The Diamond of the Rockies [03] The Tender Vine (28 page)

Mamma held out a papery bulb. “Crush the garlic, Carina.”

But Carina set down her utensils and pulled off her apron. Tia Marta put a hand to her shoulder, but Carina hurried through the door.

Angelo’s tone was more insulting than angry. “Can you read? Can you write? Do you—” He broke off when Carina came into the room, fists to her hips.

“Of course he reads! And writes poetry. And memorizes books.
You
can’t claim as much!”

Angelo reddened. He wasn’t stupid by any account, but neither was he a stellar student. Her brothers looked at Quillan, seemed to reappraise him, then dismissed that for their original assessment. Angelo sneered, “What has he to show for it?”

Quillan looked wary, tense. She didn’t think the others could tell, but in his charcoal-rimmed gray eyes she saw something of Wolf. Carina waited for him to tell them about his mine, his fortune. Surely he’d made something from the sale? If not, he must have done well enough freighting? But Quillan said nothing, only stood with one hand holding his lapel.

Papa leaned one elbow on the mantel, elegant in silk-embroidered vest and white sleeves, exactly as Carina had remembered him—except for his expression. He said softly, “Where is your family? Who are they?”

Carina started to answer, but Papa sent her a scathing glare. “Let him answer for himself.”

She clutched her hands together. What would Quillan say? Surely not the truth.

“My parents are dead.”

Papa waved his hand. “Grandparents, uncles, cousins?”

Quillan shook his head a little stiffly.

Papa frowned. “You have no relatives?”

Carina’s breath caught. She pictured William DeMornay in his fine mansion, his slender fingers folded in his lap, his grim expression.
“What
are you after . . . money?”

Quillan said, “No.”

Carina’s breath returned. The DeMornays had denied him. Even though the locket proved otherwise—the diary, as well—in their minds, at least William’s, Quillan did not exist.

“So you have nothing.” Papa extended his fingers disdainfully.

For the first time Carina saw his arrogance, and Quillan saw it, too. She watched his fire ignite.

Papa’s chin raised. “And you think you should live here with my daughter, with my blessing, when you bring nothing.”

Quillan’s jaw tightened; the tendons stood out under his flesh. “I bring myself. Judge me on that.”

Papa’s eyes locked with Quillan’s. “Then you have already failed. You stole my daughter, disgraced her and me.”

Quillan said, “I have never disgraced Carina.”

Papa’s fist came down on the mantel. Carina jumped. Never had Papa lost his temper publicly!

“You contradict me? In front of my family?” He swung his arm to include all his sons.

Quillan said, “I meant no disrespect.”

The vein in Papa’s temple pulsed, but he contained his anger. “You found my daughter vulnerable and forced your attentions—”

“It wasn’t like that, Papa!” Carina’s hands clenched at her sides. “He saved my life!” Now all eyes were on her. “In my letter I told you Crystal was lovely, but it wasn’t. It was hard and terrible. I went to Quillan for help.”

Papa’s eyes narrowed. “And he used that to marry you?”

Carina spread her hands. “It was all he could do to stop a man who was truly worthy of your disdain. You should thank him, Papa, for saving me from shame. I was the foolish one. Not Quillan.”

Papa’s mouth pulled down. “You defend him, but that does not excuse—”

Quillan stepped forward. “I ask your pardon for marrying without your blessing. If circumstances had permitted, I would have asked it.”

Papa looked him up and down without speaking. Would he accept Quillan’s apology? Fervently she hoped so. He said, “I would have refused.”

Quillan’s chin dropped just enough that Carina felt the blow.

“You’re a stranger to our ways, our religion, our life. I would not have wished exile for my daughter.”

“I can learn.” Quillan drew himself up.

“He can, Papa. You should see how quickly he learns the language.” Carina leaned forward earnestly.

“Then we’ll have to watch what we say.” Papa’s words were cruel, brutal in impact. He would not accept Quillan, not give him a chance.

Carina looked around the room, every face hostile, judging. Her fists hardened again at her sides. “If you don’t accept Quillan, you don’t accept me.”

Angelo exploded. “Be quiet, Carina. This is our father’s business.”

Carina looked at Quillan. He stood stiffly, too proud to show the hurt she knew was there. It wasn’t Papa’s business. It was theirs.

Quillan dropped his hands to his sides. “Thank you for your hospitality. I won’t impinge further.”

Carina caught her breath sharply. “If you go, I go, too.”

Quillan shook his head. “You need to stay here with your family.”

“I’d rather sleep on the street.” She turned for the door.

Angelo caught her arm. “Don’t you dare insult Papa.” His fingers dug into her flesh.

“I won’t stay without my husband.” She shot her gaze to Papa.

Her father raised a hand. “It’s your husband who leaves you.”

The pain shot through her. Would he? Had Quillan brought her there only to leave again? She turned to him, beseeching. Quillan’s gaze softened. He wanted her to understand . . . what? Why he would leave her? She struggled against Angelo’s hold, but Lorenzo caught her other arm and held her firmly.

Her eyes followed Quillan as he walked through the door. She heard his steps on the stairs. He was going. He would pack his things and go. Her heart thumped inside her. “No!” She fought off Angelo and Lorenzo and ran for the stairs, holding her side where the corset made hard breathing painful. She rushed into the room. “I won’t let you go.”

Quillan straightened from the bag he had opened. She rushed to him, clasped him in her arms, and pressed her tear-streaked face to his chest.

He returned her embrace with desperate force, kissing her head. “It’s only for a while, Carina, until I can find us a place or build one.”

“No.” She shook her head.

He caught her face. “I’m not leaving you. But I can’t stay under this roof.”

“Then let me come.” She covered his hands, pressed his palms against her cheeks.

He shook his head. “If you came now, it would destroy any chance we have. Show your father the respect he demands.”

Carina shook her head. “Where will you be?”

“In town somewhere. I’ll let you know.”

A sob caught in her throat. “This can’t be right.”

“You heard him, Carina. I have to prove that I’m no different, that I can be what you are.”

“So prove it here!” She clung to his hand.

He stood back. “Do you really believe that’s possible?”

She looked up into his face. He was no fool, her husband. But it broke her heart to watch him go. He stuffed the rest of his clothes from the trunk into the bag, took up his leather pack and another satchel. He bent and kissed her lips, then left the room. His steps going down were like blows. She threw herself onto the bed and sobbed.

How could they be so cruel? What had he done? Why must he always prove himself worthy? Would no one ever accept him? She punched her fists into the bed. She accepted him, loved him. But she was being denied even that.

Had she committed some unforgivable sin? She thought of all the things she had hoped Quillan wouldn’t say, the things she wanted to keep hidden. Was she ashamed of him, of Rose and Wolf? Was she ashamed of the way their marriage had happened? Did she know inside it was wrong?

No! She thrust herself up. She almost ran after him, but he was right. They had to make her family see, and they couldn’t do that if she made the breach so wide it couldn’t be healed. So Papa was human. So he’d been insulted. She would show him her love, her respect. Then she’d show him all the reasons he should love and accept Quillan.

She snatched a handkerchief from the bed and wiped her face. Then one by one she hung her dresses in the wardrobe, then folded her blouses and undergarments into the drawers. She looked up at the knock. “Yes?”

Divina opened the door. “Dinner is ready.”

Carina seethed. She should go down now and eat with them? “I’m not hungry.”

Divina advanced. “You deserve it, Carina. You’ve caused no end to misery. Flavio—”

“What about him?” Carina clutched her gabardine camisole.

Divina’s face was a knife. She had put on more weight than just the baby, but her face now looked sharp enough to cut. “You know he’ll never love anyone but you.”

Carina huffed out her breath at the absurdity. “You can say that?”

“You stupid baby.” Divina brought her face up close. “You think because Flavio dallies he doesn’t love you?”

“Dallies, Divina?” Carina questioned. “Whose child is in your belly?”

Divina’s slap numbed Carina’s ear and burned her cheek. Carina pressed her palm on the stinging flesh. She stood frozen as Divina stalked from the room, then she backed into the bed and sat down, covering her eyes with her hands. Could anything else go wrong?

It was as if some evil had pervaded her family while she was gone. Everything that had been safe and good was gone. Everyone had changed. Or did she just see them differently? Had she been so self-centered and arrogant herself that she couldn’t see it in them? Had she been so coddled and petted that she blinded herself to reality?

No. There was good. There had to be. She had brought distress to her family, but even in that they held together, stood as one. They were loyal to each other. It was just that she was now outside it. She dropped to her knees. “Signore, tell me what to do. I love my family. They are my people, my life. This land, this place—the moment I saw it again, my heart jumped inside me. I want to live here with my husband, raising our children.”

She swallowed the hard lump in her throat and pressed a hand to her belly. No new life had replaced the other. Her cycles were irregular, and there were times she felt a weakness all through her. Maybe it was best no life took hold. What if she couldn’t sustain it? She thought of Divina’s belly full with child. Whether Nicolo’s or Flavio’s, it didn’t matter. She would hold a baby in her arms, suckle it at her breast.

Carina’s loss overwhelmed her. She climbed onto the bed and cried. When Mamma came in, sat down, and embraced her, she wished for one moment she were a little girl again, playing with her brothers, her cousins, even Divina, who didn’t play fair. She wished she could go back in time before she knew such grief as this.

“Shh, shh.” Mamma stroked her hair.

But all Carina could think was how Quillan’s mother had done the same, and how he had remembered the feel of her hair from infancy. Mamma had to understand. “I love him, Mamma. As much as you love Papa. I had his baby inside me, but it’s dead now. They beat it out of me.” She crumpled into Mamma’s arms.

“Dear God, dear God.” Mamma rocked her.

“You have to help me. I can’t live without him.” She didn’t want to.

Mamma said nothing, but held her.

Carina pulled away. “Papa has to see.”

“It’s not only Papa.”

Carina swiped her tears. “The others will listen.”

Mamma shook her head. “Tell me why, Carina. Flavio gave you his heart, you, out of everyone he could have chosen. You know it’s true. He could have had any girl, but he loved you, loves you still.”

Carina stiffened. “He wasn’t faithful, Mamma.”

She shrugged. “So he’s young. He would settle down when his children came.”

Carina bit her lip hard to keep from saying his child was on the way. Mamma was not stupid. She knew Divina’s belly was not a four-month size. But was it possible she knew nothing of Flavio’s part?

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I have a husband.”

Mamma dropped her eyes. “Did he force you? It could be annulled if—”

“No!” Quickly she told Mamma about Berkley Beck and how Quillan had protected her from a terrible marriage. It sounded impossible, but Mamma had no experience of Crystal, of roughs, of vigilantes.

Mamma gathered her black lace shawl and tied it around her shoulders. “The marriage could be unlawful on grounds of coercion. You were forced by circumstances.”

Carina stared at her. Had she heard nothing? “Mamma.” She caught her mother’s face, made her look at her. “Quillan is my husband under God. Nothing will sever that.”

Mamma didn’t answer. She stroked Carina’s cheek, and a tear pooled in her eye. Fear filled Carina, fear of something in Mamma’s thoughts. But her mother stood up. “Why don’t you come down and eat?”

Just like that? Carina looked up. “I’m not hungry.”

Mamma shrugged. “As you like.” Willowy and graceful, she left the room.

Carina stared after her. If she had agreed to annul the marriage, would Quillan now be safe?

S
EVENTEEN

Hatred:

Forged in the heart, like poisoned air it seeps, from lips and eyes finding escape. And I? I am the smith who hammers it into the hearts of those I would esteem, those I wish esteemed me.

—Quillan

Q
UILLAN LAID ASIDE THE JOURNAL
. The room he’d found in the Union Hotel was suitable. But looking around it, he almost felt homesick for the simplicity of his tent on the creek in Crystal when he was answerable to no one but himself. He thought over the words he’d written, bitter words borne of yet another rejection. This time he had tainted Carina, as well. He closed his eyes, but her tear-streaked face was in his mind. Eyes open or closed, he saw her.

Because of him, her family resented her. How far would they go? He slammed his fist into his palm. His first thought was to run, to desert her. Wasn’t desertion grounds for annulment? Then he realized it was impossible. He had made a covenant before God. He intended to keep it.

So the only thing to do was what he said before. He had to learn to be Italian. The thought sent a flicker of amusement, which was quickly quenched. Too much rested on it. But then, how did he know he wasn’t? Wolf ’s people could have been from Italy. What’s to say they weren’t? Carina’s father was fair, blue eyed. Joseph and Lorenzo, as well. Maybe Wolf ’s golden hair and gray eyes came from the same stock. But he was being fanciful.