The Spanish Outlaw

by Higgins, Marie

  His heart twisted, and a knot formed in his throat. Díos, he missed her, and it hadn’t even been eight hours. They hadn’t been apart this long since they’d met, and his arms ached to hold her again.

  Cursing his weakened state, he folded the garment and gently placed it in his satchel on top of his clothes. First, he’d get the information needed to confirm his identity to the King of Spain, have his uncle arrested, and then sail to America to claim the woman he loved.

  He smiled. And then…he’d ask her to marry him.

  Instead of using the door to leave, he opened the window and climbed out. The peaceful pre-dawn morning made him hesitate, not wanting to disturb the chirping crickets or belching frogs near the seaside.

  As his feet hit the ground, he stilled, listening for anything out of the ordinary. Once the early morning sounds picked up again, he crept along the shadows, glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone followed. After about a mile, he relaxed, knowing his uncle’s men had not been hiding by the hotel. And if they were, they were still there.

  Cautiously, he walked along the road, watching closely so he didn’t step on anything that made a noise or kicked a rock by accident. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted an old farmer’s sombrero lying on the side of the road. He stopped, glanced both ways to see if anyone watched, then bent and picked it up. After close inspection, he dusted it and placed it on his head. This helped to shield the glare when the sun made its appearance in another hour.

  As he passed an orchard, he spied fresh red apples dangling from the trees. His mouth watered and his stomach growled. He’d skipped breakfast, and the last meal he’d eaten was with Vivian.

  He jumped the fence, hurried to the nearest tree, and snatched the fruit. Sinking his teeth into it, he sighed aloud while the sweet juice trickled down his chin.

  It’d been a long time since he’d been fence hopping in orchards to steal food. As a boy, he and his friend would sneak away from Anton’s niňera and rob their neighbors of whatever fruits were in season. He chuckled softly from the memory and picked a few more apples for later, stuffing them into the pockets of his jacket before he continued on his way.

  The farther he walked, the greener the land became. A rush of contentment overwhelmed him, and he smiled. Spain was in his blood, and no matter how far he traveled, this would always be home. From his calculations, the next town was only a few miles away. If his niňera lived the same place he remembered, he was within hours of finding her, and his heart yearned to see her once again.

  The sounds from farm animals in the pasture he passed intensified as the sun hovered in the sky, announcing its awakening. It had seemed a lifetime since he enjoyed the refreshing sounds of farm life. He observed the large barn, the owner and his two young sons wearily moving about the yard, throwing feed to the animals as they hid yawns behind their hands. They glanced at him as he passed. He acknowledged them with a wave.

  It seemed strange when one of the boys kept moving his attention to something behind Anton. The little boy’s neck stretched to get a better look, and curious, Anton glanced over his shoulder in hopes of seeing what caught the boy’s interest. At first, he didn’t see anything, but soon he noticed the shadowy figure hiding behind a tree.

  Anton’s gut clenched, and he balled his hands into fists. Had someone been following him since he’d left the hotel? If so, why hadn’t he noticed it before now? Prickles danced over his skin, making the hairs on the back of his neck rise in alarm.

  Acting as if he didn’t see, he continued on his way, this time his ears alerted him with the different sounds. Once he passed the farm, he slowed his pace, hoping to give the stranger enough time to catch up. The loaded pistol anchored in the waistband of his trousers eased him slightly. He patted the weapon for reassurance. He’d not hesitate to kill any man that stepped in his way of reclaiming his inheritance and taking back his life.

  The clump of trees to his left were the perfect place to hide, so without hesitation, he quickened his step and crept through the thicket, searching for a tree large enough to hide him. When he found one, he flatted himself against it, watched, and waited.

  Leaves rustled on the ground as the light wind teased them, making it harder to listen for footsteps. Even the birds’ singing gnawed at his nerves. Couldn’t they keep quiet for five minutes?

  A twig snapped. He withdrew his pistol. Unease washed over him, but he kept calm, ready to pounce at first chance. When the crunch of leaves disturbed the field, his scalp tingled with fear. The sound grew closer.

  Anton held his breath until he spotted the figure not more than ten feet away. The sun glared in his eyes, not allowing him to see the person. But from what he could see, the stranger, a lad, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, crept past, darting behind one tree to the next.

  Without revealing himself, Anton studied the boy. Also dressed in black, the boy’s clothes practically hung on his slender frame, his hair and face concealed by the wide-brim sombrero. Anton breathed easier knowing this mere boy would be easy to deal with. He replaced the pistol in his trousers.

  Should he let the boy wander through the trees until he disappeared, or should Anton pounce on him and force some response from the lad? Anton knew that answer. He had to know why the boy followed. Did he work for Uncle Juanito?

  Once the boy turned his back, Anton jumped and wrapped his arms around the slender frame like bands of steel as he pushed both of them to the ground. The moment they hit the earth, a painful high-pitched cry came from the young boy. Beneath Anton’s hands, the softly curved body became noticeable.

  A woman?

  Quickly turning the stranger over on her back, Anton pinned her to the ground, holding the thin shoulders down.

  When the sombrero rolled off her head, cascades of black hair fanned the ground. Wide eyes surrounded by dark lashes flashed at him. He sucked in a quick breath and cursed.

  A sheepish grin appeared on her face. “Good morning, Anton.”

  It took a full minute for it to register, and when he finally realized Vivian was really lying beneath him, his anger kindled. He rolled off and jerked up to a sitting position.

  “What are you doing?” he practically yelled. “You are supposed to be on the ship.”

  She gave a half-shoulder shrug as she sat next to him. “I changed my mind.”

  Cursing again, he squeezed his eyes closed, quickly thinking of how he’d get her back on the ship. Impossible. The ship was probably ten hours away.

  The touch of her hand on his face made him open his eyes. A soft smile graced her face as she caressed his cheek. “Aren’t you even a little bit pleased to see me?”

  Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the happiness from expanding in his chest. He grinned. “I ought to be very annoyed with you for deceiving me. In fact, I may never forgive you.”

  Both of her hands wound around his neck and pulled his face to hers. “But you’ll kiss me, instead, won’t you?” she asked before touching her mouth to his.

  Immediately, the kiss turned wild as he pushed her back to the ground. He slid his fingers through her silky hair as he met her demanding mouth.

  With a growl, he tore his mouth from hers. This was definitely not the place to become intimate. “Vivian, we cannot do this here.” He breathed in slower.

  She kissed his jaw. “I missed you, too,” she said with a light laugh in her voice.

  He smiled. “I really ought to reprimand you for what you did.”

  “I’d rather be here with you than on the ship with the captain. I figured you needed me more than he did.”

  He glanced at her hair and groaned, rubbing her locks between his fingers. “What have you done to your beautiful hair?”

  “I colored it. Do you like it?”

  “I prefer the other color, querida.”

  “So do I, but this color doesn’t stand out. Now I won’t be spotted as an American so easily.”

  He shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

>   “Love me.”

  He brushed tender kisses over her mouth. “You know I do.”

  “Let me be with you.”

  “You know I cannot.”

  “No, you just won’t.”

  “And you know why.”

  “Because of your uncle.”

  “Sí.”

  “But Anton, I’m safer with you. I trust you’ll not let anything happen to me.”

  He nuzzled his face against her neck. “Sí. I will kill anybody who tries to hurt you.”

  Her fingers played with his hair, and heated tingles shot through his body from her gentle touch.

  “We make a great pair, I think,” she said.

  Pulling back, he gazed into her shadowed eyes, warm with desire. “We make a wonderful pair.”

  “So, can I come with you? Please?”

  He chuckled. “It would be foolish of me to turn you away now.”

  She laughed and kissed him again, this time keeping it tender and passionate. His body relaxed, and it satisfied him to just savor her taste, the feel of her, and those caressing fingers moving over his neck and around to cup his face.

  They really shouldn’t do this here, his mind reasoned. Then again…they were alone in the group of trees, out of sight from anyone who happened to pass by and far enough away from the main road to be noticed.

  He kissed her harder, enjoying the closeness they shared, but behind him came quick footsteps, crunching in the leaves and breaking twigs along the path. Fast as lightning, he jumped to his feet. Clumsily, he withdrew his pistol, wishing her drugging kisses hadn’t affected him so.

  He aimed the revolver toward the sound and tightened his hand on the butt, praying to the Almighty it wasn’t one of his uncle’s men.

  * * * *

  When the stranger made an appearance, confusion washed over Vivian, and she blinked. A woman stood in the sunlight, wearing a plain brown gown with her hair pulled back in a knot. Familiar eyes gazed down at Vivian, and she gasped.

  “Mother?”

  The older woman’s eyes widened, but she rushed to Vivian and grabbed her arm. “You and Anton must hurry. Señor Ballì’s men are not far behind me.”

  Vivian’s heart hammered to a different rhythm. Panic surged through her as she stood, embarrassment burning her cheeks. What could her mother be thinking right now? Then again, did it really matter? From what her father had told Vivian, Eleanor Wentworth knew a lot about passion.

  Anton picked up the sombrero and stuffed it on Vivian’s head. “Tuck your hair inside,” he commanded before grabbing her elbow, leading them through the thicket of trees.

  “I apologize for interrupting your...umm, private moment,” Eleanor stammered, “but when I recognized two of your uncle’s men, I knew I must warn you.”

  Anton stopped, bringing Vivian to a jerk as she stumbled into him. She steadied herself as she held onto his arm.

  He threw a glare at her mother. “How do you know my uncle?”

  “I have lived in Spain for five years. I know a lot about your uncle and his men.” She glanced behind them before meeting Vivian’s stare. “Now are you going to believe me and let me help you?”

  Vivian swallowed the lump of doubt in her throat. She searched for the detective skills she’d tried to develop, and for her ability to read people, but strangely, they had disappeared. Perhaps she was too emotionally involved this time.

  “Why should we believe you?” Anton snapped.

  The thin woman stood tall, placing her hands on her hips and lifting her chin in defiance. “Because, I love my daughter—no matter what she believes—and I want to prove my devotion to her.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I want a second chance,” she whispered.

  Vivian’s heart hammered, and her hands moistened. Should she allow this woman back into her heart? Yet now was not the time to argue. They needed to hide themselves from Juanito’s men.

  “Fine,” Vivian said. “I will put my trust in you right now because I have no other choice.”

  Eleanor smiled, making her blue eyes twinkle. “I know the perfect place to take you.”

  “Where is that?” Vivian asked.

  “To my home.” She glanced behind her again then motioned for them to follow. “Come quickly.”

  Anton grasped Vivian’s hand as they hurried behind the older woman. “Gracias, Mrs. Wentworth. I will be truly in your debt if you can get us out of here in one piece.”

  Not another word was spoken as Anton held onto Vivian, running through the woods, dodging the trees and bushes.

  Her mind spun in a whirlwind of confusion. Was her mother truly helping them, and not leading them into a trap? After their time with Raúl, Vivian was leery of trusting anyone. Anton had taught her that nobody could be trusted.

  Twelve years ago, she had believed her mother would always be there, to be the kind of mother all of the other girls had. And she trusted Eleanor to return to reclaim her family. The family that needed her so desperately.

  As hard as it was, Vivian had to believe her mother was not working with Juanito. Yet, she confessed to living in Spain for five years. Coincidence, or had fate lent a hand?

  Anton squeezed her fingers, and she glanced into his soft eyes. His smile warmed her heart and spread comfort throughout her body. Here was one man she could always trust. A man she would love forever.

  They took a different path up a knoll, and Vivian tried to keep pace beside Anton, even while wearing men’s boots. Tonight, her muscles would scream from exertion, but she’d worry about that when it happened. Now, she had to show Anton that she could keep up since he still thought of her as a woman with tender sensibilities. Inwardly, she chuckled. She’d make him proud.

  They climbed up and over, only to find a cliff, which thankfully, wasn’t very steep, but it was someplace to hide, nonetheless.

  Anton stopped and looked over. “We shall hide down there.”

  He jumped over the bush and into the small ravine. Vivian stopped suddenly, and glanced at him for reassurance.

  “It is not far. I will catch you,” he urged and held out his hands.

  She nodded then hopped over the bush and into his arms. He put her down and helped her mother into the gully.

  Anton pressed himself against the wall of the earth as he withdrew his pistol and cocked it. Vivian and Eleanor stood beside him, waiting and listening.

  Beside him, Vivian shivered. His protective arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her next to his hard body. She rested her face against his chest.

  The wait seemed forever, of course, trying to keep quiet made the time creep by, but soon came the heavy hooves from the horses. Vivian held her breath and squeezed her eyes closed, praying the riders would look past them.

  Anton’s arm tightened around her. Beside Vivian, her mother’s hand clasped her shoulder, causing Vivian to look at Eleanor. Wide, frightened eyes met her gaze, so she offered a tentative smile and clutched her mother’s hand.

  Within minutes, the thunder of galloping horses riding away soothed Vivian’s fears. Soon, the men were gone.

  Anton exhaled a heavy breath and released his hold on her, uncocking his pistol and placing it back in the waistband of his trousers. He looked down at her then switched his gaze to her mother. “I think we are safe. For now.”

  Vivian nodded. “At least for now.”

  “Yes,” Eleanor agreed. “But let’s not stay here any longer. I think you two will be safe at my house.”

  “Where is that?” Anton asked.

  Eleanor smiled. “Not too far from here. If we hurry, we will be there by the lunch hour, and my cook is the best around.”

  Vivian scrunched her forehead; confusion working its way into her heart again. Her mother had her own servant? After a slow inspection of the other woman, Vivian’s confusion grew deeper. Why did she not look wealthy now, yet she had on the ship?

  Giving a nod, Vivian allowed Eleanor to lead the way. The truth would soon be uncovered, and frankly, Vivian thou
ght it was past due. After twelve years, she was ready to know.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Vivian stared wide-eyed at the three story, red brick building; the fanciest establishment she’d seen since arriving in port. Green grass surrounded the place, along with a tall black iron fence.

  Eleanor led the way while Vivian and Anton walked side by side behind her. As they neared, women dressed in beautiful silk dresses stood on the wrap-around porch and scattered the lawn, all accompanied by a well-dressed man.

  Vivian eyed each one carefully. They must have walked into some kind of soirée. But so far, nobody questioned them, or their attire, since neither she nor Anton were dressed as elegantly. However, the women called out greetings to Eleanor and appeared genuinely happy to see her, welcoming her back from her trip.

  Eleanor walked up the steps to the porch to the front door, opening it as she hurried inside. As soon as Anton walked in, he grabbed Vivian’s hand, bringing her to a halt. She glanced into his eyes in silent question. His hooded expression didn’t tell her anything, just that he needed to observe the people in the room before they proceeded.

  She tore her attention away from him and took in everything from the hard wooden floors, to the beautiful colorful designs painted on the walls of meadows and the sky, then to the very expensive furniture scattered around the floor. The white open lace curtains allowed the afternoon sunlight to pour through, making everything appear shiny and new.

  All the people in the room were dressed in silks and satins, but it was the way they paired off that made Vivian curious. Usually at soirées people stood together in groups. So why had every woman been paired with a man? The ladies giggled as they whispered something in the men’s ear, or they cuddled next to them in an almost indecent display.

  Eleanor started up the staircase, then stopped and turned toward Vivian and Anton, who still stood in observation.

  “If you’ll follow me, I will show you to your room.”

  “Forgive me, Mrs. Wentworth, but I must protest,” Anton stated loudly.

  An uneasy feeling washed over Vivian. Something in the tone of his voice made her alert, and suspicious.