The Christmas Treasure (2 page)

Gabriel touched her elbow, sending little shocks like lightning through her arm. "You are to say 'I do' now, Mrs. Harmon."
 

Her tongue moistened dry lips. "I --" she croaked. "I . . . do?" She could hardly breathe, her heart was pounding so fast.

The priest spoke again.

"Si, I do," Gabriel answered, his voice dark and smooth as cane syrup, as he reached for her left hand.

Lorilla's breath came in tiny jagged gasps, and she felt dizzy. It was too soon, too sudden. She needed time to rest, to gather her thoughts, before she actually had to marry the man. But he was holding her trembling hand in his larger, darker one and slipping a cool, bright ring onto her finger. She stared at the gold band, studded all around with small diamonds.
 

Feeling his icy eyes on her, she raised her head and against her will met his disturbing gaze. His expression was carefully blank, but a dark shadow lurked behind his cool blue gaze. Was he nervous, too?

The priest raised his hands heavenward and spoke again. Then he leaned toward her new husband, and whispered.

Gabriel reached out his hand and it was all Lorilla could do not to recoil. But she stood fast, her fingers curling into fists, as his hand slid along the side of her neck to curve around the back of her head. Then he nudged her chin up with his thumb and leaned over and kissed her on the mouth.

On the mouth
.
 

Lorilla's lips trembled and her tongue darted out reflexively to moisten them. To her embarrassment her tongue accidentally touched his lips. His fingers tightened around her neck. For an endless moment he deepened his kiss, shocking Lorilla with the intimacy of his tongue touching her mouth. Then, he pulled away, his eyes blazing fiercely.

A smile barely touched his lips. "Ah, Senora, you must be patient." His hand slid from her neck to the small of her back, and he guided her past the smiling, applauding onlookers.

Lorilla felt like she had once in a fever, disconnected, weightless, as they walked out into the sunlight. She had spent hours imagining this moment, but her fantasies had included a faceless, harmless old man, not this strong, handsome stranger who had already touched her in places and in ways no man had ever done before.

Lorilla's tongue flicked out to moisten her lips. Immediately, she remembered his kiss. She almost covered her mouth with her hand. How had she never before noticed this annoying habit?

She stole a glance at his face, but his even features and the hard line of his jaw told her nothing of his thoughts. He bowed and smiled at people, and with a firm pressure on the small of her back, included her in the greetings, although many of the people were Mexican, and she didn't understand a word they said. She forced a tremulous smile as the sea of faces parted and her new husband guided her out to the courtyard just as a band began to play.

The afternoon flew by in a brightly colored daze. As the sun faded over the red hills, bright lanterns were lit. Whirling dancers flew about her in a kaleidoscope of color while guitars and drums and fiddles filled her ears, accompanied by raucous laughter and smiling faces, blending in odd harmony with the lilting murmur of their language. Probably two-thirds of the guests were Mexican.
 

She met the sheriff and his young wife. Lorilla almost cried with relief when the young woman spoke to her in English.

"Oh, my. Senora Beltran, your ears must truly be burning," Sarah Gentry said, taking Lorilla's hands in hers.

"Thank God," Lorilla said gratefully, then leaned close to the other's ear. "Please call me Lorilla and talk to me. I have no idea what they're saying."

h

CHAPTER TWO

Sarah Gentry laughed at Lorilla's desperate plea. Sarah was small and blonde and so vivacious that the air around her seemed to crackle with her energy. She patted Lorilla's hand and pulled her along with her, calling back to Gabriel Beltran. "Gabe, I'm stealing your lovely wife for a bit."

Gabriel's gaze lit briefly on the sheriff's wife, then met Lorilla's eyes. Their depths still held an intensity that made her pulse race.

He looked back at Sarah. "Mrs. Gentry, try very hard not to give away all my secrets before my wife and I have even had time to talk." As he spoke, he smiled at Sarah, and Lorilla felt the full impact of his dark beauty as his eyes sparkled and a faint dimple appeared beneath one sculptured cheekbone. Her breath caught. "I do have to speak with the governor for a moment." He bent over Lorilla's hand. At the last second, he turned her hand over and pressed his lips against her palm, then looked up. "My pardon,
Senora
."
 

As he turned away, Sarah chuckled and fanned her face with her hand. "My, my, Lorilla. Is your new husband not the most handsome man you have ever seen?"

Lorilla nodded, unable to speak. She was confused by her feelings. It was frightening, but also strangely exciting when Gabriel touched her. What was it about him? Curiosity beat in the shallow pulse that leapt in her throat.

"Here. Sit here and I'll get you some punch. Now, there we go." Sarah handed Lorilla a cup of punch and sat beside her. "We'll have a few minutes of quiet."

Lorilla gratefully drank. Its coolness soothed her dry throat, although the icy cup in her hands made her shiver. "Thank you. I'm still not sure what happened. I've been pulled every which way, and now . . . I'm married." This last almost didn't make it past her dry throat. She gulped the rest of the punch.

"Well, people here in Santa Fe have been waiting for a long time for you."

"Have they?" Lorilla shook her head in amazement. "It's hard to believe I've been traveling for five months."

"Well, you're here now. And you've chosen a wonderful husband. We were afraid Gabe would never marry again."

Lorilla stared at Sarah. "Again?"

"Oh dear, I am so sorry." Sarah didn't look the least bit sorry. In fact her brown eyes twinkled. "Did Gabe not tell you he'd been married before? Well, I don't doubt it. As you've probably already discovered, your new husband does not waste words." Sarah leaned closer. "It was a long time ago, before his father died. Elena was Mexican, of the aristocracy, and Gabe's father was determined that his son would have her. Elena was beautiful, but she very delicate. She miscarried twice before she was able to carry a baby to term."

Sarah's eyes clouded with sadness. "The night the baby was born, Gabe was away. By the time he returned, one week later, both she and the little one were dead. That was five years ago"
 

"Oh no!" Lorilla breathed, shocked by the horror of the untimely deaths. She felt as if a giant hand had taken hold of her heart, it ached so. "That is so sad. He lost his wife and his child at the same time?"

"I know." Sarah squeezed her hand. "Is that not just the saddest, most romantic story you have ever heard? Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean romantic exactly. But it's so tragic. They were so young."

Lorilla shook her head. "I didn't know." She stared at the empty cup clutched in her hands. "He must have been devastated." Apprehension grew inside her. Did Gabriel expect her to take the place of his beautiful, young, exotic wife? Why her? Why bring a wife from halfway across the country? There certainly were enough pretty young women here tonight. Why had he chosen her?

Lorilla tried to concentrate on Sarah's words.

"…never been the same since." Sarah sighed. "In the past year or so, however, he has been talking about an heir, a son to continue the Beltran name."
 

"An…an heir?" Lorilla stammered, her face growing warm.
 

Sarah nodded. "I think he is feeling older and lonely. His mother and father are both dead, and his wife and son. But of course, now he has you."

"Yes," Lorilla answered, a strange hollow feeling inside her. "Now he has me."

"Come. Let's get something to eat."

The last thing Lorilla wanted was food, but she followed Sarah. She couldn't force a morsel past the lump in her throat. Sarah's words rang in her ears. Feeling older and lonely. An heir to continue the Beltran name.
 

Lorilla blinked, realizing Sarah had spoken to her. "Pardon me?"

Sarah gestured and smiled. "I said, here is your husband come to fetch you."

A thrill pierced Lorilla's insides as she looked up and saw Gabriel, suddenly at her side. He was tall and strong as an oak tree. His powerful, possessive hand was held out to her. Shyly, she placed her hand in his, and the now familiar thrill coursed through her.

"Thank you, Senora Gentry, for taking care of my wife." He smiled at Sarah, then briefly pressed his lips against Lorilla's fingers. "We should get into place for
La Piñata
."
 

Lorilla wasn't sure if she was relieved or not that he hadn't kissed her palm again. Just the thought of his lips, firm and warm, on her skin made her blush. Dipping her head to cover her confusion, she allowed him to guide her across the courtyard where children gathered, with all the noise and excitement one would expect from youngsters. Lorilla smiled as she watched the little ones bounce up and down, and run and sing.

Some of these boys and girls were the age his child would have been had it lived. She looked up at his profile. His brows were a dark slash across his forehead and his jaw ticked with tension. Did it hurt him to watch these children? Did he feel as alone and bereft as Lorilla had since her mother died? She blinked back tears.

As if he felt her gaze upon him, Gabriel glanced down at her briefly. "Are you all right?" he asked, his hand at her back pulling her closer as the crowd gathered.

As the warmth of his body pressed against hers, all other thoughts flew out of her head. She had never been so close to a man, nor felt the strange excitement that coursed through her whenever he was near. She took a deep breath, trying to slow her rapid pulse.

"Tell me, Senor Beltran," she hesitated over his name, "what is La Piñata?" Her tongue stumbled over the words. She moistened her lips.
 

He raised one eyebrow. His hand slid around her waist, and his fingers curled against her skin. "
La Piñata
is a pottery figure filled with treats for the children. Here it comes now." He pointed toward a smiling man, who carried what looked like a clay donkey on a pole.
 

"The children must take sticks and break the piñata before they can get to the treats."
 

Lorilla watched in fascination as the children swung at the clay donkey again and again, until, with one last heave, a little boy finally broke the piñata and colorful streamers and balls and dolls and hard candies came tumbling down onto the children's heads. Lorilla laughed and clapped her hands.
 

As the children scrambled to pick up the treats, Gabriel whispered to her. "Now we will go back to the church for mass,
Miso de Gallo
, and then we must leave for home."
 

Lorilla nodded. Home. Her heart pounded as they walked to the church. At the door, he lifted the lace mantilla, which had fallen to her shoulders and covered her hair. For a moment, he stood there, his hands poised as if he were cradling her head. Lorilla stood mesmerized as his tense jaw relaxed and his mouth curved upward in a smile.

"What is it?" she asked, then bit her lip in anxiety. "Do I not suit?"

"Si, Senora. You suit. It is just your hair." He touched one fallen tendril, then pushed it back under the mantilla. "It catches the sunset like a prairie fire." He turned his gaze away. "We should sit. Over here." He led her to the carved wooden pew, genuflecting before he sat down beside her.

Later, Lorilla could not recall the service at all. Her whole attention was on her husband, on the long, muscled thigh that brushed against her skirts, on the firm arm resting against hers, on the midnight hair that spilled over the collar of his jacket. She saw it all, even though she never once turned her eyes his way. It was as if she had already memorized his face, his body, his heat.
 

By the time mass was over and Gabriel escorted her through the crowds to a beautifully tooled carriage, she was trembling with fatigue and reaction.

Benito held the carriage door for them. To her surprise, Gabriel put his hands on her waist and lifted her. She felt light as air and giddy as a schoolgirl when he swung her up into the carriage. As she sank into the cushions, she was suddenly acutely aware of every muscle in her body. Each one ached with fatigue. Yawning, she closed her eyes.
 

Immediately, Gabriel's face rose before her inner vision. She was married. The thought sent a shiver up her spine. She was married to a handsome, wealthy stranger and now was on her way to his home. Anticipation warred with anxiety inside her. Gabriel Beltran was so big, so strong, so--masculine. She could not even envision what the next few hours held in store for her.
 

Lorilla had some basic understanding of what was involved in marriage and how it inevitably led to children. But try as she might, she could not imagine actually engaging in such activity. Especially with someone so large and manly as Gabriel Beltran.
 

She sank further into the cushions and wrapped her arms around herself. What had she done, coming here alone to marry a man she did not know? A wealthy, vigorous man who had loved once, had fathered a child and had lost them both. Sarah's words taunted her. Gabriel wanted an heir. Was that all he wanted, someone to bear his child? And if so, what would happen to her after the child was born?
 

And as it had before, the most important question of all echoed in her mind. Why had he chosen her?
 

She thought of her comfortable, shabby rocking chair in front of the fireplace in her stepfather's kitchen. At least there, she had known what to expect. The boys would complain about supper, and Ray would make some insulting remark about her lack of suitors and how much it cost him to feed and clothe her. But her stepbrothers would eventually go to sleep, and Ray would either go to the saloon or fall asleep in his easy chair in the front room, then the night would be hers. She could read or sew or just rock and daydream.