by S. L. Hawke
Juan was standing there. My little Juan. In a dress.
*******
McKenna strode up behind Emma.
“You look lovely tonight, Emma.” She could feel his breath near the back of her neck. He was doing it again, as he had done each time he found her alone. Only one thing could happen next. Emma closed her eyes for a moment, trying to make sure she did not respond to any of his gestures. The image of him breaking down her front door…she clasped her own hands together.
He has predator instincts, I’ll grant him that. McKenna had stealth, had approached Emma from behind and was closing in on her, but her ornate dress prevented him from coming too close. The bustle also prevented her from turning or moving around too quickly and giving him the satisfaction of having ‘spooked’ her. For once these clothes are useful, Emma thought to herself.
“Hello, Ian.” Emma kept her voice as level and free of warmth as she could.
His sour smell and that horrible lavender lotion he wore made her sick. Emma took two large steps forward to create some distance between them, making sure he could not grab her. But she felt him follow and then in one movement an arm was about her waist. Emma pulled her right elbow in to her chest to block what she feared was next, another attempt at a kiss, when the smell of fresh pine and water enveloped her and the lips that covered hers were not McKenna’s. The mouth was clean and lingered on her lips long enough to calm her and reassure her he had good intentions. Emma could not help but respond to this wonderful, fluid caress of the mouth. She looked up into the face of A.J. Sloan. He immediately turned away.
“Ian McKenna?” Sloan’s voice was even, strong and commanding. A.J. himself was right between them. He spun Emma away, as if the skirt and bustle were no obstacle. Emma, corset tied too tight, could hardly breathe. He kissed me. He knows now I am no whore. With the grace of a dancer, Sloan had guided Emma directly behind him as he faced McKenna and his frame hid her, much like Faustino’s had that fateful night not long ago. She wanted to speak but the two men were focused on each other like dogs about to fight.
McKenna’s slicked back hair emphasized his angular forehead.
“Stand aside.” McKenna’s eyes were icy, controlled, and hinted at the potential for deeper violence. He looked startled as well, that Emma was from this point in front of everyone, spoken for. That is what a public kiss says to everyone who is white, Emma thought. A.J.’s giving me room to maneuver. “I don’t recall you mentioning being an acquaintance of her Highness?” McKenna was as tense as dried rawhide. “Tell him, Emma, how we are acquainted,” McKenna said and moved forward until A.J. and he were practically nose to nose. “Do not challenge me on this!” he whispered to A.J. “Not here.” The tone was odd, Emma thought, as if they might have been friends and as if A.J. were simply putting on a show for his benefit.
“Ian, this is our House’s new Head of Security, Mr. A.J. Sloan.” Emma held herself straight, bolstered by A.J.’s presence.
“We are already acquainted.” The words were stiff but made Emma feel a sense of victory over the moment. She knew how they were acquainted because she had walked A.J. to the place where they had met. Emma again felt encouraged to speak up.
“Ian and my late husband Liam did some business together,” she said. “In gunpowder and other mining designs.” Emma suddenly understood what else A.J. could do for the cause and, she hoped, might be inspired to do if she opened the door for him a bit. She felt giddy at this knowledge and pressed on. The things we could accomplish together!
“Compact shell casings, over gunpowder.” Would they hear, would they both be intelligent enough to hear of what use this design could be? There were a tense few minutes as the men simply stood facing each other, taking measure of each other’s ability to hurt the other in a fight. Men are such animals! Emma was losing patience. “I will leave you two to discuss the future of such a design.” As best Emma could do, she strode off, feeling like she had escaped a trap. When she turned to look at both of them, A.J.’s green eyes were sharp and focused. Emma felt like their evening was far from over. Far from it.
*******
McKenna was equal to my height. His eyes held mine with more animal than human intelligence, but then, his eyes turned to steel.
“There are some things that are none of your business.” McKenna had a low timbre to his voice. For some, they might become uneasy, but for me I shifted my stance, feeling Emma’s hands resting on my back. I had no qualms about defending her. I took a step closer to him. Immense relief that she knew now that I was party to her disguise made me feel somewhat invincible.
“That may be. And there are some things that cannot be compromised, like one’s position in the scheme of things.”
He stepped back, like I hoped he would. His eyes narrowed, and I was relieved that he understood. We would sort this out later, but I could not let him feel betrayed, not yet.
“Touch her again, and we are finished.” McKenna maintained his place, but his gaze was on Emma now as if he wanted to consume all of her. She had moved away from me after publically drawing attention to her husband’s work. She had just given me the ace I needed to get in with the thieves. McKenna as well had heard her remark but was deaf to it, remembering only my brash action. The feel of Emma’s lips on mine was like whiskey in my veins.
McKenna shifted into a sideward stance. He was seasoned and most likely armed. With what, I wanted to find out. I closed the distance. McKenna stayed put. We faced each other at angles, like wolves.
“The Duchess instructed me to keep her Highness’ company should certain interests become…undesirable...” My voice also held a slight growl. McKenna did not move. Nor did I.
“But I respect a man of his word,” I said, reminding McKenna of his vow to kill me if I touched Emma. McKenna took a step back and seemed to relax. The response startled me but I took advantage of the moment and stepped forward, making him move even further back. “As a former resident of the Islands, you should know that kisses have little value than as an expression of welcome and aloha, a word that has no translation in English.”
Here McKenna took a sharp inhale. His gaze studied me, looking for deception, for something to direct his anger upon.
“Are you saying that female independence is a part of this…culture?” McKenna said the last word as if it were an obscenity. I nodded, waiting for a sign from him that he understood I could help him, not prevent him, to achieve his political goal.
“It can make the wrong sort of man crazy,” I said lightly. McKenna’s entire body seemed to relax. He was about to say something more when a form appeared to my left.
“You should not be here.” Virofsky’s voice was like a whip. “And the answer to the reason for your appearance here and your good intentions, Mr. McKenna, will always be no.” Virofsky strode up beside me to face McKenna. McKenna turned his killing focus briefly on Virofsky.
“I would like to give my leave to Emma—” McKenna tried to sidestep us and move towards Emma who was now speaking to another gentleman, who also kissed her, but on one cheek then the other, leaving both McKenna and I, from the way McKenna tensed again, ready to break the bit. McKenna glanced at me again, understanding that I was not betraying him any more than the others who greeted Emma with kisses. As we watched, yet another ‘gentleman’ greeted her with a kiss directly upon her lips.
“Tropical women are too warm for their own good. The sooner Emma marries me, a man of this community, the safer and more proper she will be!” McKenna insisted. “I would see to that.”
Virofsky touched McKenna with his cane.
“Her Royal Highness to you, sir,” Virofsky added with a twist of his neck. “And such a request will never be granted.”
McKenna threw off the cane.
“May I have a word with Mr. Sloan?” McKenna said through his teeth. But his eyes were on Emma. His color rose. She was laughing with a tall, oafish, blond barrel of a man. I felt upset at her laughter, that this blond ogre could ev
en make her laugh. She was my little Juan, and no one else’s. This feeling caught me off guard. I needed to stay focused on the moment. I was here to do a job, for Hiru, for my family.
Virofsky did a sideways nod of European manner, then with his grey gloved hand pointed to the hall. I turned to look at Emma again as I pulled McKenna down the hallway with me. She caught my eye and carefully took her fan, opened it and covered the right side of her face, a Spanish gesture, as she continued to look over it at me. She let the edges of the fan touch her face. Then she lowered her eyes and completely turned away, closing the fan as she did so. Virofsky stepped between me and Emma and gestured with a hand and a nod to go into the hall with McKenna.
“What is your true purpose here?” McKenna demanded with an angry whisper as I walked him to the outside of the cave.
“I’m assisting in Royal Security, under the direction of the Duchess. What is this to you?” I asked even though I understood the answer. “I brought that up at the last meeting.”
“That woman belongs to me.” McKenna stared at me, daring me to challenge him. “You should not have kissed her.”
“I explained what kisses mean to native Hawaiians. That woman is a Princess of both the European and Pacific Rim Court. She favors her mother’s culture more than her Aunt’s. What we mere commoners want from them doesn’t come in to play.” Here I put my hands behind my back. “And I wouldn’t attempt to ‘punish’ the other men who have all kissed her this evening. Some of them might be friends of your cause.”
McKenna turned away and paced like an angry dog. Then he came right up to me and was about to lose his temper when suddenly he backed off, as if remembering something more pressing. He looked back at Virofsky then at me.
“She…she…I…love her. Since I first saw her on the beach. She was…” And here he swallowed. “She was improperly attired and was proud to make me kiss her. Are you saying she allowed it because it meant nothing? She trembled and allowed me. We would have continued had it not been for her uncle’s intrusion. ”
So that is what happened on the beach head. I would have words with Her Royal Highness later. That much was certain. Maybe a little more than just words. “Well, a beautiful woman can have that effect on us.”
McKenna nodded with a flat smile and then exhaled sharply. “She thinks badly of me. I—”
“We need to think about our more pressing plan. After that,” I took a breath, “Well, one step at a time.” I looked to the side, ashamed of this double play. My feelings for Emma could jeopardize everything I came here to do. I did not care. I’d find a way. Emma, little Juan, my little Juan needed my help, my protection.
“Try and find those compact shell casing designs,” McKenna hissed. Then he reached inside his vest pocket and gave me a piece of paper. “I’ll expect you with the shells in seven days. The greaser knows where to find us. ”
“What greaser?” Holding the paper, I opened it carefully and beneath the well-drawn map was the name Faustino Lorenzana. Now it was my turn to tense. The image of Fergus dying in my arms rose up again.
“Lorenzana is part of a large rancho that controls the lands we need. Much will be explained when you make your way to us.”
“Seven days?”
“Is this difficult to achieve? Perhaps I misjudged you.”
“No, I am…eager to participate in this endeavor.”
“There is much to gain, for all involved. That too will be explained when we next meet.”
Then, with a swirl of tails, McKenna left the cave. Virofsky came alongside me and watched him leave the estate. A guard appeared from nowhere it seemed and listened to the quiet Russian commands from Virofsky, then quickly left, no doubt to make sure McKenna was far away from the road home for Emma.
“I believe, as you Americans say, we have a problem?” Virofsky then looked up at me with an amused, but friendly look.
“Yes, he is someone we need to keep an eye upon.”
“What language was that?” Virofsky looked at me, impressed, it would seem. I swallowed.
“Gaelic.” I fiddled with my collar pin. Virofsky nodded with acknowledgment. I was unaware that I had not spoken English during this whole exchange. The only other time that had happened was with the Irishman not long ago, and when my father died. All I wanted was to leave, and perhaps convince Juan, uh, Emma, to spend time with me. This was over for us, her disguise as a stable ‘boy’. In fact, I would make sure it was so.
The room was an assemblage of white families from as far as Watsonville, all in full evening dress. Some of the men, Henry told me, were also part of the Masonic Lodge, a few from another Lodge called The Knights Templar. For a small town, there seemed to be a lot of money and a lot of interest in how that money was spent. I missed Andrew’s company but he was busy with the details, or logistics, he called it, of our mission.
The woman whom I had only seen in trousers and shirts, dirty and smelling of horse, was only a shadow of the woman I saw before me who now haunted the side of the wine cave.
The dress she wore was a shade of greyish pink, with a deep indigo underdress that emphasized her bosom. The tiny gems on the dress made her look as if she were afloat in the heavens. Her neck was simply adorned with a single black pearl. Her earlobes were decorated with gold, diamonds, and sapphires in small, star-like clusters that dangled downward to her bare shoulders. But it was her mouth that I could not look away from. Even outside, as a stable hand, her lips were pink and slightly plump. They distracted me quite often. She seemed to know and would cover her face.
Now they glistened and seemed to shine. They tasted of the Islands, which I missed terribly. Gloves covered the length of her arms, which I had seen partially bare. But now, with her neck and bosom so revealed, the taste of her mouth in my brief steal of a kiss left me with trouble thinking and focusing on anything else. The small waist begged to have my hands upon it. Her hair was piled up, no doubt supplemented with a wig. I knew her own hair was only a shoulder length braid at most. Anguish at what she did with the rest of what was once a magnificent mane, I could only imagine.
Worse yet, her persona of Juan gave us ample opportunity to be with each other, in places a woman of her standing would not be caught. The need to make it right between us and throw all this thieves’ mess into the fire, leaving this problem for others to solve, gnawed at me. Seeing her amidst all this reminded me that I could rest and begin a new life.
Again, I questioned why I took on this mission. Why I of all people was suited to this ridiculous life of intrigue, why I made this choice to come here, and then I looked at Emma, beautiful, passionate — our meeting together like this as two souls that had parted so long ago, they could not believe they had found one another again… My desire for her gave way to frustration at this display of social distance.
“Really, A.J. You shouldn’t stare at her Highness so.” My sister Cynthia’s voice was like a slap upside the head. I turned to look at her, conscious of how hot the room was and how itchy my newly starched collar began to be and how it bit into my neck.
“Is she the one Margaret wrote to me about? The one who needed protection, care, and convincing?” The sarcasm in my voice was unavoidable.
Cynthia looked away, but the muscles in her cheek expressed the anger I was almost explosive with.
“Her real name is Her Royal Highness Emma Nishi Pauhani Leonovna. Her estate was burned down and her husband murdered by someone in this room. Have you made any progress on who might be killing the girls? I suggest you find out who that is before you judge a woman’s reasons for hiding away. And if you truly are as observant as Dorcas has intimated, I also suggest that you take some time and find out what the circumstances are regarding this community before making so swift a judgment.” Then she looked at me, with my own piercing eyes, and walked over to the owners of the local bank, exclaiming all manner of pleasantries.
Memories of our competition and arguments reignited my deep respect for her and joy at being in
her company again. I even found myself wishing she had been a brother instead of a sister. And with that came a bitterness I could not explain. I had yet to even speak to my baby brother, Uriah, since our tussle in my mother’s parlor. His betrayal of Emma made this wound become a thing of disease. For the first time I wondered if Uriah could be the whore killer. The thought chilled me deeply. It was obvious I could not allow Juan to be the bait. But then I had already made this decision yesterday while sitting in that ridiculous jail.
Tonight, I would lay awake wondering how we could ever have a life together without some sacrifice. But not on Emma’s part. She had suffered enough, if what I heard from my sister were true. And my son, what of him? Who murdered Emma’s husband? Who was killing the whores? How did the people of this community allow all of this to happen?
5
I began my journey across the room to let Juan, Emma, that is, know that I could no longer allow her to be the bait in our quest to find the whore killer. To soften the blow I would perhaps show my appreciation for her beauty as a person of Royal Heritage. I was delayed by a number of introductions and small talk. By the time I had reached where I had last seen her, Emma had vanished.
Conscious of how skilled Juan, uh…Emma, was at disappearing quickly, I chastised myself for not doing the job I was hired to do and began to seek her out. She was nowhere to be found. Thankfully, Lam, who was pouring out glasses of champagne from the side cabinet, made a gesture towards a side door, which stood open. Quickly I moved through it.
The door was an escape from the dark cave, taking one into the gentle light of a sheltered garden. Cautiously I began to go through the door but was intercepted by a Russian guard. It was one of my combat opponents from earlier in the day. He sported a black eye. He nodded at me with recognition and stepped aside.
Emma was standing on the stone patio looking down into the forest and the fog-covered ocean beyond. There was a chill in the air, and yet she stood there, bare-shouldered. I removed my jacket and came around to the side so as not to surprise her as I draped the jacket over her caramel smooth skin. I smelled roses and something else, which made me glad to be free of my jacket.
