Amelia (30 page)

He rode forward, beside her, and one lean hand reached out to clasp hers where it lay on the pommel.

"This marriage might not have been my idea originally," he said. "But I want you to know that I have no misgivings about it now."

He meant because of his sense of responsibility for what had happened, she knew. She forced a wan smile to her face. "Nor have I," she said.

"What is wrong?"

"It is only that you had no choice," she blurted out, and the eyes that lifted to his were turbulent.

"I had every choice," he said firmly. "Amelia… it is not seemly to speak of such things, perhaps, but did you not realize that I deliberately allowed it to go too far when we were together? It would have been possible for me to stop in time. I chose not to."

She flushed. "Because you wanted to stop me from seeing Alan," she agreed.

"No!" His hand on hers tightened. "Because I wanted you for myself, Amelia, on any terms I could get you. I was jealous of Alan, don't you see?"

Her eyes softened, darkened. "Jealous of me?"

He nodded. "What sane man would not be jealous of a woman who melted in his arms, yearned for his kisses, made him feel invincible when he was with her?"

She wanted to deny all that, but she couldn't. It was just as he said, she had no willpower when she was with him.

"I must have been very obvious," she murmured.

"Only when it was too late," he mused, smiling gently at her confusion. "What other motive could you have had for surrendering to me? You are neither mercenary nor casual in your morals. That being the case, it was not difficult to understand your feelings." The smile faded. "Forgive me for shaming you. I still find my own behavior inexplicable and disturbing."

She was embarrassed. She felt stripped of all her emotional armor. She fingered the reins too tightly, making the horse jump.

He reared and all but unseated her. King, alarmed, jumped down from his own mount and quickly controlled Amelia's with cold nerve. He threw his knee into the horse's chest and very nearly brought him down. Then, when the animal was stunned, he began to calm him, talking softly, soothing it with his hands.

Amelia shivered with reaction when her mount was standing calm again. King helped her down; he'd been so confident, so expert at handling the animal that she was shocked to find his face very pale, and a faint tremor in the hands that held her.

"You are all right?" he asked quickly.

His concern was almost her undoing. She managed a nervous laugh. "Yes. I'm sorry. It… it was my fault, I tugged too hard on the reins. The poor creature, I must have bruised his mouth."

"He could have thrown you!"

She was awed by the expression on his face, the barely contained fury in his eyes. Fascinated, she reached up and laid her hand against his cheek. "I'm all right," she said softly. "Truly, King."

He was quieting, but slowly. She could still feel the tension in him, the strength and temper barely held in check.

"You're certain?" he asked.

She smiled, nodding. "I wasn't frightened. You're very good with animals, you know. I never doubted that you'd quiet him."

He was breathing roughly. It had occurred to him somewhere in that brief struggle that Amelia could have been badly hurt. His reaction was no different than it had been when he'd seen her lying on the floor in her father's house. It shattered him to realize how much it had frightened him. He… cared.

She looked into his eyes and felt her heart run wild at the emotion that filled them. For that moment, he was incapable of hiding from her what he felt. It was all there, open in his face, naked to her gaze. The joy of it made her radiant, choked her.

"Oh, King, did it matter so much that I might be hurt?" she whispered brokenly.

With a harsh groan, he stepped forward, wrapping her up in warm, strong arms. "Amelia," he whispered roughly, and found her mouth with his own.

Long, lazy minutes slid by while they clung together in the shade of a mesquite tree while the horses grazed nearby. But eventually, as the heat of their passion began straining at the bonds they placed on it, King was forced to draw back.

"This must stop," he said unsteadily. He framed her face in his lean hands and sketched it with quick, loving eyes, from her radiant cheeks to her swollen soft mouth. "We must not anticipate our vows a second time. But Sunday will not come soon enough for me."

"Or for me," she whispered. She lay her head against the heavy rise and fall of his chest and stood there until they both calmed. Across his shirt she could see the horizon, and she thought with a shock of happiness that she had a new future to look forward to now, one that was free from the terror of the past.

"I will let nothing hurt you ever again," he said huskily, brushing his lips over her forehead. "There will be no more pain."

"No more." She nuzzled her face against his chest, feeling the springy chest hair under the soft shirt. She smiled. "This time it will be very different, will it not? When we are… together, I mean."

His chest stilled under her ear and then began to rise and fall more quickly. "Very different, indeed," he whispered. "Because this time there will be tenderness and all the time in the world." His mouth traveled down her face and found, tenderly, her soft mouth. "Alan and my parents plan to leave after the wedding to see friends in Houston over the weekend. We will be alone for several days." He kissed her again, groaning faintly. "Amelia, how can I bear these next three days?" he moaned against her welcoming mouth.

"The time will pass very quickly," she whispered. "Very, very quickly."

"For the sake of my self-control and your virtue, I hope that is the case." He chuckled.

 

Quinn had ridden back to Malasuerte, feeling like a dog as he mentally prepared to betray Maria and her father. He had to keep reminding himself that he'd taken an oath to uphold the law and Rodriguez had broken it. In the long run, that was the only thing that mattered. His duty didn't allow for a bleeding heart. Rodriguez's people were poor, certainly, but that didn't excuse the use of murder and thievery to feed and clothe them. He had to forget what the bandit chief had done for Maria and Juliano and concentrate on the deaths, including that of King's fiancée, that had been done by Rodriguez's hands.

But all the philosophizing didn't do his conscience any good as he rode across the dry wash and into the small pueblo. Things got worse when Maria spotted him and dropped the corn she was carrying in the dirt to run to him as if her life depended on reaching him.

The sight of her made him realize how alone and miserable he'd been since he left the pueblo. He was out of the saddle in a flash, just in time to meet her wild onrush. He lifted her clear off the ground and found her mouth with his, all in the same smooth motion. And for long, sweet minutes, she was his alone, she belonged to him totally.

Dimly, he was aware of the buzz of conversation and muted laughter. He lifted his head at last, to find the two of them half surrounded by the inhabitants of the small pueblo. Rodriguez was there, too, all smiles.

Quinn felt like a traitor. He wasn't going to be able to live with himself once he did this. Duty or not, he was always going to feel as if he'd betrayed everyone who loved him. With his father dead and King hell-bent on marrying Amelia, Maria was really the only person left who did love him, he thought miserably. But she wouldn't for long. When she found out why he'd come here, she was going to want to kill him.

It wouldn't hurt, surely, he told himself, to spend just a day or two in camp first. To spend time with Maria and catch what little happiness he could to last him for the rest of his miserable life.

"You have returned," Rodriguez said glowingly, offering his hand to be shaken and then hugging the younger man warmly. "My son, you are welcome among us. My poor Maria has been like the dead since your departure! It is good that you have come back to make her heart sing again!"

"My own heart didn't do much singing," he confessed, his eyes meeting Maria's with pure aching hunger. "My father has died," he said without meaning to.

"Oh, my dear." Maria went close to him and hugged him, giving him comfort and strength. "I am so sorry."

Quinn's arms slowly enfolded her. His heart ached clean through from this sweet comfort.

"
Lo siento, también
," Rodriguez seconded. "It is never pleasant to lose a father. My own, he was a
haciendado
, you know," he added with a smile. "He was one of the Spanish grandees, but he married a mestiza woman, and eventually he lost everything he had because he drank too much." He spread his hands as if it didn't matter one bit. "Too much money is the ruin of a good man,
es verdad, señor
? Better to live like the birds, with the open sky and land for a home.
Ay de mi
, there is nothing more precious than freedom!" He eyed Quinn's closed face, and then Maria's. "Well, perhaps love is as important." He chuckled.

Quinn nodded. The dark eyes that looked down into Maria's blue ones were deeply troubled.

"You have come back to us with grief and some worrying problem to work out,
señor
," Rodriguez said unexpectedly, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. "
Bueno
. You will stay with us, and these things will no longer make you look like a haunted man. Lopita, bring mescal and let us cheer up this weary traveler!"

Lopita, a heavyset, short woman with twinkling eyes and few teeth, grinned and produced a jug of mescal. Rodriguez took it, giving her a loud kiss on the cheek.

"She is my wife," he told Quinn. "And she may not be much to look at,
señor
, but she has a kind heart, and she makes the best enchiladas in the pueblo!"

"She has been
mamacita
to Juliano and to me," Maria added, grinning at Lopita as she scurried around the hut. "She is a good woman." Maria watched Quinn sit down near the small fire. "Your mother is not alive?"

He shook his head. "She died some years ago."

"Your father, was he killed?"

"No. He had a tumor in his brain."

Maria crossed herself. "
Que horrible para tu
," she said softly. "
Lo siento
."

"It was much worse for my sister. He was… rather cruel to her at the end. It wasn't his fault, you know," he added, feeling the need to defend his father even now. "He didn't know what he was doing."

"This tumor, it is a disease?" Rodriguez queried.

"It is a growth inside the head," Quinn told him.

"Ah.
Yo sé
. A growth. Very painful, no?"

"Very." Quinn took the mescal Rodriguez poured for him with a nod of thanks. He tasted it and found the hard bite of the liquor helped to ease his grief and shame.

"This sister, Amelia, is she like you?"

He smiled. "We could be twins. I'm much taller, of course. She is a courageous lady, but she, like your Lopita, has a kind heart."

"Something which is worth rubies, I tell you,
señor
," Rodriguez said fervently. "It is good that you have come back," he added after a minute, and he looked thoughtful and worried. "I have a problem of my own which you might be able to help me solve."

"If I can," Quinn agreed.

Rodriguez stared at the mescal jug. "I am a hunted man,
señor
. The authorities in Texas want very much to lure me across the border and hang me. And now I hear that they are sending the Texas Rangers to look for me again." He looked up, surprising a strange look in Quinn's eyes. "I am not the man I was. I have not the wiles that kept me one step ahead. There is also my family and my people to consider." He took a slow breath. "I have been thinking that perhaps I should surrender myself, for the sake of my people."

"Papa, no!" Maria cried, anguished. She threw herself at Rodriguez, crying. "You must not, you
must
not, they would kill you! Oh, Papa, do not say such things!"

Rodriguez sighed heavily, patting the hysterical girl on the back. "Yes, I know, you love me. I love you, too,
niña
. But there is the danger that the Texas Rangers might come here. I heard rumors of this in El Paso. If this happens, many innocent people might die. These Rangers fight like demons out of hell, we know this. I do not want my people to suffer. It is better that I give myself up, rather than risk other lives."

Quinn was poleaxed. He didn't know what to say. Obviously, some people in El Paso had heard about his assignment to bring in Rodriguez and had embroidered it, as gossip did. But for once gossip might have aided him. Rodriguez was playing right into his hands. He could hardly believe his good fortune.

"What do you want of me,
señor
?" Quinn asked slowly.

"That you accompany me into Texas,
señor
, to hand myself over to the authorities in El Paso," Rodriguez said wearily. "My chances will be better of reaching them alive if I have a gringo companion."

"That is true," Quinn had to admit.

"Then… you will accompany me?"

Quinn hesitated, guilt-ridden, but Maria prodded him. "Please," she said softly. "Please, you must."

"Very well," he said reluctantly. "When do you want to go?"

"Tomorrow," Rodriguez said. "That will give me one last night at home to be with my family." He looked at Quinn levelly. "These charges that the Americanos have raised against me are not true,
señor
," he added surprisingly. "I have killed no gringos. I have robbed a bank or two,
sí
. But these crimes, these butcheries, of which they accuse me are false charges. I want to stand trial, to deny them. I am no butcher. I wish to be done with the past. I wish to start my life again, to…
como se dice
… turn the new leaf." He grinned at Quinn, "I wish to become a new man. So, you shall help me, no?"

Quinn was stunned and speechless. "Is this not rather sudden?"

"
Señor
, shall we be earnest? I am an old man. Inevitably the gringos will catch me, and I will be hanged. I do not wish this to happen before I have the chance to tell my story, to deny that I have cut up young women or killed in cold blood. I do not wish my children and my grandchildren to think that I was such a bad man, you understand?"