The Spanish Outlaw (7 page)

“Anton,” she whispered, thinking to stop him, but her voice trailed off as she met his
smoldering gaze.

“You are beautiful. I have never seen hair so lovely.”

She forced a small laugh. “It’s just hair.”

“Why did you take it out of the bun?”

“To be honest with you, I usually don’t style it as grand as I did tonight. If you remember correctly, I was playing a role.”

His enigmatic eyes darkened. “Am I now looking at the real
Vivian Wentworth?”

“No. I’m usually not adorned in such a fancy gown. My tastes are toward
a more plain and modest attire.”

“Then change.” His gaze
slowly moved over her. “I want to see the real you.”

Her breathing quickened. The idea tempted her
, but she couldn’t do it. “No, Anton. You must leave.”

“I cannot.” His face hardened as he glanced toward the window. “My pursuer is outside watching the house.”

“Why is he here?” she repeated her earlier question.

“I know not, unless he is as infatuated with you as I.” He winked.

Her heart skipped a beat. “You must be jesting, Anton.” She walked past him and into the kitchen. “Would you like some tea?”

“Do you have coffee?”

“Yes.”

At the stove, she prepared the drinks in the
dark—only the moon shining through the curtains gave her light. Footsteps from the darkly passionate man’s boots in her house clicked on the wooden floor, but she refused to turn. When the soft noise ceased, his masculine scent settled around her. Heated chills trickled over her skin, making her heart accelerate to twice its normal speed.

Hot breath fanned the side of her neck, and she closed her eyes to fight for control, but her soul weakened. He had a strange power over her. She was sorely tempted to stop fighting and
relax against his rugged frame.

His hands touched her hips then slid around her waist, pulling her against hi
m. Anton’s face dropped to her neck, and she allowed his lips to brush against her flesh where he blessed the area with feathery kisses. Goosebumps trickled over her, and she gritted her teeth to keep from sighing aloud.

“I know not what you have done to me,
Vivian, but I cannot keep myself away from you, despite my promise.” He kissed the gentle curve of her neck. “I have tried not to touch you, but you are irresistible.”

She placed her h
ands over his to peel them away, but once she covered them, she found herself holding on to him instead. There was no way she could let him go now. “You must be intoxicated, Anton. I haven’t done anything.”

“Yes, I am certainly intoxicated. What other explanation could there be? You have drugged me senseless, and I am in your power.” He buried his face deeper in her neck and took another breath. “You smell heavenly. I can imagine walking on clouds with you.”

“Anton,” she sighed his name when no other words came to mind.

“I want you,
Vivian.
Díos
help me, but I want you desperately.”

He kissed her neck again, and she relaxed against him, resting her head on his shoulder, allowing him to partake of her skin. His
lips touched the place between her ear and shoulder as her chills multiplied.

Moving to her ear, his mouth whispered kisses until he suckled gently on the lobe, causing more havoc to her system. She turned her head and met his
seeking mouth.

Although their position felt awkward, she wouldn’t have moved out of his arms for anything. The way he
held and kissed her made her body want to remain there forever.

Just as her mind resolved to allow him to seduce her,
someone banged at the door. The sound startled her back to reality. Panicked, she jumped and turned in his arms, clutching his shirt.

“Anton? Who could that be?” she whispered.

“
Dios Mio!
It is the devil himself!”

Vivian
’s heartbeat took on a different rhythm as panic filled her. They were going to die.

A tomblike silence hung thick in the air. Anton dared not to even breathe, yet his chest still heaved from the passionate kiss. He’d forgotten about the rider who’d followed. Could it be one of Juanito’s men? Who else would venture into the late evening hour? 

“That could only be one person,” he whispered.

“He wouldn’t come to the door.” She glanced up and met his stare. “Would he?”

“
Sí.
If he is sent by my uncle, he will not rest until he has finished the assignment.” Her body shivered against him. Poor woman was frightened out of her wits.

All because of him.

The person on the door pounded again. Vivian gasped and clutched his hands.

“What sh
ould we do?”

“You must see who is here.” Keeping her hands in his, he walked toward the door.

“Anton, don’t leave me.”

“Do not worry. I will not
allow him to harm you.”

Before seeing to her visitor,
Vivian lit the lamp in the hallway, smoothed her trembling hands down her dress, and walked to the door. She reached for the door handle, but before she grasped the brass knob, the rude intruder knocked again, making her jump higher than before.

Her hand flew up to her throat. “Who...is it?”

“I am looking for
Señorita
Wentworth.”

The stranger’s Spanish accent was strong, and Anton silently cursed. She swung her head toward him, pleading with wide eyes.

He nodded. “I am here. Do not worry,” he whispered. Strength appeared in her eyes and gave him hope that she could handle the situation.

“I’m Miss
Wentworth,” she called back, her voice much stronger now.

“May I speak with you?”

“Who are you?”

“I am a friend of
Señor
Pinkerton.”

“Then you’ll forgive me if I don’t let you in. It’s too late, and I’m not properly chaperoned.”

“Where is your companion? I saw her come home with you.”

She
glanced Anton’s way again. His breath caught in his throat. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

Vivian
pulled her shoulders back straighter and lifted her chin. “She has taken to her room with a headache and is asleep, so please return tomorrow and we’ll speak in the light of day.”

Anton grinned. He had to give her credit. She thought quicker than he.

Hostile stillness lasted for only a few minutes. “Please,
Señorita
Wentworth,” the voice started again, a plea in the tone. “I have come a long way to talk to you. It is most important. At least open the door so I may speak with you face to face. I need not enter.”

She glanced at Anton again. He released a soft growl as he
massaged his temple. He didn’t want her to allow the man inside. Yet, Anton didn’t want the stranger to become suspicious, either. There was no other way. Vivian must open the door.

He nodded. “Do as he wishes. I will go around front,” Anton whispered, “and grab him from behind.”

She shook her head, but he ignored her protest. He couldn’t stand to see her wide eyes begging in that manner. His twisting heart couldn’t take it. After giving her a wink, he turned and hurried toward the back door.

“I can only speak to you for a moment,” she called out as she slowly unlocked the door.

Quietly, Anton opened the back door and crept outside. The moon hung high in the sky, lighting his way around the house perfectly. Shadows danced everywhere as the wind rustled through the trees.

Swift and sure, he took cautious steps, trying his best not to make any noises. Voices had disappeared, and he hoped
Vivian could handle the stranger without problems. If that man laid one finger on her, Anton would be tempted to snap the man’s neck with his bare hands.

Once he turned the corner of the house, the Spaniard’s voice rang through the night air. Anton stopped and flattened himself against the wall. The small, pudgy stranger doffed his hat, and his baldhead shined in the moonlight.
Within a few hours, the sun would peek over the horizon and turn the man’s head a pinkish color.

“I am sorry to upset you
, Señorita
, but it was most important I see you now.”

“You still have not told me your name.”

“My deepest apologies. My name is
Señor
Eduardo Gomez. I work for
Señor
Ballí.”

She nodded. “He hired Mr. Pinkerton to find Antonio
Romero.”

“
Sí
.”

“What is of such great importance that you must disturb a lady
at this late hour?”

Anton’s heart lightened.
Vivian held her own with the stranger. He knew firsthand how stubborn she could be even through her fear.

“
Señor
Ballí informed me that Mr. Pinkerton sent you to locate Antonio Romero. Is this so?”

She cocked her brow. “It seems you have the answer,
Señor
Gomez, or what else would explain your visit here? Please, get to the point of the matter.”

He nodded.
“As you wish. I understand you may have found the man impersonating
Señor
Ballí’s nephew.”

“No. Suffice to say, my search led me to the wrong man.”

“So, the opera singer is not Antonio Romero?”

“Unfortunately, no.
Although the two men are similar in appearance, the opera singer’s life is far different from Antonio Romero’s.”

“Are you certain the performer is not lying? Perhaps we should let
Señor
Ballí know so he can look at him.”

“If you think it’s necessary, but during my visit with the performer tonight, I found no reason to suspect him of being Antonio
Romero. I would hate to waste
Señor
Juanito Romero Ballí’s time.”

In a flash, the bulky Spaniard scowled. His body stiffened. “How did you know my employer’s full name? I did not tell you.”

Panic flowed through Anton, but he kept still and waited. If that man touched her even once…

“No, you did not tell me, but Mr. Pinkerton did.”

“That cannot be.
Señor
Ballí does not ever give out his full name.”

“Then how would I know it?” she questioned.

He lunged forward and grabbed her arm. “Because I think you have been talking to his nephew, Antonio.”

The moment she cried out, Anton sprang into action. He tripped over a bush, but righted himself before lunging toward the man standing on the porch.

“Please, sir,” she begged, “you’re hurting me.”

“Tell me where I can find Antonio,” he demanded.

“I don’t know.”

He raised his arm as though to hit her, and she flinched. Anton grabbed the man by the shoulders and whipped him around. When the Spaniard’s gaze met Anton’s, he didn’t give him much time to recover from surprise before
Anton plowed his fist into the stranger’s face, hitting his nose dead center. A sickening crunch echoed through the night before blood poured from the wounded man’s nose, causing him to crumple to the ground in a motionless heap.

“Is…he dead?” she questioned with a quiver in her voice.

Anton knelt beside the man and touched the side of his neck to feel for a pulse. A slight beat pounded against Anton’s finger.

“He’s alive.”

She sobbed and quickly covered her mouth. Anton stepped toward her and took her shaky hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Are you all right?”

“I am now,” she answered breathlessly.

She stepped closer, and he moved his arms around her waist, holding her loosely. His shoulder braced her head as she took deep breaths.

“What are we going to do if he awakens?” she asked.

“We will contact the sheriff before then. You can say he tried to break into your house and attack you. It is not far from the truth.”

“The sheriff is not going to believe I overpowered a large man and slugged him in the face. And if we mention your name, they’re going to investigate why you were in the house with me.”

Her body quaked, and he stroked his hands over her back and arms. Several silent minutes later, she relaxed and lifted her head to look at him.

“I know what we can do. We’ll put this man in my wagon, and you can drive him to an empty field...or maybe lay him by a busy road and then someone will spot him.”

Anton arched a brow. “I suppose that is the best option right now. Not to worry, my sweet Vivian. I will take care of him, and then I will leave you alone.”

After he said the words, pain tightened his chest. Although he really didn’t want to leave, staying with her was not safe, either. The longer he remained by her side, the more danger he put her in.

She narrowed her gaze. “What do you mean you’ll leave me alone?”

“I have dragged you into my problems, and it is not right. You do not need to be on the run as I am.”

“But Anton, I’m the one who came looking for you.”

He smiled and caressed her cheek. “
Sí,
but this case is more dangerous than you have realized, and I am not going to imperil you any longer.” He kissed her forehead and reluctantly stepped away. “Go into the house and ready yourself for bed. I will find some place to leave him.”

She glanced into the house, then back at him as if undecided. Her forehead creased as she nibbled on her bottom lip. “Will you return and…say goodbye?”

He nodded. “I promise. Now go.”

When she stepped into the house and shut the door, the ache in his chest grew. He’d walk out of her life soon. Really, he didn’t know her that well, but the few hours they’ve spent together had been most entertaining. Would he ever see her again? Perhaps if his uncle weren’t trying to kill him
, Anton and Vivian could get to know each other more intimately. That woman had so much passion, and it was hard to walk away.

Unfortunately, that’s what he must do.

He heaved a sigh and leaned his head against the door. Too many things to think about, but he’d made the correct decision, no matter how much his heart argued.

Anton had killed many men in his life, but only for his country and in the midst of battle.
Never in cold blood. Yet, he would have killed tonight just to protect Vivian. If the Spaniard had been more forceful with her, Anton would have strangled him without any qualms.

After wrapping the unconscious man in one of
Vivian’s horse blankets, Anton lifted him into a wagon and drove to the next town. He carefully laid the man in the tall weeds beside the road. Thankfully, guilt didn’t nag on Anton’s conscience until he thought about Vivian.

He shouldn’t have told her the truth about his uncle and the island. Leading her to believe he was someone else would have been the wisest choice. Because of his excellent acting skills, he could have convinced her, so why had he confessed? Did she mean that much to him?
Or was it that he had high hopes she might be the woman who would finally get to know the real Antonio?

As he drove the wagon back to
Vivian’s house, he cursed fate. This evening had been utter chaos since he’d met the very beautiful and enchanting woman, yet his life had never been more exciting and challenging. But, he’d put her in harm’s way, and for that, he’d never forgive himself if something happened to her.

Somewhere out there, his uncle still searched for him, and if
Juanito discovered what Vivian knew and where she lived—and Anton was certain this would happen—Juanito wouldn’t be as patient as his henchman. Anton could not allow his uncle or his men to harm her.

Growling in frustration, he stretched the kinks out of his neck and rolled his shoulders trying to alleviate the tenseness. Although he didn’t want
Vivian hurt, leaving her alone to deal with his uncle was out of the question. Vivian could not have a life on the run as he did, but she must if he had to protect her. 

He must bring her with him.

The proof of Anton’s identity would cease the lies his uncle spread, but Anton would have to return to Spain to his island to obtain this verification. There was one article he knew his uncle hadn’t tampered with. Unless, of course, his uncle had the orchard dug up completely and found Anton’s hiding spot.

With the decision firmly rooted in his mind, he lodged the wagon in
Vivian’s barn and stalled the horses. She might not agree with his plans, but he’d force her—if necessary—for her own good. His heart skipped with anticipation. He wouldn’t be saying good-bye to her after all.

He must convince
her this was the only way. For both of them.

Not only would he be protecting her, but once the true story about his identity came out, her employer might give her a promotion. Anton chuckled to himself. He didn’t think she would see things that
way, and he almost looked forward to their confrontation.