San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance) (6 page)

"I will not be needing you tonight. Wait for
me back at camp."

One of his officers stepped forward and uttered a hesitant protest. "But, Presidente, assassins are everywhere. It is not safe for you to-"

Santa Anna smiled instead of chastising his
officer for daring to contradict his orders. "You
are right, of course. You and one of the other
men come with me and watch for enemies. I
will send you away later." He chuckled. "Possibly the only person I have to fear tonight is the
beautiful San Antonio Rose, and the danger
there will be to my heart."

Ian's hand went down to rest against his
ivory-handled knife. It would be so easy to kill
the dictator right then. However, good sense
prevailed. Houston had told him to watch the
woman, and that was what he would do.

A pale moon hung over the village, creating
shadowy recesses between some of the buildings where Ian could hide. Staying within the
darkness, he followed Santa Anna and his two
soldiers from a safe distance. When the Mexican president entered the Las Lomas Hotel, Ian
slipped in behind him, taking care not to be
seen.

The hotel was shabby; the once bright yellow
walls were crumbling and flaking, and the
brick floor was cracked and broken in places.
The outer room was empty except for a man
and a woman who were arguing with the Mexican clerk about a room. The man patiently
tried to explain to them that there was not a
room to be had in the village because so many outsiders had come to watch San Antonio Rose
dance.

When Santa Anna moved past them, the
three people gawked at him, but he paid them
no heed.

Ian watched a huge Mexican man escort
Santa Anna and his soldiers up the stairs.
When he decided it was safe, he went up himself, hugging the shadows. He stood for a long
moment before the door Santa Anna had just
entered.

Suddenly the door was wrenched open and
the big man came out, positioned himself in
front of the door, and gave Ian a suspicious
glare.

Ian got the feeling that the giant man was
one of the dancer's servants, rather than one of
Santa Anna's men. Frustrated, he went back
downstairs. It wasn't likely that the man would
leave his post.

Ian left the hotel and stood out front, searching the upstairs windows. He had to find another way to observe what was going on
between the dancer and Santa Anna.

Emerada entered the room with a flourish of
apricot silk and gave Santa Anna her brightest
smile. Santa Anna's two aides were standing
stiffly by the door, as if they were at attention.

"Senor," she said to Santa Anna, "you do me
great honor." She dipped into a graceful curtsy. "I am honored that you have agreed to dine
with me."

The dictator's dark eyes sparkled, and he
took her hand, raising it to his lips. "It is I who
am honored, senorita. Will you please give me
leave to call you by your Christian name-I
can't very well call you San Antonio Rose all
night, can I?"

A numb calmness seemed to descend upon
Emerada. She had practiced this evening so
often in her mind that her instinct now took
over. "My name is Emerada, sir."

"Ah, Emerada. A beautiful name for a priceless beauty. Si, it suits you."

"You are too kind, senor."

"You must call me Antonio-I insist on it.
There is no reason for the two of us to be so
formal, is there?"

She laughed and reached for the wooden box
on the stand, opened it and offered him a cigar,
and struck a match for him. Moistening her
lips with her tongue, she pursed her mouth
slightly as she blew out the match, catching his
attention by her provocative action.

"I do not know you well enough to call you
by your Christian name, senor. We are, after
all, strangers. And I would never take such liberties with one as exalted as yourself."

Santa Anna laughed, delighted with the stunning beauty. She was witty and intelligent, with
just the right amount of humility. "Before tonight is over, I will no longer be a stranger,"
he said meaningfully.

"You must be weary after your long ride,"
she said, fearful of the passion that suddenly
flared in his eyes. She offered him a chair, and
when he was seated, she took the stool at his
feet. "Let me help you to relax. Perhaps, just for
tonight, you can forget about fighting and war."

He puffed on the cigar and motioned for his
men to move to the other side of the room.
"Yes, I am weary. I am not unlike Napoleon,
misunderstood and troubled by ingrates who
do not appreciate what I do for them."

"I have heard it said that you are very like
Napoleon. Please, tell me why that is."

"It is simply because I will not consider any
military plan that is contrary to the great man's
strategy. Using his plans has won many a battle
for me."

Emerada thought it best not to point out that
the great man, Napoleon, had lost his final battle and died in exile-a fate she hoped Santa
Anna would also share. "It must be a troublesome burden," she answered, feeding his inflated ego. "It is easy to see that you are
destined for greatness."

He nodded and stubbed out the cigar. "These
are demanding times, but a man with my responsibilities must lead, while others can only
follow."

She nodded. "It takes a man of great vision and courage to ride at the head of an army-a
man of destiny, like yourself."

His hand moved up her arm. "So true. You
have great compassion and understanding."
His hand moved across her bare shoulder. "A
beautiful woman can do much to make a man
forget his agonies, if only for a little while."

Josifina entered the room, her dark eyes
sparking with anger. "If you please, dinner is
ready." She slammed down a soup tureen so
forcefully that the liquid spilled onto the table.

Santa Anna glared up at her. The servant's
bristly manners inflamed his anger. "Watch
what you are about, clumsy old woman. If I
had been near you, I would have been burned,"
he said in a furious voice.

"Forgive Josifina, sir," Emerada intervened
quickly, knowing how impulsive Josifina could
be, and how she might very well tell Santa
Anna just how she felt about him. Emerada
stood so that her body was between the dictator and Josifina. "The hour is late, and she has
labored tirelessly, preparing this fine meal for
you. Can you not overlook her shortcomings?"

Santa Anna smiled, his anger dissolved,
urged on by a pair of soft brown eyes. "Were
you so certain that I would dine with you
tonight that you had your maid go to so much
trouble?"

Emerada lowered her lashes. "I was not sure,
but I hoped you would."

Ian had scaled the outside wall and now
watched through a window, observing the interaction between the dancer and the Mexican
president. He was not aware at first that his
eyes lingered on the woman, sweeping across
her bare shoulders to the neckline that
plunged downward to reveal the curves of her
breasts. The bodice of her gown was so tight, it
appeared that with the least touch, her breasts
would come spilling out. He jerked himself up
swiftly when he began fantasizing about stripping her gown off, touching her, kissing those
full lips-

What in the hell was the matter with him?
Was he as besotted as the men who had mobbed
the town to see the dancer? To regain his composure, he glanced at Santa Anna. Though he
could not hear their conversation, it wasn't
hard to see that the man was smitten by the San
Antonio Rose. But then, who wouldn't be? She
was like no other woman he'd ever seen. His
eyes moved back to her. He wondered how long
she'd known Santa Anna.

Were they lovers? Of course they were. Ian
could tell by the way they acted that they knew
each other very well indeed.

Ian's eyes narrowed. If the dancer was on
such good terms with the dictator, then she
must be a threat to Texas's fight for independence. Houston had been right in suspecting
her.

Ian was watchful all through the meal, observing how Santa Anna and the woman spoke
intimately with each other. It was clear to him
that neither of them noticed what they ate.

When they had finished eating and moved to
a sitting area near the window, he ducked back,
smiling. Now he could hear what they were
saying to each other.

"Pity you have somewhere you must go
tonight," Santa Anna said ruefully. "Are you
sure you cannot stay? I had envisioned the two
of us-"

Emerada interrupted him. "Unfortunately,
my plans were made long ago and cannot be
delayed. But another time-"

He pulled her to him and would have
kissed her, but she wedged her arm between
them. "There is no hurry, senor. We will meet
again."

When Emerada braced her hand against his
shoulder, she heard the rustle of paper. Determined to see what secrets he was hiding, she
pressed herself back against him, tentatively
sliding her hand inside his breast pocket.

Santa Anna, thinking that she was relenting,
held her even tighter, unaware that she removed
the document and slipped it behind her back.

She was relieved when she saw that the two
men at the door were discreetly looking in the
other direction to give them privacy.

Now she had become a thief, Emerada thought. But to steal from such a man was no
sin-she was sure of that.

"If only I had not given my word," Emerada
said as she pulled away from Santa Anna with
a feigned look of regret.

"When will you return from this thing you
must do?" he asked in the same petulant tone
of voice a small boy would use when he hadn't
gotten his way.

"I hope it will not be long. I am anxious to
get to know you better."

"Ali, senorita, I am on my way to battle. You
must come to me wherever I am." He leaned
forward and whispered in her ear. "I will not be
hard to find. Look for me between here and
San Antonio de Bexar."

She nodded and quickly stood up, her eyes
issuing a promise of things to come-promises
she hoped she would never have to keep. "I will
find you, Senor Presidente."

There was a profound look of regret on his
face. "Until we meet again, Emerada."

Ian had been listening to the conversation. So,
he thought, her name is Emerada. But Emerada
what? Why does she keep her true identity a secret? Perhaps she was a spy for Santa Anna, as
well as his lover. Houston must be told at once.

In his haste to leave, Ian stepped too near
the ledge and almost lost his balance. The
noise attracted Santa Anna's attention, and he
moved to the window. "Who's there? Guards, guards, take this man. I want to question him
at once!"

Ian considered jumping to make his escape,
but the roof was too high, and he didn't fancy
broken bones. There was nowhere for him to
go. So he pulled his hat lower across his face
and returned to the window, surrendering to
the inevitable.

Emerada watched as Santa Anna's soldiers
dragged the intruder through the window and
slammed him against the wall. She stepped
back several paces, wincing when one of the
soldiers wrenched the man's arm behind him
and spun him around. His wide-brimmed hat
fell off, and for a brief moment she looked into
piercing blue eyes. It was Ian McCain! What
was he doing spying on her?

Before she could react, he lowered his head
to conceal his identity. He must have known
she recognized him. He was dressed like a
Mexican peasant-but why? If Santa Anna discovered this was Houston's man, he would
have him shot!

Emerada was annoyed with herself for caring what happened to Ian McCain, and angry
with him for exposing them both to danger.
She agonized over what action she should take.
If she unmasked him as a spy, she would win
Santa Anna's confidence.

She glanced at Ian and found him watching
her. In that moment, she knew that she could not live with the guilt of his death if she could
prevent it.

With a soft laugh, Emerada moved toward
Ian, standing between him and the lamp so he
would be in shadow and it would be harder for
the others to make out his features.

"Pedro, you fool," she scolded. "How many
times have I told you that I do not need you to
protect me? You should have known that I
would be safe with el Presidente and his soldiers to guard me."

She dislodged one of the Mexican's hands
from Ian's arm and nodded for the other guard
to release him. "This man is harmless. He has set
himself up as my guardian and is only trying to
protect me." Her voice became hard. "Run along,
and do not bother me again tonight, Pedro."

Ian did not take the time to question why
Emerada had come to his rescue-he thanked
his good fortune that she had. Scooping up his
sombrero, he clamped it on his head and hurried toward the door, taking care to hide his
blue eyes.

"Just a moment," Santa Anna ordered. "You
appear to be a strong young man. If you have
so much energy, why are you not in my army?"