Later, when Marquis entered the hotel room where he would spend what was left of the night, he was overcome by guilt. After all, he had been the first man to bed Jordanna. There was no doubt that the child was his. He felt a moral obligation to Jordanna and the child, and he would see that they wanted for nothing. But he would not be forced into marriage. Dear God, he cried inwardly, hadn't he just extricated himself from marriage with Isabel? Why would he want to marry a woman whose face he had never seen? No longer wanting to be involved with Jordanna, he would let Tyree handle the transaction between them as discreetly as possible.
He lay down on the bed, pleased with himself and the simple solution. As soon as he returned to town, he would tie together all the loose ends of his life.
Closing his eyes, Marquis could see Jordanna whirling gracefully around the stage. Her beauty had touched his heart. In some strange way, he ached because she would never belong to him. Opening his eyes, Marquis listened to the sounds rising from the street below; San Francisco was alive, even at this late hour.
Marquis was thinking of the two extraordinary ladies who had touched his life. There was Jordanna, who had stirred his blood, and Valentina, who had stolen his heart.
He was now free to offer Valentina his name. She had an undeniably fine background, whereas Jordanna— who would bear his child—could never marry into his family.
Why could he not make Tyree see that he owed it to his family to marry well. His mind was tortured. Jordanna may have been a saloon dancer, but she had been untouched when he had taken her—she was an enigma. He tried to remind himself that a Vincente could never marry beneath him. Even if Jordanna had his baby, he could never recognize her or the child, and that thought continued to haunt him.
18
The morning mist hung heavily in the air, shrouding the land, making it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. Valentina glanced out the window. She could hear horses neighing and assumed Tyree had arrived.
"He's here, Salamar. I have to go."
"I still feel this thing is not right, Valentina. Do not go," Salamar pleaded.
"I must, Salamar. I promise I will be careful. You know Tyree will take care of me."
"What will I say if your mother asks where you are?"
"In the state she's in, I doubt she will notice. If she does, tell her I am searching for Father."
Kissing Salamar on the cheek, Valentina moved quickly across the room and dashed out the front door, fearing she might change her mind. Her nerves were unsettled because of Salamar's warning. It would take very little persuasion on Salamar's part to make her give up the venture. Yet Valentina knew this might be her last hope of finding out about her father.
There was a chill in the air and she was glad for the long sleeves on her wine-colored riding habit. As she rushed along the path that led to the road, she saw a man standing beside two horses. Since the mist was so heavy, she could not see him very well, and not wanting to attract the attention of Reverend Lawton and his sister, she did not call out a greeting until she was near him.
"Good morning, Tyree. I hope I didn't keep you waiting."
Marquis swung around to face Valentina in time to see the shock that registered on her face.
"What are you doing here? I was expecting Tyree," she gasped out past the lump in her throat.
"Tyree was unexpectedly detained. He asked if I would extend his regrets to you and he hopes you will accept me as his substitute."
Valentina felt her stomach muscles tighten and a wild excitement rush hotly through her veins. "I . . . don't know. I wouldn't want to impose—"
"You did not seem to feel it was an imposition for Tyree—why should you think it would be for me?"
"I don't know you as well as I know Tyree," she replied lamely.
A guarded look moved over Marquis's face. "Do you know Tyree so well?"
"I . . . not all that well," she stuttered, feeling like a young schoolgirl. Her mind was in a whirl and she wished she dared turn and walk away, but she stood rooted to the spot, listening to the pounding of her heart.
"You should have known I would take you to your father's mine if you wanted to go. Did you not know I would never allow you to go alone? I warned you that your father's partner is a dangerous man."
"I wasn't going alone. Tyree was going with me," she reminded him.
Without another word, Marquis placed his hands around Valentina's waist, lifting her onto the back of the sorrel mare. Turning away in grim silence, he mounted his own horse.
As they rode away, neither of them saw the face pressed against the window watching them. Percival Lawton stared resentfully after the two on horseback. Miss Valentina Barrett was not as good as she would have people believe. She was beginning to show her true colors with all the men hanging around her like dogs in heat. She was not the prim and proper miss she pretended to be. Envy and anguish burned in Percival's heart. He wanted Valentina for himself, but he wanted her pure, virginal. He had decided that he would keep a close watch on Valentina's activities. He had learned only yesterday that the widow, Mrs. Windom, for whom Valentina claimed she worked, had died three weeks earlier. That left him to wonder where Valentina went each afternoon when she claimed to be going off to work. He would soon find out how she still managed to have money after her former employer's demise.
After Marquis and Valentina had ridden hard all morning, he called a halt to rest the horses. They were now in the mountains and had left the heavy mist far below them. The bright sun promised a warm, golden afternoon.
Valentina took a drink from the canteen and watched Marquis move up the steep incline. His body was hard and muscled, and he moved with an easy grace, each step announced by the jingling of his spurs. There was something almost primitive in the way he stood with his legs apart, his hands resting on his hips, as he stared across to the next valley.
Suddenly, without warning, he swung around to look at her, and Valentina felt her breathing cease. His dark eyes moved across her face, almost questioningly.
When he looked away, she felt as if he were seeking something in her, but what?
Valentina did not look up as he rejoined her, until his shadow fell across her face. His hand was extended to her, and she placed hers in its grasp. With strong fingers, he helped her to her feet.
"Do you feel up to riding on now?" he asked.
He was so near that she could see the beads of sweat on his upper lip. Wildly, her heart beat against her ribs, reminding her of the night she had lain in this man's arms and he had taken her to heights of glory. "Yes," she managed to say. "I am ready to continue."
Just before sundown, Marquis halted his horse. Looking around, Valentina discovered that they had arrived at the spot where she and Santiago had made camp the last time she had been in these mountains.
Silently, Marquis tended to the horses while Valentina moved about gathering wood for a fire.
The tension mounted during the meal of beans and dried beef. Valentina could feel Marquis staring at her, pulling her to him. Steeling herself against his magnetism, she tried to remember why she was here. She had come to find some clue about her father and nothing must deter her from her course. She could sense in Marquis a deep brooding. Was he thinking about the lovely Isabel? she wondered.
Finally she could stand the silence no longer. Standing up, she moved away from the campfire to where her bedroll had been spread beneath the wide branches of a tall oak tree. Without a word, Valentina sat down, removed her boots, then slipped beneath the blanket.
Drawing in a deep breath, she filled her lungs with fresh, cleansing air. The moon played hide-and-seek between the branches of the tree as her mind went to the man who filled her heart with love. Marquis could not know that at this very moment she was carrying his baby, and Valentina could not understand why Marquis was helping her. Why had he decided to take her to the mine instead of Tyree?
Hearing a twig snap, Valentina watched Marquis move to his bedroll and sit down. Sh
e noticed the rifle he placed close at hand. As the silvery moon touched his dark face, he turned to look at her.
"Sleep unafraid, Silver Eyes; nothing will harm you tonight."
The next morning their luck held. A bright sun chased rain clouds away, leaving a brilliant blue sky. As they had the day before, they rode hard.
Valentina appreciated the fine horseflesh, knowing the animals they rode had been bred for their endurance. She had never seen finer horses anywhere. When they stopped to rest, Valentina turned to Marquis. "Where did you ever find these horses? They are extraordinary. Most horses would never have kept up the steady pace we have been setting."
Marquis seemed preoccupied and answered her in a sharp tone. "They were raised on Paraiso del Norte." Seeing the hurt in Valentina's eyes, he explained more kindly. "They are a special breed that owe their origin to my grandfather's genius in crossbreeding. They are his greatest pride and joy."
Valentina could have said that Marquis, himself, was most probably Don Alonso's greatest pride and joy, but she did not. Instead she asked, "Is it much farther to my father's mine?"
"No."
"Will we be there before sunset?"
Marquis tightened the girth on his horse and answered without looking at Valentina, "Yes."
Valentina drew a breath in vexation. If Marquis was going to answer in monosyllables, she would not waste her time talking to him at all. What right did he have treating her so high-handedly? She had not done anything wrong . . . unless . . . unless he knew that she was Jordanna!
Walking around her horse, she decided to find out. But when Marquis turned his dark eyes on her, she felt the words she was about to speak stick in her throat.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
"No."
"Are you ready to go on, or do you need to rest a bit longer?"
Taking her courage in hand, she spoke. "I am not tired, but I want to ask you something."
He uncapped the canteen and handed it to her. "I am listening."
"I . . . you seem to be put out with me, and I don't understand why. Have I done something to make you angry?”
His dark eyes softened as they swept her face. Taking a step toward her, he shook his head. "I cannot think of anything you could ever do to make me angry with you, Valentina. I am angry, but not with you—with myself. I have done some things lately that I am not very proud of. I suppose I am riddled with guilt."
Valentina caught the troubled expression in his dark eyes and wondered what could be bothering him. "Are you sure you aren't angry with me?" she pressed, hoping she was not the reason for his guilt. But no, she told herself, he could not know about the baby, no more than he could know that she was Jordanna.
He smiled and softly touched her cheek. "Yes, very sure. You would not know about the jealousy that can burn in a man's heart when he cannot have the woman he wants. You cannot guess what demons haunt a man when he sees that woman with another man, knowing he has no right to object."
Valentina blinked her eyes, glancing across the valley. Why would Marquis tell her about his love for another woman? He could not know that hearing about his love for someone else ripped her heart apart. "I'm sorry," she said for want of a better reply.
"Are you?"
"Yes, of course."
Marquis looked as if he would like to say more, but he clamped his lips tightly together. Reaching for Valentina, he hoisted her into the air, set her on the horse, and soon they were making slow progress up the steep mountainside.
Long after they left the valley behind, Marquis's words stayed with Valentina. Glancing over at Marquis, Valentina wondered again why he was the one who had come with her in Tyree's place. Was this a ploy of Tyree's to try to get them together? If it was, it would never work.
Valentina looked quickly away when Marquis glanced at her. As the trail narrowed, he moved ahead of her and called back, "Stay close to the face of the cliff and do not look down."
The words had no sooner left his mouth than she did just what he had warned against and glanced below. Her stomach tightened into knots, and she felt her head swimming dizzily. Fastening her eyes on Marquis's back, she did not again look down.
It was almost sundown when they rode up to the mine entrance. Marquis unhooked the flap on his holster so he would have easy access to his gun. Scanning the area, he finally dismounted and walked over to Valentina. He circled her waist with strong hands and lifted her to the ground.
"The place seems to be deserted," Marquis observed, glancing beyond the mine to the cabin that stood some hundred yards away. "If I were to guess, I would say your father's partner left soon after my last visit."
Valentina looked toward the cabin. "I had hoped Mr. Udell would be here so I could question him." '
"I do not think the man knows how to tell the truth. I believed him when he said your father had been shanghaied. Apparently he lied about that."
"What do we do now?" Valentina asked, looking about her with an air of hopelessness. "Now that I am here, I no longer know what steps to take."
Marquis unfastened his saddlebag and a large leather satchel, then slung them over his shoulder. "I would suggest that you bring your bedroll so we can make ourselves as comfortable as possible in that cabin." He nodded skyward. "From the looks of those clouds, it appears it might rain during the night. In the morning we will start back to San Francisco."
Valentina loosened the straps on her bedroll, gathered it in her arms, and followed Marquis toward the cabin. Passing the entrance of the mine, she paused and stared into its dark recesses. A shiver ran the length of her spine, and she remembered Salamar's grim prediction. Hurrying her pace, she caught up with Marquis.
"I want to go into the mine tomorrow," she stated, more to herself than to Marquis. "Perhaps there will be a clue to my father's disappearance there."
"I do not believe you will find anything. I went into the mine with Mr. Udell but found nothing."
She looked into his face and saw the smile that curved his lips. "It was a good thing that I was suspicious of him or I might never have come out alive."
"You aren't saying that he tried to . . . that he—"
"That is exactly what I am saying. Mr. Udell took an instant dislike to my questions about your father."
They had entered the cabin, and Valentina set down her bedroll on the dirt floor. "If Mr. Udell is that unscrupulous, he could have harmed my father. I am going into that mine tomorrow, and you can't stop me. I want to know for certain if my father . . . died here, or if I have reason to go on searching for him."
Marquis turned his attention to the open hearth. "I will find wood to build a fire."
"I'll help you," Valentina volunteered, not wanting to be left alone. The sun had already dropped behind the mountain, and the cabin was bathed in an eerie light.
"No, you can spread our bedrolls before the fire. I will be back before you know it, and I will cook you a meal tonight that you will never forget."
For long moments they stood gazing into each other's eyes. Valentina forgot Jordanna's grievances against Marquis. All hurts and disappointments faded away and she felt her knees go weak at the softness in his eyes. Finally, when she thought she could stand it no longer, he turned and went out the door, leaving Valentina staring after him.
Going down on her knees, she spread out his bedroll, then moved across the room and unrolled hers. What was this strange magic that Marquis wove about her? All he had to do was look at her and she fell apart on the inside. Her hand stole up to her stomach, which was still flat and firm. For the first time, she thought of the baby she was carrying as a real person. Would her child have flashing brown eyes like Marquis's, eyes that could soften to velvet in an instant? Pushing her troubled thoughts aside, she sat down on her bedroll, hugging her legs to her, waiting for Marquis's return.
Moments later, Marquis entered the cabin carrying an armload of wood. Dropping down on his knees, he soon had a fire blazing in the hearth, which helped considera
bly to dispell the dreariness of the cabin. Valentina moved closer and watched with interest while Marquis took an iron pan and dropped some kind of flat bread into it. In another pan he heated a quantity of dark-colored beans. Once the bread was steaming, he removed it, placing it on tin plates. Spreading the warmed beans over the top, he sprinkled them with ground peppers, dried tomatoes, and slices of cheese. He then rolled one up and handed it to Valentina.
She bit into the bean roll and smiled with delight at the taste of melted cheese and spices. "This is delicious," she declared. "What is it?"
"I was taught to make these by an Indian from Texas who now works for me. He called them frijoles tortillas. He would be delighted to know that a lovely lady approves of his secret recipe. Mine has hot peppers on it, but I did not think you would want yours hot. I was careful to bring the mild chilies for you."
Valentina could not help but be pleased that Marquis would take such care about her food. "I once tried a hot pepper in India. I found the taste wonderful, but I never became accustomed to it burning my mouth."
"I believe one has to be born eating hot chilies to be able to endure the pain. It is hard to understand why most gringos find chilies hot. I have never felt the burning that your race speaks about."
"Marquis, you have a wonderful command of the English language. Did you learn to speak it from Tyree?"
He chuckled. "That, among other things, I learned from Tyree. He is the best friend I have. Did you know that?"
"Yes, I thought as much."
"My grandfather insists that I speak in English as much as possible. He believes the Spaniards who do not look to the future will die with the past."
"He may be right," Valentina agreed sadly. "What a pity."
When Marquis turned away to eat, Valentina allowed her eyes to roam hungrily over his body. How she had missed seeing him. If he were to discover how much she loved him, he would be shocked. But if he were to find out about the baby, he probably would never want to see her again.
Golden Paradise (Vincente 1) Page 23