The Bastard (13 page)

She'd
be riding Stella's palomino mare, a beautiful golden horse with a blond tail and mane.

“I was told they call them
Isabellas
in
Spain
," Stella had told her.
"After the queen.
So
that's what I named her. Fernando all but had a heart attack."

Isabella was certainly a horse fit for a queen. Angelica found the
sidesaddle
more cumbersome than the eastern ones she
was used
to but the palomino's gait was so smooth it made no difference.

"A fine mare
,"
Diarmid said after he'd helped her mount and swung onto his buckskin.

"Stella says she stole her from under the noses of her in-laws." Angelica smiled. "Of course she's only joking.
“
The mare was a gift to her from her husband. Naturally she brought Isabella with her when she left
Mexico City
."

"That blue becomes you
,"
he told her.

"You say that about every color I wear. How can I believe such indiscriminate flattery?"

Diarmid smiled at her. "I'm entitled to my opinion. You're a beautiful woman whether you wear blue or not."

They rode in silence through El Doblez. Angelica
didn't
look to either side; the less she had to do with the villagers, the better she liked it. Nathan, she remembered, had never once said she was beautiful.
Or
even pretty.
He'd
admired her piano playing and the little sketches she'd done of roses and lilies of the valley. "You have an artist's hands,"
he'd
said.

"I miss my piano," she said wistfully after
they'd
left El Doblez behind.

"Some day I'll buy you one.
The finest in the world."

She slanted a glance his way. Did he mean when she was his wife? He
hadn't
really asked her to marry him, not in so many words. Instead, he seemed to take it for granted that she would.

Diarmid checked his horse at the top of the rise so she did, too. Below
them
the green and rolling valley stretched for miles. All grass and small bushes, no trees except in narrow strips along the few streams. She missed the woods of
Pennsylvania
.

"Why doesn't
California
have more trees?" she asked.

Diarmid started, as though
she'd
roused him from a reverie. "We don't get enough rain here," he said. "I was talking to a merchant in
Los Angeles
who has Australian blue gum tree seedlings for sale. Eucalyptus, he called them, and he told
me
they grow so fast you can see it happen. Since you like trees, I'll buy some of the seedlings to plant around the house." He kicked Bruce into a trot and she followed him down the hill.

"I don't understand why you want me to look at the house site," she said
, "
when I know nothing about such things."

"I want to be certain the location suits you."

Angelica frowned. Enough was enough. "Why does what I think make such a difference?" she demanded.

"I want my wife to be happy."

"But I'm not your wife!"

"You will be.
As soon as the house is ready to be lived in."

She raised her eyebrows. "You certainly take a lot for granted. I don't recall your asking me to marry you, much less my acceptance."

He spread his arms and grinned at her. "It was meant to be. You can't go against fate."

Angelica blinked, undecided whether to make an issue of his arrogance or to go along with him since she did mean to marry him. "You make me feel as though I have no mind of my own," she said tartly.

"I'm sorry."

He
didn't
look it. "I realize a girl should be courted," he went on
, "
but I haven't the time. I also know it's proper to wait at least a year before asking another woman to marry me." Diarmid stretched a hand toward her. "Angelica, I can't bear to wait that long. I knew I wanted you for my wife from the moment I first set eyes on you."

"But--but you already had a wife when we met. How can you say--?"

"I can only tell you the truth."

She turned her face away, her heart hammering fearfully in her chest. Even if
he'd
wanted to be rid of
Concepcion
, surely he wouldn't have started the fire. Only a
madman
would do such a horrible thing. Controlling her impulse to turn Isabella and gallop back to the safety of El Doblez, Angelica took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"You're frightening me," she admitted.

"Forgive me," he begged. "I love
you,
I don't mean to frighten you. I want to keep you from harm for the rest of your life."

Till
death do us part. Angelica swallowed. She turned to Diarmid, screwing up her courage to tell him she wished to return to
Stella's
. He
wasn't
looking at her but off to the east, shading his eyes to see more clearly. She stared in the same direction and saw two
horsemen
.

"Who's that with Manuelo?" Diarmid asked as if to
himself
. Without another word, he urged Bruce into a lope, heading for the men.

Not knowing what else to do, Angelica followed him. When she neared the two
men
she recognized Manuelo. The other rider was older, white-haired, dressed in black with silver ornamentation on his jacket and his horse's saddle.

"Don Francisco!" Diarmid exclaimed, reining in Bruce.

Concepcion
's father.
Angelica halted Isabella a few yards from the three men, devoutly wishing she were anywhere else.
She'd
been right to have doubts about how proper it was to accompany Diarmid today.
But
if she rode away now she was likely to cause more commotion. He was sure to pursue her--than if she stayed off to one side and kept quiet.

The don nodded curtly to Diarmid. He
didn't
so much as glance at her. "Manuelo informs me your new house will be built here." He gestured toward a depression between two rounded hills immediately in front of them.

"Yes," Diarmid admitted. "But, sir, why didn't you let me
know
you were coming? I would have--"

The don cut him off by slashing his hand through the air. "I don't want your hospitality. We no longer have any connection."

"I'm sorry--"

"Don't speak to me of sorrow! About the house site--you
can't
build here. I promised the Indians who live in the mountains I'd never put anything in that spot."

"What do Indians have to do with it?" Diarmid demanded.

"I made the promise because those two hills and the dip between are sacred to them. Why interfere with another man's gods?"

"I made no promises." Diarmid said.

"I realize that.
Too late."
Don Francisco's voice, heavy with icy anger, made Angelica shiver.
She hated strife of any kind.

"You killed her
,"
the don accused. "You killed my daughter and made certain my grandson would survive only long enough to fulfill the agreement.
Long enough for you to be sure of the land."

"I did no such thing!" Diarmid cried. "Bonny Charlie--the boy was my son.
I
did all I could to keep him alive. And
Concepcion--
" He shook his head. "I failed her by being gone when I should have been at her side. But the fire was none of my doing."

"You dismissed the servants.
Even old Rosa, who raised
Concepcion
.
They loved one another--how could you be so cruel? You sent them all away so no one would be there to see when you murdered my daughter."

Angelica, stunned with shock, hardly breathed. She flinched when Don Francisco stabbed his finger into the air to point at her.

"You even have the gall to bring another woman here with my poor child not yet cold in her grave. May God punish you as you deserve--I have no heart for
it.
" The don turned his back on them all and rode away. After a moment of hesitation, Manuelo rode after him.

For long
moments
Diarmid stared at the departing don.
Finally
he turned and looked at Angelica. "I didn't kill her," he said brokenly and she saw tears on his cheeks.

Pity for him overwhelmed her horror. "No," she said soothingly, "no, I don't believe you did. And you loved little Charlie, I know that."

He dismounted, strode to her and lifted her from the palomino. Taking her into his arms, he held her gently. "Marry me, Angelica
,"
he pleaded. "If you don't, I'm lost."

Now that
he'd
asked her in so many words, she saw nothing she could do but accept. Still, she was determined to put off the date as long as possible. "We can't marry
,"
she reminded him, "until there's a house for us to live in."

He held her away from him, looking into her eyes.
His gleamed with what she thought must be triumph.
"Order your wedding gown," he said. "I'll begin building the house tomorrow."

He pulled her close and his mouth covered hers in a demanding kiss that was nothing like those
she'd
received from Nathan. She felt half-suffocated and, at the same time, as though she
were
being devoured. Putting her palms against his chest, she pushed at him.

"Please don't, you're crushing me
,"
she said.

Diarmid knew exactly what kind of a house he wanted.
Not adobe, not a
Californio
hacienda.
And
not a Scottish cottage, either. He planned to build his home of wood, high off the ground, with steps up to a porch that swept around both sides from the front.
There'd
be two stories with an upper veranda and a tower above. A grand house, painted white.

Angelica preferred brick.
He'd
do almost anything to please her but brick was too much like adobe to suit him. He encouraged her to plan how she wanted to furnish her music room and ignored her request for brick.

In the early morning, a week after the unfortunate meeting with Don Francisco, Diarmid was at the new house site supervising the digging for the foundation posts. He
hadn't
seen the don again but had heard from Manuelo that the old man had gone to visit his widowed sister-in-law,
Anuncion
, who'd moved to
Los Angeles
.

Since Diarmid knew the don had little use for
Anuncion
, the meeting could only be for one purpose. Don Francisco was going to try to break the agreement, to oust Diarmid in favor of
Anuncion's
grandson.

Just let him try, Diarmid thought grimly.
I
kept my part of the bargain and I mean to see he keeps his.
I'll
fight him through every court in the country if I have to. This is my land and my land
it'll
stay.

When he noticed the three riders approaching from the southeast, he thought at first they were workers hired to build the house. When they
neared
he saw they were Indians and he frowned. He wanted no lazy, undependable
workers,
his house must go up strong and true--and fast.

They rode to where he stood, halted their mounts--bony, ill-fed creatures--and stared down at him.

"What's your business with me?" he demanded, unsettled by their silent scrutiny.

"You build here," one said in Spanish--the oldest, judging by his weathered and wrinkled skin.

"This is my land," Diarmid affirmed. "I build here."

"Sacred land."

Diarmid shook his head. "I don't worship your gods."

"Our God is Jesus," the old one said, surprising Diarmid. "Is He not yours?"