Return of the Fox

by Pamela Gibson

  Tomas lived inland of the Vega ranch. When Gabriel was cleared of his crimes, she would most likely see him often. She would have to watch him woo other señoritas until he made his choice. He was handsome and virile, sought by many eligible young women.

  Which is why the charges against him are ludicrous.

  She shifted on the log where she sat as her throat tightened. It was time to walk back, briskly, to fend off the tears that threatened again. Vicenta would be looking for her, wanting to begin planning the many events that came with a Mexican wedding, and Isabella would have to pretend to be happy. In Mexican society, the groom’s family usually made all the arrangements. Tomas was a busy man and had given the task, and the needed funds, to a joyful Vicenta.

  Isabella passed through the stables on her way back, wanting to retrieve the currycomb she’d left behind earlier in the day and put it back in the tack room. A stranger lurked nearby, talking to one of their vaqueros. He removed his hat when she approached, and she recognized him as Pablo, the majordomo of Rancho de Los Lagos.

  “Señor Pablo, you’re looking well. Are you here to buy more cattle for Señor de la Vega?”

  “No, señorita. I have come to deliver a message.” He slid a glance toward the vaquero.

  “Then come with me. I’ll take you to my father. I believe he may still be in his study.”

  He nodded and followed, but when they were out of sight, he pulled her toward the outer wall of the hacienda. “I deliver a message from Señor Gabriel.”

  Her heart stopped. Had Gabriel heard of her betrothal? Certainly not. She had only been given the news this morning.

  His voice low, he spoke close to her ear. “I know not how, but Gabriel is planning to escape. He said to pack a bag and be ready. He will come for you at midnight tonight, and you will meet a ship that will be anchored off the mouth of the river that runs near the pueblo. You’ll be married as soon as you reach the next port.”

  “What? But he is innocent. Will he not be thought guilty if he runs away?”

  “He claims Antoine Santoro is the one who committed the crimes. The man has bribed officials to keep Gabriel in the jail and forget he is there.”

  “Señor de la Vega permits this?”

  Pablo hung his head. “Sadly, my esteemed employer has been blinded by this nonsense. Santoro has presented false witnesses to convince him Gabriel is guilty. As you know, he has been rebellious and willful, foolish at times. But he is no ravisher of young girls, and no murderer. I stake my life on it.” He studied her face. Perhaps he thought she might faint at his suggestion. “Are you willing, señorita? I find it an outrageous request, if I may be permitted to say so.”

  Excitement made every nerve vibrate. She was normally an obedient daughter, but this was too important. An elopement? It was simply not done. Papa would not change his mind about her upcoming marriage, and she could no longer wait for Gabriel to be cleared. “Yes. I’ll be ready. Where should I wait?”

  “He said to be in your special place. And, señorita, if for some reason you are not there, he will have to continue. Once it is discovered he is gone, they will hunt him, and he will have to make haste.”

  “I understand.”

  Pablo’s gaze seemed to soften. “You are like Señorita Sorina. Ready for adventure. I hope you and Gabriel find peace.”

  “Thank you, Pablo. Now I must take you to Papa because he will be told of your arrival.”

  “I do have business. A small flock of sheep is ready to be sheared if he is in need of wool.”

  He followed her into the complex, where Papa greeted him, allowing her to escape to her room. Could she do this? Her shame would be great, and Papa and Vicenta would never again allow her name to be spoken. Her brothers in the north would vilify her, and she and Gabriel would never be welcome in their homes.

  Disobedience was not tolerated in Mexican society, and punishments were harsh. Every unmarried girl had a chaperone with her constantly to keep her out of trouble. Because Isabella’s duenna was her stepmother—a woman with many other duties—she’d been able to slip out on her own, supposedly in the company of her maid. Catalina had a romantic heart and sympathized with her mistress, making excuses for her on occasion.

  Catalina would not condone an elopement. The consequences would be dire for them both.

  Alone in her room, she packed a valise small enough to be carried on a horse easily, because the journey from their rancho to the river mouth would take several hours. If she had her own horse they might get there sooner, but she suspected they would ride together. The risk of removing her horse from the stable would be too great.

  She shoved the valise under the bed and picked up her embroidery. Forcing herself to take deep breaths, she concentrated on the tiny stitches, willing her frantic heartbeats to slow. She must appear to be calm.

  At least now she wouldn’t have to feign happiness. She and Gabriel would be married! She was giddy at the thought.

  She’d nearly finished her pattern when called to dinner. Papa and Vicenta were in high spirits, commenting on her good fortune, telling her about the life she would have as the grand lady of Rancho de Los Arboles.

  “I am so pleased you aren’t resisting my choice,” Papa said, sipping from his wine glass. “Thomas’s age was a concern, but consider Arcadia Bandini. She is quite happy with Señor Abel Stearns, and their age difference is much the same.”

  “Yes, Father.” Arcadia had been fourteen when she’d married Stearns, who’d been forty-three. It had been much remarked on by society at the time, although the church allowed girls as young as eleven to be married. Don Tomas was fifty-two, one year older than Papa, but she didn’t dare mention it.

  When the meal ended, she excused herself and allowed Catalina to help her to bed. Once the door was closed, she took off her nightgown and dressed in warm clothing, wondering if she should leave a note or just disappear. Papa would think she’d run away until the news of Gabriel’s escape reached their ranch. Then he would know what she had done because Vicenta, who had occasionally scolded her for dancing too often with Gabriel, would tell him.

  She glanced at the ornate French clock on her dresser, noting two hours until midnight. Should she be early?

  She forced herself to sit in the chair, but thoughts of what she was about to do made her jump up and pace the wooden floor. She picked up the rosary next to her hairbrush and clutched it, praying as she paced, asking God to guide her. Tears burned her eyes, and still she paced. Back and forth.

  Was she doing the right thing? Could she renounce everything she’d been raised to do? Gabriel made her feel—really feel—for the first time. His kisses enflamed her. His hands had touched her in intimate places, leaving a trail of longing. He’d told her he loved her, and she believed him.

  But he never formally offered for me.

  Throat tight and heart heavy, she shrugged off the unwelcome thought, bundled up in her warmest cloak, and picked up her valise. Sneaking out of the house at night was not a problem. Papa and Vicenta were sound sleepers, and the vaqueros who watched over their compound at night were closer to the stable and corral.

  The stars were bright, and she knew the way. She reached her secret haven in record time. The hour had to be close to midnight, but she saw no one. She sat down to wait, hoping God would not punish her for this shocking disobedience.

  She thought about holy vengeance later, as the stars faded and the sun prepared to peek over the farthest mountain. Her limbs were frozen as she ambled home and sneaked back into the house, barely able to stifle the sobs wracking her.

  He must have been caught.

  Two days later, when she learned he had successfully escaped and was now a wanted man, the nature of her pain changed.

  He’d toyed with her, led her to think she was important to him. In the end, he mu
st have thought she’d be a liability and abandoned the plan.

  He hadn’t come.

  She would never forgive him.

  Chapter 6

  Lance and Sorina’s ball, August 1847

  Isabella blinked as her memory of Gabriel’s treachery faded. The music had stopped, but Gabriel kept moving, twirling her out an open door into the garden, where the scent of blooming roses filled the air. Isabella inhaled deeply, enjoying their fragrance despite her annoyance with him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Dancing.”

  “There is no sound.”

  His breath was warm against her ear. “Of course there is. Do you not hear the crickets? They’re calling to their companions, letting them know it’s a beautiful night. Their chirps are like castanets. Let your body move to the rhythm of their cadence.”

  Isabella stilled and dropped her arms, forcing her partner to stop. Gabriel continued to hold her, his warm hands moving up to her shoulders. She couldn’t see his face in the dark but imagined his mocking smile. Gabriel knew Christopher must be searching for her and was determined to thwart him.

  His hands swept up her neck and cupped the sides of her face. His palms were rough . . . not the hands of the idle ranchero he claimed to be.

  “Let me go,” she said.

  “You may leave at any time.”

  “I need to get back.”

  “Do you? What’s your hurry, my dear? Anxious to be in the arms of the handsome Captain Sutherland? The ball has just begun. He’ll wait.”

  “We shouldn’t be out here. My obligation to open the first set with you is finished. I have no other duties with you tonight.”

  “No?” His lips were soft as his mouth covered hers, and she found herself opening to him, as if the past six years hadn’t happened. His tongue traced the inside of her lips, and she moaned and pressed herself against his chest, reaching around his back as the kiss deepened. Fire licked through her.

  Will he always affect me this way?

  She was no longer a young girl bedazzled by the first stirrings of love. At four and twenty, she was a matron long past her prime, a woman who should know better.

  She wrenched free, her breath coming in heavy gasps. “You are no gentleman.”

  “And you are no lady, my love.”

  She slapped him, her palm stinging with the force. Turning, she stumbled toward the still-open door. Where were these ambivalent feelings coming from? She had hated him for so long, and now she seemed to crave him.

  The musicians played scattered notes as they prepared for the next dance. If she hurried, she’d find Christopher before he thought to search for her in the garden. When she paused to compose herself, her eyes lit on the captain striding toward her, a broad smile on his face.

  “There you are. I was wondering where you’d gone.”

  “Getting a breath of fresh air,” she said.

  “Your face is flushed. Would you prefer to sit this one out?” His tone was heavy with concern.

  “Absolutely not. I have been looking forward to our dance.”

  He bowed and held out his hand. “Shall we join the others?”

  They moved to their places for a popular Mexican dance done in two lines, the partners facing one another. Isabella knew the steps of La Raspa by heart, so her mind was free to dwell on the events in the garden.

  She despised herself for being weak around a man who showed her no respect and demonstrated no remorse for his actions. They’d never spoken of his betrayal, because she’d always assumed he was amusing himself by seeing how much he could get away with.

  She’d been warned over and over by her stepmother—do not be fooled by his gentlemanly demeanor, his stylish clothes, his exciting exploits on the rodeo grounds. Gabriel de la Vega was not what he seemed. He had a wild, impulsive streak that his own father could not curb.

  Sitting with other matrons at social gatherings long after he’d gone away, she’d continued to hear gossip. Poor Señor Vega, his only son was such a disappointment. By fleeing he’d confirmed his guilt.

  But by the time he’d returned, the gossip had long since died, and a new rumor was put forth that someone had wanted to silence him to cover their own crimes and had bribed corrupt officials to keep him jailed. She knew that rumor, because she had repeated it in company many times, at the request of Sorina.

  Isabella had never believed the lies about his guilt. Her lingering anger stemmed from the fact that Gabriel had promised to marry her, asked her to elope with him, but instead disappeared. Why had he sent Pablo if he’d never intended to fetch her?

  After that, she’d willingly married Tomas, a man who had been kind and respectful and careful with her feelings, a man she had grown to love in her own way.

  A laughing Captain Sutherland crossed the space between them, grasped her arms, and twirled her in the final promenade of the dance. As the music ended, he bowed formally, and she accepted his proffered arm.

  “I’m famished. How about you?” His hair was tousled, and his cheeks were flushed. She liked this man so much. If only she felt more.

  “Let us find a chair first,” she said. “I’m a bit breathless.”

  “My wish is the same.”

  She slanted a glance at the head table, but Gabriel was not there. He might still be in the garden, recovering from her slap. The feel of his flesh against her palm had given her momentary pleasure, but it didn’t last. The act was out of character for her. Besides, he hadn’t deserved it, because he’d been right.

  He makes me forget I’m a lady.

  They found the chairs behind the palms unoccupied, and Isabella sat while Christopher procured refreshments. Her head was beginning to throb again, and she wondered if Sorina would even notice if she absented herself early.

  “Here you are.” He handed her a glass of champagne, but her stomach lurched at the mere thought of it.

  “I find I’m not feeling well, Christopher. Would you be so kind as to escort me to my room?” She smiled, hoping he would not be offended by her leave-taking.

  “Of course.” He frowned and studied her face. “It’s not something serious, I hope. I understand tomorrow’s rodeo is not to be missed.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine tomorrow. I was a bit indisposed earlier, and I’m afraid the feeling has returned.”

  Instead of leaving it on the table, he poured the champagne in the potted palm and escorted her across the room to the doors leading to the lobby. While he assisted her up the stairs, her head began to pound, and she was suddenly grateful her room was close.

  Standing outside her door, he hesitated, then reached down and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Forgive me, but I couldn’t help myself.”

  “You are certainly forgiven, Christopher. I apologize for not being a better companion.”

  “Until tomorrow, then.” He bowed and headed down the hall.

  Isabella sighed and rapped at the door. Her maid had been instructed to remain in the room to discourage any would-be thieves. It was a lawless time in Los Angeles, and with changes happening so quickly, many were nervous, not knowing what was safe and what was not. The door opened, and Isabella hurried into the dimly lit room, looking straight ahead as she discarded her shawl and her jeweled comb on a nearby chair.

  “Is there anything left to eat, Catalina? I vow I will faint dead away if I don’t have something quickly. See if those headache powders Sorina’s great-aunt promised have arrived. I am sorely in need.”

  She slipped off her gloves and felt hands unbuttoning her gown. When they reached the laces of her corset, she froze. The hands at her back were not small and deft, but callused.

  Whirling around, she gasped. “You!”

  A laughing Gabriel stood there in his sh
irtsleeves, one eyebrow raised. “Am I doing something wrong? I always thought I was adept at removing ladies’ gowns.”

  “How did you get in here? Where is Catalina?”

  He raised one hand in front of his face, palm out. “Enough. One question at a time. I was on an errand of mercy. Tía Consuelo sent me with a special tisane in case your stomach ailment returned, but Catalina said you expected headache powders, so I sent her to get them. I’m happy to be of service, guarding your room in her absence, my dear. Now, anything else you want to know?”

  Suddenly the thought of a tisane, powder, laudanum, anything was better than standing in her dishabille, fighting with a man she’d known her entire life. Her fatigue must have shown on her face.

  His smile turned serious. “Come with me.” He led her to the sofa and seated her, moving the footstool to settle her legs on top. One sleeve of her dress had slipped off her shoulder, and she didn’t even care. She was grateful for his assistance. Her head pounded like it was full of marching feet.

  She closed her eyes, aware of Gabriel moving quietly about the room. The clink of silverware on a plate made her open her eyes.

  “Here.” He held a forkful of wedding cake in his hand. It smelled wonderful, but she wasn’t sure it would stay down.

  “What if it doesn’t agree with me?”

  He sat next to her, the fork still in front of her mouth. “It will help. It’s not too sweet, but it will fill those holes in your stomach that are begging for food. Do you hear them growling, like bears?”

  She giggled. She couldn’t help herself. The food slid into her mouth and the vanilla taste seemed to be agreeable. He fed her another mouthful, this time with his hand. Her lips closed over his finger, and his eyes widened. Once the cake was consumed, he brought her the remains of her afternoon tea, and she began to feel a bit better.