Mexican Fire (16 page)

“You mean to tell me—”

“I do, little dove,
mi paloma.”

Was that a grin she was hiding? “Shame on the two of you,” Alejandra said.

Grin or no grin, that was relief in her eyes. When he had called on Mercedes Navarro to draw her into his plan, both he and the devious blonde had had doubts this ploy would work. So be it, it took a trick to get Alejandra's attention.

He reached for the red flowers that, in anticipation of this moment, he'd placed on a handy chair. “For you, my sweet.”

Alejandra shook her head. “Please don't do this to me.”

“What? Give you roses? What is the injury in this?”

“You know flowers have nothing to do with the issue.”

He tickled her nose with a scarlet bud. “Tell me they aren't pretty.”

“They are. But . . .”

“But what? They make you sneeze?”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Light from the chandeliers reflected her tears. “I just don't want your attention.”

Reece patted his fingers against his thigh. Making peace wasn't going to be a leisurely and merry stroll down a verdant boulevard, for certain. It might never be in the scope of things. Perhaps he should do the gentlemanly thing and back off.

Well, they would have to add “yellow” to his name if he did that.

The flowers were tossed aside. Reece took Alejandra's elbow with one hand and reached for his cloak with the other. Brooking no argument, he said, “You and I need to talk. Outside would be a good place to do it.”

He led her to the adjacent and secluded garden. Stars and a half moon brightened the cloudless night. Shrubbery swayed in the soft breezes. The muted sounds of happy voices and a stringed band drifted from the barracks, as did streamers of light. Beneath his fingers, Reece felt Alejandra shiver. He wheeled around, and as a matador would deftly wield his cape, Reece fitted his cloak around her shoulders. His fingers settled at her waist.

Looking down into the conflicting emotions in her features, he asked in English, “Are you ready for the truth?”

“Are you capable of it?”

“That's been known to happen.” With the side of his forefinger, he elevated her chin. “I'm sorry I was dishonest.”

She moved away from him. Presenting her back, she clutched her arms and stared at the ground. “I'm not convinced you don't work for the French.”

Now would be a good time for the honest-to-God truth, but he just couldn't be as candid as he wanted to be. Reece bent to sit on the grass-covered earth. Coastal breezes soughed through the trees, kissed his face as he wished Alejandra would do. He settled back against a poinciana trunk. His legs spreading, he rested his wrists on his crooked knees. He stared at Alejandra's shoulders and wished he could be what she needed. A gentleman.

How he wanted to pull her back into his embrace . . . and make everything better. That could be accomplished only with as much honesty as he could allow, not by physical action.

“Jandra, I'm going to tell you something, several things, and I hope I can trust you.” He was taking a huge gamble, but Reece loved her enough to bet on a losing hand. “I do spy for Charles Baudin.”

She sat down on a park bench no more than three feet from Reece. “May the saints protect us.”

“Let's pray they do. You see, Jandra my darling, that stripling I captured was a plant to divert Antonio from the expeditionary forces. The sailor is a distant cousin of mine from Caen. Jacques LaTouche.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, knowing you hail from the shores of Normandy, or that you have schemed against my beloved country?”

“I may be in cohoots with Charles Baudin, but I'm no more French than you are. I'm as American as apple pie.”

She chuckled. “I have a hard time comparing you with apple pie.”

He smiled. They were making headway. Inquiring as to what he did remind her of was the question for an idiot, though. “I like it when you laugh.”

Ignoring the compliment, she said, “You've accepted the rank of Army colonel. My people are depending on you to protect them from the French. As a spy for Admiral Baudin, you are doing Santa Anna false. He, who saved you from a death sentence over your treason toward the Tejas government. What does that say about your principles?”

He wasn't surprised she knew about his fabricated past. No need to get into that. Yet. If ever. “I didn't realize you'd become Antonio's admirer.”

“I find nothing to like about Santa Anna. My words had to do with
decoro nacional.
Right or wrong, he fights for Mexico. Of course, he seeks the glory of Santa Anna alone,” she added.

Questions ran through Reece's mind, things he had wondered about from the night she showed up at his house. “I don't understand why you hate him so.”

She turned to face Reece. “Everything I said at Casa Montgomery was true. I believe Santa Anna is evil.” She threw back her head and laughed. “Maybe I'm evil, too, but it's a damned shame you didn't let General Houston kill him when he had the chancel”

Reece wouldn't argue the pros and cons of that. “Wishing a man dead and trying to keep him corralled are two different things. What do you really want, Alejandra?”

Her fingers curved around the bench seat. “I want to bring honor to my husband.”

Miguel again. “Honor? I thought he died in battle. There's nothing more honorable than giving your life for your country.”

“If only the cause had been . . . No matter about that, you know how I feel about Santanista causes. What I'm trying to say is, honoring Miguel's memory will give me peace of mind. I never want another person to die for the glory of Santa Anna.”

Poor darling. There was nothing she could do to stop Antonio, unless she were to take his life. But Reece empathized with her feelings. It was rotten, wanting things beyond control. He needed to find Garth; she needed peace of mind. Their hands were tied by fate . . . and by the indominable General Antonio López de Santa Anna.

“I am your ally, Jandra. Now that your Federalist friends have captured Tampico and Matamoros, and Bau—”

“Repeat that.”

“You didn't know about the Federalist movement in northern Mexico?”

“I had no idea about any insurrections up there. The newspapers said nothing.” She sighed. “You see, with 'Rasmo in prison and Don Valentin Sandoval too ill to make contacts for me, I guess I've been in the dark about recent events.”

“Who is this Don Valentin you speak of?”

“The gentleman I sought at the
mesón,
the day the French assaulted us.” She continued her frank explanation.

Reece ached to protect her from the Federalist element, and wasn't too comfortable that she'd given over her home and heart to a feeble old political zealot. Well, if Reece knew anything about the woman he loved, he knew she wouldn't be swayed from her opinions or from her determinations. A fellow could use an ally like Alejandra Sierra.

“You know, Jandra, you and I could make a pretty good team.” Reece glanced his fingers across his lips. “If we stopped fighting each other and worked together.”

Her laugh was bereft of mirth. “I've had experience with your assistance, thank you very much.”

“Would it be a comfort to know the Federalist to the north are friendly with Admiral Baudin? He's allowing them free trade with the outside world, you see. Which will line the war chest for you and your
amigos
.”

She rose from the bench. “Comforted? No, I'm not. I don't know whom to trust anymore, now that my compatriots have gone over to Admiral Baudin's side.”

“Baudin does not want to conquer Mexico.”

“So you say.”

“I do. And the northern Federalists are confident of his integrity.” Reece stretched to stand. “But there's something you should consider. Prince François has his eye on an empire here—”

“Excuse me? The prince who botched the attack on Vera Cruz hopes for a crown?”

“Well, he is set back a bit, since the powers in the capital haven't conceded to the French. But François has the ear of some high potentates—countrymen of yours who'd toss him reins if they could get the proper military support. Antonio owes those clerics many favors.”

“This is true, all you say?”

“True enough to get me shot if it were to leak to the wrong person.”

Her gaze, bright in the moonlight, rested on his lips before settling on his eyes. “What would you propose we do as a team?”

Several things rushed to mind. Things such as laughing and hugging, kissing and teasing. And making mutually satisfying love right here in this garden. But, by God, he wanted more than just a roll in the grass. He wanted her admiration. It was time to show her that he could be a gentleman.

“I say, we forget about Antonio and Baudin and the little prince. And everything and everyone else besides ourselves. I say, Mrs. Sierra, that we should rejoin the dance, and enjoy the remainder of this gloriously beautiful evening.”

“That seems rather frivolous.”

“That's what makes life worth living.” He bowed, then offered his arm. “Mrs. Sierra, will you allow me to court you?”

Her hand slipped through the crook of his elbow, yet a worry got to Reece. Court her? That implied a long-term relationship. He wanted it. If he could get out of Mexico alive and with his brother in tow, and if Alejandra would agree to accompany him. These were no small considerations.

He danced as if he had wings for feet. And Alejandra, whirling in Reece's arms to the sounds of
jacaba
and castanets and a singer with fine pitch, had long since given herself up to music, to food, to drink. To the man. The midnight hour approached, and she whirled in Reece's arms.

For weeks she had told herself she didn't want him. Nothing about him. She had tried to be strong, to deny the memory of those wondrous hours spent in the grip of passion. But her loneliness coupled with the frenzy of war and uncertainty about her personal situation—and laced with tonight's liquid courage! —worked against her determination to keep distance between them.

Don't be an imbecile, a voice in her heart reminded. Those minutes in the nearby garden had changed everything.

Maybe it was wrong to trust Reece, but somehow she did. The things he had told her were too incredible not to be true.

And she was heeding his advice. Here, amongst Santa Anna's troops, their
soldaderas,
and the refugees who had left Vera Cruz in the wake of December fifth, she refused to dwell on anything but the heed of her heart as she celebrated this Christmas season.

Alejandra eyed the crowd. The ritual of finding Mary a place to birth the Christ child had ended, the religious aspects of the
posada
over. In its place was music and laughter and the promise of a long and glorious night.

The singer, a young woman, left the musicians and, dancers clearing her way, she slunk over to Reece. He tightened his arm around Alejandra's back; his feet slowed. Tossing her head, the entertainer lifted her graceful fingers. Click . . . click, click went the castanets as she warbled about fleeting love and enjoying every night as if it were the last.

“¡Ole!”
rang through the hall. The singer thrust her hip, snapped the clappers, and went back to her post.

Alejandra looked up at Reece's face, scanning the Norman features, the flaxen hair, and the blue eyes that were welded to her hazel ones. The scent of the cool winter night clung to his clothing and mixed with his particular scent—oh how she loved the way he smelled! Excitement tingled through her veins. She snuggled closer. She felt the outline of his manliness against her belly. Would he make love to her tonight?

She wanted him to.

From the moment she saw him on the street, bending to help that beggar girl, Reece had awakened a side of Alejandra that had been missing since before English school days. The untamed side of her. It was as if she were a hoyden again,
un garçon manqué,
loving life and living it to the fullest. Only she was no longer a girl. With Reece, she was a woman—wanton and willing and wild.

It was a stupendous feeling.

“Hungry?” Reece asked, bringing her fingers to his lips.

“Oh yes.”

She wasn't referring to the plate of food he fetched for her after breaking away from their dance, though the piquant fare tasted marvelous. Nor was her fourth cup of rum punch something she yearned to partake of.

By the time she had finished it, midnight was past. They were seated on a long bench, their backs touching the wall. Her hunger for Reece wasn't assauged. As she had for more than an hour, she was hungry for him to douse his cigar and pull her into another dance. Down on his lap wouldn't be bad, either.

Her feelings couldn't be called love, of course. A few frank words uttered beneath tonight's half moon had not been enough to open the gate of her heart. Her emotions were rife with carnal appetites, that was all. Which was a sin, but she was vulnerable tonight, both to Reece and to the song that kept lingering in her mind. In life there were no guarantees; Miguel could have attested to that. So why not make the most of each moment?

She took another swallow of the sweet
ron poco.

“Let's dance,” she said, moving her palm to Reece's thigh.

“I think a cup of coffee is in order.”

Coffee. She didn't want to think about it, but liquor having loosened her tongue, she groused, “I'm tired of coffee. Coffee, coffee, coffee. Grow it, pick it, hull it, roast it, sell it. My whole life is managing the land and its people.” That and family problems. And concerns for her country and those in it, be they family or friends. Why was life never simple? “I want to—”

“Let me get you a cup of that brew.”

“Why are you being such a gentleman?”

Reece wagged a finger. “Because you've had too much to drink, and a gentleman takes care of his lady.”

“You're not a gentleman.”

“I'm working on it.”

“Don't try too hard.” She curled her fingers around his steely bicep. “I like it when you, mmmm, well, you know . . . are all demanding.”

From his expression she figured he was on the verge of giving up all his courtliness.

A couple danced by. A soldier wearing the red, black, and green of a cavalry sergeant, slowed his partner and winked at Reece. “Having a good time tonight, Colonel Montgomery?”

Reece clipped a half hearted salute. “I'm trying my best.”

“You should have no trouble, Colonel. A lady as lovely as yours would make any night good.”

“Vidalino!” The sergeant's woman slapped his shoulder with the flat of her hand. “Pay attention to me!” Vidalino rolled his eyes, tightened his grip, and danced his offended lady away.

“How did you get to the dance?” Reece asked Alejandra. “You got a driver waiting?”

She motioned across the crowded dance floor. “That's him over there. Zenon. He's kissing that round girl in the purple skirt. I'd hate to spoil his evening, so will you escort me home, my good fellow?”

With the lightest of touch, Reece ran the tip of his finger down the edge of his mustache. “I'll see you home, yes. Provided you promise to inform your
mayordomo
not to turn me away when I drop by tomorrow.”

“Drop by?” She edged closer. “I don't intend to let you leave before tomorrow!”

“You are drunk, my sweet. I will see you home, you can be assured of that, but I've no intention of making love to an inebriated woman.”

“You sound like me when I'm sober.” And Alejandra was sounding very like Mercedes, but her sister wasn't all bad, so why not use any means necessary to get what she wanted? “You, my darling Reece, are too worried about right and wrong.”

Frowning, he grabbed her arm and hauled Alejandra to the exit. “The rules of courting don't include escort to the bedchamber.”

She recalled the night at Casa Montgomery, when he'd teased her into making love. “We'll see about that.”

Reece handed her into the dark and curtained interior of his borrowed coach. The driver cracked the whip, putting the wheels in motion. The carriage swayed along the road leading from Pozitos. And Alejandra renewed her feminine assault.

Her fingers dipped into the V of his pirate's shirt. It felt so good, his pelt of chest hair. “Stop that,” he growled, but her nail teased his nipple anyway. Remembering how marvelous it felt to be flesh to flesh with Reece, she was all hot and heavy. All over. She was inebriated—why bother to deny it?—but her state hadn't been wrought from alcohol. This heady feeling was brewed of desire.

“Don't you want to touch me?” she teased, her voice low and alluring.

“Of course I do.” He sighed. “But right now, honey, I'm having a difficult time understanding your change of attitude. It's not like you, being aggressive.”

“I was pretty much that way the first night at your house. Anyway, what does it matter, the things that have happened before? All that counts is right now. And don't you agree, it's better in the dark? Hmm?”

Beneath her fingers she felt his chest vibrate as he chuckled. “You'll not get me cornered on that one,” he said.

“Speaking of cornered, you are, you know.” This teasing was fun! “Cornered right here in this carriage. . . and it's a fair ride to Campos de Palmas.” Her fingers slid behind his neck. “Couldn't we try a tiny little kiss?
Por favor.”

He removed her touch. “I promised myself I'd be a gentleman and court you properly.”

“Be honorable. That pleases me. But forget about it when . . . it's just this lust we have for each other.” She twisted around to settle herself on his lap. Feeling his arousal, she moved her backside against it. “Do you deny this?”

“I promised not to lie.”

“You will be in pain, my darling gentleman, if you are not relieved. That would be most ungracious on my part. And I would know the pain of not having”—she rolled her hips—“your warmth on this cool winter night.”

She heard him swallow, felt the tremor that swept his lean body. His actions brought a smile to her lips. “You don't like my ways?” she razzed.

“On the contrary,” he replied huskily. “I like you all wanton and wanting.”

“Then kiss me.”

He did. A hand callused and sure caressed her forearm, her elbow. Her fingers combed into his thick hair. Then the brush of his lips moved along the column of the throat she presented. A quiver of delight winding through her, Alejandra asked, “Will you take me here in this coach, darling Reece?”

“God, Jandra, don't . . . I'm weak when it comes to you.”

“That's not a good enough answer, my Reece.”

“Well, how about this one? Be assured you'll get what you're hankering for,” he answered against her ear, drawing another luscious quiver. “But this time, my sweet, we do it my way.”

“And how is that?”

“The way I wanted to have you the first time.”

It was then he took full charge. Like a man possessed, he tugged loose the tie of her blouse and, his hand caressing the side of her breast, he captured the crest of it with his seeking mouth. And this time she felt no trepidations. She was squirming on his lap, his arm bracing her back. Moaning, she touched her lips to the top of his head. His suckling felt, oh, so right as it evoked even stronger urges within Alejandra.

“Please,” she uttered, needing more. Of what she wasn't certain, so dazed with libidinous greed was she.

His attention left her breast. In the dim light she sensed the heat of his eyes as he said, “I yearn to do that for hours, but I've been too long without you, Jandra. I can't wait any longer.”

And neither could she, amazed as she was that she wanted him to rush.

She moved away long enough to lift her skirts. He undid the laces of his breeches. There was a desire within her to touch his most masculine part, but when she did, he led her hand away. “If you do that,
cora
on de mi cora
on,
well . . .”

“Then let us not wait a moment longer.”

She straddled his hips, and he guided her downward. She felt the tip of his shaft on her most sensitive nub. Her pelvis tipped forward. His groan floated around her as he surged upward. Filled with the hugeness of him, tantalized, and eager to give as well as take, she threw back her head. In rhythm with the rocking coach, they rode to fulfillment.