The Christmas Treasure (3 page)

To any casual onlooker, it would seem that at last, her daydreams had come true. She was married. She had a home. But just exactly what lay ahead for her? She leaned her head back against the carriage seat and let her thoughts drift.
 

The next thing Lorilla knew was the feel of a strong, warm hand on her shoulder. She sat up blinking. It took her a few seconds to focus on the intense blue eyes that studied her face with a trace of amusement. Gabriel Beltran.
Her husband
.
 

"We're home, Senora."

"Home?" The words sliced through her like a well-stropped razor.
Home
. He couldn't know what that word meant to her. She looked around. The night was pitch dark, except for torches that drew strange shadows on whitewashed arches and played over a terra cotta terrace. Behind the arches loomed a huge, shadowed building, with pale lights flickering in its windows.
 

She covered a yawn with her hand, and pushed her hair away from her face. All the while, she felt Gabriel's gaze on her. She supposed he was waiting for her to make an appropriate response.
 

"It's beautiful," she offered.

"It's as dark as the inside of a root cellar, Senora. You should save your compliments for something you can actually see."  
 

Suppressing an overwhelming urge to stick her tongue out at him like her youngest stepbrother, Lorilla lifted her chin and straightened her bodice of her dress.

Gabriel leaped from the carriage and offered his hand to her. "Come, enter your new home."

So here she was, on the brink of a new life, married, hundreds of miles from the only people she knew. She smiled wanly. "Thank you, Senor Beltran."

He stared at her without moving, then he raised one brow and smiled, a false smile if she had ever seen one. "You are welcome, Senora Beltran."

Lorilla had no trouble telling that his words were a lie.
 

h
 

CHAPTER THREE

Gabriel swung her down from the carriage and guided her across the terrace, through the torch-lit arches, to a set of double doors. As they approached, the doors flew open and Lorilla faced a short, round woman with snapping black eyes and a tight bun of coal black hair. "Senor Gabriel," she said in greeting.
 

The sound of his name in the woman's voice was beautiful, the name of an angel rather than that of a very large, very intimidating man. She bit her lip nervously.
 

"Josepha." Gabriel's tone was stern. "I trust our rooms have been made ready?"
 

"Si, Senor. Even though I have only hours of notice, I still manage to make the rooms comfortable and clean." Josepha turned her sharp black eyes on Lorilla. "I am very sure the Senora will be pleased."
 

Lorilla opened her mouth to agree, but Josepha didn't give her time.
 

"So you are the new young Senora. Ah, but you are
muy bonita
.
Est muy bonita
, eh?" she said in an aside to Gabriel.
 

He didn't respond.

"So come, come, Senora. You must be so tired, after the long journey. Where is your
duenna
?" Josepha looked beyond them to the closed front doors, then back to Lorilla, disbelief shining in her eyes.
 

"Duenna?" Lorilla repeated. She shook her head. "I'm sorry…"

"Your ah, maid, your servant."

"I'm afraid I don't have a…maid." Lorilla's face burned. What would these people think if they knew that she had
been
the servant in her stepfather's household?
 

Gabe spoke rapidly in Spanish to Josepha. Josepha spat words back at him as if she rather than he towered over everyone. Had Lorilla been less intimidated by both of them, she might have smiled at the picture of the small woman scolding the tall, imposing man.

Josepha turned to her. "Senora, it is regrettable that you have no servant to see to your needs on the long journey. From this moment, I will be most happy to look after you."

"Josepha, thank you, but I'm not used to having a servant. And please, call me Lorilla."

The small woman beamed as she shook her head. "No, no. That would never do. So…Senora Lorilla, you would like a bath sent up, yes?"

Lorilla stared at Josepha in stunned disbelief. "A bath? Really? But it must be long after midnight. That would be entirely too much trouble. I can't ask you--"

"No, no. You have the long journey. I send hot water immediately. Gabriel, show your wife to your rooms."

Gabriel frowned at Josepha, and again, Lorilla had an urge to smile at the way she apparently ran the household like a little general. He guided Lorilla to the magnificent polished wood staircase that dominated the front hall of the house. Her boots clicked and Gabriel's resounded deeply on the smooth clay tiles laid in an intricate pattern over the floor.
 

"Your home is beautiful, Senor Beltran," she said, although her lips wanted to speak his other name, his given name Gabriel. "And this time there is enough candlelight to see."
 

A short, sharp sound from her husband made her think he'd laughed, but when she turned her head, his gaze was on the top of the staircase and his face was shuttered.

"Is everything all right?"

"What? Yes, everything is fine. Turn right here at the top of the stairs. Our rooms are here."

He led her through a set of double doors into a large sitting room, complete with a cheery fire in the fireplace. Dark wood gleamed in the firelight. On either side of the room were doors. Gabriel gestured toward the doors on his left. "Your dressing room." Then to the right. "My dressing room and our bedroom."

Our
bedroom. Lorilla swallowed, and felt her pulse pounding in her throat. She tried to smile, although her lips quivered. "It is lovely. Just lovely."
 

She bit her lip. She sounded like an idiot, repeating the same words over and over again, but she was literally overwhelmed at the wealth and splendor that surrounded her. She had never seen anything like these rooms. They were larger than her stepfather's whole house.
 

She glanced at Gabriel, but his face was unreadable. Pushing tendrils of hair back into place, she composed her face and tried to pretend she saw this sort of thing every day. Consciously forcing her mouth not to gape wide in astonishment, she took in the lavish sitting room--the carved wood, the deep burgundy and green tapestries, the low tables and comfortable chairs gathered around the fireplace. Nothing, not the long journey during which she had fantasized about her new husband, not Ray's assurances that Gabriel Beltran was wealthy, had prepared her. She shivered, stunned.
 

"Cold?" Gabriel's voice sounded distracted. Lorilla realized she was standing in the middle of the room, with her arms wrapped about herself.

She smiled tentatively at him. "A little. More tired, I think."

He frowned and Lorilla regretted her words. "I don't mean to complain."

"Not at all, Senora." He dismissed her worries. "You have been traveling for months. I regret that you were subjected to the wedding and to
Nochebuena
on the same day. Had it been possible, I would have brought you straight home. But I have certain responsibilities in the capital."
 

"The capital?"

"Santa Fe is the territorial capital."

"Oh, of course, I understand." Lorilla turned away from his intense gaze. She stepped closer to the fire and shivered again, this time with chill.

"There is Benito now with your hot water, just in time to keep you from freezing. I will leave you to your bath."

Lorilla whirled, but he was gone. She opened the door to the dressing room.

"Ah, Senora Lorilla. We will have two more buckets of water, then you may relax in your bath." Josepha turned on Benito, and regaled him with a long, lyrical string of Spanish words that seemed to have no effect whatsoever on the wizened little man. He merely continued to pour steaming water into the hipbath.
 

"The driver bring up your bag." Josepha nodded toward Lorilla's worn carpetbag. "The rest will come?"

Lorilla shook her head, her face growing warm. "No. Um, I didn't bring a lot. Coming here," she gestured vaguely, "I didn't think it would be necessary."

"Of course. The new Senora Beltran will have a new wardrobe." If possible, Josepha's face beamed even more brightly. "We will order fabric next week and begin."

"Oh, but, I didn't mean --"

"This will be so exciting, to have someone to sew for again."

"
Again
?" Lorilla repeated before she could stop herself.
 

"Ah, forgive me." Josepha gestured dismissively. "I do not offend? It is only that since Elena died, there has been not much brightness here at the hacienda. However," she beamed at Lorilla, "I believe you return the sunshine to the rancho, yes."

"Josepha…" Just as Lorilla spoke, Benito lumbered in, weighted down by two more buckets of steaming water.

Lorilla welcomed the interruption. She had been about to ask Josepha about Elena. Benito had certainly saved her from embarrassment. Gabriel's first wife was none of her business.
 

Josepha shooed Benito out as soon as he was done, speaking rapid Spanish to him the whole time. "
Vamanos
," she finally cried and waved her apron at him as if he were a banty rooster.
 

"Thank you, Benito," Lorilla called as Josepha slammed the door behind him.

Putting thoughts of the first Senora Beltran out of her head, Lorilla dipped her hand into the water. "A hot bath," she murmured. "I don't even remember the last time I bathed in hot water." She unpinned her hair and shook it out, then twisted it into a messy knot on top of her head. "I feel like I'm dragging half the dust in Texas along with me."

Josepha placed soft cloths and towels on a table and unwrapped a square of soap. "This soap, it is from France. You will smell like springtime."

"Oh, thank you, Josepha."

Josepha stood calmly next to the tub.

Lorilla waited, but the little woman didn't seem inclined to leave. "Um, Josepha. I don't really need any help with bathing. And I'm sure you must be exhausted." she stopped delicately, and gestured toward the door.

"Ah," Josepha said, then giggled. "
Si
. I understand perfectly. The Senor, he is back soon."
 

"Oh, wait, on second thought --" Lorilla started but Josepha held up a quelling hand.

"No, no, that is quite all right, Senora Lorilla. Such a pretty name for a pretty young woman. I leave you to your bath, and to your new husband." Josepha bustled out of the room, leaving Lorilla standing in the middle of the floor, her cheeks burning.

"But, I didn't mean --"

The door closed, and Lorilla was alone for the first time since she had embarked on her journey. Alone with a bath of hot water, sent up just for her. She was surrounded with such luxury as she had never imagined. She closed her eyes and saw herself gliding through the corridors of the hacienda, dressed in the latest fashion, her loving husband by her side. Gabriel's hand would be at her waist, and he would incline his head to listen to her, then smile indulgently and lift her hand to his lips, and…

Lorilla looked down and saw that she had lifted her hand as if for a kiss. She lowered it quickly, then darted a glance around the room, thankful that no one had witnessed her daydream.
 

Quickly undressing, Lorilla rummaged in her bag until she found the soft flannel gown she had bought with the last of her egg money. It was long sleeved, with tiny buttons all the way down the front. She laid it carefully on the table, then slipped out of her underclothes and stepped into the bath.

"Ahh," she sighed, as her foot sank into the hot, clean water. Her body began to shiver as she sank into the hot water. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back as the warmth flowed through her. But soon, mindful of how quickly the water would cool, she picked up a cloth and the bar of soap.
 

After sniffing appreciatively at the delicate scent, she quickly worked up a lather. As she washed and rinsed her body, it seemed as though pounds of dust and grime melted away from her. The soap was the finest she had ever touched. To her skin, the difference between it and the lye soap she had always used could not be expressed in words.
 

By the time she finished bathing, the warm water had sapped what little strength she'd had. Her limbs felt boneless, and her eyes kept drifting shut.
 

A noise at the door roused her. "Josepha?" she said. "You may have to help me out of the bath. My bones have turned to jelly."

A deep chuckle sounded behind her. It was Gabriel. "Josepha's gone to bed. I think I can handle you," he said.
 

Lorilla gasped and a thrill ran up her spine. She peered over her shoulder and met his blue gaze. He had apparently bathed as well, because his black hair was damp and slicked back from his forehead. His face was newly shaven and he wore a floor-length dark blue robe belted at his lean waist. A few droplets of water glistened on the exposed skin of his chest. Lorilla found the water droplets fascinating. She watched one drop as it traveled from his collarbone down until it disappeared beneath the robe.

"Senora?"

Her gaze flashed to his, and she knew that he knew where she was looking. She blushed. "What...what are you doing in here?"

He smiled lazily as he stepped closer. "These are my rooms."

"Oh, of course. But, I'm not dressed. Could you, um…"

"Leave?" He shook his head, his smile fading. "No."

He kept coming. Desperately, Lorilla reached for one of the towels, but Gabriel plucked it from right under her fingertips. He unfolded it and held it up in front of him, like a bullfighter taunting a bull.