Tides of Passion

by Sara Orwig

  “You’d risk your life over an old hatred and for revenge!” For a moment her fear was diminished by regret. A knock sounded and they both turned to look at the door.

  “Come in,” Josh said in a casual tone. When the door opened to admit a maid, he commanded, “Would you send the butler in?”

  “Sí.” Maria nodded and left.

  “Get your cloak, Lianna. Change as quickly as possible.” Josh removed his shirt, baring his chest in the warm glow of candlelight, and despite the urgency of danger, Lianna couldn’t move. She ached to touch him, drinking in the sight to keep forever in her memory.

  “Hurry,” he said, his eyes narrowed as he watched her.

  “Of course.” She paused. “I did something terrible to you. I betrayed you after all.”

  His voice was low as he said, “Not knowingly.”

  “I’m sorry, Josh.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Forget it, Lianna. I’ve done things to you I shouldn’t have. Get ready,” he said, turning as Fletcher appeared.

  Thinking about Josh’s words, Lianna left the two men. She dressed in the boy’s clothing she had worn before. Her gaze swept the room and she selected two things to drop into her pocket: the diamond necklace from Josh and the wilted gardenia from the ball.

  When she rejoined Josh, a cloak covered his dark clothing. He wore gloves, a sword belt, and pistols tucked into his waistband. His gaze swept over her. “Let’s go quickly.”

  He took her arm, started toward the door, but suddenly stopped. With his finger on his lips he motioned her to silence.

  Lianna held her breath, watching him move stealthily to the door. He yanked it open.

  27

  Juanita straightened, her eyes opening wide. “Dios!” she gasped, and turned to run.

  Josh stepped forward, caught her around the waist, his hand clamping over her mouth. Swiftly he carried her back into the room. “Close the door,” he commanded.

  Before Lianna could close it, Fletcher appeared. “Spanish soldiers are coming down the street. Simms has gone to warn the others. I have horses ready in back.”

  “Can you and the men escape?” Josh asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Go, and take Lianna! Ride for the mountains, for Pablo’s. Leave me a horse, and I’ll follow.”

  “You won’t get away!” Juanita snapped. “General Farjado knows your traitorous intentions! I’ve reported everything I’ve seen and heard to him.”

  Josh swore softly, glancing at Fletcher. “Go!” While he tied and gagged Juanita, Lianna left with Fletcher.

  They ran along the corridor, but on the stairs she stopped. “Go ahead, Fletcher. I’ll come with Josh.”

  “Dammit, that isn’t—”

  “Go ahead. He may need help.”

  As he turned and ran across the courtyard, she raced back toward the house.

  Josh plunged down the stairs to meet her. “Lianna! You should have gone with Fletcher.” Holding Lianna’s arm, he was crossing the courtyard when they heard pounding at the front door.

  “Run,” Josh commanded. When they stepped outside, Lianna turned for the stables, but suddenly a Spanish soldier stepped in front of them.

  Silver glinted in Josh’s hand as he whipped out a dagger. The soldier’s cry was cut short in a gasp. Josh plunged the knife down, and the soldier dropped to the ground.

  “This way.” Josh lifted her to the top of the high wall that surrounded the house. He climbed up swiftly, then dropped into the saddle of a waiting horse. He swung Lianna down into the saddle of the second horse.

  “Now, Lianna, stay close. Ride!”

  She urged the horse forward. The bay’s legs stretched out as they raced down the street. While Josh led the way, his horse pounding across a yard, then leaping a fence, Lianna followed. Her mount gathered himself, soaring over the fence, landing and galloping after Josh until they rode from town into an open field.

  The wind rushed against Lianna, whipping her hair from her face while they raced across the flat land under a bright, full moon.

  Josh rode on ahead, horse and man as one, his hat pulled low over his eyes, his broad shoulders outlined against the gray night sky. Above the sound of the horses’ hooves a shot rang out and fright gripped Lianna. When she glanced over her shoulder, her panic increased.

  The moon shone clearly on horses and soldiers coming after them. Ahead stretched a vastness of plain before they would reach the mountains. It was flat, open land which offered no protection, no cover until they reached the mountains. The race would be to the swiftest.

  In the empty night, the sound of the horses carried; their pursuers rode relentlessly after them. As they raced, Lianna could feel her bay strain with effort. Lather formed and blew back against her, flecks of white on her dark breeches. She regretted pushing the horse, yet she had to or they would be prisoners of the Spanish.

  Josh’s horse was holding up with greater ease; the distance between the two of them was slowly widening. She cast another glance over her shoulder. The soldiers had fanned out, six of them spread in a line as they galloped in pursuit. It would be only a matter of time until her horse could no longer keep up the deadly pace.

  The pace slowed and the soldiers gained. And finally the terrain changed. The ground began to swell and fall; mesquite and acacia trees had to be skirted. Lianna looked back. The distance between her horse and the Spaniards had narrowed, while the length between her horse and Josh’s had widened.

  What would happen to them if they were caught? Josh’s remarks about the torture of prisoners couldn’t be forgotten. She looked at his broad back and her heart constricted painfully. She had betrayed him as surely as if she had told General Farjado every detail of their lives.

  A sob was snatched by the wind, Lianna unaware that she had made a sound, oblivious of hot tears that streaked her face.

  The soldiers gained. A cloud of dust rose behind them and hovered in the air. Suddenly Josh reined his horse, slowing to fall back beside her. He leaned close, yelling to her. “We can’t outride them. Our horses will soon drop. We’ll divide. You take the mountains.”

  “No,” Lianna cried, realizing that he would sacrifice himself to save her.

  As they galloped side by side, Josh continued calling instructions above the thunder of the horses. “Ride to the left. In that direction, up the mountain, you’ll find an adobe hut. A boy, Pablo, is there. You must reach him and tell him I’ve been taken prisoner.”

  Lianna clutched the reins tightly, a wave of dizziness striking her. Josh—a prisoner of the Spaniards! She cried out, “No! You can’t! You know how they hate you!”

  “Lianna,” he shouted, “listen to me! You must get to Pablo! Fletcher may be with him.”

  With a burst of energy, Josh’s horse lengthened its stride and raced ahead, the brown mane flowing, Josh’s cloak fluttering. He wheeled the horse to the right, then turned in the saddle and waved. His cry was muffled by the noise of hooves and wind, but she knew what he wanted.

  She tugged the reins and her mount veered to the northeast. The landscape was rougher; occasional huge boulders lay on the ground.

  Racing southward along the base of the foothills, Josh led the soldiers away.

  As Lianna gazed down at the lone figure riding ahead of the soldiers, the tightness in her throat made breathing difficult. She sobbed with agony for Josh until another concern loomed. Two, then three horsemen separated from the soldiers and reversed direction, coming after her while the others pursued Josh.

  She had to reach Pablo. The possibility of Josh at the mercy of General Farjado and Governor Marcheno made her ill. Lianna urged her horse forward.

  The land sloped upward in a steep incline which forced her to slow, but also caused her pursuers more difficulty. Below them, on the plain, Josh was no longer in sight. Only a cloud of dust indicated where the riders were.

  Behind her she could see three silhouettes of Spanish soldiers moving steadily after her. Ahead, she scanned the wooded
mountain slope for an adobe hut.

  There appeared to be nothing higher on the slope except mesquite, acacia, rocks, and boulders. She debated changing course—but which direction? To the left or to the right? Either way she might ride farther from the hut and miss it.

  Every passing moment could mean the difference between survival and death for Josh. A large angular shape, white in the moon’s brightness, caught her attention. She guided the horse through a rushing mountain stream glistening with water from melted snow. An adobe hut loomed before her, and desperately she called, “Pablo! Pablo!”

  A small figure clad in dark cotton pants and shirt emerged from around a corner. The boy led a saddled horse. The moon shone fully on him as Lianna approached, and she reined her horse. “Please, Pablo, ride for help! The Marqués de Aveiro, Captain Raven, has been taken prisoner. Please go!”

  “Por Dios!” the boy exclaimed. “Sí. I will ride like the wind. His men are ahead. Come, señora,” he said as he vaulted into the hand-tooled saddle.

  “No. Three soldiers are coming. My horse is ready to drop. You’ll stand a better chance of getting help if you go alone. Find an Englishman named Fletcher. Tell him Josh is a prisoner. Go now. I’ll lead the soldiers away.”

  She could hear horses approaching while they talked.

  For an instant the boy looked at her; then he turned his horse. The silvery moonlight shone brightly on the slight figure astride a black horse.

  He disappeared around a corner of the hut. Lianna turned her horse in the opposite direction and flicked the reins.

  The pause to talk with Pablo had given the soldiers an advantage. They had narrowed the distance. Glancing down the slope, she saw the riders divide, two after her, one riding toward the hut.

  Upward she climbed, with the grim knowledge that it was only a matter of minutes until she would be a prisoner, but every second she could give Pablo would mean a chance for the word to be passed along about Josh’s capture. With the boy rode their only hope for survival. Her horse slowed; its sides heaved from the strain.

  “Doña Lita!”

  She stiffened when she heard the call, recognizing General Farjado’s voice. The memory of his savage kiss was a nightmare coming true. She had no illusions what lay ahead with her capture. Grimly she climbed, urging the horse to one last burst of strength.

  They headed for a cluster of boulders. Lianna dismounted and scrambled up the rocks, tearing the skin off her fingers in her rush to escape.

  She heard horses, then a man’s heavy breathing behind her. Spurs jingled and boots scraped on the boulders.

  “Doña Lita, your flight is useless. Save us time. We have your husband.”

  Josh captured! Lianna closed her eyes and swayed.

  Behind her she heard the general. “Come here!”

  Desperately she reached up to try to climb higher over the rough boulders. Hard arms closed around her waist like chains and yanked her off her feet. General Farjado spun her around to face him.

  Lianna struggled momentarily. He raised his hand and slapped her. The stinging blow snapped her head back, her hat tumbled off, and dark curls fell free as she cried out.

  “Now we’re even,” he said. His fingers bit into her shoulders as he called to his men, “I have the woman!”

  She looked up into a face bathed in moonlight. He ran his finger down her cheek, along her throat, then placed his hand over her breast. “Now you are mine.”

  “No!”

  He squeezed his fingers into her flesh and she gasped with pain. “Yes. Come, mount up and we’ll return to Santiago. You may watch what we do with your husband.”

  “Please”—Lianna felt as if she would faint—“let him live and I’ll do whatever you want.”

  Farjado’s fingers wound in her hair and yanked her face up. “Perhaps we can bargain after all.”

  He pulled her along until they reached a soldier who waited with her horse. She climbed into the saddle, stonily watching General Farjado mount and take the reins to her horse.

  “If you oppose me or try to escape, the torture will go harder on your husband.” He turned and led the way, the soldiers moving into line behind Lianna’s horse.

  They descended slowly, all need for hurry gone. When they passed the adobe hut, Lianna cast one brief glance in its direction.

  The moon shone on the simple structure, giving it beauty in the night that it wouldn’t hold under the harsh, revealing sun.

  No one stirred near it, and Lianna prayed that Pablo would get help. She felt numb and cold, racked with fear for Josh. And she began to understand his terrible hatred of the Count of Marcheno. If they tortured Josh, she would live with hate the rest of her life, just as Josh had!

  They rode lower, through the acacia and mesquite, the horses picking their way carefully down the mountain. The discovery that Josh was a prisoner was agonizing torment. Was he already at the prison? Would her body be tempting enough to bargain with Farjado for Josh?

  Suddenly a man emerged from thick brush. In one swift, fluid motion he came up to snatch General Farjado off his horse, and both men rolled to the ground.

  28

  A horse reared, pawing the air. Two more men rushed out from behind the mesquite. A Spanish soldier drew his pistol. A shot rang out.

  In an instant Lianna recognized broad shoulders and an angry profile. Josh was free! She grasped the reins, trying to wheel her horse out of the way. Fletcher’s golden hair was easily detectable in the darkness.

  “Cabrón!” General Farjado gasped, jumping to his feet to slam a fist against Josh’s jaw, sending him sprawling. With an ugly swish of metal, Farjado drew his sword.

  Lianna gazed on helplessly, unable to interfere. Farjado lunged, his blade slicing the air. Josh dodged, drew a pistol from his waistband, cocked it, and fired. The general slumped to the ground.

  Fletcher’s sword glinted, and another Spanish soldier crumpled and fell. The third leapt on a horse and urged it down the mountainside, lying on the animal’s neck.

  Josh raised his pistol and fired, but the Spaniard plunged down the slope unharmed. Josh turned and swung up into the saddle behind Lianna. The other two mounted the remaining horses.

  “Will Simms take her to El Feroz?” Fletcher asked.

  “We can’t risk it. Spanish soldiers will be after us.”

  “She can’t go with us,” Fletcher argued, as if Lianna weren’t present.

  “There’s no choice. I killed a Spanish general. Soldiers will be all over this mountain tonight. We need to ride as quickly as possible.”

  As Josh took the lead, he said, “We have a rendezvous in the mountains, where we’ll get supplies, fresh horses, and clothing. Pablo went ahead to tell them we’re coming.”

  “I thought you were taken prisoner,” she said.

  “I almost was. Fletcher and Drake joined me while I was fighting the soldiers. We overpowered them, then Pablo found us and I knew we had to save you.” He leaned down close to her ear. “Are you hurt?”

  “No.” She wanted to run her hands over him, to reassure herself he was with her, unhurt and free! She clung to him tightly.

  “We’re safe now, Lianna, but we have to ride. They’ll be after us soon.”

  During their steady climb, as they gained altitude, the wind increased. It whipped against Lianna, flinging long black tendrils of her hair across Josh’s shoulder. She turned to look ahead, and the sight weakened her limbs to jelly.

  The Andes cordillera lay around them, the lower slopes dark where they were covered with mesquite and chaparral, the high jagged peaks bathed in moonlight, snow sparkling with the glitter of millions of diamonds. Wind scooped up snow and flung it into the air in sprays of white off the nearest peaks. The suggestion that an army of men, animals, and weapons would cross such a barrier was absurd, a deadly venture.

  “No army can cross this!” she cried, the wind snatching away her words.

  “We have to try,” Josh yelled.

  The horses pi
cked their way over the mountain, then began the descent, winding down to a valley. They rode through a grove of pines, then lower, out of the wind to a mountain stream that rushed with silvery brilliance, splashing and gurgling across rocks as it tumbled down the slope.

  “We’ll follow the stream,” Josh said. “We’ll lose the soldiers here.”

  Within the hour, Lianna was hungry and tired, her hands numb with cold. Ahead, spirals of smoke rose from three adobe houses. Lianna was heartily glad to think about stopping, but she suspected that in a few hours, at dawn, she would be riding with Simms for the coast and El Feroz. And she wondered if Josh would survive the coming conflict, if she would ever see him again.

  They crossed another stream, then rode along the valley toward the adobe houses. Patches of yellow light spilled from the windows, while the stream caught silvery glints of moonlight. A gentle wind rustled the leaves of willows along the stream, creating an illusion of peace.

  “You think we’re safe from the soldiers here?”

  “I think we will be tonight. Tomorrow at dawn, we’ll leave.”

  And she knew the unspoken words. He would join San Martín, and he would leave her behind. Lianna ran her fingers across Josh’s hand, feeling the ridges of veins and tendons. She wanted to beg him to ride with her to the ship. The patriots had failed each time they had tried to gain independence. The mountain trek seemed a deadly, foolhardy venture destined to fail before the fighting ever began.

  The door to the largest adobe house opened and a man holding a musket stepped outside.

  “Hold your fire! Josh Raven here!”

  The man called to someone inside the house, then more men came through the door. Within minutes Josh lifted Lianna down and they entered a brightly lit house with a fire roaring in the fireplace. After the ride in the night air, the smell of meat and beans simmering made her mouth water. Josh took her arm to lead her to a house next door.