Golden Paradise (Vincente 1)

by Constance O'Banyon

  Moving across the room, Salamar enfolded Valentina in her arms. Cooing to her as if she were a child, she allowed her to cry until her tears were spent.

  "I'm sorry, Salamar. You must think I am selfish and unfeeling. I can be a real trial at times, can't I?" Valentina said, smiling through her tears. "Forgive me?"

  "There is nothing to forgive. You are never a trial to me, Valentina," Salamar stated loyally. "If it is your wish, we will return to San Francisco today. No one will force you to do anything you do not want to do."

  Valentina drew in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. "I will go to Marquis. I will swallow my pride and take what he offers. It is the only way to protect the child from being shunned and my mother from shame."

  "Will you tell Marquis the child belongs to him?"

  "Yes. I want there to be no more lies between us."

  As Valentina moved across the room and out the door, a smile tugged at Salamar's mouth. "Life is going to be exciting from here on out," she said aloud to herself. "A new beginning in the golden land of California. A new generation will be born with proud Vincente blood flowing through its veins—a new generation with the stamina and endurance that Valentina will pass on to her children." Acting totally out of character, Salamar clapped her hands and chuckled delightedly. She hoped she would be around to watch Valentina and Marquis's children blossom and grow.

  The sweltering noonday heat seemed to radiate through the tent in which Marquis lay on a soft mattress. A splint held his right leg in place, while the other was bandaged from calf to knee, yet nothing seemed to alleviate the agonizing pain that ripped through his thigh.

  He was not taking well to languishing on a sickbed, waiting for Valentina to awaken and come to him. Tyree had tried to convince him that home was the best place for him, but Marquis stubbornly refused to be moved until Valentina came to him. He had the priest waiting at a nearby mission, ready to perform the ceremony should Valentina agree to wed him. Not that Marquis would accept her refusal. Hell, if he had to, he would force her into marriage, he silently swore.

  Fleetingly, Marquis wondered about himself. Why had he tried to block out Jordanna's baby, only to insist on marrying Valentina. Never had his Spanish heritage felt so binding to him; never had he been pulled in so many directions. His conscience was so heavy!

  He would take care of Jordanna and his child. In time he might even seek custody of it, but he would not ever give up Valentina. He wanted her as his wife. He needed her so desperately.

  The tent flap was thrown aside and Tyree stooped to enter. Seeing that his friend was awake, he dropped down on a stool, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "Your grandfather sent word that he wants you home today. He wants the family doctor to tend your injuries."

  "I will not go until I can take Valentina home with me as my bride." A light flickered in the depths of Marquis's dark eyes. "Only then will I go home."

  "What if she won't have you?"

  "She will have me."

  Tyree chuckled. "You are very sure of yourself, my friend. I wouldn't be planning the future just yet if I were you. Ole gentleman, Fate has a way of tossing rocks on our paths. Just when we think our lives are all neat and orderly, we find another obstacle."

  "I can deal with whatever Fate throws at me," Marquis stated with an assurance he was far from feeling. "What I cannot deal with is lying here doing nothing."

  Neither of them heard the soft footsteps outside the tent. Tyree smiled when he heard Valentina call out in a small voice. "Marquis, may I enter?"

  "Here's your chance to test Fate," Tyree stated, rising to his full height and moving across the tent. "I'll let her in on my way out." Giving Marquis a quick smile, he added. "Good luck, my friend. I sincerely hope she'll have you."

  As Tyree swept out of the tent, he greeted Valentina with a long, searching look. "You don't look any worse from your ordeal. Are you feeling well?"

  "Yes, thank you. Salamar tells me I have you to thank for the rescue. I stand in your debt once again."

  He shrugged off her gratitude and nodded toward the tent. "You had better go in. He's chomping at the bit to see you."

  Valentina lowered her voice so it would not reach the inside of the tent. "How is he, Tyree?"

  "Mending. We still don't know about his legs. Even though he tries to hide it, I believe they give him a great deal of pain." Pulling the tent flap aside, he smiled. "Go in. He's waiting for you."

  Valentina gathered up her courage and raised her head, feeling as if she were Daniel walking into the lion's den. The heat in the tent was oppressive, but it was the heat of Marquis's glance that sent shivers down Valentina's spine. His eyes were so intense she had to lower hers.

  "Do you know I have waited all day for you?" he stated sourly.

  She seated herself on the stool Tyree had just vacated.

  "How are you feeling? Do your legs pain you much?" she asked, concern written all over her beautiful face. He was dressed in dark blue, tight-fitting trousers, the legs of which had been slit to accommodate the splint and bandages. She wanted to reach out and soothe away the pain she saw on his face.

  "Do you recall that I asked you to marry me while we were trapped in the mine?" Marquis had gotten right to the point. He was impatient and in no mood to play games. She was unaware of the yearning that caused Marquis's heart to beat wildly. She did not see the fear, the uncertainty, in his dark eyes.

  Valentina managed to smile tightly. "I will not hold you to any proposal I extracted from you under duress."

  He waved her stab at humor aside. "I am waiting for your answer." His voice was clipped and he sounded as if he had just issued a command.

  "I told you I won't hold you to—"

  "Your answer," he demanded as his eyes collided with hers. "What is your answer?"

  Valentina could not know that his insides were drawn up into a tight knot as he tensely waited for her to reply. Fear gnawed at his insides, for he believed she might laugh at his offer of marriage. He had spoken brave words to Tyree when he had said he would never take Valentina's no for an answer. He realized with a sinking heart that if she refused him there would be no way he could force her to reconsider.

  Valentina dropped her eyes from his probing gaze. "Tell me the reason you are doing this. Are you just being kind?" She waited for his answer, hoping against hope that he would say he loved her. She wanted to hear him say his life would not be complete without her. If he said he loved her, she would tell him about his baby.

  Marquis was thoughtful for a moment as he pondered how to answer Valentina. To confess his love would leave him open to hurt and rejection. He already knew she loved another man. He was nothing if not a prideful man, and so he said instead, "I have been thinking for some months now—actually since the Americans took over California—that the time may come when the gringos might not honor the land grant handed down to my family by a Spanish king many years ago. I believe if I were to marry into your race, Paraiso del Norte would be safe for the generations to come."

  Valentina felt her hopes dashed into nothingness. Proudly holding her head high, she replied, "I cannot help you in this. You would do well to look elsewhere for the salvation of Paraiso del Norte. As you very well know, I am not American—I'm English."

  He watched her face closely. "It amounts to the same thing. You are of the same race. Marry me and we will both gain from the endeavor. I will gain assurance that my land will be in my family for future generations; you will have a name for your baby."

  Valentina met his eyes, trying to make some sense out of what he was saying. "You have a poor reason for wanting me as your wife, Marquis. I do not believe that you fear the Americans will eventually take your land. What is the real reason you want me to marry you?"

  He hesitated, wondering if he should confess his feelings for her. Never one to speak rashly, he weighed his words carefully. "I would be less than honest with you if I did not admit to being drawn to you. You have known for so
me time that I have feelings for you. I admitted as much while we were trapped in the mine. I find the thought of having a beautiful, silver-eyed wife very appealing. I believe I would like to awaken each day and find you seated across the breakfast table from me."

  Valentina blushed, remembering Marquis's bold caresses while they had been trapped in the cave. The look he gave her proved he was remembering too. Quickly she looked away from him. "What about my baby?" she asked boldly.

  His eyes never wavered. "The child will have my name. But there is one point I must stress to you, so there will be no misunderstanding later. Should you bear a son, he could never inherit Paraiso del Norte."

  "What do you mean?" she asked, feeling an ache deep inside.

  "Only a son that is fathered by me will inherit my land. I want this understood right now."

  Valentina remembered Salamar's telling her that she would have a daughter. She wondered what Marquis's reaction would be if she were to tell him he had fathered her baby. He had admitted that he was drawn to her, but was that the true reason he wanted to marry her? So many questions nagged at her, and she needed some answers.

  "Will you marry me, Valentina?" he asked softly.

  "I . . . don't understand why you would want me and my baby. The only reasons you have given me, thus far, are not very convincing."

  Marquis frowned slightly, wondering how he could persuade Valentina to marry him without revealing his love for her. "Let us say that my planned marriage to Isabel ended abruptly, leaving me with no suitable bride. My grandfather is getting no younger and would see me married. You will grace my table and make an admirable wife to show off to my friends and neighbors."

  Valentina felt the sting of his words like the twisting of a knife in her heart. Had he been in love with Isabel, and had she refused to marry him? Was he asking her to marry him so he could save face before his friends?

  Pushing her hurt aside, she asked the most obvious question. "Have you thought how your friends will react when I deliver a child two months earlier than the accepted nine-month period?"

  "That will be no problem. My doctor is a good friend. He will swear the baby was born prematurely. Even if some friends do not believe the lie, they will only think I loved you so much I could not wait to be married to you before I bedded you."

  Suddenly the truth hit Valentina full force. She wondered why it had taken her so long to see it. "You want everyone to think that you and I . . . that we . . . that this baby is yours, and it was conceived before we were married. You were shamed when Isabel refused to marry you, and you want everyone to think that you were already . . . that you—"

  "That I was in love with you all along," he finished for her. "Yes, that would save face, would it not?" His eyes sparkled as he smiled at her. "What do you say? Do we seal a bargain that will be beneficial to us both?"

  Valentina tried to think of a hundred reasons to say no. Point by point, arguments against marrying Marquis started clicking off in Valentina's mind. He would probably trample on her heart, for she loved him so much and he did not love her at all. They came from different worlds, worlds that were far apart in language and customs. At one time Spain and England had warred over those differences. Marquis believed she loved another man, and she believed he still loved Isabel. He was arrogant, haughty, prideful, and demanding. How could she marry this man?

  Marquis watched the different emotions playing across her face. He knew she was weighing her decision carefully. "Tell me, Valentina, do you hesitate because I may become a cripple? If so, you are wise to think on this. I do not imagine it would be too pleasant being married to a cripple."

  Valentina shook her head and looked into his eyes. She wanted to go down on her knees and gather him to her. She wanted to assure him that she would love him even if he were to lose both legs. "It is my fault that you were injured, Marquis," she admitted through trembling lips. "I would never turn you away because you suffered from my stubbornness. How can you think I would be so heartless?"

  He smiled and reached for her hand. "It would seem we have cleared away all your objections, does it not? Say you will become my wife, Valentina?" Slowly she gave him her hand and felt his grip tighten about her fingers. "Do we make a pact, Valentina?"

  ". . . You may regret it later."

  "Nothing is certain in this life. I believe we are well suited to each other. Say . . . yes," he whispered, causing an ache deep inside of Valentina.

  She closed her eyes for just a moment. There were many reasons she should say no, but her heart cried out for her to accept him on any terms. Opening her eyes, she found him staring intently at her. ". . . Yes, I will marry you.

  Joy leapt into Marquis's eyes, and his heart soared like a bird on wing before his lashes half covered those glorious dark eyes and he was able to hide his jubilance behind a mask of casual indifference. "Good. I was sure you would be sensible. Go and prepare yourself for travel. I have plans to make."

  Valentina was stunned. She had just agreed to marry Marquis. He had accepted her answer with as little enthusiasm as if she had agreed to bring him a drink of water. Should he not at the very least have said something about being happy that she had accepted his proposal? Did he have to say she was being sensible? When was he going to take her in his arms and kiss her?

  Standing up, she hid her disappointment. "When would you want the wedding to take place, Marquis?"

  "We will be married today. There is a small mission that lies between here and Paraiso del Norte. We will be married there."

  "I cannot marry you this soon. I have to get home to my mother. She will have to be told that I could find nothing about my father."

  "I will send Salamar and six of my vaqueros to transport your mother to Paraiso del Norte. They will be advised to take the greatest care of her health."

  "It seems that you have everything planned, with one exception. What will your family think of our marriage? I cannot believe that they will agree wholeheartedly."

  "My sister will be delighted. My grandfather will think I am most fortunate, and my mother will accept you in the course of time. Now go and send Tyree to me."

  Valentina took a hesitant step toward the exit, wishing she dared ask if he was happy that she would be his wife. Raising her head and squaring her shoulders, she moved through the opening into the bright sunlight. The sky was its usual brilliant blue, and the same sun shed its light down on the golden land. Everything was the same, except Valentina. She had committed herself to a life of torment. She would be married to the man she loved, but he would never love her. How could she compete with the love he had for the beautiful fiery-tempered Isabel?

  Seeing Salamar standing in front of the cabin, Valentina hastened toward her. Salamar would give her the comfort she needed. She would give her the assurance that Marquis had failed to offer.

  Marquis gritted his teeth, feeling pain as if it were a red-hot poker being jabbed into his legs. It had taken considerable effort to hide his agony from Valentina. He had never wanted her pity, although he suspected that was why she had agreed to marry him. He had used her guilty feelings—played on her sympathy—to gain her hand in marriage. But it mattered little what her reasons were for marrying him. He felt no qualms about capitalizing on her guilt.

  Marquis had to have Valentina, and soon she would be his. No one—not even the man who had fathered her child—could take her away from him now.

  22

  In spite of the agonizing pain, Marquis refused to ride in the back of the wagon his grandfather had sent to transport him home. He insisted on riding his own horse, even though each step the animal took made him feel as if nettles were stabbing into his legs and back.

  Still in command of the situation, he had sent six of his vaquero's with Salamar to make arrangements for transporting Valentina's mother to Paraiso del Norte. One of his men had gone ahead to inform his grandfather that he would be bringing Valentina Barrett home as his bride.

  Valentina rode between Marquis
and Tyree, staring straight ahead. Now that the heat of the moment had subsided, she was having second thoughts about her hasty decision to marry Marquis. What did she really know about him, aside from the fact that she loved him? She knew nothing about his customs and everyday life. What duties would she be expected to perform as the wife of a Vincente? She hoped he would treat her differently after they were married. Thus far, he had all but ignored her.

  Tyree could feel her uneasiness and drew her into conversation. "I haven't had the chance to wish you well, Valentina. Marquis already knows how I feel, but I want you to know that I wish you both every happiness. You are two of my best friends, and I will glory in your happiness."

  She smiled over at him. "I hope you know that I will always be your friend, Tyree. You have proven time and time again that you are mine."

  Marquis's leg was throbbing, and he was in no mood to watch Valentina flirt with Tyree. "I thought we agreed you would ride ahead and tell the priest that we are on our way, Tyree," Marquis said sourly.

  Tyree's lusty laugh caught Valentina's ear, and he cast Marquis an all-knowing glance, having realized his friend was jealous. He spurred his horse forward, wondering if Valentina knew how possessive her future husband was going to be. "I'll see you in church," he called back over his shoulder, and soon he was lost in a cloud of dust.

  Without Tyree's comforting presence, silence and gloom hung heavily over the wedding couple. Looking across at Marquis, Valentina saw the beads of perspiration on his brow and the whiteness around his mouth.

  "Are you in pain?" she asked quickly. "You shouldn't be riding so great a distance on horseback. Would it not be better for you to ride in the—"

  He cast her a glance that froze her next words into silence. "I am in a better position to judge what I should and should not do. I am not like your puny Englishmen, who cannot endure a little discomfort."

  Valentina choked back her hurt and her angry reply. She wished that Salamar could have stayed with her until after the wedding. Even though she was surrounded by more than a dozen vaqueros, she felt alone and deserted. Training her eyes on the landscape, she tried not to look at Marquis. If he was going to be rude to her just because she was concerned about his well being, he could just suffer for all she cared. Her eyes misted at the thought of him being in pain. God help her, where was this all going to end?