Diablo's Angel

by Donna Fletcher

  Rosa sent a worried look her way.

  She knew her thoughts. There wasn’t any time for delay. She had to wed before her pregnancy was made known.

  As if the baby intended to remind her of his presence, a bout of nausea hit Crista and had her hurrying to her feet. “Excuse me, I’m not feeling well.”

  Valerianna rushed to her feet and went after her daughter, her face a tight mask of worry.

  Alejandro turned his glance from his wife’s retreating back to his empty plate in front of him on the table. “It breaks my heart to see what Crista goes through only having returned home. It might be better if we send her back to Spain and find her a husband there.”

  “No, Padre,” Esteban protested. “We finally have her home. We cannot send her away again.”

  Rosa was quick to agree with her husband. “Esteban is right. Crista has been away from family far too long. She belongs here with us. We will help her through this.”

  “There is no helping her through this. She will not only be ostracized, but the family will be as well. That means that grandchild of mine you carry will have no friends. Do you want that for him? I doubt very much that Crista does.” He stood, throwing his cloth napkin down on his plate. “I’ve already received a note from Don Navarro expressing his regret for not being able to call on Crista today and that he will be in touch to arrange another time. Something I highly doubt he’ll do.”

  Don Alejandro walked out of the dining room, his shoulders hunched, his head bent, looking more a defeated man than Esteban had ever seen him.

  “Perhaps father is right,” Esteban said. “Perhaps the best solution for Crista is to return to Spain where none of this is known.”

  Knowing that Crista was with child Rosa thought the same but remained silent, wishing there was a way out of this awful ordeal for her sister-in-law she had come to love.

  Chapter 23

  A week after the fire Crista was summoned to her father’s study. She approached the door with apprehension. It had been difficult for everyone, the rumors growing each day, laying blame on her, while gossip spread that Sofia and Don Navarro would soon make an announcement.

  Not for one moment did Crista believe that, though she had no doubt that Ana did. She had waited on the terrace each night for Diablo to come to her, but he hadn’t. Having given the situation thought, she concluded that his sudden absence had to have something to do with the attack on the hacienda. And that worried her. Had he gone in search of who had been responsible? What if something had happened to him? Her thoughts troubled her and the only thing she could do was to stay strong until he returned.

  She knocked on the study door and entered. Her father sat behind his desk and Esteban stood to his right. The sun cast a soft glow through the window reminding her of the times when she had been summoned to Mother Abbess’s study, the glow much the same like now. And also much the same that whatever the summons, it was meant to be obeyed.

  “Sit, Crista,” her father said, pointing to the leather and wood chair in front of his desk.

  She gladly did, her legs feeling weak while trying to keep her resolve strong.

  “Your mother and I have talked and considered what would be best for you and we’ve concluded that you should return to Spain—to the convent—for now. You will leave at the end of the week. You can return home when things calm down here.”

  Crista heard the mountain loin roar in her head and she stood. “I’m not going to Spain, Father. I’m staying here and living my life as I choose.”

  “This is not a request, Crista, you will do as you are told,” her father said firmly.

  “No, I will not. You sent me away once, you’ll not send me away again. You will have to tie and gag me to get me on that ship and even if you do, I will be on the next ship home. I am not leaving here. I won’t let vicious rumors and lies drive me from my home.”

  She thought she caught a hint of admiration on her brother’s face.

  “These vicious rumors—”

  Crista interrupted her father. “Will eventually die and life will go on. Maybe differently than before, but life will still go on.”

  “Your mother and I do this for your own good. You will be safe at the convent,” her father said.

  “Safe?” Crista didn’t think twice of lifting the hem of her dress and exposing her scarred leg. She’d had enough of the lies. It was time her family knew the truth, though she would make no mention of Ricardo and Lucia. “This is how safe I was at the convent.”

  “Madre de dios,” Esteban said, coming from around the desk to glare at the scars along her leg.

  Her father stood, leaning over the desk, shaking his head. “What happened?”

  Crista detailed her ordeal, leaving nothing of that night out, not her pain, not her tears, and not her screams for her father… a memory she had never shared with anyone.

  Her father paled and was so shaken he had to sit.

  “While it has healed, I wonder… does it continue to pain you?” Esteban asked concern clear in his voice.

  “Si, at times, but I have learned well to deal with it,” she admitted, finding herself relieved to have told them about it. She let the hem of her dress drop to cover her leg. “I survived a painful ordeal in Spain. I also survived being taken by outlaws once home. I will not run from these rumors as if I were guilty. I will keep my head high along with my respect. I hope you will do the same.”

  Esteban smiled. “My Rosa told me we should not underestimate your strength, and she was right. You are a courageous woman, little one.”

  Crista smiled at her brother, pleased by his words.

  The door flew open without a knock, Valerianna rushing into the room, Chavez following behind her.

  “Don Navarro was called away on business and only heard of the vicious rumors about our Crista upon his return. He wishes to wed Crista immediately and end the false assault on her good name.” Having rushed her words out in one breath, Valerianna’s chest heaved in a much needed breath and with much needed relief.

  Crista smiled partly because her mother behaved so improperly, almost shouting out Chavez’s intentions instead of quietly announcing that he wished to speak to Don Cesare on a most important matter. But mostly her smile was for seeing that Diablo had come to her rescue once again.

  “Don Cesare,” Chavez said with a respectful nod to the man. “I was horrified to discover what was being said about Crista on my return home. I lost my heart to your daughter when I first saw her and I would have properly courted her and when appropriate would have asked for permission to marry her. Unfortunately, I don’t believe that would now be prudent. I ask permission to wed Crista immediately.”

  “I will gladly wed you, Don Navarro, since I lost my heart—nearly on first sight—to you as well,” Crista said a quick quirk of her brow reminding him that their first encounter found her terrified of him.

  “Crista,” Valerianna scolded lightly. “Don Navarro is asking your father’s permission which is proper, not yours.”

  “But I’m the one who will wed him not father, so therefore, it is my choice.”

  Valerianna shook her head in dismay. “I thought the nuns taught you well.”

  “They did, Madre, far better than you know,” Crista said and turned to look at her father. “Besides, I believe father would agree most willingly with Don Navarro’s proposal.”

  “How could I refuse when you both love each other,” her father said with a smile.

  Crista didn’t hesitate, seeing the regret and guilt in his aging eyes over what had happened to her at the convent, and she hurried to his side and gave him a hug. It wasn’t a proper response, but then she hadn’t been proper since leaving the convent and most certainly she hadn’t been proper since her return home.

  “I am grateful, Padre,” she whispered and kissed his cheek.

  Tears threatened his eyes as he whispered, “I wish—”

  “I know you would have been there if you could have,” she mu
rmured and kissed his cheek again before stepping away.

  “Come, Crista,” her mother ordered. “We leave the men to discuss the marriage arrangement.”

  Her mother’s dire look warned her to hold her tongue and do what was expected of her, but it was the look she was far too familiar with from Diablo that had her obeying her mother. His dark eyes not only warned of obedience, but also sparked with passion. He had missed her and no doubt would ask for time alone with her.

  Though not wanting to take a chance of that not happening, she spoke up, “I hope to have a few moments with you before you take your leave, Don Chavez.”

  “Crista!” her mother scolded again. “That is not a proper request.”

  Chavez smiled and her heart fluttered madly in her chest at the playfulness she saw there.

  “It is quite all right, Dona Valerianna,” Chavez said and settled his eyes directly on Crista. “I quite look forward to taming your daughter’s spirited nature.”

  Crista burst out laughing to everyone’s complete surprise, though not Chavez. His eyes gleamed with a wicked challenge.

  “Not likely,” Crista said and was once again reprimanded by her mother as she hurried Crista out of the room.

  “I fear my daughter may be a handful,” her father said as her mother took hold of the door handle to close it.

  Crista heard Chavez’s response before the door shut.

  “Actually, Don Cesare, Crista’s spirited nature is something I love and admire about her.”

  Crista’s smile grew along with flutters in her heart. She loved that man beyond reason and for the first time since returning home she was overwhelmed by happiness at finally being here.

  It was a beautiful day. The sun was warm upon the skin and a light breeze filled the air, sweet scents from the multitude of flowers drifting along on it. Crista tried to be patient and enjoy the lovely day and her equally lovely surroundings, but she was eager to see Diablo.

  She shook her head. She had to stop thinking of him as Diablo or one day she might slip and call him that. She had to let go of Diablo and think only of Chavez. Unfortunately, it was more difficult to do than she had thought. She had spent time with Diablo, had come to know him, love him. She had yet to spend any significant time with Chavez. Once she did, she felt it would be easier to let Diablo go.

  Sadness overwhelmed her at the thought, but she reasoned that time would change that.

  “Crista.”

  Of course, it didn’t help when he caressed her name that way. She turned and though Chavez approached, she saw Diablo.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, stopping far too close to her than was appropriate. “And don’t tell me nothing. I can see in your eyes that something troubles you?” His eyes narrowed in worry and he kept his voice to a whisper. “Is it the baby? Are you not feeling well?”

  Crista looked past him to see her mother lingering near the doors to the patio, keeping a watchful eye on them, though making no effort to see that an appropriate distance was kept between them. It wasn’t absolutely necessary now that her mother was confident they would wed and soon.

  “The baby does well as do I. I’ve been impatient to know what you discussed with my father.”

  “I see more than impatience that concerns you in your eyes,” he challenged with a smile. “You will tell me.”

  Crista’s grin challenged as well. “Do I have a choice?”

  “No,” he said, his smile fading. “I will know so that I can help ease whatever troubles you.”

  “To do that you would have to take me in your arms and hold me close and you can’t do that right now.”

  “Don’t challenge me, mi amor, for if that is what you need that is what I will give you.”

  Crista stepped a safe distance away from him, fearful he would take her in his arms and even more fearful she would not stop him.

  “It is a small worry yet one that could prove disastrous.”

  Chavez remained where he stood, his arms aching to hold her. “Tell me.”

  She closed her eyes briefly the terse, short command coming from… “Diablo,” she whispered so low that she could barely hear herself. “I fear that name will slip from my tongue in the presence of others.”

  “That could be explained away easily,” he said and held his hand out to her.

  She didn’t hesitate in grabbing hold of his hand, having ached to feel his strength and warmth, and let him guide her to sit on the bench. Only then she asked, “How so?”

  “You spent weeks with the outlaw, of course, his name would slip unbidden from your tongue on occasion. It is nothing for you to worry about. In time, the name Chavez will slip easily and without thought from your lips.”

  No doubt it would and Diablo would become a name from the past, though memories would linger.

  “We wed next Saturday,” he said.

  “How can that be? The priest will never allow such a quick marriage. Banns must be read and—”

  “As I promised your father, and he clearly understood as I’m sure you will, there will be no problem. The priest will wed us.”

  Crista did understand. Chavez would offer a substantial donation to the church and the priest would gladly wed them.

  “The only problem is arranging a wedding celebration in such a short time,” Chavez said as if challenging her to do so.

  Crista laughed softly and cast a look in her mother’s direction. “This is what my mother has waited for, what she wants for me, and she will hold her head high and be proud that the man who every mother wanted as a husband for their available daughter chose her daughter over all the others. You’ve made her very happy.”

  “And you, Crista? Are you happy?”

  Crista thought a minute.

  “You hesitate.”

  “With all that has happened, I will be happy when we are finally husband and wife,” she said, a small part of her worrying that it might never be.

  Chavez leaned his head down near hers, his voice low yet firm. “Do I need to remind you again that no one will ever take you from me?”

  “It helps when you do, and our wedding day can’t get here soon enough for me.”

  “You know I ache to kiss you.” He shook his head ever so slightly. “I ache to do so much more to you.”

  She breathed a heavy sigh, releasing it slowly. “Again, our wedding day—more so our wedding night—cannot get here soon enough.”

  The week sped by with a flourish of endless activities. Servants spent hours preparing the house for the special day. Furniture was polished along with silverware. An array of food was prepared and the finest of Cesare’s wines were made ready. Flowers were cut and arranged throughout the hacienda. A plethora of chairs and tables were arranged outside and violins, guitars, and flutes were heard in practice.

  Her wedding had turned into the event of the year. As soon as news spread of it, tongues began clucking. While many sent congratulatory notes, others clucked their tongues in speculation. Regardless of what anyone thought, all wanted an invitation to the celebration.

  Crista’s mother had taken charge and seen to every detail, except the wedding dress. That Crista insisted was her decision and for once her mother hadn’t argued.

  Crista stared at her wedding dress in the full length mirror. The sleeves were all lace, which had pleased her mother, the tight-fitting bodice with a minimum of lace pleased her, and the part that flowed down from her waist was a mixture of both. The seamstress had to have worked on it endless hours to have it ready today. How the seamstress had managed to stitch the dress so quickly remained a mystery to her.

  What she had agreed with her mother to wear—and she wore both proudly—was her grandmother’s delicate lace mantilla and intricately carved comb just as her mother had done on her wedding day. It was a tradition started by her grandmother and one she would continue. It had brought tears to her mother’s eyes, a rare sight, when she had agreed to wear it.

  In less than an hour, she would be wed, bu
t to who? To all attending, she would wed Chavez Navarro but to her she would wed the notorious Diablo. And she couldn’t stop from worrying that someday someone would discover the truth and her husband would be taken from her. It was a thought that had deeply troubled her since their impending marriage had been announced.

  A gentle knock sounded at the door before it opened and her father entered. He stood speechless staring at her, tears gathering in his eyes.

  “You are beautiful. I imagined through the years what you might look like grown. Never had I imagined you as beautiful as you are. Nor did I ever imagine you to be so brave or the necessity of it.” He wiped at the tears before they could fall. “I failed you more than once and I will regret it every day. My hope is that your husband will do better and never fail you.”

  Crista smiled, thinking of all the times Diablo had rescued her. “I believe he is off to a good start, Father.”

  “I agree, daughter,” he said and held his arm out to her.

  Due to the limited size of the church and the amount of people who would attend the ceremony and celebration, it was decided the ceremony would be held at the hacienda.

  Crista couldn’t believe the amount of people seated in the garden as she entered on her father’s arm and that they all stood as music played and her father escorted her to Chavez.

  Most smiled at her, but a few—the young woman who had hoped to snag Chavez for themselves—sneered as she walked past them. When she caught sight of her future husband, she couldn’t blame them. He looked more handsome than she had ever seen him, standing tall, his shoulders drawn back, his head high, his demeanor regal, and his dark eyes on her.

  When her father placed her hand in Chavez’s, she couldn’t keep it from trembling. His hand closed around hers warm and firm, gripping it with a strength that forced the tremble to vanish.

  “You are mine. You have always been and always will be, Crista,” he whispered and turned with her to face the priest.”

  The ceremony went quickly and the celebration was more festive and enjoyable than Crista had thought it would be. Food and wine were endlessly consumed, dancing never seemed to stop, and while some of the young women—the ones who had hoped to have Don Navarro as a husband—wore frowns, they soon were caught up in the festivities and enjoying themselves.