Silver Surrender--Jarrett Family Sagas--Book Two

by Vivian Vaughan

  Besides the fact that the one problem foremost in his mind remained unresolved. He hadn’t found a moment to talk privately with Aurelia, and he knew that until he did, he would not relax anywhere.

  She was the loveliest woman at the ball, but that didn’t surprise him. Nor did it surprise him to have every single man in the room vie for her favor.

  It did surprise him a little, though, that he wasn’t jealous. Not even when he lounged against one of the three dozen ornate pillars that held up the ceiling of the giant ballroom and watched her flirt and dance.

  “She’s the best dancer of the lot,” Santos mused from his side.

  “Hmm,” Carson agreed. “Seems we find ourselves in the same boat tonight, partner.”

  “Sí,” Santos answered. “Fish out of water, both of us.”

  “Unlike that feller she’s dancing with at the moment. Don…who did she say?”

  “Don Rodrigo Fraga,” Santos supplied. “He will be your major competition tomorrow.”

  “The feller with the Arabians?”

  “How did you know that?”

  Carson sipped the champagne punch, wishing it was redeye and that he was in a bar back in Texas…

  No, he wished it was Aurelia’s lips and he was somewhere wrapped in her arms and nothing else.

  “She told me about him before we left Catorce.”

  “Didn’t know she was interested in Rodrigo. True, he has been after her the last couple of years. But she’s never shown much interest.”

  “It’s his horses she’s interested in, Santos. She said when I beat him tomorrow, I am to choose some stallion named al-Tareg and a couple or three mares as my prize. She figures I can start a herd that way.”

  Santos watched his sister a moment longer. She let Rodrigo twirl her about the floor, her blood-red skirt swaying gracefully with each step, revealing a glimpse of red slipper, a glimpse of trim ankle.

  “You were right about her,” he told Carson. “She’s all woman, sensual and passionate. The only thing hidden from view tonight is that brain inside her pretty head. But from what you just said, I can tell it has been working overtime.”

  Carson laughed. “Is that unusual?”

  “Afraid not, compadre. You had best get on out there and grab hold of her. She’s about to take you for the ride of your life.”

  Carson was still grinning when he cut in on Don Rodrigo, a gallant, much-too-handsome fellow, who relinquished his partner with a bow. “Until we meet in the arena tomorrow, Señor Jarrett.”

  They finished the dance without either of them uttering a single word. She savored his hand on her back, his grip on her hand. His strange questioning gaze pierced directly through her eyes to her erratically beating heart.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked when they began the next dance, a waltz.

  He twirled her expertly about the floor. Expertly, but silently.

  “You dance with much elegance, señor,” she affected.

  “Thank you, ma’am. The credit’s due my partner.”

  She laughed, then caught her breath suddenly, following his gaze downward. Between them. “Tell me what you are thinking.”

  He glanced up, self-conscious that his mind had wandered to that same old thing. This was a ball. A party. And he held the prettiest girl in the room in his arms. Perk up, Jarrett, he chided.

  “Tell me what’s worrying you,” she insisted.

  He shrugged, twirling her again. “Later. In private.”

  “No,” she answered. “When we get time to ourselves, I don’t want it spoiled by serious things. Whatever is on your mind is serious, isn’t it?”

  He nodded.

  “Then get it over with.”

  He grinned, but the mirth did not reach his eyes. Worry knit itself into a tight ball in the pit of her stomach.

  He danced her away from the crowd, toward a corner of the floor that, although not deserted, lent a measure of privacy. He didn’t want the crowd to see her expression when he asked her the question that had troubled him since he first thought of it back in Catorce.

  “What?” she prompted.

  Carson cleared his throat. His mouth felt as if it were full of tumbleweeds, but he managed to talk around them, blurting out his question in one gasp. “Are you carrying my child?”

  “What?”

  “Are you with child?” He whispered it this time, bringing his lips as close to her ear as he dared here in the brightly lit ballroom.

  Her feet stumbled; she stepped on his boot.

  “No,” she managed.

  His fingers gripped her hand. “I don’t believe you.”

  She stared at him, dumbfounded. “I never even considered such a thing.”

  “Neither did I until after you left Catorce. I’ve worried about it ever since.”

  Tears rushed to her eyes. She wanted to hug him, to hold him near. “Well, you can stop worrying.”

  “You aren’t?”

  She shook her head.

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded.

  “Absolutely sure?”

  The way he emphasized the words, Aurelia knew exactly what he meant. She pursed her lips, felt her face flush. “Is there nothing about us women you men don’t know?”

  He laughed, albeit halfheartedly. “A lot, angel. Tell me the truth.”

  “I am not carrying your child, Carson Jarrett.”

  Deep inside he began to relax. The pace of the waltz had picked up and he twirled her about the room, reentering the mainstream, sidestepping a couple here, another there.

  With the worry gone, a strange sort of letdown seeped into the vacuum. “Good,” he whispered at length.

  “You’re glad?”

  “Hmm.” He shrugged. “Aren’t you?”

  The next dance was slower and they moved about the floor as though they floated on a pillow of silence, each sifting through the previous conversation, letting new emotions, new ideas, settle into place.

  At length he laughed. “So this is it?”

  Startled from her reverie, Aurelia’s eyes flew to his. “This is what?”

  “Guanajuato. Where you have always wanted to live.”

  They made their way smoothly around the floor. The music supplied a gentle backdrop to their raging emotions.

  “I don’t want it anymore.”

  “Oh?” He maneuvered them away from a helplessly awkward couple.

  “Right how all I want is to kiss you.”

  His eyes answered for him, because for a moment he was afraid that if he moved his lips to speak, he would find them on hers.

  “To kiss me?” he questioned after a while. “Only to kiss me?”

  She shook her head, grinning. “More than that. Much more than that.”

  “I thought so.” His gaze left hers to sweep the room. “You want it all.”

  “Not all of this. Just all of you.”

  They danced without speaking again. Holding her became a chore. Holding her, but being allowed to do nothing else. Unable even to hold her close. He longed to feel her against him. His body began to ache.

  “That probably isn’t entirely true,” he challenged. “If you had all of me but nothing else, you would want all of this. You only think you could give it up because you have it.”

  She laughed. “You talk in riddles, and nothing you say is true.”

  “You think you know what you want, don’t you?”

  “I know I do.”

  “It would mean taking an awful chance to find out. The odds aren’t good.”

  “I can see you haven’t changed your way of thinking.” She lifted her chin, grinning in her familiar conspiratorial fashion. “But I am prepared to prove my point. When you return to your room tonight, you will find a package on your bed.”

  He squeezed her waist. “A package filled with what, angel? You?”

  Her eyes held his, teasing yet serious. “Before dawn tomorrow,” she instructed, “dress in the clothes you will find in that pack
age and meet me outside the servants’ entrance to the mansion. I intend to show you the real me.”

  His amusement turned to wonder. “Why do I always underestimate you?” Then he thought of the consequences. “Your relatives will have our hides, mine most of all.”

  “Don’t you trust me? I’m the one who rescued you from death by hanging. Remember?”

  His eyes danced upon her glorious face. “Only to snare me in a trap of angel wings.”

  She laughed, absorbing the warmth in his eyes, the love in his voice.

  “How will you be dressed?” he teased. “Will I recognize the real you?”

  Aurelia laughed again. “I guarantee it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Back at the Reinaldo mansion, Aurelia let María help her remove her blood-red gown.

  “Did you get the items I sent you for?” she asked, tossing her corset and petticoats over the carved screen.

  “Sí, señorita.”

  Pulling an embroidered cotton gown over her head, she slipped into its matching wrapper. How she wanted to go to Carson tonight. But it would never do for her aunt or uncle to discover her in his room. No telling what they would do to Carson. No telling what they would tell her parents.

  And her own parents were looking better by the hour.

  “You delivered the clothing to Señor Jarrett’s room?”

  “Sí, señorita.”

  Sitting at the dressing table, she unpinned her hair and let María brush it the obligatory one hundred strokes, although she was hardpressed to sit still that long tonight. “Did you get the directions I asked for?”

  “Sí.” Digging into her apron, the maid pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

  Aurelia’s mouth fell open. “This map has no words…no directions.”

  “The maid who drew it does not write, señorita.” María shrugged. “Neither do I.”

  “How can I use such a map?”

  “The cross is the Basilica.” María patiently pointed to other markings on the paper. “This skull is where the dead look alive, and these arches lead to the tunnel on the outskirts of town.”

  Aurelia followed María’s moving finger. “This is the road we take?”

  “Sí, señorita.” Aurelia studied the map, while María began to brush her hair once more. “I do not like it, this thing you are planning.”

  “A picnic? What is wrong with a picnic?”

  “We are not in Catorce. You should not take so many chances.”

  Aurelia laughed. “I have taken chances all my life, María.”

  A sudden rap at the door set her heart to racing. She glanced at her maid, wondering what the girl would think should she invite Carson in and send her out.

  The knock came again. Stuffing the crude map into the bodice of her nightgown, she pulled open the door, only to find Santos lounging against the opposite wall.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  “Expecting someone else?”

  “Certainly not. What do you want?”

  He grinned. “Sorry to have caused you unnecessary…ah…excitement.”

  “What do you want?” she repeated.

  “May I come in?”

  She stood aside.

  He spoke to María. “Run along now. Relie can tuck herself in.”

  “Come back in the morning, María,” Aurelia instructed. “Early, like I told you. And don’t be late.”

  Sitting down, she began to brush her own hair. In the looking glass, she watched Santos survey the room. Finally, she tossed her hairbrush at him. “Why don’t you check under the bed?”

  He grimaced.

  “Por Santa Cecilia! Give me strength to endure a meddlesome brother.”

  He chuckled, sinking to the settee. “I didn’t expect to find him here.”

  “I should hope not. He has enough sense not to come to my room in a place like this, even if I wanted him to.”

  “That’s the problem, Relie.”

  “What?”

  “He would come if you wanted him to. He will do anything you ask.”

  Aurelia turned back to the dressing table to hide her distress.

  “Couldn’t you tell how uncomfortable he was tonight?”

  A flush crept up her neck. “That was a matter between the two of us, Santos. We worked it out.”

  “What about the horses?”

  “What horses?”

  “Don’t close me out on this, Relie. I feel responsible enough as it is. What are you up to with Rodrigo’s Arabians?”

  “I’m not up to anything with Rodrigo’s Arabians. It was a whim, a game.”

  “A game? What if Jarrett should win? What do you expect him to do then? Where is he supposed to run this herd of Arabians if he wins them?”

  She took her brush from his extended hand and began to apply long, slow strokes to her hair. “At Rancho Mazón?”

  “Rancho Mazón? You hate the ranch.”

  “I do not.” Her hand stilled. “How can you say what I like and what I hate?” She stroked her hair idly, wondering whether she herself knew what she wanted. The only thing she knew for certain was that she hated being separated from Carson—for ten days, for one day, for a moment.

  “I told you, the charriada is a game,” she continued. “Carson knows that. He also knows his chances of winning are practically nonexistent. The charriada is for fun. Are we not allowed to have fun?”

  “You’re playing with a man’s life.”

  She glared at his reflection in the looking glass. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I don’t know, but I have to think of something before this thing goes any further.”

  “You can start by calling this thing what it is—love. Admit it. I am in love with Carson Jarrett, your best friend. And he is in love with me.”

  “I know that. Everyone can see it. You mope around for ten days, then he comes to town and you light up like candles on a Christmas altar. So does he. I felt the heat tonight just standing beside him, watching him watch you from across the room. I see no way out now, short of one of you getting hurt.”

  With a heavy sigh, she crossed the room and sat beside him on the settee. “We are in love, Santos. That means we’re going to be happy, not hurt.”

  “You can’t ask him to live in Guanajuato,” Santos insisted. He ruffled her carefully brushed hair, reminding her of when they were kids. She brushed his hand away, but playfully. “And living in Guanajuato has been your dream, Relie. It’s all you have ever wanted.”

  “I don’t want it anymore.”

  He stared at her, his uncertainty clear.

  “I don’t,” she insisted. “All I want is to live with Carson. Even if that means moving to Texas, living out under the stars.” She shrugged. “Or wherever he takes me.”

  He chuckled at that thought, then turned serious again. “Your life is at stake, too. Before you marry someone, you need to consider whether you would be happy with that kind of person, whether you could make him happy.”

  “I—”

  He held up his hand. “Don’t tell me you would be happy living in the wilderness. I know better. Somehow I will have to work this out.”

  “No, Santos. You stay out of it. I know you mean well, but Carson and I can solve our own problems.”

  “That’s what Pia told me. She said all you wanted was the freedom to choose for yourself, to make your own decisions; that Guanajuato wasn’t all that important to you.”

  “She’s right,” Aurelia admitted. “I didn’t realize it until I came here, but she is right. We could even live in Catorce.”

  “Catorce?”

  “Papá expects my husband to run the mint and eventually the mine.”

  He shrugged, noncommittal.

  “Carson Jarrett could run either one of them better than Enrique.”

  “You hate Catorce.”

  “No, I hate being forced to live there. And being forced to marry Enrique.” She laughed, hugging her arms about her. “Eve
n Mamá’s suggestion that Papá would build me a villa next to theirs doesn’t sound so bad anymore.”

  Santos’s eyebrows lifted a notch higher. “Jarrett wouldn’t cotton to having your papá build him a house.”

  “A minor detail, Santos.” She hugged him. “We can build our own house in Catorce. Don’t you understand? I love him. He loves me. We will find a solution to everything.”

  “If you say so, Relie.” At the door, he kissed her forehead. “You’ve convinced me that you love him, not that things will work out worth a damn.”

  “Please don’t spoil our happiness. We’re going to have a wonderful life, all of us—you and Pia and Carson and me.”

  “Even if he takes you to Texas?”

  She nodded. “His family sounds fascinating.”

  Her last statement stopped him short. “Fascinating isn’t exactly the word, Relie. They are good, solid people, but tough as nails. I’ve met most of them, and they are folks to ride the river with. You have never known people like that.”

  “I know one of them, and I’ve fallen in love with him. I will love his family, too.”

  The only hitch in her plan the following morning was that Santos had sent María off to bed before Aurelia could ask her to pack a lunch for them.

  It was still dark when she tiptoed down the stairs and into the kitchen, garbed in her disguise. The cook had already lighted the fires and was busy with the day’s baking.

  As luck would have it, when Aurelia began rummaging through the larder for food, the cook assumed she was one of the maids sent to fetch for the masters.

  So Aurelia rose to the occasion, saying how a guest asked her to prepare a basket of food to carry to the corral this morning. The cook supplied a clean cotton sack and freshly cooked tortillas, and she showed Aurelia where to find some cheeses and peppered beef.

  A while later, when Carson tripped through the kitchen, the cook had become a bit wiser.

  “Shoo! Be off with you. We are civilized folk. We don’t feed beggars.”

  After she slammed the door behind him, he glanced up and down the narrow alley, finally spying a serving girl giggling at the end of the house.