Savage Enchantment

by Parris Afton Bonds

  Clucking like a hen, Maria Jesus dragged out a tin from the cupboard -- balsam of myrrh the tin contained, she told Kathleen -- and set about applying the ointment to the mangled hand.

  After Kathleen bound the thumb with strips of cloth, the dazed Julio thanked them before heading for the door, determined to ride again in the rodeo.

  Kathleen leaned in the kitchen doorway, watching the youth lope back to the arena. And the vision came to her mind of Simon deftly applying his handkerchief as a tourniquet to Julio's wrist. She saw again Simon's swiftly moving hands. Hands that were as sure at lovemaking as riding, shooting, and gambling.

  Chapter 14

  Kathleen reclined in the rose-scented water, letting its sensuous warmth soothe her aching muscles. The fiesta day had been a long one and still was not over.

  But all in all, it had run smoothly so far -- which was what Simon had wanted, and expected, when he had put her in charge of the hacienda. If only she could get through the evening's festivities without incurring one of his black looks. What was it about her and Simon that made them seem like two wary cocks -- ever ready to fight but restraining themselves for the moment?

  Would that moment come? God help her then, for Simon Reyes would be a foe to reckon with. But then, so was she, and she would yet have her revenge on the man. Patience ... patience, a voice inside her whispered. Your chance to vindicate that night will come.

  The sounds of guitars and trumpets and violins tuning up floated through the hacienda, and Kathleen realized she would have to hurry. Quickly she stepped from the hip tub, and, taking the large towel Amelia handed her, dried her peach-hued skin before slipping into a satin chemise. Over this she pulled a white satin gown with puffed sleeves and a scooped neckline. Spangled satin slippers and a lace fan completed the startling white attire.

  As Amelia swept Kathleen's silken mane up into a crown of curls atop her head, tying the abundant hair with a white ribbon, Kathleen applied a light touch of rose salve to her lips and pinched her cheeks for color.

  When she was ready, she cast only a cursory glance in the mirror, not realizing the beautiful young woman reflected there was such a great contrast to the woman who had arrived on the shores of California wearing thick spectacles and a severe hairdo.

  So, naturally, she did not interpret the strange look that flickered in Simon's eyes when she entered the sala. Nor the sidelong glances of envy thrown by the female guests or the admiring ones openly bestowed by the men.

  She paused there in the sala's double doorway, hoping to see Nathan's familiar face. In th elight of the gleaming candles the mixture of iridescent white cloth and golden skin and hair was a stark contrast to the sober, dark colors worn by the guests. Her radiance eclipsed all there but that of Simon, whose tall, sinewy frame was clad completely in black, with only the ruffles of white silk at his wrists and throat to serve as relief.

  As he moved toward Kathleen, more than a few pair of eyes noted how the tutoress and the ranchero seemed to complement one another -- like the brightest star against the black velvet of night.

  Among those watchful stares Kathleen saw the black-eyed glare of Francesca and was glad she had been able to avoid the petulant-looking girl the whole day, leaving it to Amelia to show Francesca and her mother the bedroom they were to share with Doña Modeste and to see to it that they were comfortable.

  Francesca's eyes hungered after the broad back of Simon Reyes, unaware of Dimitri's whispered words of flattery to her. Just as Kathleen was unaware of Simon's appraising gaze until he was at her side, handing her one of the two glasses of wine he held.

  "You're a bruja, Catalina," he said in words meant for her ears alone. "Like a witch, you cast your spell, changing yourself from a gray mouse to a fairy queen." He raised his glass in an intimate gesture of toasting. "To Calafí, the golden amazon queen for whom California was named."

  Kathleen could scarcely believe she heard right. She looked up into the harsh features, searching for a sign of his usual mockery. She saw instead the dark flickering of desire in the green depths of his eyes.

  Her lips curled scornfully over the rim of her glass. "You dare believe your honeyed words could win from me what your body has so savagely taken? Have done with your ridicule, Simon. I'll be out of your life within the year. And, gracias a Dios, you'll be out of mine!"

  Simon's eyes crinkled in laughter. "Already you've turned back into a bruja. Maybe the warmth of a man's kisses would change the witch into a fairy queen again."

  "That's an opportunity you'll never have!"

  She turned from him, her dress swirling about her ankles, and made her way through the crowded room with the intent of talking with Don Pio Pico, whom she saw Diego admit a brawny man dressed in the sailor's garb of navy-blue duck trousers and jacket and a think blue tie.

  She deposited her untouched glass on a nearby table and hurried to the entrance. "Nathan," she said pleasurably.

  His big, rough hands closed over Kathleen's. "How've you fared, lass?" He looked over her head, his blue eyes questioning the tall man who approached them.

  Simon nodded. "How are you, Nathan?"

  "Touchy as a porcupine at the moment, with the customs officials on my heels." His gaze roamed over the guests. "I see the cream of California are gathered here. By the end of the fiesta there should be no doubt as to your patriotism."

  Simon smiled thinly but made no reply. Instead he turned to Kathleen. "I think the gentleman over there in blue -- Señor Martínez -- is boring Father Marcos. Would you rescue the good padre, Kathleen?"

  "Of course," she answered. "I'll leave you two gentlemen to discuss your nefarious enterprise."

  As she made her way across the room, Nathan said, "I made a mistake in telling you about her, Simon."

  "I won't discuss it -- not even with you, Nathan."

  "She's gentle-bred," the sea-captain persisted. "It's obvious, isn't it, by her manner?"

  "And you think my base-born manners too coarse for the girl?"

  "You're asking for trouble, Simon. Gemma's screeching her ire at every turn. I"d tread warily on your next visit to Santa Barbara."

  "That may be sooner than planned. Gemma's been here once already. On the pretext of visiting the Castro rancho for the weekend. She brought word that Santa Ana has ordered our illustrious deputado -- Martínez there -- to see to it that Micheltorena expells Frémont and his men from California -- by force, if necessary."

  The gaze of the two men returned to where Kathleen stood in conversation with Martínez and Father Marcos. At that moment Francesca and Dimitri joined Kathleen and the men with her.

  "I met you, did I not, at the Santa Barbara Mission?" Dimitri asked, as if he did not quite believe his eyes. "It is the same lady, isn't it, Father Marcos?"

  The brown-robed padre laughed, and Kathleen said, "I'd begun to think you had a poor memory, Dimitri. I was also at the Escandón fiesta, but you didn't seem to recognize me then."

  "You are right to chide me, señorita," Dimitri said. A flirtatious smile erupted beneath the thin black mustache. "A thousand pardons."

  As if she did not like being left out of the conversation, Francesca said sweetly, "Are you trying to make a convert of our little tutoress, Father Marcos?"

  Martínez raised startled, bushy brows. "Señorita, you do not share the Faith?"

  "Señor Martínez," Father Marcos explained, "is Monterey's deputado to Mexico, and, as such, feels strongly about the obligations of the people."

  The corners of Kathleen's lips curved upwards. "I'm afraid I don't share the Faith. I'm as gentile as the renegade Indians you were denouncing."

  The deputado looked at Kathleen askance. "Have care señorita. The Faith is not a thing to be taken lightly. You realize, do you not, that the Protestants have no legal rights in California."

  Kathleen paled slightly. "But, Señor Martínex, why should I have concern over legal rights? I'm only here for a temporary period of time."

  "The deputado doesn't me
an for his words to frighten you," Father Marcos said gently. "But there are those wo wished to overthrow the Mexican rule, and one can never be too careful. However, my daughter, your intentions would never be questioned, working as you do under the roof of such an esteemed gentleman as Señor Reyes. Am I not right, Señor Martínez?"

  "Oh, quite, Father. But tell me, señorita, how is it Señor Reyes was fortunate enough to employ a woman as a tutor?"

  "Yes, do tell us," Francesca said, fanning herself fiercely. "I'm sure it makes an interesting story."

  "Indeed," Dimitri added, his dark eyes roaming over Kathleen with the same speculative gaze she had seen in the eyes of Boston's fortune hunters. "The sight of an American woman is rare here. And one as beautiful as you -- and a tutor, besides, well ..." The black eyes flashed appreciatively, unaware of Francesca's pouting lips.

  "I'm here because --" Kathleen broke off, not knowing what to say next. Perspiration broke out on her temples. Could any of those about her relate the reward posters to herself?

  "Miss Summers's job as tutoress is quite easily explained," a voice said behind her. Simon came to her side, tall and self-assured.

  "Miss Summers and I met briefly in Europe, where women teachers are more readily accepted." Simon glanced down at her with a polite smile. "I was persuaded by her delightful combination of charm and intelligence that she'd make an excellent employee. And when I settled here, I immediately made plans to hire her."

  "But, Simon, you never told me you had been to Europe," Francesca said.

  Simon smiled engagingly down at Francesca's sullen face. "There are a lot of things I haven't told anyone." Simon looked around at those about him. "For fear the deputado here would report me for being such a rakehell!"

  Martínez's laughter boomed throughout the room. "Impossible, Señor Reyes. I'd have to report all of us, then!"

  There was a general eruption of laughter, and when it died down, Simon said, "Now if you'll excuse us, we should attend our other guests."

  Simon took Kathleen's arm and guided her among the few guests, mostly older ones, who still remained within doors. From outside, the refrains of a violin's haunting melody drifted through the open veranda doors. The sweet night air enveloped Kathleen, as she and Simon made their way out onto the veranda, restoring some courage to her shaking limbs.

  The words of gratitude came uneasily to her lips as she and Simon paused beneath one of the lanterns hung from a camphor tree. "Thank you, Simon. For sparing me, in there." She kept her eyes on the couples who danced sedately to a Spanish ballad.

  "Your thanks aren't what I want, Kathleen."

  Her eyes met his. "You'll receive nothing else from me -- freely given."

  "Careful, bebé. You tempt the hands of Fate."

  Then, before she could protest, he drew her within the circle of his arms and whirled her out into the center of the patio to join the other dancing couples.

  "Stop this, Simon! Do you want a scene?"

  He pulled her against him, holding her firmly as they moved as one. "Why? I thought all women liked to dance." His mocking words fanned the curls against her temple where his lips rested.

  "Can't you understand? I hate the touch of your hands on me! I hate you!"

  "Oh? Then I'm not good enough for you?"

  "Ha! You have the audacity to ask me that? A profiteer? A gigolo? Or do you deny that you used Santa Ana's wife to gain del Bravo? No, don't bother. You're a man without loyalties, principles. I find your kind despicable."

  "And what kind are you, Catalina?" His smile was a sneer. "A woman that'll go to bed with a man for the right price or rank? -- a Castilian soldier can buy your charms, but not a cholo vaquero."

  Kathleen stiffened in outrage. But the fury that rose like bile in her throat was choked back by sudden fear. Her knees grew weak as she stared past Simon to the dark figure on the veranda.

  Edmund Woodsworth's lipless smile was like the malevolent grin of a skull.

  Chapter 15

  Like some ghoulish fiend in a nightmare, Edmund moved down the veranda steps toward Kathleen. The dolorous strains of "Ojos Negros" died away. One by one the guests turned toward the stranger.

  Kathleen wondered abstracted, even as she cringed unknowingly against Simon, whether curiosity about the stranger had interrupted the fiesta or if the guests felt, as she did, the subtle presence of something malignant.

  Simon took her arm to steady her. "What is it, Kathleen?" In the wide burgundy-colored eyes he saw a fear that had not been there even on the night he so brutally took her.

  Kathleen's head shook wordlessly, and Simon, following her glazed look, saw the thin, elegantly dressed man moving languidly toward them. But it was the soldier beyond, who stood menacingly on the veranda, that caught Simon's attention. What mischief was Aguila bent on now? Simon wondered.

  The stranger, dressed in nankeen pantaloons and a claret coat, which did not conceal the gleam of the sword at the waist, brought Simon's thoughtful gaze back to the moment at hand.

  Edmund bowed low before Kathleen. "My heart has been slowly dying since the moment you left," he said with a chilling smile.

  She would have laughed at the affect words of endearment had not stark fear gripped her. "You don't have a heart, Edmund!" she whispered hoarsely, struggling to retain some semblance of composure.

  Edmund drew himself up in feigned righteousness. "How can you accuse me so unjustly? Have I not followed you halfway across the globe ... just to be at your side again?"

  "Don't pretend with me. You know I don't want you as my husband!" Her words tumbled on in a rush. "I wouldn't have you near me for all the money in the world! Your touch is repulsive -- as slimy as a viper's!"

  Kathleen's hands clenche dthe delicate lace fan, and it broke with a brittle snap in the silence of the courtyard.

  Edmund's eyes glittered with rage. He said, in a silky, soft voice full of threat, "I'm afraid you've no choice, my dearest. You are my fiancée, are you not?"

  "I don't believe you understood the lady." Simon's voice was just as soft and low, but its very lack of emotion lent a lethal tone to it.

  Edmund turned pale blue eyes on Simon. "And what business, my dear sir, is this matter of yours?"

  Simon's eyes narrowed, their color changing like a chameleon's from the cactus-hued green to a deadly gunmetal gray. "I'm the owner of the land on which you presently stand -- without an invitation."

  The guests shuffled about uneasily, and from the edge of the crowd Kathleen saw Don Pio Pico, followed by Aguila, push his way through the crowd toward her and the two men who faced each other like duelists.

  "What's going on here, gentlemen?" Don Pico asked in his troll-like voice.

  Edmund looked at the leathery ranchero. "And you are?" he asked with a disdainful lift of fair brows.

  Simon's lips curved in a mirthless smile. "A former representative of the Mexican government -- Don Pio Pico."

  Edmund sketched an elegant bow. "In that case, Don Pio, I shall address myself to you."

  He withdrew wrinkled papers from his waistcoat and handed them to the older man. "I'm Edmund Woodsworth, Don Pio. Miss Whatley, my intended" -- he smiled thinly at Kathleen -- "decided to leave Boston prior to our wedding. Through the passenger list of one of the ships I traced her to Santa Barbara, but was unable to find her."

  Edmund's slim white finger pointed at the top sheaf. "I had this reward posted" -- he looked directly at Simon -- "and an informant told me I could find my fiancée here."

  Kathleen whirled on Simon. "You! You -- Judas! You turned me in!"

  Dear God, and she had almost turned to Simon for protection! His concern for her, his anger at Edmund, had been so convincing. But it had all been a charade. A trick.

  Kathleen's hands came up as if to claw Simon's eyes. But his betrayal, coming on the heels of Edmund's arrival, so numbed her that her attack resembled more a beseechment as she swayed in helpless fury toward him.

  "Come along, Kathleen," Edmu
nd said, and he moved as if to take her.

  "No!" she cried, shrinking back against Simon.

  "I would not do that if I were you," Simon said with a deceptive softness.

  Edmund's hand fell to his side to grasp the hilt of his sword.

  Nathan stepped forward. "Just a moment here, Woodsworth. You can't just walk in, claiming the lass is your intended, and whisk her away."

  "If you'll look at the other papers, Don Pio," Edmund said imperiously, "you'll find documents from James Whatley, making me his daughter's legal guardian and requesting that I escort her back to Boston."

  As Pico held the papers up to catch the light of the lanterns, his somber expression changing to a frown as he read. Nathan moved to Simon's side, and Kathleen heard Simon whisper briefly to the sea-captain before Pico handed the papers back to Edmund.

  "The documents look in order, Simon. And Miss Summers -- Whatley -- is not of legal age yet. So I see no other --"

  "Gentlemen," Simon said, "as you can see, my wife is weak with shock. If --"

  "Your wife?" Edmund snarled with disbelief.

  "If you'll be so good as to excuse us," Simon continued with exaggerated patience. "I'll take my wife to our room -- and return to clear up this unpleasant manner."

  Kathleen's lips parted in dismay. "You can't be --"

  Simon's iron grasp about her waist crushed off her words in a gasp even as startled shispers at his revelation passed among the group gathered there.

  Aguila stepped in front of Simon as if to block his way. Simon growled low, "Move aside, Aguila."

  As if for acknowledgment, the lieutenant looked to Edmund, but Pico interrupted. "Get out of the way, damn you, Aguila! Can't you see the lady's ill?"

  Edmund nodded his head with a slight motion, and the officer stepped back as Simon swept Kathleen up in his arms and moved forward. There was a confused rush of talk when the ranchero and the woman he carried in his arms and called his wife disappeared within.

  But Kathleen was unaware of the words tha tlept from tongue to tongue of the guests outside. "Are you insane?" she demanded. "Do you think I'd marry you either? You're as despicable as --"