Return of the Fox

by Pamela Gibson

  “Okay, okay, I’ll do this the way you said. That cash better be in the usual place . . . half before and half after.”

  “It will.”

  “Then I guess I don’t have nuthin’ more to say.”

  Spurs jangled as the man strode off while Logan loosened his collar. Sweat beaded his brow.

  He’s afraid. He can’t handle the bastard.

  Gabriel was afraid, too. There was only one young woman in the sala, and it was Isabella. What were they planning? Would he have time to warn her, and would she even be willing to listen after their last exchange?

  He slid out of the room when the coast was clear, hell-bent on finding Isabella and shaking her if necessary to make her listen. She was in danger. Not from Logan or the banker, although he wouldn’t put it past them to harm her if it suited them. Her peril came from the man whose face he hadn’t seen.

  The man seemed ruthless and unpredictable. And all he knew about him was his voice and the sound made by his spurs.

  What the hell is going on, and what can I do about it?

  He didn’t know the answer to the first question, but he knew the answer to the second. If Isabella needed him, he would be there. If she’d let him. At the moment they weren’t on the best of terms.

  By God, I have to get through to her.

  Chapter 11

  Gabriel limped back along the corridor while hot pokers hammered against his ribs and his calf. The excitement of the moment had definitely worn off. He wouldn’t be hiking out to the barbecue area after all, even to watch the end of the race, but Sorina and Lance could give out the final awards. If anyone came searching for him, he would sigh and tell them he was overcome by his alarming experience.

  I need to find Isabella.

  She was no longer in the sala, nor was the duenna who had watched over her. Tía Consuelo wasn’t the only one who made sure Isabella’s reputation was protected in the event a male entered the room. The women watched out for one another. It was ingrained in their culture.

  A sharp pain stabbed him in the chest with every breath. He hoped Isabella wasn’t feeling as rough as he did. If she was, she might have moved to a guest chamber for a proper rest. His father was in one, but there were others. The hacienda was extensive. He’d have to search.

  A cheer from the crowd told him a scout had brought news of the race. It would be at least twenty minutes before the competitors reached the finish line, so very few spectators would leave the hill before then. The suspense would keep them there, that and wondering if their pockets would be lighter or heavier with the outcome.

  Gabriel retraced his steps back toward the bedchambers. Finding a servant, he asked quickly if one had been assigned for Señora Fuentes’s use.

  “She did not want a bedchamber, señor. She said she would rest in the sala.”

  “The señora is not there. Have you seen her?”

  “No, señor, but there is a dining room in the next wing. Perhaps she is taking nourishment.”

  “Thank you.”

  He moved as fast as he could with an impaired leg until he found the turn that led to the other wing. Pain, followed by a bout of nausea, forced him to sit on a rough wooden bench situated against the wall. When the world stopped tilting, he bent forward, holding his head in his hands.

  If only I could take a deep breath.

  He righted himself, loosened his neckcloth, and opened his shirt. Red scrapes surrounded by a deeper welt that was turning purple made him wince. No wonder he couldn’t breathe. Isabella’s soft body wouldn’t have caused that. When he threw himself over her, part of him must have landed on a rock.

  Heavy, booted feet rounded the corner and came into his line of vision. Glancing up through his fingers, he saw, of all people, Captain Sutherland.

  “Señor Vega, are you all right?” He frowned, sounding genuinely concerned. “Were you injured?”

  “I was. But it is nothing of concern.” Gabriel removed his hands from his face, leaning back on the bench, trying to assume a leisurely pose in spite of the pain. “The bull was frightening, was it not? When I saw dear Isabella in the way, I was nearly overcome. It’s a wonder my feet did not freeze to the ground.”

  Captain Sutherland sat next to Gabriel and turned to face him. “You do appear a bit pale, sir. Perhaps you should have the coach take you back to the hotel.”

  “Yes, that would be best, I think. The race is not yet over?”

  “Not yet, but a runner brought news that Bolero is in the lead, as expected.” He peered into Gabriel’s face as he spoke.

  How embarrassing to have Isabella’s admirer treating him like an aging invalid when all he wanted to do was plant him a facer for stupidly taking her close to the bull. “Where is Señora Fuentes? I thought she might be with you, Captain, although you must be more careful in the future when there is a lady in your care.”

  It felt good to deliver a blow, even a verbal one. Sutherland understood exactly what he was saying. He hung his head and swallowed. “You are right, señor. I am completely at fault. I should have been watching over dear Isabella. I have not seen her since her accident.” He ran his hand over his head, a nervous gesture Gabriel had seen before.

  “Then you must find her,” said Gabriel, assuming his sternest look. “She is a strong woman, but she could have a relapse, Captain.” Gabriel shook his finger for emphasis. “You would not want that to happen, would you?”

  The captain seemed chastened. “No. No. I’ll go find her immediately.” He stood. “Say, you don’t by chance know where she is? This is my first visit to this ranch, and I’m unfamiliar with its layout.”

  “A servant told me she recovered and planned to rejoin the spectators on the hill. She must have gone there to find you.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be off then.” He hurried back the way he’d come.

  Gabriel wanted to chuckle, but it hurt too much. He’d had bruised ribs before, and the pain would eventually wear off. Instead he gritted his teeth and continued toward the dining hall. If Isabella was at all recovered, that was where she would be. Despite her pickiness of late, the woman he’d known in the past loved to eat. A good meal always found favor with her, and the roasting meat covered with sprigs of rosemary smelled divine. His stomach growled in response to his thoughts, reminding him he, too, had missed the lavish barbecue.

  The first few doors along the corridor were an office and a library. The third was a parlor, similar to the one Isabella had used earlier, but larger and more ornate, with a small piano dominating the far end of the room. The room he wanted was next.

  Peering inside, he saw Isabella chatting with the woman who had been sewing earlier. Both sat at the far end of a long oak table. Gabriel recalled eight visitors were staying with the owners of the hacienda. In addition to opening their homes to travelers, rancheros often had dozens of relatives living with them. The older woman was probably one of the relations who resided here.

  He sauntered in, startling both women.

  “Señor Vega, what are you doing here?” Isabella’s voice told him she had not yet forgiven his earlier bad manners.

  “I am in search of food. My ordeal has left me quite famished.” For effect, he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. “I thought I might join you. My exertions have quite depleted me.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I see. By all means sit down.”

  The older woman got up and waddled toward the door. “I shall find a servant and tell him there will be one other joining us.”

  When she left, Gabriel closed the door the woman had left open intentionally. He turned to Isabella. “I must speak to you in private.”

  “Why, so you can berate me about the company I keep? Or will it be my deplorable behavior in daring to move closer to the entertainments? Or maybe it’s my weight agai
n. You seemed to want to comment on that when I saw you outside the church yesterday.”

  She glared at him, but her demeanor changed when he stumbled toward the table. “Gabriel, what’s wrong?” She stood and helped him to a chair. “Your skin is gray. Do not faint and fall on me.”

  He looked her in the eye. “As delightful as it would be to have your body writhing beneath me, querida, I’m afraid you are quite safe. My own body is not happy with my earlier heroics.”

  “I see that. I also see you are in need of a new pair of trousers.” She caught his chin in her palm and studied his face.

  Her fingers were gentle and reminded him of other days when her open palms had spread over his arms, tracing the muscles there before moving to his bare chest. He remembered the feel of her fingers closing over his cock, stroking it lovingly before he grabbed her hand so he wouldn’t embarrass himself.

  Warmth snaked into his groin, swelling him. He took a deep breath and swallowed, setting the memory aside. The older woman would return any moment, and he had questions that must be answered now that Isabella no longer seemed hostile.

  “Tell me what your business is with Drake Logan.”

  She removed her hand from his face and went back to her chair. “Why?”

  “When I was in the storeroom next to the cocina, I overheard Logan talking to another man about you. The man was someone he called Slade. It sounded like they were planning something that involved you.” He studied Isabella’s face. She seemed perplexed.

  “Why were you in the storeroom?”

  “Just answer my question.”

  She sighed. “Drake Logan wants to buy my property. He thinks I’m an illiterate, unprotected widow who knows nothing about business. He’s told me I will suffer financially once the Americans are fully in control, and that he wants to save me by taking my property off my hands. Slade is one of his associates.” She stared hard at him. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “If it involves people who are not, shall we say, the most upstanding citizens, then it is my business.” He studied her mouth. Even frowning, her lips were full and inviting. He wished he could reach over and gently lay his own on them, even for a moment. But something told him she would not be receptive.

  “Has he threatened you?”

  “No, but he is persistent and annoying.”

  “Let me help you, Isabella.”

  “I am not your problem, Gabriel. When will you get that through your head? I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, my people, and my property, and under Mexican law I have a legal right to do so. The American military governors have left the Mexican legal system in place. Logan cannot make me sell.”

  “I know you are capable, but we live in a different world now. People are pouring into the territory. If it makes you feel any better, you aren’t the only one I’m concerned about.”

  “Then take care of the others, Gabriel. Let me take care of this. I promise you, if need be I will consult you first, especially if I come across a property matter I don’t understand. I had already decided you would be my best source of information.”

  The stubborn lower lip was out. He wouldn’t win this argument. Not today.

  “Then take this as a warning. I am uneasy about the man Slade. I sensed evil intent, just like I did whenever I was around Santoro.”

  Isabella shuddered and turned away. Gabriel knew she was acquainted with the true nature of the late Antoine Santoro, who had made both Gabriel and Sorina’s lives miserable. While Santoro was gone. Others remained.

  The door opened, and two servants with laden trays arrived. Bowls of steaming rice and a platter of roast beef were accompanied by freshly-made tortillas and a board containing small-clustered grapes and dried figs. A veritable feast.

  “You both seem very hungry,” said the woman, who introduced herself to Gabriel as Señora Garcia, a relative of Maria Ygnacia Verdugo de Feliz, who owned the rancho.

  “You have no idea, señora.” Gabriel slanted a glance at Isabella, who had the grace to blush at his pointed innuendo.

  “Eat. Do not let the food get cold.” She sat in her place while a servant poured wine from a glass pitcher.

  Gabriel sighed and lifted the first forkful of shredded beef into his mouth. He needn’t worry about Isabella’s safety here. When he finished, he was going to find the sofa vacated by Isabella and allow his body the rest it screamed for. Perhaps her scent would be on the pillows. Hopefully, the wine would ease his aches and help him sleep.

  He would allow memories of her to return then.

  Once he was home, he would take charge of the situation. Isabella was too independent for her own good. She needed him.

  And, God help him, he needed her, too.

  Chapter 12

  How could a man provoke her and excite her in the same conversation?

  Isabella shook her head in exasperation. Gabriel was dangerous, a threat to her peace of mind.

  She was not a lovesick maiden, hanging on his every word. She was a grown woman who knew who she was and what she wanted from life.

  It could not be Gabriel de la Vega.

  Isabella finished her meal and slanted a glance at her tormentor.

  For all her bluster, when she reflected on the past few days, she knew without a doubt he could be important to her again. He was a trial, yes, but he was also her guardian angel. What would have happened to her if he had not thrown her out of the way of the bull?

  She shuddered and let out a held breath. All those pent-up feelings from years ago were still lurking beneath the surface. She’d known it months ago when he strolled into his father’s parlor after a prolonged absence, like he’d just returned from a walk. His eyes still sparkled with mischief, and his perfect teeth still drew her when he smiled. For some reason, he seemed to believe he needed to hide his virility with well-chosen insipid words and dandified clothes.

  Yet his strength was as much a part of him as his swagger. It tugged her like an invisible bond because she knew what it was like to be cherished by him.

  Gabriel paused—fork in midair—both eyebrows raised. “Is something amiss?”

  “No.” She dropped her napkin beside her plate and pushed back her chair.

  “You were staring. Do I have food on my chin?”

  “I’ve had enough.”

  “Enough food, or enough of my company?”

  “Señor Vega . . . I can never have too much of a man’s instructive conversation. Is that not true, Señora Garcia?”

  The older woman nodded and stuffed a handful of olives into her mouth, more intent on her dining than talking.

  Isabella smirked as Gabriel dabbed his chin. He did a good job portraying the dandified, petulant son of a rich ranchero, too accustomed to his comforts to pay attention to the rogues around him. Here he was, putting on a show for Señora Garcia. Or maybe it was for the servants hovering in the background.

  “I believe I shall take my leave.” She stood, as did he, ever the gentleman.

  “I will remain here and find a good spot to nap. Perhaps the place you vacated, dear lady?”

  “I believe it’s available. Enjoy your siesta.” Leaving the door open, she strolled into the corridor and headed for the corrals.

  She saw no one lurking in the shadows. If she was in peril, nothing would happen to her today. She had to admit Gabriel made a good point. Even with her education and her skills, she was no match for unscrupulous men determined to take her property away from her. Her servants were loyal, her vaqueros numerous, but they weren’t always around.

  If only I knew why they want my land so badly. And why now?

  She made her way out to the hill where some of the women still sat. Captain Sutherland was not there, thank goodness. She couldn’t cope with him right now.
Sitting on the blanket next to Sorina’s great-aunt, Isabella nodded to acquaintances, assuring them she was sore but fully recovered.

  The air thrummed with excitement as horses thundered toward the finish line. The third and final race was finishing, and only two contenders—the winners of the first and second heats—competed. She shifted to get a better view, seeing the favorite neck and neck with a horse named Caballero. The crowd yelled when Caballero inched over the line to win the race.

  The women applauded while some groaned, knowing their husbands had backed the favorite, who lost.

  Remembering conversations with Gabriel, Isabella wondered how long these women would be able to sustain the lifestyle they’d always enjoyed. Many of their husbands were in denial, refusing to acknowledge the changes that were already part of the new regime. Borrowing heavily to pay off gambling debts, they now had to deal with interest, a concept unknown to them before. What would happen to them when they couldn’t pay?

  She could make herself ill with worry if she continued. She would not. Today was the end of the festivities celebrating her friend’s wedding. It was supposed to be a happy day. She would be gay for Sorina’s sake. Tomorrow was a day of rest, and the following morning she would take her leave and go back to her ranch. She would have plenty of time to worry then.

  As if Isabella’s thoughts had drawn her, Sorina appeared from the crowd, smiling. “There you are. I knew you’d come back. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m a little stiff, but I’ll live.”

  “Where is the captain? He was looking for you earlier.”

  “I haven’t seen him. I was lying down for a bit, and then I had a small repast. I’m sure we’ll see each other before I return to my ranch.”

  Sorina frowned. “Lance and I are staying at the hotel until the end of the week. Can you not stay, too?”