San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance) (19 page)

Santa Anna's eyes gleamed with pleasure,
and he opened the door to a weary courier,
who must have ridden hard to bring him the
news.

"Then my orders have been carried out,"
Santa Anna said with a satisfied nod of his
head. "Bueno! Bueno! One by one, step by step,
I will drive the Americans out of my country. Their blood will mix with the soil that they
strive to steal from Mexico."

Emerada paled. The death and destruction
continued. For all she knew, Ian could be
among the dead. Houston had sent him to the
Alamo; he might very well have sent him to
Goliad.

She had to find out!

The sun had just reached its zenith when
Emerada halted her horse and turned to
Domingo. "Houston is camped below. Ride
back to Santa Anna as fast as you can, and do
whatever you must to keep him from becoming
suspicious. If he asks where I am, tell him you
do not know. I will think up something convincing to tell him by the time I get back."

"I do not like leaving you." He gazed down at
the tents that dotted the grounds of the Groce
plantation. "It is no longer safe for you to travel
alone."

She placed her gloved hand over his. "I must
do this, Domingo. If I were a man, you would
not question me for doing my duty."

He nodded, turned his horse, and rode away.

Emerada nudged her mount forward and
rode in the direction of the plantation. When
she saw two men near one of the tents, she
wondered whether they would know if Ian was
safe. Something like a physical pain stabbed at
her heart. She had never intended to see Ian
again, and now she was afraid he was dead.

The soldiers knew Emerada on sight and
waved her through. One of them, with strawcolored hair and long, lanky arms, respectfully
removed his hat and pointed toward the house.
"The general ain't here right now, but Colonel
McCains over to the creek, ma'am."

Her heart stopped, and she couldn't speak
past the tightening in her throat. She swallowed twice and asked, "When do you expect
General Houston to return?"

The second man wiped the sweat from his
face on his sleeve. "Can't rightly say. The general don't tell me his business, and I don't ask."

With dread in her heart, Emerada followed
the man's directions to the creek, knowing she
would have to face Ian after all. With Houston
away, she'd have to tell someone her news, and
Ian was the only one who knew about her
arrangement with Houston.

When Emerada reached the creek, she saw
Ian talking to several other men. He was so engrossed in their conversation that he didn't
even know she was there. She dismounted and
looped the reins over the narrow branch of a wild pecan tree. She waited for him to acknowledge her, wishing she could mount her
horse and ride away.

She hadn't expected it to be so painful to see
him again.

It was a hot day, and a dry wind stirred
through Ian's dark hair-she knew the feel of
his hair, since she'd run her fingers through it
when he'd held her in his arms. Ian's voice was
suddenly raised in anger, and she remembered
how softly he had spoken to her the night they
had made love.

Her gaze moved over him lovingly. He wore
his uniform trousers, but his jacket was tossed
aside, and his white shirt was open at the neck
with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. One
muscled leg was propped on a fallen log, and
her gaze went to the hand that rested on his
knee. She was overwhelmed with weakness as
she remembered those hands touching her. She
could almost feel them on her now.

Dear God, she thought in a panic, her heart
thundering inside her. Don't let me feel, don't let
me remember how it was between us, not now!

Anger laced Ian's words as he spoke to the
men. "I'm only going to say this once, so listen
well. If you don't like the way General Houston
commands this army, then get on your horse
and leave now! I'd rather have one reliable man
at my side than twelve malcontents."

"Now, Ian, we aren't complaining, we just don't understand why the general's giving the
appearance of running from Santa Anna. We
want to fight that son of a-"

The man broke off and stared at Emerada.
He then hurriedly whispered to Ian. Coldly, Ian
looked over his shoulder at her.

Emerada could feel the chill of Ian's stare,
but she forced herself to walk toward him.

"We'll take this up later," Ian told the men,
and dismissed them with a nod.

When the men passed by Emerada, they
smiled and tipped their hats. She waited for
them to be out of earshot before she turned her
attention to Ian. She had to face him now, before she lost her nerve. "I hoped to speak to
General Houston, but I was told he is away."

Ian studied her silently. Emerada was the
last person he'd expected to see there. "I'm always at your service," he said. "How can I help
you, Senorita de la Rosa?"

He was stiff and reserved, and it hurt to see
him that way, but there was nothing she could
say to satisfy his anger. "I have ill tidings, Ian.
I am sorry to be the bearer of such grave
news."

He glanced at: her lathered mount. "It seems
you didn't spare your horse getting here. What
can be so important that you would ride that
poor animal into the ground? Dare I hope you
want to replay the little performance you gave
me that night at Talavera?"

She wanted to strike out at him, to answer his cruelty with the same ruthlessness he displayed, but she held her temper and stared into
his eyes.

"I rode all night to get here, and I am weary,
Ian. I do not have time to spar with you or answer such absurd questions."

His voice was suddenly silky smooth. "What
I have in mind won't take all that long."

She curled her hand into a fist, and her rebellious spirit took over. "There are more important things to discuss than what happened
between us, Ian."

"What could be more important?"

"Men dying." Emerada went to the creek and
cupped her hands, drinking thirstily, giving
herself time to regain her composure. At last
she stood up and turned back to him.

"What I have to tell you is important." The
heat was so intense that she felt light-headed,
and she almost stumbled, but caught herself in
time. "I would have preferred to tell General
Houston, but you will have to do."

He put out his hand, indicating she should
precede him to stand beneath the shade of a
pecan tree.

Emerada leaned against the rough bark and
swallowed several times. She really did feel
sick to her stomach. Her hands were trembling, but she didn't know if it was from weariness or from being so near Ian.

He let out a long breath. "What is your news,
Emerada?"

She met his gaze. "Do you know a man called
Fannin?"

The expression of arrogance left his face, and
his eyes took on a look of concern. "Yes, I know
him. Why?"

She brushed a curl from her face and wished
she had another sip of water. "There is no easy
way to tell you. Fannin and his men were killed
at Goliad," she whispered.

Ian gazed upward at the branches, and she
would have thought he was unaffected by her
words if it hadn't been for the tightening of his
jaw. "Are you certain of this information?"

"I was with Santa Anna when the messenger
arrived from Goliad with the news."

He dipped his head and looked at her for a
long, poignant moment. "Can you possibly be
telling the truth? If I believed you, would I be
courting disaster?" He clamped his hands on
her shoulders and brought her closer to him. "I
know Houston has decided to trust you, Emerada, but I don't. I no longer believe the fable
you wove about Santa Anna having your family
murdered. You used your story to gain my
sympathy and to earn my trust. Well, it didn't
work."

"You are a fool," she spat out. "I will not
squander my time on such as you, Ian McCain."

"I've had time to think and weigh the story
you told me that night, Emerada. You were in
the dictator's pocket then, and you still are." He
glanced at her and shook his head. "I have to admit that you are the best weapon Santa Anna
has."

She was losing her patience. She knew Ian
was speaking from hurt pride and nothing
more. "What could I possibly have to gain by
contriving such a story?"

"Damn it! Houston ordered Fannin to abandon Fort Defiance. He would not disobey orders. I don't believe you."

"Just like he ordered Travis to leave the
Alamo? There seems to be wide insubordination in the ranks, Ian McCain."

"Why would Fannin disobey Houston?"

"I do not know about such things. But here
is more information you might want to pass
on to Houston. Santa Anna has ordered that
every foreigner with a gun in his hand is to be
executed."

Ian seemed to have a hard time finding his
voice. "If you know that much, perhaps you
can tell me how Fannin died?"

"I heard the courier tell Santa Anna about
his death." She shuddered, thinking she was
going to be sick, right there in front of Ian. "Do
not make me tell you."

"The general will want to know," he insisted.

She drew in a deep breath. "Very well. Fannin and his men were held captive for a week,
having surrendered with the agreement that
they would be taken prisoner and not shot."
She lowered her gaze, feeling shame for the
unchivalrous manner in which Fannin and his men had died. "They were executed without
mercy."

Ian closed his eyes for a moment, and when
he opened them, Emerada saw the unleashed
anger reflected there.

"There is something more, Ian."

"Yes?"

"Santa Anna believes the war is all but over.
Soon he will come at you with everything he
has."

He walked away from her and stood at the
edge of the creek. "Let him come. We're ready
for him."

"No," she said, walking over to him. "I do not
know what Houston is doing, but it appears to
me, and to Santa Anna, that he is running
away. And, from the conversation I overheard
when I came up, it would appear some of your
men believe it also."

"The general will fight on his own terms.
When he is ready, he will engage your Santa
Anna, but not before."

"He is not my Santa Anna!"

"Is he not?" In a sudden move, Ian pulled her
into his arms. "Has he made love to you? Has
he tasted the sweetness of your lips, as I once
did?"

She shoved against him, and he dropped his
arms.

"What happens between me and Santa Anna
is none of your affair," she replied in reprisal. "One night with you does not give you any
right to question what I do."

"Perhaps not," he whispered, "but it was certainly a pleasant diversion for a few hours." He
saw her face whiten, and he wondered why he
was deliberately trying to humiliate her. With
forced composure, he changed the subject.
"Just think about this, Emerada. The next time
we meet Santa Anna, it will be on our terms
and in a place Houston chooses."

She walked to her horse and turned back to
him. "Tell Houston to choose soon, or all his
men will desert him and Santa Anna will sweep
over you like he did the walls of the Alamo."

Neither of them saw the man walking toward
them until he drew even with Emerada.

"The lady makes a lot of sense, Ian," Houston
said, giving her an encouraging smile.

"Sir," Ian said. "Your little spy has been
telling me a concocted story about Fannin."

Houston seemed to age before their eyes,
and he gave Ian a disapproving glance. "If this
gracious lady told you that Fannin and all his
men are dead, believe her-it's true."

Ian turned his head toward the creek and
stared at the rushing water, feeling like an utter
fool. He'd allowed his jealousy of Emerada to
rule his thinking. She had ridden all night to
bring them the news. He had offered her neither food nor a place to rest. He staggered
under the weight of his guilt. Emerada was valuable to Houston, and he had treated her
like a whore.

"Senor Houston," Emerada said, looking at
him in desperation. "I have come to plead with
you to do something soon, or all will be lost."

"Emerada, do you trust me?" he asked her
kindly.

"It is not a matter of trust. I am trying to decide if you are a man of greatness or a coward."

Houston chuckled. Few people ever spoke to
him so candidly, and he found it refreshing.
"So you have heard the stories that call me a
coward, Emerada? History is every man's
judge-let it be mine as well."

"Everyone is talking about your running
away," she said with honesty. "I believe you are
misguided, but you are not a coward. You are
giving Santa Anna the advantage when you
run, and he is laughing at you."

Houston nodded. "I've heard that my actions
are being referred to as the `Runaway Scrape.'"

"I have heard that, too," Emerada admitted.