Treasure of the Sun (38 page)

Julio's grin widened, became sincere. "I do like you. Now I understand why Damian had the sense to snatch you from the widowhood." With a nasty grimace, he added, "Even if it put a stain on his pure Spanish bloodlines."

"Julio," Damian warned. "Such a description of my wife can only lead to your eventual anguish."

Katherine glared at Damian. Julio aimed his arrows to wound Damian, she knew, but she didn't want her husband to defend her. She could defend herself, and she discovered she disliked being described as a blot. Lifting a slice of cheese-filled tortilla roll to her lips, she said, "Your father was a foreign sailor, no doubt." Inserting it into her mouth, she chewed and swallowed.

He watched her with subdued fire. "It added to the shame of my birth."

"No doubt," she repeated. She picked up another slice of tortilla and stared, startled, as he removed it from her.

Carrying her fingers to his lips, he kissed them. "An extraordinary woman."

A choking sound turned them to the doorway. There stood Nacia, her hand pressed to her lips in unconscious imitation of Julio's gesture.

Like the court jester who performed for an appreciative court, Julio gobbled up the line of Katherine's fingers, up her palm, up her wrist. He stopped when she flicked his nose, hard. With outrageous panache, he waved Nacia to the spot beside Damian. "Isn't this cozy? Two married couples, as friendly as they can be."

Damian stood as Nacia scurried over to him. Between clenched teeth, he said, "Julio, you are a cad, and I can still beat you to a bloody pulp."

Katherine heard Nacia's inarticulate protest, and she insisted, "I can handle Julio and his stupid playacting."

"You are not required to handle him. You have a husband now." Damian's dignity was a palpable presence.

His assumption of authority annoyed Katherine more than Julio's nonsense. "I can handle him."

With wicked glee, Julio said, "Of course she can handle me, Damian. I'll help her in every way possible."

Nacia tugged at Damian's coat as he stepped forward, and Katherine eyed Julio with an unfavourable scowl.

Boyishly innocent, he shrugged "Damian, where do you take this lovely creature in such a hurry?"

With one final hard look, Damian accepted the change of subject. "Don't you know?"

"Should I?" Obeying the command of Damian's gaze, Julio replaced Katherine's hand to her plate.

Damian sat down and stretched back in a parody of relaxation. "Everyone else knows, I fear."

"Who?" Katherine asked.

"Mi vida," Damian mocked, "even the vaqueros know where we go and what we search for. Didn't you hear what they said? It's the curse of the treasure that broke Joaquin's leg, the curse of the treasure that brought Americans camping on our river to shoot our people. From this moment forth, every tick in the vaqueros' hair or rip in their clothes will be the fault of the treasure. They'll have to be sent back to Rancho Donoso. They're no good to us if they're afraid to go on."

Julio leaned over the table and took a tortilla. "You're seeking the treasure of the padres? Such a honeymoon."

"My wife insisted," Damian answered.

Missing the humor, Nacia shook her head in reproof. "That's not a wise idea, Katherina. As the vaqueros know, there are some frightening legends attached to that treasure."

Damian ignored her as he would ignore a babbling child.

"Katherine insisted on taking a relative along, too."

Nacia looked shocked. "Oh, Katherina, taking a relative on your honeymoon will put a strain on your husband."

Katherine pretended she didn't hear either of them. Not Damian with his misplaced whimsy. Not Nacia with her serious counsel.

With a deft touch, Julio wrapped frijoles in the tortilla and nibbled at the corner. "That makes it a novel honeymoon, indeed. Where is this relative?"

Damian stroked his mustache. "He prefers to follow us at a distance, when he's not running ahead like a scared rabbit. A paltry fellow, but he worries me."

Katherine put her plate down, wiping her fingers, one by one, on her napkin. "My cousin worries you?"

"If these simple Indians deduced our plans, who else has? Is your Lawrence Cyril Chamberlain watching us for that reason? That makes more sense than an unending vigil of cousinly love."

"He's not my Lawrence Cyril Chamberlain," she cried, stung. "He's not my cousin," he retorted.

Julio stepped in with a smoothness that belied his previous mischief making. "No, some of Damian's relatives are much more annoying."

"That's rude, Julio," Nacia chided.

It seemed Julio knew his wife, for he asked, "Don't you think Damian's relatives are annoying?"

Katherine watched as Nacia struggled, torn between her manners and her honesty. "Well ... yes. Damian's relatives can be annoying." She brightened. "But they mean well."

"Come now, my wife, you know that's not always true. When Damian's aunt and uncle moved to San Diego to be close to their offspring, you told me you wanted to congratulate Damian and commiserate with the children."

"Well, yes, but-" she stared at Julio in bright-eyed challenge "-they aren't as awful as my parents."

His smirk vanished; his wicked teasing halted. He stared at his wife as if she'd spouted horns and a tail, then he erupted with laughter. "My marvelous, marvelous wife." He took her hand and dragged her toward him.

Her skirt bumped the table, rattling the dishes. She sputtered, "No, no," but he paid no attention.

Seating her on his knee, he snuggled his cheek close to hers.

"You're a never-ending bundle of surprises."

Her face flushed, but her resistance vanished beneath his admiration. "It's true! They are awful."

Rubbing her back, hugging her waist, he betrayed the way he felt about Nacia. "I'm not arguing, but why are you complaining now?"

Nacia's gaze darted to Katherine and back to Julio. "Dona Katherina says what she wants to. Why not me?"

"Why not indeed?" Julio echoed.

Katherine's gaze met Damian's. This was the first time she'd seen the attraction that brought the unlikely pair together. The heiress and the bastard, as different as two people could be, yet they created a space around them that shimmered with amor. It made Katherine ashamed of the quarrel that divided Damian and her.

Damian, too, seemed to struggle with his emotions, for his eyes gleamed when he took her hand. As he leaned forward to speak, he glanced down the drive. Katherine followed his stare. Julio looked up from his contemplation of Nacia, and she turned last of all. Two identical palomino horses moved toward them, carrying a gentleman and a lady dressed in riding costumes made of identical material. The striking couple was followed by a black carriage, pulled by a horse of enormous size.

Julio spoke first. "Speak of the devil."

"No, not now," Nacia breathed.

Nose to nose with her, Julio said, "Does that mean you didn't realize they were coming?"

"I didn't know," Nacia denied. "When has my mother ever believed she wouldn't be welcome?"

Their brief accord over, she sought to rise from Julio's lap, but he jerked her back down. To the mounted couple who had halted before the porch, he yelled, "Greetings. To what do we owe this honor?"

Katherine stared. His style was coarse, his manners nonexistent. His attitude would bring hostility from a saint, but the stately lady and the noble gentleman seemed to find it no more than they expected.

The lady looked them all over with calm disdain. "Maria Ygnacia," she intoned. "Seating yourself on a man's lap is the height of vulgarity."

Desperation, immediate and complete, marred Nacia's face and bled into her voice. "Mama, he's my husband."

"All the more reason to discourage such display." The woman Nacia called "Mama" waved the hovering servant over. The stableboy jumped as if he'd had a needle stuck in him, stumbling in his haste to assist the lady. She frowned at him reprovingly. He dropped his head and scuffed his feet in the dirt before leading her mount to the step.

On her feet, she proved to be a tall, big-boned woman dressed in the height of fashion. Her husband matched her, in height, dress, and, Katherine suspected, disposition. Their expressions rivaled each other's. They looked as if they smelled something sour, and they strode up the stairs as if they were determined to find it.

The lady glanced around the veranda. "I had these servants trained when I left this hacienda. Are they all incapable of work, now?"

With an inward groan, Katherine remembered the dusty house. Trying to ease the tension, she said, "Nacia's a tremendous hostess. Uninvited, we arrived on her doorstep, and she's made us welcome."

The lady's hat had the tallest feather Katherine had ever seen.

It bobbed in a maddening pattern as she examined every inch of Katherine in a scornful sweep. "Who are you?"

"This is Damian's wife Katherine." Nacia sounded so nervous Katherine could almost hear her teeth chatter.

Nacia's mother looked Katherine over again; Katherine bridled her urge to check her buttons to see if they were fastened.

Trying to divert the comment that trembled on her mother's lips, Nacia burst out, "Not really his wife. Damian and Katherine haven't been married in the Church, but they were married by Alcalde Diaz in Monterey and they've come all this way-" she jumped as if Julio had pinched her "-so they can visit." Guilt etched her face; guilt that she'd almost betrayed their errand to her parents. Julio let her get to her feet. "Isn't that sweet?"

"Senora." Gravely, Damian indicated the bench he had left.

"Take my seat, por favor."

The lady seated herself, Katherine noted, as if she were a queen gracing the rough wood with her royal body. She wouldn't, or couldn't, relax against the seat back, and that contributed to her haughty air. With no trace of motherly affection, she indicated the spot beside her and ordered Nacia, "Sit."

"I have to go . . . tell the cook you are here," Nacia said, and fled.

"In my home," the lady said into the air, "the servants make the adjustment without being informed."

"True, too true," Nacia's father grunted. He went to take his place behind his wife.

The lady addressed Katherine. "I am Senora Ygnacia Arcadia Rodriguez. My friends call me Dona Ygnacia. In your case it would be best to call me Senora Rodriguez, since I'm sure there has been some mistake."

Astonished by such rudeness from one of the dignified matrons of California, Katherine observed Nacia's mother. This intimidating woman stated the facts as she saw them, with a rare and total lack of consideration for her victim. Faced with such impervious righteousness, Katherine said the only sensible thing. "Si, Senora Rodriguez."

Benevolence settled onto the lady's face. "Very good. First, I must tell you that we do not call my daughter by that disgraceful nickname. Her name is Maria Ygnacia. She was named after Jose's mother and my mother, and myself. All honorable women, honoring the child and heir of both families."

Katherine wondered at the weight of so much honor on Nacia's fragile shoulders, but Senora Rodriguez didn't require an answer. Sailing on without interruption, she said, "Don Damian, this woman you claim to have married seems to be an American. "

"She was born in the United States," Damian conceded. "I am an American," Katherine added.

Senora Rodriguez shook her head in solemn distaste. "This is not acceptable. The scion of the distinguished de la Sola family cannot wed a nobody from a heathen land. It is fortunate that you had the chance to discuss this with me before the two of you were locked together by the Holy Mother Church."

"True, too true," Senor Rodriguez said. "Listen to my wife, Don Damian. She knows best."

Damian stood straight and spoke clearly. "There is no discussion. Katherine is mi esposa."

Senora Rodriguez sat just as straight and spoke just as clearly. "A young man's fantasy of love is nothing more than the trap of a willing female body in bed. This woman may be your wife now, but she's more suited to the duties of mistress." She pointed at Katherine, one well-manicured fingernail disapproving. "Look at her. She is blond, a magnet for our dark complexioned men." The finger lifted, and she pointed it towards the ceiling. "But that is no reason for a commitment. Why, I do not doubt that the bizarre coloring is the reason my daughter became enamored of such an unsuitable man, also."