Golden Paradise (Vincente 1) (15 page)

When Bonita made a move to withdraw the money from the bodice of her gown, Tyree caught her hand. "You keep it," he said with a laugh. "I just wanted the satisfaction of winning against Marquis. It isn't often I can prove him wrong."

Bonita blinked her eyes. She knew Tyree had won, but she had lost. Without being told, she knew Marquis would pursue the dancer. She had observed him while he had watched Jordanna. He had worshiped the woman with his eyes. Bonita had been so deep in thought she had not heard the ensuing conversation between Marquis and Tyree. All she knew was that now Marquis was leading her across the room. He was taking her home. She sensed in her heart that after tonight he might never come lo her again.

Valentina leaned against the door of her dressing room. Her heart was pounding wildly and it had nothing to do with the fact that she had been dancing so fast. She had seen Marquis in the audience with his arm around a woman's shoulder. She had also seen the way he had watched her dance. Had he recognized her? "Please, no!" she cried, sinking down to her knees.

Salamar came to her and helped her to her feet. "What is wrong, little one?"

"Oh, Salamar, Marquis was in the audience tonight. If he ever finds out who I am, he will despise me. I couldn't stand that."

"It is better not to worry about something until it has happened. Turn around so I can help you undress."

Valentina did as she was told. All she could think about was Marquis watching her dance. Perhaps he hadn't guessed her true identity. But wouldn't Tyree Garth put two and two together and realize who she was? If he did, would he tell Marquis?

Sometime later, two lone figures slipped out the back door and down a side street. No one saw Valentina and Salamar go into the small cabin and close the door behind them.

Marquis stood at the window of Bonita's bedroom, looking down on San Francisco. He smiled when Bonita came up behind him and clasped her arms about his waist. "I'm glad you came to town today, Marquis. I have missed you so much."

He turned to her, a frown creasing his brow. "I do not want you sitting here alone waiting for me, Bonita. I do not demand that you be a hermit."

"You once told me you didn't want to share me with anyone, Marquis. I have not been with another man since I became your woman."

Marquis felt trapped. He always hated good-byes. Why did a woman always make parting so difficult? They always wanted to hold on to a man. He smiled at Bonita. She had given him many hours of pleasure; he would let her down gradually. Perhaps, he decided, it would be better to see her a few more times. "You must remember when we first met, Bonita, I told you there was no future for us. You agreed to my terms at that time."

Her arms went around his neck and she pressed her face to his. "I remember," she sobbed. "I will let you go when the time comes."

When Marquis lowered his head to kiss Bonita, he was unmoved by her sigh. He was picturing silver-blue eyes and lips as soft as a rose petal. Suddenly his mind was invaded by thoughts of an uncommonly beautiful body dressed in shimmering red. As Bonita's hands moved through his hair, he recalled the dancer's hips moving enticingly.

12

Percival Lawton was standing at his window watching Valentina. She had dropped down on her knees and was digging in the yard, obviously planting something. Picking up his hat, he clapped it on his head and hurried out the door and down the path to talk to her.

Valentina was deep in thought, planning the dance she would perform that night, and did not hear Reverend Lawton's approach. "Miss Barrett, I want to talk to you right now," he said in a booming voice that almost made her jump out of her skin.

Dropping the spade to the ground, Valentina stood up, trying to rub the dirt from her hands. "I didn't know you had returned, Mr. Lawton. Your sister said you were making the rounds of the gold fields."

A wisp of hair blew across Valentina's cheek and Percival had to resist the urge to reach out and touch it to see if it was as silky as it appeared. Troubled as he was by his confused thoughts about Valentina, he found that his voice had been louder than he had intended. "Just what in the world do you think you are doing, may I ask?"

"I am planting a garden. Your sister said it would be all right if I tended it and shared half of everything with you. There will be corn, peas—"

"I'm not talking about some fool arrangement you made with my sister," he interrupted, dabbing nervously at his face, then poking his handkerchief in his hip pocket. "I am talking about how you came to have money to pay the rent and can live such a frivolous lifestyle. My sister tells me that you have comforts in the cabin that are completely unnecessary."

Valentina was annoyed and Wondered why she always allowed this man to tax her patience. She felt that a man of God should have more understanding and charity in his heart for his fellowmen. Percival Lawton always seemed to be looking at the sordid side of life, never at the good in people. Since houses were hard to come by in San Francisco, Valentina knew she must make an effort to stay on good terms with the reverend and his pious sister. But that did not mean she would allow either one of them to push her around.

"I had not thought that renting a house from you gave you the right to pry into my personal finances. You should only be concerned that I pay my rent on time. As for making the cabin more livable, that was done for my mother's sake. She likes being surrounded by beautiful things. I like being able to make her life a little brighter."

Reverend Lawton cleared his throat and his watery gaze wavered against Valentina's intense stare. "My sister says you are working for Mrs. Windom. I know she doesn't pay you enough to buy frivolities. It's only natural that me and my sister would wonder why you seem to be throwing money around. You will remember that before I was called away, you gave me the impression you couldn't meet your rent."

His eyes shifted and he stared at a tree branch just behind her. "I'm sure you will also recall, out of the goodness of my heart, I offered to make you my wife."

Valentina suddenly felt pity for the man. He could not be happy unless he found the bad in people. He was somehow pathetic and that made her speak to him in a kinder tone of voice. "I was deeply honored by your offer of marriage, Mr. Lawton. It was kind of you to want to marry me when you don't love me, and I don't know you well enough to love you. I know you will understand when I tell you I could never marry a man I don't love."

Before Reverend Lawton could answer, both he and Valentina heard someone coming down the path toward them. Valentina recognized Tyree Garth. She wondered if she dared disappear into the house. Dear Lord, she cried inwardly. I had hoped he wouldn't come. What will I do if he recognizes me? It's too late to flee.

As Tyree neared Valentina, he saw the frightened, questioning look in her eyes. Doffing his hat, he bowed gallantly to her.

Before he could say anything to her, however, Reverend Lawton spoke up. "If you have come to see me to protest the citizen group I'm raising to boycott your wicked establishment, Mr. Garth, you are wasting your time," Reverend Lawton announced, staring down the end of his nose in indignation.

Tyree's laughter stung Percival to the quick, and his face reddened with anger. "This is a free country, Reverend Lawton. You are free to pursue your righteous concerns. However, I think I should point out to you that you will have a devil of a time finding enough people to march with you. Most of them can be found inside the Crystal Palace, buried in what you would call vice and corruption."

Valentina saw the laughter dancing in Tyree's eyes. He was not in the last intimidated by the good reverend. She liked him in spite of the fact that he was a rascal and a rogue. He had been kind to her and had honored her wishes thus far. Looking into his eyes, she tried to decide if he had recognized her. All she saw was the twinkle of good humor. He was a man who never took life too seriously and was not impressed when others did.

"Why have you come then? I'm sure Miss Barrett wants nothing to do with the likes of you." Percival Lawton moved in front of Valentina as if he were the flaming hand of the Lord trying to protect her from degradation.

Tyree chuckled and winked at Valentina. "As a matter of fact, it is Miss Barrett I came to see. I would be deeply grateful if you would make the formal introductions. You see, we have a mutual acquaintance who has asked me to look in on her for him."

Tyree's eyes ran quickly over Valentina. Marquis had been right; she was a lovely angel. It was hard to think of her as the girl who charmed hundreds of men every night on the stage of the Crystal Palace. He had expected her to be beautiful, and he was not disappointed. She was the fairest of the fair. He could see uncertainty in her eyes and knew she was wondering if he suspected who she was. He decided to feign ignorance of her identity for the time being.

"Who would you know who would bean acquaintance of Miss Barrett's?" Percival questioned doubtfully. "She wouldn't associate with you and your kind."

Valentina said nothing for the moment. She knew why Tyree had come. He was here because Marquis had asked him to look in on her.

"I say you are a liar and a scoundrel, sir," Reverend Lawton was saying. "Leave this property at once."

Tyree's eyes hardened for the briefest moment and then danced with mirth. Looking past Percival, he spoke directly to Valentina. "Miss Barrett, I am a friend of Marquis Vincente's, and he's the one who asked me to keep an eye on you. I see you already have a champion in Reverend Lawton. If you will excuse me, I will take my leave and apologize for troubling you."

As he turned to leave, Valentina made a quick decision. How could she stand there and allow Tyree Garth to be treated badly by Reverend Lawton when he had been so kind to her? She could not just let him walk away—he deserved better from her. "Wait, Mr. Garth. If you were nice enough to call on me, the least I can do is offer you a cup of tea. Won't you come into the house and meet my mother?"

"Miss Barrett, what can you be thinking!" Percival declared in shocked surprise. "It's most unseemly for a woman of your breeding to entertain such an unsavory gentleman in your home. Most unseemly indeed."

Tyree laughed in amusement. "Don't get in a lather, Reverend. I am on my way down to the docks and will have to decline the invitation this time. I hope the offer will be extended at a later date, Miss Barrett."

"Indeed it will, sir," she said, caught by his infectious smile.

"I will look forward to it."

"Mr. Garth," Valentina spoke up hurriedly. "Do you know if senor Vincente has found out anything new about my father?"

"Nothing yet. That's why I'm on my way to the docks now. I want to make some inquiries. Let us hope that it won't be too long before we will know something."

Much to Percival's displeasure, Valentina reached out and placed her hand on Tyree's sleeve. "You are most kind, sir. I have met the most wonderful people since coming to California. On behalf of my mother and me, I want to thank you for trying to help locate my father, Mr. Garth. My mother has been ill and is resting at the moment. I know she will extend her gratitude to you on your next visit."

Tyree flashed her a rakish grin. "I have done nothing, so far. But I am looking forward to the next meeting, Miss Barrett." He nodded at the reverend, tipped his hat to Valentina, and strolled leisurely away, while Valentina and Reverend Lawton both stared after him.

"That man is not the kind you should associate yourself with, Miss Barrett. He owns that den of iniquity and shouldn't force his friendship on decent people."

"I saw nothing wrong in his offer of friendship, or his most generous offer to help me find my father."

Jealousy burned in Percival's watery eyes. "Why didn't you ask me to help you find your father instead of going to Marquis Vincente and Tyree Garth?"

"I didn't ask either of them for help—they offered on their own."

"I would have helped you."

"No, you wouldn't have, Mr. Lawton. You tried to convince me that my father was dead." All Valentina wanted to do was escape from this man who seemed to soil everything he came in contact with. Was there nothing, or no one, he approved of? She excused herself and made a hasty retreat.

Later in the evening, as Valentina poured hot water into the teapot and set the cups on a tray, she pondered Tyree Garth's visit. Apparently he hadn't recognized her. But it was only a matter of time before he found out her true identity. If Tyree had accepted her invitation today, he would have seen Salamar, and he would have known she was Jordanna. Somehow she did not mind Tyree finding out who she was—she had the feeling he would understand—but, for some reason, she did not want Marquis to learn she was the dancer at the Crystal Palace. He would never understand ... or forgive.

By now Jordanna's fame had spread the length and breadth of California. Men journeyed for hundreds of miles to see the woman who captured their hearts and imagination. Not one of the rough-hewn miners had ever attempted to touch her; they wanted only to worship her from afar. The usual bags of gold dust were tossed on the stage as a tribute to her; armloads of flowers were delivered to her dressing room.

The newspaper reporter, Julian Mathews, helped add to the legend of Jordanna. He wrote glowing reports of her graceful beauty. He wrote how astonishing it was that no man ever attempted to go backstage to see Jordanna— not that the two guards posted at the entrance would have allowed it had they tried.

Valentina was uneasy because of the publicity she was receiving. She considered quietly slipping away, allowing Jordanna to disappear, just as her mother had when she had left Paris, but not yet. If it turned out that her father was dead, she would need enough money to buy passage back to England for her mother, Salamar, and herself.

Each night Valentina searched the faces in the audience, looking for Marquis. He had yet to disappoint her; he was always there watching her dance. After her fear that he would recognize her diminished, she began to dance for him. The sensuous movements she made were to entice him. She felt no shame as she glided across the stage, knowing he was watching her every move. The irony was that, in her way, she was making love to him.

Now, as Valentina slipped the veil over her face, she hoped Marquis would be present tonight. She felt excitement building up deep inside. Tonight she would dance her best. She would dance for Marquis Vincente alone.

Marquis watched the curtains expectantly, waiting for them to open. He, like all the other men in the audience, had come to see Jordanna dance. He was hopelessly caught by her spell; she kept pulling at him, bringing him back each night. Marquis had the feeling that she was dancing for him alone. He could not see her eyes, but he knew she was watching him. Tonight he would ask to meet her in person. He had not believed Tyree when he had said she did not mix with the male customers. She would not be flaunting her charms before the men if she did not like what she was doing. Jordanna's exotic movements suggested she was trying to entice rather than entertain.

Marquis's dark eyes blazed. She had been born for a man to make love to. Marquis intended to be that man— or perhaps he would be just one of many. Most probably Tyree had already had the woman in his bed.

At that moment the music began and the curtains slowly parted. The haunting melody grew louder as a soft light centered on a woman draped from head to foot in shimmering gold material. As Valentina rose to her feet, the golden fabric fell away and the audience gasped in awe. She wore golden-colored harem pants with just a hint of skin showing through. Across her face and covering her hair was a golden net with tiny bells attached so that each movement she made brought the most delightful tinkling sound.

The men were dazed by her beauty. When she reached to pick up a sword from the floor, they waited, scarcely breathing, to see what new, exciting dance she would perform for them this night.

Marquis felt his heart thunder against his chest, keeping time with the music. Faster and faster the tempo rose as the woman swung the sword over her head. Leaping into the air, her face hidden behind her veils of secrecy, she slashed the air with the blade. Grasping the sword in both hands, she raised it over her head, then, to everyone's amazement, threw it across the stage where it landed point first in a block of wood, hitting a bull's-eye. Softly the music drifted around the room, lending its beauty to Valentina's performance. She was so talented, she pulled every emotion from her audience. She amused, titillated; she made them feel sorrow, anger, passion. She drew all her strength from her audience, leaving them drained and completely under her spell.