She smiled at Vivian, and then turned to leave, but Vivian reached a hand out and grabbed her arm. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Certainly, my dearest.”
“Do you know what Matthew did when he was sixteen that put him out of commission for a few months?”
Eleanor stared at Vivian for the longest time in silence, her eyes filling with tears. She nodded. “He broke his arm when he fell out of the tree. Apparently, he’d been watching a girl in her bedroom window like a Peeping Tom and was discovered when he accidentally fell out, breaking his arm in the process.”
“Do you know what happened when I turned eighteen?”
Keeping her smile, Eleanor stepped closer. She shifted the shoes under one arm as she stroked Vivian’s cheek with her fingers. “You were offered a teaching position at the school once you graduated, but you turned it down to take care of your sickly father.”
A dam of tears leaked through Vivian’s eyes, those she’d wanted to keep hidden. Her lips trembled when she nodded. “You...you really kept track of us?”
The shoes dropped from her mother’s arms when she gathered Vivian against her bosom. Eleanor stroked her daughter’s hair with a loving hand.
“Every day of your lives. Since your father wouldn’t let me near, I needed to know how you fared. I missed you so much—” A sob stopped her words.
Years of anguish and unhappiness poured from Vivian as she clung to her mother and cried. How she wanted to erase the past and have her mother in her life every day, but it was impossible. For now, she must savor the moment and cherish it.
“Please forgive me, my darling daughter.” Eleanor kissed Vivian’s head. “I wanted to be with my children, but couldn’t. Your father knew how to rip my heart out and punish me for lying to him, but I knew my children suffered along with me.”
“We did.” Vivian raised her head and looked at her mother through a teary vision. “Every day you were gone.”
“But I’m here now.” She smiled and wiped the tears from Vivian’s cheeks. “I want to be here from this day forward. I want to be your mother...if you’ll allow me.”
“Oh, Mother.” She cried harder and hugged her, burying her face in her mother’s bosom.
Vivian didn’t even realize her mother moved them to the bed until she laid on soft pillows as a blanket was thrown over her. Her mother gathered her in her embrace again and held her until Vivian fell asleep.
* * * *
Anton slowed the horse Eleanor had given him as he neared the sleeping town he and Vivian had visited earlier that day. He prayed there would be a good excuse not to take Vivian with him this time, because he didn’t want to upset Lucinda or have her worried. Thankfully, when he checked on Vivian, she was resting peacefully. Eleanor had told him they’d talked, and Vivian forgave her, which made his heart light.
Now...if everything would work out perfect with Lucinda, his future might be getting better, as well.
Clouds covered the moon and didn’t give him much light as he crept back to Lucinda’s hacienda. Every few feet he stopped and surveyed the area, keeping a sharp eye out for his uncle or the ruthless men who worked for him. A small wind blew against his face, slightly cooling his heated cheeks. Trying to keep hidden was more work than he’d anticipated.
Finally, he made it to the yard, then through the gate. He stopped again and listened. In the distance, the gentle strum of a guitar and familiar folk song from one of the neighboring homes drifted through the air, bringing back the reminder of his lost years as a boy...years that had been filled with joy and love. Although his padre loved him, the love was stronger with Lucinda’s familia.
Through the kitchen window, a low burning lantern sat on the table. Resting his hand on the doorknob, he took a deep breath and prayed all would go his way. He turned the handle and the door clicked open. With his heart beating in a fierce rhythm, he stepped inside. A cinnamon scent wafted through the air and shook his memory. He grinned. She had made his favorite sticky buns.
“Niňera? Lucinda? Are you there?” he spoke in Spanish.
The rustle of material came from the far corner of the darkened hallway, and he sucked in his breath. From the shadows formed a figure of a round, short woman, waddling closer.
“Lucinda? Is that you?”
“Stand by the light,” the familiar voice commanded.
Anton smiled as tears stung his eyes. With a chest tight with emotion, he kept his stance straight as he walked to the table to stand next to the lantern.
From the quiet room came her gasp. Through the semi-darkness he saw her hand fly to her throat. “Anton.”
Tears of joy filled his eyes. “Lucinda? Please do not deny my presence. I need you now.”
The older woman took another step closer, still not quite into the light. Her hands twisted against her middle as she shook her head. “It is very dangerous, my boy. Men want to kill you, and they will kill me if I say I know you.”
“It is Juanito, the half-brother of my padre. He is trying to claim Padre Island. I cannot allow him to do this. The inheritance is mine, not his.”
“He is a powerful man.”
“Sí, but he must be stopped. And I am the only man who can stop him.”
“Impossible,” she grumbled.
“No, Lucinda. All I need is to take my father’s ring and my certificate of birth to the King of Spain and prove my identity.”
“Juanito Ballí plans on stopping you.”
“I will not allow him this privilege.”
She stepped closer, the light barely touching her face. Wrinkles he had never seen before creased the older woman’s skin around her sad eyes and frown. Pain tugged at his heart.
“I believe you,” she whispered.
“Tell no one of our meeting. I have what Juanito wants, and I will not relent.”
Her hand moved up to swipe under her moist eyes. “May the Good Lord be with you, then.”
He walked to the door and stopped before opening it. “Lucinda?” He looked over his shoulder at the woman who was as close to him as his madre. “How did Juanito find you when he never knew about you before?”
“I do not know. But he has ways. He sent one of his men to warn me—a slender, young, handsome man that did not appear dangerous when I first talked with him. He was charming when he showed me your picture and asked questions about your past. I told him I was your niňera. He looked surprised at first, then he became angry. That was when he threatened me.”
Confusion swept over Anton and he shook his head. “There was only one man?”
“Sí.”
“Very strange. I thought my uncle sent all of his henchmen to do his dirty deeds. How long ago did this happen?”
“Just the other day.”
He nodded. “My uncle knows I am here. Nonetheless, I will keep a cautious eye out for a man of this description.” He opened the door.
“Anton?”
He met Lucinda’s gaze.
“Please be careful.”
A knot of emotion caught in his throat and made it hard to swallow. “I will.”
As he rode back to the brothel, his mind kept going over what she had told him. Things just didn’t add up. So far, all the men he had run across who worked for his uncle had all been large, powerful and middle aged. True, they’d all been charming, but the physical description Lucinda gave him just didn’t fit. Slender? Handsome? And younger?
Putting his confusion aside, he kicked his heels into the horse’s belly, pushing the animal faster. Apparently, his uncle was one step ahead of him. Anton couldn’t have that.
As he rounded a hill, a bright orange flaming light appeared above the trees surrounding Eleanor’s brothel. Smoke hung in the air. His heart dropped, causing his whole body to shake, but he pushed the horse faster. Screams and crying absorbed his ears as the whores and the servants rushed from the water well to the house, throwing water upon the flames. Most of the fire was out, thank heavens, but he couldn’t breathe—and the thick smok
e had nothing to do with it.
He jumped off his horse and ran to the nearest whore. “Nancy? Where is Eleanor? Where is Vivian?”
She wiped her tear-stained face and pointed toward the tree. Leaning against it was Eleanor while the cook tended to her wounds. He rushed to her and knelt by her side. Both eyes had been bruised and swollen, and her lip cut and bleeding. The cook wrapped a bandage around her dainty wrist.
“Eleanor, what happened?”
The older woman cried and shook her head. “I tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t believe me.”
He knelt beside her and grasped her shoulders. “Where is Vivian?” he demanded in a stronger voice.
“They...took her.”
Nausea rose to his throat, all the while his heart ripped apart. “They? Do you mean my...uncle’s men?”
The older woman nodded and cried louder. “They were too strong for me. I couldn’t stop them.” She lifted her hand and held a folded piece of paper. “This is for you.”
With shaky fingers, Anton unfolded the letter and held it up to the light still coming from the fire. What would his uncle do to Vivian? All the letter said was they had Vivian. In order to get her back, Anton needed to come for her—and bring what his uncle wanted.
Invisible pain stabbed Anton’s chest, bending him over. He clutched the paper to his mouth, holding back the cries straining in his throat as tears stung his eyes. His uncle would use her as bait...and he’d kill her once he received what he was after.
The ring. It had to be. Juanito’s men had been after it on the ship, and they wanted it now. It was the only way his uncle could claim the island.
In today’s market, the price of Padre Island would be great. Juanito would live a life of luxury forever. The island was Anton’s rightful inheritance, and he should keep it for his sons and their sons. But was it worth risking and maybe losing the only woman he’d ever loved? He couldn’t hand over his ring, yet he couldn’t let Juanito torture Vivian, either.
Rocking back on his heels, he reached into his shirt and withdrew the ring hanging on a gold chain around his neck. His heart ached, and he closed his fingers around the jewelry in a tight fist. Curse his uncle for making him choose. Curse his father for not stopping Juanito years ago. And curse Anton’s tender heart for loving Vivian more than life itself.
Wiping the moisture under his eyes, he stood and took a deep breath. Whoever took Vivian couldn’t be that far ahead of him. Anton knew where they would go. Padre Island.
But, it was a two day trip to sail from Spain to the island. His uncle may do terrible things to Vivian during that time. Anton couldn’t allow that to happen. He must get to the ship before it sailed.
“Eleanor, I will get her back. I promise.”
He jumped to his feet and dashed toward the horse, his heart beat harder with each step. He wouldn’t have just let Juanito’s men take Vivian without a fight.
The dark night enveloped him as he rode toward the main town. Shops had closed. People were nowhere in sight. Juanito planned this kidnapping perfectly and knew when Anton would be gone.
As he rode toward the docks, he searched for signs of his uncle’s men. Heartache twisted in his chest from the thought that Vivian’s body may be lying somewhere, undiscovered. He couldn’t think this way. His uncle would use her as leverage. And until Anton handed the ring over, Vivian would be safe.
The clouds moved away from the moon, helping him see the road better. But, something out of the ordinary captured his attention. A cloth hung on the limb of a tree, and flapped in the breeze. He slowed his steed, snatched the white fabric, and rubbed it between his finger and thumb. Felt like part of a woman’s shift. He lifted it to his nose and took in a deep breath. The faint hint of jasmine hung on the cloth.
He smiled. Vivian. She must have ripped this off and left it for him as a clue. He’d have to remember to tell her she thought like a great detective in helping him to find her.
Along the path, she’d left other small objects for him to notice. The tie from her bonnet, and closer to the docks, he found her bootlace. That’s my girl.
Anton urged the horse faster. He’d find his uncle and personally tear the man’s heart out. Juanito had killed too many people, and it was time his power came to a stop.
The pink tint on the horizon let him know the sun would make its appearance soon. Anton must sneak on his uncle’s ship before that happened. After he had Vivian safe in his arms, then and only then would he put a stop to his uncle’s tyranny.
Amongst the ships docked, Anton recognized the one that had been following them during their travels to Spain...the same ship Raúl had tried to take Vivian on.
Anton ducked behind a crate. Peering through the slats of wood, he noticed a group of men standing near the gangplank. All dressed in the expensive clothing his uncle insisted his men wear, and all drinking out of their own bottle of whiskey.
Anton gritted his teeth. None had a care in the world. They were all protected by Juanito’s powerful hand.
One man clapped another on the shoulder, and then walked onto the ship. When the other man turned and looked toward town, Anton sucked in his breath. Dios Mio! By all that was holy, what was Anton’s manservant, Pedro, doing with Juanito’s men?
Bile rose in Anton’s throat, his heart breaking into tiny pieces. Betrayal’s ugly claws wrapped around him and squeezed tightly.
Pedro was the traitor.
No wonder Anton’s uncle had been one step behind him the whole time...because Pedro knew what Anton was doing. He fisted his hands and brought them to his pounding head, closing his eyes. How long had his so-called friend been in Juanito’s employ? Anton’s stomach lurched, and he clenched his jaw. Had Pedro been lying to him all this time?
Breathing slowly in through his nose and out his mouth, he tried to calm his anger, but the more he thought about Pedro’s treachery, the more upset Anton became. He must use this frustration and let it guide him on the ship. His anger would be his weapon...along with his pistol.
Within minutes, all the men who’d been gathered by the gangplank walked onto the ship. Anton crept in the shadows until he reached the water. Immersed in the cool liquid, he swam toward the ship. Every few strokes, he stopped, looked, and strained to listen for any sign of being discovered. His uncle would know Anton would do all he could to save Vivian, which meant Juanito would be ready for when Anton made his move.
This only meant he needed to be more cautious.
He reached the ship and held to the side as he listened for signs of alarm. Nothing. Although his heart told him to hurry, his mind told him to be careful. Juanito wanted to win—no matter whose lives were taken.
* * * *
Vivian’s head pounded so hard it threatened to split her skull apart. What in the blazes happened? Since it hurt too much to open her eyes, she tried lifting her hand to her face, but found it useless. Somehow, her limbs had become heavy weights.
Through the intense pain throbbing through every inch of her body, she struggled to see. A familiar scent hung in the air and tickled her nose, but she couldn’t remember what it could be. Her body rested upon something soft, but for the life of her, she didn’t recall her mother’s bed being this uncomfortable.
Then her memory cleared, and she remembered being hit over the head. Three men forced her out of the brothel while two others beat her mother. Before they left, they set fire to her mother’s place. Through her groggy state, she still remembered to leave scraps of clothing along the way for Anton to see. She had no doubt he would find her.
The movement of her surroundings rolled like waves...just like it did when she sailed with Anton. Her stomach lurched, and she peeled her eyes open. They were on a ship! How long had they been sailing?
The bright light straining her blurred vision made her squint. She mouthed Anton’s name, but her voice only croaked. Cotton dryness lodged in her throat, and she swallowed. “Anton?”
A deep, unfamiliar, eerie chuckle came fr
om within the room. She shivered. Blinking, she tried to focus and get her bearings. The light from the lamp fell on the man sitting in front of her only a few feet away. He had dark skin like Anton’s, but this man’s formal attire was far different than she had seen before.
He sat as regal as any prince. Ribbons and gold metals draped across the dark suit covering his broad chest. His arm rested on the table next to him as he drummed his fingers on the hard wood. Diamonds from his rings glittered in the light.
“Who...” She swallowed again. “Who are you?” She tried to move her hands, but the rope tied around her wrists burned her skin. She tested her feet, and they too were bound. “Why am I tied?”
He chuckled again, and the evil sound grated on her nerves. She grimaced and her stomach rolled.
“Pretty señorita. It is obvious why Antonio has taken a liking to you. Not only are you very beautiful, but you have a wild spirit most men would love to tame.”
She clenched her jaw. This must be Anton’s dominant uncle. He even dressed fancier than the King of England, for heaven’s sake. “Who are you and what did you do with Anton?”
He leaned forward, his face coming into view. She sucked in a breath. He did resemble Anton quite a bit. He had the same dark, wavy hair, except the older man had streaks of silver near his ears. But he had the same strong jaw covered with a trimmed goatee that enhanced his powerful appearance. It wouldn’t be hard at all to prove Anton was related.
Confidence built inside her. Juanito couldn’t prove Anton was illegitimate, especially if the all-and-mighty uncle didn’t have Anton’s ring. That could be why Juanito had kidnapped her. Perhaps he wanted to make a trade. Her heart sank. No matter what happened, Anton couldn’t do that. He had to prove his identity first.
“Who am I?” he asked. Leaning back, he linked his fingers across his stomach. “I may be your worst terror if you do not cooperate with me.”
He narrowed his eyes on her, and chills ran up her spine.
“What do you want?” She tried not to let her voice waver or her body shake. But, inside her stomach her nerves rolled quicker than the waves outside the ship.
The Spanish Outlaw Page 21
