Golden Roses (34 page)

But Valdis seemed not to hear.

Gerras said, “The men are getting angry. They wish to know how long you intend to remain here.”

“Until darkness,” Valdis replied. “Then…I take what is mine.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

On the rocky ledge, some of the Indians were dancing a slow, rhythmic dance around the coffin. Now and then, one of the women would wail and others would join in. The eerie sounds echoed far into the canyon, to bounce back and ring round them.

When it was dark, the coffin was opened, and all filed by for a last look.

Amber did not want to see the cold, stiff body, but reminded herself once more of her duty. She tried not to stare at what was in the coffin—blankets, food, tools, and jewelry that had belonged to the dead man.

With a shudder, she stumbled away.

Noahax appeared at her side again and said, “We will remain here until dawn. Then we make the journey below, to where Hutego will be buried, near the waterfall, and—” She broke off, turning to look behind her.

Amber followed her gaze, refusing to believe what she saw. She was asleep. She had to be. “Dear God, no,” she whispered, her hands clutching her throat. “It can’t be!”

“Ah, but it is.” Valdis chuckled, delighted, pointing his rifle at the gathering of mourners. “
Querida
, it was senseless for you to think you could ever escape me. You
belong
to me.”

All around the bewildered Indians, Mexicans stepped from their hiding places. Caught in the dancing and wailing, they had not heard them slipping up to surround them. They could only stare silently, fearfully, for the young men were away and the old people and women saw the angry, determined Mexican men were more than they could fight.

Valdis did not take his eyes away from Amber. “Well,
querida
? Have you no word of welcome?”

“What do you want?” she cried in a voice braver than she felt.

Valdis asked coldly, “Will you go peacefully, or must we kill all your friends?”

“You’re a brave man, aren’t you, Valdis? You have a gun and all your bandits. We have only old men and women and children here.”

He hissed, “Do not provoke me. You have much punishment coming. Once I have had you all I want, then I will have you tortured until you scream for mercy. Now come. We have a long way to travel.”

In that moment, all she could think of was Armand. Would he have the sense to stay out of sight, or would Valdis send a man to search for him? So distracted was she that she barely heard the swishing sound. Suddenly Valdis screamed, his hands going to his face, blood spurting through his fingers. Amber watched, stunned, slowly taking in the horrible sight of the arrow protruding from an eye. Valdis fell to his knees, writhing in agony.

The Indians scattered, terrified, and Valdis’s men, assuming they were being attacked, also ran.

Only Amber remained, frozen, watching as Valdis cried out as he rolled in anguish upon the ground.

A movement on a nearby ledge caught her attention, and she looked up in wonder to see Armand standing on the rock, silhouetted by the rising moon beyond him, a grim expression on his face…and a bow in his hand. Armand had shot the arrow!

“Run!” she screamed, fearing Valdis’s men would return. “Run, Armand!”

He looked down at her solemnly, then turned and silently disappeared into the night.

Amber quickly found Valdis’s rifle, which he had dropped when he fell. He had lost consciousness by then and lay very still. Spotting one of the old Indian women peering from the scrub, she motioned her over. Noahax also crept forward. A few moments later, she called to Amber, “We have removed the arrow. We will pack the wound to try to stop the bleeding, but the eye is lost.”

“Will he live?” Amber asked, not really caring.

“Maybe.”

Amber knew that if there was one among Valdis’s men who would not desert him, it would be Gerras. She called to him again and again, her voice ringing out to echo in the canyon.

Finally, he appeared, holding his hands above his head. “Do not shoot,” he said apprehensively.

“Don’t make me,” she warned, then nodded to Valdis. “Take him and go. Tell his men not to dare come back. The other warriors will return any moment, and they will be waiting for you if you come back here.”

Amber asked Noahax to have a signal fire built at once. It would bring the hunters back. Then she left the scene and went into the forest alone.

She watched as the sun rose over the mountains to kiss the world awake, a gentle pink mist rising from the canyon depths. She stared down at Armand, who had come to her during the night to sleep, curled up with his head in her lap. Touching his tousled hair fondly, she smiled. He was going to be as brave and courageous as his father. He had saved her from Valdis, perhaps saved all of them.

Staring into the mist surrounding them, she knew the time had come to leave that peaceful place. Cord had obviously met his destiny elsewhere. It was time for her to do the same.

“Amber,” a husky voice called.

Her head whipped around. She must have imagined that beloved voice, she decided, then stared in disbelief at the vision of Cord striding toward her.

“I…I don’t believe it,” she cried, gently laying Armand aside and struggling to her feet. “Is it you?” she gasped, “or an apparition of the mist?”

He wrapped strong arms around her and tightly held her to him. “It’s me, Amber. I wish I’d gotten here sooner. Noahax told me what happened. Thank God for the boy. If I had come back and found you gone again…”

He moved back to gaze down at her, his hands framing her face gently. “I love you, Amber. I always will,” he said simply.

Stepping back, he reached inside his jacket and withdrew something, placing it in her hands.

She stared down in wonder at a golden rose. “You knew…” she whispered. “You knew about the legend?”

“I knew, and I believe in it. I hope you believe in it too.”

With a cry of joy, she flung her arms fiercely around him. Their lips met in a pledge of love, a pledge that was theirs at long, long last.

There would be no more doubts, no fears, for the golden rose sealed their devotion for always and ever.

About the Author

Patricia Hagan might be the New York Times bestselling author of 38 novels and 2500 short stories, but she can also lay claim to being among the vanguard of women writers covering NASCAR stock-car racing. The first woman granted garage passes to major speedways, she has awards in TV commentary, newspaper and magazine articles, and for several years wrote and produced a twice-weekly racing program heard on 42 radio stations in the south.

Patricia’s books have been translated into many languages, and she has made promotional trips to Europe, including England, France, Italy, Norway, Greece, Turkey, Croatia, Spain and Ireland.

Hagan’s exciting eight-book Coltrane saga, which spans from the Civil War to the Russian Revolution, has appeared on every major bestseller list and is one of the most popular series published in France, never having been out-of-print in that country in nearly 30 years.

Born in Atlanta, Georgia, Patricia grew up all across the United States due to her father’s position as a federal attorney, finally settling in Alabama where she graduated from the University of Alabama with a major in English. She now resides with her husband in south Florida where she volunteers as a Court-appointed Guardian Ad Litem for abused children.

But of all her accolades and accomplishments, Patricia most of all loves to boast of being the proud mom of a Navy SEAL.

Look for these titles by Patricia Hagan

Now Available:

Souls Aflame

Passion’s Fury

This Savage Heart

The Coltrane Saga

Love and War

The Raging Hearts

Love and Glory

Love and Fury

Love and Splendor

Love and Dreams

Love and Honor

Love and Triumph

Coming Soon:

Love’s Wine

Midnight Rose

For April Jennings, betrayal by her own blood leads to the love of a lifetime.

Passion’s Fury

© 2012 Patricia Hagan

After her father’s death at the start of the Civil War, April Jennings is stripped of her inheritance by her spiteful twin, and sent to a strict convent in the Georgia Mountains. But on the way to the convent, her captors agree to a horse race with dashing rogue Rance Taggart…and April is the prize. He wins easily, and April becomes his.
 
And despite her anger and rage towards Rance, she finds her heart cannot resist the desire and love that smolder within.

Refusing to accept her fate, a stubborn April braves bloody battlefields, imprisonments, and defies her own heart in order to reclaim her birthright from her perfidious twin. And all the while she struggles against the knowledge that Rance, more than anything else, is where her destiny is leading her.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Passion’s Fury:

They neared the stables, and April could not stand the suspense any longer. “Poppa, would you please tell me what all this is about?” she begged, shivering in the cold despite her cape and his arm about her.

He stopped just outside the door leading to the smaller of the buildings. “Do you remember my prize Darley Arabian?” he asked proudly.

“Yes, of course. He’s a magnificent creature. People come from all over just to see him.”

“Do you remember all I told you about him?”

She nodded. “He has a pedigree, is full-blooded, and is a descendant of a famous horse named
Eclipse,
bred by the Duke of Cumberland.”

“And I had him brought over here from England at great expense,” he added with a wry smile. “Well, I’ve a wonderful surprise for you, and it’s been quite difficult keeping it a secret. I’ve had to keep you away from the stables and leave strict orders to the groomsmen that your surprise be kept out of sight.”

“Poppa, whatever are you talking about?”

Bewildered, she watched as he reached to open the stable door. The glow of a lantern spilled out into the gathering twilight. He looked inside, nodded to someone, then turned to her and said in a voice trembling with pride, “I have hidden Virtus’s colt from you, April, because he is my gift to you on this day.”

He laughed at her stunned expression and reached to pull her inside the stable. She gasped, catching sight of a shiny black colt prancing in the center of the room. His coat shone like satin, and his
eyes sparkled with gold and red fires. He was the most magnificently beautiful horse she had ever seen, even among her father’s thoroughbreds.

“You…you mean he’s
mine
?”
April looked from the black colt to her father in disbelief. “You are giving the son of Virtus to me?”

“He’s all yours.” He was beaming with pride. “Now he hasn’t been broken yet, and I certainly don’t want you riding him until he is. Like his father, he’s high-spirited. But you should be able to handle him after he’s trained.”

“She’ll never be able to handle this horse.”

For the first time, April noticed a man standing in the shadows outside the ring of light, holding the colt’s reins. He stepped forward, and she dimly recognized Rance Taggart, who had arrived at Pinehurst when his father became ill. Frank Taggart had been in charge of the stables for as long as she could remember, and his son Rance had often been at Pinehurst.

Vaguely, she recalled her father saying something about Mr. Taggart’s son arriving a month or so previously, but since she had not been in the stables of late, she had not noticed him.

Now, she felt her father stiffen with indignation. He was not accustomed to being challenged.

“What do you mean by that, Taggart?” Carter Jennings growled.

Rance’s eyes flicked over April briefly, then met the challenge of Carter’s glare. April noted that he was a full head taller than her father, with wide shoulders. Beneath his open suede shirt, she could see a heavily furred chest tapering down to a flat belly and narrow hips. He was well-proportioned, lean, yet muscular.

Her gaze moved to his face. His hair was ebony, and his eyes, a smoldering chestnut brown, were intense, probing in their alertness. He was quite handsome. Something about him was disturbing…something she did not understand just yet. Something dangerous? She was not quite sure, but the man possessed a quality that caused her to tremble at his nearness.

Rance spoke to Carter Jennings in a firm confident tone. “This colt is very high-spirited, and even after he’s broken, it will take an experienced rider to handle him. April isn’t that experienced. If you want to give her a horse, there are some gentle mares—”

“You forget your place, Taggart!”

Rance Taggart did not wither before her father’s angry, booming voice as other men did. He stood straight, erect, eyes unwavering. He had no intention of apologizing.