Surrender by Moonlight

  "He is not available right now," the maid murmured. "Breakfast will be ready in the dining room as soon as you wish it. I'll fetch those clothes."

  "What is your name?" If she was going to be sequestered here for a time, she needed to be able to refer to the girl by name.

  "Maria, senorita," said the girl as she bustled out of the room.

  Leonor drank the chocolate, feeling its warmth reviving her. She looked curiously through the clothes Maria brought, wondering how Dimitri had acquired them. They were hers, that much she knew. They must have persuaded Paquita to collect them. She washed and dressed, then stepped out in the hall. Cesar was there, waiting for her. Leonor looked at him, surprised.

  ''Good morning, senorita. Would you prefer breakfast downstairs or in your room?"

  She had spent enough time in that room, locked in for hours last night. "Downstairs. Cesar—" she began.

  "This way, then." Before she could ask any more questions, he had led the way down the wide stairs to the dining room. A place was set on the gleaming table and Leonor allowed him to seat her. She picked up the folded paper by the plate, glancing questioningly at Cesar as she did so.

  "From Don Dimitri," he answered her unspoken question. "I will be outside the door, senorita, if you wish anything. Maria will bring your breakfast." Cesar escaped into the hall before she could read the note and vent her wrath on him.

  "Dear Leonor," the note said, in Dimitri's bold handwriting. "I have been called away on business. I will be back by tomorrow. I have given Cesar the charge of guarding you in my absence and he has my orders. Your safety is his concern so please do as he says. I trust you will have made a decision by the time I return. Dimitri."

  Leonor flung open the dining room door and pinned Cesar with a fierce gaze. "Is Sergei here?"

  "He went with Don Dimitri," Cesar admitted, eyeing her stormy face warily.

  "Where have they gone? What business called them away?"

  "I do not know, senorita. He did not tell me."

  She glared at him. "How could he go off without a word? When did he leave?"

  "Two hours ago. We have the house well guarded," he said, hoping that information would soothe her. "So you do not need to worry."

  "What orders do you have about me?" Leonor crushed the note in her hand and resisted the impulse to fling it to the floor and stamp on it. "What did he tell you to do?"

  "I am to guard you," Cesar admitted unhappily. "You are not allowed to leave the house, I'm afraid. You may stay in the sala or in your room, senorita, but I must be near."

  "I see," she said coldly, feeling childish for being angry with Cesar; but the one with whom she was angry was out of reach. "I will sit in the sala after I eat breakfast." Her outrage was so strong she could scarcely talk and barely tasted the delicious breakfast of eggs, freshly baked bread and figs that the concerned maid served her. After that she stalked to the sala and spent a maddening half hour pacing the room. Cesar had drawn the red velvet draperies over the long windows so that no one could get the slightest glimpse of her. She ordered the candles lit and flung herself into a chair and tried to think.

  There were guards everywhere. Cesar sat stiffly on a chair just inside the sala door, watching her uneasily. Outside in the hall was another guard and she had seen men with rifles scattered across the front lawn, men with grim, purposeful faces. There was no way she could leave and where would she go if she did?

  As for Dimitri . . . tears came into her eyes when she thought of him. Last night had shown her with shattering clarity that, however he felt about her, she was deeply, passionately in love with him. She had given herself to him with utter abandon, making no attempt to hide her passionate need for him. And he had answered that need with one of his own. She had not forgotten his searing hunger as he shattered her defenses and made her his. Could a man feel that depth of need and not also have love? Leonor did not know. She was acutely, painfully aware of her inexperience with men and her complete lack of knowledge. Yet he had left her this morning without a word, just a curt note telling her to behave herself and obey Cesar. What business could be so pressing as to take him from her now, when she needed his protection, when he should want to be with her, if he felt any of that love that now burned so hotly in her?

  And the decision he expected her to make?

  Was there any choice open to her now? He was the only man she knew who could successfully stand between her and her stepfather's machinations. And, she admitted to herself, even if there had been another man who could do that, the thought of marrying someone else, sharing another man's bed, bearing his children . . . she shuddered. She could not endure that. She had given her heart to Dimitri, whether he wanted it or not, and she could never let another man take his place. But he did not love her, her heart cried out in anguish. Could she live with that? Day after day, be his wife, bear his heirs, knowing how deeply she loved him and that he was no more than fond of her? Sobs shook her at the thought and she turned her back, unwilling to allow Cesar to see her cry. Life without Dimitri would be barren, without meaning. But would life with him, without love, with only a physical need for her, be enough? Could she accept him on those terms? Leonor wrestled with her pain, seeking the answer to the anguished question of whether her love was strong enough to suffice for both of them.

  Dimitri met the steady gaze of Captain Pokovich and slid a sealed letter across the table. The inn was quiet this time of day; only the innkeeper shared the room with them. It was siesta time in the village and an air of heavy somnolence hung over the empty streets. "The report for the Czar," Dimitri said quietly.

  The captain picked up the letter and fingered it curiously. "Would it be impertinent to ask what it says? He is sure to question me, my lord, about whatever you wrote in it."

  "Not impertinent, no. I'm quite willing to tell you once you answer a few questions of mine. What is the situation in Mexico? We have been awaiting word for months and the news has not yet come."

  The captain put down his tankard of lukewarm ale and nodded. "It is settled. The Spanish Viceroy has accepted Iturbide's plan."

  "So," Dimitri said thoughtfully, "Mexico has won their war and is independent?"

  "They are indeed. How will California go, my lord? That is the question the Czar will ask."

  "I have told him in the letter that if Mexico wins independence, it is my belief that California will go with her. There is an overwhelming sentiment here for freedom from Spain's tyranny. There is the tradition of close ties with Mexico, ties that bind tighter than the tenuous threads to Spain. The dons here in the south are convinced of that and, from all I can learn, the northern areas share it. California cannot prosper under Spain's continued rule and they know it. I have also told the Czar," Dimitri said firmly, "that any attempt of interference by Russia would be met with violence. Mexico will never allow Russia to gain a foothold here and the people of California would not trade one master for another. They are tasting the heady wine of independence and would not meekly accept colonial status from Russia."

  "Ah, it's what I expected to hear. I have, my lord, been north since I left you and I heard much the same. The settlement at Fort Ross has been given notice by the governor that they are to leave, to relocate elsewhere but not within the province of California. He has those instructions, I understand, from Mexico. After I visited the north, I went back to Mexico and the news there is even more interesting."

  The captain paused and took a swallow of ale. "Oh, and what is that?" asked Dimitri.

  "It appears that the United States is also concerned about the Czar's intentions. President Monroe has sent a warning to the Czar that America would consider it an act of aggression against American security if Russia should attempt to interfere in California or Mexico. They are wary of allowing the Czar to hold territory at their back door, so to speak, and are warning him off. The President has also warned Europe that they would view any attempt to give Spain back her colonies in the Caribbean or South America in
the same light. America will allow no interference by any foreign powers. The rumor also says that the British are in full agreement and will stand with America should it come to a test. An official proclamation will soon be issued on the matter, according to the American official I spoke to in Mexico. With allies like America and Britain, Mexico would make any meddling by a foreign power a dangerous business."

  Dimitri nodded. "I agree and we can only hope the Czar will see that. He is a shrewd man," Dimitri mused, "a bold man but far from foolish. He seizes what he can without great risk but he will not lead Russia into a war over this colony of California."

  "And is your own business not yet concluded here, my lord? The Czar expected to have this report delivered in person, you know. Are you not going back with me? It will be months before I can return to pick you up."

  Dimitri took a deep breath, aware of the magnitude of what he was about to say but he had made his decision. "I won't be going back. Not now, nor in the future. I will be staying here. You don't have to break that piece of news to the Czar. I have told him in my letter and explained my reasons. California needs me and I need her. There is little need for me in Russia. Oh, I can spend my life at court, running the Czar's errands until the time comes for me to retire on the small estate left to me by my grandmother.

  Here, there is a new country to build, a future for California to shape. I have strong bonds to it through my mother's heritage and I cannot refuse the claim it makes on me. I would ask another favor, however. Here is a letter to my father. Can you deliver it also?"

  But the captain sat in stunned silence, gaping at the second letter lying on the table beside the first. "You can't mean . . . The Czar—"

  "The Czar will understand. He knows me very well, Captain, and it will not surprise him as much as it surprises you. But a man cannot serve two mistresses successfully and I am forced to choose."

  "It will anger him," the captain suggested.

  Dimitri smiled. "Then I suggest you deliver the letter and absent yourself until that anger has cooled. It will cool, I promise you. I know him very well also! Thank you for your help. I hope he appreciates the invaluable work you do for him." Dimitri rose. "You are always welcome as a visitor at the Hacienda Azahar, Captain. I would always be glad to hear the news from home. And," he added with a glint of amusement, ''you could visit me openly, now that our need for secrecy is over. If . . . when," he corrected himself, "California joins Mexico in independence, we can even offer you some profitable cargoes." He glanced at Sergei, waiting patiently by his side. "You are free, Sergei, to return with the captain."

  Sergei snorted and glared at his master. "You do not rid yourself of me so easily, my lord! Leave you here in this benighted land without my protection? Never!"

  Dimitri laughed. "Very well. You, too, shall become a Californian. Just do not forget that you made the choice. Thank you again, Captain. I fear we must not stay and share a meal with you. We have a long way to ride tonight. Events demand that I return home immediately."

  Dimitri shook the dazed captain's hand and led the way from the inn, feeling freer than he had in months. He had severed the bonds that hampered him, that tied him to the old life. Now he could begin forging new ones, moving boldly forward to shape a young country's growth. He sighed deeply with satisfaction as they left the village behind.

  "My lord?"

  Dimitri roused from his thoughts and looked at his companion. "What, Sergei?"

  Sergei hesitated. "Did you mean it, lord?"

  "I meant it. Sergei, it's not too late for you to change your mind, you know. The captain won't have sailed yet."

  "I stay with you," replied Sergei firmly, "but . . . I'm afraid you will regret this, my lord. I mean, you are accustomed to Russia, my lord, and the comforts of the Czar's courts and the responsibility—"

  Dimitri laughed. "Already regretting the loss of comfort, Sergei?" He ignored his servant's vehement denial and said slowly, "I have made my choice. I found that I couldn't serve two masters, Sergei, and that a choice had to be made. This is home now. There is useful work for us both here."

  Sergei sighed. "You are right, my lord. This uncivilized place needs some gentling influence, and as for politics, they certainly can get themselves in a tangle."

  "You provide the civilizing, Sergei, and I'll do my best to untangle the politics."

  "Ha! And of the two, my job will be more difficult! To begin with, the cuisine . . ."

  As the moonlight paved the way over the rolling hills, Sergei outlined the numerous deficiencies in the culture of his newly adopted country. Since he did not bother to wait for comments, Dimitri was free to think of Leonor and what awaited them tomorrow.

  Chapter Eighteen

  At midday, a troop of soldiers arrived at the gate, demanding permission to search the estate for the missing senorita.

  "No, senor," Andres said, masking his glee. "You may not pass the front gate."

  "But," sputtered the sergeant. "That is idiotic. Why can we not?"

  "My master has given orders," replied Andres stoutly.

  "Let me speak to your master."

  "That is impossible. My master is not at home. I am stunned to hear that Senorita Leonor is missing and our own men will scour the estate. If we find any sign of her, we will inform Don Gilberto pronto."

  "You do that," answered the sergeant sourly.

  "Lieutenant," said Andres, hoping the promotion would make the sergeant friendlier, "where have you looked?"

  After the briefest of hesitation, the sergeant admitted that men were searching every dwelling and every inch of land on the de Reyes estate. "I, myself," continued the sergeant, "have searched the road and the woods on either side of it almost to the pueblo."

  "Do you think she might have reached Los Angeles?" asked Andres, in his most concerned tone.

  "There has been no trace of her, anywhere. It appears she vanished in the night, leaving no clue behind her. But," he recalled his duties, "we have not time to sit here chatting. I will report your lack of cooperation to Don Carlos and Don Gilberto."

  "You do that," replied Andres. Then he recognized the efficient corporal who had told Don Dimitri about his, Andres', arrest the day of the festival and he winked at the fellow, but the corporal straightened in the saddle and refused to acknowledge him.

  Andres watched them ride off, thwarted in their demands. Not long after, Don Gilberto rode up and demanded entrance.

  "I regret this, Don Gilberto," Andres said humbly, "but I dare not go against the master's wishes. I will tell him you called. And be assured, our men are at this moment searching the estate."

  "Damn your impudence! Call your master this moment or you will live to regret it."

  "That I cannot do. A pressing bit of business called him away early this morning. I will tell him you called. He will be grieved at missing you."

  "Where in hell did he go?" Don Gilberto's face was a mask of cold anger.

  "He did not confide in me and I do not ask the senor about his private concerns. But his orders were clear. No one is to pass the gate." Andres would have delighted in telling Don Gilberto that not even the governor himself would be admitted to the estates today but he could tell that the man's temper was about to explode. So he bowed instead and retreated, smothering a grin.

  Don Gilberto, balked in his attempt to learn whether or not his assassin had prevailed, rode home. His mind worked busily. If the Russian bastard had survived, he certainly would have ordered tight security and could even have ordered the man Andres to say he was absent. Don Gilberto did not believe that lie about Dimitri's absence on a business affair. Under the circumstances, no man of sense would have left the security of his estate, no matter how pressing the business. No, if Don Dimitri were alive, he was barricaded behind that tight cordon of guards. If he were not alive . . . Don Gilberto tried to think about the implications of that. If his master had been killed during the night, would Andres be coolly holding the front gate with an armed force
? The more Don Gilberto thought about it, the more he was sure that Cesar, clever young man that he was, would have ordered just that. He would have sealed off the estate until order was restored and . . . then what?

  Don Gilberto realized that he did not know what Cesar would do next. Send word to the governor of the murder of his master? Had he, perhaps, already done so and was securing the estate until he received instructions? Baffled and increasingly uneasy, Don Gilberto rode into his own estates.

  His wife stumbled out of the house and clutched his horse's stirrups. "Oh, Gilberto, did you find her?"

  Don Gilberto dismounted with difficulty, motioned to his men to leave and take the mount with them, and put his arm around his wife. "No, there is no sign of her, Juana. But, do not despair. If we have not found her, there is a chance she is still alive and well." That thought had entered his head earlier and increased his distress. He led his wife into the house and put her into Paquita's hands.