Golden Paradise (Vincente 1) (31 page)

Feeling tired and drained, Valentina turned to Don Alonso. "I would like to bathe and rest for awhile, if someone will show me to my room."

The old grandee cast a look at Dona Anna, knowing she was deliberately snubbing Marquis's wife. It was not like her to be so uncharitable, but then her position had never before been challenged by an outsider—an English woman. "Forgive us all for not making you welcome in your new home," he said, raising his voice so it would reach the ears of his dead son's wife. "I am sure you will find Rosalia waiting outside the door to assist you. She will be happy to show you to your room."

Valentina bent down and placed a kiss on Marquis's brow. He was so still. Her heart ached for what he had suffered, and for what he might yet have to endure. She did not want to leave him. Suppose he were to die! she cried inwardly. Raising her head, she allowed the others to see the tears that were running down her face.

"Forgive me," she sobbed aloud, rushing across the room and out the door. Finding the hallway empty, she collapsed onto a sofa and let the tears flow freely. What would she do if she lost Marquis? He might not love her, but he was her husband and the father of her unborn baby. Her place was beside him, but she knew his mother would never allow her to take that place without a fight. For now, Valentina was fresh out of fight. She was ready to crumple.

Feeling comforting arms go around her, Valentina heard Rosalia's voice. "Come, you are weary. I will see that you have all you require."

Valentina allowed Rosalia to lead her to the room next door to Marquis's. The day had been endless, and she was emotionally drained and physically exhausted. She dropped down on the yellow-draped bed, feeling her body conform to the soft mattress.

"I must take a bath," she said, trying to rise but finding it too much effort.

Rosalia removed Valentina's shoes and pulled a light coverlet over her. "You rest; the bath can wait."

"I want to be awakened in an hour. I want to be awake in case Marquis regains consciousness."

"If you are needed, I will wake you," Rosalia promised, quietly leaving the room and closing the door softly behind her.

Dona Anna looked at her father-in-law, knowing he was displeased with her. "Do not tell me you were taken in by the girl's tears? She does not care for my son or she would never have allowed him to endanger his life. It is her fault that my Marquis may die or become a cripple."

Don Alonso cared deeply for his dead son's wife, but he knew she could sometimes be a hard, unbending woman—especially where her son was concerned. "I do not think it was out of the ordinary for Valentina to cry, Anna. After all, today was her wedding, her husband is gravely ill, and she is spending her wedding night alone."

"I will not leave Marquis tonight," Dona Anna declared. "If he dies, the English woman will become a very wealthy widow. Have you thought of that?"

Don Alonso stood up and slowly walked to the door. "No, I had not thought of that and I do not believe Valentina has either. I saw love in her eyes as she stood over Marquis. One day I may tell you how fortunate you are that your son married this English woman and not Isabel Estrada."

"Isabel is of our kind. She would have made a far better wife for Marquis," Dona Anna stated airily.

"Why belabor the point. That will never happen now. I suggest you look to your son, senora. Leave his personal life for him to settle when he recovers."

Dona Anna ignored the opening and closing of the door. Only when she was alone with her son did she allow the tears to fall. Her son, her precious son, had betrayed his heritage by taking the English woman as his bride. She touched his face, fearing she would lose him—if not to death, then to Valentina. She had the feeling that Marquis's new wife would try to cut her out of her son's life completely.

In the room next door to Valentina, Marquis thrashed on his bed of pain, his body burning as if it were on fire.

"Silver Eyes," he cried out, needing to feel the soothing hand of his beloved cooling his fevered brow. "I love you," he whispered. In his nightmare world, he yearned for the touch of Valentina's hand, the sound of her voice.

"Sleep, my son," Dona Anna told him, not understanding his rambling or the name he mumbled. "I will stay with you," she promised.

The bright California moon moved across the ebony sky, shining down on Valentina's wedding night, spreading its light into her bedroom. The gentle glow fell across her face without disturbing her sleep. It was a lover's moon, hung in the sky as though a gift for the newly married couple.

As the moonlight filtered across the darkened shadows of the room, Valentina moaned in her sleep, trying to wake, knowing there was something she had to do, somewhere she had to be. Fighting against the drugged sleep that claimed her as its victim, Valentina called out Marquis's name to the silent room.

On the floor, beside Valentina's bed, lay the crumpled wedding bouquet—its sweet aroma fading, the blossoms wilted and dying.

23

Valentina tossed and turned on the bed as her dream turned into a nightmare. She was running from something, but she could not see what it was. The more frightened she became, the more her legs felt like heavy weights and the more difficult it was to run. Suddenly her back was against a wall, and she could go no farther. A swirling mist clung to the air, and whatever it was that had been pursuing her was hiding there. Moaning, she turned over in her sleep.

The dream continued as she glanced down at her feet to see Marquis lying wounded and unconscious. That was when she realized that the horrible thing that had been chasing her was not after her at all—it wanted Marquis! From out of nowhere a sword came sailing through the air to land in Valentina's hand. Gripping the handle, she wielded the sword over her head, determined she would defend Marquis with her last breath. Thrusting the sword forward, she heard a hideous roar and knew she had mortally wounded the faceless, nameless demon.

Going down on her knees, she hugged Marquis to her. He was all right; she had saved him. "You haven't saved him," a deep, raspy voice told her. "It is because of you that he must die: You are the instrument of his death!"

"No," Valentina moaned. "No, I would never harm Marquis; I love him."

Fighting her way out of the nightmare, she jerked upright in bed, coming fully awake. It took several moments for her thundering heart to return to normal. The bedroom was illuminated by the bright moonlight, and she remembered that she was at Paraiso del Norte.

Valentina feared the nightmare might very well become true, and Marquis might die. Finding she was fully clothed, she slipped out of bed, pushed into her shoes, and hurried out the bedroom door.

The hallway was aglow with several candelabra, arranged on low tables. Valentina paused for just a moment before Marquis's bedroom before opening the door. His room was mostly in shadows, with only the light of a single candle burning. Valentina did not see Dona Anna until she heard the whispered prayer. Marquis's mother was on her knees, her folded hands clasping a rosary.

For a moment, Valentina stood silently, not wanting to disturb Dona Anna at her prayer. Looking at Marquis, she thought his condition appeared the same as when she had left earlier. Needing to feel close to Marquis's mother so they could share their fear, she walked soundlessly across the room. Touching Marquis's face, she thought he felt cooler.

Dona Anna finally realized she was not alone and tossed Valentina a heated glance. "I do not need you to relieve me. Go back to bed. I will stay with my son," the older woman declared.

Valentina dropped down on her knees, taking Marquis's hand in hers. "I do not want to relieve you, Dona Anna. I merely want to pray with you. Perhaps God will hear us better if we both ask him to save Marquis."

Marquis's mother nodded slowly, willing to accept any spiritual help to save her son. Turning back to her prayer, she paid little attention to her new daughter-in-law. It was not in her nature to send someone away when she wanted to pray—not even the English woman.

Hours slipped by, and still the two women remained on their knees, praying for Marquis's recovery. After awhile, Valentina noticed that Dona Anna had fallen asleep with her head resting on the bed, her hands still clasped in prayer. She did not know what time it was, but her body was stiff and cold, and her back ached painfully.

Valentina was about to release Marquis's hand so she could rub her aching neck muscles when she felt his fingers tighten on hers. Slowly she stood up, fearing she had only imagined his firm grip. When she found his eyes open, Valentina's joy and relief showed on her face.

Bending over him, she laid her hand on his brow. "Are you in pain, Marquis?" she asked softly, hoping he would have some kind of feeling in his legs.

"How did I get here?" he wanted to know. "The last thing I remember was standing before the priest. Are we man and wife?"

Valentina brushed her tears away and nodded, realizing Marquis still clutched her hand. "Yes, I am your wife. You have been very ill, but you will get better now." She nodded toward his mother, who still slept with her head resting on the bed. "Your mother's prayers probably went as far as the doctor's medicine in healing you.

Marquis closed his eyes—he could rest now. Valentina belonged to him; she was his wife. He did not want to think about anything just yet; he was too tired. He only wanted to sleep. He was not even aware that there was no longer any pain in his legs. He did not realize that there was no feeling at all. He obediently allowed Valentina to lift his head and give him a cooling drink of water.

"How long has it been since we left the mission?" he asked.

"Only yesterday," she answered. "You have been asleep most of the time."

"This should have been your wedding night," he replied in a drowsy whisper. Already a calming, peaceful sleep was overtaking him, and he did not see Valentina's tears as they fell freely down her face.

"Silver eyes that haunt my dreams," Marquis whispered sleepily. "Silver eyes . . . silver eyes," he muttered over and over.

Valentina's heart was singing with happiness. Marquis was going to live!

Going down on her knees, she gently shook Dona Anna. When the older woman's eyes snapped open, she quickly started murmuring a prayer. "It's going to be all right, Dona Anna," Valentina said. "Marquis woke for just a moment. He is cooler and sleeps the sleep of healing."

The older woman tried to stand, but her legs gave way under her and she grabbed the bedpost, unable to move. Valentina placed her hand around Dona Anna's waist and helped her to her feet, thinking how devotedly Marquis's mother had watched over her son.

Dona Anna stumbled forward and touched her son's face to satisfy herself that his fever had broken. Her cheeks were glistening with tears as she picked up Marquis's hand and kissed it. "God has been merciful," she said. "He has given my son back to me."

Valentina could see Dona Anna swaying on her feet and knew she must get her to bed or she would collapse. Placing a guiding arm about her shoulder, she spoke kindly. "I will stay with Marquis now. Allow me to take you to your room. I promise I will let you know the moment there is any change in Marquis's condition."

"I cannot leave him," Dona Anna argued. "He may wake up and need me."

"He will always need you, Dona Anna, but he will need you more in the days to come. Right now, he is sleeping peacefully and I doubt that he will wake for hours. Get some rest so you can be with him later."

Dona Anna's eyes searched Valentina's face. Seeing no malice there but rather genuine concern, she let her shoulders droop and she nodded her acceptance of Valentina's statement. "I will go to my room now. As you have done, I will only sleep for a short time."

Valentina saw the fire that snapped briefly in Dona Anna's eyes and realized she still had not accepted her as Marquis's wife. She dreaded the confrontations that were yet to come. She vowed for Marquis's sake that she would make every effort to maintain peace with his mother.

"Will you allow me to help you to your room, Dona Anna?" Valentina asked.

"No, you stay with my son. Do not fall asleep in case he needs you, and do not leave this room. I hope you are capable of tending someone who is ill."

Valentina could have reminded Dona Anna that she, herself, had fallen asleep moments ago. She could also have reminded her that she had tended her mother who was ill, but she saw nothing to be gained by prolonging the conversation. Dona Anna's voice carried the ring of a commanding officer. Valentina had never before met anyone like Dona Anna, but she was determined not to lose her temper with the woman. At the moment they were both tired and under a great deal of strain. Their tempers were frayed.

"I will not fall asleep, Dona Anna," she promised. "Rest, with the assurance that I will send for you if I need help."

Marquis's mother moved slowly across the room, as if she were reluctant to leave her son alone with Valentina. After she had gone, Valentina pulled up a chair beside the bed and sat down. She did not know what time it was, but the moon was riding low and the morning star was fading in the ebony skies.

Taking Marquis's hand in hers, Valentina stared into his sleeping face. His features were not rugged like Tyree's, but finely chiseled. His eyebrows arched over his eyes. Long lashes lay like shadows against his cheeks, covering those wonderful dark eyes that always disturbed her peace of mind. His nose was in perfect proportion to his firm lips—lips that could ease into a smile or clamp tightly together when he was displeased about something.

Hair as dark as a raven's wing was swept across his forehead. Gently, so she would not disturb his rest, she touched his hair, finding it soft and silky. There was nothing soft about the man, she thought. He was a man who was made to lead, to command other men—and to break women's hearts.

Her hand drifted down his face. This moment belonged to her alone. This was the first time she had been able to watch Marquis—to touch him—to allow her love to shine in her eyes. His olive complexion was not as pale as it had been earlier. Dark stubble covered his lower jaw, for it had been almost a full day since he had shaved.

Valentina's eyes moved lower. Since Marquis wore no nightshirt, she could see his smooth, bare chest. Unable to resist the urge to touch him, she laid her hand against his chest, thankful to feel the rise and fall of his breathing beneath her fingertips. He was the handsomest man she had ever known, and probably the most complicated. She wondered if she would ever understand Marquis or his mood changes.

Leaning back, Valentina lifted her legs into the chair and curled up, still watching her sleeping husband. Everything had happened so quickly, and she was dazed and bewildered. She was a wife, but she did not feel like one. She would soon be a mother, but she did not want to be  one.  Her  own mother would be shocked at the suddenness of her marriage. How would she ever make her mother understand why she had married Marquis without consulting her?

When Marquis groaned in his sleep, Valentina reached for his hand and spoke to him in a soothing voice. "Sleep, Marquis. I will stay beside you."

After that, Marquis seemed to settle down and Valentina began her long vigil through the remainder of the night. When he became restless and threw off the covers, she would hold his injured legs and talk to him quietly until he became calm again.

When the doctor came a few hours later, he found Valentina still at Marquis's bedside watching over him. "What a pretty nurse you make," he said, placing his black bag on the foot of the bed. Moving past Valentina, he picked up Marquis's hand, taking his pulse.

Valentina gave the doctor a tired smile as she watched him check Marquis's eyes to make sure he was sleeping and not unconscious. "What time is it?" she asked, standing up and stretching her aching muscles.

"The sun is not yet up. It must be near six o'clock. How did our patient fare during the night?"

"He was restless at times, but for the most part he slept peacefully. His fever seems to be gone."

"What about yourself? Did you rest?"

"Yes, some."

"Do you feel up to assisting me while I redress the bandages on Marquis's legs?"

"Of course. Just tell me what you want me to do."

"Good girl. I am going to remove the bandage and see if the infection is better or worse. Since he has no fever, my guess is that he is on the way to recovery."

Valentina was quick to follow orders as the doctor issued them. She helped him unwrap the bandages and held Marquis's leg while he examined it carefully. She could see that the wound still appeared to be inflamed, but it did not look as bad as it had the night before; some of the swelling had gone down. Marquis did not even stir or open his eyes when the doctor cleansed the wound.

"He is better, isn't he?" she asked the doctor as he applied ointment and rewrapped his legs.

"Considering all he has been through, I'd say he was making a remarkable recovery."

Valentina was afraid to ask, but she had to know. "Is it too soon to tell if he has lost the use of his legs?"

"Yes, much too soon to tell"—Doctor Agustin studied her over the rim of his glasses—"unless you noticed any movement in them last night that was not in conjunction with his body movements. Did you see the legs move on their own?"

"When he was restless last night, I held his legs on the pillow. I got the feeling all the movement came from his body, not his legs."

"Give it time, Valentina." He snapped his black bag together and smiled at her. "You do not mind if I call you Valentina, do you?"

"No, of course not . . . please do."

"Walk with me to the door. I have a few things to say to you and I would rather not risk being overheard." Without waiting for her to comply, he took her arm and steered her away from Marquis's bed. When he thought they were out of earshot, he released her arm and smiled.

"You are feeling bewildered by this family, are you not?"

". . . Yes," she admitted reluctantly.

"I have known the Vincente family for longer than I care to remember. I brought Marquis and Rosalia into this world. I even brought Marquis's father into the world. God be willing, I will be on hand when your and Marquis's son comes into this world. There is love in this family. Don Alonso and Rosalia give it willingly, while Dona Anna is much more reserved with her feelings. She has a kind nature, and, if you are patient, she will soon warm to you."