This Fierce Splendor: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Iris Johansen

  Her face was troubled. “I don’t know.”

  “Christ.” His voice was suddenly harsh with impatience. “Are you afraid I’ll hold you to our vows for no good reason? Do you think I want to marry you? You once said I was no gentleman, and Lord knows, you’re right. But I’m also not a welcher who doesn’t pay his debts. I took something from you that I can’t give back, but I can give you my name and the protection it affords.” His gaze slid away from her. “And I promise not to touch you again as I did last night. If we’re lucky enough to escape with no consequences, I’d be a fool to endanger my freedom a second time.”

  Why did his words cause her such a wrenching pang? Of course he had no wish to marry her, she told herself sternly. Last, night had been a mere moment of uncontrolled lust to him. Any woman would have served as well. He had been as angry with his father as she had been at the trap laid for them.

  His gaze shifted to her face. “You can see we have no choice in this.”

  “Yes, I can see,” she said dully. “I suppose there’s nothing else we can do.”

  His shoulders made an almost imperceptible movement, as if throwing off a burden. “I’m glad you’re being sensible. We’ll be leaving for Kantalan right after the ceremony.”

  “Kantalan.” Her eyes widened. “You’re going with me?”

  The corners of his lips twisted with a crooked smile. “How else can I be certain I have no offspring wandering the face of the earth? I don’t think I could trust you to come to me for help if you needed it.” He turned away. “We’re taking two extra pack animals. If Kantalan exists, then maybe the treasure does too. Lord knows, Killara could use a barrel of gold in its coffers right now.” He moved swiftly toward the door. “So we’re not burdening the animals with anything but necessities. You can forget about that portmanteau. If your belongings won’t fit into a saddlebag, then leave them here. You’d only have to discard them when we load the burros with gold.” He opened the door. “If there is any gold.”

  “But you do believe there is a treasure, don’t you?” Elspeth asked softly. “And you believe there is a Kantalan?”

  He looked back at her. “I did once. I believed everything White Buffalo told me at the time.”

  “Even the prophecy?”

  He shrugged. “I was a wild, loco kid. That was before I gave up believing in dreams and lost cities. I’m different now.”

  Elspeth felt a tug of tenderness. He was not as different as he pretended to be. There were still a few dreams he believed in. He believed in his vision for Killara and suddenly she realized that he believed in something else. “You didn’t really answer me. Do you believe Kantalan exists?”

  He was silent a moment. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I believe in Kantalan. I suppose I always have.” The door closed softly behind him.

  Elspeth stared straight ahead at the ornate gold design on the ivory-colored altar cloth; she could see the brown-robed figure of Father Benedict as he left them and mounted the three steps to the high altar. Did that mean it was almost over? She had understood very little of the Latin the priest had murmured over them, and had answered only when prompted by Dominic. She cast a sidewise glance at Dominic, standing beside her. His expression was grave, almost stern, as his gaze, too, followed the priest.

  Husband. He was going to be her husband in a few short minutes. How strange to think of this wild, hard man in such domestic terms. Yet she was surely an equally unlikely bride in her brown riding skirt and boots. Her only bridal touch was the white lace mantilla Rising Star had draped over her neat bun before she’d entered the chapel.

  “Your head must be covered,” Rising Star had said gently. “It is the custom.” Then she had leaned forward and brushed Elspeth’s cheek with her lips and whispered, “There is something wrong here. Malvina would not tell me why this was done in such haste. Are you content with this marriage? May I help you in any way?”

  Content? Elspeth didn’t know what she was feeling at this moment but she knew it was not contentment. She also knew there was nothing Rising Star could do to alter the circumstances of this marriage. “No, there is no way you can help me,” she had said softly.

  Rising Star had been silent for a moment, her dark eyes troubled. “I told Malvina I would not come and watch this marriage. I would share your joy, but I will not share your vows.” She turned abruptly away. “God be with you.” Then she was gone, hurrying back across the courtyard toward the house.

  Elspeth glanced down at the fragile mantilla falling in graceful folds around her. “It is the custom.” It was clear Rising Star tried very hard to follow the customs of her husband’s people, and expected Elspeth to do likewise. It was the custom for a wife to respect and love her husband. It was the custom for her to bear his children and work at his side. It was the custom for her to occupy his bed and offer her body when he so desired.…

  “Are you all right?” It was Dominic’s low voice, his concerned gaze on her flushed cheeks. “It will be over in a minute.”

  She drew a shaky breath. “Yes,” she whispered back. “It’s only that this is so … so unusual for me.”

  His eyes twinkled. “It isn’t exactly an everyday affair for me either.” He slowly reached out and enfolded her small hand in his larger one. Support, comfort, serenity. How could one simple gesture tell her all those wonderful things? But his did.

  Her clasp unconsciously tightened on his hand as she looked up to meet his eyes. She inhaled sharply and then forgot to breathe. There was something waiting there, something just out of reach, something beautiful.

  He was gazing at her, his light eyes softly intent, his expression no longer amused, but holding the same breathless wonder. He impulsively moved closer. “Elspeth, I—”

  The priest was returning, his plump face solemn, his voice still murmuring the words of the ritual.

  With a painful effort Elspeth pulled her gaze away from Dominic’s. For a moment she had felt they were joined in an intimacy more complete than the one they had known in the night. There had been a question asked and answered, a memory perceived and accepted, a closeness once known reborn. She hadn’t wanted to abandon that closeness. It was a part of the beauty, a part of the merging, part of what had been and always would be.

  “Kneel.”

  Elspeth’s gaze flew back to Dominic. “What?”

  “We have to kneel for the blessing.” His hand still held her own and she saw in his taut pale face the same poignant regret she was experiencing, as if he, too, had been pulled back too soon from that other place.

  “Very well.” She didn’t move, gazing up at him.

  “Now.” His smile lit his dark face with a rare masculine beauty. “Together.”

  Together. What a truly lovely word, she thought dreamily. It encompassed strength and companionship, a linking of minds and bodies through an eternity of belonging.

  * * *

  In the rear of the chapel the heavy black woolen draperies that formed the walls of the confessional box moved slowly to one side as if shifted by an unseen hand.

  The afternoon sunlight streamed through the narrow windows of the chapel surrounding Dominic Delaney and Elspeth MacGregor in a nimbus of radiance as they stood before the altar. They were gazing at each other, their hands clasped and their faces illuminated by another radiance that came from within.

  How beautiful they were, Ramon Torres thought, sentimental tears springing to his eyes. The man was so tall and dark and strong, the woman small and fair and fragile in her fine white lace mantilla. Could anything be more joyous and touching than two souls joined by a love as strong as the one mirrored on their faces now?

  The ornate wrought-iron grillwork surrounding the confessional booth was very convenient, Ramon Torres thought absently as he rested the tip of the barrel of his pistol in the opening formed by the fretwork. He carefully shifted the hole he had made in the black woolen draperies that formed the walls of the confessional. The grillwork masked any glint of sunlight on th
e barrel and enabled him a clear view of Dominic and his bride as they took their vows.

  He noticed regretfully that they had turned to the priest again and he could no longer see the emotion that lit their faces. It was a pity he would not be able to see their expressions as the bullet struck Dominic. He had been anticipating that pleasure since yesterday afternoon, and had even dreamed of it during the night. He had awakened in the hayloft in a sweat of pleasure, spilling his seed on the straw, his heart throbbing with the sweetness of his vision. It was seldom he dreamed of his prey, and it was an indication of how important Dominic Delaney had become to him, how dearly he held him in his affections.

  He felt a momentary flash of sadness as he realized that Dominic would never know in what esteem he was held. He would not even know that it was Ramon who had given him his last night of lust with the gringa. The drugging of the woman had been easy enough, but there had been a certain risk in creeping upstairs after most of the household had retired to move her to Dominic’s bed and strip her. Yet he knew the danger had been well worth it when he looked at the two of them now.

  The drawback in hunting the most dangerous prey was that the shot must almost always be in the back. He had hoped for something different for Dominic, but circumstances had proved unkind. When word had come to ready the horses and the burros for the couple’s departure, he had known the prey would be leaving his home grounds. If he was to take Dominic off guard, this would be his last opportunity.

  Ramon’s muscles tautened as he leaned forward, his eyes narrowed on the two figures at the altar. It was suffocatingly hot in the booth, but he scarcely felt the heat. He was too full of the familiar excitement that always preceded the kill. Soon it would be time. He must be very, very still as he sat here in their midst, only he deliciously aware that the god holding power in this holy place was Ramon Torres.

  Elspeth and Dominic fell to their knees on the cushion before the altar.

  A pistol shot ripped through the silence.

  The sound reverberated in the chapel, tearing through the misty veil that softened the moment to reveal the harsh ugliness of reality. The altar rail in front of Dominic splintered to reveal the paler fiber beneath the polished wood.

  For a split-second Elspeth didn’t realize what had happened. Then she saw the deep red stain blossoming like a hideous flower on the shoulder of Dominic’s black suede jacket.

  Her gaze flew to his face. She saw pain, weariness, and the most heart wrenching emotion of all, acceptance, as he slumped over the altar rail and then slowly slid to the floor.

  Elspeth screamed!

  The raw sound ripped painfully from her throat. With frantic swiftness she crawled the few feet to where Dominic lay, and lifted his head onto her lap. “No, dear heaven, no,” she whispered. “Dominic!”

  He didn’t stir, his dark lashes still on his pale cheeks, his breathing shallow.

  She was barely conscious of Shamus’s muttered curses, the pounding of his boots on the tile floor as he ran toward the back of the chapel. Where was he going? she wondered wildly. Didn’t he realize Dominic needed help?

  Malvina was kneeling beside her. “Give him to me. I’ll take care of him.”

  “What happened?” Elspeth didn’t take her gaze from Dominic’s face. “That sound—”

  “He’s been shot.” Malvina’s tone was impatient. “Even a tenderfoot should be able to see that. Now move out of the way and let me tend my boy.”

  Elspeth’s arms unconsciously tightened around him. “No!”

  Malvina stared at her. “No?”

  “You have no right.” Elspeth’s expression was fierce. “He’s mine now, and I’ll be the one who cares for him.” She carefully laid Dominic’s head down on the floor and smoothed back the thick dark curls from his brow. “Fetch Rising Star, she may have the same knowledge of herbal remedies as Silver does.” She turned to the priest. “I’ll need a knife to cut away his jacket, and some bandages.”

  Father Benedict nodded and hurried away toward the door beside the altar.

  “And do you intend to dig out the bullet?” Malvina asked caustically. “You think you’ll have the stomach for it?”

  Elspeth swallowed. “The altar rail has been splintered. I believe the bullet passed through his body.” She looked down at Dominic, the pool of blood seemed to be spreading. Dear God, what if he died? Emptiness, darkness, pain. “Go away, I don’t wish to be distracted.”

  “You go away.” Malvina’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think I’ll let a whey-faced ninny kill my boy with her clumsiness?”

  “When I traveled with my father, I had to do a good deal of nursing because many of those in our party would fall ill or have accidents.”

  “But have you tended to gunshot wounds?” Malvina demanded.

  “No.” Elspeth took the lace mantilla from her head, folded it, and held it on the wound. Please God, if I have sinned, don’t punish me in this way, she prayed desperately. Don’t punish Dominic. “But it will make no difference. I will not permit him to die.” She lifted haunted eyes that held absolute purpose. “Dominic will live. Do you understand?”

  “No, I don’t.…” Malvina’s gaze met Elspeth’s. She nodded slowly, grudgingly. “I think I do understand.” She hesitated and then asked gruffly, “Will you let me help you? I’ve tended many a gunshot wound. Together we can keep him with us.”

  Together. A swift jolt of agony shook Elspeth. Only a short time ago she had been thinking what a lovely bridge the word was forming over the gap that separated her from Dominic. Now it was being spoken with such a different meaning by his mother, whose expression revealed, that she, too, felt desperate about Dominic’s condition.

  “Very well,” Elspeth said. She looked down beneath her fingers at the white lace that was now turning brilliant scarlet with Dominic’s blood. “I will let you help … my husband.”

  “He’s stirring.” Malvina’s said to Elspeth, who was crossing the threshold into Dominic’s room. “I told you that little scratch wouldn’t be nothing to him. Hardly worth putting him to bed.” She stood up, looking down at Dominic with fierce pride. “It takes something a lot more powerful than one little bullet to kill a Delaney.”

  Elspeth shuddered as she closed the door, and then moved toward the bed. “If the bullet had been six inches lower, even a Delaney wouldn’t have survived.” She set the small bottle of salve on the nightstand. “Rising Star gave me this to—” She broke off as Dominic moved restlessly on the pillows. A sweet stream of relief poured through her. Dear heaven, Malvina was right, he was going to get well.

  “He’ll be waking up soon.” Malvina walked briskly toward the door. “I’ll be going down to tell Shamus before he leaves for Shamrock. You stay with Dominic.”

  Elspeth’s smile was faintly ironical. “Thank you, that was my intention.”

  Malvina turned as she opened the door. “Give up this stupid idea of leaving Killara. I can see that you care for my boy. Stay here and keep him safe.”

  “You call this safe?” Elspeth gestured impatiently to Dominic. “I beg to disagree.”

  Malvina looked slightly disconcerted. “Safer than anywhere else. We weren’t looking for any of our own to turn bushwhacker. It won’t happen again. Shamus will see to that. You just do your part and keep the boy here.”

  Elspeth moved around the bed to the chair Malvina had vacated. Her gaze didn’t leave Dominic’s face as she sat down and leaned wearily against the brass-studded leather back of the chair. “I can’t keep him anywhere he doesn’t wish to be. He pays no mind to what I want and don’t want.”

  Malvina smiled grimly. “Then find a way to make him pay attention. You were willing enough to face up to me and make me do what you wanted. Dominic shouldn’t be any harder to manage. You just do what I told you and—”

  “No,” Elspeth said clearly, her gaze lifting to meet Malvina’s. “I will not do what you tell me. I will make my own decisions and take the actions I see fit. I can’t let a Delaney gu
ide my path.”

  The expression on Malvina’s face reflected annoyance, yet a flicker of grudging respect. “You don’t have to get huffy. In the end it will probably come down to the same thing anyway.” There was suddenly a glint of genuine amusement in the older woman’s hazel eyes. “Because you’ve forgotten something. You’re a Delaney now too.” She punctuated the statement with an emphatic shutting of the door.

  Elspeth stared blankly at the dark mahogany panels of the door. Only now did it sink in that she was a member of this proud clan. No longer Elspeth MacGregor, but Elspeth Delaney, wife of Dominic Delaney, who was perhaps the fiercest and most dangerous of them all. A feeling of overwhelming pride surged through her in a passionate, primitive flow that contained elements of both excitement and challenge.

  What strange transformation had happened to her in that blinding moment of revelation when she had thought Dominic had been killed? How could fear tear away the teachings of a lifetime and permit her to see the world with such simplicity? Questions. So many questions. She had been asking questions all her life and had at last found the answer to the most important one.

  Love. She loved Dominic Delaney with all her heart and soul and realized now that everything else must stem from that source. It made no difference that Dominic did not feel a similar passion for her. No, she was lying to herself. That knowledge hurt unbearably but could not change her feelings.

  “Elspeth …”

  Her gaze flew back to Dominic’s face. His eyes were open, glittering in the dimness of the bedchamber. His face was tense and the wariness in those eyes made her ache with sympathy.

  “Everything is fine. The bullet went through the fleshy part of your shoulder. Your mother said it was a clean wound and you should be up in a few days.”

  “Who …?”

  “One of the vaqueros saw Ramon Torres run out of the chapel and jump on a horse tethered in the back.” She swallowed hard. “It seems Torres was the one who drugged me and carried me to your room. Your mother questioned Rosa a short time ago and she said he had been in the kitchen while she had prepared my tray.” She shuddered as she felt again the chilling horror she had known when Malvina had told her it was Torres who had been responsible for her disgrace as well as the attempt to kill Dominic. How could loving smiles and murder exist hand in hand? “What reason could he possibly have for doing something like that?”