Her heart pounded harder now that he stood only two feet away, a passion in his eyes that even Irene, innocent as she was, could recognize. She felt weak and warm. “But this time…we are alone,” he told her. He closed his eyes and swallowed. “Irene, you know what I mean.”
She tossed her head, turning away from him. “I like you, Ramon. I have the right to spend my time visiting a friend, whether he’s Mexican or even an Indian.” She faced him again. “If you think I feel the same way toward you and your people as my mother, then you aren’t as smart as I thought. You know how John and I both feel.”
This time it was Ramon who looked embarrassed. He smiled slightly, warning himself to be careful. Perhaps it was possible they could remain friends, but anything more than that was another story. Yet that was all he had been able to think about lately. When he should be thinking about Elena, he was thinking of Irene. When he considered marriage, he imagined Irene in a wedding dress, not Elena. What a fool he was to have such thoughts!
“Do you want to go riding?” Irene asked.
He looked at her in surprise. “What?”
“Your horse is here, and so is mine. We could go riding if we wanted, just for a little while.”
He sighed deeply, glancing around as though he thought he was being watched. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, Ramon, where is the harm? Besides, maybe my mother wouldn’t approve, but my father likes you very much. He wouldn’t mind.” She told herself that somehow these wonderful, passionate feelings meant that everything was going to be all right, that somehow God would see to it that she could be more than just friends with Ramon.
She stepped closer and took his hand, stunned and on fire at its strength and warmth the moment they touched. He squeezed her hand lightly, and in that one touch she was sure that this special, unspoken feeling they shared would lead to the forbidden happiness she wanted to share with him.
“Come on,” she said, putting on a smile that tore at his heart. “Just one short ride.”
Ramon had always prided himself in being strong, but when he was around this young woman, he felt helpless to resist her. He loved the feel of her soft hand, had dreamed about touching other soft places, wondered how her mouth tasted. She was beautiful, sweet and clean and pure. She was nothing like the painted whores in town. Irene Kirkland needed no paint to be beautiful, no low-cut, gaudy dress to display her perfect form.
Today she wore a deep rose-colored velvet riding habit with a waist-length jacket, a matching plumed hat perched slightly to the side of her head. It seemed everything about her was always perfect, from her beautiful face and body to her golden hair and her lovely, expensive clothing. She should have been cold and unfriendly to him, like other rich gringas. But she was always warm and vibrant, attentive and concerned. He had never known anyone like her, looking so untouchable, yet seemingly asking to be touched.
Against all reason, he followed her outside, his whole body literally aching. They both mounted their horses, and Irene led Sierra off at a modest lope before Ramon could do any more objecting. Ramon followed, and Irene suddenly turned to him, laughing.
“I’ll race you,” she told him. Before he could agree or disagree, she was off, heading Sierra at a full gallop into an open valley to the south of Kirkland Bluffs.
Irene rode Sierra hard, but she heard Ramon’s sleek black mare coming closer. Neither of them noticed three men who had already been riding in their direction from the west. Soon Ramon was beside her, and Irene thought how grand he looked on the horse, which was bigger and more muscular than Sierra. She imagined him as a valiant Spanish soldier in a dashing uniform, imagined him living in a king’s palace.
Ramon’s horse began to pass hers, and she rode Sierra harder, enjoying the feel of the wind in her face. She nearly caught up with Ramon but was afraid of exhausting Sierra. She drew back on his reins. “You win,” she shouted, laughing. Ramon slowed his own horse and turned, trotting back toward Irene as she approached him from the other direction. He joined in her laughter.
“I would have beat you a lot worse if you had not had a head start on me, muchacha bonita.”
Irene laughed more, leaning down to pet Sierra’s neck. “Let’s walk them for a while.” She looked at Ramon. “What did you call me a minute ago? A cheat?”
He grinned. “No señorita. I called you muchacha bonita, a pretty girl.”
Her smile faded slightly and she turned away from his gaze. “Gracias, Ramon,” she answered. “Did I say it right?”
“Sí, señorita, you said it just right.”
They rode on in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the scenery and the warm, pretty April day, each on fire for the other, yet both of them afraid to admit it. “Do you—do you have a girl, Ramon?” Irene asked hesitantly, realizing how suggestive and bold the statement sounded, yet unable to bear another moment without knowing. Her heart tightened when he did not answer right away.
“There is a girl down at Hacienda del Sur who is waiting for me,” he finally answered, deciding the best thing to do was discourage Irene Kirkland as much as possible, for he sensed un fuego bajo su piel, a fire under her skin, a fire he longed to build into a raging inferno. But he had no right…no right at all. “Her name is Elena Baca,” he continued, feeling her hurt and disappointment. “It is something that was arranged by our families many years ago. I am expected to marry her when I go back home. She is eighteen now.”
Irene struggled against tears, feeling like a fool. All the joy had left her heart. “I see,” she answered, forcing herself to sound bright. “Is she pretty?” She turned to meet his eyes, somewhat relieved to notice there the same passion she had seen and felt earlier.
“Si,” he answered. “But not as pretty as you.”
She blushed and turned away again. “Do you love her?”
He sighed deeply. “It does not matter. I will learn to love her, and she will learn to love me. That is the way it is with such marriages. She is sweet and good. She will be a good wife.”
Jealousy instantly raged in Irene’s soul, with such force that she almost felt sick. An awkward silence hung in the air, and they were so lost in the moment that they did not see the three men coming closer.
“What about you, señorita?” he asked. “Is there someone special for you?”
She looked down at Sierra’s mane and patted the horse’s neck again. “Not really. There is one man—Chad Jacobs is his name. My mother recently hired him as one of our lawyers. He’s quite handsome,” she said, hoping to hurt him as much as his remark had hurt her. “I know my mother has hopes for the two of us, but I hardly know him yet.” She swallowed back a lump in her throat and turned her horse. “We had better go back.”
“Irene—” Ramon suddenly could not bear the hurt in her eyes, could not fight his feelings or be as wise about all of this as he should. To think of another man touching her was torture, but before he could tell her so, the three strangers coming up behind them now were much closer. Ramon sensed danger. “Get back to the house, quickly,” he told her quietly.
“I’m sure they don’t mean any harm,” she told him, keeping her horse beside him. “They’re probably just some miners. Maybe they even know Father.”
“I have seen them in town. They are no good. They used to run with that troublemaker Harrison before he was run out of town.”
Irene’s heart quickened, but she refused to look afraid. “Let’s just head back. What can they do about it?” She kicked her horse into motion, and Ramon followed, knowing before it happened that the three men would cut them off. They sped up their horses to catch Irene, circling her, one of them grabbing her horse’s bridle. Ramon was instantly angry with himself for being so lost in her that he had allowed her to stray too far from home.
“Well, you pretty thing, what you doin’ out here with a Mexican boy, huh?” one of them asked.
Irene considered announcing who she was, but she wisely decided against it, sensing that would only make mat
ters worse. “Let go of my horse,” she warned.
“Let go of my horse,” one of them mocked in a girlish tone. They all laughed, and the one holding her horse looked her over hungrily. “I’d say any pretty white girl who’s caught alone with a Mexican boy is fair game, wouldn’t you, boys?”
Ramon rode closer, unexpectedly and quickly drawing his rifle from its boot. “All of you, get away from her,” he warned. “Her father is a powerful man. If you bring her harm, he will see that all of you die!”
One of them straightened, riding closer to Ramon, and Irene was afraid for him. “If she’s so important, what’s she doin’ cavortin’ out here with the likes of you?”
“I am a builder. She was showing me where her father is thinking of putting up a barn.”
“She was, was she?” The man snickered. “I think you’re lyin’, boy. And I think you had better remember what happens to Mexicans around here who get into trouble with white men. You shoot that rifle, you’ll be hangin’ from the rafters.”
Ramon held the man’s eyes steadily. “Perhaps I will. But you will not be around to watch, will you?” The man stiffened, trying to look brave, but visibly paling. “Get moving,” Ramon warned again. “I do not like the idea of hanging, but if that is what it takes to protect this woman, then I will hang. At least I will have the satisfaction of the memory of seeing you fly off that horse with a hole in your face.”
The man watched Ramon’s eyes, deciding this Mexican man meant every word he said. He scowled at Ramon while he spoke. “Let’s go, boys.”
“You gonna let that greaser back you down, Hank?” one of the others asked. “We could have us some fun with this pretty young thing. She looks pretty damn good after bein’ with those ugly whores in town.”
The one called Hank kept his eyes on Ramon. “I said let’s go,” he repeated. “If I see you in town,” he told Ramon, “you’ll pay for this.”
“You would be wise to stay out of Denver now,” Ramon answered. “The Volunteers are coming back. The Confederates have been defeated, and people know who you are. You will not be welcome in Denver, and I think you know it. I think you were already running.”
The man jerked his head up, as though to show pride and bravery. “Well, you thought wrong,” he lied, irritated at this Mexican man’s arrogance. “Keep your eyes open, brown boy.” He turned his horse and rode off, and the other two men waited hesitantly, one of them still holding Irene’s bridle. The other rode closer to Ramon, looking down his nose at the barrel of his rifle as though unafraid.
“No greaser orders me around,” he sneered.
In an instant, Ramon whipped the rifle barrel across the side of the man’s head, knocking him from his horse. He swung around as the man fell, aiming the rifle at the remaining offender. “Pick up your friend and get out of here!”
The second man let go of Irene’s horse and rode to where his friend lay groaning on the ground. He glowered at Ramon but said nothing as he dismounted. Ramon whirled his horse and kicked Sierra in the rump. “Ride, Irene,” he shouted.
Irene did not wait to ask questions. Her heart was pounding so hard with fear for Ramon and fear of what the men intended to do to her that she needed no added encouragement to flee. She and Ramon took off at a hard gallop, charging across the open land and toward the hill where the new house sat, quickly leaving their antagonizers far behind them.
They reached the house, Irene gasping with a combination of fear and excitement as they thundered up to the front lawn. Ramon had put his rifle back in its boot and he quickly dismounted, tying his horse and going around Sierra to help Irene down.
“Oh, Ramon, I was so afraid for you,” she said, feeling breathless. Her hair had come partially undone, and part of it fell in a beautiful, golden cascade over her shoulder. Ramon was enraptured. “What a brave thing you did,” she added. “They might have killed you. They were right, you know. If you had shot one of them, you would have been hanged.”
He tied her horse for her. “It would have been worth it.”
He looked up at her, and she was overwhelmed with what she was sure was love. He had risked his life for her! She slowly climbed down, her legs shaking so that she nearly fell. Ramon grabbed her, and she grasped his strong arms for support. She raised her face to meet his dark eyes, her chest still heaving in quick breaths from the excitement of the moment.
She was suddenly vulnerable. Ramon imagined her looking at him this way, breathing hard from ecstasy rather than fear. With no thought to the consequences, he leaned down and met her mouth, unable to resist the full, sensual lips, slightly parted for him.
Irene had no time to resist, but she knew she would not have anyway. Ramon’s mouth covered her own, and his strong arms embraced her, crushing her virgin breasts against his broad chest. What a bold and daring thing she was allowing him to do, and yet she didn’t mind at all! Her arms reached up around his neck as naturally as breathing, and she whimpered when his tongue flicked suggestively at the edges of her lips.
It was her first kiss, one she was sure she would remember the rest of her life. This was much more wonderful than she had ever imagined, and she discovered it was easy to return the kiss with equal passion. She had always wondered what she would do when a man kissed her, wondered if she would find it at first offensive. But there was nothing offensive about Ramon’s gentleness, or how sweet his mouth tasted, or in the love she knew he felt for her.
He finally tore his mouth from hers, grasping her hair so that her plumed hat fell off. She rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in his masculine scent. “I could not let them touch you,” he said, his voice low with desire. “I want to be the one to touch you, Irene.”
The words brought a fire to her blood she had never experienced before. She rubbed her face against his chest lovingly. “What are we going to do, Ramon?” she whispered. “What about Elena, and your family’s promise? What about my mother?”
He put a hand to the side of her face, making her look up at him. “We will find a way, mi querida. Perhaps it is wrong, Irene, but I love you.” He kept her close, their bodies meshed, and Irene knew in that moment that giving herself to a man would not be the humiliating, frightening thing she had thought, not if he was as loving and gentle as Ramon.
“I love you, too, Ramon,” she said softly. “It scares me, but it feels wonderful, too.”
He smiled softly. “We must be careful, go slowly. This will not be easy.”
“I know, Ramon, but I’m not afraid.”
He searched her blue eyes, wondering at his own daring, unable to think clearly when she was here in his arms this way. He worried about how this would hurt his grandfather, perhaps bring shame to the family. Already he felt his loyalties being ripped apart, but here she was, soft and warm in his arms, such an angel, so trusting. He shivered with the thought of lying naked beside her. He leaned down to kiss her once more, a deep, hungry kiss that told him that once she was introduced to womanhood, she would be sweet and responsive to him. Sudden, painful desire made him leave her lips and gently push her away.
“We cannot let anyone see us this way, not for a while yet,” he told her then, letting go of her reluctantly. “There are many things to think about, and we must see more of each other first. Somehow we will find a way to be together. My work here at the house will be finished soon. It will be harder then to see you.”
“Oh, Ramon, I can hardly stand to go one day without seeing you.”
He took her hands. “Do not worry, mi querida. I will find a way.” He looked past her then, noticing a buggy approach the Kirkland residence farther down the hill. “You must go,” he said quickly. He ducked around his horse and to the other side of the iron railing of the brick steps that led to the front doors. “Go home, Irene,” he repeated.
She stood there wanting to cry. How painful having to part so quickly after finally being able to admit to their feelings. She looked down the hill to see the buggy, recognizing it as her mother’s. With g
reat reluctance she turned and mounted Sierra. She guided the horse around the side of the steps where Ramon stood. “I love you, Ramon.”
His eyes seemed to tear. “Yo te quiero,” he replied. She knew without asking that it meant “I love you.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t have more time.”
“Just go,” he urged. “Everyone must be told at the right time and in the right way. They cannot just catch us together. It will make them more angry. We will see each other again, Irene.”
She sniffed, wiping at a tear. “Thank you, Ramon, for what you did out there. I’ll never forget it. My Ramon is not just handsome and skilled. He is brave—a conquistador.” She reached down and grasped his hand once more. He squeezed it lightly and smiled for her, trying to boost her own hope and courage. She turned Sierra and rode off, and Ramon watched after her, his heart heavy with the impossibility of his love for the gringa. Her wealth meant nothing to him, but he knew no one in her family would believe it. They would only see this poor Mexican man, caring not that his family had once been wealthy, that they were descendants of a king.
“What have I done?” he muttered, every bone, nerve and muscle of his body crying out for her. He waited until she was nearly down the hill before walking around his horse and up the steps to the front doors, which stood open to air out the smells of paint. He stepped inside, then stopped short, feeling a strange dread when he saw a dark-haired girl standing just inside the doorway. His mind raced with surprise and worry. Had she seen? “Who are you?” he asked aloud.
She was rather plain, but her hairdo and her clothes spoke of wealth. She eyed him with a dark, narrow look, the hint of a victorious grin about her mouth. “I’m Elly,” she answered, “Irene’s sister. I came up here to find Irene and tell her it was time to get ready to go into town. She went riding, against Mother’s wishes, and I thought maybe she came here.” Her eyes moved over him scathingly. “Did she?”
In the Shadow of the Mountains Page 14
