feed ing Houston false information, while reporting Houston's movements to Santa Anna.

  He tugged at the ropes again. He had to escape so he could warn Houston. He glanced about him, watching the activity as the Mexicans broke camp. Tents were disassembled and loaded onto two-wheeled carts. He watched two soldiers hitching horses to cannon. The Texans were no threat to the might of this army.

  Ian yanked on his ropes, no longer feeling the pain when they cut into him. He was supposed to get to San Antonio ahead of Santa Anna. Now he would arrive with the dictator, if he survived. He had walked into a situation that a child would have known to avoid. If he hadn't tried to capture the dancer, he'd now be on his way to settle the squabble between Travis and Bowie.