Bride of the Baja (9 page)

Margarita took her brother's arm. "I've waited a year, Esteban," she told him. "I can wait no longer. "

"We cannot risk disgrace. We shall wait until permission is given.” Estanban said. “After that you will be honored, you will be a woman of renown for the wait. You may even become a legend."

"I don't want to be a legend, I want to be a wife. The wife of Jordan Quinn."

"And you shall. Be patient." Esteban looked about the church and found his overseer sitting in the last row of benches. "Senor Huerta," he said in a voice loud enough for all to hear, "there has been an unfortunate, although temporary, delay. How long we must wait, no one yet knows. In the meantime, I wish the
fandango
to begin."

Jordan heard the whine of a mosquito. Damn, he thought. He snuffed his bedroom candles. Damn the mosquitoes, damn the governor, damn Padre Luis, damn Esteban.

He walked onto his balcony, abandoning his journal for the time being. The night was dark, with the moon hidden by high clouds. From a distance he heard guitars and the sounds of singing and laughing. Jordan smiled grimly. A wedding feast without a wedding. A
fandango
without the bride and groom. When Don Esteban had asked them to come, Jordan had cursed and Margarita had fled to her room in tears.

Looking down from the balcony, Jordan saw, in the faint glow from the lanterns, two men walking unsteadily toward the house. Linking their arms, they began to sing a sad, rambling ballad about
la paloma
, the dove. Suddenly one of the men stopped and stretched full-length on the ground. Failing to rouse him from his drunken stupor, his companion went on into the house, his voice raised again in song.

This is the time to act, Jordan told himself. He crossed his room and walked along the gallery. When he came to McKinnon's room, he knocked, slipped inside and whispered a few words to the mate. McKinnon nodded, walked quickly to the stairs and disappeared into the darkness.

Jordan returned to his room. Pushing the bed curtains to one side, he lay down, intending to rest for a few minutes. Instead, he fell asleep almost at once.

Gunshots awakened him. He sat up, not sure where he was until, through the white netting, he saw the glimmering lights from the
fandango.
He swung from the bed and hurried to the gallery and down the steps.

Men ran past him in the dark-- women clustered in small groups. He heard shouts and the clatter of hoofbeats. Another volley of gunshots came from beyond the corral. He smiled to himself. So far, so good.

Jordan found Esteban standing beneath a lantern, giving instructions to men who listened, nodded and then hurried off into the night.

"What happened?" Jordan asked.

Esteban glanced at him impatiently. "Indians. They've stolen our best horses and made off into the mountains. We're preparing to ride after them."

"Can I help?"

"You?" As soon as he spoke, Esteban appeared to realize the scorn in his voice. "If some of them had taken to the sea in one of their canoes," he said in a softer voice, "you could pursue them in the
Kerry Dancer
. In the mountains, no, you would be of no help--we must ride far and fast. We may be gone for many days. I take only the best horsemen and those most skilled with their guns."

Jordan nodded.

"A thousand thanks for your offer," Esteban said.

Without answering, Jordan walked to the courtyard and up the stairs to his room. He waited until he heard the sound of
hoof beats recede in the distance before he sat on his bed and pulled off his shoes and stockings. Going to the balcony, he climbed onto the rail and grasped the tile eaves over his head, pulling himself up onto the roof where, in his bare feet, he climbed across the tiles until he saw the dark dome of the pepper tree beside the house.

Lowering himself from the roof to the balcony nearest the tree, Jordan tapped on the half-open window. He heard a gasp and saw a shimmer of white come toward him.

"Jordan!"

He gently covered Margarita's mouth with the palm of his hand, knowing her aunt slept in the apartment between Margarita's room and the gallery.

"What's happening?" she whispered.

"Indians raided the horses and Esteban's organized a pursuit. This is our chance to escape."

"Do you intend to carry me off on the
Kerry Dancer
?"

"Yes. McKinnon's readying the ship now. We can be miles to sea by the time we're missed. I've had my fill of your Governor Sola." He began to marshal his arguments in his mind, wondering if he could convince her to leave her home and family.

"Hold me," she told him.

He enfolded her in his arms, kissing her hungrily as she clung to him. "My heart, my love," she said.

"Will you come with me?"

"I've already taken what I'll need from my trousseau and packed it in a small chest. All I have to do is put on my gown. I knew you would come for me."

"You're a wonder." He remembered he hadn't thought of her luggage--all he'd need was already aboard ship. "I'll find a rope to lower the chest from the balcony."

"There's no need. I have one hidden beneath my bed." She ran into the room and returned with the rope. "Now turn your back, Jordan. I'll be ready before you know it."

Jordan waited on the balcony with his arms folded across his chest. When he heard the whisper of clothing behind him, he glanced over his shoulder and saw, in the soft light of a candle on the dressing table, Margarita standing in front of a pier glass, naked, her back to him, her body all golden curves and inviting shadows. Jordan stepped into the room, intending to put his arms around her with his hands covering her breasts and his lips burying themselves in her soft, flowing hair.

Margarita put her head and arms into a silky chemise and let it fall down over her body. Clenching his hands at his sides, Jordan turned away. Later, he told himself, there'll be time enough later.

He returned to the balcony and in a few minutes heard her blow out the candle. His gaze searched the darkness of the room without finding her. All at once he felt her arms go around him. Picking her up with his hands on her waist, he held her in front of him, then gathered her body close to his. When she tried to kiss him, he teased her, his lips and tongue touching first her cheeks, then her eyes and the tip of her nose.

Standing on tiptoe, she clasped her hands at the back of his head, holding him while her lips captured his. As the kiss lengthened, his hands slid down her back and over her rounded buttocks, pressing her to him until he felt her breasts against his chest and her leg trapped between his.

They heard a tapping.

Margarita drew back and they both held their breath, listening.

"Margarita, are you all right?" The woman's voice came from across the room.

"Yes, Aunt Maria."

"Sleep well, my child."

"And you."

When she heard the door close, Margarita put her mouth to Jordan's ear. "We must hurry," she told him.

He nodded and lifted her to the balcony railing. Taking her hands in his, he lowered her, leaning over as far as he could without falling.

"Now," she whispered.

Jordan let go. He heard a soft thud and then the rustle of skirts below him.

"I'm all right," she said.

He used the rope to lower her chest, then hung by his hands and dropped to the ground beside her. After manhandling the chest up on one shoulder, he followed her along the side of the house. The heavy scent of orange blossoms sweetened the night. Lantern light shone from behind them and, as Margarita led him to the trees on the far side of the road, he heard a woman laugh.

"The wagon should be waiting near the oaks," he told her.

Margarita took his hand and they followed a path through the grove of trees. All at once she stopped.

"I saw a light," she told him.

He peered into the dark night. He saw nothing, so he waited, interminably, he thought, before a light gleamed for a moment a hundred feet in front of them. The light was gone as quickly as it came.

"It is good," he told her.

Now Jordan led the way, with Margarita's hand small and warm in his. When he neared the place where he had seen the light, he stopped.

"
Erin go bragh
," he said in a low voice.

"Faith and begorra," Jack McKinnon said, burlesqueing an Irish brogue, "if it isn't the captain of the
Kerry Dancer
and his lady."

"You have the wagon?"

McKinnon unshielded his lantern long enough for Jordan to see the mule cart concealed in the trees near the road. After Jordan heaved the chest into the back of the cart, he leaned against one of the large wheels, catching his breath and massaging his aching shoulder.

"What in the name of heaven do you have in that chest?" he asked Margarita when he was seated beside her in the cart.

"A few dresses," she said. "And a few clothes. Shoes, slippers, hats, gloves. And my wedding gown. I want to be a proper bride for you, Captain Quinn."

McKinnon switched the mules with a quirt and the cart rumbled slowly down the road in the direction of the beach. No one was abroad in the night. They reached the ship's boat beached on the sand without being challenged. As soon as they were on board, the sailors from the
Kerry
Dancer
shoved the boat into the surf and rowed, their oars muffled with canvas, to the ship.

After helping Margarita over the side, Jordan stood on the deck looking around him. "Have all hands been called?" he asked the mate.

"They have, sir."

"See that the senorita's chest is stowed in my cabin, if you please."

"Aye aye, sir."

Margarita touched his arm.

"You may either go to our cabin or else stay on deck," Jordan told her before she had a chance to speak. "Out of the way," he added.

She walked to the rail, watching the crewmen climb the ratlines into the rigging. One man slipped, caught himself before he fell and cursed loudly.

"Silence," Jordan ordered. "I don't want the Dons to hear us, Mr. McKinnon." The order was passed from man to man.

"Ready to set sail, sir," McKinnon told him.

"Hands to the windlass, Mr. McKinnon." Jordan turned to the helmsman. "Set a course south by southeast to pass through the channel," he told him.

The windlass clanked as the
Kerry Dancer
weighed anchor. Jordan slipped the ship's spyglass from its case and scanned the shoreline, seeing an occasional light but nothing more. He nodded, so far he and Margarita had not been missed.

He watched the sails unfurl and felt the
Kerry Dancer
gather way before a fair wind that would see her out of the Santa Barbara channel. Already the memory of his time spent ashore had faded--the annoyances, the pettiness, the greed, the tedium of life on land now seemed unimportant. He wondered, for perhaps the thousandth time, how a man could stand to be land-bound all his days when he could be free on the deck of a good ship with all the world awaiting him beyond the horizon.

Suddenly remembering Margarita, he looked around and saw her at the rail, looking out over the sea. Motioning McKinnon to his side, he said softly, "I never want her to know we had a part in that Indian raid on the rancho's horses. Do you understand?"

McKinnon nodded.

Jordan crossed the deck, coming up behind Margarita and caressing the nape of her neck with his fingers. She leaned back against him.

"Do you love the sea?" she asked.

"Of course--it's my life. I've been coming down to the sea since I was a boy."

"The sea must be like a mistress to a man, like a lover."

"A lover? No, Margarita, there's only one woman in my life. You."

A shout came from the lookout high on the foremast. "A light. A light off the starboard bow."

Jordan released Margarita, retrieved the spyglass and peered across the dark sea, but the light was still below the horizon. In ten minutes' time he saw it, a faint glimmer some four leagues to the west. Jordan turned to McKinnon.

"That light's most likely on one of the Channel Islands," he said. "What do you make of it?"

"A bonfire of some sort. The Indians, I suspect, signaling to one another."

Already the light was fading, and in another few minutes they couldn't make it out at all.

"I expect you're right." Jordan shook his head. The unexplained light troubled him.

"Where are we bound?" Margarita asked after McKinnon left them to go forward.

"To our cabin," he said, deliberately misunderstanding her.

"No, this ship. Where is she bound?"

"To San Diego. We'll be married at the mission before they have a chance to hear of the governor's objections." He guided her to the companionway and down to the captain's cabin, shutting the door behind them.