San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  Emerada covered her eyes as he continued to read the legal document that restored Talavera to her. She willed herself not to cry, but tears swam in her eyes. She hardly heard his words until the last sentence.

  "`Please accept our heartfelt appreciation for the bravery you displayed in defense of your country.'"

  Ian folded the parchment and handed it to her. "You will see that it's signed by Sam Houston himself."

  He placed the document in her hand, and she looked up at him. "I do not know what to say."

  "Say nothing. If anyone deserves to be honored, it's you."

  "I do not want anyone to know about what I did."

  He nodded. "Houston was sensitive to your feelings. It seems he made you a promise that he would never tell anyone unless you gave him leave to. Regardless what you may think, Houston keeps his word."

  "I will never give him permission to make my part in the war public knowledge."

  "Then history will never hear about the valuable service that the San Antonio Rose rendered Texas. There will be rumors, of course, but Houston will never break faith with you."

  "You know all about me, Ian. Will you keep my secret?"

  "I will never speak of it to anyone. It is your secret, and yours alone." He sat back down and studied her face. "Pity though. You did so much for our cause."

  "But I did not do it for any noble reason."

  "Yes, you did. You did it out of love for your family."

  She smiled at him. "Thank you. And when you see Houston... never mind. I will write to him. I am grateful that Talavera has been returned to me."

  He watched her closely. "Will you return to Texas?"

  She wanted to go home to Tejas more than anything, to rebuild the ranch house and to live again in her childhood home. But she could never do that now. She had to think about her baby.

  "No. I suppose I will engage a solicitor to find a buyer for the ranch. It is prime land and should be easy to dispose of."

  He stood up and nodded toward the rest of the room. "So this is what you want out of life? I had thought you loved the ranch. Why are you so determined to be rid of it when it meant so much to you before?"

  "You would not understand."

  There was anger in his voice. "Try me." His gaze fell on the shawl she had carefully arranged to hide her pregnancy.

  He reached out to touch the edge of it. "I believe this is how you first came into my life. How well I remember the first time I retrieved your shawl."

  "And this is how we will part," she said, snatching the shawl out of his fingers.

  "I am going to be in New Orleans on business for a week to ten days. May I see you again?"

  She knew she should sever all ties with Ian. There was danger in seeing him again. But she was not ready to dismiss him from her life just yet. She would see him once more.

  "Yes, if you would like."

  He bowed to her. "Until later, then."

  "Si. Until the next time."

  After Ian left, a battle waged inside Emerada's head-a battle between tears and pride. Pride won.

  That night when she went to bed, she had trouble sleeping. All she could think about was Ian's cold indifference to her.

  Through her window, she watched the moon rise, and she was still awake to see it set.

  For three days Emerada kept a vigil at the front window. Every time a carriage approached, her heart would leap to her throat. When it didn't stop, she would be crushed with disappointment.

  On the fourth day Emerada paced the length of the veranda, knowing she could not go on this way. If she remained in New Orleans, she would always have that small hope in the back of her mind that Ian would come for her. Also, there would always be the fear that he would find out about the baby.

  She hurried into the house, calling Domingo. She found him in the workroom, shining her black leather boots.

  "I have come to a decision," she told him. "Tomorrow I want you to go to the dock and make arrangements for us to sail for France."

  He was accustomed to Emerada's impulsiveness, so, undaunted, he asked the practical question. "Have we money?"

  "I have decided to sell some of my aunt's jewels. Then, when this house sells, we will have enough money to last until I can dance."

  Domingo nodded, knowing she had it all worked out in her mind. Emerada was the most capable woman he'd ever known. What worried him was that she had no fear. She was unaware of the times he'd had to protect her from trouble of her own making. She didn't know about all the men he'd had to keep away from her. He'd broken a few arms and cracked a few heads to keep her safe. But he was getting old, and the time might come when he could no longer protect her. What would happen to her then?

  "I will see to it tomorrow. Will I need a ticket for Molly?"

  "No, Domingo. Molly will not want to leave New Orleans. I will have to make other arrangements for her." She looked wistful. "Although I would like to have her with me when the baby comes."

  He nodded and went back to polishing her boots-this was the first time she'd mentioned the baby to him. He hummed at his work, thinking he could live in France as well as anywhere, as long as he was near Emerada. After all, he'd promised her father that he would always take care of her. It seemed she was going to need him more than ever now that there was a little one on the way.

  Ian waited for the maid to answer his knock. Business for Houston had kept him occupied for the last week. Now he was ready to return to Texas, but he couldn't go without seeing Emerada once more.

  Domingo opened the door and nodded for him to enter. "Senorita Emerada is not in, Senor McCain. You may wait for her, but she will be gone for most of the day."

  "I had planned on leaving later today. Could you tell me where I can find her?"

  The big man was silent for a moment. "Si. Do you know where the cemetery is located?"

  "I can find it."

  "She went there to place flowers on her aunt's grave."

  Ian thanked him and retraced his steps to the carriage. When he thought about Emerada, it was with such a deep ache. She had been so young and innocent, and he sometimes felt guilty that he'd taken advantage of her. There was so much left unsaid between them. It would probably never be said now.

  The carriage moved down the street, and he leaned back, wondering what his life would be like if he could never see Emerada again.

  A midmorning shower had left pools of water on the uneven walkway, and Emerada stepped cautiously around them. When she reached her aunt's tomb, she stared silently up at the monument that rose like a sentinel above the grave. It was a white marble angel with spread wings, its gaze looking toward heaven. She placed the roses on the monument and dropped to her knees, bowing her head in prayer.

  And that was the way Ian found her.

  Not wanting to intrude on her mourning, he waited for her to finish her prayer. He was glad for the chance to observe Emerada without her being aware of it. A warm breeze lifted the curls from her shoulders, and he could almost feel the texture of her hair. Since the cobblestones were rough, she had used her shawl to kneel upon. He wondered if she might be cold. She easily became ill when she was chilled. He exhaled a tortured breath. Would he ever stop worrying about her?

  Emerada made the sign of the cross and stood, her face once more turned upward to the winged angle. Ian's loving gaze began at her slender neck and worked downward. Her bodice was loose, but he could still see the outline of her firm breasts. He liked her in yellow; it made her skin glow. Yes, there was definitely a glow about her. As his gaze moved to her waist, he froze.

  Emerada heard someone beside her, and turned to meet Ian's gaze. He looked confused, and she wondered why.

  "I did not expect you here, Ian McCain," she said, reaching for her shawl. That was when she realized her mistake; she should have kept the shawl in place to conceal her rounded stomach!

  She could tell from his stricken expression that Ian knew about the baby.

  "My God, Emerada, why
didn't you let me know? You could have written me, and I would have come right away."

  Her hand trembled, and she knotted her shawl, twisting the delicate fringe around her finger so tightly it turned blue. "If you are referring to my baby, it is none of your concern, Ian. There was no reason for me to tell you."

  He came closer to her, and she quickly stepped back.

  "Is it mine?"

  The fact that he could ask such an insulting question made it easy to speak the lie that was forming in her mind. She certainly didn't want him to feel any responsibility toward her or the baby.

  "This baby is not yours."

  Emerada saw him flinch at her words.

  "Then it has to be Santa Anna's baby."

  She let her silence confirm his suspicion.

  Emerada saw his outraged expression, but he quickly pushed his anger aside. "It doesn't matter who the father is; you need a husband. There are too many children without fathers. This one will have a name-mine."

  "You take too much for granted, Ian. Do you feel it is your duty to offer me marriage as gratitude from the great Republic of Texas, for services rendered?"

  The muscles in his neck tightened from the obvious restraint he was exercising over his anger. "How could you think that? I know you don't want to marry Santa Anna, even if he were free to marry you-that leaves only me."

  Her heart was crying, Say you love me, say you love me, and I will be in your arms-I will tell you that you are my baby's true father.

  "You owe me nothing, Ian, just as I owe you nothing. Why would you think I want your name for my child? What makes you think I want a husband-any husband?" She moved down the walkway, and he followed her. "I will admit that your offer is magnanimous, Ian. However, I would never have thought you so charitable as to offer marriage."

  "Then you don't know me at all. Do you think I care who the father is? I will be a father to your child."

  She paused and looked up at him, hoping the misery she felt didn't reflect in her eyes. "I believe I have something to say about that. And, as I recall, you are already betrothed to a woman in Virginia."

  "That is not a concern." He studied her face closely. "I am beginning to understand. You don't want to marry me because I was also born without benefit of a father. Is that your reason, Emerada?"

  Anguish seemed carved into his face. Ian turned away from her and glanced back at the marble angel that loomed above her aunt's tomb. "Would she have approved of your having this child without marriage?"

  "I do not know." She shook her head, realizing how deeply she had hurt him. She should have remembered how troubled he was over the manner of his own birth. He was offering to help her, even though he believed the baby was Santa Anna's.

  "I appreciate how you feel, Ian." She placed her hand on his arm. "This child will not suffer as you have. I will make certain of that. You see, this baby will be born in France, and someday I will tell my baby how heroic his father was."

  He spun around, his eyes searching hers. "Then you will lie to the child. Will you tell the child that his father was willing to let his men die while he hid in the swamps like a sniveling coward? Or will you tell the child that his real father had his grandfather and uncles put to death?"

  She felt hot tears gather behind her lashes. "My baby will know everything when the time comes."

  "I can't accept the fact that you are so callous about the baby's future. I know what it feels like to have no father. Would you condemn your baby to that fate?"

  "My child will not know who Santa Anna is, Ian. France is a long way away. You lived with your father's name, although it was not legally yours. So will this child."

  She could tell Ian was struggling with his next words. "So you allowed that butcher to put his hands on you, just so you could destroy him. You risked having his child so you could have your revenge. I don't understand that kind of reasoning, and I don't believe your family would have thanked you for allowing the dictator to impregnate you!"

  Her sadness turned to anger at his accusations. "Yet you think it was perfectly all right for me to let you make love to me?" She curled her hands into fists. Nothing would ever induce her to tell him the truth now. Not after he'd hurled insults at her head. "Do not forget that I kept Santa Anna distracted so your army could overpower him. Surely that was worth a little sacrifice?"

  They glared at each other for a long moment; then she spoke. "I have nothing more to say to you, Ian McCain."

  She watched his features harden, as if he was trying to comprehend all she'd told him. He shrugged. "Perhaps I'm wrong. You may have liked that man's hands on you. I have heard that many women do."

  She turned and hurried toward her carriage, unmindful of the puddles of water. She had nothing more to say to Ian, ever!

  Suddenly Ian gripped her arm and spun her around. "I was not finished talking to you."

  "Do you expect to force me to listen to you? For that is what you will have to do-force me. I never want to see you again."

  He didn't loosen his grip on her for fear she would take flight. He could feel the rise and fall of her breasts as he gripped her tighter against him. "This baby will have my name, Emerada. Think about it-I give the child my name, you go back to Texas with me and remain until the child is born, and then you are free to go where you will. I will make no demands on you, and you will make none on me. The final result will be that your child will have a name. Is the baby not worth a small sacrifice?"

  She was astonished by his offer. "You are saying if I marry you, neither of us will be tied to the other?"

  He stepped away from her, cramming his hands in his pockets because he didn't know what else to do with them. He stared at a branch that swayed in the wind, just above Emerada's head. "I merely want to make it clear that if you many me, you will be free to leave after the baby arrives."

  She knew she was going to agree to marry him because of the baby. He would never have to know that the child she bore was indeed his. She would go with him to Tejas, have the baby, and then return to France.

  She remembered him telling her about the woman that he was betrothed to in Virginia. She couldn't say he had ever kept his feelings for the woman a secret. He must love Pauline very much, although he had shared beautiful, intimate moments with Emerada. Emerada would steal only a little from the woman for her baby's sake. Then Ian would be free to go to his Pauline.

  "If I marry you, Ian, will you promise to give me my freedom after the baby is born?"

  "You have my word that the day you give birth, you will be free of me forever."

  "Is that a promise?"

  "I gave you my word, and I never go back on my word."

  She straightened her shoulders and looked into his eyes. "I have always found you to be trustworthy. I will marry you, have this child, and then take up my life again."

  He nodded and held out his arm to her. "It's a bargain."

  A sudden clap of thunder shook the ground, and it started raining hard. Ian hurried Emerada to his carriage and told her to wait while he dismissed her driver.

  Emerada leaned back, dabbing rain from her face with her lace handkerchief, wondering if she'd lost her mind. She had just agreed to marry Ian, knowing he loved someone else. She must be begging for heartache. She'd tried to convince herself that she was marrying Ian only for the baby, but she couldn't lie to herself. She loved Ian, and the thought of never seeing him again had been so painful she could hardly endure it.

  Her face burned with shame for allowing Ian to believe that she had been intimate with Santa Anna. It made her sick inside that Ian would always believe she had allowed Santa Anna to touch her. She'd found out the day of the battle that she would have killed either Santa Anna or herself before she would have allowed that monster to make love to her. Why didn't Ian know that about her?

  Ian climbed into the coach and sat opposite her. "You are soaked. We had better get you home."

  "Where will we live in Tejas, Ian?"

  "I have been
assigned the sad duty of helping rebuild San Antonio. I believe there is a boardinghouse where you'll be quite comfortable until I can find something more suitable."

  Emerada was glad for the opportunity to talk of something other than her and the baby. "What a sad task you have ahead of you, Ian. There will be so many people who will need help, and so much destroyed that must be rebuilt."

  "So it would seem. I'm still in the Texas army and must fulfill my duties, Emerada. I believe I can safely say that you will not have to endure my presence, except on rare occasions." He wiped the raindrops on his forehead with his coatsleeve. "Is this arrangement to your satisfaction?"

  She searched his face for evidence of the gentleness she'd seen in him at Talavera when he had planted his seed in her. This Ian was more like the man she'd first met, a cold, impersonal stranger.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him the truth, but she caught herself just in time. "I have no objections to the arrangement."

  "Have you any objections to leaving New Orleans?"

  Emerada shook her head. "No, none."

  The carriage hit a bump, and he grabbed her to steady her, and then released her. "For the baby's sake, we must sometimes give the appearance of a happily married couple."

  "I understand," she said, turning away from him to stare out the window. "For the baby's sake."

  The wedding took place in the rectory of St. Louis Cathedral, with Domingo and Molly as witnesses. Emerada wore a soft blue gown with a matching mantilla. Ian wore a black coat and trousers, his hair neatly combed, his manner curt and dispassionate. He was solemn throughout the whole ceremony, and Emerada noticed that he didn't once look at her, not even when he slid the gold band on her finger. His detached attitude wounded her deeply, and she supposed he was thinking of the woman back in Virginia.