The Christmas Treasure

by Kane, Mallory

  She was limp, held up only by his hands wrapped around her upper arms. Her face was red and blotchy from crying and her eyes were swollen, the purple shadows more prominent.

  "Look at me, Lorilla," Gabriel said flatly. "Look at me!"

  She lifted her gaze to his, and the sadness there put yet another crack in his heart. She sniffed raggedly.

  "You lost the baby?" The words came out harsh, strained. Gabriel held himself together with the force of his clenched jaw.

  Lorilla nodded forlornly. "I'm sorry, Gabriel. I'm so sorry."

  "When? When did it happen?"

  "Yesterday."

  "Yesterday. I see. Why did you lie to me?" His jaw ached, his eyes burned. He felt as though each word he spoke slashed across his heart like a saber. He had not realized how much hope he had pinned on her until now.

  Images of Elena, writhing in pain, the bedclothes soaked in blood, flashed before his eyes. She had miscarried twice. Then, on that awful night, while he was away, she had born his child, and she and the child had died. Angrily, forcefully, Gabriel pushed the agonizing memories away. He would not think of her. He could not.

  Throwing himself up off the bed, Gabriel pulled on breeches and boots. When he turned back toward Lorilla, she huddled in the center of the bed, her arms wrapped around herself.

  "Don't ever lie to me, Lorilla. Ever!"

  "Wh-where are you going?"

  Gabriel closed his eyes against the fear and loneliness in her voice. He turned away from her, unable to stand the sadness in her eyes. "I've wasted too much time here. We need to ride out and search for early colts." He kept his voice cold and distant. The irony was not wasted on him. He was leaving his wife, who had just lost their baby, to go search for newborn colts, in order to bring them to the rancho for safety.

  "Gabriel?" Lorilla's voice was pleading, but Gabriel knew that whatever she asked of him, he could not provide, so he cut her off.

  "Goodbye," he snapped. "I'll be gone several days." Then he stepped through the door and slammed it.

  h

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It was more than a week before Gabriel returned. Lorilla had recovered completely and had settled back into her routine. With Josepha's reluctant help, she had planted a garden. Josepha was appalled that the Patrona insisted upon digging in the dirt, but Lorilla managed to placate her somewhat by promising to grow some flowers as well as herbs and vegetables.

  She was replanting some pretty flowers she had found in the woods when Gabriel and his men rode in. She watched her husband, seated on a beautiful black gelding, as he directed the men, who led five colts. Smiling at the little horses, she wiped the back of her hand across her brow, then glanced at the glove she wore. It was caked with mud, and now so was her forehead.

  She looked down at herself, dressed in her oldest work clothes. If she planned to entice Gabriel to continue trying to have a child, it wouldn't do for him to see her covered with mud. She brushed the worst of the mud and dirt off her skirt, and prepared to slip into the house to wash and change before Gabriel finished with his men, but she was too late.

  Here he came, striding toward her. Her breath caught at the mere sight of him. He wore leather chaps, which hugged his thighs and flared out below his knees. His shirt was partially undone, and the sleeves were rolled up. A sweaty bandanna was knotted around his neck. He had on leather gloves, but he'd taken off his hat, leaving a thin red mark on his forehead. His blue eyes shone like stars in his sun-browned face. Lorilla bit her lip nervously and tried to calm the flutter of her heart and the ache of need that welled within her.

  She smiled tentatively, but when he stopped in front of her, his face was shuttered, only the sharp glint in his eyes hinting at any feeling at all. "Senora, how do you fare?"

  "Gabriel! I'm fine. You found five colts?"

  He nodded without taking his eyes off her. "Si. Yes. We did well. We will go again in a few days."

  "Oh." Lorilla couldn't mask her disappointment.

  "What are you doing out here?" he asked.

  She brushed furtively at her bottom. "I must look a sight. I'm planting a garden. We'll have fresh vegetables."

  "You look like a child playing in the mud. Why don't you let one of the servants do this?"

  "No. I want to do it myself."

  "Whatever for?"

  "Why did you go with your men to search for colts?"

  He shrugged. "I like to see the colt, choose the ones I think are healthiest."

  "I know! Look." Lorilla bent down and picked up a handful of dirt. She held it out to him, brown, rich, with an earthworm wriggling in the middle of it. "See? The soil is alive, just like the colts."

  "The soil is dirty, just like my wife."

  Lorilla thought she detected amusement in Gabriel's voice, although his face betrayed no emotion. She smiled.

  "Well, it's fun. You should try it."

  His gaze raked her from head to foot and back. "I think not."

  Lorilla moistened her lips with her tongue and brushed her hands together. "I'm sorry," she said. He didn't understand. "I'll go change clothes."

  As she turned, Gabriel's gloved hand on her arm stopped her. "Would you like to see the colts?"

  "Could I?" She smiled at him. "Oh, please."

  They walked together to the corral, where the men had placed the colts. The young horses were nervous, moving restlessly around each other.

  "Oh, Gabriel. They're so young. What about their mothers? Do you just steal them away?"

  "Wait and see. The mares have followed. Later, the men will be able to circle around behind them and capture them. The colts will have their mothers, chiquita."

  Lorilla tore her gaze away from the colts to look at Gabriel. He was leaning against the fence, watching her, his gaze unreadable.

  She remembered her grubby appearance, and blushed. "I'd better change." She turned to go, then turned back. "Gabriel?"

  He raised a brow.

  "Thank you for showing me the colts. I'm glad you're home. Very glad."

  He studied her for a moment, and she thought she saw a softening in his eyes, but he didn't say anything.

  "Oh, I almost forgot. A courier brought a letter for you."

  He straightened and frowned down at her. "Where is it?"

  "On the desk in the front hall. Josepha can show you. Were you expecting something?"

  "No." He turned his back and headed toward the house.

  Lorilla watched him hungrily. He walked easily, gracefully, with casual confidence. As she watched, he pulled off his gloves and slapped them against his thigh. The masculine gesture sent a thrill of aching desire through her.

  Shaking her head, she pulled off her own gloves. They had been married more than four months, and she was more susceptible to her husband than ever. She had missed him with a deep, aching loss while he was gone. And now that he'd returned, all she could think about was renewing the closeness they had lost.

  As she walked toward the house, she examined her feelings. She had nothing to compare them with. She had never been courted, never been kissed, before Gabriel. He was the only man she had ever known, and yet she knew no other man could make her feel the way he did.

  Lorilla walked through the kitchen and asked Josepha to send up bath water. Then she went up to her room and wrapped a robe around her as she waited for Benito to fill the hip bath.

  Stepping into the deliciously warm water, Lorilla scrubbed herself, then relaxed, letting her eyelids close and her thoughts wander. But her mind kept coming back to one subject, her husband.

  Suddenly, unbidden, a thought pierced through her drowsiness. She sat bolt upright, splashing water. Her hand flew to her mouth. Could she be falling in love with him? A nervous laugh escaped her lips. The very thought of him made her tingle. When he was gone, she felt like a part of herself had been ripped away. The agony of her miscarriage hurt twice as much because of the hurt it caused him.

  "Oh, dear," she gasped, and pressed her li
ps together, fighting the tremulous smile that wouldn't go away. She was in love.

  Apprehension rippled through her. Oh she was lost now. She knew Gabriel didn't feel the same way. In fact, she wasn't even sure what her future held. He'd been so angry at her when he found out she'd hidden her miscarriage from him.

  Or was it really anger? Had the anger been his way of dealing with the pain? She had turned inward, suffering quietly, and coming to grips with the loss on her own. Gabriel had lashed out, then escaped.

  But what was he running from? The grief of losing another child? The fear that she would die like Elena? Or merely the irritating presence of his wife who had failed him? Lorilla shivered at this last possibility.

  The door opened behind her. "I'm ready, Josepha," she said without looking around. She stood, waiting for Josepha to hand her the bath towel. Instead, she found herself wrapped in it and in Gabriel's strong arms.

  "Wrong again, Lorilla. I am not Josepha."

  She turned, aware that the towel did not cover her completely.

  Gabriel let go of her and took a step back, but his eyes feasted on her wet naked body. After a long moment, he swallowed and dragged his gaze away from her. "You should dress. Josepha or Benito might come in at any moment."

  Lorilla stepped out of the tub. "They won't if they saw you come up," she remarked, looking up at him through her lashes.

  Gabriel clamped his jaw and turned away. "Get dressed," he flung back over his shoulder.

  Seeing his tense jaw, his stiff back, Lorilla made a decision. She would believe that he was hurt and heartbroken at the loss of his child. She decided to believe that he cared for her. It was the only way she could cope, the only way she could help him.

  If she thought he was merely angered by her failure to conceive, then she might as well leave. She loved him. She couldn't live here if he didn't care for her.

  She took a long breath, then let the towel slide to the floor. Naked, she walked over to him and put her hand on his chiseled forearm. "Gabriel?" she murmured.

  He looked at her, his eyes like storm clouds, and drew a ragged breath. "Lorilla, don't." He started to turn away again, but she caught his face between her hands.

  "Please don't turn away from me. You've been gone so long." She bit her lip nervously. "I need you."

  His face paled, and his eyes grew darker, if that were possible.

  Lorilla stood on tiptoe and touched her lips to his. "Please?" she whispered against his mouth.

  Without volition, his mouth moved over hers and Lorilla abandoned herself to his kiss. It was always the same. His kiss drained her of everything but desire. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

  After a while, he tore his mouth from hers. "Lorilla, I can't do this."

  "Why not?" she purred, even as fear crept up her spine. If he didn't desire her, then they were both lost. "It's perfectly natural. You are my husband. Therefore I have certain expectations." She made her voice light, teasing.

  Gabriel wrapped his hands around her upper arms and pushed away from her. He stared at her and shook his head. "No. I can't. I couldn't stand it if you…"

  His words sent hope soaring through her, overriding her fear. She put her hands against his chest, and met his gaze, her eyes heavy-lidded with yearning.

  "I want you, Gabriel," she said, amazed at her boldness. "I need you." Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.

  "Please." What would she do if he turned her down? She had never done anything so bold in her life. Her knees gave out, not from desire, but from fear, and she let Gabriel's hands take her weight.

  He pulled her into his embrace, and she reached for his mouth with hers. Arching her body, she pressed her breasts against his chest, and her belly against his rapidly growing arousal. He groaned and Lorilla felt a glimmer of triumph.

  She found her footing and moved toward the bed. Gabriel hesitated, but then with a low growl, he picked her up and lay her on the bed, then lay beside her.

  Lorilla tugged at his shirt, and pulled on his belt to loosen it, all the while holding him to her with kisses. He took over and undressed himself then turned back to her.

  Lorilla sighed at the welcome feel of his body. She arched her back and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Gabriel, now."

  He lifted his head. Lorilla saw the naked fear in his eyes. Again she cupped his face in her hands. "Gabriel, I swear to you, by the Holy Mother of God, I will not die."

  His breath caught on a sound that might have been a sob, and his eyes glistened. Lorilla kissed him. "I swear. I don't know how I know, Gabriel, but I do know. It is my solemn promise to you. I will not die. I will have your baby. And I will make you happy that you took a chance on me."

  Gabriel buried his head in the hollow of her shoulder, and for a few moments, they lay entwined. Lorilla felt the dampness of his tears against her neck. She stroked his hair and murmured to him, saying silly, nonsense things.

  Then he moved and his body hardened with desire. He raised his head, blindly seeking her mouth. She accepted his kisses and caresses, moving with him as if they were two parts of the same whole. They reached the pinnacle together.

  Lorilla knew something magical had happened to them. She and Gabriel had shared their souls. They had bared themselves, inside and out, to each other in that wondrous act of love. Nothing would be the same again.

  His seed had flourished in her. She was with child, again.

  Lying there, with his comforting weight upon her, breathing in concert with him, Lorilla had no idea how she knew, but she did. She longed to tell him, to share her joy, but she didn't dare. She couldn't bear to hurt him again. She would keep her secret until she was confident the baby would thrive. Tears welled in her eyes. Tears of joy, of love, of completion.

  She didn't allow the niggling thought that failing again might destroy her chances of ever binding Gabriel to her.

  h

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  "What do you mean by a while?" Lorilla demanded one morning a couple of weeks later. She'd been basking in the afterglow of early morning loving when he'd suddenly rolled off the bed and began to dress. Then he'd made his devastating announcement.

  Gabriel pulled on his shirt and shrugged, not meeting her eyes.

  "Gabriel? The letter. What did it say?"

  "I told you," he said gruffly. "It's from the territorial governor. I had a suspicion he was going to ask me to travel to Washington, D.C., with him."

  Lorilla sat up. "Well if you had a suspicion, why didn't you tell me?"

  He glanced at her, then back at his belt, which he buckled around his lean waist. "I didn't know for sure until the letter came yesterday. Nothing had been decided. Then, before I had a chance to tell you last night, you…distracted me." He gestured, almost angrily.

  "Don't blame me. It's your fault you didn't tell me. So when will you leave and how long will you be gone?" she asked stiffly. She rested her hand on her abdomen, already protective of the tiny life inside her.

  "He wishes to leave by June first. It's a long way to Washington."

  Apprehension shot through her with the force of a bullet. "I know it's a long way to Washington. How long?"

  Gabriel quit fussing with his belt and looked at her. "Probably six months at least."

  "Oh my God," she breathed. "That's so long."

  Gabriel walked around the bed and sat down. He pulled her into his arms, and put his lips against her temple.

  "You'll be fine. You have everything you need here. You have that garden you were grubbing around in, and you'll have to manage all the accounts, not just the household. You'll be so busy you won't miss me."

  She shook her head. "No. I'll miss you. I already miss you. I have everything I need here." She lay her palm on his chest. "Oh, Gabriel, Take me with you."

  He covered her hand with his, then kissed her gently. "That's impossible. We'll be riding rough. It will be only men."

  He moved to rise but she threw her arms around
him. "I can't stand six months without you."

  He smiled and smoothed her hair. "Yes, you can. You're a strong woman, Senora Beltran. Strong and determined."

  Three weeks later, it was time for Gabriel to leave. On that last morning, it was pure torture to drag himself from their bed. Lorilla had been insatiable the night before, as had he. Just the thought of their almost sleepless night was enough to cause his body to throb again. But as much as he wanted to take his wife in his arms and make sweet, slow, morning love with her, he was already late. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, smoothing back the fiery tangles of her hair and smiled when she murmured his name softly in her sleep.

  Rising, he quickly washed at the basin, then donned traveling clothes. He needed to leave within the hour to meet the governor. He sighed, looking back at the appealing mound of bedclothes. One small, pale foot had worked its way free of the sheets, and Gabriel had the absurd desire to kiss each of Lorilla's small, pink toes.

  But there was something more pressing he needed to do before he left. With a last, longing glance at the bed, he left the room. Downstairs, he quickly ate a couple of pastries and drank coffee as Josepha railed at him.

  "You are muy stubborn, Gabriel. Why does not the governor find a different guide? You have obligations here."

  Gabriel emptied his cup and held it out for more coffee. "You know the answer to that, old woman. If I were just a guide, it would be different. But I have worked with him ever since the war to bring Mexicans and Anglos together. Now he has been invited to Washington." He leveled a quelling gaze at her. "I have no need to explain myself to

  you."

  "You watch your mouth, youngster," Josepha grumbled, but Gabriel saw a twinkle in her eye. "You are not too old for me to pinch your ear."

  "Ha," he retorted, as he finished his coffee. "You cannot even reach my ear." He stood. "Josepha, take care of Lorilla."

  The twinkle left his nanny's eye and she nodded. "You can be assured, Senor. I care for her as if she were my own."