Golden Roses (16 page)

All the other heads were turned to Amber, however. The men were awed by her beauty, and the women were plainly envious.

Maretta had waited until the last moment to make a grand entrance, standing poised on the landing at the top of the stairs in a bright-red silk gown. Embroidered yellow flowers trailed about the skirt, and yards of purple gauze shirred the sleeves and bodice. The stunning outfit was capped by her shimmering black hair piled atop her head in cascades of curls held in place by a tall, thin gold comb and a long veil of red lace. But Maretta quickly realized that no one was looking. All eyes were still upon Amber, who stood stiffly beside Valdis.

Stomping down the steps, Maretta made her way to Valdis and, clutching his elbow, whispered, “It is a disgrace. She looks like a whore!”

Valdis silenced her with a look. Just then the doorman signaled that the Alezparito carriage had arrived.

Once they were in it and settled, Maretta glared at Amber, upper lip curled back as she warned, “Armand is here in the city. He may come to the fiesta tonight. I will scratch your eyes out if you so much as look at him.”

Allegra shrank back against the seat. Eyes twinkling, and looking carefully at Amber, Valdis said, “I doubt Armand Mendosa will show his face here except at the bullfight.”

“Yes,” Maretta cried brightly. “He does perform tomorrow, and he never ventures out the night before.” She threw a warning look at Amber. “But if we see him anywhere while we are in Mexico City, you keep your distance from him.”

Valdis sighed. “You are behaving like a shrew. Do not worry. Everyone knows that Amber is with me, and soon they will know she is my fiancée.” He could not resist taunting. “If you would spend more time enhancing your charms, perhaps you could persuade Armand to honor the pledge to marry you. I tell you this, I grow weary of waiting. I want the water rights from his property assured, and the only way that is going to happen is for you to become a Mendosa.”

Amber said coldly, “After what happened the other night, you can forget about water rights from Mendosa land.”

“I will take the water by force, if need be,” Valdis cried. “He knows it. He would not dare refuse me.”

Amber met his fiery glare with one of her own. “We will just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

“Enough!” He snapped his fingers, leaning back and breathing heavily with anger.

Maretta gave each of them a searching look. “Just what did happen?”

“You mean you didn’t hear, Maretta?” Amber pretended surprise. “Valdis, you did not tell Maretta what happened in the woods?”

In a move so fast she had no time to prepare herself, Valdis’s hand shot across the carriage to fasten around Amber’s throat and squeeze painfully. He pulled her face close to his. “You think much of your servant girl, Dolita, no?” He grinned, speaking through tightly clamped teeth. “She is a pretty little thing. How would you like to see her tongue ripped from her mouth? I will not harm you, my future wife, but I will give Dolita what you deserve as punishment if you do not shut your mouth!” He released her, flinging her backward as she gasped for air.

Allegra spoke up. “What is she talking about? I must know.”

Valdis whirled on her, and she cringed. “You will shut up also. This is to be a pleasant evening. I am sick of your whining. One more word, and we will show Amber the only thing you are good for!”

Maretta turned away, sickened, and stared out the window.

Amber gingerly clutched her throbbing throat, wondering if there were bruises. Averting her own gaze out the window, she prayed, eyes burning with tears she dared not shed.
Please, please God, let it be tonight.

The de la Prierda mansion sat atop a sweeping hill on the outskirts of Mexico City. Amber could not help but be impressed as the carriage turned in to the winding road nestled between rows of jacaranda trees, heavy with fragrant blossoms. When they reached a wrought iron archway, a footman in a splendid red velvet uniform waited to help them alight. As he took Amber’s arm, he seemed awed. Maretta noticed.

Another uniformed servant waited inside the massive double oak doors. Bowing, he bade them enter as Valdis told him their names. He gestured and they followed him.

Valdis told Allegra, “As soon as we are announced, find the old ladies and sit with them, out of the way. I do not want you around.” Allegra nodded docilely and shuffled away.

“Valdis, you are a cruel bastard!” Amber hissed, but he merely smiled down at her.

Amber glanced quickly about the foyer, which was very large and seemed like a museum, with statues and portraits of grim-looking personages staring down from the dark-paneled walls. Three magnificent crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, and the rear wall was lined with French doors, through which could be seen a flagstone terrace illuminated by torches, an impressive fountain cascading sparkling water beyond. The foyer was empty of furniture except for an occasional ornately carved chair or small table. The floor was covered in thick carpet of lush burgundy.

The butler ushered them into the large ballroom. In the center was a replica of a stone fountain, surrounded by thousands of flowers of different varieties and colors. A trough, concealed by more flowers, ran from one side of the fountain, and beautiful white swans swam about in it. Long garlands of fragrant gardenias and roses had been intertwined on ropes tied to tiny stars attached to the ceiling. The ceiling was draped in deep purple satin, giving the ballroom the appearance of a star-studded night.

The butler announced in a loud voice, “The Señora Allegra Jualisa Tofelia Alezparito. Her daughter, the Señorita Calias Maretta Alezparito. Her stepdaughter, the Señorita Amber Forrest. Her stepson, Señor Valdis Juan Comtres Alezparito.”

The room was filled with people, and everyone became politely silent when the arrival of new guests was announced. Amber looked about for Armand but did not see him, and her hopes began to sink.

A tall, stout man with narrow eyes set in a paunchy face approached. “
Buenas noches
,” he said, smiling beneath a bushy black mustache as he bent to kiss Maretta’s outstretched hand. Then his gaze fell on Amber, and he cried brightly, “Ahhh, this is the lovely Señorita Forrest that has all of Mexico City talking.” Amber wanted to turn and run, and Maretta glared at her once again.

“General de la Prierda,” Valdis said, stepping forward with a flourish. “It is a pleasure to accept your hospitality. Unfortunately, there was an oversight last year, and I missed that party.” He could not resist the barb.

The general chose not to comment. He introduced his wife to Amber, who was grateful for an excuse to withdraw her fingertips from the general’s sweaty grip. “How nice of you to invite me to your home,” she murmured politely.

Suddenly the general announced in a proud voice, “My son, Diego Luego Guerdo de la Prierda,” and Amber found herself staring up into lackluster eyes. He was tall, thin, and…dull. It was the only word she could think of to describe him.

He bent to kiss her hand, holding on to her fingertips tightly as he stared down at her bosom and murmured, “I had heard you were beautiful, señorita, but words cannot describe such loveliness.”

“Thank you, sir.” She attempted to draw her hand away, but he turned sideways, tucking her fingers into the crook of his elbow.

“We shall dance,” he said firmly, with a challenging glance at Valdis. “I will not allow you to stray from me this night, now that I have found you.”

“Have a wonderful evening, Amber.” Maretta giggled as Diego led her away.

He took her to a far corner of the ballroom, where musicians played. With Diego holding her much too tightly, they danced.
 

“You are the most beautiful woman in the room,” he said matter-of-factly, looking her over with an appraising sweep. “When my father told me that you were coming tonight, I could not believe my good fortune. You will allow me the pleasure and honor of escorting you during your stay in our city.”

Amber blinked. Never had she met anyone who took himself—and her—so for granted. “Well, I don’t know,” she hedged, annoyed, but trying not to show it.

He raised an eyebrow and smirked, “Surely you do not prefer the company of Señor Alezparito? Everyone knows him for what he is, unscrupulous; a
bandido
in disguise. The only reason he was invited here was because he is escorting the rest of his family. And, too, news of your beauty has spread throughout Mexico City.”

Amber stiffened, struggling to pull away from him, but he held her tightly. “It is not by choice that I am here, señor. And I do not wish to be escorted by anyone.” She looked over to where Valdis was standing, watching her resentfully. Had the threat against Dolita not been made, she would have been tempted to appeal to Diego for help. But she did not dare do that. And perhaps there was no need. She clung to the hope of Armand.

Diego continued to smile warmly. “I have heard you American señoritas enjoy trifling with men. You toy with me.”

“I toy with no one, sir,” she told him coolly.

“But your eyes, they glitter like the sun on water.”

“My eyes are probably glittering with anger,” she snapped, “because you are holding me too tightly.”

His eyes widened with disbelief, the first sign of life she had seen in them. As the son of a wealthy, important man, he was not used to being rebuked.

He continued to hold her, even though she had begun to move stiffly as she stared around the room in desperation.

Then she saw him—leaning against the arched doorway which led to the terrace. His arms were folded nonchalantly across his chest. He was strikingly handsome in a dark-blue velvet suit, the jacket tapering at the waist. He wore a white shirt, a splash of red in the satin cravat at his throat. His thick hair was curled slightly about his neck, giving him the look of a somewhat petulant child despite the heavily masculine aura about him. His eyes, the golden brown hue sparkling in the light of the chandeliers, smiled with amusement as he watched her struggling against Diego’s embrace.

Without thinking of protocol, she jerked so abruptly from Diego that he had no time to restrain her. “Señor Hayden,” she called softly, forcing herself to walk slowly toward him. “How nice to see you here.”

He nodded, not moving. Glancing briefly at her bosom, he winked and murmured, “Señorita. You look lovely tonight…all of you.”

She ignored the remark and glanced over her shoulder to see that Diego was right behind her, looking most annoyed. She wanted desperately to ask about Armand, but Diego was quickly at her side, clamping a possessive hand on her arm. He nodded to Cord and said tightly, “Señor Hayden, I believe.
Companero
of the matador, Armand Mendosa.”

Cord nodded as he continued to look at Amber, silent questions transmitting from his piercing eyes. Was she all right? Had Valdis harmed her? So many questions, but he dared not ask.

“Yes.” Amber leaped at the opportunity. “Where is the famous matador tonight? I would like to wish him well in his performance tomorrow.”

“The last time I saw him, he was surrounded by a dozen señoritas, Miss Forrest.” Cord nodded toward the terrace. “You might find him out there in the garden, but you would have to stand in line.”

Diego tugged at her arm. “We are wasting the lovely music. You shall see the matador tomorrow when I take you to the corrida. I plan to invite the entire Alezparito family to join me in my father’s private box.”

Cord raised an eyebrow. “Yes,” he said with a grin, “I think that would be best, Miss Forrest.”

Amber felt Diego tugging at her arm, but she so wanted to see Armand, to speak with him, and Cord was being no help. Then Maretta appeared, frowning. “Cord! What are you doing at this affair? You certainly do not belong here!”

“You are an authority on affairs, aren’t you?” He cocked his head and grinned.

Amber did not miss the tension sparkling between the two. Maretta stood on tiptoe, looking beyond Cord, and squealed, “Armand! He waits for me!” With a swish of her skirts, she hurried out onto the terrace.

Amber could see a crowd of women, a blur of brightly colored gowns, and Maretta shoving her way through them.

“The music,” Diego persisted, tugging at Amber’s arm. “We are wasting the music.”

There was nothing to do but allow Diego to lead her back onto the dance floor. One song blended into the next, and the evening wore on. Valdis and Diego tensely, but politely, vied for dances with her, and she miserably tolerated each. Cord had disappeared. She did not see Armand or Maretta.

Her eyes closed, she moved trancelike to the music, wondering if the night would ever end. Then she felt Diego suddenly stiffen and she heard a familiar voice. “You monopolize the beautiful lady, Diego. Allow your guests a chance to enjoy this delight.”

Diego frowned but bowed and moved away. Amber went into Cord’s arms eagerly, trembling at his nearness. “Cord, thank goodness.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “I didn’t think we would get a chance to talk. I was hoping to see Armand, speak with him, but—”

“He isn’t going to risk arousing Valdis’s suspicions,” Cord interrupted tersely. “He wants him to think he’s completely cowed after the other night. He’s out on the terrace, forcing himself to be polite to Maretta. As long as he stays away from you, it will look like he’s obeying Valdis’s orders.”