Diablo's Angel (Ranchero Trilogy Book 3)

by Donna Fletcher

She stopped in mid-stretch, her bare arms extended above her head. He hadn’t any provisions with him when he returned yesterday. She lowered her arms to her sides. Time was growing close. She had to make the best of the time she had. What was it Lucia would say?

  Live for today not for a day that has yet to come.

  She got out of bed and hurried into her clothes, though she had considered waiting naked in bed for Diablo to return. She smiled and her skin prickled thinking of those times he would wake her with gentle, intimate touches that would always lead to making love. She would so miss that.

  She sighed. Not yet. They had today and she would enjoy today and not worry on tomorrow.

  She smiled when she spotted the bucket of water on the table and she quickly freshened herself. He’d already been to the stream, which meant he was probably busy cooking the fish for breakfast. She sniffed, usually able to smell the scent of the fish cooking but caught no scent. He was probably busy cleaning them.

  With a swipe of her fingers through her long hair, she quickly braided it. She was eager to see Diablo, feel his lips on hers, his arm slipping around her waist to hold her close, or feel his strong hand as it closed snugly around hers. She smiled with anticipation, happier than she’d ever remembered being and looking forward to the day.

  She stepped outside and froze. More than a dozen men on horses were circling the shack while one rode forward. She knew without being told who it was—her brother Esteban.

  There were some similarities between them, the dark hair and eyes, and there was no doubt he had matured into a handsome man, his bold features striking. She might have realized who he was but he was still a stranger to her.

  The horse had barely come to a stop when he dismounted and hurried to her.

  “Crista, you are unharmed?” Esteban asked, reaching out to take her arm.

  Crista rushed back away from him before he could touch her. “I am not harmed.”

  Esteban remained where he stood. “You don’t remember me.”

  “I have little memory of you or any of my family,” she said.

  “Then it is time to come to know us once again. It is time to go home,” he said and held his hand out to her.

  Crista didn’t know if her disappointment showed and she didn’t care. There was no joy in seeing her brother after all these years and there would be no joy in reuniting with her family. She was in too much pain to celebrate an occasion that to most should be a happy one. Her heart was shattering into a million pieces and she feared she would do something foolish—like refusing to go with her brother.

  How could Diablo have left her like this? Why hadn’t he told her last night that her brother would be here this morning for her? She thought about the tender way he had made love to her last night and then how he had woken her to make love again, though that time was different. He had been possessive, demanding—he’d been the devil and the devil had claimed her soul.

  “Crista, you pale,” Esteban said and stepped forward to take hold of her.

  “Don’t touch me!” she screamed at him, not wanting to feel anyone’s hands on her but Diablo’s.

  Esteban stepped back, a dark scowl marring his handsome features, worried what may have happened to her sister while with Diablo.

  Crista fought to calm herself. Her time with Diablo was done. She would never see him again.

  “A mountain lion,” one of the men shouted.

  “No! Don’t shoot!” Crista screamed when she saw several of the men draw their guns. She turned and ran, slipping and scraping her legs as she scrambled up the rocks toward the big cat.

  “Crista!” Esteban yelled and chased after her, the mountain lion screeching as he did.

  Crista stopped not far from the animal and turned. “Tell your men not to shoot or I won’t go with you. The big cat means them no harm.”

  Esteban didn’t know what to make of his sister’s actions. She wasn’t anything like he had expected. He had thought to find a demure, well-behaved, young woman or at least that’s what the nuns at the convent where she’d been raised had advised his mother in a letter.

  Crista wasn’t anything like that. She was a beauty, there was no denying that, but she resembled more a peasant, free and untamed. Though that might be due to her peasant attire. Or had her time with the devil changed her? He was well aware of what time with outlaws could do to someone. Though it hadn’t been long that she’d been with Diablo, but then any time spent with the devil could prove dangerous.

  “I mean it, Esteban. Tell them to put their guns away or else,” she threatened.

  For a moment, he heard the voice of a young girl say his name and he was reminded of carrying her on his shoulders so she could pick an orange off the tree in their family’s orange grove. She’d never keep it for herself alone, she’d always share it with him.

  “Guns down,” he commanded and not one man hesitated—they all lowered their guns. He stretched his hand out to his sister, though she was too far away to take it. “Now come down. It’s time for you to go home.”

  Crista turned to give the big cat a look and whispered, “Don’t leave me yet. I’m not strong enough.”

  She made her way more carefully down the rocks and when she reached Esteban, she kept her hands at her sides, not taking his offered hand.

  “You’ll ride with me,” he said.

  “No!” she snapped. “I can ride on my own.”

  “I’m not offering a choice. You’ll ride with me,” Esteban ordered.

  And so it began, others making decisions for her.

  Crista sat sideways in front of her brother on his horse and gave one last, quick glance at the shack and then to the large cat who had moved higher up on the rocks. She thought—hoped—that Diablo might show himself, if only in the distance. But there was no sign of him.

  An excruciating pain tore at her heart at the thought of never seeing him again and anger joined it. He often said how she belonged to him and how he’d always be there to rescue her. How could he say those things then send her away? She had allowed herself to believe that the devil just might love her as much as she loved him. She supposed this was proof he didn’t. If he loved her, he could never let her go—his heart would break as hers did now.

  She almost laughed at the ridiculous thought. How could the devil’s heart break when he didn’t have one?

  She closed her eyes to keep her tears from falling as Esteban turned his horse and they rode away from the shack, away from what started as a nightmare turned into a dream, then returned to a nightmare once again. Had any of it been real?

  Crista didn’t want to open her eyes, though her gathering tears would leave her no choice but to open them and face the truth—face her brother.

  The screech of the big cat echoed through the mountain as she opened her eyes and let her tears quietly fall.

  “I’m sorry about this, little one,” Esteban said tenderly.

  She had forgotten he called her little one. It had been an appropriate name, since in her young eyes he had been a giant to her.

  “It is my fault Diablo got a hold of you,” he said with an anger he couldn’t hide.

  She wiped her tears away. “I don’t seek to blame anyone, and Diablo rescued me more than once from men who intended to do me horrific harm. I am grateful to him.”

  “There are few who would say that about him.”

  “Then they don’t know him,” she said and wished she had caught her tongue.

  “And you do?”

  This time she was glad her tongue was fast. “I have eyes and ears. I see and hear clearly.”

  “The devil can be deceptive,” Esteban warned.

  “You sound like you were taught by the nuns at the convent.”

  “I was taught by the devil himself,” Esteban said. “And once you owe the devil, he makes sure he gets his due. And if your foolish enough to give him your soul, there’s no escaping him.”

  She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his words. If tha
t were true, she wouldn’t be riding away with her brother right now.

  “It is done. You’ll never see the devil again,” Esteban said.

  In attempting to console her, he only added to her sorrow and pain, and tears choked at her once again. There was, however, one question she needed to ask him. It had troubled her since her capture.

  “Did Ernesto survive the attack?” she asked.

  “Si, he does well and tells all how you bravely saved his life. He goes to church every day and lights a candle for your safe return. He will be pleased and happy to see you. As we are all pleased that you are finally home. Mother and Father are eager to see you and I’m eager for you to meet my wife Rosa. And I’m pleased that you’ll be here for the birth of our first child, not far off. We have much to catch up on and…”

  Crista’s mind drifted as her brother continued talking of family and the future. None of it mattered to her. She had no interest in anything he was saying. Her mind was adrift with Diablo and what they’d be doing right now: talking, laughing, walking, making love. It hadn’t been something that would last forever, although she wished some miracle could have made it so, but it had been precious while it lasted.

  “You’ll face some scrutiny upon your return.”

  Those words jolted her out of her musings.

  “Gossip is inevitable, but a wise course of action will soon put it to rest,” Esteban said. “Mother and father will see to it all. You have nothing to worry about. You are safe now and all will go well.”

  She might be safe, but she was no longer free.

  Chapter 18

  The screech of the big cat woke Crista. She bolted up in bed, upset that it had only been a dream. She dropped back on the pillow, thinking the animal’s presence in her dreams let her know she had yet to gain the strength she needed. And that was true.

  She’d been home two weeks now and she still wasn’t comfortable here. It had been an awkward first meeting with her parents, Alejandro and Valerianna Cesare. They had stood staring at her as if they didn’t recognize her, but then she had resembled more a peasant than the daughter of a wealthy Spanish family.

  Her father had been the one to speak first, telling her how good it was that she was finally home. He hadn’t stepped forward to welcome her with a hug and kiss, and she had simply stood there staring at him, trying to remember him.

  It had been easy to see where Esteban had gotten his fine features. Though her father had aged, his hair having turned a silvery white, he was still a handsome man and tall, though not as tall as Esteban. Her brother stood with the regal bearing their father once had, his shoulders drawn back, his chin high and his chest wide while their father’s shoulders sagged just enough to show his age.

  Her mother was a beautiful woman even with a touch of age that graced her face, though there was not a touch of gray to her dark hair. The first words her mother had said to her were, “You must be tired from your journey and in want of a bath. I’ll have that arranged for you immediately.”

  Crista shook her head. Her mother had been more concerned with her appearance than with her return home. She couldn’t help but think how Ricardo and Lucia would have welcomed her home. Even after being away for her lessons at the convent a couple of days a week, Lucia would hug her close, the scent of whatever food she was preparing for supper heavy around her, and she would ask how the day went. Lucia would listen to her babble on, ask questions, laugh with her, then hug her again and tell her it was good she was home. Ricardo would get her from the convent and would wait until they were a distance away, then he would stop the wagon and give her a hug and ask if she was all right. He did that each and every time, and it was what she’d looked forward to the most on the days spent at the convent, that reassuring hug so filled with love.

  She had gotten none of that on her return home from her true family.

  She sat up with a stretch and looked around the room that had been hers when she was young, but that she hadn’t remembered. It was far different from the nearly barren shack she had shared with Diablo. It was much larger and full of color. Her bed was big enough for two people, yet she found herself sleeping on one side of it, used to being wrapped around Diablo in the narrow bed they had shared. She missed him more than ever when she’d reach out in her sleep for him to find he wasn’t there.

  She had spent endless nights crying, her heart feeling as if it shattered over and over again. No one asked her about her time with Diablo. It was as if it had never happened, not a single word having been spoken about it, at least not in her presence. It broke her heart even more not being able to acknowledge her pain and sorrow. It was made worse that she also couldn’t mention the family she had left behind in Spain and all they had done for her. She had to hold her tongue so often she feared she would eventually bite it off.

  She got out of bed and hurried into a skirt and blouse and her sandals. Her mother hated when she wore peasant clothes, but they were far more comfortable than the fancy clothing that filled the large armoire in her room. She rushed her hair into a braid and slipped quietly out onto the terrace and down the trellis that ran up the side from below.

  Leaving her room any other way left her far too vulnerable of running into others, like the servant who entered her room every morning ready to help her dress and style her hair. Or her mother who would suddenly appear around a corner ready to reprimand her appearance or asking if she was up to visitors.

  At first, her mother had been gentle about suggesting it was time for her to get to know some of the young women of her age and consider attending a party or two. It would do her good, she had insisted. Crista had no interest in either.

  Today, however, she had no choice. Her mother had grown tired of her excuses and had arranged for the daughters of two neighbors to visit with her this afternoon. Her mother had made it clear that she had no choice in the matter and that she was to be at her best.

  She hurried off once down the trellis and made her way to the orange grove. She didn’t need her brother’s shoulders any longer to reach the oranges. She could reach the lower branches now and she did, picking a good-sized orange off one of the many trees.

  “The perfect morning meal and one your niece or nephew favors himself.”

  Crista turned with a smile to greet her sister-in-law, Rosa, the only one she had adored upon meeting. She could see why her brother fell in love with her after they wed, since the marriage had been forced on them both. There was a natural beauty about her, although that could be because she smiled more often than not. And her dark brown eyes always seemed to sparkle with delight, though when Esteban was near her eyes were always filled with love. She also was petite in height and she was slim, which made her seem even larger with child then she already was, though it didn’t stop her from coming to the orange grove to collect her endless desire for oranges.

  “I’ll get you one,” Crista said and picked a fat, and sure to be juicy one, off the tree.

  Crista walked with Rosa to a wood bench under one of the orange trees and sat to enjoy their oranges.

  “It must have been difficult for you to marry my brother a stranger to you and suddenly be saddled with a family full of strangers,” Crista said, hoping she might learn how to adapt as Rosa had done.

  “My life was not good before I came here. Though everyone was a stranger to me, it was a far better life than what I previously had.”

  Crista said nothing, her circumstances far different from Rosa’s.

  “It cannot be easy for you returning home to a family who are mostly strangers to you,” Rosa said, ripping off another section of the orange to enjoy.

  Crista couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. “Everyone mentions that to me and tells me not to worry that in time I’ll adapt, but what of my abduction? Why won’t anyone talk with me about it? Everyone acts as if it never happened, as if I’d come straight home once I arrived here from Spain.”

  Rosa turned a sad smile on her. “They fear hearing what you
might have suffered at the hands of the devil.” She hastily crossed herself for protection. “They also worry about adding to the already gossiping tongues.”

  Crista nodded, understanding. “My honor was shattered the day I was abducted.”

  “Your family’s as well, since it isn’t only about you as difficult as that might be to understand. Your parents worry that what happened with Esteban when he returned after so many years of living with the outlaws will happen to you. No family of status would dare allow their daughters to enter into marriage with a man they considered improper and inferior.”

  “So gossiping tongues are saying what they wish about me,” Crista said and shook her head. “I don’t care.”

  “But your family does and rightfully so since it reflects on their honor and respect in the small community of haciendas. They’re only recovering from what Esteban’s abduction and what his return have cost the family. Your brother is a man now with a wife and child on the way, a man who has helped others, a man who has proven his integrity and loyalty to the community.” Rosa smiled. “Not that he cares. In that you two are alike.”

  “And I’m a woman who they believe has lost her integrity,” Crista said, realizing no one ever need know the truth unless…

  “A thought most people probably have on their mind.”

  “I have no desire to prove anything to anyone,” Crista said annoyed that people would condemn her for being abducted by the infamous Diablo.

  “And you don’t have to, but do you truly want lies spread about you? Or do you want to stand proud,” —she grinned— “and make them eat their words?”

  “What are you doing here? I told you I would get you fresh picked oranges. You should have waited for me,” Esteban scolded his wife as he approached her.

  Crista saw the worry on his face, but it was the love in his eyes when he looked at his wife and the love in Rosa’s eyes when she looked upon him that had her envious. She wished she had seen that in Diablo’s eyes, but rarely could anything be seen in his dark eyes.

  Rosa stretched her hand out to her husband and he hurried to take it and help her to her feet, his arm going around her waist.