by Linda Ladd
As she contemplated her imminent wedding to the man she loved, she realized she was afraid. Abruptly, she stood, her quick movement causing her voluminous skirt to rustle around her ankles. A nosegay of white roses lay on the small mirrored stand where twin candles burned. She took it in her hand.
Earlier in the day, Tomas had brought the bouquet to her. She fingered the soft silk ribbons dangling from the silver holder, remembering how sweet he'd been. Since Chase had told her how Tomas felt, she'd been careful not to encourage him in any way, determined to alleviate any kind of strife between Chase and his brother. It hadn't been easy for her, and her teeth caught at her lip as she recalled his hurt looks when she'd pointedly avoided his company during the past two weeks since Chase's return.
Thank goodness, all the preparations were at an end. Although Carlisle hadn't been expected to worry herself with the wedding details, and since Chase had absented himself from the Casa Amarilla as much as possible, Dona Maria had happily taken matters into her own capable hands.
She'd discussed with Carlisle the importance of keeping her condition secret, pointing out that the discovery would ruin Carlisle's reputation in the city. She'd therefore arranged for Carlisle to spend the last months of her confinement in the city of Puebla with Chase's aunt Isabella, who lived at the great hacienda of the Morelos family. That way, she'd explained, no one would know the exact date of the baby's birth.
Another problem Chase's mother took in hand was the breach of Chase's betrothal with the Moreno family, old and honored gachupines with pure Spanish bloodlines. When questioned, she'd quietly assured Carlisle that the contract had been voided.
In the quiet room, Carlisle's sigh was forlorn. More and more, she'd been plagued by the fear that she was doing the wrong thing. If Chase felt trapped into marriage because of the baby, what kind of life could she possibly hope to share with him? Would she always be the object of his scorn? Perhaps she should flee now, before it was too late, back to her brothers. Gray and Stone would take care of her.
But how could she do that? She had not even had the courage yet to send word that she was expecting a child. Gray would be furious, and he'd probably come to Mexico, which would make everything between Chase and her that much worse. No, she would wait until she was married, perhaps even after the baby was born. Then she'd tell them everything. They knew she rarely wrote letters—even when she had been in the convent. Her brothers had always scolded her about that, though if truth be told, they were hardly what you'd call devoted correspondents themselves.
Carlisle looked toward the door as someone tapped for admittance. Dona Maria appeared, adorned in a lustrous, high-necked gray silk gown. Draped carefully over one arm was a long ivory mantilla of beautiful Spanish lace.
"The carriage awaits us at the door," she said, hurrying across the room toward Carlisle. "Are you ready, my hija bonita?"
Carlisle was touched that she called her daughter. No one had ever done so before. She hardly remembered her own mother, who had died when Carlisle was very small. Despite Dona Maria's kindness, Carlisle's smile was apprehensive.
"I'm afraid I'm doing the wrong thing, Dona Maria."
"Ah, niña, you must stop all this worrying and put a smile on your face. This is your wedding day, and you are marrying the man you love, no?"
"But he doesn't love me! He told me he could never love me!"
"But that is because he is un hombre, querida. It is the fierce pride of our Mexican men that makes them so hard and unyielding. Inside here," she said, putting her fingertips to her breast, "my son knows what he really feels. One day he will tell you." Her dark eyes sparkled. "And then he will come to me and thank me for showing him his duty. I know Chaso, niña. You must believe me."
Carlisle did feel better. She hugged the older woman lightly. "How lucky I am to have you on my side. At first, I thought you'd hate me."
Dona Maria cupped her palm against the elegant curve of Carlisle's cheek. "You are very hard to hate, Carlita, and I think my stubborn son will find that out very soon." She drew back suddenly, carefully displaying the fragile veil in front of her. "But look, I have brought this lovely mantilla for you to wear in the ceremony. It has been in my family for six generations. I would be pleased if you'd wear it when you become my only daughter."
Touched, Carlisle laid her fingers on the old lace, so soft and precious. "I would be very honored," she said softly. "Gracias, Dona Maria."
"You honor me, and my son. But you must not weep. Chaso will be humiliated if you appear with swollen eyes. Now turn around and let me help arrange your mantilla."
Carlisle obeyed, watching as Dona Maria slid a white, emerald-encrusted Spanish comb into Carlisle's elaborately coiled chignon.
"And this is my wedding present to you. It, too, is a family treasure. It is said that long ago, in Spain, one of our ancestors, a beautiful lady with blond hair and dark blue eyes just like's Chaso's, wore it when she wed a brave conquistador who sailed with the great Cortez. Someday you and Chaso will present it to your own daughter." She patted Carlisle's hand. "There, now you are even more beautiful. Chaso will be very proud."
Carlisle stared at the winking emeralds as Chase's mother arranged the ivory lace lovingly over the comb and shadowed her face with its intricate designs.
"I pray he will be proud," Carlisle murmured, not at all sure he would be.
"Chaso is a man, is he not? He will be struck as if by a thunderbolt when he sees you at the altar. But we must hurry or he will be angry with us for making him wait!"
Chase was angry, all right, though his bronzed, handsome face showed no trace of such emotion. He stood tall and straight just inside the front rail of the ancient Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Beside him, Tomas stood as his padrino, frowning as if he were not his brother's best man but a felon awaiting execution. In his hands, he twisted the heavy emerald ring Chase would soon slide on Carlisle's finger.
Chase looked out over the great, cavernous nave where hundreds of very curious, elaborately costumed guests had already found their seats. Inside the mantilla-covered heads of the ladies, he had a feeling the most deliciously wicked conjectures were taking shape about why he'd embarked on such a sudden alliance with a gringa.
Of course, none would dare speak the questions aloud for fear of bringing down the wrath of Dona Maria Jimenez y Morelos. Instead, they'd whisper in their walled patios behind fans, and spend the next nine months scrutinizing Carlisle's waistline. And they would not be disappointed in their scandalmongering.
Damn, where was she? Didn't she know she'd only add fuel to the bonfires of gossip by showing up late for the wedding? His mother surely knew the consequences of her tardiness. He resisted the urge to pluck the gold pocket watch from his black velvet charro jacket and check the time.
Jaw clenched, he gazed at the astonishingly lavish adornment of the altar, glittering with gold carvings and statues of angels. Slowly, inexorably, a different altar superimposed itself over the scene, less decorative, crumbling and shabby, but with a similar cross and crucified Christ. Again he felt the wall behind his back, saw Javier's brown eyes fill with triumph and hatred. In his mind he watched them hold the mallet, felt the jab of the spike against his palm just before the hammer sent it slicing through his flesh.
His fists balled, hard as rocks, enclosing the scars he'd wear for the rest of his life. But at least he was alive, which was more than he could say for Esteban. A familiar pain cut through his heart. He thought of him every day. Esteban was to have been his padrino. They'd laughed about it the night Esteban had made Chase admit he loved Carlisle. He felt a curl of nausea in his stomach, but he thrust his thoughts away as a faint murmur swept like a storm wind through the church.
At the back of the rose-strewn center aisle, between long lines of flaming candelabras, Carlisle stood in the soft glow, all white lace and satin, golden-red hair gleaming like the setting sun. Esteban's angel, he thought bitterly as she began her slow, decorous walk to the altar. S
he moved gracefully, looking almost as if she floated toward him, her eyes on him and nowhere else, her exquisite face solemn and lovely. As quick as a flash flood, and despite all she'd done, a wave of pure, overwhelming pride hit him.
When Carlisle reached him, she stopped, and Chase read the uncertainty in her wide green eyes. She showed her emotions more than she used to. Now he could easily see her hopes, her fears, her hurt, when before, he'd only been able to guess.
Reaching out, he offered her his hand. Then to his shock, she bent and pressed her lips to his scarred palm. Whispers rippled through the guests, and Chase swallowed hard, his heart pounding as he drew her with him to the altar. They knelt together before the priest, and inside, Chase felt torn by conflicts he couldn't come to grips with. He still loved her, God help him. He loved her too much. But he also knew that Esteban's death would always stand between them.
The Mass began. While the padre recited the ancient Latin words, Chase thought about the child forming inside Carlisle's slender body. Would the baby be a boy? Or a daughter who would possess Carlisle's extraordinary beauty? But could anyone, even her own flesh and blood, rival Carlisle's coppery hair and emerald eyes?
The priest's voice droned on and on, and when Chase felt Carlisle sway weakly beside him, he braced her back with his arm. She leaned against him, turning her head slightly toward him. Through the sheer, delicate lace he could see the perfection of her features, and he knew that if he lived to be old and white-haired, he'd never forget the way she looked at that moment.
16
For one brief moment during the ceremony, Carlisle had seen love shining in Chase's eyes. Though the warm look had disappeared quickly, she still held the memory close to her heart as she stood with Chase and his family on the marble dais in the magnificent ballroom of Chapultepec Castle.
Tomas had once brought her there on one of their afternoon drives, and she'd been fascinated by the immense palace built like a crown on the high hill where Montezuma once held his court and bathed in crystal pools fed by high mountain aqueducts. More recently, Austrian Archduke Maximilian and his wife, Carlota, had called themselves emperor and empress, and had opened the castle terraces and gardens for glittering balls honoring their French allies and the Mexicans, like the Perez family, who supported their reign. Now the hundreds of guests filling the candlelit ballroom were the Juaristas whom Maximilian had failed to subdue.
"Do try to pay attention, Carly. We're supposed to act blissful."
When she looked up at Chase, surprised and hurt by his unprovoked sarcasm, he shifted his gaze away from her. She craved another soft look, warm and unguarded. She loved the way he smiled, when his deep dimples framed his mouth. He'd grinned so often when they first met, usually at her expense. Now she'd welcome his teasing and the sight of his eyes glinting with amusement.
She wished they didn't have to stand in line and meet people who looked at her as if she were some exotic butterfly on display. Sadness descended, and her heart weighted her down like a millstone. She stiffened as Chase suddenly put his arm around her waist and drew her close to him. He smiled at her as she'd been dreaming he would, but his eyes weren't warm, so the gentle look didn't matter.
"Querida, allow me to present Senor Ernesto Moreno and his daughter Dona Marta."
Carlisle's gaze darted to the young girl beside the tall, silver-haired man who was dressed impeccably in black. Chase's former betrothed was very pretty, with huge brown eyes and sun-streaked brown hair. She was quite young, only twelve or thirteen, Carlisle guessed, and she noticed at once the way Dona Marta studiously avoided Chase's eyes.
"How do you do, Dona Marta," Carlisle said when Chase presented her, feeling as self-conscious as the other girl looked. She wondered if Dona Marta hated her for marrying Chase in her place, then felt a flood of embarrassed color rise when she realized they might know she was already pregnant.
Dona Marta curtsied gracefully, then moved on to where Tomas stood with his mother.
"I wish you a very happy and prosperous life, Don Chaso," Senor Moreno said, exchanging with Chase the customary abrazo. Then he bowed gallantly to Carlisle. When he passed on to converse with Dona Maria, Carlisle breathed easier, thankful the Morenos were the last guests in the reception line.
"It's customary for us to begin the dancing," Chase told her. His words were short and abrupt now, as if he were angry. When he took her fingers and pressed them to his lips, she knew it was for the benefit of all the people watching them. Carlisle felt she couldn't bear another minute of this tense sham. She wanted to run away, but Chase held her arm firmly.
As the músicos began to play, Chase took her in his arms and began to waltz, slowly, gracefully, elegantly. She'd never danced with him before, and for some reason, it made everything worse. A wedding wasn't supposed to be an awful ordeal strained by cold politeness that made her heart break. Tears formed in her eyes, and she could not stop one from escaping down her cheek.
"Stop crying, Carly," Chase ordered softly, nodding at those watching and applauding.
"I can't help it!" Carlisle wiped at her tear, but a stifled sob escaped her.
Chase swung her to a halt near the open terrace doors, smiling as he signaled the other couples to join the dancing. He led Carlisle outside, where the night was cool and dark, and she dabbed at her tears with the fine linen handkerchief Chase handed her, aware she'd embarrassed him in front of his family and friends.
"Are you all right?" he asked, standing a little apart from her, his voice gentler now.
"I'm sorry. I'm just so tired," she managed to say, sniffing. "I haven't been sleeping well."
"No, I'm sorry. I was inconsiderate. Here, sit down." He drew her to a bench and helped her pull her bulky skirt out of the way. "Would you like a drink or something to eat? You've lost a lot of weight, and Mother says you aren't eating enough to keep a bird alive."
His concern made her want to cry harder, but she refused to dissolve into tears. "No, thank you. I felt strange meeting Dona Marta. You were supposed to marry her. Why would she put herself through the humiliating experience of attending our wedding?"
"Don't worry about Dona Marta. She was relieved to be released from the marriage contract. According to Don Ernesto, she's terrified of me. She'd heard the silly accounts of El Gato Grande, I suppose."
"Wasn't her father angry that the betrothal was broken?"
"It seems little Marta's had a crush on Tomas since they played together as children, so Don Ernesto was eager enough to substitute my brother for me."
"Does Tomas want to marry her?"
"He will accept the arrangement in time."
Neither spoke for a few minutes. At last Carlisle could not bear their estrangement any longer. She wanted him to understand, to forgive her.
"Chase, please, let's talk about Esteban—"
The minute she said the name, Chase stood, interrupting her. "We've been out here too long. If you're feeling better, we should go in. El Presidente has honored us by bringing his family to the wedding. We'll speak with him for a moment, then I'll make our excuses early so you can get some rest."
Carlisle had no choice but to go along, and the instant they entered the ballroom, they were surrounded by well-wishers, who clapped Chase vigorously on the back and kissed Carlisle's hand.
Slowly, Chase made their way around the edge of the dance floor to where the dark, somber-faced President of Mexico sat on a red velvet sofa with his wife. Carlisle was overcome by nervousness, and she hung back as Chase was greeted affectionately.
Benito Juarez stood at once, his calm deep eyes fixed upon Carlisle's face as he extended his hand.
"It is my sincere pleasure to meet you, Senora Lancaster."
Her new name startled her, but she returned his smile. He was not striking in appearance, not when she remembered all the reforms for the people of Mexico that Dona Maria and Tomas had subscribed to him. But somehow she sensed his greatness, and knew that his wide forehead and inscrutable Ind
ian features would long be remembered by the Mexican people.
"I am not a dancer of ability, Dona Carlita. You have only to ask my dear wife, Dona Margarita." He glanced affectionately at the gray-haired woman sitting beside him, who nodded graciously at Carlisle. "But I would be pleased if such a beautiful bride as yourself would grant me one turn about the room."
"I would be honored, El Presidente."
The president led her out onto the floor, and she found she was nearly as tall as he. Though stocky and obviously uncomfortable with dancing, he managed the footwork of the waltz quite well. He was silent, but in an agreeable way, and suddenly Carlisle felt the need to earn his goodwill.
"I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my part in the terrible things that happened at San Miguel. I was foolish to believe the lies I was told about you."
Benito Juarez smiled gravely. "You are now the wife of my most trusted foreign advisor and very good friend. My family and I welcome you to our country."
His words were sincere, and she realized how the man had attained the adoration of his people. She could understand Chase's loyalty and deep respect for his president.
"Gracias," she said as the music came to an end.
Chase had waltzed with Senora Juarez, and after a few more minutes of exchanging pleasantries, he was able to lead Carlisle out of the crowded ballroom. Much laughter and ribald banter concerning their early departure followed them, and suddenly Carlisle began to hope. Finally they'd be alone together again. She'd longed so often to talk to him. She wanted to explain everything, how she felt, how terribly sorry she was for all the pain she'd caused him. Now that they were married, perhaps he'd listen to her.
Chase handed her into the coach, then paused to give instructions to the driver before he followed, settling into the seat opposite her. She frowned slightly, wishing he'd taken a place beside her. She wanted so desperately for him to hold her.
