San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  She wished for her Aunt Dilena. She would know why Ian stirred all these unwelcome emotions within her.

  The rain pelted down with a stinging force. Although it was the middle of the afternoon, it was almost dark as Emerada and Ian rode single-file down a steep embankment.

  Emerada pulled her shawl over her head and hunched her shoulders to avoid getting wet, but nothing helped-she was soaked through. At times the rain was so hard that she couldn't see past her horse's head. They couldn't go much longer in this weather, so when she reached the bottom of the hill, she halted her mount and waited for Ian to draw even with her.

  "I know a place where we can find shelter." She had to shout to be heard above the wind. "It's no more than two hours away."

  Ian nodded. "Lead on."

  "Stay close to me so we won't be separated. There will be treacherous water crossings and perilous quagmires that must be avoided at all costs. They will be even worse with this rain."

  "I will try to keep up," he said, nodding. "You know this country better than I do."

  Because of the constant rain and the wind gusts, it took more than the two hours that Emerada had predicted to reach shelter. Both were relieved when their horses' hooves clattered over cobbled stones.

  Emerada seemed to know where she was going-she guided them toward some kind of brick structure. She dismounted, shoved open the wide double doors, and led her horse into the shadowy interior.

  Even though it was dark inside, she had no trouble feeling her way. She took the reins of both horses and led them into a stall. She unfastened her horse's cinch, and Ian, following her lead, unsaddled his horse.

  Next she lit a lantern that hung on a rusted nail, and a ring of light encircled them.

  "You seem to be familiar with this place," he said, throwing his saddle over a railing.

  Emerada seemed to be struggling with her saddle, but when Ian reached out to help her, she glared at him and lifted it onto the railing herself. "I have been here before," she answered.

  Ian glanced about the building. It had seen better days, but it had been well constructed. "This must have been grand in its day," he said, looking at the finished walls and the stone floors.

  "I am afraid that neglect has taken its toll. But si, it was grand in its day." She looked somewhat sad as she ran her hand over a rusted pitchfork that leaned against the wall. "It is as if no one ever lived here."

  "What is this place?" Ian asked, noticing the rusty nails that protruded from the decaying wooden stalls.

  "This is all merely a ghostly reminder of what once was a ranch where a family lived, laughed, and loved."

  He looked about for a suitable place to build a fire. He saw a rusted pitchfork, a broken shovel, and a corroded curry comb. "No one had been here for some time."

  "No, they have not," she answered abruptly. "The family is all gone."

  "You have to get out of these wet clothes, or you'll catch a chill," he warned. He saw Emerada wince when he broke off some of the rotted wood to build a fire. "You don't think the owners will mind, do you?"

  "No. They will not mind." She placed her hands on her hips in a defiant stance. "But I will not take my clothing off for you!"

  He gave her a sideways glance. "Don't be worried about your virtue where I am concerned. I just don't want a sick woman to slow me down."

  She glared at him as he removed the blanket from the saddlebags and threw it at her. "It's a little damp around the edges, but not as wet as your clothing. You can undress in one of those stalls." He nodded toward the back of the stable. "Don't worry. I won't look."

  She took the blanket from him, seeing the wisdom in his suggestion. "What about you?"

  "Are you worried about me?" he asked, grinning.

  She stomped away, wishing him outside in the storm. "Your health is no concern of mine."

  "No?"

  "No!"

  "Then why did you help me escape Santa Anna?"

  Emerada ignored his question because she didn't really know the answer to that. Her fingers were numb from cold, and she fumbled to unhook her gown. She hung her clothing over the stall and draped the blanket about her like a serape.

  When she returned to Ian, he had a fire going, and she moved close to warm herself. He bent down beside her and tossed more wood on the flames, sending sparks flying.

  "Ian, would you like to hear something amusing, if anything can be amusing about the deaths at the Alamo?"

  "Suppose you enlighten me," he said grimly. "I found nothing humorous about it."

  "You will this. Santa Anna called the battle of the Alamo a small affair, and Colonel Navarro remarked that another such victory would cost them the war."

  "I doubt that would be much comfort to Travis and the others who died at the mission."

  "Travis knew he was going to die; he chose death over dishonor."

  Ian shivered and moved close to the fire, warming his hands. "I hope the folks who own this spread won't care that we are burning it down for firewood."

  She stared into the fire as if she saw something he couldn't. "No, they would not mind."

  "Do you know the family?"

  "Si. I knew them." She shook her head, overcome with melancholy. "I knew them very well. Talavera is the name of the ranch. The horse I ride was born and trained here."

  They had both settled near the fire and stared into the flames. Finally Ian spoke. "Tell me about the family-where are they now?" He wasn't really interested in who had once lived there. He just liked listening to the sound of Emerada's voice. He had always been intrigued by her soft accent.

  She shrugged. "There is not much to tell. I am hungry now."

  He stood up and laughed as he reached for the saddlebags. "I wouldn't want you to be hungry. It might set off your temper," he said with irony.

  "I admit that I have a temper," she said. "Josifina usually chastises me because she says a lady does not display her anger. I am afraid I have always been a disappointment to her."

  "Josifina? Who is she?"

  She frowned, thinking of the woman who had protected and bullied her. "She was my niniera when I was small; then she became my duenna. Now she is a trusted friend and servant. She must be wondering what has happened to me."

  Ian smiled as he placed the coffeepot on a flat rock he'd settled among the flames and handed Emerada a piece of hard cheese.

  "Why do you smile, Ian?" she wanted to know.

  "I was trying to imagine you with a duenna, or for that matter, with anyone who could chastise you into submission."

  "That is because you do not know Josifina. She could take you to task, Ian. You would do better tangling with those two buffalo hunters than with Josifina."

  He reclined on his elbow and watched the firelight play across her midnight-colored hair which was beginning to dry and curl about her face. "Tell me more about the family who lived here. Why did they go away?"

  She was silent for a moment, as if trying to think how to answer him. "You might say the members of this family were the first casualties of this war."

  "In what way?"

  She raised her eyes to his. "Are you really interested?"

  Yes-very.

  "The people who lived here at Talavera were named Felipe and Maretta de la Rosa. When Felipe was a young man, he went to New Orleans, and there he met and fell in love with a beautiful Frenchwoman, Maretta Cloutier. They were married, and she came back to Tejas with him. Eventually they had three sons and a daughter."

  "You did know them well."

  "Very well. The sons grew tall and straight in the Tejas sunshine, approaching life with honor and self-respect, while the daughter was spoiled by the whole family. In her thirteenth year she was granted permission to go to New Orleans to be with her mother's sister. Later the girl sailed to France with her Aunt Dilena, who was a famous dancer and was going on a European tour."

  "She is a dancer like yourself?"

  "No, not like me. In Europe it is different from here. A
dancer there can be admired and respected. So it was with Dilena. She was so beautiful and adored that while in France, students from the university unhitched her horses and pulled her coach. She danced for all the kings and queens of Europe, and she was worshiped wherever she traveled."

  Ian was fascinated by Emerada's tale. He'd even forgotten about the coffee, and it boiled over. After he removed the pot and poured them both a cup of the hot brew, he asked, "What became of the daughter? Did she become a dancer as well?"

  "That is not important. Her visit to France turned into years because her mother was stricken with typhoid fever and died. Then there was talk of war, so her father wanted her to remain safely in France with her aunt. Later, her aunt bought a home in New Orleans so the girl could be close to her father and brothers. But as much as she loved her aunt, and loved to travel, she always yearned for the time she would return to Talavera."

  "Is she in France or New Orleans?"

  Emerada was so caught up in her narration that she continued as if Ian hadn't spoken. "Once a year, the month of her birthday, June, her father and brothers would visit her in New Orleans. She was so proud of them, her three handsome brothers and her wonderful father."

  She paused for a moment, as if she were gathering her thoughts.

  Ian could sense a change in her, a heavy sadness. "You don't have to go on if it's too painful."

  "I want to tell you. I have never said any of this aloud. It might help."

  "Go on, then."

  "The father loved Mexico, but he loved Tejas more. He taught his sons and daughter to love freedom and hate tyranny. He detested Santa Anna and what he was doing to the people and the country. Felipe de la Rosa was a friend to Stephen Austin, a good man who really cared about people-a gentle man of quiet taste and high ideals. Senor Austin swore fidelity to Mexico and considered himself a citizen. But he soon became disillusioned by the heavy hand of government. He traveled to Mexico with a petition for a separate state government for Tejas. On his way to Mexico City, he stopped to pass the night with the de la Rosa family, as was often his habit."

  "I know what happened to Austin," Ian said. "But what happened to this family?"

  "Senor Austin was imprisoned in Mexico City. The de la Rosa family that once lived, loved, and laughed here-the father and three sons, and any servant who tried to come to their aid that day-were murdered by Santa Anna's men. The beautiful hacienda was burned, the livestock confiscated, and the land laid to waste."

  "My God! Is this true?"

  She looked at him with tears in her eyes. "Si, it is true, Ian McCain. They are all dead."

  He didn't know at what point he had begun to realize that she was speaking of her own family, and she was the daughter. "Tell me about the daughter, Emerada."

  "The daughter," she said, as if coming out of a trance, "selfish creature that she was, died with them that day. She is as dead as the hopes for freedom in Tejas."

  "Why do you call her selfish?"

  She lowered her head to her knees and began to sob. "Because she had returned from France, but she remained in New Orleans with her aunt instead of coming home to her family. She should have been with her father and brothers and shared their fate." She rolled her head from side to side, locked in total misery. "She is more dead than any one of them-she can't feel, she can't think, she can do nothing until she destroys the man who is responsible for the deaths of her family."

  It all came together in Ian's mind. She wasn't with Santa Anna because she loved him-she was with him because she wanted to destroy him! She was helping Houston because she saw in him her best hope for destroying the man who had ordered the deaths of her family.

  He moved forward and embraced her. At first she was stiff in his arms, but he stroked her hair and spoke softly to her, and she finally relaxed against him, sobbing all the while.

  She had experienced a terrible tragedy. She was alone, but for two servants who looked after her and an aunt somewhere in France. How she must have suffered every time Santa Anna put his hands on her, hating him as she did!

  "The daughter is not dead," he said softly. "You, Emerada de la Rosa, are that daughter."

  "I wanted to die," she cried. "Many times I prayed to die, but God was not so merciful." She blinked the tears from her eyes, wishing she could stop crying. "They were my family. Now all that they were and all that they would ever have been is lost." She shook her head. "I am nothing without them-nothing!"

  He brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her cheek. It was a chaste kiss meant only to comfort. "They are alive as long as they live in your thoughts and in your heart, Emerada. I know how you feel."

  "How could you-how could anyone?"

  "Emerada, look at me." He tilted her chin. "When the men at the Alamo died, and I was still alive, I wanted to throw myself on the sword of the first Mexican soldier I saw. But I know now it would have been useless. Yes, I'll always feel I should have died with them, but it was out of my hands, just as the fate of your family was out of your hands. I am not saying that my tragedy was as severe as yours, but it was a tragedy nonetheless."

  "Yes, but-"

  "Shh," he said, pulling her back against him. "We both have a mission, Emerada. We have Texas."

  "I want my family back."

  "You can't have them back, except in your memory. Keep them alive in your thoughts." He raised her head and looked into her eyes. "Lay down your sword, little warrior, and let me take it up for you."

  Her eyes widened. "I do not understand."

  "Let me take care of you," he repeated.

  She jerked away from him. "You are asking me to be your mistress?"

  He laughed and shook his head. "No, that's not my intention. I'll settle for being your friend or standing in the place of a brother."

  That thought brought her no comfort. She didn't want to be Ian's sister. She wanted-she wanted-she wanted him to love her. But why? She didn't love him. She had no time for love. She had to see that Santa Anna did not destroy any more families, as he had hers. She had to get away from Ian and make her way back to Santa Anna and try to convince him that she had not run away with Ian.

  "I had three brothers. I do not want any others."

  "A friend then?"

  She agreed with a nod of her head. She had to somehow make him think he could trust her so she could escape. "I will be your friend, for now. But the time will come when that may change."

  He didn't feel like a brother or a friend. He wanted to kiss her into submission and make love to her. But that was not what she needed at the moment. She was like a crushed flower, and he wanted to see her bloom again.

  "You have befriended me several times, Emerada, although I am sure it was the last thing you wanted to do. Did you know that there is an old Arabic proverb that says if you save a mans life three times, he belongs to you?

  She smiled and then laughed out loud. "Oh, no, Ravens Claw! You are not going to make me permanently responsible for your life. You are forever walking on the edge, and you might just pull me in with you the next time you fall."

  He leaned back against a pile of soft hay and pulled her back with him. "You haven't told me how you came to be the San Antonio Rose."

  She chewed on the end of a piece of straw pensively, as if considering how to answer him. "It was really quite simple. I knew Santa Anna had a weakness for women, but I could never just walk up to him and introduce myself. I decided to use my dancing because I am quite good at it."

  "Yes. You are. But that still doesn't answer my question."

  "My aunt was in Europe for a year, and she thought I was safely in New Orleans. For obvi ous reasons, I could not use my real name when I went to Mexico City, so I chose San Antonio Rose. I was amazed when my name grew and so many were eager to have me perform. But I still could not get near Santa Anna. So I came to Tejas. The rest you know."

  "I doubt I know everything. There is much you haven't told me."

  The tension that had knotted her muscles s
ince she had came back to Talavera slowly dissolved as his soothing touch made her aware of him in a new way.

  "What about your aunt, Emerada? Aren't you afraid that she will find out what you are doing?"

  She looked embarrassed. "Aunt Dilena thinks I am in school in New Orleans."

  "School?" He pulled away from her. "How old are you, Emerada?"

  "I am nineteen-or I will be on my next birthday."

  He stared at her, wondering how many other girls her age could have accomplished what Emerada had. She always seemed so fearless and capable of taking care of herself. Except for now, when he was seeing the vulnerable side of her. "Surely your aunt must be worried about you."

  "She will be returning to New Orleans in early summer. I hope she will understand why I had to come to Tejas."

  "She would be proud of you, Emerada. But she has every reason to worry, too." He hugged her to him, laughing. "I was about to say you needed someone to keep you out of trouble. Let it be me."

  Warmth spread through her, and she wanted him to kiss her, to touch her, to possess her whole body. She did not know that her eyes revealed much of what she was feeling when she looked at him.

  Ian drew in his breath, and his grip tightened about her. He didn't know who made the first move, but their lips touched and they pressed their bodies together, needing to be even closer.

  "You do sorely tempt me, little dancer," he breathed in her ear, nestling his cheek against hers. "There is fire in you that would delight any man."

  "Hold me, Ian," she said pleadingly. "Hold me very tight." Her hand went around his neck; her lips parted, inviting his kiss.

  Ian gathered his thoughts and pulled back, straightening the blanket firmly about her shoulders. He hesitated, reaching for the right words to express what he was feeling and hoping he could make her understand. "Under other circumstances, I would want to make love to you. But this is not the time or place. I would only be taking unfair advantage of your vulnerability."

  His rejection cut her deeply. "I am sorry if I threw myself at you." She ducked her head and her hair fell forward, curtaining her face. "I feel so ashamed."