Golden Roses

by Patricia Hagan

  The bull emitted a mighty roar as he lunged at one of the men. Then, at the last instant, he changed course and moved to the right, taking one of the other men by surprise. His horns drove into the man’s horse, rupturing his belly.

  Amber got to her feet. She had seen enough.

  “Sit down!” Valdis ordered, reaching out to grasp her wrist, but Amber twisted away.

  “No!”

  She moved toward the stairs, and Maretta gasped, “Oh, Valdis, do something. For a member of the Alezparito family to leave the presidential box is disgraceful! Oh! I’m afraid I may faint.”

  “Do whatever makes you feel comfortable,” Amber said over her shoulder as she hastened away. “That is what I am doing.”

  Maretta went limp in her chair, and Valdis turned to minister to her—forced, for the moment, to allow Amber to leave.

  She made her way down from the box, moving to the outside of the arena. Leaning against the high wooden fence, she lifted her lace fan and waved it rapidly before her face.

  “Señorita Amber!”

  She started to run, then realized it was not Valdis calling to her, but Armand.

  As Armand reached her, he clutched her shoulders, looking at her searchingly. “Are you ill?”

  “In a way,” she told him bluntly. “It made me sick to see that horse being gored. I just couldn’t watch anymore. I’m sorry. Please go back inside and do what you have to do. I’m going to wait out here.”

  “Now listen to me.” He gripped her tighter, forcing her to meet his steady, unwavering gaze. “I was afraid of this. You must understand that the killing of the horses in the ring is indefensible. But it sometimes happens. I can understand your revulsion, but please, my moonstar, return to the box. I have to know that you are watching me today.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Do you know what you are asking of me? I don’t like any of this.” She shook her head firmly.

  He grinned, squeezing her shoulders. “This is my world, Amber, and now it is your world also. You must learn to live in it. Please return to your seat. I ask you to do this for the friendship that grows between us.”

  She looked confused. “Armand, we just met last night, and—”

  “Something is happening to us,” he interrupted, cupping her chin in his hand, his eyes shining into hers. “You feel it. I feel it.” He shuddered involuntarily. “God, but you are beautiful. I must go now, before I forget where we are. Please, say you will go back inside. I will hold you in my heart until we meet again.”

  Amber could only nod dizzily.

  He released her, bowed slightly, then turned and walked purposefully back into the arena.

  Amber stared after him. What was happening to her? There was a frightening emotion within whenever he touched her. What was this feeling taking hold, threatening her?

  Just then, Cord Hayden stepped from behind a wooden partition, and Amber gasped, startled. He leaned back against the wall, arms folded across his chest, the play of a smile on his lips. “Well, Miss Forrest, it seems you have gotten yourself into quite a dilemma in a very short time.”

  “How long have you been eavesdropping?” she asked coolly, accusingly.

  “I wasn’t eavesdropping. Just overhearing. I saw you run out, too, and I was coming to ask if anything was wrong, but Armand got to you first. Now, about your dilemma.” He grinned. “You’ve got yourself caught between Armand Mendosa and Valdis Alezparito, the former a good man, the latter a real mean character. It’s a logical choice for any decent woman, but that same choice would be dangerous.”

  She sighed, exasperated. “I really don’t know what you are talking about, Mr. Hayden, nor why you concern yourself with my business.”

  “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t,” he answered smoothly. “Armand can usually handle himself where his women are concerned, but this time it’s different. Since meeting you last night, he’s talked of nothing else. I’ve known him a few years, and I’ve never seen him so taken with any woman. I can see why. You’re damn beautiful,” he nodded matter-of-factly, “but you’re also poison because it’s obvious Valdis has designs on you.”

  “Well, no one need have designs on me,” she snapped indignantly. “It is my intention to leave Mexico as soon as possible. I’m not interested in Armand in the way you suggest. He’s…my friend. He saved my life. As for Valdis, I hate the man,” she finished, wondering why she had confided so much.

  He smiled. “Well, I’m glad to hear all of this. The last thing Armand needs is to lose his head over a woman. Just make sure you let him know he’s just a friend.”

  She tilted her head to stare up at him defiantly. “May I ask what is your interest in all of this?”

  He shrugged. “Armand is my friend. I don’t want to see him so involved with a woman that he loses his concentration in the ring. When that happens to a matador, when he doesn’t have his mind totally on what he’s doing, he can be killed. I’ve seen it happen.”

  He flashed her a grin that she found infuriating. “There will be some problems if he tries to court you. It’s going to be hard for him to visit the Alezparito ranch, because Maretta’s determined to marry him, and Valdis means to make it happen.”

  Amber ached to tell him to keep silent. After all, how much did she really know about this man? He might really be a friend of Valdis’s, and if she told him she was scheming to get her stolen money back, he might tell Valdis.

  She said tightly, “Thank you for your warning, Mr. Hayden. I assure you that my first concern is also for Armand’s safety, and I think you worry needlessly.”

  He smiled in that arrogant manner. “Men do tend to forget themselves when they fall for a pretty face,” he said.

  Amber snapped, “And has that ever happened to you, Mr. Hayden? Has a pretty face ever made you forget yourself?”

  His dark brown eyes suddenly became stormy, flecked with red. His lips twitched, and it was apparent that she had struck a disconcerting chord.

  But the moment passed just as quickly, and Cord Hayden looked at her coolly and smiled. “I would say that it has, Miss Forrest—and that is to my advantage now. While I find you quite appealing, you won’t make me forget a damn thing. But you’ll make me remember plenty.”

  Before she could reply, he tipped his hat and walked away. She watched him go, swaggering. She saw, too, that other men instinctively got out of his way as he walked. He was not a man to be crossed.

  Now there was a new feeling surging up inside her, this one more disturbing than what she had felt with Armand. It was, she reflected, as though she had felt this before…in another time, another place. But what did that mean?

  “There you are!” Valdis’s voice cracked, and rough hands reached out to grasp her arms painfully. He moved her along toward the arena. In an ominous whisper, he said, “I will not have you making a fool of yourself, Amber. You will come inside and sit next to me in the presidential box, and whether you enjoy what you see or not, you will act as though you do. For if you do not, when we get back to the ranch, so help me, I will strip your buttocks bare and thrash you like the willful child you are.”

  She looked up at him and gasped, astonished, stumbling as he yanked her along roughly. “You…you wouldn’t dare!” she cried.

  “You listen to me.” He ground out the words between clenched teeth. “I own and control everything on that ranch, and everyone—on four legs or two—obeys me. I will whip you until you beg to do my will. Do you understand me?”

  Amber could restrain herself no longer. She lashed out, “I understand that you’re a coward and a bully, Valdis, and I will never bend to your will. I would rather die! Don’t you ever threaten me again!”

  They had reached the outside of the presidential box. Valdis stopped and looked at her with so much fury that it was all she could do to stop herself from trembling. “Tonight,” he hissed, “you will learn what happens when you dare to defy me.” He pushed her inside the box and into her seat.

  Maretta glanced at h
er reproachfully, then saw Valdis’s face and turned away.

  “I am not frightened of you, Valdis,” Amber snapped.

  He kept silent, taking his seat without looking at her again.

  Amber sat silently, looking straight out into the bullring but not seeing the scene at all. Her mind was turned inward, to the realization that she was in terrible trouble. Valdis was as intent upon having her for his own as a man could be, and everyone around Valdis was frightened of him. What, then, could she expect if she spurned him?

  Keeping all expression from her face, knowing how great a mistake it would be to let Valdis know she was afraid of him, Amber willed her emotions aside and told herself to wait until she was alone. She would think this out in a safe place, away from him. For the moment, she would perform, make herself seem fearless and poised. There was, heaven knew, time enough for her jumbled emotions later on.

  Amber forgot Valdis as Armand entered the ring. After a moment, her eyes went from Armand to the bull: over a thousand pounds of raw fury. He could, in a short lunge, travel faster than a galloping racehorse. He could toss both a horse and its rider into the air. He could kill a man in a few seconds.

  Armand had only fifteen minutes in which to kill the bull. He had to rely on his skill with the cape and his ability to create an illusion.

  She watched, heart pounding wildly, as Valdis stiffly explained that this was the third and final act of the bullfight, the most dangerous part.

  A scream locked in her throat as she saw Armand, arm raised high, pass his body directly over the bull’s right horn, exposing for daring seconds the femoral artery and vein of his upper thigh. The misjudgment of even an inch could mean the matador’s life.

  “Toro!” Armand cried, and the crowd responded unison, “Olé!”

  Again and again Armand called out the challenge, and each time he was answered by hundreds of voices making one thunderous cry of approval.

  The bull, head down, shoulder muscles pierced by pics and banderillas, snorted and pawed the ground as he watched Armand’s every move.

  Armand stepped to his waiting attendant and accepted the heart-shaped cape of scarlet wool. Holding the cape high in the air with one hand, he used his other hand to remove his hat and began to strut in a circle, waving to the screaming crowd.

  Pausing before the presidential box, Armand looked up at Amber and smiled.

  “He smiles for me!” Maretta cried.

  Amber said nothing. Valdis sat in stony silence. Suddenly, Armand waved his hat in the air for a few seconds, and then, with a well-aimed pitch, landed it right in Amber’s lap. With a sweeping bow, he turned to face the waiting bull.

  Maretta attempted to stand, but Valdis had seen the movement coming and placed a restraining arm across her, pinning her in her seat. “No,” she cried softly. “He cannot do this to me.”

  Amber fingered the little hat, not really understanding the significance of the gesture.

  Valdis turned stiffly and said accusingly, “Armand Mendosa has dedicated the bull to you by throwing you his montera. We will discuss this tonight…when we discuss other things,” he added meaningfully.

  Amber sighed. None of this was her fault. Her eyes wandered to the railing, and she saw Cord Hayden watching her. He tipped his hat in an “I-told-you-so” gesture. Lifting her chin in dismissal, she looked away.

  Armand was working closer to the bull, his passes death-defying before the alternate waves of sound and silence washing down from the stands.

  Suddenly, he fell to his knees in the sand. The bull charged, exploding with fury into the crimson cape. Amber’s hands flew to her mouth as, without so much as a glance over his shoulder, Armand lured the beast back to him in a corkscrew turn around his pivoting body.

  Armand stepped back, rose on tiptoe, and, as the bull drove straight for him, head lowered, Armand drove the sword high between the animal’s shoulder blades.

  The bull crumpled, dying in a pool of blood.

  The crowd screamed hysterically as Armand strutted proudly toward the presidential box. Every few steps he paused, taking sweeping bows to the thunderous ovation.

  When he was standing just beneath the box, he looked up at Amber expectantly. She stared back, confused. What was she supposed to do at this point? While she wondered, Valdis snatched the hat from Amber’s lap and angrily tossed it out of the box into the ring. She watched, astonished, as Armand reached for it and missed. The hat landed in the dirt.

  Armand looked up, eyes narrowing on Valdis’s glaring face. Armand turned his back and walked away, flowers raining down upon him from all around the arena.

  “Good! Good!” Maretta was saying. “He missed the hat. A matador never misses the hat. You have shamed him, Valdis. He deserves it for letting the puta bewitch him.”

  Amber flared, knowing exactly what puta meant. Leaping to her feet, she whirled on Maretta and cried, “How dare you say such a thing, Maretta? What have I ever done to you to make you hate me so? I didn’t ask Armand to throw me his hat. Now the two of you have embarrassed him in his moment of glory.”

  “Sit down and shut your mouth,” Valdis snarled. “Do not incense me further, Amber. Already you have a merciless beating coming to you tonight.”

  “You won’t touch me,” Amber cried, moving to the stairs. “I find both of you despicable!”

  Amber ran down the steps, bumping into people in her haste. She reached the main corridor out of the arena and looked over her shoulder to see that Valdis was only a short distance behind her.

  Running out the main gate, she felt herself being grabbed around the waist and she panicked. But it was not Valdis.

  “Let her be, Valdis,” Cord Hayden barked as Valdis skidded to a stop before him. Cord kept his grip on Amber. “I’ll take her back to the ranch.”

  People had stopped to stare, and Valdis struggled to control himself. In a strained voice, he said, “It would not be proper. The two of you would be alone. I have no duenna to send with you.”

  “We have no need of a chaperone,” Cord scoffed. “Besides,” he added rakishly, “if I wanted to seduce Amber, it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference whether there was a duenna around or not.”

  Amber gasped, and Valdis stiffened. “Señor, I will ask you to hold your tongue.”

  “Just like you hold yours, right, Valdis?” Cord snapped, reaching out to wrap possessive fingers around Amber’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  Valdis could only watch them walk away. He did not want a scene, not with people watching. There had been too much talk in the valley already. But one day…one day, he vowed, Cord Hayden would pay for daring to defy him.

  Chapter Six

  “Wait here,” Cord commanded, leaving Amber near a hitching post as he went to talk to an old man standing beside a horse and wagon. Cord handed the man some money, then motioned to Amber.

  “I am grateful to you,” she said softly when they were seated on the wagon’s crude wooden bench. Cord popped the reins and the tired-looking horse began lumbering forward.

  “It won’t be as comfortable as riding in that expensive Alezparito carriage,” he told her as he stared straight ahead, “but maybe the company will be a bit more pleasant.”

  “I’m sure it will be,” she said quickly, then felt foolish.

  Cord flashed her a warm smile. “Don’t be nervous with me. I don’t bite. Well, not all the time. And when I do, it’s in places you’d like to be bitten.”

  “Sir!” Amber gasped. Then she saw the laughter in his eyes and felt easier. “Do you always say such bold things to women?”

  “Only to women who blush at bold things. Now tell me why you ran out of the arena looking so upset.”

  She explained, and finished by saying, “I’m afraid I really didn’t know what was going on at the time, only that something had happened that infuriated both Valdis and Maretta.”

  Cord laughed. “I’m surprised at Armand being so bold. It’s a pretty big thing when a matador dedicates his kill to
a señorita. When the señorita is young, pretty, and unmarried, it’s usually a declaration of his intention to court her. For you to be sitting with Maretta…well, Armand is living dangerously.”

  Amber stammered, “I…I hardly know him.” She shook her head from side to side, long hair whipping about her face in the breeze. “I never expected any of this. Sometimes I don’t understand what’s going on.”

  Cord turned to give her a probing look. “Just what did you expect when you came to Mexico?”

  She bit her lip, determined that the pain he had suddenly evoked would not bring tears. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, then said, “I don’t know, exactly. I only know what I didn’t expect…to find my father dead, my stepmother treated worse than a servant in her own house, and a tyrant like Valdis. He stole all the money I had in the world in order to keep me a prisoner. All I wanted was to leave here.”

  Cord gently prodded, “I think you’d better tell me all of it, Amber. Start at the beginning.”

  She shook her head in dismay. “I have no right to burden you with my problems, and besides…” she added fearfully, “how do I know I can trust you?”

  “Do you have any choice?” he asked plainly.

  “Yes,” she countered. “I can try to solve my problems myself.”

  “Right now you aren’t doing a very good job. So why don’t you just unburden on me? I am no friend of Valdis’s. You can trust me.”

  Amber gazed at him. Again, it was as though she had known him before, somewhere. Making a sudden decision, she told him all of it. He listened quietly, staring at the road ahead as the horse plodded along.

  When she had finished, he began speaking in a low voice. “I’m going to try and get you out of there, Amber, but I will have to be careful. I can’t let Armand know just how desperate the situation is, and I’m going to ask you not to tell him.”