Johanna Lindsey - Brave the Wild Wind

“But why did your uncle interfere, for God’s sake?”

“Uncle Francisco took his guardianship too seriously. He felt that he was doing the right thing, that I really was too young to make such an important decision. He also feared that my mother would not approve. He had written her about it to ask her guidance, but of course everything happened so quickly. He panicked when he was confronted with Mary’s pregnancy. He resorted to lies because he didn’t really know what to do.”

“You defend him?” Chase asked angrily.

“No,” Don Carlos replied. “I damned him myself when he told me and could not give him the forgiveness he begged for before he died. But I do understand better now. And he did try to make amends. You see, his great guilt was that my marriage had produced no children, none that lived. Yet he knew I must have a child somewhere in America. So he left his entire fortune at my disposal to find that child. I have spent nearly half of it doing just that, but with no luck. Now that you are found, his last instructions can be fulfilled. The rest of his wealth was to be given to you. It is yours.”

“No it’s not,” Chase said automatically. “I’ll be damned if I’ll take any of his money.”

“But you must take it,” Don Carlos said. “It was left to the child of Mary Beckett. There is still a considerable amount left, and I also have much to make up for.”

“No! I didn’t come here looking for money from you and certainly not from your uncle.”

“You’ve made that quite clear, Chase,” Jessie interjected, angry at his obstinacy. “But we’ll take the money, Don Carlos.”

“Like hell we will!”

“I certainly will. I’m not pigheaded enough to throw away money.”

“I can support you, Jessie.”

“Yes, well, we can talk about that later,” she said evasively, sorry she’d opened her mouth. “I think I’ll take my leave now, Chase, since you’ve broken the ice so nicely.”

Jessie couldn’t get out of that room fast enough. She regretted her sarcasm but wondered why Chase couldn’t be a little bit gracious. Remembering how she’d treated her mother, she pushed the thought aside. She returned to her own room and paced the floor nervously.

The knock at the door startled Jessie, but she sighed when she saw it was Rodrigo. “I thought you were my husband.”

“And you do not wish to see him?”

“How did—? It’s just that we had a little argument.”

Rodrigo stepped forward into the room. “You do not have to explain. I could not help but overhear you on the stairs.”

“Oh.” She had forgotten about that argument already.

“I did not understand the words, but the tone was unmistakable.”

Jessie flushed. “Did Nita overhear, too?”

“No, I don’t think so. But you must not be embarrassed that I know. I could not be more delighted.”

He reached for her hand, but Jessie stepped back, frowning. “Delighted? I think we are having a problem with translation here. And I thought my Spanish was so good.”

Rodrigo shook his head, smiling at her. “You may think me callous, but I am glad to know all is not well between you and your husband. I wish I had confessed my feelings to you before now. I would not have had to hide them these last few days.”

“Rodrigo, what exactly do you mean?”

He smiled. “I knew I loved you from the first day I saw you.”

Jessie gasped. “But you can’t love me. I just got here, and you barely know me.”

“What does time mean where the heart is concerned?”

Jessie very nearly laughed, but stopped herself in time.

“Rodrigo, you are very sweet, but I cannot take this seriously. I’m sure you don’t, either.”

“You doubt me?” He did not appear wounded, only determined. “I have dreamed of being able to bare my soul to you. I have dreamed ...”

He gathered her into his arms. His kiss was startling, neither welcome nor unpleasant. Jessie’s only thought was, I’m married now—no one can kiss me but Chase. It was disquieting that she should think only of Chase when another man was kissing her, quite a handsome man, too.

She turned her head to the side, ready to admonish Rodrigo. The words stuck in her throat. She faced the door, and Chase was standing there. She had never seen him looking so forbidding.

“That is what I have dreamed of doing, my love,” Rodrigo was saying, blissfully unaware of Chase. “This and so much more. When we are married.”

“Rodrigo, stop it!” Jessie shoved him back and looked away from Chase to glare at Rodrigo. “You assumed far too much from overhearing a little argument. I have a husband. And now I have to explain this to him.”

“You will tell him? But that is wonderful!”

“I have no intention of leaving him,” Jessie said curtly, “but I will have to explain your actions. You see, he happens to be standing behind you right now.”

Rodrigo whirled around. His color rose. Jessie was grateful that Chase didn’t understand Spanish. She could make light of the situation because he hadn’t understood Rodrigo’s declaration.

“Just go, Rodrigo,” Jessie sighed. “I believe there is going to be another argument here.”

Rodrigo reluctantly did as she asked. But he could not look Chase in the eyes and cautiously moved around him. What could he say to him? A fine meeting for cousins!

“Why don’t you close the door?” Jessie suggested nervously when after an intolerable lapse of time, Chase had not moved an inch.

He closed the door very slowly, then walked into the room. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you give me some dire warnings earlier about improper behavior?”

“You don’t understand, Chase,” she said hurriedly.

“Yes, I understand. It’s quite clear. I am the only one forbidden the slightest indiscretion. You on the other hand are free to make a mockery of our wedding vows whenever it suits you.”

“I am not,” she replied indignantly. “And I haven’t. Damn it, will you let me explain?”

“By all means,” he said tightly. “This ought to be interesting.”

Jessie raised her chin stubbornly. “If you’re going to take that attitude—”

“Jessie, if you’d rather I let loose what I’m really feeling—”

“No! I mean, you haven’t got a single reason to be angry.” Her hand went nervously to her throat. “It’s not as if I welcomed Rodrigo’s embrace. He just got carried away.”

“And of course you didn’t encourage him.”

“Damn it, he thinks he loves me. I was as surprised as you are.”

“Surprised isn’t what I am, Jessie,” Chase returned coldly.

“What was I supposed to do?” she demanded angrily. “He heard us arguing and assumed all was not well. He wouldn’t have spoken otherwise. He had only just declared his feelings and kissed me to prove his sincerity when you walked in. I didn’t take him seriously. But I did explain to him that he was mistaken in his assumption about us, Chase.”

“Did you? What would you have told him if I hadn’t walked in, Jessie?”

“How dare you!”

“How?” Chase exploded then. “I’ll tell you how! Every damn time I turn my head you’ve got another lovesick gallant falling at your feet. First a cowpoke who takes revenge on you for your rejection. Then a Sioux warrior who would happily kill for you. A Cheyenne brave who would die to protect you. Now my cousin falls under your spell. How long was this going on before I arrived, Jessie?”

“You bastard!” Jessie stormed. “If you’re angry over what happened in Don Carlos’s room then say so, but don’t use this as an excuse to pick a fight with me.”

“I’ll get to that another time.”

“No, you won’t,” Jessie said icily. “I don’t need this kind of treatment, not in my condition. Get out of here. Find yourself another room,” she added stiffly. “This one is taken.”

RODRIGO drew up the carriage and unhitched the horses they had brought with them for the rest of the journey. Jessie had the gentlest mare in Don Carlos’s stable, while Rodrigo mounted one of Don Carlos’s magnificent white Spanish-Arabians. How Jessie missed her beloved Blackstar, waiting for her with Goldenrod back in Chicago. But she wasn’t put out over having been given a tame horse. She knew she shouldn’t be sitting a horse at all, even sidesaddle and heavily cushioned as she was. She shouldn’t even have left the house, for that matter, but the way things had been between her and Chase meant she needed time away from him.

So she was on her way to Ronda to watch Rodrigo dazzle a large audience with his bullfighting skills. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the only road to Ronda hadn’t been an old mule path, inaccessible by carriage. It must have been fine for the legendary Andalusian bandits who made Ronda their final stronghold in the last great rising of the Moors against Ferdinand and Isabella. One narrow path was easy to guard. But it was a damnably difficult crossing for a heavily pregnant woman.

Jessie had been to Ronda several times already with Rodrigo and Nita over the last months, but she was just as awed as she’d been the first time she saw the town perched high above a rocky cleft that plunged three hundred feet deep. The cleft was spanned by three bridges. She had been terrified crossing the Puente Nuevo, the highest bridge, looking down at the gorge dividing the town. Far below were the other two bridges, both built on ancient Roman foundations.

In the older section of the town one could see gypsies in the streets and watch them dance the fiery and passionate flamenco. Nita proudly claimed that she could dance better than the gypsies did.

Don Carlos’s dying was never mentioned anymore. He had improved with each day since Chase’s arrival, and he left his room once or twice every day, swearing to become his old self again very soon. There was already talk of traveling, even of his returning to America with Chase and Jessie.

Chase was delighted. He was getting closer and closer to his father. In fact, the only time Jessie saw Chase act like his old self was when he was with Don Carlos. At all other times, he was coldly unapproachable.

She was beginning to think Chase never would forgive her for what had happened between her and Rodrigo. He paid no attention to her explanation. They were strangers now, it seemed. She had opened the subject several times, but he always left the room when she did. He plainly wanted nothing more to do with her.

These last months had been intolerable. In her loneliness, she’d spent more and more time with Rodrigo and even Nita. Rodrigo had never confessed his love again, but he was always attentive, always eager to please her.

So there she was in Ronda. She knew she had no business traveling, not that close to her delivery. Rodrigo thought it was perfectly safe, of course, because he was with her.

The heavy perfume of orange blossoms assailed them as they passed the gardens of Paseo de la Merced in Mercadillo, the newer section of Ronda—newer by only a few centuries. The bullring was in that part of town. Truth to tell, Jessie would rather have been in bed resting. But Rodrigo had told her so much about bullfighting and about his own skill that she’d had no heart to refuse him.

She recalled the three elements critics looked for in judging bullfighters. The style of the matador was one. It meant standing straight, firmly planted, unyielding, and bringing the bull past him with a grace that gave no ground. Mastery of the bull, controlling the animal’s every move and spinning him around at will, was the second element. The third was performing the maneuvers as slowly as possible, for the longer the time of dangerous closeness lasted, the more opportunities the bull had to change his tactics and test the matador.

Rodrigo left her alone in the stands and went to dress. She did not see him again until the opening parade across the ring, which involved all the participants in the spectacle. There were two matadors besides Rodrigo, and they all looked grand in their tight-fitting silken hose, knee-length pants, and brilliantly jeweled jackets. Most of the crowd was gaily dressed as well, the exceptionally warm weather allowing the women to wear sleeveless blouses. They wore flounced, colorful skirts, and their hair was rolled up under high combs and mantillas. But the Moorish influence was not entirely lost. Some women covered their heads and the lower half of their faces with embroidered linen, and their dresses were much more somber.

After the parade, the first bull was released and the maneuvers around him began. Then Rodrigo came out, the first matador to demonstrate his skill with the cape, and the tension increased palpably. For a while Jessie forgot her nagging backache and the overall discomfort the last week had brought her. She watched as he went through a series of passes, playing with the bull, testing the huge animal and she joined in the roar of “ole!” as the crowd cheered Rodrigo.