San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance) (12 page)

He stiffened. "Why?"

"I do not know. It just seems that our lives
have become intertwined. I did not want it to
be so, but it happened."

Ian had a sudden, horrible thought. "Tell me
quickly, what happened to the women and children who were in the Alamo?"

"Most of them left days ago. There was one
American woman and her daughter who remained with her husband. I am sorry, but I do
not know her name. Santa Anna spared them
and provided an escort to see them to safety."

"And I suppose, in your eyes, that makes him
a compassionate man."

"I will not discuss Santa Anna with you."

He jerked on the reins and turned the horse
northward, away from the burning funeral
pyre, away from death and destruction.

Emerada could feel the tension in Ian. She
leaned back against him, and felt his unsteady
intake of breath. He was grieving for his fallen
friends, and she was grieving for the dead on
both sides of the war.

She rested her head against his shoulder, enveloped by his strong arms. She took a deep
breath, wishing she could be absorbed into his
body so she would feel no more pain.

He shoved her forward as if her touch was
unwelcome. Emerada smothered a sob. Ian
thought he was escaping with Santa Anna's
mistress.

They had been riding for hours before Ian
thought it would be safe to stop. He dismounted, holding his arms up for Emerada,
and she slid into them. He quickly set her on
her feet.

Ian saw Emerada stagger and catch her balance. She must be tired, but knowing her, she'd
probably rather die than say so.

Ian had expected her to plead with him to release her, but she hadn't. Apparently she had
accepted whatever her fate would be at his
hands. He was raging inside. He could never
forgive himself for neglecting his duty. Even so,
there was something within him that made
him want to reach out and comfort Emerada.
It didn't matter that Santa Anna was her lover;
she still fascinated him.

Emerada leaned against a tree and gazed
back the way they'd come. "There is food in the
saddlebag if you are hungry," she told him.

"Are you hungry?"

"I couldn't eat a bite." She gave a weary sigh
and dropped down on the ground. "I just can't
get the sight of all those men out of my mind.
I see the horror of it even when I close my
eyes."

"Did you betray Travis and Bowie?"

"You would not believe me no matter what I
told you."

"No. I wouldn't"

Emerada looked into the clear sky that
sparkled with stars. "It is difficult to believe
that so many men died today, men who
watched the sun come up this morning, but
who will never see another sunrise."

"Well camp here. It's as good a place as any,"
Ian said gruffly. He unstrapped the saddlebag
and tossed it on the ground. She had thought
of everything. There was even a rifle with a box
of bullets and two canteens of water.

Emerada silently watched him.

After he'd unsaddled and hobbled the horse,
he sat beside her, rummaging through the saddlebag for food. "I dare not light a fire, because
someone might see it."

Still she said nothing.

He found two hard biscuits and handed one
to her.

She shook her head. "Could I use enough
water to wash my hands?"

"Just like a woman," he mumbled. He
handed her a canteen.

"It's just that I was helping with the wounded
today and the blood..." She shuddered. "I
didn't take time to wash because I had to get
you out of camp."

Ian felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach.
He took the canteen and poured the water for
her. She let the water run through her fingers and onto the ground. "I feel like Pilate," she
whispered, rubbing her hands together. "I will
never get the blood off my hands."

"We all have blood on our hands, Emerada,"
Ian said, wondering what guilt had brought
about such a revelation. "With the passing of
time, perhaps we will both find absolution."

Emerada could feel a sob building up within
her. She hadn't cried at all during the horrible
attack on the Alamo. Now she couldn't seem to
stop. She leaned her head against the tree, and
the tears flowed freely.

She felt Ian bend down next to her and awkwardly place his hand on her shoulder. "You
are so young to have witnessed such a sight. It
wasn't your doing."

She shoved his hand away and stood up,
glaring at him. "No, it was not my fault! I leave
the killing and defacing of the land to soldiers
such as you. You should look to yourself, and
to men like you, for the answers."

A muscle tightened in his jaw. "Your lover
won today, but at a terrible cost."

Emerada walked away from him and rested
her head against the trunk of a tree, hurting
terribly inside. If she had it all to do over again,
would she still take the same path? Yes, she
would. She hadn't been beaten yet. Of course,
it might be difficult to explain to Santa Anna
why she and Ian had disappeared at the same
time. He would surely be suspicious.

She took in a deep breath and stared up ward. To get Santa Anna to trust her again, she
would have to let him make love to her. She
shivered as she thought of his hands on her, his
lips on hers.

How would she bear it?

Emerada was prepared to do anything to destroy Santa Anna. She would even sacrifice her
beliefs, bury her conscience deep, and remember only that the man must be destroyed. She
would have to become what Ian already
thought she was-Santa Anna's mistress.

A short time later, she retraced her steps and
found that Ian had piled up grass and was
spreading a blanket over it.

"It'll be softer than the ground," he said without looking up. "I'm afraid we will have to
share the blanket, since we only have the one."

"I didn't expect to be going with you, so I did
not bring one for myself," she reminded him
dryly.

"Make yourself comfortable. I am going to
see to the horse."

"I packed oats in the leather bag."

"It seems you thought of everything," he said
bitingly.

Emerada lay down on the soft bed of grass,
pulled the blanket over her, and thought it felt
better than a bed with Santa Anna's silk sheets
on it. She turned onto her side, thinking that
this had been the longest day of her life. Would
she ever be able to sleep without seeing all
those dead faces? She squeezed her eyes to gether tightly, but she trembled with fear. She
needed someone to hold her, someone to assure her that this long night would pass and tomorrow would bring an end to the terrible war.

But would it?

When Ian returned, he lay down beside her.
She offered him part of the blanket and moved
as far away from him as she could get while
still keeping her share of the blanket. He could
not know that she ached for him to reach out
to her, to draw her into his arms and hold her
until she could stop trembling.

"Did you steal the horse?" he asked after a
long, awkward silence. "Or did your lover give
him to you?"

She ran her fingers through her hair, trying
to remove some of the tangles. "I did not steal
it. As to the other, you have already drawn your
own conclusion."

He ignored her anger. He needed to talk, and
it didn't matter what he said or what she answered. "He's a fine horse. Must have cost
someone a hatful of gold."

"My-er...I once knew a family who raised
blooded horses. Soledad is from their herd."

"Soledad? Why did you name a horse
`Lonely'?"

"When he was a colt, he did not want to be
with the other horses. But he would follow-"
She broke off for a moment. "He would follow
the owner's daughter around like a faithful
puppy. It was quite a sight."

He could tell she was troubled, and he was
trying to take her mind off the battle today. He
had been hard on her, and he was feeling guilty
for that.

"It's a wonder the daughter could give him
up, since he was so faithful to her."

"Life is full of difficulties." She turned over
onto her side again and closed her eyes. "I want
to sleep now."

Ian knew she would have trouble sleeping,
just as he would. He had loaded the rifle earlier,
and he placed it within easy reach. There were
bound to be deserters spread throughout the
hills, and he didn't intend to be surprised by
one of them.

He heard Emerada sigh and had the
strongest urge to reach out and touch her, to
bring her some semblance of comfort. "If they
knew my bed partner, I would be the envy of
every man in Texas and Mexico tonight."

She knew him well enough by now to guess
that he was going to say something insulting.
"Believe me, you are just one of many," she
replied, hoping to nettle him. "I am practiced
at lovemaking, as you have probably guessed."

"I'm not surprised," he murmured, wondering why he was so angry. "You know too much
about men not to have learned it in the bedroom."

"That does not mean that I will welcome any
unwanted attention from you," she said hur riedly, hoping she hadn't given him the wrong
impression. "I choose my men carefully."

"Go to sleep, San Antonio Rose; you are safe
with me. I have never been one to fancy another man's leavings, especially not if that man
is Santa Anna."

No one could make her as mad as Ian. "I
never invited you to my bed, and I never will. I
pick and choose whom I take for a lover."

He turned his back with a jerky motion, and
she smiled. She had gotten under his skin at
last, even if she had told a lie to do it.

In her sleep, Emerada gravitated toward the
warmth of Ian's body. She fit into the curve of
his arms and sighed contentedly when she
snuggled tighter against him.

Her silken hair fell across his face, and he
could smell some sweet, exotic scent. Carefully
he reached up with the intention of removing
her hair from his cheek, but when he touched
the silken strand, he caressed it, loverlike.

His body came alive as if someone had lit a
fire inside him. Since the first moment he'd
seen her in Houston's camp, he'd wanted to kiss
those defiant lips. He wanted to crush her in his
arms, awaken her passion, to make her feel
some of the torment she'd put him through.

Ian lowered the strand of hair from his lips, his body trembling. She stirred something
within him that burned through his whole
being.

Emerada moved her face, and her lips were
only inches from his. He could feel her breath
on his mouth, and he sat up quickly to keep
from taking her into his arms.

She merely moaned in her sleep without
waking. Arranging the blanket over her so it
would be a double thickness, he walked down
the hill to where the horse was tethered, needing to put some distance between himself and
Emerada. This dancer who admitted to being
with many men had fired his passion as no
other woman ever had. He stood for a long moment, trying to clear his mind.

What strange circumstance put him and
Emerada on the same path? he wondered.
What twist of fate made him want her so badly
that it hurt?

He heard a twig snap and gazed up the hill
where Emerada slept, thinking she might have
awakened. She was sitting up, probably awakened by the same noise he'd heard. Perhaps it
was only an animal.

Damn it, he'd left the gun behind!

Taking care to remain in the shadows, Ian
climbed the hill. He couldn't be sure it was an
animal, and Emerada was alone.

Emerada looked around for Ian, thinking his
movement must have awakened her. She wasn't concerned. He would hardly have forced her to
come with him and then abandoned her here in
the wilderness.

"Well, well, Burt, lookee here at what we got
us," a man remarked, stepping from behind a
laurel bush and squinting at her in the half darkness. He was soon joined by his companion.

"We got ourselves a little senorita, Gip. Hey,
honey, you all alone out here?"

Emerada jumped to her feet, frantically looking about for Ian. The strangers had the appearance of buffalo hunters, but they were too
far south to hunt those shaggy beasts. Fear
tugged at her mind as one man stepped in front
of her and took her chin in his grimy hand,
turning her face to the moonlight.

"You're a real beauty," Burt said, his gaze
raking her delicate face. "I ain't never had me
no woman as pretty as you."

"I get her after you, Gip," Burt said, dipping
down and scooping up the rifle Ian had left behind. "I'm gonna have me a real good time with
her."

Emerada was frozen in place. She should
have run when she had the chance. The filthy
man ran one hand over her breasts, pinching
and kneading until she winced in pain.

"Please do not do that, senor," she said, shuddering in revulsion. She tried to back away
from him, but his grip merely tightened.