Renegade Love (Rancheros) (3 page)

“Find another woman, Father, she will not do.”

Esteban’s calm response puzzled Alejandro. “I cannot do that. The papers have been signed and the money paid. She will be shamed if you back out of the arrangement.”

“Better shamed than to spend the rest of her life in hell,” Esteban spat.

Alejandro’s expression betrayed the sadness he felt for his son. Why did he insist on torturing himself over the past? It was over and finished. Nothing could be done about it.

Esteban casually lowered himself to the wooden chair a few feet in front of his father’s desk. “How many fathers in the valley have turned down your offer of marriage before you were forced to turn to the peasants?”

Alejandro cleared his throat. “Let me think on that.”

“There’s no need to think, Father. You know the answer, but allow me to remind you. Every hacienda that has a daughter of marriageable age turned you down.”

“Rosa is the best choice anyway,” Alejandro defended.

Esteban loosened the restricting tie at his throat. He hated wearing it and the memories of confinement it brought him. “She is the only choice... is she not?”

Alejandro stared at his son, watching as his long fingers spread the stark white material of his shirt away from his neck. He recalled Esteban’s words when he first returned to the hacienda. They were meant to shock, but they hurt Alejandro much more than his son would ever know.

A rope was kept around my neck for Pacquito to lead me around like a captured animal.

“Are you listening, Father?”

Alejandro shook away the heartbreaking image of his young son’s suffering. “I’m listening and yes, she is the only one, but the best one and that is no lie.”

Esteban stood and stared at his father, his dark eyes disquieting in their blank stare and his sharp angled features boldly handsome as he spoke in defiance. “I will not marry her.”

“Perhaps if you meet her you will change your mind,” the soft voice suggested from behind.

Esteban turned to find his mother, Valerianna entering the room. Her beauty never failed to touch his heart. She looked almost as she did fourteen years ago. Only a few lines and wrinkles touched her face, though didn’t distract from her attractiveness and her dark hair bore not a trace of gray. Her figure was still trim and fit, her stance regal, making her appear taller than her six inches over five feet. He loved her dearly and that was why he found it so difficult being around her. She was a lady and he was no longer a gentleman.

“It matters not, Mother, I will not marry her,” Esteban said and walked away from her to stand behind the desk near the window.

Dona Valerianna’s smile turned sad and Alejandro’s heart went out to her. She had tried so hard since their son’s return to recapture the closeness they had once shared. But Esteban had rebuffed all attempts. And his obvious rejection had cut deeply.

“I think this marriage would be good for the both of you,” Dona Valerianna said, bringing a smile to her husband’s lips. He loved her stubborn nature and was glad the years hadn’t diminished it.

Esteban looked from one to the other. “I will not marry. And tell me have you arranged for a marriage for my sister as well.” His sister, Crista, had been only two years old when he had been captured. He hadn’t been surprised to learn that she had been sent to Spain when she was ten to be educated, though what she would be taught in a Spanish convent would do her little good here.

“Crista has been schooled well and will do her duty when the time comes,” Alejandro said. “And I will do my duty as a father and see her wed to a good man as I see you wed to a good woman. Now, I have signed the papers. You are committed to this marriage.” Alejandro looked to his wife for support.

“He’s right, Esteban. It is done. The arrangements have been made. You will wed Rosa Mendez here on Saturday, out in the garden, the ceremony to be performed by Padre Marten.”

Alejandro took a deep breathe to deliver the final blow. “You will be introduced to her and her guardians this evening. They are joining us for supper.”

Esteban’s portentous glare pinned first his father and then his mother to where they sat and sent shivers through them. He walked from the room without uttering a word, his silence being far more potent than words.

Dona Valerianna dropped her head until her chin almost touched her chest. She brought her slim fingers up to her mouth to help hold back the choked sobs caught in her throat.

Alejandro hurried to his wife’s side. He took her hands in his and lifted her chin. The unshed tears pooling in her eyes tore at his heart. “Do not worry, my dear. This marriage is right for him. I know it. I can feel it in my heart. Rosa will be good for him.

Dona Valerianna’s smile was weak and her words barely a whisper, “But will he be good for her?”

~~~

The swinging strap caught Rosa’s arm and she winced as she braced herself not to fall.

“I told you to wear your hair up like a proper engaged woman should,” Roberto screamed, his face red with fury. “You look the whore with your hair loose and free. Now pin it up and back and behave as you should. I will not be shamed by your thoughtless actions tonight.”

Lola added her own rebuke. “And that dress looks shabby, though I suppose it must do. You can’t wear your church clothes, the blue skirt and white blouse are too plain for such a grand occasion.”

Rosa rubbed her arm and felt the welt already beginning to rise beneath the lace of the pale blue dress she wore. I’ll see to my hair.”

“And make it quick,” Lola snapped. “We don’t want to be late.”

Rosa went to her room, a small shack behind the house. She was close to tears, uncertain if it was from the Curro’s cruelty or the ordeal she was about to face. The dress had belonged to her mother, and although the lace had faded to the palest of blues, Rosa always thought of it as lovely. It hugged her small frame perfectly, accenting her large breasts and trim waist. The lace ran high up over her chest to cup her throat and ran down her arms to fall gracefully along the back of her hand in a series of graduated ruffles.

Her mother had worn it for special occasions and her appearance would always bring a broad smile to her father’s face. She brushed at the few tears that spilled from her eyes. Now was not the time to lose control. She needed her wits about her tonight.

She combed her hair back, twisting it up, and secured it tightly in the back with two dark combs. The severe effect of the style brought out her innocence and natural beauty, highlighting her flushed cheeks, damp eyes, and generous lips tainted a soft pink from the berries she loved to eat as she picked them.

She was ready. She could delay no longer the night’s event rushing to meet her. She glanced at the wooden cross hanging on the wall above the chest that held her few meager possessions and blessed herself, bringing her folded fingers to her lips as she prayed, “Please,
Madre
, please help me.”

“Perhaps you should finish dressing,” Dona Valerianna suggested to her son. “The Curros and Rosalita will be here shortly.”

Esteban swirled the dark red wine in the crystal glass he held firmly in his right hand. He kept his eyes on the swirling liquid as he answered his mother. “I am dressed.”

Dona Valerianna sent her husband, impeccably outfitted in dusty gray, a pleading look. He shook his head and frowned, a signal that advised her not to pursue the matter.

“If my appearance shames you, I can beg to be excused for the evening,” Esteban said well aware of the silent exchange that had passed between his parents.

Dona Valerianna was conciliatory. “No, not at all. Your attire is adequate.”

Esteban raised his glass in a salute. “Thank you, Mother.”

Dona Valerianna attempted a smile, though not successfully. It barely reached her lips before disappearing.

Alejandro swallowed the remainder of his wine and poured another. This was going to be a difficult evening. Even though Esteban looked splendid in his black, tight-fitting pants and bolero jacket, his white linen shirt remained open at the throat, an obvious impropriety and one Esteban had no intentions of correcting. And if either Alejandro or Valerianna pursued the matter, Esteban would take his leave.

Alejandro hoped that his son’s improper behavior would not be the center of village gossip the next day, though knowing the Curros, he held little doubt that their tongues would remain silent.

“Excuse me, Don Alejandro, the guests have arrived,” Dolores, the Cesare’s longtime housekeeper announced from the doorway.

Esteban remembered Dolores well, and though she had aged and grown a bit plumper, she still wore her usual vibrant smile and delicious scents still clung to her. He had visited her often in the kitchen when he was young and she would always have his favorite sweet treat ready for him. He had not visited her there since his return, but she had not forgotten his penchant for sweet cakes and cookies. Every night when he returned to his quarters a plate of his favorite sweet treats waited on the table beside his bed. And he was more appreciative of her thoughtful gesture than she would ever know.

Dona Valerianna hurried to stand and straighten pale pink layers of lace that draped softly from her waist to her feet, while pink linen completed the top portion of the dress. She brushed back the sides of her dark hair to make certain no strands had fallen loose from the intricate braid fastened at the back of her head.

“Ready?” she asked, her cheeks flushed with anticipation and concern.

“Ready,” Alejandro said walking over and holding out his arm to her.

She greedily grasped hold of it for support.

Esteban stared with angry eyes at his parents, then stormed past them and out of the room.

“Alejandro what are we to do?” Valerianna clutched his hand.

“We will do our best as always, my dear,” he said. “I’m sure Esteban will realize his rudeness and join us, extending an apology for his lateness.

Dona Valerianna didn’t even attempt a smile this time. Her son might decide to join them, as to whether he would offer an apology, she had her doubts, though she did have hope.

~~~

Rosa stood in awe of her surroundings. She had heard of the Cesare’s wealth, though thought the gossip fanciful tales to entertain. The stark white-washed walls were graced with gorgeous tapestries depicting various places in Spain. The chest, chairs, and tables were dark, richly polished wood. The candle stands, some over five feet tall, were of intricately designed metal shapes. The tall narrow windows, six in all, opened out to the courtyard, abundant with a variety of flowers, their fragrant scents drifting throughout the room.

A jab to her ribs brought her wandering attention back.

“Mind your musings,” Lola scolded.

Rosa nodded and respectfully lowered her eyes along with her head. Footsteps on the tile floor outside the room ran a shiver through her. She had feared this moment for hours. She did not wish to look on Esteban Cesare’s empty, brooding eyes again.

“I am so pleased that you could join us this evening,” Alejandro said entering the room. “Please allow me to introduce my wife Dona Valerianna.” After he introduced her to Roberto and Lola, Alejandro introduced his wife to Rosa.

Rosa brought her head up slowly and was surprised when Dona Valerianna reached out and took her hand.

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you, my dear. I know you will find much happiness here with us.”

Rosa forced a brief smile. Dona Valerianna was a beautiful, gracious woman who appeared sincere in her welcome, though Rosa could not help but notice that again a reference was made to her finding happiness here... but not with their son Esteban.
Madre di Dios
. What was she getting herself into?

“Where is this son of yours who is lucky to be getting our Rosalita as his wife?” Roberto asked his smile curious.

“Right here.”

The foreboding voice had everyone turning hastily, except Rosa. She turned reluctantly and kept her eyes downcast.

Esteban stepped out of the shadows in the corner of the room and Valerianna smiled at him. He had fastened his shirt at his throat. The simple, kind act brought a tear to her eye. She quickly wiped it away not wishing to display her emotions in front of her guests.

Esteban offered no apology or reason for not being there to greet them. He accepted Roberto’s hand and Lola’s smile with an indifferent nod.

“This is my son, Esteban,” Alejandro said proudly and placed his hands on Rosa’s shoulder to gently guide her to stand before her future husband. “Esteban, I’m pleased to have you met Rosalita, your soon-to-be wife.”

Rosa raised her eyes slightly, not enough to see his face only his neck, slim and kissed by endless hours in the sun. She stared at a spot just above his collar that pulsed slightly and the more she focused on it the faster it pulsed, as if something inside him beat to a heated rhythm. She felt a blush rise and quickly lowered her eyes. She kept her hands straight at her sides and buried in the folds of her dress, so he would not reach out and take them in his.

The room remained silent and Rosa held her breath waiting for him to speak. She focused on the scuffed tips of his black boots as they remained steady and only a mere inch from the hem of her dress. The strain of the awkward situation had her eyes misting, and she took a moment to close them hoping to clear the unease so no one would suspect her of crying. Otherwise she would suffer Roberto’s hard hand when they got home for embarrassing him.

She was not sure of the proper manners in such a situation and wondered how to react to his silence or if she should.

She opened her eyes and no scuffed boots brushed the hem of her dress. He was gone. She raised her head slightly noticing all in the room stared at Esteban as he filled a glass of wine for himself at the sideboard spread with crystal wine bottles and platters of cheese and freshly cut fruit.

The wide-opened mouths of Roberto and Lola told Alejandro that the news of Esteban’s rudeness would be all over the village by the next day. And he fought to correct his son’s error. “A good idea, Esteban, a toast to the new bride.”