San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  "I will never sell that house. My aunt loved it too much."

  "Is that why you can't part with her costumes?"

  "I suppose. Perhaps someday I will be able to let them go." She turned to Ian. "I do not know if I can make you understand. You see, I have nothing left from my father, since everything was burned in the fire." She flicked open a green ostrich-feather fan. "This represents my past.

  "You have been so alone." There was compassion in his voice. "I know what that feels like."

  She smiled slightly, responding to his kindness, "I have had my moments."

  "Will you be ready to leave tomorrow?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject.

  "Must we go so soon?" She was almost afraid to leave her safe haven and live in Ian's world.

  "I have stayed away too long now, Emerada. There is so much to do to help form the new republic, and Houston needs all his loyal friends at this time. We have to make Texas so strong that Mexico will never again move against us."

  "Mexico will hesitate to take Houston on again. But the time will come when they will test him, Ian. They will have to. They were humiliated by losing the war and by Santa Anna's disgraceful actions."

  It suddenly struck Ian that he enjoyed discussing politics and the welfare of the new republic with Emerada. She was intelligent and had a firm understanding of the situation in Texas. She understood about the fledging nation and many of the difficulties it would face. And she had done as much as any man to bring about an independent republic. Although she had not yet admitted it to herself, she had been instrumental in toppling Santa Anna.

  "There have already been several skirmishes near the border. We have to make certain that they don't escalate into another war."

  Emerada shuddered. "I pray that I will never have to witness another war."

  Ian glanced at the heavy trunks, which would take hours to pack. "Shouldn't you have someone help you with this chore?"

  "No. This is something I must do myself."

  She lifted a shimmering black mantilla and ran her fingers lovingly over it. "This belonged to my mother" She placed it over her head, and the folds fell across her cheek and down her back.

  Ian drew in his breath. She was so beautiful it hurt to look at her. He took a step toward her and stopped himself. He didn't want to do anything that would make her reconsider going to Texas with him.

  "I hope you're going to take that. It is very becoming to you."

  She removed the mantilla and gently laid it aside. "Si-this I will take with me."

  "I still have several arrangements to make." He walked to the stairs. "I will send Domingo to you. I don't want you to lift any of those heavy trunks."

  Emerada waited for him to leave before she let out her breath. Whenever Ian was near her, it was difficult to pretend indifference to him.

  Would he learn to care for her, just a little? No. He loved the woman in Virginia.

  Perhaps when they reached Tejas-she heard his footsteps fade down the steps. No, she must not give herself false hopes. Perhaps it was enough that she loved him.

  Ian had made sure the coach that would take them to Texas was well sprung and the seats comfortable, since it would be difficult for Emerada to travel in her condition.

  As the coach bounced over the rutted road, Emerada had to brace herself by gripping the leather handhold. Ian was sitting across from her with his hat pulled down over his face and his booted feet resting on the seat beside her.

  Suddenly the coach hit a deep rut, lurched, and she went flying out of her seat to fall against Ian.

  When he finally untangled her from a flurry of petticoats, he held her to his side. "Are you hurt?"

  "No, not at all."

  "The ride will be smoother when we get to the dryer region. The recent rains have caused deep ruts in the road here."

  Emerada laughed as she remembered their first meeting. "It seems I am always falling into your arms."

  He pressed her head to his shoulder. "Let it always be so," he said beneath his breath.

  She pulled away. "What did you say?"

  "It's of no importance. I will remark, however, on what a charming traveling companion you are. I have not heard a complaint from you, although the going has been rough at times. Especially for a woman in your condition."

  Emerada yawned and laid her head against Ian's shoulder. She felt his deep intake of breath, and his arm settled around her. She was content to rest against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

  She loved his courage and his commitment to what he believed in. He was a man who would always do what was right, not because others expected it of him, but because he expected it of himself.

  Her eyes drifted shut, and she fell contentedly asleep.

  Emerada didn't know when Ian laid his cheek against her head, nor did she feel his lips rest against her cheek. She didn't know his muscles tightened and he held her, loverlike, in his arms.

  When the coach reached the outskirts of San Antonio, Emerada was surprised to see all the new buildings. Of course, when they entered the town, she saw the same destruction she'd seen before.

  "I always loved San Antonio, Ian. It is a pity that the town was so ravaged by war, and so many people were left without a place to live."

  "The aftermath of war is never a pretty sight, Emerada."

  She glanced over at him. "I know the war was necessary, but the people, Ian-what about them?"

  "I was told that many of the Mexican families followed Lieutenant Castaneda back to Mexico. Juan Seguin reports that there are only fifty people now residing in San Antonio. As time passes, more will come, and those who fled will return."

  "I suppose."

  It was stiflingly hot, and Emerada held her lace handkerchief to her nose, praying she was not going to be ill.

  Ian saw her pallor and took her hand. "I will soon have you settled so you can rest." She nodded, wishing she were lying down.

  "Shall I get the doctor for you?"

  "No. As you said, I merely need to rest."

  "Did I make a mistake in bringing you here?" His jaw tightened. "There is not a proper doctor here, nor any of the comforts you're accustomed to."

  "As you very well know, I have slept on the ground and in a stable. I am not one of your soft Southern women, Ian. I do not want to be pampered, so say no more about it."

  He grinned. "How could I have forgotten for a moment that you have fire in your spirit?" His eyes gleamed when he looked at her. "You are like no other woman, Emerada."

  She wondered how he would compare her and his intended bride. That woman was most probably a proper lady who would never have done any of the outrageous things Emerada had.

  The coach came to a halt before a boardinghouse so recently built it didn't even have a sign. She could smell the scent of new lumber and fresh paint. Emerada saw several workmen on ladders hammering and sawing. Apparently the building was not yet finished.

  Ian smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry about the noise. As you see, out of the ruins, new life teems."

  Emerada stepped down from the carriage with Ian's help, and her gaze went to the Alamo. She stood as if turned to stone, a lump lodged in her throat. "I never thought to look upon that sight again."

  Ian hurried her into the boardinghouse and spoke to the man at the desk. "I will require your best rooms for my wife. Can you have them ready immediately?"

  "Yes, sir, Colonel McCain," said the ruddycomplexioned man with a ready smile. "Your missus will have the best rooms in town."

  "Very good," Ian said. "And your name is...?"

  "I'm Hank Glover, Colonel." He tugged at his earlobe nervously while his gray eyes sparkled with admiration. "I rode with you at San Jacinto, and proud I was to do it. Me and the other men saw as how you had no fear, sir, and it made us feel like we were gonna win-and that's the gospel truth."

  Ian smiled. "I remember you, Sergeant Glover. As I recall, you made a good showing of yourself that day at San Jacinto."


  "I'm not in the army now, sir. I bought this place, and I aim to settle down right here in San Antonio."

  Ian glanced about the small common room. "Is there a store where you can purchase bedding and other necessary items for my wife's comfort?"

  The man cleared his throat and crossed his arms as if he didn't know what to do with them. His gaze rested briefly on Emerada, taking in her condition; then he glanced back at Ian. "Well, sir, Javier's Mercantile ain't much, but it has some comforts. Javier said he got a nice shipment of goods in yesterday from New Orleans."

  Ian laid several bills on the table. "Buy whatever you think it will take to make Mrs. McCain comfortable. If you need more money, let me know."

  "Yes, sir. I'll see to it right now." The man rushed toward the door. "It's a delight to do anything for you, sir."

  Emerada watched in amazement as the man sprinted out the door. She managed to recapture some of her good humor. She saluted Ian and imitated the man's voice. "Yes, sir, Colonel, sir, I'll do anything for the fearless warrior who seems to have won the war single-handedly."

  Ian looked at her with irony. "If he but knew it, you are the one he should pay his respects to. Poor man didn't realize that he was in the presence of the celebrated San Antonio Rose."

  Emerada moved to the window and stared at the market vendors near the square. "The San Antonio Rose is dead," she said with finality.

  Emerada watched as the hot breeze stirred the curtains at the window. She imagined that she was the only person in town with lace curtains. She wondered what Hank Glover had had to do to get some poor woman to hurriedly sew them for him.

  She walked across the braided rug onto the new plank floor, feeling confined in the small space, which consisted of a bed and a small table with two wooden chairs.

  Emerada longed for the cool breezes of Paris, but she did not wish herself there. Here she could be near Ian if he ever got back from the border, where he'd been sent the first day they'd arrived in San Antonio.

  That was five days ago. In that time she'd hardly left this room because she couldn't face the reminders of the destruction. She even had her food brought to her by an obliging Hank.

  If she closed her eyes, she could still hear the awful sounds of the dying, the ground-shaking cannon fire, the rifle shots, and the horrible sound the cannonballs made when they exploded against the mission walls.

  Leaning her forehead against the window, she looked out, knowing that from this vantage point she would see only the two new shops across the street.

  Her eyes widened, and her heart quickened. Ian had just ridden up with several other soldiers. Her gaze devoured him. She had missed him so desperately! He was dressed in his uniform and wore his hat with one side of the brim turned up and held in place with a red cockade.

  He dismounted and glanced up at her window, but she didn't think he could see her through the lacy curtains.

  His voice drifted up to her.

  "Get some rest," Ian told his men. "We have to ride for Victoria early in the morning."

  Emerada's disappointment was sharp. He would be leaving again tomorrow. She hurried to the small mirror that hung on the wall and patted her hair into place.

  An hour passed, and then two, and Ian still had not come to her room. She was beginning to wonder what could be keeping him so long. It was obvious that he hadn't come running home to her.

  At last there was a light tap on the door, and Ian entered. His hair was still damp, and he was clean-shaven. She realized that he must have bathed before he came to her.

  For a breathless moment they stared at each other.

  After a moment he said, "You didn't have the door locked."

  She blinked, slightly confused. His first words to her after being gone for so long were to reprimand her for not locking the door. "I did not think it was necessary," she answered stiffly.

  He unbuttoned his jacket and placed it and his hat on a chair. "Promise me that you will always lock the door when I'm not here. Remember, until Domingo arrives, or I am with you, you are a woman alone and susceptible to danger. There are many who know you as San Antonio Rose. I wouldn't want some enamored admirer storming your room one night."

  He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'll leave you a gun, too. I'm sorry I didn't think of it before."

  Emerada felt the strain between them. "You shouldn't worry about me. But if it would make you feel better, you may leave the gun."

  He looked her over from head to toe. "You are like a breath of spring." He glanced down at his boots, which were still dusty. "I must have swallowed a pound of trail dust between here and the border."

  She took his jacket from the back of the chair and hung it and his hat on a hook. "You must be hungry. I'll have Hank bring you something to eat. The stew at the Iron Kettle is edible."

  He smiled. "It's nice to come home to such a dutiful wife."

  She gave him a haughty glance. "I live for nothing but to please you, Ian McCain."

  His laughter followed her out the door.

  Ian sat across the small table from Emerada while Hank cleared away the remnants of their meal. "Mrs. McCain tells me that you have looked after her, Hank. I want to let you know how much I appreciate it."

  "Colonel, for your pretty missus, it's a real pleasure." He grinned broadly and left, a blush on his ruddy face.

  "Another conquest, Emerada?"

  "No. I would not say that. Hank has been very helpful. He lost a brother at Goliad, and his other brother lives in Georgia. He wants to bring his brother's family to Tejas as soon as he feels it is safe. He's lonely, Ian. I feel sorry for him."

  "It will be a comfort to me knowing he will be looking after you." He reached across the table and caught her hand in a firm clasp. "The new republic is called Texas now, Emerada."

  "Si. I know this, but I sometimes forget." She noticed the tired lines around his eyes. "When did you sleep last?"

  He rubbed his hand over his eyes. "I don't remember. I have been twelve hours in the saddle and changed horses three times. The last poor animal I almost rode to death."

  "But why?"

  He stood up and stretched his broad shoulders. "We chased several Mexican soldiers nearly to the border."

  Her mouth opened in horror, and she grabbed his arm. "You were in a battle?"

  "Of a sort. But it was of short duration. The Mexicans don't really have the stomach for fighting, and were soon heading back across the border."

  Emerada stood and moved to the bed, turning down the covers. "You must get into bed now."

  He smiled down at her. "Is that an invitation, Emerada?"

  Her cheeks flamed, and she walked across the room to pull the curtains together and close out the glow of the sunset. "There is only one bed, and we will have to share it. But I have issued you no invitation."

  He dropped down on the bed, yawning as he tugged at his boots. "I suppose I'll have to work on my charm," he said, standing up and slipping out of his trousers.

  Emerada turned away, thinking he already had more charm than one man had a right to. She blew out the lamp, casting the room in shadow. She heard the bedsprings creak when Ian lay down.

  There in the darkened room, she sat in a chair, her hands folded in her lap, listening to his breathing. He was so tired that he'd fallen asleep almost immediately. She didn't know how long she sat there, just listening to his steady breathing. She heard the sounds outside the window of people closing up their stores and going to their houses.

  A feeling of loneliness washed over her, and she wanted to strip off her clothing and climb into bed beside her husband, to be in his arms, to have him make love to her.

  He might tease her and pretend that he wanted to make love to her, but he must be disgusted by her because he thought she carried his enemy's baby. She had no one to blame but herself for the situation she found herself in. She had built a wall of deception between them, stone by stone. It stood there, impassable, and she didn't know how to tear it down. It
was too late to tell him the truth about his baby. Anyway, it would be better if he never knew.

  Somewhere, in one of the other rooms, she heard a clock chime the midnight hour. She stood up and went to the chest where she kept her nightgown. In the darkness, she quietly undressed and climbed carefully into bed, lying close to the edge.

  Her body was rigid at first because she feared any movement might awaken Ian. But soon drowsiness descended on her and she fell asleep.

  Emerada awoke and realized that someone was in her bed. Her sudden panic brought her fully awake until she remembered it was Ian. For a time she lay there, desperately wanting to touch him.

  Finally she inched her hand slowly across the distance between them and touched his arm, feeling the muscles there. Since he didn't move, she dared to go further-he would never know.

  Her hand moved lightly to his chest and rested against the mat of soft hair. Raw yearning raced through her, leaving her weak and faint.

  Emerada gasped when Ian's hand clamped over her arm and he pulled her to him. "I have been lying here, listening to that damned clock tick away the hours, wishing I could touch you," he said hoarsely. "But I didn't dare."

  His lips touched her cheek and slid past the opening of her gown to her breasts. He licked one nipple and then the other until she groaned with pleasure. Her legs intertwined with his, and she strained to be closer to him. She thought she would faint when she felt him swell against her.

  Roughly he turned her onto her back and pushed her gown upward. "For so long now I could have you only in my dreams or in my memory." He hardened and throbbed to enter her hot, moist body. "I want you, Emerada."

  She raised her head, pressing her mouth against his, and she felt intense satisfaction when he groaned her name.

  He entered her with restrained passion, careful not to hurt her or the baby. She clung to him, meeting his passion with her own.

  "Sweet little wife." He spoke against her lips, his breath becoming raspy. "You feel so good."

  "Ian," she uttered breathlessly. "Oh, Ian!"

  She ran her tongue over his lips, invoking a deeper passion in him. His engorged manhood seemed to reach into the far recesses of her trembling body.