Golden Paradise (Vincente 1) (29 page)

"I can deal with whatever Fate throws at me," Marquis stated with an assurance he was far from feeling. "What I cannot deal with is lying here doing nothing."

Neither of them heard the soft footsteps outside the tent. Tyree smiled when he heard Valentina call out in a small voice. "Marquis, may I enter?"

"Here's your chance to test Fate," Tyree stated, rising to his full height and moving across the tent. "I'll let her in on my way out." Giving Marquis a quick smile, he added. "Good luck, my friend. I sincerely hope she'll have you."

As Tyree swept out of the tent, he greeted Valentina with a long, searching look. "You don't look any worse from your ordeal. Are you feeling well?"

"Yes, thank you. Salamar tells me I have you to thank for the rescue. I stand in your debt once again."

He shrugged off her gratitude and nodded toward the tent. "You had better go in. He's chomping at the bit to see you."

Valentina lowered her voice so it would not reach the inside of the tent. "How is he, Tyree?"

"Mending. We still don't know about his legs. Even though he tries to hide it, I believe they give him a great deal of pain." Pulling the tent flap aside, he smiled. "Go in. He's waiting for you."

Valentina gathered up her courage and raised her head, feeling as if she were Daniel walking into the lion's den. The heat in the tent was oppressive, but it was the heat of Marquis's glance that sent shivers down Valentina's spine. His eyes were so intense she had to lower hers.

"Do you know I have waited all day for you?" he stated sourly.

She seated herself on the stool Tyree had just vacated.

"How are you feeling? Do your legs pain you much?" she asked, concern written all over her beautiful face. He was dressed in dark blue, tight-fitting trousers, the legs of which had been slit to accommodate the splint and bandages. She wanted to reach out and soothe away the pain she saw on his face.

"Do you recall that I asked you to marry me while we were trapped in the mine?" Marquis had gotten right to the point. He was impatient and in no mood to play games. She was unaware of the yearning that caused Marquis's heart to beat wildly. She did not see the fear, the uncertainty, in his dark eyes.

Valentina managed to smile tightly. "I will not hold you to any proposal I extracted from you under duress."

He waved her stab at humor aside. "I am waiting for your answer." His voice was clipped and he sounded as if he had just issued a command.

"I told you I won't hold you to—"

"Your answer," he demanded as his eyes collided with hers. "What is your answer?"

Valentina could not know that his insides were drawn up into a tight knot as he tensely waited for her to reply. Fear gnawed at his insides, for he believed she might laugh at his offer of marriage. He had spoken brave words to Tyree when he had said he would never take Valentina's no for an answer. He realized with a sinking heart that if she refused him there would be no way he could force her to reconsider.

Valentina dropped her eyes from his probing gaze. "Tell me the reason you are doing this. Are you just being kind?" She waited for his answer, hoping against hope that he would say he loved her. She wanted to hear him say his life would not be complete without her. If he said he loved her, she would tell him about his baby.

Marquis was thoughtful for a moment as he pondered how to answer Valentina. To confess his love would leave him open to hurt and rejection. He already knew she loved another man. He was nothing if not a prideful man, and so he said instead, "I have been thinking for some months now—actually since the Americans took over California—that the time may come when the gringos might not honor the land grant handed down to my family by a Spanish king many years ago. I believe if I were to marry into your race, Paraiso del Norte would be safe for the generations to come."

Valentina felt her hopes dashed into nothingness. Proudly holding her head high, she replied, "I cannot help you in this. You would do well to look elsewhere for the salvation of Paraiso del Norte. As you very well know, I am not American—I'm English."

He watched her face closely. "It amounts to the same thing. You are of the same race. Marry me and we will both gain from the endeavor. I will gain assurance that my land will be in my family for future generations; you will have a name for your baby."

Valentina met his eyes, trying to make some sense out of what he was saying. "You have a poor reason for wanting me as your wife, Marquis. I do not believe that you fear the Americans will eventually take your land. What is the real reason you want me to marry you?"

He hesitated, wondering if he should confess his feelings for her. Never one to speak rashly, he weighed his words carefully. "I would be less than honest with you if I did not admit to being drawn to you. You have known for some time that I have feelings for you. I admitted as much while we were trapped in the mine. I find the thought of having a beautiful, silver-eyed wife very appealing. I believe I would like to awaken each day and find you seated across the breakfast table from me."

Valentina blushed, remembering Marquis's bold caresses while they had been trapped in the cave. The look  he gave  her  proved  he was remembering too. Quickly she looked away from him. "What about my baby?" she asked boldly.

His eyes never wavered. "The child will have my name. But there is one point I must stress to you, so there will be no misunderstanding later. Should you bear a son, he could never inherit Paraiso del Norte."

"What do you mean?" she asked, feeling an ache deep inside.

"Only a son that is fathered by me will inherit my land. I want this understood right now."

Valentina remembered Salamar's telling her that she would have a daughter. She wondered what Marquis's reaction would be if she were to tell him he had fathered her baby. He had admitted that he was drawn to her, but was that the true reason he wanted to marry her? So many questions nagged at her, and she needed some answers.

"Will you marry me, Valentina?" he asked softly.

"I . . . don't understand why you would want me and my baby. The only reasons you have given me, thus far, are not very convincing."

Marquis frowned slightly, wondering how he could persuade Valentina to marry him without revealing his love for her. "Let us say that my planned marriage to Isabel ended abruptly, leaving me with no suitable bride. My grandfather is getting no younger and would see me married. You will grace my table and make an admirable wife to show off to my friends and neighbors."

Valentina felt the sting of his words like the twisting of a knife in her heart. Had he been in love with Isabel, and had she refused to marry him? Was he asking her to marry him so he could save face before his friends?

Pushing her hurt aside, she asked the most obvious question. "Have you thought how your friends will react when I deliver a child two months earlier than the accepted nine-month period?"

"That will be no problem. My doctor is a good friend. He will swear the baby was born prematurely. Even if some friends do not believe the lie, they will only think I loved you so much I could not wait to be married to you before I bedded you."

Suddenly the truth hit Valentina full force. She wondered why it had taken her so long to see it. "You want everyone to think that you and I . . . that we . . . that this baby is yours, and it was conceived before we were married. You were shamed when Isabel refused to marry you, and you want everyone to think that you were already . . . that you—"

"That I was in love with you all along," he finished for her. "Yes, that would save face, would it not?" His eyes sparkled as he smiled at her. "What do you say? Do we seal a bargain that will be beneficial to us both?"

Valentina tried to think of a hundred reasons to say no. Point by point, arguments against marrying Marquis started clicking off in Valentina's mind. He would probably trample on her heart, for she loved him so much and he did not love her at all. They came from different worlds, worlds that were far apart in language and customs. At one time Spain and England had warred over those differences. Marquis believed she loved another man, and she believed he still loved Isabel. He was arrogant, haughty, prideful, and demanding. How could she marry this man?

Marquis watched the different emotions playing across her face. He knew she was weighing her decision carefully. "Tell me, Valentina, do you hesitate because I may become a cripple? If so, you are wise to think on this. I do not imagine it would be too pleasant being married to a cripple."

Valentina shook her head and looked into his eyes. She wanted to go down on her knees and gather him to her. She wanted to assure him that she would love him even if he were to lose both legs. "It is my fault that you were injured, Marquis," she admitted through trembling lips. "I would never turn you away because you suffered from my stubbornness. How can you think I would be so heartless?"

He smiled and reached for her hand. "It would seem we have cleared away all your objections, does it not? Say you will become my wife, Valentina?" Slowly she gave him her hand and felt his grip tighten about her fingers. "Do we make a pact, Valentina?"

". . . You may regret it later."

"Nothing is certain in this life. I believe we are well suited to each other. Say . . . yes," he whispered, causing an ache deep inside of Valentina.

She closed her eyes for just a moment. There were many reasons she should say no, but her heart cried out for her to accept him on any terms. Opening her eyes, she found him staring intently at her. ". . . Yes, I will marry you.

Joy leapt into Marquis's eyes, and his heart soared like a bird on wing before his lashes half covered those glorious dark eyes and he was able to hide his jubilance behind a mask of casual indifference. "Good. I was sure you would be sensible. Go and prepare yourself for travel. I have plans to make."

Valentina was stunned. She had just agreed to marry Marquis. He had accepted her answer with as little enthusiasm as if she had agreed to bring him a drink of water. Should he not at the very least have said something about being happy that she had accepted his proposal? Did he have to say she was being
sensible
? When was he going to take her in his arms and kiss her?

Standing up, she hid her disappointment. "When would you want the wedding to take place, Marquis?"

"We will be married today. There is a small mission that lies between here and Paraiso del Norte. We will be married there."

"I cannot marry you this soon. I have to get home to my mother. She will have to be told that I could find nothing about my father."

"I will send Salamar and six of my vaqueros to transport your mother to Paraiso del Norte. They will be advised to take the greatest care of her health."

"It seems that you have everything planned, with one exception. What will your family think of our marriage? I cannot believe that they will agree wholeheartedly."

"My sister will be delighted. My grandfather will think I am most fortunate, and my mother will accept you in the course of time. Now go and send Tyree to me."

Valentina took a hesitant step toward the exit, wishing she dared ask if he was happy that she would be his wife. Raising her head and squaring her shoulders, she moved through the opening into the bright sunlight. The sky was its usual brilliant blue, and the same sun shed its light down on the golden land. Everything was the same, except Valentina. She had committed herself to a life of torment. She would be married to the man she loved, but he would never love her. How could she compete with the love he had for the beautiful fiery-tempered Isabel?

Seeing Salamar standing in front of the cabin, Valentina hastened toward her. Salamar would give her the comfort she needed. She would give her the assurance that Marquis had failed to offer.

Marquis gritted his teeth, feeling pain as if it were a red-hot poker being jabbed into his legs. It had taken considerable effort to hide his agony from Valentina. He had never wanted her pity, although he suspected that was why she had agreed to marry him. He had used her guilty feelings—played on her sympathy—to gain her hand in marriage. But it mattered little what her reasons were for marrying him. He felt no qualms about capitalizing on her guilt.

Marquis had to have Valentina, and soon she would be his. No one—not even the man who had fathered her child—could take her away from him now.

22

In spite of the agonizing pain, Marquis refused to ride in the back of the wagon his grandfather had sent to transport him home. He insisted on riding his own horse, even though each step the animal took made him feel as if nettles were stabbing into his legs and back.

Still in command of the situation, he had sent six of his vaquero's with Salamar to make arrangements for transporting Valentina's mother to Paraiso del Norte. One of his men had gone ahead to inform his grandfather that he would be bringing Valentina Barrett home as his bride.

Valentina rode between Marquis and Tyree, staring straight ahead. Now that the heat of the moment had subsided, she was having second thoughts about her hasty decision to marry Marquis. What did she really know about him, aside from the fact that she loved him? She knew nothing about his customs and everyday life. What duties would she be expected to perform as the wife of a Vincente? She hoped he would treat her differently after they were married. Thus far, he had all but ignored her.

Tyree could feel her uneasiness and drew her into conversation. "I haven't had the chance to wish you well, Valentina. Marquis already knows how I feel, but I want you to know that I wish you both every happiness. You are two of my best friends, and I will glory in your happiness."

She smiled over at him. "I hope you know that I will always be your friend, Tyree. You have proven time and time again that you are mine."

Marquis's leg was throbbing, and he was in no mood to watch Valentina flirt with Tyree. "I thought we agreed you would ride ahead and tell the priest that we are on our way, Tyree," Marquis said sourly.

Tyree's lusty laugh caught Valentina's ear, and he cast Marquis an all-knowing glance, having realized his friend was jealous. He spurred his horse forward, wondering if Valentina knew how possessive her future husband was going to be. "I'll see you in church," he called back over his shoulder, and soon he was lost in a cloud of dust.

Without Tyree's comforting presence, silence and gloom hung heavily over the wedding couple. Looking across at Marquis, Valentina saw the beads of perspiration on his brow and the whiteness around his mouth.

"Are you in pain?" she asked quickly. "You shouldn't be riding so great a distance on horseback. Would it not be better for you to ride in the—"

He cast her a glance that froze her next words into silence. "I am in a better position to judge what I should and should not do. I am not like your puny Englishmen, who cannot endure a little discomfort."

Valentina choked back her hurt and her angry reply. She wished that Salamar could have stayed with her until after the wedding. Even though she was surrounded by more than a dozen vaqueros, she felt alone and deserted. Training her eyes on the landscape, she tried not to look at Marquis. If he was going to be rude to her just because she was concerned about his well being, he could just suffer for all she cared. Her eyes misted at the thought of him being in pain. God help her, where was this all going to end?

Marquis knew he had hurt Valentina and that was the last thing he had wanted to do. He wanted to take care of her—to cherish her as she deserved to be cherished. But this was made impossible because of the weakness brought on by his injury and his bitter feelings about the child she carried. He would have liked to have forgotten about the child, but it stood between them like a wall of stone. He hoped that as time passed he would accept the child as his own. Yet Marquis dreaded the time to come when Valentina's stomach would swell from the baby.

Today was his wedding day. Already, in the distance, Marquis could hear the mission bells pealing in his honor. As his eyes skipped across Valentina's golden hair, which had come loose from the ribbon and was blowing freely in the soft wind, his heart overflowed with love. How beautiful she was—almost too beautiful. She was wearing the same riding habit she had worn in the cave-in. Salamar must have cleaned it because, even though it was tattered and torn, no dust or soil remained.

Marquis felt guilty for the way he had been treating Valentina. She was a bride today, and yet he had done nothing to make this day special for her. Holding up his hand for everyone to halt, he instructed one of his vaqueros to pick a bouquet of wildflowers from those growing beside the roadway.

The small meadow was dotted with golden flowers, and their aroma sweetly danced on the wind. The vaquero gathered an armload of the blossoms and approached Valentina, smiling broadly, honored that he had been chosen to pick the flowers for his
patron
's lady. Doffing his wide-brimmed
sombrero
, the man held out the brightly colored flowers to her.

"Your wedding bouquet, Valentina," Marquis said softly, losing himself for the moment in the shimmering depths of her silver eyes.

Lowering her head, Valentina breathed in the strangely sweet aroma. "These are lovely. What are they called?" she asked.

"We Spaniards call them
'copas de oro'
—cups of gold. There is a legend that says these flowers grow nowhere but in California."

Valentina smiled up into his dark eyes. "This is a most appropriate bouquet for my wedding then, Marquis. I will become a Californian by marriage."

Marquis felt warmth in his heart as the blood went throbbing through his body. He wanted to take Valentina in his arms and wipe away the doubts he saw on her face. Instead, he moved forward in the saddle and gave the signal for them to proceed.,

Clutching the sweet-scented flowers, Valentina turned her head to hide the tears that fell on the petals. She remembered that it had been Marquis's style to give a single rose. She wished with all her heart that she could turn back the sands of time to when Marquis had teased her and offered her his friendship. At least then he had respected her and called her Silver Eyes.

They rode on in silence, each lost in his own thought, both painfully aware that this was not the wedding day they had envisioned.

As the wedding party topped a hill, Valentina saw the green valley below. Nestled in a grove of oak trees was a small, insignificant-looking mission, its crumbling adobe walls in need of repair, its bells beckoning Marquis and Valentina to the welcome they would find there. As they drew near, the bells fell silent and a small, white-haired padre wearing a plain brown robe and crude leather sandals came rushing out to them.

While Tyree came forward and helped Valentina from her mount, two vaqueros assisted Marquis from his horse. When Marquis was placed on his feet, he felt the world tilt and stabbing pain left him breathless. Pride was pushed aside as he gripped the vaquero who stood nearby.

"Jose, you and Enrique carry me up the steps," he ground out, hoping he could make it through the ceremony standing on his own two feet.

Valentina rushed to his side and took his hand. "Marquis, you are in a great deal of pain. The wedding can wait until another day."

"It will take place now," he managed to say. "Everything is in readiness."

Valentina watched helplessly as he turned away from her to lean heavily on Enrique's shoulder.

The
padre
walked behind Marquis, assuring him how honored the mission was to have been chosen as the site for a Vincente wedding. He blessed the day, he blessed the wedding party, he blessed Providence for having sent him the grandson of Don Alonso Vincente.

Tyree took Valentina's arm and led her up the steps, giving her a reassuring smile. When they entered the mission, they were greeted with welcome coolness provided by the thick walls. A musty odor proclaimed the adobe structure to be very old. The walls, which had been painted with scenes from the book of Genesis, were chipped and peeling. Valentina could not help but be saddened that the artwork of another time was being lost from either neglect or lack of money for repairs.

"Smile. You don't look like a bride is supposed to," Tyree gently warned.

Valentina stared down at the crumpled wildflowers clutched in her hand. "I don't feel like a bride. I fear I am making a terrible mistake, Tyree. I have the strangest urge to leap on a horse and ride for my life."

Tyree looked deeply into her eyes. "Do you love Marquis?"

"Yes. That seems to be the one thing that hasn't changed. At least I think it's love."

"Marry him then, Valentina. Put your doubts aside and smile. I am about to have the great honor of giving you away to my best friend."

Valentina felt overwhelming pity as she watched the two men helping Marquis to walk. Although his back was to her, she could tell he was in pain. She could only imagine what that walk down the aisle was costing him. "He is a strange, stubborn man, Tyree. I don't really know him at all."

"He is a man who is bound by honor and tradition. He has a great capacity for loving and giving. I believe you will bring out his best qualities. Give him time, Valentina."

By now they had drawn even with Marquis, and Valentina had no time to reply. One of the men still stood beside Marquis, and he leaned heavily on him. When Tyree handed Valentina over to Marquis, she felt his warm grasp and knew he was feverish. She felt frantic, knowing Marquis was ill and needed to be in bed.

Marquis drew her closer to him and, for the first time, smiled at her. "You cannot get away from me now, Valentina," he whispered next to her ear. "I will never let you go."

The
padre
had opened his tattered black Bible and began to recite the wedding rites. At one point Valentina felt Marquis sway and her hand tightened on his. Tyree, seeing that Marquis was weakening, moved forward and stood behind to brace him.

When the
padre
asked if Marquis would take Valentina as his wife, Marquis could do no more than nod his head. Valentina was so concerned for Marquis that she hardly remembered replying to the
padre's
words. There, in the quaint old mission, with the blessing of the kind little
padre
, Valentina became the wife of Marquis Domingo Vincente.

At the precise moment that they were pronounced husband and wife, Marquis collapsed. If Tyree and Enrique had not grabbed him, he would have fallen. Tyree lifted his unconscious friend in his arms and told Enrique to run ahead and make the wagon ready.

Valentina cried out when she saw how pale Marquis was. Leaving a startled
padre
to wonder what was happening, she dashed down the aisle and outside. Climbing into the wagon, she helped Enrique arrange the feather mattress so there would be no lumps. When Tyree gently placed Marquis in the wagon, Valentina took his head in her lap and tucked a blanket about him. She softly pushed the dark hair, wet from perspiration, from his forehead.

"Is he going to live, Tyree?" she asked frantically. "He is just weak from the journey, isn't he?" she questioned, needing assurance.

The
padre
was saying a prayer for Marquis's recovery, as well as bestowing a blessing on the newlyweds. Valentina could only imagine what the little man would be thinking about the strange wedding he had just performed.

Her eyes sought Tyree's. "Marquis is a strong man. It will take more than a little accident to lay him low," Tyree told her. "He needs a few weeks—perhaps a couple of months—to heal properly." Tyree knew he was telling Valentina what she needed to hear. Nothing would be gained if he told her of his own fears. If the infection was not cured, Marquis could lose his legs, or even his life.

Valentina grabbed Tyree's hand as she searched his face. "Have I done the right thing, Tyree? Will Marquis forgive me when he learns that I have tricked him?"

"I don't know, Valentina, but you will have to tell him sometime."

He shifted his eyes, feeling guilty for having gone against  Valentina's  wishes and telling Marquis that Jordanna was having his baby. He decided to warn Valentina about what Marquis's reaction toward the baby had "been. "Valentina, bide your time and choose the right moment to tell Marquis that you are Jordanna."

"Why?" she questioned, looking down at her new husband.

Tyree had trouble meeting her gaze. "Because I told him that Jordanna was having his baby."

Her face whitened. "You didn't ... he doesn't know that—"

"No, he does not know that you are Jordanna."

"What was his reaction when you told him, Tyree?"

This time he met her gaze squarely. "I won't lie to you, Valentina. He wanted me to give money to Jordanna to take care of her and the baby. He suggested she might move away from San Francisco."

Her silver-blue eyes darkened with pain. "I see," she said in a dull voice. "I see, but I don't understand. Why would Marquis turn his back on Jordanna and offer me marriage?"

"I believe you know the answer to that, Valentina."

Her eyes burned as she glanced down at Marquis. "Yes, I do understand. He is Marquis Vincente, Spanish blue blood; therefore, Jordanna was not good enough for him."

"Knowing that, handle the situation with care, Valentina. Tell Marquis the truth, but choose the time wisely," he warned. Turning to Enrique, Tyree told him to drive the wagon slowly and to avoid bumps whenever possible. Reaching out and grasping Valentina's hand, he smiled at her softly. "I will remain behind and settle everything with the padre."