San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance) (30 page)

When the coach reached the outskirts of San
Antonio, Emerada was surprised to see all the
new buildings. Of course, when they entered
the town, she saw the same destruction she'd
seen before.

"I always loved San Antonio, Ian. It is a pity
that the town was so ravaged by war, and so
many people were left without a place to live."

"The aftermath of war is never a pretty sight,
Emerada."

She glanced over at him. "I know the war
was necessary, but the people, Ian-what about
them?"

"I was told that many of the Mexican families followed Lieutenant Castaneda back to
Mexico. Juan Seguin reports that there are only fifty people now residing in San Antonio.
As time passes, more will come, and those who
fled will return."

"I suppose."

It was stiflingly hot, and Emerada held her
lace handkerchief to her nose, praying she was
not going to be ill.

Ian saw her pallor and took her hand. "I will
soon have you settled so you can rest."
She nodded, wishing she were lying down.

"Shall I get the doctor for you?"

"No. As you said, I merely need to rest."

"Did I make a mistake in bringing you here?"
His jaw tightened. "There is not a proper doctor here, nor any of the comforts you're accustomed to."

"As you very well know, I have slept on the
ground and in a stable. I am not one of your
soft Southern women, Ian. I do not want to be
pampered, so say no more about it."

He grinned. "How could I have forgotten for
a moment that you have fire in your spirit?"
His eyes gleamed when he looked at her. "You
are like no other woman, Emerada."

She wondered how he would compare her
and his intended bride. That woman was most
probably a proper lady who would never have
done any of the outrageous things Emerada
had.

The coach came to a halt before a boardinghouse so recently built it didn't even have a
sign. She could smell the scent of new lumber and fresh paint. Emerada saw several workmen on ladders hammering and sawing. Apparently the building was not yet finished.

Ian smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry about
the noise. As you see, out of the ruins, new life
teems."

Emerada stepped down from the carriage
with Ian's help, and her gaze went to the
Alamo. She stood as if turned to stone, a lump
lodged in her throat. "I never thought to look
upon that sight again."

Ian hurried her into the boardinghouse and
spoke to the man at the desk. "I will require
your best rooms for my wife. Can you have
them ready immediately?"

"Yes, sir, Colonel McCain," said the ruddycomplexioned man with a ready smile. "Your
missus will have the best rooms in town."

"Very good," Ian said. "And your name is...?"

"I'm Hank Glover, Colonel." He tugged at his
earlobe nervously while his gray eyes sparkled
with admiration. "I rode with you at San Jacinto, and proud I was to do it. Me and the other
men saw as how you had no fear, sir, and it
made us feel like we were gonna win-and
that's the gospel truth."

Ian smiled. "I remember you, Sergeant
Glover. As I recall, you made a good showing of
yourself that day at San Jacinto."

"I'm not in the army now, sir. I bought this
place, and I aim to settle down right here in
San Antonio."

Ian glanced about the small common room.
"Is there a store where you can purchase bedding and other necessary items for my wife's
comfort?"

The man cleared his throat and crossed his
arms as if he didn't know what to do with
them. His gaze rested briefly on Emerada, taking in her condition; then he glanced back at
Ian. "Well, sir, Javier's Mercantile ain't much,
but it has some comforts. Javier said he got a
nice shipment of goods in yesterday from New
Orleans."

Ian laid several bills on the table. "Buy whatever you think it will take to make Mrs. McCain
comfortable. If you need more money, let me
know."

"Yes, sir. I'll see to it right now." The man
rushed toward the door. "It's a delight to do
anything for you, sir."

Emerada watched in amazement as the man
sprinted out the door. She managed to recapture some of her good humor. She saluted Ian
and imitated the man's voice. "Yes, sir, Colonel,
sir, I'll do anything for the fearless warrior who
seems to have won the war single-handedly."

Ian looked at her with irony. "If he but knew
it, you are the one he should pay his respects
to. Poor man didn't realize that he was in the
presence of the celebrated San Antonio Rose."

Emerada moved to the window and stared at
the market vendors near the square. "The San
Antonio Rose is dead," she said with finality.

Emerada watched as the hot breeze stirred the
curtains at the window. She imagined that she
was the only person in town with lace curtains.
She wondered what Hank Glover had had to do
to get some poor woman to hurriedly sew them
for him.

She walked across the braided rug onto the
new plank floor, feeling confined in the small
space, which consisted of a bed and a small
table with two wooden chairs.

Emerada longed for the cool breezes of
Paris, but she did not wish herself there. Here
she could be near Ian if he ever got back from
the border, where he'd been sent the first day
they'd arrived in San Antonio.

That was five days ago. In that time she'd
hardly left this room because she couldn't face
the reminders of the destruction. She even had
her food brought to her by an obliging Hank.

If she closed her eyes, she could still hear the
awful sounds of the dying, the ground-shaking
cannon fire, the rifle shots, and the horrible
sound the cannonballs made when they exploded against the mission walls.

Leaning her forehead against the window,
she looked out, knowing that from this vantage
point she would see only the two new shops
across the street.

Her eyes widened, and her heart quickened.
Ian had just ridden up with several other soldiers. Her gaze devoured him. She had missed him so desperately! He was dressed in his uniform and wore his hat with one side of the brim
turned up and held in place with a red cockade.

He dismounted and glanced up at her window, but she didn't think he could see her
through the lacy curtains.

His voice drifted up to her.

"Get some rest," Ian told his men. "We have
to ride for Victoria early in the morning."

Emerada's disappointment was sharp. He
would be leaving again tomorrow. She hurried
to the small mirror that hung on the wall and
patted her hair into place.

An hour passed, and then two, and Ian still
had not come to her room. She was beginning
to wonder what could be keeping him so long.
It was obvious that he hadn't come running
home to her.

At last there was a light tap on the door, and
Ian entered. His hair was still damp, and he
was clean-shaven. She realized that he must
have bathed before he came to her.

For a breathless moment they stared at each
other.

After a moment he said, "You didn't have the
door locked."

She blinked, slightly confused. His first
words to her after being gone for so long were
to reprimand her for not locking the door. "I
did not think it was necessary," she answered
stiffly.

He unbuttoned his jacket and placed it and his hat on a chair. "Promise me that you will
always lock the door when I'm not here. Remember, until Domingo arrives, or I am with
you, you are a woman alone and susceptible
to danger. There are many who know you as
San Antonio Rose. I wouldn't want some enamored admirer storming your room one
night."

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'll
leave you a gun, too. I'm sorry I didn't think of
it before."

Emerada felt the strain between them. "You
shouldn't worry about me. But if it would make
you feel better, you may leave the gun."

He looked her over from head to toe. "You
are like a breath of spring." He glanced down
at his boots, which were still dusty. "I must
have swallowed a pound of trail dust between
here and the border."

She took his jacket from the back of the chair
and hung it and his hat on a hook. "You must
be hungry. I'll have Hank bring you something
to eat. The stew at the Iron Kettle is edible."

He smiled. "It's nice to come home to such a
dutiful wife."

She gave him a haughty glance. "I live for
nothing but to please you, Ian McCain."

His laughter followed her out the door.

Ian sat across the small table from Emerada
while Hank cleared away the remnants of their
meal. "Mrs. McCain tells me that you have looked after her, Hank. I want to let you know
how much I appreciate it."

"Colonel, for your pretty missus, it's a real
pleasure." He grinned broadly and left, a blush
on his ruddy face.

"Another conquest, Emerada?"

"No. I would not say that. Hank has been
very helpful. He lost a brother at Goliad, and
his other brother lives in Georgia. He wants to
bring his brother's family to Tejas as soon as he
feels it is safe. He's lonely, Ian. I feel sorry for
him."

"It will be a comfort to me knowing he will
be looking after you." He reached across the
table and caught her hand in a firm clasp.
"The new republic is called Texas now,
Emerada."

"Si. I know this, but I sometimes forget." She
noticed the tired lines around his eyes. "When
did you sleep last?"

He rubbed his hand over his eyes. "I don't remember. I have been twelve hours in the saddle
and changed horses three times. The last poor
animal I almost rode to death."

"But why?"

He stood up and stretched his broad shoulders. "We chased several Mexican soldiers
nearly to the border."

Her mouth opened in horror, and she
grabbed his arm. "You were in a battle?"

"Of a sort. But it was of short duration. The
Mexicans don't really have the stomach for fighting, and were soon heading back across the
border."

Emerada stood and moved to the bed, turning down the covers. "You must get into bed
now."

He smiled down at her. "Is that an invitation,
Emerada?"

Her cheeks flamed, and she walked across
the room to pull the curtains together and
close out the glow of the sunset. "There is only
one bed, and we will have to share it. But I
have issued you no invitation."

He dropped down on the bed, yawning as he
tugged at his boots. "I suppose I'll have to work
on my charm," he said, standing up and slipping out of his trousers.

Emerada turned away, thinking he already
had more charm than one man had a right to.
She blew out the lamp, casting the room in
shadow. She heard the bedsprings creak when
Ian lay down.

There in the darkened room, she sat in a
chair, her hands folded in her lap, listening to
his breathing. He was so tired that he'd fallen
asleep almost immediately. She didn't know
how long she sat there, just listening to his
steady breathing. She heard the sounds outside
the window of people closing up their stores
and going to their houses.

A feeling of loneliness washed over her, and
she wanted to strip off her clothing and climb into bed beside her husband, to be in his arms,
to have him make love to her.

He might tease her and pretend that he
wanted to make love to her, but he must be disgusted by her because he thought she carried
his enemy's baby. She had no one to blame but
herself for the situation she found herself in.
She had built a wall of deception between
them, stone by stone. It stood there, impassable, and she didn't know how to tear it down.
It was too late to tell him the truth about his
baby. Anyway, it would be better if he never
knew.

Somewhere, in one of the other rooms, she
heard a clock chime the midnight hour. She
stood up and went to the chest where she kept
her nightgown. In the darkness, she quietly undressed and climbed carefully into bed, lying
close to the edge.

Her body was rigid at first because she
feared any movement might awaken Ian. But
soon drowsiness descended on her and she fell
asleep.

Emerada awoke and realized that someone was
in her bed. Her sudden panic brought her fully
awake until she remembered it was Ian. For a
time she lay there, desperately wanting to touch
him.

Finally she inched her hand slowly across
the distance between them and touched his arm, feeling the muscles there. Since he didn't
move, she dared to go further-he would never
know.

Her hand moved lightly to his chest and
rested against the mat of soft hair. Raw yearning raced through her, leaving her weak and
faint.

Emerada gasped when Ian's hand clamped
over her arm and he pulled her to him. "I have
been lying here, listening to that damned clock
tick away the hours, wishing I could touch
you," he said hoarsely. "But I didn't dare."

His lips touched her cheek and slid past the
opening of her gown to her breasts. He licked
one nipple and then the other until she
groaned with pleasure. Her legs intertwined
with his, and she strained to be closer to him.
She thought she would faint when she felt him
swell against her.

Roughly he turned her onto her back and
pushed her gown upward. "For so long now
I could have you only in my dreams or in
my memory." He hardened and throbbed to
enter her hot, moist body. "I want you,
Emerada."

She raised her head, pressing her mouth
against his, and she felt intense satisfaction
when he groaned her name.

He entered her with restrained passion, careful not to hurt her or the baby. She clung to
him, meeting his passion with her own.

"Sweet little wife." He spoke against her
lips, his breath becoming raspy. "You feel so
good."

"Ian," she uttered breathlessly. "Oh, Ian!"

She ran her tongue over his lips, invoking a
deeper passion in him. His engorged manhood
seemed to reach into the far recesses of her
trembling body.