Authors: Leigh Greenwood
"How can you say such a thing?"
"He sacrificed a son."
"Who?"
"Your grandfather."
Valeria wanted to deny it, but her words died unsaid. There had always been a silence, a turning away of heads, when she asked about her grandfather. Even her father would say only that he died in a military operation.
"He wanted to lead the country toward democracy," Hans said. "He had met with opposition leaders. They were all killed at the direct orders of your greatgrandfather. My grandfather delivered the orders."
Valeria had never pretended her ancestors were scrupulously honest or honorable. But she'd always glossed over their misdeeds, saying they had done what was necessary to preserve the government, keep the country safe and prosperous for the people. Could she still say that?
She longed to ask Hans more, to search until she found a reason to believe he was wrong, but she was afraid she would find even more that would shame her. "What does this have to do with Luke Attmore?"
"He will do what he must to see that you reach Duke Rudolf. It won't matter to him whether you like what he does or the way he does it. He will deliver you safely."
"Then what?"
"He'll move on to his next job."
"Just like that?"
"Why shouldn't he?"
She couldn't think of a reason, but she couldn't understand how he could just turn his back after being willing to risk his life for her. She didn't see how her life could be so important and his count for so little.
Then she understood. It wasn't her life at all. It was his reputation. His honor as a gunfighter. But having understood that only made her feel worse.
"You think we ought to do what he says?" she asked.
"I don't see that we have any choice."
Her laugh was humorless. "Nor do I. I expect we'd better get to bed. I intend to eat breakfast tomorrow."
"And I intend to see the chef finds something to feed Otto at noonday. If he's in the same mood tomorrow as today, I'll kill him before nightfall." He paused. "Aren't you coming to bed?"
"In a minute."
"Goodnight, your highness. Don't stay up too long."
It would probably be better if she stayed awake all night. Then she would sleep through some of the interminable day. When her family had gone on vacations to the Greek Islands, Marrakesh, or Tangiers, the native people had taken naps after luncheon to escape the heat of the day. Some people in Bonner did the same. It was probably a good idea.
Besides, she felt too full of food to go to sleep, and she wanted to enjoy the coolness of the evening. Being outside in the dark was a new experience for her, but she felt safe as long as she could see the light from the fires. The trees along the river looked dark and menacing, but bright moonlight bathed the plain, the foothills, and the mountains. It was an unfamiliar and forbidding landscape, but it didn't frighten her.
Luke was nearby.
She didn't want to think about him-he made her question too much-but she couldn't stop. Was her family as bad as his? Were they two sides of the same coin, one looking better only because of its setting? Disturbed by her thoughts, she tried to come up with ways to make the food last longer, ways to make the journey as quick and easy as possible, but she couldn't focus on anything but his comments about her family, about the things her family would have done-had done according to Hansto preserve their throne. If he was no worse than she, then she had no right to question his advice or scorn his opinions.
Something inside whispered that her entire existence had been a sham. But she couldn't accept that. If she wasn't a princess, what was she? A figment of her own imagination. Could she exist without substance or purpose?
Everything inside her cried out against such an appraisal. She was somebody, she
did
have a purpose, she
wasn't
imaginary. She did exist.
But if she wasn't a princess anymore,
who
was she? What was her purpose?
Luke nearly bumped into Zeke.
"That was a clever way to handle them," Zeke said, sarcasm dripping from each word. "I'm sure they can hardly wait to cooperate."
"Shut up!" Luke snapped.
"I agree they're just about the most worthless human beings I've ever seen, but you can't keep carrion from rotting."
"I'm not trying to keep them from rotting. I'm just trying to keep them alive."
"You're doing more than that, brother."
"Don't call me brother."
"Adopted brother, "
he said, caressing the words in a way that made a mockery of their meaning.
"To hell with you!"
"Isabelle wouldn't like that."
Luke wanted to say
to hell with Isabelle!
but the words wouldn't come up as far as his throat. No matter how low he sank, that part of his life was too sacred to curse. "They're so caught up in their fantasy world, they can't see the reality around them. They're too afraid to admit things have changed, that nothing is the way it used to be."
"Otto's not afraid of anything," Zeke said. "Elvira is afraid of everything."
"She wouldn't be if you'd stop terrorizing her."
"I'll stop terrorizing her if you'll stop coddling the princess."
"Her name is Valeria. When have I coddled her?"
"I heard you got the miners to be quiet when they passed her window."
"I was trying to annoy her."
"That's a strange way to annoy someone."
"If you're trying to say something, spit it out and get to bed. Tomorrow will be worse than today."
"Don't let yourself go soft on her. Her kind will never see people like us as anything except servants." "You mean slaves, don't you?"
Zeke's features hardened. "I know what it's like to be thought of as worth less than a good milk cow. To her we're peasants to work in the field, servants to fetch and carry, so much cannon fodder to die on the battlefield. She'd never consider marrying one of us."
Zeke's words blindsided Luke. The idea of marrying anyone, least of all someone like Valeria, was so preposterous his anger evaporated, and he laughed. "If that's what you think, you've been in the sun too long. Remind me to ask Valeria if she's got an extra parasol."
"Make a joke if you want," Zeke said, "but I've worked with you on more than one job. This one's different. Maybe you're not going sweet on her, but whatever it is will put us in danger if you don't watch out."
"I'll watch out. I don't want to lose my hide any more than you do."
"Sometimes I think that's exactly what you want," Zeke said. He turned and walked off.
Luke was at a loss to understand Zeke's meaning. He had done everything he could to make certain he had the edge on anyone who might come up against him. He took great pride in having been wounded only twice in his career, neither time seriously. He sometimes took chances that might seem overly dangerous to someone else, but he'd learned long ago that doing the unexpected was often the safest way out of a difficult situation.
He had an uneasy feeling that he would need all of his expertise on this trip. Valeria was the wrong kind of person for Arizona. He could see no logical reason why an ex-princess with her wealth would want to live in such an out-of-the-way place. He didn't know much about fine china, silver flatware, and crystal goblets-he'd been uninterested when Isabelle tried to teach the boys about such things-but he knew the money represented by her belongings would have supported a small town for several years.
His instincts had served him well over the years. The minute he'd set eyes on Valeria, they had told him this job didn't feel right. He should have kept going when he walked out of her hotel room. He could think of no reason why he'd let Hans talk him into staying. Or why he had talked three other men out of accepting Otto's offer. He could talk about pride and reputation all he wanted, but he knew what made this time different.
Valeria.
He should have been furious at her. And he was. He should have scorned everything she stood for. And he did. He should have lost patience with her ignorance and reluctance to make even minimal changes in her ritual. And he had. He should have turned his back, walked out, and left her high and dry.
He hadn't.
It would have been the same as abandoning children. They knew nothing about the new world they had entered. They were trying to live, act, and think as they always had. While that was understandable up to a point, anyone could see they would have to make substantial alternations in every aspect of their lives.
At times Luke wondered if it was fear that made them hold on to the past so grimly. They'd always been in control, but now that was the one thing they didn't have.
Hans accepted the fact that they'd lost their source of power, but he expected the old-world traditions to be perpetuated. Luke couldn't be sure what Otto thought. He figured he was one of the opportunists to be found about any court, clinging to the past because it provided him an opportunity to pluck rich rewards without having to break a sweat.
Then there was Valeria. In a way she was the most obvious and at the same time the most enigmatic. She'd been raised to provide her husband a loyal consort, to bear his children, to be an ornament to his position, and to accept all of that without question. No thinking required. Individuality discouraged. Conformity rewarded.
Yet Luke was certain she'd inwardly disliked being treated like a priceless jewel to be taken out for display and tucked safely away when she wasn't needed. Now she'd been cast out of her familiar setting without any preparation for her new life.
It was as if she'd been kept in the dark her whole life and was suddenly brought into blinding light. No wonder she couldn't see clearly. Even familiar things would have a new meaning. She must feel fear, a reluctance to venture too far. At the same time she would feel curiosity, a desire to explore the uncharted.
Valeria was an innocent standing on the edge of great discovery. Great care had to be exercised to make certain she didn't fall and do permanent injury before she had a chance to run.
Nice, idealistic, altruistic. Isabelle would have loved it. It was just the kind of thing she'd tried to pound into the boys during the few years they'd all been at the ranch. Apparently she'd been successful. All but three of them were back in Texas, living within a day's ride of each other, raising families, becoming the solid citizens Isabelle had envisioned when she started out from Austin to find homes for eight incorrigible orphans.
Luke's brother, Chet, had believed. Maybe it worked for him. Luke didn't know. He hadn't been back to the ranch since he'd left more than fifteen years ago. Chet had been able to escape the curse of their blood. Luke hadn't.
Which didn't explain why he should suddenly want to save a woman who'd lived an equally useless and selfish life. Valeria used other people without regard for their feelings or well-being. She lived off the toil of others and considered herself more praiseworthy because of it. At least he only used people. He knew he was worse than they were.
He didn't understand why he should care about this woman's fate. She was beautiful, but he could have all the beautiful women he wanted. He hadn't seen any fine inner character to preserve and liberate. No great intellect, no grand passion to accomplish something, no enduring love lost and longed for. No reason why he should treat her any different from any other woman.
But he had. He could only assume it was a quirk. Maybe one of Isabelle's lessons was trying to take hold. Yet it didn't really matter why he was acting so uncharacteristically. The job would come to an end and he would leave Valeria to her fate. He would have nothing to do with whether she changed or remained the same.
Yet he knew that if she didn't change, he would be disappointed. And that in itself was strange. He was never disappointed in people because he never expected anything of them.
"They've finally stopped washing those damned dishes," Zeke called. "Now we can get some sleep."
"You shouldn't be close enough to be bothered by the noise," Luke called back.
"An army troop could ambush us under cover of that racket," Zeke replied.
Valeria felt as though she hadn't slept at all. She'd asked Elvira to wake her at four o'clock. She'd expected to need at least an hour to get dressed, and it had taken every minute of that time. Bathing from a basin had been difficult enough, but it had been nearly impossible to see anything in the dim light of the one oil lamp Luke allowed them. At home sunlight pouring in through tall windows was supplemented by banks of gaslights, which she preferred to the new electric lights other rulers were putting in their homes.
The tent had no windows. The air felt heavy and muggy. By the time Elvira had finished helping her dress, Valeria was hot. She was relieved to be able to go outside. The coolness of the night still lingered.
She laughed to herself when she saw Otto, appearing far from his usually impeccably attired self, hovering impatiently near the table set for breakfast. He caught sight of her and came forward.
"The chef is furious," he said. "He's threatening to leave."