Treasure of the Sun

by Christina Dodd

  Unable to help herself, she laughed, too. He spun slower, brought her closer. Her blows weakened, her smile wavered. He brought her against his body, and she slid down until her toes touched the grass. Her head was still in the clouds, she knew, for the look in his eyes made her forget their surroundings and meet him halfway for a burning kiss.

  “Katherine?”

  The sound of her own name made her pull herself, slowly and painfully, from Damian’s heaven.

  “Katherine Chamberlain?” A spare man of medium height stepped from the shadow of the armory walls and walked hesitantly towards them.

  Puzzled, she leaned back against Damian’s arms and looked at the gentleman. She looked again, her attention fixed.

  The ocean breeze threatened the safety of the man’s tall hat, and he held his hand atop it. The strained buttons on his mustard vest showed more of the green and gold cravat than fashion called for. The wind caused his bilious green knee-length coat to beat around his legs. His trousers, gold and black striped, fit tight at the waist and billowed like a ship’s sails at his ankles.

  His boots were black. Katherine’s eyes lingered there, resting from the assault of color that elsewhere decorated the young man. When she thought she could, she lifted her gaze and smiled with polite restraint. “Cousin.” Damian tensed in her arms. “What a surprise to see you.”

  Looking as if he’d bitten into a worm, the man she called cousin answered, “Obviously.”

  That nasty sneer brought Damian’s fists up. If the hidalgo hadn’t been restrained by Katherine’s grasp, the little peacock would have been picking his teeth off the ground. The man she called “cousin” knew it, too, by the simper he gave. The gentleman swept his top hat off to reveal a stiff wave of hair just on the top of his head; he bowed with a sweep. “Lawrence Cyril Chamberlain,” he said. “At your service.”

  Damian nodded with cool courtesy. “Damian de la Sola.” Words of courtesy stuck in his throat, but he managed, “Mucho gusto.”

  “What did he say, Katherine?”

  The way he whined made Damian grind his teeth. Katherine knew it. He could see the slightest hint of a smile as she answered with fulsome untruth, “He says he’s very glad to meet you.”

  “Doesn’t he speak English?” In his desire for this to be the case, the dandy crushed the upturned brim of his hat.

  “He speaks English very well, Lawrence,” she informed him.

  Lawrence chewed that over, his long, thin face growing longer as he considered. “I know this is California and uncivilized, yet I must ask—why is he hugging you?”

  “Because I want to,” Damian answered.

  Lawrence jumped; clearly, he hadn’t accepted Damian’s ability to speak English. Lawrence spoke again to Katherine while keeping a wary eye on the Spanish character. “Katherine, where’s Tobias? You told us you came out here to marry Tobias. Were you lying to us about Tobias?”

  Damian watched the young man’s reaction as she answered, “Tobias has died.”

  Joy lit Lawrence’s face. He clapped his hands in one hearty smack. “He did? You mean you did marry him?”

  “I did,” she agreed.

  “He’s left you a widow already?” The glee in his tone was disgraceful.

  “He did,” she said impassively.

  “Oh, Mother Mary McRee!” Hugging himself, he chuckled. “Wait until I tell Father! We Chamberlains knew you’d come to no good in this wilderness, but we didn’t know how soon.” He cocked his head. “How long ago was it?”

  “He died almost a year ago.”

  Horror blossomed on Lawrence’s face. Gaping, he said, “You’ve been living out here alone, destitute, without a family? How have you supported yourself?” Inevitably, the worst implications of the scene before him took hold. His eyes widened; then he averted his gaze in a parody of modesty.

  Damian glared at the man, and as he watched, the wind caught the edge of Lawrence’s hair and lifted it from a bare spot on the back of his head.

  This man—much younger than Damian, surely younger than Katherine—this man wore a hairpiece that accented his absurdity. The hair that swept his collar was a different red than the red above. Damian supposed that Lawrence grew his lengthy whiskers to his cravat as compensation.

  “If you would excuse us,” Lawrence said in loud, hostile tones. “My cousin and I wish to speak alone.”

  “I think not,” Damian answered with brisk authority.

  Lawrence looked confused by the reply. His conclusions didn’t include anything but the lowest expectations. He stared at Damian for several minutes before his mind made that next logical connection. Pointing a finger at first one, then the other, he sputtered, “You’re her . . . her . . .”

  Damian acquiesced, “I am.”

  Stepping forward, Lawrence tucked his thumb and forefingers in the pockets of his vest. “That may be who you are, but I am Lawrence Cyril Chamberlain, second son of the Chamberlain household. As such, I am my family’s representative in California and I say you are dismissed from your position of protector.”

  The faint amusement Damian had felt vanished with the use of that expression. “I take care of Katherine,” he said with a heavy sarcasm, but it flew right over Lawrence’s head as Katherine flinched.

  “Let me spell it out, my good man.” Lawrence sniffed. “Your services are no longer needed.”

  Control failed. Grabbing the collar of the fine green coat, Damian lifted the dandy to his toes. “Let me spell it out. I stand beside Katherine.” He held the young man there, nose to nose, until Lawrence wilted inside his clothes. Letting him go, Damian dusted his fingers under Lawrence’s nose, adding, “My good man.”

  “Very well.” Lawrence straightened his vest. “We need to negotiate. Is there a place where we can have privacy?” He swept his gaze around the town in disdain, but his dignity was blemished as he pulled his top hat lower. The brim rested on his large, freckled ears.

  “It shouldn’t blow off now,” Damian commented. Lawrence looked at him sharply, and Damian gestured towards the alcalde’s home. “That would be the best place for us to, er, negotiate.”

  He put his hand under Katherine’s arm and led her back to the place they’d just left, the place where they’d been married. Lawrence stalked along beside them, but well off to the side, as if contact would contaminate him.

  “Where did you come from, Lawrence?” Katherine asked.

  “From that ship.” He pointed toward the harbor and she turned to look. The top of the mast was visible beyond the presidio, beside the mast of the vessel she would have taken back to Los Angeles.

  That vessel was moving out to sea with leisurely majesty.

  Her sharp pinch on Damian’s arm made him yelp, and she said with keen curiosity, “When did you find time to send a message to the captain to leave?”

  There wasn’t a good answer, Damian knew. Not one thing he said would appease her pique, so he shrugged and told the truth. “I told Señora Zollman that the captain could set forth at his will.”

  She stuck out her chin. “The next ship I try to board will be captained by a man not influenced by bribes.”

  “The next ship you try to board—” Damian began. Lawrence’s smirk stopped him. Airing their disagreements before Lawrence destroyed the appearance of a unified front, and he could see by Katherine’s pained look she knew it, too. He tapped at the alcalde’s door and entered on the welcoming call.

  The alcalde and his wife looked up in astonishment to see the newlyweds returning.

  “If you’ve come for an annulment, I must tell you it’s too soon,” Alcalde Diaz joked in Spanish.

  “Not an annulment, Alcalde,” Damian said, also in Spanish. “Permission for a murder. This is one of my wife’s relatives, and a troublemaker to boot.”

  They laughed, and Señora Diaz asked, “Have all Doña Katherine’s relatives come to live with you?”

  “Not yet.” Damian sighed in mock relief.

  Alcalde Diaz agre
ed, “Ah, yes, at least the rest of your in-laws are far away. You could be blessed with a large family of—”

  His wife raised a hand to him.

  “—lovely in-laws. My dear, what did you think I would say?” His wife scolded and Katherine held the door of the parlor, still decorated with the flowers of her wedding. Her offended cousin, who suspected they were all laughing at him, stalked ahead of her.

  “I don’t know why these people can’t speak English,” he fussed.

  “Because they’re in Mexican territory?” Katherine suggested. “Because they were raised speaking Spanish? Perhaps you’ll learn some of the language while you’re here.”

  “Oh, please.” He lifted a bilious green pocket handkerchief to his nose. “It’s easy for you. You always spoke all those queer foreign languages anyway. I had trouble learning enough Latin to pass my law courses. I hope I won’t be here long.”

  “Did you plan to sail back on the ship you came in on?” she queried, seating herself on one of the fragile parlor chairs.

  “We can sail on it.” He kept one eye on Damian, who had taken up a station beside the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

  She waved Lawrence into another chair just beside a delicate pedestal graced by a Grecian vase. “Why would I want to return to Boston?”

  “Why would you want to return to Boston?” Lawrence’s voice rose as he repeated the question, making it sound like the most ludicrous one he’d ever heard. “Why would you want to stay here? This is the outpost of nowhere.” He twitched a glance at her protector, but Damian refused to show expression. Lawrence spoke rapidly, hoping to confuse their impassive guard. “There’s no learning here, no beauty, no civilization. It’s filled with foreigners who babble rudely in some language no normal person could understand. They tell me this burg is the capital, and there aren’t even paved streets. There aren’t even streets. There probably aren’t even lawyers.”

  This seemed the worst offence, yet Katherine dropped her head and chuckled.

  “Oh, Katherine.” Lawrence leaned forward and caught her hands. “Have you lost all sense of justice? Don’t you see that if there were lawyers in this godforsaken hamlet, that hooligan over there would never have dared to lay hands on me? On me —Lawrence Cyril Chamberlain.”

  “I’ve never lost my sense of justice, Lawrence.” She wrested her hands free. “But what the law has to do with justice, I have yet to understand.” While Lawrence digested that, she asked, “Why have you come? It’s a long sea voyage to undertake, and when I left Boston Uncle Rutherford and Aunt Narcissa made it clear I was never to return. Why are you here?”

  “Ah. Well. That.” Lawrence sat up straight, rearranged his cuffs, and recited in rapid detail. “‘The Chamberlain family cannot ignore their Christian duty, regardless of the ingratitude and deception that Katherine has visited on us. Katherine is, after all, the daughter of Father’s only brother, and our ward. The Chamberlain family knows that she’s undoubtedly run into trouble.’ And you have, haven’t you?” He beamed at her as if she’d fulfilled a marvelous prophesy, then switched back to his garbled accusations. “‘Katherine can no longer ignore the debt she owes us, and she’ll return gratefully to live in our home for the rest of her days.’ There!” He relaxed against the back support, put his elbows on the arms of the chair, and steepled his fingers.

  Unimpressed, Katherine applauded.” A job well done, Lawrence. Who told you to say all that?”

  “It was Mother, of course.” He beamed at her. “She always had a way with words, even better than Father, I sometimes think.”

  “Oh, she did,” Katherine agreed. “I’ll never forget her way with words.” Standing, she brushed her skirt. “You’ve said your piece now. Will you return to the ship?”

  Leaping to his feet, relieved to find his mission so easily accomplished, Lawrence asked, “You’ll gather your things, then, and come at once?”

  “Not at all. I have no intention of returning with you, but if you like, I’ll write a note to my uncle and aunt informing them that their little boy did his duty.”

  Damian stood at the ready, sure that her insolence would make Lawrence erupt into physical violence. But she knew her cousin. He huffed like a steam engine and took a turn around his chair. He came to stand in front of her, but watched Damian. “Cousin, cousin. You don’t understand. You’re forgiven. We’ll welcome you back into the bosom of our family, just like before.”

  Evidently something—the expression on her face, his own memory—made him add, “Better than before. We—my sisters and brothers—discussed this. We’re older now. We won’t all beat you. We’ll let you have your own room, on the same floor as my sisters. We’re saving you a room. You won’t have to stay in that hot little closet. Mother’s anxious for you to return, so she had some new clothes made up for you.” Uncertain, his gaze swept the jewel-colored dress Damian had presented as a wedding present. “Father’s complaining that there’s no one who borrows his books anymore. Can you believe he’s actually complaining about that?” He rushed on before she could answer. “We’ve got enough servants now. You won’t have to help in the kitchen.”

  “Do you have enough law clerks, so I don’t have to help in the law offices any more?” she asked with asperity.

  He shifted uncomfortably. “Of course you don’t have to help in the law offices. But you always liked that. Remember? You always found the precedents faster than I could, recited the laws better than I could, and worked up the cases better than I could. You’d want to help in the law offices.” He glanced at her incredulous smile and gulped. “Wouldn’t you?”

  “Never. I will never bilk another immigrant out of another hard-earned penny as long as I live. I have nightmares about the ones I’ve already ruined.”

  “Oh, that’s just your father talking,” he scoffed.

  Pleasure brought a light to her face. “I hope so. Lawrence, this has been a valiant effort on your part, but I’m afraid it’s useless. Here I am. Here I remain.”

  He shifted from one foot to the other. “All right. I didn’t want to do it, but let’s speak plainly. You have no way to support yourself. As the head of the Chamberlain family in California, I must insist that you break off the liaison with this—” he jerked his head towards Damian “—this Mexican.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

  “Not possible? What you’re doing is an abomination to God and man. In polite society, you’d be scorned. Stoned! You’d be stoned.” He lifted one finger into the air like a statue of righteousness. “What will happen when your looks fade? Mother always said you had a cheap kind of beauty, but she also said that blonds age early. Soon this man will drive you from his home and you’ll be cast out, bearing a child, no doubt.”

  “Lawrence.” She laid her hand on his upraised arm. “We’re married.”

  Freezing in midflight, he stared at her with distaste. “That’s impossible.”

  She waited for the truth to take hold.

  “You can’t be married. You haven’t been widowed for a whole year.”

  She nodded at him. “I am married.”

  “You can’t be married. What will the family say?”

  “That’s certainly a consideration.”

  “Exactly.” Noticing her faint air of amusement, he chuckled nervously. “You’re joking.”

  “Not at all. I am married.”

  “To him?” Pointing, he indicated Damian. Lawrence scrambled for a foothold in the shifting situation. “Well, you can’t have been married for long. Could you?”

  “We were married this morning,” she informed him.

  A vast relief made him drop back into his chair. “There’s no problem, then. We’ll just get it annulled.”

  Damian’s eyes met Katherine’s, and the memory of the alcalde’s warning brought simultaneous bursts of laughter.

  “Well! Well,” Lawrence sputtered.

  Katherine laid a calming hand on his knee. “I’m sorry, cousin, but
you can’t understand.”

  “I understand you’ve had no wedding night,” he said indignantly. Her hand fell away from his leg. He insisted, “Have you?”

  Damian was disgusted to see Katherine drop her head and blush.

  Lawrence leaped up, more upset than he’d ever been by her supposed prostitution. “Oh, that’s wonderful. That makes it almost impossible to annul this marriage.”

  Deciding it was time to step in, Damian said, “Nobody’s going to annul my marriage.”

  “It wasn’t approved by Father. Isn’t there any respect for familial duty here?” Lawrence asked.

  Too much, Damian thought. If this stuffy twerp didn’t return to Boston on the next ship, the laws of Californio hospitality stood firmly on his side. As a relative, Lawrence could live at the de la Sola home forever, if he desired. Damian pledged, “I will take care of your cousin to the best of my ability, always.”

  “Oh, that’s it.” Red-faced, his freckles stood out. “You’ve found out how rich the Chamberlain family is. You’re going to ask for money. You’re nothing but an adventurer.”

  Relaxing back against the door, Damian struggled with a grin that infuriated Lawrence.

  Katherine didn’t take the insult to the de la Solas with such blasé detachment. “Lawrence, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, don’t I?” Lawrence waggled his finger before her face. “This man’s an adventurer. Why else would he want you?”

  No longer amused, Damian stepped away from the door. “Watch what you say to my wife.”

  Caught in a full flight of fancy, Lawrence hadn’t the sense to be worried. “I wouldn’t be surprised, cousin, if you didn’t plan this. A chance to benefit from your connection with the Chamberlain family. You would drag this . . . this parvenu back to Boston with you and blackmail us into keeping him a secret.”

  “Lawrence, you’re treading on thin ice.” Katherine clenched her fist. Her scowl would have had Mr. Smith stroking his Adam’s apple.

  “It’s true, then,” Lawrence complained. “Every dire thing that Mother ever predicted about you has come true. You’ve married a worthless ne’er-do-well, and look.” He pointed to the scarf she’d tied around her throat. “He’s already tried to strangle you. Despite Mother’s best efforts to nurture you, you’ve sunk to the depths of your parents.”