He was holding his cheek like she'd cut him with a razor. Lourdes glanced down and saw her hair clip in her hand. "This isn't sharp enough to have cut you," she protested, showing it to him.
"And I'm to believe you didn't know it was iron?"
Iron? What did he mean? Lourdes didn't like craning up to look at him this way, but if she rose from the bed she would be in his arms. As peeved as he seemed, that wouldn't be a good idea.
"Step back," she ordered. His jaw clenched, and she added 'mulish' to her list of his bad qualities. "So I can look at your cheek," she explained. "Please."
He turned away. "I don't need you to look at it."
Now he sounded like a little boy. Lourdes pushed herself off the bed, went to his side, and dragged his hand down. She'd been expecting a small cut or scrape. Instead an angry red burn marked his cheek, shaped exactly like the back of her hair barrette. She tossed the thing onto the bed behind her, then stood on her tip-toes to get a better look. "It burned you," she said, mystified. "Has that happened before?"
His eyes narrowed. "Of course it has."
Lourdes marched over to the marble washstand and dunked a towel in what remained of yesterday's bowl of water. She came back and held it out to him. "Hold that to your cheek."
Finn's expression wasn't angry any longer, but he didn't take the towel from her. "You didn't know," he pronounced in a low voice.
Lourdes stood there, water dripping from the towel onto the flowered carpet. She had no idea what it was she supposedly knew…or didn't know. "What do you mean?"
One of his dark brows rose. "Shall we call it an unfortunate accident, then?"
Lourdes glanced at the untouched towel in her hand and noted for the first time that her wrapper had come untied. The buttons at the neck of her gown were undone as well, the placket opened almost to her breasts. She didn't recall his touching either one. She must look like…
Someone knocked briskly at the door. Lourdes spun that way, clutching her gown closed with her free hand. It was the chambermaid with her fresh bowl of hot water. It had to be.
"Mrs. Medina?" a feminine voice called through the door.
Lourdes dropped the towel to the floor and started tying up her wrapper as she ran to the door. Once her garments were secured, she opened the door only wide enough for the chambermaid to pass her the container of water. "I'll take it."
"I'll get the other, ma'am," the girl said, pushing the door half open with her shoulder.
If she tried to keep the girl out, it would only call attention to the fact that there was a man in her room. Lourdes stepped back, hoping the girl didn't know that this room's occupant was traveling alone.
The chambermaid walked in, regally set the new tray on the washstand, and picked up the old one. She turned to face Lourdes. "Will that be all, Mrs. Medina?"
There wasn't a flicker of surprise on the girl's face, so she must not think anything of seeing a male guest in a woman's room, still in his eveningwear. Lourdes shook her head. "That's all for now. Thank you."
The girl bobbed and left the room, closing the door one-handed behind her. Lourdes could only hope the maid didn't spread tales. She turned back to Finn.
He wasn't there.
She surveyed the room quickly. The man wasn't hiding anywhere, was he? He couldn't be behind the lace curtains and the closet was on the other side of the room. She bent and looked under the bed, but saw nothing. When she rose, she nearly screamed. He was standing right next to her.
Lourdes pressed a hand over her mouth hard enough to quell her reaction. After a second, she'd gathered her nerves. "Where did you go?"
"You couldn't see me, could you?" he asked in response.
Couldn't see him? "Where did you go?"
He looked quite pleased with himself. "Oh, I was right here, my dear."
She didn't bother to answer that. His cheek, a virulent red where burned before, had faded to a much milder color, as if a day had passed. She simply stared, uncertain what to say.
"People don't see me if I don't want them to," he explained, as if it were commonplace for that to happen.
"Are you a brujo? A witch?" she asked, the only explanation she knew for such things.
"Not at all." It was the same answer he'd given before.
He touched her cheek again, but whatever chance he'd had of kissing her was gone. She was too confused to let him closer. "You should leave now."
He took that suggestion with equanimity, a good thing since she knew very well he could overpower her if he were that sort of man. "Promise you'll come out to see the horse later," he said. "Please."
It probably wasn't a good idea. Lourdes nodded her head briefly anyway. She did want to see Nevada.
And without even looking first, he slipped out of her hotel room into the hallway. She hoped he was right, that no one would see him.
Lourdes covered her face with her hands and sank down on the edge of the bed. What was she doing, letting this man tangle her up in his…everything? It was bad enough that she'd spent the night in his company, but all that time she'd been in public view. Well, almost all that time. There had been those few minutes in the darkened tower when he'd almost kissed her. Other than that she'd behaved properly, if not entirely blamelessly. Brighid Doherty couldn't prove that Lourdes had done anything to steal the man from her.
But letting him into her hotel room, particularly in her current state of dress, had been foolish. Letting him kiss her had been reckless. She could have paid a high price for that. He could have taken advantage of her, and she doubted that kneeing him in the cojones would have kept him from what he wanted.
The problem was that she had no idea what the man truly wanted. She didn't feel he was lying to her. But he wasn't telling her all of the truth either.
She picked up her hair barrette and peered at the clasp that had burned his skin. Even though the barrette itself was silver, the clasp was steel. He'd said something about setting iron to his flesh. She closed her hand about the barrette, wondering why steel would burn anyone.
And he seemed to think that people didn't see him if he didn't want them to. She hadn't, which seemed to verify it. He knew she could talk to horses. He could hear that. Yet he also insisted he wasn't a witch. What was he, then?
Then she realized he had lied to her about one thing.
He'd come into her room because he'd not wanted anyone to see her talking to him, for the sake of her reputation. But if no one could see him when he didn't want them to, then no one would have seen him talking to her in the hallway, would they?
Lourdes rubbed her hands over her face, wishing she wasn't quite such a fool.
Part 3
September 5, 1909
Lourdes was starving after mass, so she headed back to the hotel to eat breakfast. As it wasn't far from the church, she decided to walk. She passed the graceful iron piazza of the Grand Union Hotel, and then the American. As she approached under the shade of the tall elms, it seemed as if the entire clientele of the United States Hotel had come out to sit in the wicker rocking chairs on the veranda to observe the passing traffic. Without a maid or companion, she would be fodder for the gossips. Lourdes simply kept her head high and walked on up the steps into the hotel.
She'd prayed for guidance again, hoping the angel from her dreams the previous week hadn't led her astray. She'd left her home, endured days of train travel, and didn't have her horse. Then again, the angel hadn't promised she would get her horse back, that she would find a comfortable new life, or that she would be happy. The angel had simply told her to follow Nevada. She'd done so. Now she had to decide if she would follow Nevada out to Finn's farm.
She took breakfast in the long dining hall, alone among the other guests. Once she'd worked her way through the overlarge meal she headed back toward the lobby to go up to her room. As she passed near the front desk, she overhead a woman saying, "Medina. I think it's Medina."
Lourdes glanced discreetly at the woman who was speaking
her name, a tallish lady about her own age. The newcomer wore a walking suit in ivory with brown trim at the hem, and her straw hat was pinned atop hair of such a pale blonde that it looked white, almost the color of cream. The head usher spoke to the woman and pointed vaguely in Lourdes' direction.
Lourdes headed that way. "Are you looking for me, perhaps?"
The woman smiled, the action lighting her features. "Are you Mrs. Medina?"
Despite her pale hair, the woman had dark brows and brown eyes, and the resemblance to Finn was startling. Lourdes held out her hand. "Yes. I'm pleased to meet you."
The woman shook her hand firmly. "I'm Imogen O'Donnell. My husband gave me very vague directions, so I'm shocked I found you so easily."
Lourdes hadn't heard anything past the woman's name. It couldn't be a coincidence. "You aren't Mr. Finnegan's daughter, are you? He ate dinner with me last night and told me…"
Mrs. O'Donnell eyed her with such concern that Lourdes didn't finish. The woman set a gloved hand under Lourdes' elbow and drew her farther from the front desk to avoid being overheard. "What exactly did he tell you?"
"Nothing of import," Lourdes reassured her. "Only that he had a daughter named Imogen. She must be named for you, I expect."
Mrs. O'Donnell pressed her lips together and took a deep breath, apparently an effort to calm her nerves. "It is the most obvious explanation," she said with a rueful smile. "Actually, I came to invite you to dinner tonight. My husband said you were here in town alone, and we would love to have you visit with us."
"Are you certain, Mrs. O'Donnell? You need not, if it's inconvenient."
Mrs. O'Donnell shook her head. "Please, call me Imogen."
She had to look up to this woman but not nearly as much as she did to Finn. "And I am Lourdes."
Imogen leaned closer. "How exactly did you end up eating dinner with Finn?"
"He came and sat down at my table," Lourdes explained. "Uninvited, but I didn't mind."
The other woman's face took on a calculating expression. "Of course, he did."
"I suspect he's the sort who delights in confounding others," Lourdes said.
"That, he does," Imogen allowed wryly. "It has been interesting to have him as a neighbor this last year."
Neighbor, as well as family, then. "He told me you're related, but never managed to say exactly how. Are you close?"
"Our relationship is…complicated. He's actually known my husband far longer than he's known me."
"I see." Finn was apparently not the only person hereabouts who could talk and talk without ever answering the question asked. What did the woman have to hide?
"Do you have plans for this afternoon?" Imogen asked, as if suddenly recalling she'd meant to. Or as a distraction.
"I'm not certain," Lourdes answered honestly. "I am to visit Mr. Finnegan's farm later this morning. To see a horse."
Imogen nodded. "Are you to go soon? If so I could drive you there as I'm headed back that way. His property borders mine, so it's no trouble."
Lourdes noted that the property was mine, not ours. Did that mean this woman owned the land rather than her husband? How unusual. "Mr. Finnegan never specified a time," she said. "If you don't mind my going up to my room first, I'd appreciate the ride."
When Mrs. O'Donnell agreed, Lourdes walked quickly to the elevators. She would have to come up with some way to return to the hotel, but she didn't doubt that Finn would have someone who could drive her back to town. But he would probably try to convince her to stay the night. Lourdes felt a smile tugging at her lips. He was an annoying man and didn't make sense, but she had to admit she was attracted to him.
She stepped off the elevator on her floor, walked around the corner, and was greeted with the sight of three maids, dark heads together as they conferred urgently in the corridor outside her room. They all jumped back guiltily when they spotted her approaching, which only gave Lourdes more cause to worry.
"Missus Medina, ma'am," one began in a wide drawl, "we didn't none of us do that. I swear. We don't know who got into your room, missus, but we swear…"
So much for her happy ride out to the farm. Lourdes held up one hand. "What happened?"
One of the other girls answered, her dark eyes wide. "We don't know, missus. Fabiana was going in to air your room and just found it that way, but it wasn't that way earlier when Bessie went in to leave your pressing." She'd pointed to the two other maids in turn, providing Lourdes with names.
Lourdes felt her stomach sinking. What had them so worried? "Let's see it then."
The second girl opened the door onto a scene of destruction. Every bit of fabric--the bedding, the draperies, the flowered carpet even--had been shredded. Down from the pillows spread all over the room. The silk and chiffon dress she'd worn the night before, sponged and pressed by Bessie that morning, was on a hook on the front of the closet door, but it hung in tatters.
"Madre de Dios," Lourdes whispered under her breath and then crossed herself. How could that much damage have been done in so short a time? It hadn't been much more than two hours since she'd left for mass. The sinking in her stomach turned to fear. She went to the closet and flung open the door. "Oh, no."
All the dresses and suits hanging there were shredded as well, some worse than others. Lourdes turned back to the trio of maids. "What happened? Did anyone go into or out of my room?"
Bessie's eyes went even wider at the sight of the closet's contents. "I was in here just an hour ago, Mrs. Medina. Everything was fine, then."
Lourdes had a strong suspicion whom to blame. Miss Doherty had done this, even if Lourdes had no idea how. She stooped down and picked up the remains of the rose-colored scarf Diego had bought for her in Seville. It brought out the color in her cheeks, so she'd intended to wear it out to Finn's farm. Now she felt a strong desire to strangle someone with it.
She took a deep breath and gathered her nerves. If Miss Doherty had done this as a warning to stay away from Finn, it didn't have the desired effect. Instead it only made Lourdes more determined to see more of the man. With a firm nod, she turned back to the three maids. "Would one of you go down to the lobby for me? There's a woman with white hair waiting for me to return. She's wearing an ivory suit with brown trim. Taller than average. Mrs. O'Donnell."
"I'll find her, missus," the first maid said with a polite bob.
"Please tell here there's been an accident, and that I can't join her this morning. I suppose one of you should fetch the head usher as well."
"I'll do that," the second girl said. She left the room in the wake of the other maid, leaving Lourdes alone with Bessie.
Lourdes took another deep breath, surveyed the mess around her, and decided to see if anything in the closet was salvageable. The maid helped, taking out one ruined garment after another. Fortunately, Lourdes had left her winter garments--not suitable to winter in the north, but better than nothing--in trunks in the hotel's storage rooms. So she did have some clothing to wear. And a search of the chest of drawers showed that the undergarments she'd set within had been overlooked. She wasn't certain if that was a mercy or not. She could use an excuse to purchase new ones, and she had the five thousand she hadn't spent on purchasing a horse…
"Oh, this is awful." Imogen O'Donnell stood in the doorway, her eyes wide.
Lourdes spotted the head usher standing in the hallway and gestured for Imogen to come into her room so that he could enter as well.
"I think you should come and stay out at the farm with us," Imogen said. "We have a guest room and we'd be happy for you to stay. Please."
Lourdes had been contemplating moving to a different room in the hotel. She fully expected the hotel's management to reimburse her for the clothing destroyed. There was no doubt that someone had broken into her room. Since the maids could place the time of the incident, when Lourdes had been eating breakfast on the veranda, there was no possibility she had done it herself. "I believe that whoever did this has made their point, Mrs. O'Donnell."
The usher wrung his hands. "I don't know how this could have happened, Mrs. Medina. I will have your things moved to another room immediately. I'll call the hotel detective in."
He almost ran from the room.
"He's scared of witches, missus," Bessie whispered in Lourdes' direction. "They're not supposed to be able to do anything inside the hotel's wards."
Lourdes tried to keep the shock off her face. In Texas, even though a building might have wards set up to protect it, that fact was never spoken aloud. "I see."
Imogen touched Lourdes' arm and drew her out of the girl's hearing. "I don't believe we're dealing with a witch here, so wards won't keep her out. I think you should come with me."
Lourdes wasn't angry any longer. There was little point in hanging on to fury. She was more interested in getting answers, and the woman standing in front of her seemed far more likely to be able to provide those answers than anyone at the hotel. "Thank you," she said. "That might be wise."
***
The rest of the morning was taken up with making preparations to remove to the O'Donnell farm. The head usher arranged a meeting between Lourdes and one of the directors for Tuesday morning. She agreed, knowing the longer she put it off, the less cooperative they would be in the matter of compensation. Still, they were not going to charge her for the room and were taking care of her trunks, so that was a start.
As Mrs. O'Donnell had returned to the farm ahead of her unexpected guest, the hotel offered a driver to take Lourdes there. A short time later she was riding out of town along the Lake Road in the back of the motorcar, a very queenly mode of travel. The young man driving didn't speak to her other than to verify that she was, indeed, Mrs. Medina. So she sat in the back and watched as they passed neat little farms and stretches of wooded roadside.
The O'Donnell place was called Hawk's Folly Farm. Lourdes was awed by the large green-roofed stables and the lovely house across from the paddocks, an elegant and spare creation of two stories. It was painted the light blue of the sky, with green trim that matched the roof of the stables.
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