This Fierce Splendor: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Iris Johansen

  “I’d follow you.”

  The threads tightened, brightened, almost revealing themselves to the naked eye. Destiny.

  Patrick spoke again. “Is that all you wanted to know?”

  “Yes, that’s all.”

  They lay there but did not speak again.

  Patrick’s thoughts were on Rising Star.

  And Rising Star’s thoughts were on … shadows.

  Sleep did not come to either of them for many hours.

  19

  The town of Rosario, Mexico, baked in the late afternoon heat. Actually, it was more village than town, consisting of several tiny stucco houses, a church, a cantina, and a blacksmith’s lean-to with a corral in the rear. Three brown-skinned women scrubbing clothes in the large chipped fountain in the center of the square stopped their work to watch Elspeth and Dominic ride down the street.

  Dominic stopped before the church. “Stay here.” He swung down from his horse. “I’ll go and see if I can arrange for a bath and a place for you to sleep tonight. Father Leon is the only man in Rosario I’d trust to house you in this town.”

  Elspeth looked at him in surprise. “You’ve been here before?”

  “About four years ago.” He climbed the steps and opened the tall brass-studded door. “Arizona was getting a little too hot for me so I came down here. There’s no law in Rosario.”

  “Then why didn’t you stay?”

  He looked over his shoulder as he stepped into the dim coolness of the chapel. “I got tired of drinking tequila.” Then he was gone, and she heard the soft jingle of his spurs as he walked down the aisle of the church.

  He had been homesick for Killara, Elspeth thought. Who could blame him? Even to her, the green valleys of Killara seemed like paradise after the hot, burning desert country they’d been traveling across for the past two and a half weeks.

  She reached for the linen handkerchief tucked into her belt and wiped the back of her neck, thinking longingly of the dimness of the chapel. The fine dust was entering her lungs with every breath and the heat-blurred horizon was wavering before her eyes.

  The women at the fountain were still staring at her. Elspeth smiled tentatively, but they did not return her smile. Their round brown faces were stolid, their dark eyes expressing no warmth only curiosity at the foreigner in their midst. She was suddenly acutely conscious of the whiteness of her skin, the fairness of her hair, and the delicate slenderness of her body. She looked quickly away from the women. No wonder Dominic had not stayed here, even though it was safer for him.

  “Elspeth.” She looked up to see Dominic coming down the steps. “Father Leon will let you stay at his casa next door to the church. He begs you to forgive him for not coming to greet you, and asks that you come to him. It’s painful for him to walk.”

  Elspeth got down from the mare. “Is he ill?”

  Dominic shook his head. “Crippled. Before he moved to Rosario he had a brush with the soldiers at a village closer to the border. They thought he knew the hiding place of Indino, a bandit who raided the silver shipments of the great mine owners in the area. They tied the Father down spreadeagled and galloped their horses over him.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. “A priest?”

  Dominic nodded. “Compared to the soldiers, the bandits are gentlemen born and bred.”

  Elspeth felt sick. “How terrible. They could have killed him.”

  “Six months later Indino found the colonel who ordered the torture.” Dominic took the reins of the mare. “I’ll take the animals over to the corral for the night. I promised Father Leon I’d join him for dinner, but I have something to do first.”

  Torres, thought Elspeth. Every evening before Dominic settled down for the night he would go back and assure himself there was no one following them. “Aren’t you going to stay with Father Leon too?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll find a bed over at the cantina.” His lips twisted sardonically. “I’ll feel more comfortable there.” He started to turn away.

  “Dominic.”

  He paused to look at her.

  “What did Indino do to that colonel?”

  “I don’t think you’d want to know.” He walked away, leading their horses and burros toward the blacksmith’s corral.

  Elspeth watched him for a moment before walking up the steps to the chapel. He was right. Barbarism and hardship confronted her every day; she didn’t need to expose herself to more. Every time she thought she had grown as hard and tough as Dominic, something happened to prove to her how soft and vulnerable she still was.

  At least she was no longer physically soft. The first few days of the journey had been agonizing and she had thought she would collapse from sheer exhaustion. It had been a nightmare hiding her weariness from Dominic to prevent him from insisting on doing everything himself as he had that first night on the trail. But as the days had passed, Dominic’s wound had healed and she had found she, too, was becoming stronger. Her muscles were getting more supple, her endurance was increasing. The sun burned her skin in spite of the sombrero Dominic insisted she never be without, but the painful burn went away and her skin turned brown. She thought she looked like a withered hag, but she felt good. The knowledge that she was strong enough to withstand the elements and long hours on the trail, yet still have enough energy to help Dominic filled her with a serene sense of self-worth she had never before experienced.

  “Señorita, por favor.”

  Elspeth turned to see a small boy of about nine years of age standing on the step below her. His dark hair was a wild tangle, his face dirty, his shirt and trousers ragged. He was barefoot and the steps must have been terribly hot on the soles of his feet.

  “You spoke to me?”

  He nodded, his dark gaze fixed desperately on her face. “Sí.”

  “You wish money?” she asked gently. “I have very little but I’ll be glad to give you a peso.”

  He shook his head so emphatically, flecks of dust flew from the wild black locks. “No, I wish nothing from you,” he said in Spanish. She had difficulty understanding him. The accent was different, harsher than the soft Castilian she had learned in Spain. However, there was no misunderstanding the smile he gave her. It was as innocently beguiling as that of a Botticelli cherub. “It is I who have a gift for you.”

  Father Leon smiled as she came into the room. “You look muy bonita, Señora. Maria gave you the help you needed?”

  “She was very kind.” Elspeth hurried forward to take from him the tray containing an earthenware pitcher and a bowl filled with a savory mixture of chicken, corn, and green peppers. She had already found that the priest attempted to do far more than he should, given his infirmities. He was bent and twisted, scarcely able to shuffle without flinching, and yet he was trying to wait on them. “Sit down, Father Leon. This looks delicious. Has my husband come back yet?” She tingled with pleasure when she referred to Dominic in that possessive manner.

  She set the tray on the long trench table and turned to look anxiously out the window. The sun was setting in a burst of radiant gold, scarlet, and mauve. It had been nearly four hours since they had arrived in Rosario, and she had seen nothing of Dominic since he had left her at the steps of the church. After these last two weeks she wasn’t accustomed to being separated from him for more than a few moments, and his absence made her uneasy.

  “He will come soon.” Father Leon seated himself at the head of the table. “Dominic enjoys Maria’s chicken stew far too much to linger long at the cantina.” His smile faded. “You must encourage Dominic to stay away from the cantina now that he is a married man. There are many ungodly activities at Miguel’s. Gambling and …” He trailed off awkwardly.

  Hetaeras. The unspoken word jumped immediately to the forefront of her mind. Of course there would be women for Dominic to enjoy here. Dark-eyed brown-skinned women who would welcome him into their beds. The thought brought such a wild thrill of pain, she had to lower her lashes to veil her eyes from the priest. “Did he
stay at the cantina when he was here before?”

  Father Leon nodded. “When he wasn’t in the hills with Indino.”

  Her lashes flew up. “He was a bandit?”

  The priest smiled reassuringly. “No, he merely grew restless with us here and he and Indino became friends. It was natural they should, I suppose. In many ways they are much alike. Indino, too, is an unusual man.”

  “Since I crossed the sea I’ve come to the conclusion there are no ‘usual’ men here,” Elspeth said dryly. “I believe I must have left all commonplace individuals in Edinburgh.”

  Father Leon chuckled. “When men live without laws, their good qualities as well as their sins tend to be magnified. Perhaps because their temptations are so much greater.”

  Elspeth frowned as she poured the frothy milk from the pitcher into polished wooden cups. He was again obliquely warning her about the temptations that would assault Dominic at the cantina. He didn’t understand that there was nothing she could do to keep Dominic from going to those fallen women. He had married her to protect her, probably considering that the full discharge of his duty to her. He had not made promises of fidelity, and there was nothing she could do to prevent him from taking his pleasures where and when he wished. Her hand tightened on the handle of the pitcher as a wild thought occurred to her. Unless—

  “You look very thoughtful.” Father Leon’s eyes were narrowed on her face. “You must not be concerned, it takes time for two people to become accustomed to each other. I’m sure you will be able to persuade Dominic to give up drink, gambling, and—” he paused as if for inspiration— “other iniquities when he settles down and realizes how fortunate he is in his marriage to you.”

  The priest’s words brought little comfort. If she was not with child, these two months were all the time she would have with Dominic. The realization brought a sense of desperation and caused that wild thought to come to mind once again. “I’m sure you’re right, Father.” She lit the fat tallow candle on the table. “I believe I’ll have to make Dominic realize he’s a married man now. I’ll consider what you’ve said.” She changed the subject. “I met a small child as I came into the church. He was very appealing.” She paused. “He wanted to give me a present.”

  Father Leon nodded. “Ah, you are speaking of Rafael. I thought he would approach you before you left Rosario. It is a sad situation.”

  “I don’t know what to do. I don’t believe Dominic would like me to accept Rafael’s gift.”

  “Then you must not do it. A woman must obey her husband.”

  “Sorry I’m late.” Dominic stood in the doorway, his hat in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. “I took advantage of a hot bath to soak the dust out of my bones.” He held up the bottle and smiled at the priest. “I brought a peace offering, Miguel’s very best.”

  “Which is very fine indeed.” Father Leon returned Dominic’s smile. “A fitting beverage to toast your lovely bride. Does she not look beautiful tonight?”

  “Very beautiful.” Dominic didn’t look at Elspeth as he tossed his hat on a chair. “Amazing what a little soap and water can do.”

  He meant that at least she was scrubbed clean of trail dust, Elspeth thought gloomily. She knew she wasn’t attractive to him, despite his polite agreement with the priest. He had seen her in Brianne’s dark brown riding skirt and white cotton blouse many times in the past two weeks. Then, too, she was tanned almost as berry-brown as those women she had seen by the fountain this afternoon, and didn’t a man want a woman like her to have a milky white complexion? She had a sudden memory of the beautiful white gown Rising Star had permitted her to borrow on that first evening at Killara. How she wished she had something lovely to wear tonight.

  “Sit down,” she said. “Father Leon says you’re very fond of Maria’s chicken stew. It looks quite wonderful.”

  “It is.” Dominic took the seat she’d indicated. “I can remember one night Indino and I rode thirty miles down from the hills because he swore he could smell her cooking it.” His white teeth flashed as he grinned. “It was three o’clock in the morning when we rode into Rosario, and Maria wasn’t pleased when we banged on her door and woke her up.”

  “Nonsense. She may have scolded you but she was flattered.” Father Leon’s eyes twinkled. “She still boasts of that night to the other women in the village.”

  Elspeth sat down opposite Dominic, watching the expressions change and flicker on his face as one reminiscence led to another. The stew was as good as Dominic had claimed, but she found she had little appetite. She was too absorbed in turning over in her mind the astonishing and frightening idea Father Leon’s words had inspired. Was it possible that she could find a way of tempting Dominic into wanting to stay with her? She was no practiced hetaera, but he had said all women were much the same and perhaps—

  “You’re not eating.” Dominic’s gaze was suddenly on her face. It was the first time he had looked at her since he had entered the house and a little quiver of excitement ran through her. “Are you sick?”

  “What?” She moistened her lips. “Oh, no, I’m enjoying it very much. It’s just …”—she searched wildly for an excuse—“hot.”

  His gaze held her own and she felt the wild color sting her cheeks. What if he had guessed what she had been thinking? She felt suddenly naked and vulnerable, and the words tumbled from her lips. “Don’t you think it’s hot?”

  “Yes.” His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and then forced himself to look away from her. “Yes, very hot.” He suddenly stood up, the legs of his chair screeching as he pushed it away from the table. “I think I’ll take a walk before I go to bed.”

  Father Leon’s face clouded in disappointment. “Are you not going to join me in a glass of wine?”

  “Not tonight.” Dominic tempered the shortness of the refusal with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning before we leave, Father. Good night.”

  Father Leon’s gaze moved from Dominic’s face to Elspeth’s and back again. “You are welcome to stay here with your wife tonight. I think you will find the bed I gave her far cleaner than the one at Miguel’s.”

  Elspeth held her breath, her hand tightening on the wooden cup.

  Dominic didn’t answer for a moment, and she could feel his gaze return to her face. “I don’t doubt it.” His voice was thick. “But I must refuse. I have a few friends I want to see at Miguel’s.”

  Women friends? Elspeth wondered, experiencing a wild primitive anger that was a totally new feeling. Jealousy. She wanted to do physical injury to those “friends.” She got hurriedly to her feet. “I believe I’ll get a breath of fresh air before I help Maria clean up.” She passed Dominic without a glance as she headed for the front door. “I’ll be back shortly, Father.”

  The evening air was cool on her hot cheeks and she inhaled deeply, breathing in the pungent scent of creosote and chili peppers drying on the rawhide awning of the house next door. Light was streaming through the windows and doors of the small stucco buildings surrounding the square, and she could hear the sound of a guitar echoing through the empty streets from the direction of the cantina. She heard the door close behind her. “It’s much cooler out here, isn’t it?” she asked quickly. “I like Father Leon. It seems impossible that anyone would want to hurt him. He has the—”

  “What’s wrong?” Dominic interrupted.

  “What could be wrong?” she asked, moving away from him. “It’s quite pleasant here. I’m glad we had the opportunity to stop and sleep in a room with four walls around us.”

  “There’s something wrong. I know you well enough now to understand when you’re upset about something.” He hesitated. “Were you afraid I was going to let the priest talk me into sharing your bed?”

  Heat rained through her every vein. “No. You had the opportunity to force yourself on me any number of times in the last weeks. What difference would it make if we did share a bed?”

  The same difference as the straw that broke the camel�
��s back, he wanted to tell her. He should never have stopped here, but he had wanted to let her rest. She had been so damn brave and uncomplaining that he had felt guilty as hell at pushing her as he had these last two weeks. Yet how could he explain that if he hadn’t been too exhausted to crave nothing but rest, he would have been within her, his promise forgotten, everything forgotten but the tightness, the heat of her.

  He shuddered. Damn, he shouldn’t have let himself remember how sweet she had felt around him. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. I’ll be here to get you right after dawn.”

  “No, I’ll meet you at the corral.” He was leaving her. He would cross the square to that cantina, where there would be music and hetaeras and all the pleasures he knew so well. “I can find my way.”

  “Whatever you wish. You’d better go back inside now and get to bed.”

  Back to Father Leon and the small ascetic room where she would sleep alone tonight. Dominic would not sleep alone. The anger and hurt she was feeling suddenly flared hotly. She had been debating whether to accept Rafael’s gift, but now it was decided. Any man who had the insensitivity to indulge himself with hetaeras while his wife was just across the square did not deserve any consideration. “Good night, Dominic.” The edge to the words was sharp enough to whittle wood.

  Dominic hesitated. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Oh, yes, I’m perfectly splendid. Go on to your cantina.” Why had she thought she might appeal to him as those other women did? He couldn’t wait to leave her and go rushing to the eager arms of some black-eyed señorita.

  He stood stock-still for a moment, then he shrugged and started across the square.

  She watched until Dominic disappeared into the cantina before returning to the house. She carefully banished the look of anger from her face, assuming a cheerful smile as she went in to join Father Leon.

  “A mule?” There was a lethal softness to Dominic’s tone. “You actually bought a mule?”

  “No, I told you, he was a gift,” Elspeth said. She swung into the saddle of the mare. “I don’t know why you’re upset. He’s much bigger than those poor little burros and should be able to carry a great deal more.”