Without pausing, Don Carlos wheeled, his hand going to his sword. Dimitri stepped forward, the pistol in his hand and met the man's maddened gaze across the clearing. Then, with a face like ice, he handed the pistol to Sergei, who had loomed up out of the gloom, and drew his own sword.
"My lord," Sergei protested, "dispatch him quickly, for the love of God!"
Dimitri shook his head, his eyes steely blue. "I'll have the pleasure of killing him in my own way. A bullet is too good for him," he added harshly.
The moonlight glinted on the two blades as they circled the clearing. Carlos Balsas was older, heavier but he moved like a much younger man. His sword was a heavy broadsword, with a wide blade sharpened on both edges. It was a sword made for stabbing and hacking and would shatter a lighter blade. Dimitri had the advantage in height and in reach but his sword was the light cavalry saber he had always preferred, with its softly curved blade of lighter, more flexible steel. It was designed for use leaning from the saddle, its sharpened inside edge honed to razor sharpness. The lightness and curve of the blade would put him at a disadvantage now, particularly if he allowed Don Carlos to prod him into fighting a standard duel. His blade was too light to tolerate the punishing blows of the heavier steel blade. The leather thong was firmly around his wrist as he circled the clearing, staying out of reach of that jabbing sword.
Dimitri did not make the mistake of underestimating this man. Don Carlos had been a soldier for many years before becoming the commandant and he would not be without skill with his blade. But neither was Dimitri inexperienced and Don Carlos, eyeing the gleaming sabre, smiled malevolently. He rushed at Dimitri, slashing forward with his broadsword but Dimitri leapt back and the sword rushed past him. Then he lunged, swinging his saber in a glittering arc, its deadly curved blade speeding toward Don Carlos's head. Carlos stumbled back but he could not move out of reach in time to avoid being wounded. The sabre slashed across his shoulders and chest, laying bare the pale skin beneath the heavy jacket he wore. Blood oozed sluggishly from the gash, staining his shirt and jacket. He swore and pressed forward, wielding his broadsword feverishly. Dimitri danced back out of reach, always moving, always evading that heavy, hacking blade, swinging his saber again and again at the man's head and chest, unnerving him, forcing him to stumble in his rushes.
Sergei held the pistol firmly, determined to use it if he felt the fight was going against his master. He knew very well how Dimitri would respond to that plan, but he would not allow that madman to kill Dimitri when he, Sergei, could prevent it. He heard movement behind him in the underbrush and turned swiftly, prepared to defend the man fighting in the clearing. It was Andres, dragging a cowed Don Gilberto along with him. Behind them came a dozen of the men Dimitri had brought with him. Silently they lined the edge of the clearing, their eyes glued to the fight.
Don Carlos, his eyes glazed with rage, fought like the madman he had become. He swung wildly with his sword, hacking, jabbing, pressing his potential victim back with a frenzied attack. Dimitri, his face cold and set, fought evenly, carefully. Only the merciless gray coldness of his eyes betrayed the intense fury and fear for the woman who lay unmoving against the rock wall. He parried and evaded the heavier blade, waiting for his opening. When it came he was ready. Carlos's thrust went wide and that shining saber, falling like a guillotine, with the moonlight scintillating down the length of the blade like a flame, soared down and bit deeply. It caught Don Carlos at the curve of his neck where it met the shoulders, and cleaved him nearly in half. He fell without a sound, his sword clanging on the rocks.
Then Dimitri tossed his bloody sword to Sergei and bounded across the clearing to kneel beside Leonor. He eased her up in his arms, a terrible fear in his heart, and gently brushed her tumbled hair back from her brow.
Her eyelashes fluttered and she slowly opened dazed eyes to stare up at him. With an inarticulate cry he held her to him, burying his face in her hair. "Oh, my darling, I thought I had lost you!"
She moved slightly so that she could see his face, oblivious to the throbbing pain in her head. A tear clung to his lashes as his hands cupped her face, his gaze going over every inch of it. "Would you have cared?" she whispered, her finger going up to touch the single tear that glistened on his cheek.
His eyes met and held hers. "I would have nothing if I lost you."
Her lips trembled. "Y-you love me?"
He read the incredulity in her eyes. "More than life itself."
With a gasp she slid her arms around his neck and held him close. "I love you," she told him fiercely. "I love you so much."
He held her off and smiled down at her, his eyes blazing blue with a tenderness that brought a lump to her throat.
Sergei coughed discreetly. "My lord."
"Ummm?" Dimitri murmured, leaning down to kiss Leonor.
Sergei waited patiently until his master quite thoroughly and leisurely kissed his wife and folded her in his arms. "My lord," he said, more sternly this time. "There are matters that await your attention."
With reluctance, Dimitri released Leonor and helped her to her feet. He kept his arm around her and she leaned against him, resting her throbbing head on his chest. Her bemused gaze came to rest on the man lying in the clearing. Sergei had tactfully covered him with his own jacket, to conceal from her the ugly wound, but she knew it was Don Carlos.
Sergei jerked his head toward the waiting group of men. Dimitri's narrowed glance fell on Don Gilberto, who was shrinking in Andres' firm hold. He felt for his sword and without a word Sergei handed him the saber, wiped clean in the tough grass. "Sergei, take her back to the house and see to that bump on her head. Now," he added softly, moving away from her toward the terrified man. "Don Gilberto—"
"No!" cried Leonor, catching his arm and holding him back. She stumbled in front of him and put her hands weakly against his chest. "You must not kill him!"
Dimitri looked at his foe over her head. "Give me one reason, Leonor, why I shouldn't. After what he's done to you—"
"Dimitri," she whispered, suddenly feeling dizzy and sick. "He's married to my mother. What would I say to her?" she asked with a little sob. He looked down at her. "Please, don't kill him. Think what it would do to her. She's innocent, Dimitri, and it would kill her too."
"If you think I'm going to allow him his freedom, to try again to kill you, Leonor—"
"No. No, I don't expect that. I don't want it, either. Just . . . find another way. Some way that won't hurt my mother."
Dimitri put his arm around her. "Another miracle?" he asked with a sigh. "You are a difficult wife to please." But the tightness of his arm around her waist told her that he understood and would find a way. He led her over to where Andres waited with his quaking prisoner and pinned the man with a sharp gaze.
"Don Gilberto, you have heard your stepdaughter plead for your miserable life, and it is a great deal more than you deserve. Yet, as I pointed out to her, this can't be allowed to happen again, can it?"
"I-I swear—" the man stuttered.
"I would not believe you if you swore on the thing most sacred to you! But I'll accede to her wishes and not kill you . . . under one condition."
"Anything."
"You will discover, by morning, some pressing business in Spain or in South America or wherever you wish to go, just so long as you put an ocean between yourself and Leonor. You can pack whatever you wish but I think I should warn you that Andres here has kindly volunteered to oversee what you do and what you choose to take along." Andres grinned and nodded. "He will escort you, with a troop of my own men, to San Francisco, where you will take a ship to your chosen destination. Only then will he cease to watch your every step."
"B-but my wife . . ."
"You will tell Dona Juana the truth or as much of it as you dare," Dimitri said softly. "You will not leave that unhappy task to my wife. If she chooses to go with you, that is her decision and yours. But you will not delay your own departure for longer than a day. Is that clear?"
>
Don Gilberto opened his mouth to protest and then his glance fell on the man who had led him into his disaster and he flinched from the sight of the blood that drenched the grass around the edges of the concealing jacket. "I will be ready," he said hoarsely.
Leonor looked at her stepfather in surprise. She had detested and feared him from the beginning. Now he was just a little man with no courage and no bravado left. She wondered how she could ever have feared him.
Dimitri jerked his head and Andres led his prisoner into the woods, followed by the silent men. He looked down at Leonor. "She will have to know, Leonor. There is no way the truth can possibly be concealed from her indefinitely. I don't think it will be the shock to her that you think it will. I think, in her heart, she knows what kind of man he is but she has not been forced to face it until now. With us to help her, she'll survive."
Leonor touched his cheek gently. "Thank you. I love you."
His smiled flashed and he kissed her gently. "You can start proving it to me when you are better. And you can keep proving it for the rest of your life! I'll take a lot of convincing, I think," he teased.
"I'm all right, Dimitri."
"That bump on your head tells me otherwise so you should have some time to recover."
She smiled. "I'll promise to hurry my convalescence," she murmured.
Dimitri smiled back at her and, putting his arm around her, he led her home to safety and warmth and love.
Chapter Twenty-Two
On April 11, 1822, Dimitri stood on a balcony, with Leonor tucked warmly against his side and they looked out over the festive plaza in Monterey. It had been quite an exciting day. In the morning the governor led the new Council in the oath of allegiance to Mexico and officially declared Alta California a dependency of the new Mexican Empire. No longer would the colony be hampered by Spain and Spanish restrictions and laws. The crowds had cheered wildly and then joined in the joyful religious celebration led by the bishop. Later the air had been shaken by the thunder of the guns as a salute was fired, followed by fireworks and parades.
The new green, white and red flags of the infant Mexican Empire waved proudly over the plaza. Streamers of those colors decorated the houses and shops along the wide avenue. Bands struck up and competed with the cheering of the crowds in volume, their brassy blaring frightening the pigeons away from the green square. Dimitri saw Andres, holding Paquita firmly by the hand, buttonhole the much-loved priest who had taken Father Bartolomé's place, and he grinned. He had already promised his fiery young overseer a larger house when he brought home his bride.
They had survived their winter of travail better than he would have imagined. Cesar had been carefully nursed and had already resumed management of the estate. Dona Juana had wisely allowed her husband to sail alone. The news of his departure and learning that her child was not dead was almost too much for her. She collapsed and for several weeks did not seem to know or care where she was. When she recovered, she said to Leonor that she had made a mistake in marrying Don Gilberto but she believed that marriage vows should be kept. Now that he had chosen to leave her, she reveled in her freedom and vowed that she had never been happier. No one outside the two estates knew of the real circumstances of Don Gilberto's leaving and Dona Juana, letting the outside world believe her husband had gone away on business, settled down to enjoy life.
Dimitri looked down as Leonor touched his arm. ''Just think," she said dreamily, leaning against his side, "our son will be a Californian."
"Of course he will. We are, too." Then he thought about what she had just said. "Do you mean what I think you do, darling?"
She smiled warmly at him. "Indeed I do, my husband."
"You are sure?"
She nodded, her beautiful face glowing with happiness.
"That news is the crowning glory of an already memorable day. But, one thing we must agree upon immediately."
"And that is?"
"And child you give me, Leonor, will be equally welcome. I will treasure a daughter as much as I will a son. And besides," he grinned at her, "we have plenty of time to have many children, sons and daughters, and all Californians."
"Not Spanish, not Russian, not Mexican," she murmured, "but Californian. Isn't it lovely?"
He nodded. "It's not often one assists in the birth of a new nation. Oh, I know we're a dependency of Mexico but there are too many like Andres and Cesar, who long for real independence. They yearn for the day when they will not have to answer to any overlord and they will work for that day."
"Where do you get such radical ideas?" she demanded. "Isn't it enough that we're free of Spain?"
"Today it is enough. And I have better ideas than that," he murmured in her ear. "Shall we leave this crowd to their fiesta and have our own little private celebration?"
"I find I like your ideas, my husband," she said as he held her even closer. "I thought, however, that I had convinced you that I loved you."
His lips caressed her ear. "I'm a hard nut to crack," he admitted. "It'll take more time than this to convince me."
She looked at him suspiciously, a gleam of laughter in her dark eyes. "How much time?"
"The rest of our lives," he said promptly, as he took her in his arms and kissed her. Overhead the fireworks began again, sending bursts of colored light high into the heavens, lighting up the sky with a noisy splendor. Held closely in his arms, Leonor was aware of the reflection of that spectacle bursting forth within her as he lifted her into his arms and carried her from the balcony into the quiet haven that awaited them.
Surrender by Moonlight Page 29