The Wildest Heart

by Rosemary Rogers

The way her eyebrow shot up told me that she had seen through my silly subterfuge, but her voice was indulgent, and even slightly amused.

  “Of course you may! It is yours; you may do whatever you wish with it. And it’s very kind of you to take such an interest in our little Luz. I’m afraid you must think I neglect her. Yes, really…”

  Sitting up in bed, Elena frowned thoughtfully, as if she was really concerned, and yet I had the feeling that we still sparred with each other, as we had from the very beginning.

  “I must tell that thoughtless son of mine to bring her some pretty gowns the next time he goes to Santa Fe or Mexico. And in the meantime, there are so many of mine that I hardly wear and might be altered for her.” Our eyes met, and she smiled. “There, does that make you think a little better of me? You must not think that I’m not fond of Luz.”

  “I’ve never doubted it,” I said noncommittally, and smiled when I thanked her for her generosity.

  “If you need anything, you have only to ask, of course. You are my daughter.” She paused for a moment and added mischievously, “Or my little sister, perhaps, since the shaman my father has adopted you!”

  Elena Kordes and I understood each other well enough, and there were times when I almost enjoyed sharpening my wits against hers. This morning, I had the feeling that she was being deliberately, exaggeratedly kind—both to Luz and to me, as if we were children who must be indulged.

  I went downstairs afterwards, leaving Luz admiring her new gown before the mirror, and had almost reached the kitchen when I heard Lucas’s angry voice. He came striding through the archway before I had time to move past—almost barreling into me.

  “What are you doing downstairs? You ought to be restin’ up.”

  But his voice was distracted, and I think he would have brushed past me without any further ceremony if I had not deliberately stood in his way.

  “Good morning, Lucas. Aren’t you going to congratulate me? After all, you had so much to do with my decision to marry your brother!”

  I thought he had to blink his eyes to focus them on me. And I noticed then that he was shirtless and bareheaded—beaded, Apache-style moccasins on his feet. I noticed too that he looked tired as well as angry.

  “Congratulate you?” His husky voice echoed my words as if he hardly comprehended them, and I saw how his fingers riffled irritably through his hair, pushing it off his forehead.

  “Of course—on my engagement to Ramon!” I repeated with mock-patience. “Do you intend to make a habit of coming back to the house this early every day, Lucas? If so I’ll make an effort to stay out of your way.”

  “What in hell are you talkin’ about? Where’s Elena? We got company, seems like… Thought I’d better warn everybody.”

  I had a feeling he was thinking of something else, even though he had condescended to explain to me. There were tension lines in his face, and the sun wrinkles looked deeper.

  “You mean that somebody’s coming here? Somebody from outside?”

  “Don’t get your hopes up. No one you know.”

  “I suppose rudeness comes naturally to you!”

  “An’ you ask too damn many questions.”

  “I’m sure I can find out anything I wish to know without having to resort to asking you any questions!”

  “Wait a minute!”

  He grasped my arm roughly and swung me around to face him.

  “Look—look, I’m sorry.” His voice was as rough as the grip of his fingers around my arm, but sheer surprise held me still this time. “I’d no call to snap your head off the way I did. But there are some things you don’t understand.”

  “I’m always being told that.”

  “Told what? Lucas, are you two quarreling again? I don’t mean to intrude, of course, but when I heard your voice… is anything wrong?” Lucas dropped my arm as if it had suddenly burned his fingers, and I could have sworn he flushed guiltily when Elena’s coolly amused voice sounded behind us.

  I could not stop myself from watching his face. It changed as usual when he saw her, when he spoke to her—but this time taut anger came into it.

  Perhaps he wouldn’t have spoken so bluntly if I had not been present. “I came here to tell you that Montoya is on his way in. He gave the signal, and Julio went to meet him.”

  There was a slight pause, a fraction of an instant when Elena seemed to hesitate, and then she laughed softly.

  “But that is wonderful! So, at last you two will meet again and settle your differences, as I have hoped for, for so long! It’s high time, and you know it!”

  “Don’t be too sure of anything! Huh!” Lucas made a harsh sound. They both seemed to have forgotten me for the moment.

  “Me and Montoya—you expect us to settle things and be friends again that easy, when you know damn well how it was when we last met? You know it, Elena. Why does he come here? Why do you encourage him to do so?”

  Her head went back and I saw her eyes narrow. “And why shouldn’t I? Just because you had a stupid quarrel with him is no reason why I should turn away from an old friend—and a friend of your father’s too, must I remind you?”

  He said savagely, “No, you don’t have to remind me of that, an’ you know it!”

  The tension between them was a tangible thing. They looked at each other as if they were alone, and it was Elena who first remembered my presence.

  “Lucas, please! Will you not try to act at least halfway civilized toward him? For my sake? Jesus is angry with you, yes, just as you are with him, but it was so long ago, and it is over now! He has been here, he accepts the fact that Luz stays here. Never has he tried to force himself on her.”

  “Or on you? Can you tell me that? Or why he never fails to bring you gifts? Like this…” he caught her hand and held it between them. The enormous ruby glistened with a dark fire of its own, and I did not know if it was my gasp or Elena’s that echoed softly in my ears.

  “Lucas!” Instead of pulling her hand away Elena brought her other hand up, touching his bare chest caressingly, almost tenderly. “You know that Jesus Montoya has been like a brother to me. We’ve known each other a long time, since you were no more than a child!” Her voice changed from softness to mock-severity. “Come now, who was it who made you a present of your first horse? And the first gun you ever owned? Before you two quarreled you were like father and son. Jesus always has been a generous man with his friends, and well you know it!”

  I thought that he sighed, the expression in his eyes bleak. “And how well you know how to wheedle me out of my anger! But Montoya had better remember that I am no longer the niño he used to call me, and I warn you, if he…”

  Elena turned to me with a teasing laugh. “Ah, Rowena! You see how fierce he is, this son of mine?”

  I think Lucas felt himself driven past endurance at that moment. “Not at all, mamacita. When you command me, I always become tame, do I not?”

  It was the first time I had heard him call her “mother,” and I saw her eyes widen; both at that, and the grim sarcasm that underlay his voice.

  Before she could say anything else, he put his hand on my arm, drawing me with him.

  “Will you excuse us? Rowena has reminded me that I have not congratulated her and Ramon yet, and I feel in the mood for a glass of wine.”

  Her indulgent smile put us both firmly in our places—as it was meant to, I suppose.

  “But of course. You must find Ramon and you must all celebrate. And I have an even better idea—tonight we will have a fiesta!” With a rustling of her skirts, she walked toward the door leading into the kitchen, and Lucas dropped my arm to open it for her. I had noticed before that this was the kind of automatic courtesy he always showed her—and only her.

  When he turned back to look at me I was armed against him, my eyes cold. “Why don’t you go behind her and ask her forgiveness for having spoken like a jealous boy!” I could not prevent the venom from showing in my voice, nor the disgust, and his mouth tightened.

 
“Are you always so contemptuous of the feelings of others? Or is your damned indifferent air a cover-up for your own weakness?”

  “Weakness!” I almost spat the word at him, even while I wondered at my own anger. “Why must those who are weak constantly look for the same infirmity in others?”

  “I guess you’d call lovin’ somebody weakness too, wouldn’t you? What kind of a woman are you, for God’s sake?”

  “A woman who is none of your concern any longer!” I flashed back at him.

  We were far too close, and in spite of my angry words I was afraid that he would touch me again, afraid of my own weakness.

  I would have preferred him to show his anger in response to mine, but instead his green-flecked eyes had taken on almost a puzzled expression as he looked down at me. “What have I done to you to make you hate me as much as you do, Rowena? Oh, I know I’ve done things to make you mad, but it goes deeper than that with you, doesn’t it?”

  He was so close to me that I could see the faint scars, thin white lines against the brown of his bare chest. For an instant, I was seized with an almost overwhelming desire to reach my hand out and touch him as Elena had done, and the feeling shook me so much that I could not control the slight tremor in my voice.

  “I don’t hate you… that’s ridiculous! For goodness’ sake, what makes you think I’d feel so strongly about you, one way or the other? You have a way of making me lose my temper, that’s all.”

  When I moved past him, walking far too quickly, I felt as if I was running away. He let me go without another word.

  Twenty-Five

  The night that followed will always remain “the night of the fiesta” to me. No matter how far I travel or how much older I become, I think that I will always be able to close my eyes and see us all as we were on that particular night, with an enormous, slightly lopsided moon peering over the mountain ridges, and the tinier, flickering lights of the small fires that Elena had ordered built for warmth. There was a tree-shaded patio behind the house, with a wide half-wall surrounding it on three sides. Tonight, in addition to the small fires, there was torchlight and music. We were supposed to enjoy ourselves.

  “You will have to get used to our Spanish ways, Rowena,” Ramon had teased me earlier, when I protested that there was no need for such a large celebration of our engagement. “Any excuse to have a fiesta—to make merry and be happy. And tonight we will all be happy.”

  For Luz, it was the perfect occasion to wear her new gown, and to dazzle everyone with her high-piled, sophisticated hairstyle. Elena had given her pearls to wear, and they seemed to glow against her tawny skin. I wore white—like a bride, like a virgin, I thought to myself with a pang of self-derision, as I looked at myself in the mirror. A simple gown to make me appear young and innocent. Elena offered me jewelry to wear, but I refused it; and acting on a last-minute impulse I let my hair hang loose. Why not? It seemed that I had a role to play, and I would play it to the hilt. Elena would understand, if no one else did!

  I was the last to go downstairs, for I had helped Luz to dress and pin her hair up in the elaborate style she had begged for. Outside, someone had started to play a guitar, a mournful Spanish air, and I could smell the spicy aroma of the food that Paquita was preparing in the kitchen; hear the murmured talk and laughter that floated through the widely opened doors.

  Ramon waited for me at the foot of the stairs, handsome in his dark charro costume, with the white ruffle of his shirt forming a pleasing contrast to his olive-tinted skin. I saw a flare of desire spring into his eyes as he came forward to catch my wrists, pulling me against him for an instant to place a kiss at the corner of my mouth.

  “You look so beautiful! Like a princess. Every time I set eyes on you, Rowena, I can hardly believe how lucky I am!”

  We went outside, and there were more compliments. But of the three women there, I felt that I was the plainest, and the compliments merely kindness. Luz looked as if she sparkled from the inside out, and I saw Lucas at her side, a sullen expression on his face. His only concession to the celebration was the wearing of a red silk shirt, wide-sleeved and open down the front. I was reminded only too vividly of the scrap of red silk that had been his signal to Flo Jeffords and hers to him, and I felt my fixed smile falter for an instant. He did not move from his place to greet me, but I saw his eyes narrow slightly and his mouth go up at one corner as if he wished me to know that he was not to be taken in by my demure appearance.

  “So Rowena has come outside to join us at last!”

  Elena, silk and velvet skirts clinging to her body and swirling out behind her in a train that would have done credit to any duchess, came forward to greet me, just as if this had been some formal occasion, and I a shy guest.

  Ramon stood back proudly as she linked her arm in mine and drew me forward.

  “This is Rowena, of course, who is to be my daughter. Jesus, is she not as lovely as I told you she was?”

  The tall, slender man who put aside the guitar he’d been holding and came forward to greet me must be Jesus Montoya, then. The comanchero. The man whom Lucas had fought over Luz. I remembered everything that I had heard about these comancheros, and I suppose my eyes must have seemed guarded when I raised them to his, for I thought he smiled mockingly as he bent over my hand with true Spanish gallantry. He spoke to me in Spanish too.

  “I have heard much about you, and you are no disappointment. I can only say that Ramon is an extremely lucky man!”

  He straightened, and I met eyes so dark they seemed black. Streaks of white in his hair and moustache only seemed to emphasize the animal good looks of this man. He was neither as old as I had imagined, nor as brutish. And yet, I had sensed the scrutiny of his gaze, and some instinct told me that this was a man I should be very careful with.

  I smiled at him in what I hoped was a guileless fashion. “You are a born courtier, señor! But what woman does not appreciate flattery?”

  “With your beauty, señorita, you must be a connoisseur. You will let me flatter you again, I hope—later on? With Ramon’s permission, of course!”

  “Oh, but Rowena has eyes for no one but Ramon! She had three of my sons to choose from, but the other two she put in their places from the beginning, isn’t that so?”

  Elena’s voice was as light as mine had been, and I matched her with my soft laugh.

  “Oh, but to be fair you must admit I did not find it hard to choose! Your other sons are committed elsewhere, only Ramon was kind enough to fall in love with me!”

  I wondered if we would all have to endure an evening filled with nothing but pretty, insincere speeches.

  Ramon led me away, and the vaqueros smiled and nodded to me, each one in turn congratulating us. Jesus Montoya had brought one other man with him, an older man with swarthy, rather flat features, who gazed at me with no expression at all. But he took the guitar that Montoya flung at him laughingly after a while and played it until everyone forgot what he looked like.

  “That is Chato,” Ramon whispered to me. “He is the best guitar player I have ever heard. The only thing he does better, I think, is shoot.”

  “Well, I hope we do not have an exhibition of that particular skill!” I whispered back a trifle sharply.

  I was beginning to wonder—and especially when I saw Elena go up to Lucas, and take his arm, with a laughing apology to Luz. Ramon had already swept me into the steps of a lively dance that I had some difficulty in following at first. Soon afterwards, Jesus Montoya walked over to where Luz sat perched on the low wall, and bowed to her, a trifle exaggeratedly. I expected her to turn away from him, but instead she smiled, and dimpled prettily at something he said as she took his arm with every evidence of enjoyment.

  I stole a glance at Lucas, and his face looked grim. His head bent, he was engaged in some kind of low-voiced argument with Elena, whose smile never faltered.

  I could not stop myself from glancing upward at Ramon.

  “Do you think there will be trouble? There’s Luz
dancing quite unconcernedly with señor Montoya, and I thought she had to be rescued from him not too long ago!”

  His fingers squeezed mine reassuringly.

  “Do not worry, querìda! Do you not see that my mother has everything well in hand? Luz is taking your advice, I think, and making my brother jealous, which is good for him, you’ll have to admit. And as for Montoya… well,” he shrugged, half-humorously, “only Montoya knows what he thinks! But even he has too much respect for my mother to start any brawl here.”

  I told myself that he was right. How innocuous it all seemed on the surface! Even Lucas seemed on his best behavior, in spite of his sullen demeanor, and when he danced with Luz later I could read nothing in his manner that smacked of jealousy, or even anger. We were all so civilized… it was hard to believe that I was not somewhere else; and this not an evening like any other. I missed Julio. He, at least, had been honest, both in his feelings and his dealings with me, and with the others. But Ramon had already told me that Julio had left the valley after speaking with Jesus Montoya. Being all Apache in his thinking, he would not have believed farewells necessary. Still, I wondered what had made him leave so abruptly, and wondered, at the same time, if I would ever have an answer to all the questions that I found were in my mind.

  I had some of those answers when, finally, Jesus Montoya asked me to dance with him.

  I had already danced, one by one, with the vaqueros, who held me away from them as if I was something fragile, to be handled only with the greatest respect. I had drank at least three glasses of wine—and far too fast. They were all toasting Ramon and me, and I told myself that my flushed cheeks would be put down to the dancing.

  “So, now at last it is my turn. Will you dance with me, señorita Rowena?”

  He was formal, and I was just as formal, giving him a small curtsy in acceptance.

  “You will have to guide me in the steps. I am just starting to learn them.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Shall I have Chato play a waltz? Yes, he can play even that. You have heard already, I think, how he can make the guitar come to life under his fingers.”