by Linda Ladd
"I won't waken him, I promise. I only want to see him and make sure he's all right."
Dona Maria sighed, shaking her head. "He's resting in my room."
"I will go with you," Tomas offered at once, but as Carlisle hurried away, his mother put a hand on his arm.
"No, mi hijo, this is something they must solve between themselves. You are not needed there."
Carlisle was grateful that Dona Maria had prevented Tomas from following her. She lifted her skirts and ran up the stairs, then stopped before the door, filled with dreadful nticipation. She turned the door handle.
The drapes and shutters were closed, but even in the semi-light she could see him sprawled across the wide bed, still dressed in travel-stained riding attire. She walked across to him, careful not to make a sound. He lay on his back, one arm flung out palm-up, the other curved above his head. He slept heavily, without moving.
He looked so handsome, so peaceful. A rush of tears threatened. Oh, God, why couldn't things have been different for them? Why had everything gotten so mixed up? Why couldn't they have met at a ball or across a tea table? Then they could have gotten to know each other, been friends, courted like other couples. Now she couldn't imagine why she'd disliked him at first, or why she'd put her trust in Javier and Arantxa. She'd been so stupid.
Chase stirred and murmured something unintelligible. Carlisle sat down on the bed, reaching out and touching her fingers to the thick dark growth on his chin. His beard was much darker than his hair, she thought irrelevantly, then slid her fingertips up to where his hair curled behind his ears. He needed a barber.
Her gaze moved to his open hand, and her heart lurched. She lifted it, cradling it gently. She stared down at the awful red scar and felt deep, bitter sorrow.
"Carly?" Chase mumbled groggily, raising himself up on his elbow, his eyes bleary with sleep. His other hand found the back of her head, his fingers tangling in the loose chignon. Carlisle went eagerly, gladly, as he pulled her down against his chest.
"Oh, Chase, I've missed you so much," she whispered, breathless as his mouth found her lips. Then her words were taken. He was aroused, his hands seeking entry into her clothes, and Carlisle knew he was still dreaming. But it felt so good to be held in his arms, to hear him murmuring her name against her hair. His lips sought hers again, almost desperately.
"I love you, Chase. I love you so much," she murmured as she slid her arms around his neck.
She felt his shoulders tense, then gasped as his eyes flew open. His fingers closed cruelly over her arms and thrust her away from him. He was up off the bed before she could catch her breath, combing trembling fingers through his hair as he leaned shakily against the bedside table.
"Dammit, what the hell are you doing here?"
Chase hadn't looked at her yet, as if he couldn't bear to, and his sudden coldness slashed Carlisle's heart like a saber. She tried to gather up her pride and use it as a shield, but she found she had very little left. Her voice shook when she tried to answer.
"I was too sick to leave at first, then—"
"I don't give a damn! I told Tomas to put you on a ship out of here!"
Carlisle could see fury flashing in the blue of his eyes now, and even though his terrible anger was intimidating, she knew in her heart he didn't really hate her, which had been her greatest fear. He still wanted and needed her. He'd shown that when he'd been half asleep and unaware, before all the guilt and blame had descended on his conscious mind. She took a deep breath.
"I know you don't want me here, and—"
"You're damn right I don't. And Tomas better have a hell of a good excuse for you still being around."
"Tomas did not make the decision. I did." Dona Maria stood in the doorway, drawn up to her full height. "And I'll not let you blame your brother or your novia."
Chase looked as if he'd been struck by a thunderbolt.
"My novia?" he repeated, then laughed so coldly that Carlisle shivered. His amusement was short-lived.
"She is not my fiancée, or anything else. She is nothing to me."
Carlisle lowered her eyes, fighting tears of humiliation, but Dona Maria's voice was calm.
"There you are wrong, mi hijo. Dona Carlita is the mother of your unborn child."
The silence was long, and so heavy that the room seemed smothered by it. Carlisle could not bring herself to meet Chase's eyes.
"And what makes you think the child she carries is mine?" Chase asked at last, his voice brittle.
"Chaso! How dare you speak so to Dona Carlita?"
"You do not think my question legitimate under the circumstances, Mother?"
"I think your question is insulting. Do you deny the possibility that you could be the father?"
"I can't deny that, and she damn well knows it. But I won't be trapped into a marriage, like some schoolboy."
At that, Carlisle found the tattered shreds of her pride.
"Nor will I," she said. "I will leave this house tonight."
"You will do no such thing," Dona Maria replied at once. "And this bickering will solve nothing. We will speak of it again when my son is rested and refreshed, and can behave like a gentleman. Come with me, Dona Carlita. Tomas awaits us for comida. Chaso will join us later."
Chase muttered a furious curse, and Carlisle bit her lip, distressed, as Dona Maria led her from the room.
15
Chase paced back and forth across the floor of his bedchamber, his gut knotted with nerves. Since he'd found Carlisle in his house, claiming to be with child, he'd felt sick inside, tormented in heart and mind.
Worse, he'd found he still wanted her desperately. Touching her again, holding her in his arms, had made him forget for a moment all she'd done. Damn her for coming to him when he'd been so weak, his guard down. Even now, as he tried to focus only on her crimes, his mind rebelled and all he could think about was the texture of her hair, the way the thick golden-red strands slipped through his fingers as fragrant as flowers, as soft as silk. Dios, she could drive a man insane!
Steeling himself, he conjured up Conchita's grief the day he'd told her about her husband's death. His anger returned in quick, staccato surges, like a pulse driven by a pounding heart. He left his room and descended to the patio. As he reached the dining table on the arcaded porch, he was thankful that rage gripped him, because Carlisle sat beside his mother, so beautiful under the candlelight that his breath was snatched from him. She wore a serene, seraphic look, entrancing but deceiving.
He cursed her inwardly, and avoided looking at her. Instead, he bent and kissed his mother's cheek.
"Buenas noches, Chaso," his mother greeted him. "Now that you've bathed and rested, I trust you are more yourself."
"Sí," Chase replied, ignoring her subtle rebuke. As he sat down, he glanced at his half brother. "Hola, Tomas."
"Aren't you going to speak to Dona Carlita?" was Tomas's curt demand.
Surprised, Chase observed his brother for a moment. He shrugged. "Why should I?"
His remark angered Carlisle—he could see her eyes flare—but she only lowered her lashes. Tomas was not so circumspect about his opinion.
"How dare you treat her in such a way?" he cried furiously, coming to his feet.
Tomas's extreme reaction was unexpected, but Chase was careful not to show his concern. He looked at Carlisle instead, who seemed as startled as he by Tomas's behavior.
"Sit down, Tomas, and quit acting like a ruffian," his mother said. "I am beginning to wonder what kind of sons I have raised. Have both of you forgotten your manners?"
His face still flushed a mottled red. Tomas sat down again.
Water tinkled musically from the fountain as the maids moved around the table, serving enchiladas and rice. The silence between the diners continued, and Chase drank his wine, noting with some satisfaction that Carlisle seemed robbed of appetite. He watched her surreptitiously, then realized that Tomas did the same. Dios, he realized, Tomas is infatuated with her, too. She had wasted
no time enticing the boy into her silky web.
"Why the hell didn't you do as I told you?" he said tightly to Tomas, a black frown on his face. "You were to send her home immediately. If you'd done that, none of this would be happening."
Tomas glared accusingly at him. "She is to have your child! What kind of man are you to use her, then thrust her aside?"
"Stop it," Carlisle cried, her face drained of color. Her mouth trembled as they all looked at her. "I won't listen to this any longer. And I won't stay here, Chase. You have no need to worry. I intend to leave in the morning. I made the decision earlier, and there's nothing any of you can do to stop me." Her gaze sought Dona Maria. "You have been very kind, senora, and I'll always remember that. But I don't belong here."
No one spoke as she walked away, her head held high. Even her decision to leave annoyed Chase. He was further irritated by Tomas's next pronouncement.
"If you are not man enough to do the honorable thing toward Dona Carlita, Chaso, then I will. I intend to ask Dona Carlita to become my wife."
"Tomas!" his mother cried, shocked.
Chase only laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. You're only a boy."
"I'm not a boy. I'm sixteen, and I won't let you dishonor poor Dona Carlita. She is so sweet—"
Chase slammed his fist down on the table. The resulting thud rattled the dishes and upset his mother's wineglass. His blue eyes burned with fury.
"Poor Carlita betrayed me! She got Esteban killed! I was crucified because of that sweet girl!"
Tomas looked as if he'd been struck across the face, and tears shone in Dona Maria's eyes as Chase stood, trying to control his anger. It took him several minutes.
"If she is pregnant," he said at length, his voice strained, "and if the baby is mine, then I will consider the options."
"The baby is yours," his mother said quietly. "She has not lain with any other man. She told me herself, and I believe her."
"Javier Perez says differently," he returned coldly. "He enlightened me with a great deal of relish while he tortured me."
"And he has certainly proved himself the most trustworthy of men, hasn't he, my son?"
His mother's sarcasm made Chase flush.
"I don't care whose baby it is! I love Carlita!” Tomas said heatedly. "If you don't want her, I do. I'll marry her tonight and claim the baby as mine."
Astonished, both his mother and brother turned to stare at him.
"Don't be absurd," Chase muttered.
"What's so absurd about it?" Tomas demanded. "At least I know my duty as a man. Apparently you've forgotten what honor is!"
"Shut up, Tomas," Chase said harshly. "There's no way in hell you'll ever marry Carlisle, comprendes?"
His voice was so dangerous now that Tomas clamped his lips together, his expression mutinous.
"I'm not so sure Tomas's suggestion is a bad one, under the circumstances," Dona Maria said, flabbergasting Chase. "Dona Carlita is close to his age. It is a convenient solution, Chaso, since you obviously intend to shirk your responsibility to her."
Furious, Chase turned on his mother. "I won't be manipulated into marrying a woman I despise." His voice was low and lethal.
"And I will not abandon my first grandchild to the life of a bastard," Dona Maria said, very calmly, but displaying the same stubbornness as her son.
Chase glared at her, a muscle twitching in his tanned cheek.
"I will do as I see fit with Carlisle," he said tightly, "and I'll tolerate no interference from either of you, is that clear?"
Without another word, Chase turned and stalked away in search of Carlisle.
Still trembling with anger, her hurt and longing momentarily forgotten, Carlisle slung several of her gowns into the trunk she'd dragged from the adjoining dressing room. Chase didn't care about her or the baby. He didn't care about anything. She'd go home to Chicago, where she belonged, and have her baby there!
That thought sobered her and made her weak-kneed. She sank down in front of her mirrored dressing table and stared into her own frightened green eyes. What would Gray and Stone say when they learned she was pregnant out of wedlock? They'd be appalled and disappointed and hurt. Both of them had protected her virtue so diligently.
They'd be furious, too, although she knew they would forgive her eventually and hush up the scandal. And Carlisle knew Tyler would stand by her. Tyler was very loyal to those she cared about. Chase would be the one they'd condemn. They'd blame him for everything.
Suddenly the idea of going home didn't seem so awful. Up until now, she'd put off writing Gray out of shame. Now she realized they'd all have to know. But what if they insisted Chase marry her against his will? The idea was so repugnant, she shuddered.
"Never. They can't make me do that," she vowed in a whisper, horrified to think what an enforced marriage to Chase would be like.
"Make you do what?"
Carlisle's gaze flew up to where Chase was reflected in the looking glass. At once, and without mercy, the old pull of his magnetism began—the strange, inexplicable hold he had on her. She stiffened, preparing herself when she recognized the carefully controlled expression on his face. It signified a dangerous, unpredictable mood. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, nervous, aware that they were alone in her bedchamber. She drew her dressing gown together at the throat as his dark blue eyes raked over her figure.
"What do you want? I'm not dressed," she said, trying to sound cold, but she was embarrassed when her voice quivered noticeably.
Chase barked a laugh totally devoid of humor. "Why this sudden shyness, Carly? If you'll remember, I'm no stranger to your body."
Carlisle dropped her gaze, again plagued by an awful urge to cry. But she wouldn't, not with him watching. She'd keep her self-respect, even, if he took everything else from her.
"Go away, Chase, please. I don't want to fight. I'm leaving in the morning. Isn't that soon enough for you?"
"Perhaps it would be if you hadn't seen fit to seduce my little brother first."
His remark shocked Carlisle. She finally met his accusing stare. "What do you mean? Tomas has been kind, and he's treated me like a lady. He's my friend, and I care about him."
"And you have beguiled him, as you did so many other men." His voice dropped to a husky whisper. Carlisle grew wary. He lifted one long, curling lock from where it lay on her back. Her heart raced and she shut her eyes. Why did she have to turn into a quivering mass of jelly when he touched her? Why did she have to love him so much?
"In fact," he went on slowly, caressing a strand of her hair between his thumb and forefinger, "he wants to marry you. Is that what you had in mind?"
Carlisle couldn't mask her astonishment. "Of course not. He's just a boy."
"He doesn't seem to think so."
Carlisle could sense there was something more, and she felt a strange terror well up inside her.
"What do you want, Chase? I'm tired, and I don't feel well."
She stood, intending to move away from him so she could control her reaction to having him so close. Still, after all his cruel words of rejection, she wanted him to hold her and kiss her. She barely got a step away when he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around.
"I'm tired of playing games with you, Carly. I want to know if the baby you're carrying is mine."
Carlisle blanched, then tried ineffectually to push him away. It was like trying to shove a brick wall. "How dare you ask me such a thing? I've never known a man before you. Javier never touched me like that, not once, and I never wanted him to. I was a virgin that first time in the cave, and you know it."
She twisted again, but his fingers tightened around her upper arms.
"And all these months I've been gone? How many lovers have you taken here in Mexico City?"
Appalled by his crude accusation, she stared unflinchingly at him, letting her contempt show in her eyes. His face remained impassive, but he suddenly released her. The tears that Carlisle had fought for so long came
in a flood now, and she turned away.
"I'm leaving, aren't I? I don't want anything from you! Please, just go away and leave me alone!"
"If that is my baby, do you really think I'll stand by and let you find some other lover to raise my son?"
Furiously, Carlisle turned on him. "What do you expect me to do? You've made it clear that you can't stand the sight of me!"
"Unfortunately, I suppose I'll have to tolerate your presence here, at least until the baby is born."
A great seething rage roiled up within Carlisle. "But I don't think I can tolerate yours. I don't have to be humiliated by you. I'm going home, Chase, and you can't stop me."
"Oh, can't I, Carlisle?" he answered with a smile of disdain, his eyes as hard as arctic ice. "You will stay here and become my wife, because I'll not have my son born a bastard. But don't expect me to ever share your bed again. And don't think I'll ever love you or forget your treachery."
"And I have no say in the matter?"
His smile was frigid. "Not one word, querida. Not a single word."
Their gazes held for one long moment; then he took himself out of the room with long, angry strides, leaving her leaning weakly against her dressing table.
The door slammed hard enough to jar the hinges, and Carlisle shook with anger. But deep in her heart, a different emotion fought to fly free. He'd been angry, his words purposely laced with cruel barbs, but he no longer questioned that the baby was his. He was willing to marry her and give the child his name. More than anything in the world, that was what Carlisle wanted. Her baby would know his father.
Chase was still filled with rage and bitterness, but she could not blame him. She had to make him see how much she loved him, how sorry she was that she'd caused him such suffering. He wanted the baby growing inside her, and someday, God willing, he'd want her again, too.
As twilight drifted down like a silver-gray mantle over the tiled red rooftops of the city, Carlisle sat alone on the elaborate velvet bench at the foot of her immense four-poster bed. Her heavy satin gown, the color of old ivory, lay against her knees in graceful, glistening folds, with hundreds of seed pearls gleaming among the exquisite swirling lace.