San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  He spoke to her softly as he glided his hand through her hair. He put his lips to a strand that curled around his finger. "I have always been fascinated by your hair. It's beyond description. Did you know that?"

  Their faces were so close she could see dark blue flecks in his light blue eyes. "How is that?"

  "Tonight your hair is like a cloud of black silk. But in the sunlight it sparkles with red. I have never seen a more beautiful sight, except when you dance."

  She was so swept away by his praise that she could almost have purred. So this was what it felt like to have a man make love with words.

  Emerada was having a difficult time concentrating on what Ian was saying because his virile body was issuing its own command, and her body was answering. "My black hair comes from my Mexican father. The red is from my French mother."

  He smiled and lifted her chin. "Oh, that explains it." He traced the outline of her face with his thumb. "Emerada, do you know what is going to happen between us?"

  She nodded. "I can imagine it."

  "You do understand that when I make love to you, you will no longer be considered a maiden?"

  "I know." Her voice was breathless, because his head dipped and his lips touched the pulse at her throat. When he raised his head, a lock of dark hair fell across his forehead, and she pushed it aside.

  "And still you want me to make love to you?"

  She tossed her head back, and her breasts brushed against his cheek. She watched passion flame in his eyes, and when he groaned in pleasure, she knew he was feeling the same intensity of passion as she. Why, then, did he hesitate?

  "But..." She was confused. "Do you not want me?" she asked, aching for him to master her body, to satisfy the yearning she felt deep inside.

  His answer was breathed against her breast just before he kissed the rosy nipple. Then he ran his mouth hotly across her other breast. "Yes, my sweet-yes, I do."

  Emerada was taken on a passionate journey that left her quaking. He was an expert on where to touch her and what would bring her the most pleasure. Already her insides were a quivering mass, her head was spinning, and he had only touched and kissed her. How much more wonderful it would be when he entered her body. She felt heat rush through her veins at the thought. She knew he was going slowly because of her inexperience. She remembered once overhearing two of her aunt's French maids discussing how much it hurt the first time a man made love to a woman. Pain? Yes, the feel of his hands on her bare breasts, his mouth on hers, his whispered words in her ear, they were all beautifully painful. Now his mouth started a downward trail, and she arched her back to get closer to him.

  Finally, when she thought she could stand it no longer, he placed his hands on both sides of her face.

  "Emerada."

  She saw the veins standing out in his neck from the tight control he was keeping over his emotions.

  "I can't stop now."

  "I do not want you to stop." She wanted desperately to know what it felt like to be one with him, even if it was only for this one night. Her arms slid around his shoulders, and she gloried in the feel of his muscled back. Her eyes welcomed him, her lips invited him, and she opened her heart and body to him.

  Ian's wonderful hands seemed to worship her with each touch. So slowly did he part her legs and move into position that she didn't realize what was happening until she felt his velvet hardness glide into her. He did not penetrate far, not at first.

  Hot wave after hot wave rocked her body, and she arched forward to receive him.

  His hand went to her back to still her. "Easy, sweetheart," he warned. "There is no hurry. I don't want to hurt you."

  She turned her head from side to side, trying not to cry out in ecstasy when he eased farther inside her. Whoever said it would hurt had not known Ian's lovemaking. He was so gentle, pulling back slowly, and then with the same slowness sliding forward. Oh, so sweetly did she respond to him. For a while it was enough for her. Ian's lovemaking was like nothing she could have imagined. She wanted to be with him, like this, forever.

  Then it changed!

  Ian's lips covered hers, and he pushed deeper inside her. Her fingers slid into his hair, and she pressed her lips tightly against his. She was shocked when his tongue slid into her mouth, making her tingle all the way to her toes.

  His hands guided her forward to meet his thrust, and he slowly drew her back, instructing her with gentleness that soon turned to raw passion.

  Emerada moved her hips of her own accord, meeting him, then releasing him, only to take him deeper inside her again. She could hardly breathe for the beating of her heart. He was her, and she was him-there was no beginning and no end. Like earth meeting sky, their flesh was joined and they became one.

  Emerada knew that no matter what happened after tonight, she was no longer the same. Her body would forever belong to Ian.

  As for her heart, that was another matter. She had something she must do, and she could not think about love-she just couldn't.

  But what were these powerful feelings she had for him?

  "Sweet, sweet Emerada," he murmured against her mouth. "I never knew I could feel like this."

  "I know," she said, catching her breath just as he slid deeper into her. Now she had all of him-she possessed him as no other woman ever would-she knew that in the deepest recesses of her mind.

  A gasp caught in her throat, and she was amazed to hear her own voice begging him not to stop.

  He was giving her a gift; she knew that, too. He was giving her more than he'd ever given another woman. She whimpered and her body tightened, trembled, and seemed to unleash an explosion of ecstasy that they shared.

  She felt Ian tremble; then they both lay qui etly, saying nothing, only feeling, experiencing the calmness that came with finding the perfect mate.

  Ian's touch conveyed more than words ever could. He kissed her lips, ran his hand over her breast, and then pulled her tightly against him, almost possessively.

  Emerada's hand glided up his back, and she buried her lips against his neck and pressed tighter against him. She didn't know how long this strange and wonderful ritual went on, but she soon became aware of the rain hitting the roof. A horse whinnied from one of the stalls.

  He took her face and turned her head to him. "Are you all right?"

  She looked deeply into his eyes, feeling as if she could drown in them. "I have never been so all right."

  His hand went to her stomach. "You felt no pain?"

  "Not the kind you mean." She bit her lip, suddenly feeling shy. "I am glad it happened."

  He rested his chin on the top of her head. "So am I.Something wonderful happened between us, Emerada. I don't know if you realize that, since you have not had a man touch you before me. I suspected it would be so for us, but now I know for sure."

  "I..." She could not meet his gaze. "Even though I have never been with a man before, I know what happened to me surpassed any feeling I have ever had."

  He hugged her to him, pressing her head against his heart. "I will want you for the rest of my life."

  She smiled and glanced up at him. "That long?"

  "And then beyond. How could I know that night you danced into my life that I would-"

  She placed her hand over his mouth. "Do not say anything tonight that you may want to retract tomorrow." She gave him her most seductive glance. "Of course, once the San Antonio Rose captures a man in her web, he is caught for life."

  He laughed and kissed her soundly. "Vixen."

  "Seducer of women," she teased back.

  Ian suddenly grabbed her, and before she could protest, he lifted her in his arms and laughingly carried her toward the front of the stable. He kicked the door open with his foot.

  When she realized what he was doing, she clung to his neck. "No, Ian! It is raining outside, and we are not wearing anything!"

  "Who will see us-the frogs?"

  He stepped outside, and they were hit by a deluge of rain. He swung her around laughingly, and
her joyous laughter joined his.

  The cool, cleansing rain washed over them, but she didn't feel it because Ian's lips were on hers. After a long, drugging kiss, he carried her back inside the stable. Draping her in the blanket, he pulled on his trousers and built up the campfire. He sat down before it and drew her onto his lap.

  His expression was serious as he looked into her eyes. "Do you really feel as I do, Emerada?"

  The cold rain had cooled her passion, and she stared at him, trying not to think about their lovemaking. "What do you feel?"

  "That life is suddenly sweeter, that the world is a better place, and that tomorrow will only be better."

  She considered his words for a moment. She did not think tomorrow would be better, because she must leave him. "Ian, tomorrow there will still be a war to fight, people will die, and women will weep. But," she said pensively, "life will be sweeter after tonight."

  "Damned right," he said, tasting her lips. Then, cocking his head to the side, he arched an eyebrow and gave her an inquiring look.

  She threw her arms around him, surrendering to him once more.

  For now Emerada could forget the terrible war that raged across Tejas, and the lives that had been lost. For now she was gripped by something magnificent, and she knew that Ian was finding forgetfulness in her arms-if only for tonight.

  It was in the early hours of the morning and still dark when Emerada slipped out of Ian's arms while he still slept. Silently she dressed and saddled her horse. She then bent down to Ian, wanting to curl up beside him once more, but she dared not. If she didn't leave now, she never would.

  His dark hair was swept across his forehead, and his long lashes lay softly against his cheeks. At that moment, she wanted him to open his eyes so she could look into their shimmering depths for the last time.

  But she dared not kiss his lips as she wanted, because if he should awaken, he wouldn't allow her to leave.

  "Please understand that I must continue on the path I have chosen, and you must go your way," she whispered.

  He murmured in his sleep, but didn't awaken.

  When Emerada grasped her horse's reins and walked toward the door, she turned back to Ian. With a resigned sigh, she went back to him, bent down, and kissed his lips.

  "I do not think we will ever meet again," she said softly. With Ian, she had become a different person, someone she didn't recognize. He made her reach deep within herself and discover emotions she'd never known she possessed. He brought out the best and worst in her.

  With a heavy heart, she turned and walked away.

  She mounted her horse and rode off into the predawn shadows, heading in the direction where she knew she would find Santa Anna.

  When she was a safe distance from Ian, she halted and glanced back, her heart aching. She allowed her eyes to move over the charred remains of what had once been a happy home.

  She nudged her horse in the flanks and rode away, leaving the past and its ghosts behind. Even Ian belonged to the past, but she would never forget the one glorious night she had spent in his arms.

  When she gave herself to Santa Anna, she would close her eyes and imagine it was Ian touching her.

  Ian awoke when sunlight beamed through a crack in the door and hit his face. He gazed around the stable, looking for Emerada, but she wasn't there. She must have gone outside, he reasoned.

  He smiled, remembering last night. He was a man who had found his lady, and he wasn't about to let her get away from him. Not that she'd try. He was sure that Emerada had felt the same as he had last night.

  He was glad the storm had moved away so they could make better time reaching General Houston. They should leave right away, though.

  Ian shoved the door open and squinted in the bright sunlight. It was going to be a hot day, not unusual for this part of Texas, even in the winter.

  He drew in a deep breath, feeling revived and reborn. Emerada had done that for him. Excitement stirred within him as he called to her. "Emerada, where are you?"

  When she didn't answer, he walked toward the charred ruins of the hacienda, thinking he'd find her there. As he walked along the overgrown path, he saw several ancient gravestones in a fenced area. None of the graves looked new enough to be those of her father or brothers. He wondered why their bodies would be buried in a different place from other family members.

  He could only imagine how difficult it had been for Emerada to return to Talavera. She had probably needed to be alone this morning and was walking somewhere.

  Ian edged along the rough walls of the house that had been gutted by fire. Most of the interior was nothing but charred and crumbling ruins, but it must have been magnificent at one time. Now it was only a skeletal reminder of the home it had once been. Still not worried, he made his way through a breezeway that had miraculously not been touched by the fire. He found the back of the house still intact, and he leaned against the cool, thick walls, his gaze sweeping the pastureland, hoping to see Emerada.

  There was nothing there but sadness. He had to get her away as quickly as possible.

  He would convince her to stay in Nacogdoches, where he could see her more often. He smiled, and then laughed out loud. Perhaps they would be married right away He didn't want the least bit of scandal to touch Emeradas life.

  Married! Was he thinking of marriage?

  His mind had been taking him in that direction without his being aware of it. He hurriedly retraced his steps, anxious to tell Emerada-or to ask her-to marry him. He supposed that would be the proper approach.

  As he reached the barn, he saw something he had missed earlier. Emerada had carved a sentiment for him in the mud, using a stick, no doubt.

  The smile left his face as he read her message: Ian, I had to go.

  Ian raised his face upward, crying out in agony, but his voice only echoed among the ruins. "No, Emerada! No!"

  Emerada rode her horse hard. She had to get to Presidio del Rio Grande so she could be certain Josifina was all right, and then she must lose no time in locating Santa Anna. Josifina was surely out of her mind with worry by now, and she could only imagine what Domingo must be thinking about her disappearance. Possibly he was with Josifina, knowing that was the first place she would go if she were able.

  It was after nightfall on the third day that Emerada reached the village. The streets were strangely quiet, the square empty. She rode to the hotel and dismounted, looping the reins over the hitching post.

  When she entered the lobby, the man behind the desk looked startled for a moment. "Ali, senorita, you are sadly too late for the burial rites."

  She was confused. "What? Who died?"

  He shook his head. "I am sorry to tell you that your maid was found dead in your roomthree... no, four days ago."

  Sudden pain surrounded her heart, and she bounded up the stairs. It couldn't be true-not her Josifina!

  Emerada opened the door and was immediately clutched in Domingo's tight hug. "I knew you would come," he said, leading her to a chair and guiding her down.

  She buried her face in her hands and sobbed, overwhelmed by the loss of her dear Josifina. "It is my fault. I should have been with her." She moaned. "I should have taken better care of her."

  "It was not your fault. Josifina was eightythree years old, and her heart gave out. If she was here, she would tell you not to blame yourself."

  "It is my fault."

  "You were Josifina's life," Domingo said kindly. "Just to be with you was her happiness."

  "Were you with her.. .when it happened?"

  "No. After I took your message to General Houston, I went back to San Antonio de Bexar, only to find no one knew where you were. It was said you left with the American prisoner, but I knew you did not go with him of your own free will. I also knew that if you could escape from him, you would come here, so I waited for you."

  "I do not know what to do now, Domingo. Everything has gone wrong."

  The big man nodded. "We should go back to France to be with your
aunt."

  She raised her head and brushed her tears away. "I cannot do that-you know what I must do."

  He sighed and looked resigned. "I was certain you would not give up now. When do we catch up with Santa Anna?"

  She stumbled toward the bed, feeling so weary. "I must sleep until morning. Tomorrow I will want to go to Josifina's grave. Then we will leave."

  "Rest for now," he said softly, wondering what hell she'd lived through.

  She turned onto her side and closed her eyes, immediately falling asleep, but Domingo saw that she trembled from crying so hard. He covered her with a shawl, then moved to the window and sat in a chair. He would watch over her as he always had.

  Emerada faced many dangers, but she was not a coward, and that was why Domingo had to take better care of her. She always rushed into trouble before devising a plan to escape. She had no one but him now to look after her and keep her from harm.

  Ian was astonished by the pitiful sight he saw along the road. Fear had spread through the settlements after the fall of the Alamo, and American families were fleeing for the border. The rains had come again, making it even more miserable for the continuous exodus from Texas.

  He passed barefoot women and children looking bedraggled and frightened. They kept glancing over their shoulders, as if they expected Santa Anna to come bearing down on them at any moment. They had every right to be afraid, because the Mexican army was at their backs and moving toward them at a fast pace.

  It was a gloomy afternoon when Ian entered San Felipe de Austin. A sentry shouted out to him, "Colonel McCain, have you heard the news? Texas has done gone and declared independence, and we have us a president! President David Burnet!"

  Ian smiled and waved, too weary to consider what that would mean to the men who would be called upon to defend the newly declared country.

  With a heavy heart, he located General Houston's headquarters. He had dreaded the moment he'd have to tell Houston that he'd failed in his mission to save the situation in San Antonio.