Tyree lit his cigar and chuckled. "You can trust me to do the right thing. Regardless of what you believe to the contrary, I can be a perfect gentleman when the occasion calls for it."
"I'm counting on that. I told her your name and said you would be getting in touch with her."
"Tell me about this woman," Tyree pressed. He had honored Jordanna's wishes and had not allowed anyone near her. Nor had he taken it upon himself to find out who she was. But he couldn't be blamed if her identity happened to fall into his lap, could he?
"She came from England to join her mother and father. When she arrived, she found her father was missing and her mother ill. I do not know if she needs money, but I would like you to find out. If you discover she is in need of anything, make sure that she gets it, and I will see that you are repaid. She is proud, so I do not think she will take charity. Take care not to offend her in any way."
Tyree swirled the amber liquid around in his glass. So, he thought, that was the reason Jordanna had been so desperate for a job dancing for him. He smiled to himself. She needn't have worried. Even though he now knew her identity, the secret would be safe with him.
"How did you meet such an outstanding woman?" Tyree asked guardedly.
"I met her when she had an accident while searching for her father."
"I see." Tyree took another sip of brandy. "Tell me, have you heard about my new dancer?" Tyree watched Marquis's face carefully. He wondered if Jordanna had told Marquis about her dancing. He was almost certain she had not.
"No," Marquis answered with little interest. "But then I don't get much news from San Francisco. I hope she is more exciting than the last one you hired. She had the face of a horse and the legs of a hairy goat."
Tyree chuckled and shoved the newspaper across his desk toward Marquis. "Here, read what this reporter thinks about my new dancer."
Marquis scanned the paper, noting that the reporter's praise was high indeed. He went on and on about the woman being poetry in motion . . . too lovely to be believed . . . the toast of California—a mystery lady that no one knew.
"It says that the dancer wears a veil, so therefore she could still be hiding a horse face," Marquis remarked lazily, tossing the newspaper back on the desk. "Have you seen her unveiled?"
"No."
"I fail to see the attraction of a woman who hides her face and dances across the stage. I have very little liking for dancers anyway."
"As I recall, your sister dances a beautiful Spanish dance," Tyree reminded him. "Are you only scornful where dancing professionally is concerned?"
"Perhaps," he admitted. "But the Spanish dance is a thing of beauty—it is an art. Can your dancer master the Spanish dance?"
"I don't know. I will tell you this, though. She has worked for me for over a week and not once has she danced the same dance."
"I think I would be bored with your masked dancer. I would much rather spend the evening with Bonita."
Tyree knew that Marquis kept his mistress, Bonita, at the Madison Hotel. There had been a time when he had come to town once a week to see her. Lately, he hardly came at all. "Why don't you come and see my dancer tonight? Come and judge for yourself if you find her boring."
"Perhaps I will. What have I got to lose but time, Tyree?"
* * *
The men in the smoke-filled room seemed tense with excitement and anticipation as they waited for Jordanna to make her appearance. Marquis sat at a front table with his arm draped about Bonita's shoulder, a wine glass balanced between his fingers. He gave his mistress a smile that melted her heart. Bonita snuggled close to him, feeling happy for the first time in weeks. Marquis had finally come to see her.
"Why do I hardly ever see you anymore, Marquis?" she asked, almost afraid to press him. Marquis was not the kind of man that a woman could easily hold.
Marquis hugged her to him and laughed heartily. "You see more of me than any other woman does."
"I always knew when your betrothed arrived from Spain that my days would be numbered . . . but I had hoped—"
His eyes narrowed, reminding her that she was not to speak of his betrothed. When he saw her distress, he lifted her chin and smiled down at her. "Tonight is not the time for long faces. We are together, are we not?"
Bonita nodded, knowing she had already lost Marquis. She doubted he would ever come to see her after tonight. Oh, he would be generous, and he would be kind, but she would miss him so much.
The music filled the room, and all eyes became glued to the stage. A lively Spanish song was building in tempo and suddenly the curtains rose, revealing a woman dressed in red shimmering material. Her floor-length gown was tapered to a long, ruffled train in back. Her dazzling costume picked up the lights from the lanterns and gave her the appearance of motion, even though she was standing still. Around her hair was a shimmering red net that dropped down over her face. As always, the only part of her face that showed were her eyes, and no one could tell their color from such a distance.
The men were going crazy, hollering and whistling. She stood poised with her arms in the air, waiting for the right moment to begin her dance. Several bags of gold dust were tossed upon the stage in tribute to the mysterious beauty.
Tyree seated himself at Marquis's table, watching his friend's face. "Good evening, Bonita. It is good to see you again," Tyree said, raising her hand to his lips.
"Are we about to be entertained by your famous mystery lady that I have been hearing about, Tyree?" Bonita asked.
"That's her," he answered, laughing in amusement, his eyes locking with Marquis's. "It seems she will do a Spanish dance tonight."
"No doubt you told her to," Marquis sneered. "There is more to dancing than just drawing a man's eye."
"Just wait," Tyree said. His eyes suddenly lit up. "I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I will wager a hundred dollars that you will say after Jordanna's dance that she is the most talented dancer you have ever seen. I will expect you to be honest about it."
Marquis reached into his pocket and counted out the money while Tyree did the same. "We will let Bonita hold the bills until after the dance," Tyree said, chuckling. He knew the bet was as good as won. When he handed the money to Bonita, she giggled, pushing it down the front of her gown.
Marquis's shoulders shook with laughter. "So far all your Jordanna has done is stand there and allow these poor fools to go wild. I do not call that dancing. I am afraid you will lose, my friend."
"Just watch," Tyree said, nodding at the stage. "You haven't won yet."
Valentina moved her foot just the merest fraction of an inch and her fingers clicked the castanets as though introducing herself to the audience. Slowly, enticingly, her hips began to move with the music, the movements smooth and sultry. All at once the music became faster and she began tapping her feet in rhythm. Faster and faster her feet tapped until the audience went wild. Marquis was not even aware that he was holding his breath.
The slim, shapely arm moved gracefully over the dancer's head while she spun around in a circle. Then there was a pause—as if her body was about to take flight—alerting the audience there would be a change in tempo. Gracefully she flowed across the stage, taking the heart of every man present with her. She danced, she whirled, she arched her back and moved her hips. She was pulling, stimulating, drawing the audience to her.
Marquis was stunned. He was sure he had never seen anything so beautiful. The fact that her face was hidden seemed to add to the beauty. Every man at the Crystal Palace could imagine her face as he wanted it to be.
Hearing a sulphur match grating against the bottom of Tyree's boot, Marquis watched Tyree light his cigar. His friend blew out a puff of smoke and smiled. They both knew that Tyree had won the bet.
The dancer's feet tapped out the tempo of the music like a drum roll, then she arched her back and crossed her lovely arms in front of her. Too soon, she raised a dainty hand into the air; she waved good-bye to the audience and hurried off the stage.
Ma
rquis found himself jumping to his feet yelling "Brava" at the top of his voice. The din was deafening because over a hundred men chanted Jordanna's name, calling to her, begging her to return.
"Will she come back?" Marquis asked when the noise had finally died down.
"No, she will not be back tonight," Tyree told him.
"Do I win my bet?"
Marquis sank down in his chair feeling as if the dancer had drained him of his strength. She had put so much into her dance and she had taken it out of her audience. "You win," Marquis admitted, wishing the mysterious woman would return. "She is the best I have ever seen."
When Bonita made a move to withdraw the money from the bodice of her gown, Tyree caught her hand. "You keep it," he said with a laugh. "I just wanted the satisfaction of winning against Marquis. It isn't often I can prove him wrong."
Bonita blinked her eyes. She knew Tyree had won, but she had lost. Without being told, she knew Marquis would pursue the dancer. She had observed him while he had watched Jordanna. He had worshiped the woman with his eyes. Bonita had been so deep in thought she had not heard the ensuing conversation between Marquis and Tyree. All she knew was that now Marquis was leading her across the room. He was taking her home. She sensed in her heart that after tonight he might never come lo her again.
Valentina leaned against the door of her dressing room. Her heart was pounding wildly and it had nothing to do with the fact that she had been dancing so fast. She had seen Marquis in the audience with his arm around a woman's shoulder. She had also seen the way he had watched her dance. Had he recognized her? "Please, no!" she cried, sinking down to her knees.
Salamar came to her and helped her to her feet. "What is wrong, little one?"
"Oh, Salamar, Marquis was in the audience tonight. If he ever finds out who I am, he will despise me. I couldn't stand that."
"It is better not to worry about something until it has happened. Turn around so I can help you undress."
Valentina did as she was told. All she could think about was Marquis watching her dance. Perhaps he hadn't guessed her true identity. But wouldn't Tyree Garth put two and two together and realize who she was? If he did, would he tell Marquis?
Sometime later, two lone figures slipped out the back door and down a side street. No one saw Valentina and Salamar go into the small cabin and close the door behind them.
Marquis stood at the window of Bonita's bedroom, looking down on San Francisco. He smiled when Bonita came up behind him and clasped her arms about his waist. "I'm glad you came to town today, Marquis. I have missed you so much."
He turned to her, a frown creasing his brow. "I do not want you sitting here alone waiting for me, Bonita. I do not demand that you be a hermit."
"You once told me you didn't want to share me with anyone, Marquis. I have not been with another man since I became your woman."
Marquis felt trapped. He always hated good-byes. Why did a woman always make parting so difficult? They always wanted to hold on to a man. He smiled at Bonita. She had given him many hours of pleasure; he would let her down gradually. Perhaps, he decided, it would be better to see her a few more times. "You must remember when we first met, Bonita, I told you there was no future for us. You agreed to my terms at that time."
Her arms went around his neck and she pressed her face to his. "I remember," she sobbed. "I will let you go when the time comes."
When Marquis lowered his head to kiss Bonita, he was unmoved by her sigh. He was picturing silver-blue eyes and lips as soft as a rose petal. Suddenly his mind was invaded by thoughts of an uncommonly beautiful body dressed in shimmering red. As Bonita's hands moved through his hair, he recalled the dancer's hips moving enticingly.
12
Percival Lawton was standing at his window watching Valentina. She had dropped down on her knees and was digging in the yard, obviously planting something. Picking up his hat, he clapped it on his head and hurried out the door and down the path to talk to her.
Valentina was deep in thought, planning the dance she would perform that night, and did not hear Reverend Lawton's approach. "Miss Barrett, I want to talk to you right now," he said in a booming voice that almost made her jump out of her skin.
Dropping the spade to the ground, Valentina stood up, trying to rub the dirt from her hands. "I didn't know you had returned, Mr. Lawton. Your sister said you were making the rounds of the gold fields."
A wisp of hair blew across Valentina's cheek and Percival had to resist the urge to reach out and touch it to see if it was as silky as it appeared. Troubled as he was by his confused thoughts about Valentina, he found that his voice had been louder than he had intended. "Just what in the world do you think you are doing, may I ask?"
"I am planting a garden. Your sister said it would be all right if I tended it and shared half of everything with you. There will be corn, peas—"
"I'm not talking about some fool arrangement you made with my sister," he interrupted, dabbing nervously at his face, then poking his handkerchief in his hip pocket. "I am talking about how you came to have money to pay the rent and can live such a frivolous lifestyle. My sister tells me that you have comforts in the cabin that are completely unnecessary."
Valentina was annoyed and Wondered why she always allowed this man to tax her patience. She felt that a man of God should have more understanding and charity in his heart for his fellowmen. Percival Lawton always seemed to be looking at the sordid side of life, never at the good in people. Since houses were hard to come by in San Francisco, Valentina knew she must make an effort to stay on good terms with the reverend and his pious sister. But that did not mean she would allow either one of them to push her around.
"I had not thought that renting a house from you gave you the right to pry into my personal finances. You should only be concerned that I pay my rent on time. As for making the cabin more livable, that was done for my mother's sake. She likes being surrounded by beautiful things. I like being able to make her life a little brighter."
Reverend Lawton cleared his throat and his watery gaze wavered against Valentina's intense stare. "My sister says you are working for Mrs. Windom. I know she doesn't pay you enough to buy frivolities. It's only natural that me and my sister would wonder why you seem to be throwing money around. You will remember that before I was called away, you gave me the impression you couldn't meet your rent."
His eyes shifted and he stared at a tree branch just behind her. "I'm sure you will also recall, out of the goodness of my heart, I offered to make you my wife."
Valentina suddenly felt pity for the man. He could not be happy unless he found the bad in people. He was somehow pathetic and that made her speak to him in a kinder tone of voice. "I was deeply honored by your offer of marriage, Mr. Lawton. It was kind of you to want to marry me when you don't love me, and I don't know you well enough to love you. I know you will understand when I tell you I could never marry a man I don't love."
Before Reverend Lawton could answer, both he and Valentina heard someone coming down the path toward them. Valentina recognized Tyree Garth. She wondered if she dared disappear into the house. Dear Lord, she cried inwardly. I had hoped he wouldn't come. What will I do if he recognizes me? It's too late to flee.
As Tyree neared Valentina, he saw the frightened, questioning look in her eyes. Doffing his hat, he bowed gallantly to her.
Before he could say anything to her, however, Reverend Lawton spoke up. "If you have come to see me to protest the citizen group I'm raising to boycott your wicked establishment, Mr. Garth, you are wasting your time," Reverend Lawton announced, staring down the end of his nose in indignation.
Tyree's laughter stung Percival to the quick, and his face reddened with anger. "This is a free country, Reverend Lawton. You are free to pursue your righteous concerns. However, I think I should point out to you that you will have a devil of a time finding enough people to march with you. Most of them can be found inside the Crystal Palace, buried in what you would call vice and cor
ruption."
Valentina saw the laughter dancing in Tyree's eyes. He was not in the last intimidated by the good reverend. She liked him in spite of the fact that he was a rascal and a rogue. He had been kind to her and had honored her wishes thus far. Looking into his eyes, she tried to decide if he had recognized her. All she saw was the twinkle of good humor. He was a man who never took life too seriously and was not impressed when others did.
"Why have you come then? I'm sure Miss Barrett wants nothing to do with the likes of you." Percival Lawton moved in front of Valentina as if he were the flaming hand of the Lord trying to protect her from degradation.
Tyree chuckled and winked at Valentina. "As a matter of fact, it is Miss Barrett I came to see. I would be deeply grateful if you would make the formal introductions. You see, we have a mutual acquaintance who has asked me to look in on her for him."
Tyree's eyes ran quickly over Valentina. Marquis had been right; she was a lovely angel. It was hard to think of her as the girl who charmed hundreds of men every night on the stage of the Crystal Palace. He had expected her to be beautiful, and he was not disappointed. She was the fairest of the fair. He could see uncertainty in her eyes and knew she was wondering if he suspected who she was. He decided to feign ignorance of her identity for the time being.
"Who would you know who would bean acquaintance of Miss Barrett's?" Percival questioned doubtfully. "She wouldn't associate with you and your kind."
Valentina said nothing for the moment. She knew why Tyree had come. He was here because Marquis had asked him to look in on her.
"I say you are a liar and a scoundrel, sir," Reverend Lawton was saying. "Leave this property at once."
Tyree's eyes hardened for the briefest moment and then danced with mirth. Looking past Percival, he spoke directly to Valentina. "Miss Barrett, I am a friend of Marquis Vincente's, and he's the one who asked me to keep an eye on you. I see you already have a champion in Reverend Lawton. If you will excuse me, I will take my leave and apologize for troubling you."
Golden Paradise (Vincente 1) Page 15
