Golden Paradise (Vincente 1)

by Constance O'Banyon

  "Valentina, are you hurt?" Marquis asked frantically, flailing out for her in the darkness.

  "I don't think so. I just tripped. This is where the entrance caved in, and the floor is littered with debris. Be careful that you do not fall," Valentina cautioned.

  "Are you sure you are unhurt?"

  "Yes, I was no more than winded," she assured him.

  "Find me a good sized piece of wood, Valentina. I want to make a torch."

  After she felt around in the dark and found what Marquis required, she crawled over to him and pulled herself up beside him.

  "Let me have a strip of your petticoat, Valentina," he urged. He was having difficulty balancing his weight on his injured legs while he dug into his pocket for his flint.

  Valentina ripped a strip of her now tattered petticoat and handed it to Marquis. Wrapping the cotton material around the stick, he finally succeeded in lighting it.

  The darkness of the cave gave way to flickering shadows of light. Valentina stood transfixed, staring at the rock-strewn litter that stood between them and freedom. There was no way she and Marquis could dig their way out past the unmovable mountain of rock.

  Her eyes sought Marquis's, and she saw her own conclusion reflected there. "Are we to die here?" she asked in an uneven voice.

  His smile did not quite reach his eyes. "Of course not. If we are not back in a day or two, Tyree will raise a hue and cry. All we have to do is wait."

  Valentina suspected that Marquis was only trying to make her feel better. He knew, as she did, that no one would miss them for several days. By that time, it would be too late.

  Knowing it was futile to put her thoughts into words, Valentina knelt down to examine Marquis's legs in the light. Already the white rag that was wrapped around his right leg was blood soaked. She had to do something immediately to stop the bleeding.

  "Put your arm around my shoulder and allow me to help you move away from here. I need to apply a tourniquet to your wound," she said, taking the torch from him and guiding his arm about her shoulder. Beads of sweat dotted Marquis's forehead. Even though his expression was unyielding, Valentina knew he was in agonizing pain.

  Marquis accepted her help grimly, thinking it did not matter if he bled to death, died of hunger, or suffocated when the air ran out. More than likely, this would be his and Valentina's final resting place. He was astounded by her courage. Most women would be crying and carrying on by now. Her silver-blue eyes held no hint of panic in their brimming depths; they held only a sad acceptance of the situation.

  Valentina planted the torch in the soft dirt and turned her attention to Marquis. A quick examination showed that the left leg did not appear to be as seriously injured as his right one.

  "I should cut your pant leg to apply the tourniquet, Marquis."

  "No, just tie it around the upper leg, Valentina," Marquis gritted out. The pain was so acute that his head swam drunkenly.

  Valentina modestly turned around before ripping strips from her petticoat. Marquis lay with his back braced against the cavern wall while she tied a strip of material above his right thigh and tightened it to stop the flow of blood. Valentina's heart was heavy as she watched Marquis clamp his lips together so he would not cry out in pain.

  She saw the beads of sweat pop out on his forehead and knew he was in agony. After she was satisfied that the flow of blood had stopped, she sat down beside him, watching for any sign that he might be losing consciousness.

  "Why not lay your head in my lap," she suggested. "You don't have to put on a brave front for me. I can see that your legs are badly injured." She added softly. "I will make sure the torch keeps burning if you wish to sleep."

  His lips quirked into a smile. "You are something very special, Valentina Barrett. I should be taking care of you. What do you intend to keep the fire going with when you have no undergarments left to burn?" Marquis could have told her that the torch was using up precious oxygen they should be conserving for their own use, but he did not. He did not want to cause her undue distress.

  Her face eased into a frown. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't insisted on coming here to the mine, neither of us would be in this predicament. Before too long, we will be out of oxygen. Already the air feels heavy, and it's hard to breathe." Her eyes sought his. "I am truly remorseful that I involved you in my problems, Marquis."

  He reached out and clasped her hand in his. "Nonsense, Valentina. I will always want you to come to me when you need help."

  She smiled slightly. "You talk like there will be a next time. You know, as well as I, that we will never get out of here alive."

  "I know nothing of the kind. I think we should both sit as quietly as possible to conserve what little oxygen we have left. I feel help will arrive before long."

  "In the event that no one comes . . . what then?"

  He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. "In that case there is no one I would rather share the hereafter with than you, Silver Eyes."

  Looking deeply into Marquis's eyes, Valentina was startled by the warmth she saw there. "I don't suppose this will endear me to Isabel, and who can blame her."

  Marquis looked past her and focused his eyes on the torch. She could see the flame reflected in the dark depths of his eyes. "I am no longer pledged to Isabel. Even if we are rescued, she will never be my wife."

  Valentina heard the bitterness in his voice. She knew that he was having a hard time focusing his eyes and that he was on the verge of losing consciousness again. Taking his head between her hands, she pulled it down to rest against her lap.

  "Don't talk, just rest," she cautioned, moving her hand across his forehead soothingly.

  "Do you not want to hear why I am not going to marry Isabel?" he asked in a faint voice.

  Oh yes, she wanted to know, but she dared not act too interested. "It is not my concern."

  "Is it not?" His voice trailed off and his eyes fluttered closed. Feeling his uneven breath against her hand, Valentina knew he had either fallen asleep or had passed out again. The grimace on his face told Valentina that Marquis was in pain even in his sleep, and it cut into her heart. She felt anguish at the thought of his agony. No matter how gallant Marquis had been in not allowing her to take the blame, it was her fault that they were trapped in this mine—she and she alone was responsible for this disaster.

  Softly touching his face, she remembered she was carrying his child within her body. If they were going to die, should she not confess to him that she and Jordanna were one and the same? Should she tell Marquis that she was having his baby? Would it make a difference to him?

  The torch flickered low, and Valentina knew it was but a matter of time before it went out, casting them into darkness. She decided it was not important to keep the torch lit. She no longer had any fear of the dark. There was only a deep sadness that she and Marquis would die here in this hole in the ground, never to feel the sunshine on their faces again. The child that was a part of them both would never draw its first breath of life. What would happen to her mother? She was not strong. Who would take care of her?

  Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of Marquis's skin as she touched his cheek. She loved him more than her own life. She wished with all her heart that it had not been her persistence that would ultimately cause his death.

  Too weary and exhausted to think, Valentina tried to close her mind to her surroundings. She thought of the man who lay with his head in her lap and his baby that she carried within her body.

  Valentina came full awake with a start. It took her moments of staring into the blackness of hell to realize where she was. A moan escaped her lips when she remembered her hopeless situation. She did not know how long she had been asleep, but it was apparent that the air was much thinner now. It was difficult to breathe. Valentina felt as if a heavy weight were pressing on her chest.

  She groped in the darkness, trying to find Marquis, but he was not there. Terror finally overtook her reasoning. She
was going to die and Marquis wasn't with her!

  A scream was building up inside, and it came out as she yelled out his name. "Marquis!"

  "Do not panic, Silver Eyes," she heard Marquis say just beside her.

  With tears streaming down her face and sobs racking her body, she groped in his direction.

  "Do not cry, Valentina, I am here," he soothed, taking her tightly in his arms. "I would not have left you, even if I had had the chance."

  "I don't want to die," she moaned. "I have so much to live for now."

  His lips brushed her cheek, and his arms tightened like bands about her. He wished he could keep her safe—he wished she did not have to die in this dark hole—but he held out very little hope for a rescue. Valentina had been so brave until now. He cradled her head on his shoulder, wanting to protect her from anything that threatened to harm her. But how did one fight against certain death? There was no way he could protect her, so he decided to make the end as painless and easy as possible for Valentina.

  "Where were you?" she sobbed. "I awoke and couldn't find you."

  He gently stroked her face. "I was trying to dig us out." He rested his cheek against hers. "You must not give up hope. It is possible that at this very moment my men are on their way to rescue us."

  Valentina shuddered. She knew deep inside that Marquis was only trying to calm her. He knew as well as she did that help would not come in time to save them. "Shouldn't we both try to dig our way out?" she asked in a shaky voice, remembering the pile of rubble that blocked their path to freedom.

  "No, Silver Eyes. It is impossible, even for the two of us, to move all that rock. We should conserve as much energy as we can."

  He leaned back against the cold wall of the cave, clutching her to him. For long moments neither of them moved. Marquis was thinking of the nights he had longed to hold Valentina in his arms. Now he might hold her forever. This was not the way he would have planned it. Thoughts of Jordanna moved through his mind. Both she and Valentina had touched his life as no other women ever had. He had planned to take care of Jordanna and the child. If he died, what would happen to them? he wondered. Perhaps Tyree would see that she and the child were looked after.

  Valentina spoke, breaking into his thoughts. "I am sorry I got us into this, Marquis. It's all my fault."

  He pushed her tumbled hair out of her face. "I came with you to the mine because I wanted to. I am not sorry I am with you now." He smiled against her face, trying to make light of their situation. "It is true, however, that I wish we were both somewhere else at the moment."

  Valentina was silent as she digested his words. He had to be the bravest man she had ever known. He knew they were going to die, and still he tried to keep hope alive for her. Suddenly she wanted to end this pretense between them—she wanted him to know that she was Jordanna, to tell him that she was carrying his baby.

  Wiping the tears away, Valentina raised her face to his. "I have a confession to make. I don't know what you will think of me after you hear my guilty secret, but I don't want to die with this lie between us."

  He smiled, thinking he was going to hear some trivial little confession that had been weighing heavily on her soul. She was goodness and light, everything a woman should be. She could never do anything to be really ashamed of. "Do you want to tell me that you are responsible for all the gold shipment robberies that have been plaguing California lately?"

  "No. If only that were my crime. I have done something far worse than robbery. I have been untruthful and deceitful. I have been a ... I cannot say the word."

  She felt him shake with laughter. "Have you been listening to the Reverend Percival Lawton? Has he told you that your soul was blackened with sin?"

  "Marquis, this is serious and you refuse to listen to me." She could feel her shame burning her face. He thought her to be a good person. She ached inside because she was about to change his opinion of her. "I am Jo . . . Jor . . ." she began, but the words would not come. She could not bear the thought of his rejecting her because she was Jordanna, whom he considered unworthy of his love—certainly not worthy of giving life to a Vincente. All he had ever offered her was the prospect of becoming his mistress.

  "Silver Eyes, nothing you confess would make me think any less of you."

  Before she lost courage again, Valentina said, "Not even . . . not . . . even if I told you that I . . . was . . . I'm . . . going to have a . . . baby!"

  The silence that ensued was as ominous as the darkness that surrounded them. "You . . . what? I had better have misunderstood you." Valentina felt him stiffen; his hand tightened on her shoulder. He was mentally pulling away from her. He sounded every inch the Spanish grandee. What Valentina had feared had happened. Marquis had turned hard and cold. He was unapproachable. Did he hate her?

  "I do not find that a very funny jest, Valentina. As you may have guessed, I am not laughing."

  Tears now streamed down her cheeks. She forgot that she was in the bowels of hell and probably would not live more than a few more hours. She forgot that there was a world beyond the darkness where the sun shone and the birds sang.

  "This is no jest, Marquis. Are you not wise enough to understand?"

  His fingers bit into her shoulders. He shook her so hard that the pins flew out of her hair and the silky curtain came tumbling down about her face. "You were raped! I will kill the bastard who dared to touch you!" he gritted through clenched teeth. "Tell me who has committed this atrocity and I will see him dead!"

  Valentina shook her head. He had completely misunderstood her. How could he be so blind? "I wasn't raped, Marquis," she said in a dull voice.

  His grip became even tighter and more painful. "You would never allow a man to . . . no . . . damnit, no—I will never accept that. You are pure and good. You are an angel." She could hear the disbelief in his voice. In his despair he cried out, "You were raped!"

  "No, Marquis, I was not raped," she admitted again. Never had she wanted so badly to take the easy way out. She knew she would be in his arms again if she were to let him believe she had been attacked. Disregarding the lie, she gathered her courage to speak the truth. "I gave myself to the man I love. I gave myself to you."

  In Marquis's pain-stunned mind, he did not hear the words of her confession. At that very moment a battle raged inside him. The woman he had worshiped as pure and untouchable had been touched by some bastard! He silently agonized.

  Not knowing he had not understood her, not understanding the battle he fought within himself, Valentina believed he was rejecting her and his baby.

  She could not see the pain that filled his eyes. Even though Marquis reeled from confusion, he suddenly realized the truth of Tyree's words. He had fallen in love for the first time in his life and it felt like hell. Tyree would be pleased if he knew. Always before Marquis had used women, but now he found himself wanting to hold and love this woman. She was precious to him, and it ripped him apart to know that another man had held her in his arms and had loved her as he had dreamed of doing. He wanted to tear the child from her body and remove the memory of the man who had planted that child in her.

  Marquis could feel the fever building in his mind. The pain ripped through his body and he knew he wasn't thinking clearly. He only knew that he wanted Valentina. "If we get out of this alive, you will marry me. I will give your child a name."

  She choked on a sob. He wasn't making any sense. Couldn't he understand that she was telling him he was the father of her child? Couldn't he draw the conclusion that she was Jordanna? "Even if we do escape from here, Marquis, I will not marry you. Neither me nor my baby are your responsibility." Hurt made her add, "You must have many bastard children running around California."

  He grabbed her and pressed her tightly against him, almost crying out from the pain in his legs. Anger was coiled in his stomach like a snake ready to strike. "Damn you, do not ever say that! I will not hear such harshness coming from your lips."

  She had come too close to the truth. In h
is fever-tortured mind, he remembered Jordanna—Jordanna, who stole men's hearts while she danced; Jordanna, who was going to have his child. There was no doubt in his mind that it was his baby Jordanna carried. If he and Valentina got out of this alive, he would do the right thing by Jordanna; he would take care of her needs and see that she had money. But he would marry Valentina. Suddenly a troubling thought came to him. What if the man who had fathered Valentina's baby wanted to marry her?

  "Does the father know about the baby, Valentina?"

  It was getting harder to breathe all the time and Valentina took in a shallow breath. "Yes, he knows," Valentina choked out.

  "Will he marry you?"

  "No."

  "Then, like I said, you will marry me. Forget about the other man. I will hear no argument against my proposal." Inside he was shaking. Dear God, he would have Valentina for his own. She would belong to him and no one else. That thought swept through him like a cleansing breath of air. Yes, he had the solution to his problems. It was so simple. He would marry Valentina, whom he loved, and take care of Jordanna, whom he desired.

  Valentina knew in that moment that her pride would never allow her to admit that she was Jordanna. She would die with the lie on her lips, and pain in her heart.

  "No, Marquis. I will never marry you."

  His arms tightened around her. "Yes, by God, you will. You will be my wife!"

  "Are you not shocked by my wanton behavior?" she taunted with tears washing down her cheeks. He must think she was being ungracious by not accepting his sacrifice, she reflected. He couldn't know he was tearing her apart inside. "I know all about your aristocratic race. You think you have the God-given right to populate the country with your seed."

  Her barb had hit too close to home and Marquis shifted uncomfortably. "Even if I did have a bastard child on the way, unlike the man who planted his seed in you, I would offer to take care of the child's future."