Orchids in Moonlight

by Patricia Hagan

  The spark that had so easily ignited erupted into raging, hot, licking flames of passion that would not, could not be denied. He stretched out beside her to pull her almost roughly into his arms. "Tonight," he avowed raggedly, "I'll be a savage, my dearest, because I want you as I've never wanted a woman before."

  But want me forever, my darling, Jaime cried within, not for this moment, not for this night, but always and ever!

  Unable to speak the longing of her heart, she could only show him with her body how much she cared.

  * * *

  Enolita ran screaming toward the house, feet slipping on stones wet from the ocean spray as she struggled to keep from falling.

  In Jaime's room, the sound was barely heard, for the greenhouse was situated on the northernmost point, at the opposite end of the mission. Cord stirred, but only slightly. Jaime's head was on his shoulder, and her arm about him tightened as something tried to needle her awake. Yet they slept on, exhausted from their frenzied passion.

  Blake was downstairs, brooding in the parlor. He was still aching in body and spirit from the ugly confrontation with his father. Startled to hear Enolita yelling, he painfully pulled himself from the chair and went to see what was going on.

  She shoved open the door leading into the rear hallway, still shrieking at the top of her lungs. He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a vicious shake. "Get hold of yourself and tell me what's happened," he ordered tersely.

  For a moment she could not speak as she struggled to breathe past the sobs choking in her throat. Finally, she managed to whisper raggedly, "Oh, Senor Blake. I'm so sorry. So sorry. It's your father. I found him in the greenhouse. He's dead. Murdered. Oh, mi Dios, mi Dios." She lapsed into her native tongue.

  He pushed by her and, despite the sharp stabs of pain in his side from his father's brutal kicks, rushed to the greenhouse. Enolita followed close behind, fighting hysteria.

  He saw the shears sticking from his father's throat and froze. Then, with a roll of nausea, he whirled about dizzily to clutch the edge of a table.

  Enolita whimpered, "Who would do such a thing?"

  "Get the guards," he managed to croak. "Now."

  She fled to obey.

  With great effort, Blake forced himself to turn around and go to his father, blanching to see how his eyes were frozen in the horror of the final seconds of his life.

  Later, Blake would wonder why he reached out for the weapon and supposed it was because he found it grossly offensive to leave it stuck there, blades swallowed by the curdling blood.

  His hands closed about the handle.

  "Oh, God, no."

  Startled, he yanked the shears out, and blood that had not yet coagulated spurted on his hands, his clothing, as he whipped about to see Morena coming toward him.

  "What have you done?" She saw the scissors and threw up her arms to fend him off. "No, don't hurt me. Dear God, why did you kill him?"

  With a cry of indignant denial, Blake flung the shears away from him. "I didn't do it. He was already dead." He pressed his fingers against his temple, smearing blood on his skin. "You've got to believe me. I didn't. I couldn't."

  Suddenly he fell silent, washed with disgust to realize he was groveling to the woman he despised.

  He swung his head from side to side. "Damn you, no. I don't have to defend myself to you." His eyes narrowed. "But it was you, wasn't it? You killed him. The two of you were always fighting, and lately it was getting worse. You killed him because he finally told you to leave, didn't you?"

  She ran by him to fling herself at Stanton's feet, wrapping her arms about his legs as she wailed. "No. Never. I loved him. I could never do such a thing, I swear it. But I know who did. It could only have been him."

  The sounds of shouting came from outside as the guards rallied to Enolita's alarm.

  Blake jerked Morena away from his father's body, unable to bear the sight of her clinging to him. "What are you talking about? Tell me what you know about this, damn you."

  Her words tumbled out in a frenzy. "Austin. The bodyguard your father hired. He had me spread the word this morning he wanted to see him. He was furious because someone had told him Austin was enamored with Jaime, and he knew you were courting her, and he was going to run him off. And I saw him come in here right after I left to go to bed. I had tried to get your father to come with me, but he was determined to wait and have it out with Austin.

  "Now look what he's done." Her voice rose shrilly once more. "He's killed the man I love, all because of your whore." She looked up at him accusingly with angry, tear-filled eyes.

  Blake grabbed her. Resisting, she threw herself to the side, against a table, knocking over plants as he shouted, "You're lying. Jaime can't be involved with anyone else. She's with me every day. And don't you call her a whore," he warned.

  Some of Morena's bravado was returning, and she taunted him. "Every day, did you say? What about the nights? It is Austin who sleeps with her. Not you."

  Two of the guards came running in. Enolita was right behind them.

  Incensed beyond reason, Blake had raised his hand to strike Morena, but she caught his wrist. "I can prove what I say."

  The guards were staring, momentarily paralyzed, at Stanton's body. Then one of them came alive to grab Morena and twist her arms painfully behind her back. "What do you want us to do with her?"

  Enolita pushed her way forward. "No, no. It couldn't have been her. I heard her come in and go to the cellar, and he was alive then. I know, because he called me to bring him more whiskey. Then later, when I started out here to ask if he needed anything else because I wanted to go to bed, I saw that man, Austin, coming in. I went back to wait, and I fell asleep. When I came back, this is what I found." She pointed to the body and shuddered.

  "You see?" Morena shrieked as she struggled with the guard. "Austin was the last one here. It could only have been him." She watched anxiously as Blake silently debated whether to believe her. When she had found Cord in bed with Jaime, she had made up her mind to get rid of him, one way or another. And now the time had come.

  "I can prove it, damn you," she yelled impatiently. "They are together right now." And she knew that to be so, for she had crept through the secret passage to make sure.

  She continued to taunt. "Are you man enough to face it? Or are you so hellbent to punish me because your father loved me that you're willing to let them laugh at you behind your back over how blind and stupid you are? Or maybe you're just such a coward you can't stand for these men to see what a fool you are for your whore."

  Blake saw the way the guards exchanged uneasy glances. He did not believe for one minute that Jaime was involved with Cord Austin, sexually or otherwise, but was aware, if he did not accept Morena's challenge, that his credibility, his very manhood, would be in doubt forevermore. The story would spread, first among the guards, then the vaqueros, and, ultimately, beyond Pointe Grande and all the way to San Francisco. Everyone who heard would think him weak, spineless.

  "Let her go," he said to the guard, "but if she's lying, she'll hang."

  Morena did not like revealing the existence of the hidden passage, but she knew Jaime's door would be locked from the inside. By the time the guards broke in, Cord would either kill them or go out the window. She wasn't taking any chances. Besides, she'd not be needing the secret way again. With Cord out of the way, Jaime would be helpless, which meant Morena would soon have the map, the mine, and, ultimately, all the gold she needed to build her own palace. Blake Lavelle and Pointe Grande could go to hell, along with everyone else who had dared cross swords with her.

  Enolita was sent to get blankets to cover the body, then wait for further orders. Blake did not want the other guards or vaqueros awakened, nor the word of his father's death to spread, till he had settled with Morena.

  She led them down in the cellar to a far corner edged in cobwebs and smelling of dampness and mold. Standing before a dust-caked wine rack, she instructed, "You must be very quiet, or they will
hear us coming through the wall. I will go first, but stay close behind me. When we get there, I will push open a hidden door in the room, that looks like a molded panel on the other side. And I will prove once and for all I speak the truth," she added, with a vengeful glare at Blake.

  "How did you know about this passage?" he asked coldly.

  She told him how the secret had been handed down through her family, concluding with a smirk, "So you see, having Yahi blood has its advantages. Even your father did not discover it when he bought the mission and remodeled. It was too well hidden."

  With a soft grating sound, she pulled the wine rack forward, revealing the black abyss within. "We go in darkness," she said, motioning to one of the guards to set aside his lantern. Reluctantly, after a nod from Blake, he did so.

  They wound their way upwards, weaving around and around on a tiny narrow stairway.

  Blake felt as though he were going to smother in the enveloping darkness and began to wonder if it were all a trick and Morena planned, at some point, to turn and shove them all backward and make her escape. Or perhaps she had a gun, or still possessed the knife she'd threatened Jaime with. He told himself to be ready, lagging behind a few feet, dragging his hands against the cold, clammy rock wall on either side, ready to support himself should she attack. Behind him, he could hear the heavy breathing of the guards.

  Morena stopped.

  Blake braced himself and held his breath, straining to hear as she whispered, "You must stoop down to enter a hole that will take you inside the wall. Be very careful."

  Blake bent down, and reached to jerk at the arm of the man behind, indicating he should do the same.

  It was narrow. His chest and buttocks brushed against the stone molding of the wall, and it was necessary to walk sideways. Soon, however, the way widened, and he watched anxiously as soft light began to spread within the passage as Morena slowly, soundlessly, opened the panel.

  She stepped back in triumph so he could see into the room.

  Blake took one look and felt a sharp pain as his heart shattered.

  There, bathed in the glow of the bedside lantern, he could see them, locked in each other's arms... naked.

  With a bellow of rage, he burst into the room, the guards spilling out behind him, guns drawn. One of them spotted Cord's holster on the floor and kicked it out of reach.

  Jaime screamed at the same instant Cord came alive to realize they were trapped.

  "Bastard," Blake hissed, towering over them. Cord tried to get up, but one of the guards pushed him back down as Blake warned, "Don't move, or I'll have you shot here and now."

  Reaching to draw Jaime away from him, Blake urged tenderly, "Get your robe. Cover yourself. I know this isn't your fault."

  Morena laughed.

  Blake whirled on her angrily. "Get out of here."

  She refused. "I intend to see him pay for what he did. You killed him, damn you. And you'll die for it."

  It was all starting to come together for Cord. He could see the open panel in the wall revealing a hidden passage within. Morena had been spying, had led them to him. And now it appeared Lavelle had been murdered, and the finger was pointing at him. "I didn't do it," he said calmly.

  "The hell you didn't," Blake yelped.

  Behind him, Jaime scrambled for her robe, trying to think amid the madness surrounding her.

  Blake raged on. "You killed him because he found out you've been forcing yourself on Jaime, preying on her vulnerability, her grief over her father, and he was going to see you were punished."

  Cord shook his head. "You've got it all wrong. It wasn't like that. I saw him. We talked. He was mad over me nosing around asking about Chandler and told me to get out, but that's it. He was alive when I left him. And Jaime had nothing to do with it."

  "You're lying. Now get your clothes on, unless you want to go naked to your execution."

  Cord sat up and reached for his pants. "Ever hear of a trial?"

  "I'm not wasting time. You're going to hang, Austin. Tonight."

  "But not because you think I murdered your father, right? It's your way of revenge because of me and Jaime."

  Blake hit him with his fist. Cord's head snapped back, but only slightly. Rage emanated from his every pore. "Hitting a man with two guns pointed at him is real brave, mister."

  "Was it braver for you to stab my father with garden shears, you son of a bitch?"

  Jaime threw herself at Blake. "No, don't do this. I know you're upset over your father, but Cord didn't kill him. He's been here with me, all evening," she lied.

  Blake grabbed her by her arms and gave her a gentle shake. "Listen. I'm not angry with you about any of this. I love you, and I'm going to take care of you. It's you and me now. Forget your father. He's probably dead, just like mine. We're all alone, but we don't need anybody else."

  Focusing on Jaime, Blake had turned his back on Cord. Morena was listening, amused. The guards stood on either side of Cord but were not watching his face. Jaime, however, could see him. She was standing between him and the window, and with only a slight flick of his eyes, he let her know he wanted her to get out of the way.

  Slowly, she inched her way to the side, trying to keep attention on her. "No, I won't listen to you," she babbled nervously. "And you can't do this. It's wrong. Cord is innocent, I tell you—"

  He made his move.

  Racing to the window, he lunged out and reached up to grab the rope he had left hanging from the roof. Jaime threw herself between him and the guards. Blake yelled at them not to shoot.

  Morena, enraged to realize Cord was escaping, bolted forward to try and shove Jaime to one side, but Jaime had grasped the window's frame and was holding on with all her might.

  The guards rushed to pry her fingers loose, finally succeeding and slinging her into Blake's waiting arms, but it was too late. Leaning out the window they stared up into the moonlight just as Cord disappeared onto the roof.

  Trying to maintain his hold on Jaime as she struggled against him, Blake thundered his orders. "Get downstairs. Alert everyone. Ring the big bell in the tower. Surround the house. Be ready when he climbs down. Hurry. Go."

  They charged out of the room in a loud clatter. Morena was right behind them.

  "Let me go, damn you." Jaime fought against him, as he tried to wrestle her down to the bed in an attempt to calm her. "You can't shoot him down like a dog. He didn't kill your father, I tell you. Why won't you listen? Why are you so determined to see him die? Because of me? You've no right. I never promised you anything."

  "But he violated you," Blake said, choking on a sob to think of them together. "He raped you. It had to be that way. You'd never give in. I know you wouldn't. Now stay here, please. He has to pay for what he did to you, to my father."

  He rushed out of the room then, following after the others. Jaime bounded from the bed in quick pursuit.

  At ground level, the other guards were responding to the sharp pealing of the bell. They were shouting, yelling, and Jaime watched in horror as the night came alive with the hysterical voices of men running in all directions.

  Then came the cry she had prayed she would not hear, the words that chilled her bones to the marrow.

  "He's trapped. On the cliff behind the greenhouse. He tried to go down, the steps to the beach, but we headed him off. We've got him now."

  Jaime forced her trembling legs to run in that direction, all the while praying for a miracle. Dear God, they couldn't kill him. They couldn't...

  She slowed, terror choking the very life from her as she struggled to breathe despite the painful quickening in her chest.

  She could see him. Standing at the dangerous apex for which Pointe Grande took its name, Cord faced the angry advancing mob, his back to the boiling sea below.

  "Take him alive," Blake yelled. "I want to watch him hang for what he did."

  They moved closer, dozens of determined, enraged faces. Jaime froze, but only for an instant, then began to run once more, screaming C
ord's name over and over.

  Blake seemed to appear from out of nowhere to wrap his arms about her waist and hold her back. "Stay out of this, Jaime. He's a murderer. And you're only making a fool of yourself. Listen to me. I want to help you. We'll forget all this. I want to marry you anyway. You'll never want for anything ever again. It doesn't matter what he did to you. I love you—" His voice broke, and he burrowed his face in the thick softness of her hair and let the tears flow unashamedly.

  Jaime felt his body convulsing with sobs as he continued to hold her tightly. She could not escape him and could only watch helplessly as the men advanced on Cord.

  She threw her head back and screamed long and loud, and he looked to her. Their eyes locked in the eerie light of the flickering torches the men carried.

  Cord knew he had only one chance—the sea. But only if he was able to propel himself far enough out to miss the rocks when he landed. Beyond, he knew the water was deep, and the tide was brutal, and death was almost certain—but at least it would be by his own hand.

  With one last glance of longing at the woman he loved, he turned and hurled himself off the cliff.

  Chapter 24

  Jaime locked herself in her room and cried till there were no tears left.

  It had all happened so fast. Cord was dead, and her heart, her life, was shattered.

  They could not find his body. They had searched the beach, the rocks, and said it had to have been washed out to sea. So now it was over, all of it, and she had nothing left but broken dreams and precious memories.

  It was midmorning when Enolita came to knock on her door and call sorrowfully, "Senor Blake, he is so upset. He begs you to join him and help make the arrangements for his father."

  Jaime did not respond. She was trying not to think, to close herself within a meaningless void to try and hide from the grief that burned and smothered to the very core of her being.