“They were both still asleep when I arrived. Pablo told me where you were.”
Sorina wanted to jump and dance as they strolled back to the compound. He filled her in during the walk on what he’d learned about the progress of the war. Now that Uncle Gabriel was back, she could concentrate on Grainger. She must see him. She was sure she could convince Isabella to go with her to town.
“Are you hungry? I’ll go straight to the kitchens to tell them to make your favorite dishes. You can sit in the parlor with Isabella. I’ll be right back.” Sorina peeked inside the sala to see if her friend was within. She shook her head and widened the door. “Isabella isn’t here. Please, Uncle, go in and wait for me. I’ll bring you coffee and sweetbread and you can tell me everything that happened here while I was in England.”
“You go along. I want to see if Father is awake.”
“Will you come back? I have much to discuss about my own adventures.”
“And misadventures?” His wicked smile made her remember how all the unmarried women tried to gain his attention. Her handsome uncle had been much admired by the females of their society.
“Those, too.”
“Then I’ll join you in the dining room later.” He tugged on a strand of her hair and strode off toward Grandfather’s room. His arrival must have been early. He didn’t look like he’d been traveling all night, but the fact that he had the shadow of a beard made her wonder.
Rounding a corner of the hacienda, she came upon Isabella, looking like a spring flower in yellow muslin with a full skirt, fitted bodice and long-sleeved jaconet. Her hair was braided and crisscrossed on top of her head. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
“I went to the cliffs to stare out at the sea. It . . . it calms me.”
“I daresay. You have been far too emotional. Not that I blame you. After what you’ve been through, you’re allowed a few tears.” Isabella’s eyes softened. “You’ve been crying again, haven’t you?”
“Yes, but I feel much better now. Did I tell you? Uncle Gabriel is here. He found me out at the cliffs.” Her excitement was almost palpable, and she couldn’t hide it one moment longer from her friend.
Isabella seemed to droop, as if a dark cloud suddenly hid the sun.
“What’s wrong?” Surely she hadn’t believed the lies Santoro had spread about her uncle. “My uncle did not do the horrible things he was accused of doing. You know that, don’t you?”
Isabella seemed to shake off the cloud and smiled. “Of course not. Your uncle is an hombre . . . a man’s man. I never believed the charges against him.”
“You worried me for a moment.” Sorina laughed, grabbed her friend’s hands, and twirled her in a circle. “I am so happy now. I am suddenly full of hope.”
She dropped Isabella’s hands. “I’m on my way to the kitchen. Uncle is with Grandfather. We’ll be having our breakfast soon.”
“Then I’ll go straight to the office and have a look at those account books you told me about yesterday, the ones for your father’s property.”
“They’re stacked on the desk.”
Isabella dashed off. When Sorina left California for England, she was fourteen years old. Isabella was unmarried and Uncle Gabriel was her friend. Had there been bad blood between the two? If so, she hadn’t noticed. Her grief for her parents had not yet subsided.
Shaking off her puzzlement, Sorina finished her errand in the kitchen, stopped by Tía Consuelo’s room to bring her a tray and give her the good news. Hunger, held at bay for far too long, gnawed at her stomach.
Smells of cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee met her when she opened the door to the dining room. Isabella was already there with an impressive stack of papers next to her plate. Uncle Gabriel must still be with Grandfather.
“What do you have there?” Sorina went straight to the sideboard and filled her plate.
“Documents for you to look over. There’s one for you to sign, relating to the transfer of your father’s property to you, his heir.”
Sorina devoured her breakfast, not caring if she was being unladylike. “I didn’t see that one. Where was it?”
“Stuck between the pages of the most recent account book. Your grandfather was always very meticulous in his record-keeping, but it seems he had neglected it of late. Will you be handling his affairs until he regains his health?”
“Actually, no,” Sorina said between mouthfuls. “I will turn all that over to Uncle Gabriel now.”
Isabella picked up her cup and stared at the handle. “Is he staying then? I thought he might be returning to . . . wherever he was.”
“Yes. The charges against him were crimes Santoro committed. With Santoro dead and the corrupt Mexican authorities gone, it is now safe for him to come out of hiding.” Sorina picked up a forkful of eggs with chorizo. “Santoro bribed the officials, did you know that?”
Isabella bit into her sweet roll and put it down on her plate. “I’m not surprised. Some of us knew Antoine Santoro was not what he pretended to be. Unfortunately, he fooled many.”
Sorina watched her friend move food around her plate, as if lost in thought.
“Is there anything left?” Gabriel sauntered in, filled his plate, and sat next to Sorina. He grinned as he lifted his fork and liberated a piece of pork from her plate. “Surely a delicate flower such as yourself shouldn’t eat all this food. I want to fight off suitors for your hand, not pay them a mordida to court you, Sorina.”
“Hello to you too, Gabriel.” Isabella glared from across the table, shaking her head at his antics. “I see you still have a way with words.”
Gabriel shrugged and smiled into his plate. “I didn’t know you were going to be here. When did you arrive?”
“A few weeks ago. Sorina needed me. I came.”
“Of course. Ever the Good Samaritan.”
Isabella bristled and started to say something, then stopped. Raising her cup to her lips she sipped her morning coffee.
Sorina watched the interplay with interest. Something was amiss between the two, but she was at a loss to know what it was.
“Isabella has been helping me sort through grandfather’s business papers. He has not been seeing to business since my departure.”
“Ah yes, the very dependable, capable Isabella. A paragon of business sense. Practical, amiable, and let’s not forget beautiful.”
Why was he taunting her friend?
He’d known her all his life. Isabella, a few years older than Sorina, had grown up on a ranch south of San Juan Capistrano. Sorina was puzzled by this exchange, but she would not let it deter her from her main objective this morning. Clearing her throat, she stood. Two pairs of eyes turned to look at her.
“I must go to Los Angeles immediately. Which of you is willing to accompany me?”
“Why do you wish to go there, Moppet? I just this moment arrived. We have much to discuss.” Uncle Gabriel was all business, a question in his eyes.
Ignoring her uncle, she pleaded with her friend. “Isabella?”
Her friend swallowed, glared at Uncle Gabriel, and smiled up at Sorina. “Of course I will go with you. When can we leave? I shall return to my room and pack now.”
“You’re willing to go today?”
Isabella stole a glance at Gabriel and rose from her chair. “The sooner, the better.”
Chapter 40
Sorina brushed dust from her clothes as the coach carrying her and Isabella slowed almost to a halt near the Plaza Church. The Americans had taken control of Los Angeles, but the destiny of the pueblo was far from settled.
A herd of sheep blocked the road, but soon moved away allowing them to proceed. Their destination was the Union Hotel, the only place still open and likely to have accommodations. Sorina had stayed there once with her grandfather and
the hotel’s lavish appointments were too pricey for most travelers.
She had hoped to stay with Arcadia and quiz her husband for details about Grainger’s status. But with the town teeming with political unrest, Stearns had taken his wife to visit her parents in San Diego and their home was locked up tight to prevent looting in the event Mexican rebels took back the pueblo.
Thank God, Santoro would not be among them.
Isabella dozed on the seat across from her. Sorina found she was too agitated to sleep. She still couldn’t believe her friend had agreed to accompany her, but was gratified. There was no time to lose.
And I must see him.
Convincing Uncle Gabriel had been more difficult. He’d sat her down in the parlor, his arms folded like a stern parent, demanding the entire story of her escape, her search, the kidnapping and rescue. She’d left out the personal details of her relationship with Grainger, but convinced him she needed to take the paper she’d signed to the authorities and to provide moral support to the man who had saved her.
It was the only way he’d let her go.
He’d scowled, paced, and in the end had allowed the visit, as long as Isabella, their two maids, and four outriders accompanied their coach. One would be Pablo. He would keep her out of trouble.
Rumors abounded that rebels were planning something and civilian safety could be jeopardized. Only his father’s illness had kept Uncle Gabriel at the ranch. Grandfather had suffered a pain in his chest that kept his breathing shallow and his pulse weak. Sorina nearly remained herself.
But Grainger’s pull was stronger.
The coach arrived at the hotel and Pablo went in to secure their room. Sorina gently shook Isabella. “We’re here.”
“So soon?” It was a joke. The roads were rutted and unfenced animals caused numerous delays. The forty-mile journey had taken all day. Isabella sat up, stretched, and rummaged in her reticule for a biscuit, a remnant of their lunch.
“I’m glad you still have your sense of humor.” Sorina scowled and peered out the window. Dusk softened the appearance of the immense two-story stone building with its classic Grecian architecture, built by one of the Americans living in Los Angles when still under Mexican rule.
The door opened abruptly and Pablo held out his hand. “All is in order. A suite has been secured. I will see to the luggage.”
Sorina alighted first. Brushing dust from her skirt, she turned to wait for Isabella. Together they went into the lobby. A chandelier with brilliant crystals reflecting light from a dozen candles greeted them, illuminating the red velvet curtains on the windows, and the gleaming oak paneling on the walls. The smell of lemon wax and leather vied with the floral scent coming from large bouquets of pink Castilian roses scattered throughout the room.
“Is this new? I’ve never stayed here.” Isabella surveyed the room as she adjusted her shawl. “It’s quite grand.”
“It’s clean. That’s all I care about.” A servant guided them to a double curving staircase of polished wood. They took the stairs on the right that led up to the second floor. At the end of the hallway, a double door stood open, leading into their private sitting room. Sorina breezed through to her bedroom where Maria was already unpacking.
“There’s a pot of tea and fresh bread. I’m famished, aren’t you?” Isabella’s disembodied voice reached Sorina as she peeled off her traveling clothes. As instructed, Maria had an unadorned black dress laid out on the bed with a shabby, black, hooded cloak.
“You go ahead. I’m not hungry,” she called. Isabella would not be happy when she discovered she was gone, but Sorina was anxious to see Grainger. Putting on the ill-fitting garments, she stood in front of a long oval mirror and made sure her braids were securely fastened on top of her head. Maria nodded and went into the sitting room toward Isabella.
“Come, my lady. You must rest. Señorita Sorina has ordered dinner to be sent up on trays later. You both missed your siestas today.”
“She’s abed already? I’m surprised. Very well. Lead the way.” Isabella took another swallow of tea and followed Maria into her own bedroom.
Once the door closed, Sorina darted out and strolled toward the stairs. Keeping her head low she went out into the street and hurried along the packed earth walkway. The military had taken over a home owned by the Avila family. Pablo had discovered Grainger was confined to quarters in a building occupied by officers. The building had a room for dining. He’d made arrangements for her to meet him there.
~ ~ ~
Lance Grainger peered through the window at the activity in the courtyard. Something was amiss. Troops had been drilling all day and a succession of cannons and rifles had been stacked in strategic locations, as if they were expecting a raid.
A door opened, and Grainger turned around. He’d been told his sister had asked to visit him. Grainger didn’t have a sister. It could only be one person.
The sergeant came in, holding the door for a woman in a voluminous cloak, her face and head covered.
His chest filled with held breath as she dropped the hood and stood in front of him. Her eyes searched his face and her lips were unsmiling.
“Hello, Sorina.” Is that all he could say? Here was the woman who had saved him from hanging, who fought beside him, who moaned beneath him as he pleasured her. Here was the woman he loved. But he didn’t know if she was here to curse him or kiss him.
He took three steps to where she stood, reached out and brought her mouth to his. Their tongues joined in a searing kiss that made him sigh with relief. She whimpered as he inched back so he could stroke her face and drink in her features. It might be the last time he would see her if he was sent away.
“How are you faring?” Her voice was soft and she touched his shoulder as she spoke, a soft smile on her face. He could look at her forever. She was so beautiful, so pure of heart.
Would she still want him if he was disgraced? Would he dare propose to her with no prospects of his own?
Aware of footsteps outside the door, she drew back and sat on a stool, taking a lace handkerchief out of her sleeve.
“What progress has been made finding Mitchell?” she asked.
Ever practical, his Sorina. Grainger perched on the edge of the table nearby and gave her the short version of Sutherland’s search. She nodded from time to time, her head bent in worry, her shoulders slumped. God how he ached to hold her, to bury his face in her glorious hair and breathe in her scent. They’d had so little time.
“What about you? Did your grandfather come with you?” He glanced toward the door. “I’m surprised he let you come here by yourself. And doubly surprised he allowed you to make up that story about being my . . .” Grainger jumped to his feet and glared. “You didn’t come alone, did you? Tell me you had more sense than that.”
She looked up, but then cast her eyes downward. Grainger nearly exploded.
“Sorina. Tell me someone is with you. Don’t you know how dangerous it is out there? The troops have been preparing all day. They expect an invasion.”
“Santoro is dead.”
“I know. I heard.” He watched her face and saw nothing but a bland expression, like Santoro had been an acquaintance, not a person who had nearly beaten her into submission, for what? Money, power, leverage? Given Santoro’s reputation, he would never know which.
“His wound must have been mortal.”
“I thought so at the time. Does your grandfather know? Did you tell him about the marriage?”
“My grandfather only knows Santoro, his neighbor, is dead. He does not know details of his demise, but he knows now how wrong he was about him.” Her voice caught and she reached out. Grainger took her hand. It was cold and trembling. “Grandfather is ill. Uncle Gabriel has returned and is caring for him.”
“He let you come here . . . to me?”
“Grandfather . . . no. Uncle Gabriel agreed as long as I took Isabella and several outriders. I don’t think he realizes the extent of the danger. And no one, not even Isabella, knows about the marriage.”
He raised her hand to his lips and gave it a squeeze. “You are very brave, my darling. But don’t be foolish. There’s nothing you can do. Please go back home right away. I don’t want you in danger.”
“They told me not to stay long.”
He smiled, a broad grin straight from his heart. “You are a wonder, my love.” His voice lowered and he leaned forward again, pulling her up so he could kiss her. She lifted her head, offering her mouth. Her soft lips opened eagerly beneath his and he kissed her open-mouthed and tightened his hold as longing engulfed him.
He released her. “Go now. I don’t want anyone to see me kissing you.”
Sorina nodded. “I will come back tomorrow.”
“No, you will not. Promise me you will leave tomorrow at first light.”
“But—”
“You must do this for me, Sorina. Obey my request.”
She looked up at him with bright eyes and touched his cheek.
“I will. If it will ease you.”
“Thank you.”
“I love you, Lance Grainger. I will never love another.”
She turned and left the room.
Chapter 41
Hard wooden slats pressed into Sorina’s back, reminding her she’d sat rigidly in the chair for over an hour. Her hands clenched and unclenched in the folds of her skirt. Thankfully, Isabella was still asleep.
She blessed the silence of the room. She needed to think.
This can’t be the end. Surely, there is something I can do.
Shadow of the Fox Page 27