Texas conquest, p.14
Texas Conquest, page 14
“Because I don’t trust you.”
“You don’t—you don’t—Me?” He started forward again, but this time she dug in her heels. He looked over his shoulder at her, hoping she could tell he was not willing to play anymore of her foolish games. “There is no reason for you not to trust me. Whatever your game, it is ridiculous.”
“But it is my reason.” God, it was so good to see her.
He hated admitting it to himself. But to see her with the bright color in her cheeks, her eyes snapping with anger, was something he had longed to see, even though he shouldn’t.
“Tell me one thing that I’ve done to cause you not to trust me.”
He looked her up and down slowly, causing her face to color. He leaned towards her until his nose nearly touched hers, his eyes boring into her. “You’re a woman.”
Angie stepped backwards, stunned. “What kind of reason is that?”
“My reason. Now stop stalling. I’m going to deposit you in your sister’s hands before you cause any more trouble.”
“I don’t think she’ll take us working together very well.”
Lorenzo raked a hand through his hair. “I’m not working with you. Not now, not ever.”
Angie pursed her lips at him then nodded. She didn’t fight to get away from him anymore; instead, she looked as though she were out for a stroll. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”
Lorenzo watched her closely his body tense. “Why?” he demanded.
“Well, of course it allows Olivia and me to continue our visits to Tom. After all, if you are uncooperative, he can hardly accuse us of not following orders.”
“Go ahead and try.”
“Who’s going to stop us?”
“Tom will turn you away. He won’t tolerate it.”
“Same as he will not tolerate you disobeying him.”
Lorenzo stopped, forcing her to stop as well. “I won’t work with you.”
She bared her teeth in the semblance of a smile. “I know. I don’t care.”
He rolled his shoulders, stretching the stiff muscles in his neck. “Why don’t you just go back to your cocina and practice making your empanadas?”
Her artificial, obviously insincere smile stayed in place. “I will as soon as you let go of me.”
“And you’ll stay there?”
“What I do is none of your concern. You don’t wish to work with me; our need for speaking to each other is no longer there.”
His lips grew thin, as he looked at the people walking along the road, stopping into shops, emerging with purchases, and gossiping at the corners. Very few soldiers passed down the road, most were further up near the Alamo. “Did you know a woman was killed just the other day?” His tone was low and soft, very different from the agitated growl from earlier.
Angie sighed heavily, shifting her basket. “What are you talking about?”
“She was trying to deliver food to the Texians. Trying to help them. She was shot in the back by a Mexican soldier before she could reach the Texians.”
Angie’s face drained of color, but she lifted her chin. “What does that have to do with me?”
“That could have been you. Or Olivia. Or Serena.”
“You shouldn’t care. That’s our problem to deal with.”
He shook his head in disbelief. He wanted her safe, protected. And with her running wild on her own, she would be neither. “I just don’t understand you.”
She shrugged. “I need to go. People are starting to look.”
Lorenzo slowly released her arm. “I’m going to speak with Tom tonight,” he said slowly, his face tight. “I’ll tell him you want to help some more. That you want to be included. I think you know what he’ll say to that.”
“We could avoid that if you just work with me.”
“No.”
“Then I can just go speak to Tom myself.”
“I’ll come visit you tomorrow and let you know what he says.”
She gave him an amused smile. “Are you going to tell him you don’t want to work with me?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Her smile grew cold as she dug in her basket and handed him an empanada. “Adios, senor.”
Chapter Fourteen
She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so cold. Her toes had gone numb a long time ago, and her fingers were bright red. She leaned against the tree behind her, huddling deep into her father’s giant jacket. He should have passed by already. He was taking too long.
As soon as she had walked away from Lorenzo that morning her mind had been racing. She barely knew anything about him, and yet Tom wanted her to rely entirely on him with their rebel efforts. She wanted to believe Lorenzo would be honest with her. But his reluctance to even spend time with her made her think otherwise.
On top of that, he didn’t show any of the tenderness she remembered from the other night. Had she imagined it all? It had been far too real for it to have been imaginary. But from the way he acted, there was no sign whatsoever that he felt anything other than anger and distrust towards her.
By the time the sun had faded in the sky, she had decided on a course of action that would anger many people. But she couldn’t sit at home wondering what tales Lorenzo could be spouting to Tom to make sure she was no longer part of the rebellion. So she shivered within her father’s jacket, hiding just inside the tree line, waiting to follow him out to the camp.
The moon was high, nearly directly overhead. He should have passed by already. What if he took a different route this time? It would make sense; it would be the logical thing to do. She chewed on her lower lip. Or maybe he had already gone to the camp and she had missed him. Or maybe he had lied to her and wasn’t going out to see Tom after all. But why would he lie to her?
She had to keep waiting; she couldn’t risk missing him. She slid down the tree until she was sitting on the leaf-covered ground, pulling the collar of the jacket high over her ears. It was going to be a long night.
She would have missed him if it hadn’t been for the glint of moonlight off one of his buttons. Her eyes had begun to get heavy, and she was nodding off when the faint glimmer drew her attention. In the pale light, she saw a dark shadow moving and had no doubt it was Lorenzo. She knew no other man who walked so confidentially... as though nothing could strike him down.
She pushed her back into the tree, trying to make herself invisible. He walked into the trees, moving slowly and cautiously, pausing every minute or so to listen and watch for movement around him.
She held her breath, her eyes fixated on him. The strength and grace in his every movement made it impossible for her to look away. He passed her only a short distance from her, and she saw his face, intense and determined, focused on what was ahead. His feet barely made a sound, hushed by the leaves and his own stealth movements.
She waited for the count of fifty after he passed her before slowly standing, her knees aching from sitting for so long. She peered around the tree, her eyes searching the shadows. For a moment her heart stilled, thinking she had lost him. But a movement caught her eye and she saw him, standing not far from her.
He was bending, reaching beside the trunk of a large tree and she watched him, curiosity piqued. A wrapped bundle of clothes appeared in his hand. Breathlessly, she couldn’t tear her eyes away as she saw him pull off his jacket and begin to unfasten the buttons on his shirt.
Her fingernails dug into the tree as he shrugged out of the shirt, his bronze shoulders rippling in the pale light. He turned then and she saw his chest, covered with a light spattering of black hair. A memory flashed in her mind, a memory of his chest in the pale lamplight, the feel of his muscles beneath her palms. It couldn’t have been a dream. The memory was so vivid her fingers tingled.
His muscles were quivering, and she suddenly realized how cold he must be. She, on the other hand, felt incredibly warm. When he began with his pants, she squeezed her eyes shut, her face infused with heat. The palms of her hands began to sweat. Curiosity was beginning to gnaw at her and she tried to keep her eyes tightly closed. It was no use. Her eyes flew open, eagerly seeking the profile of the man who had been haunting her dreams.
The dark, still night was all she saw. Squinting she peered into the darkness, not believing he had vanished in the few seconds her eyes had been closed. Still she saw nothing. Gnawing on her lower lip she took a step away from the tree, heading cautiously in the direction she had last seen him.
Strong hands grabbed her upper arms and she sucked in a deep breath, a scream tickling the back of her throat.
“I wouldn’t do that,” a voice murmured, lips lightly touching her ear.
She swallowed her scream, nearly choking on it as a warm male body pressed along her back, the hands slowly loosening around her arms so she could turn around.
“Why are you here?” His voice was still hushed, his breath warm against her neck, and she couldn’t suppress the shiver that slid through her.
“Lorenzo, I didn’t...” She turned and her eyes met his and she forgot everything she had intended to say.
His eyes were dark and intense, watching her closely. His dark hair was windblown, a lock falling over his forehead. Her gaze traveled lower and his jaw was clenched tightly, his lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. She watched his pulse beating in his neck, the smooth strength of his shoulder, and she realized he was still without a shirt, his breeches halfway unfastened. Her mouth went dry.
She had the overwhelming desire to ask him to kiss her, to hold her the way she remembered, the way she dreamed. She wanted to feel his lips on the pulse in her neck, his fingertips brushing her collarbone. Her heart was racing and she couldn’t draw a deep breath, her eyes moving slowly back up to his face.
Lorenzo didn’t trust himself to speak. He had been engrossed in his thoughts as he had left town, and those thoughts revolved around Angie. She was trouble, in more ways than one, but he couldn’t deny how pleased he had been to see her that morning, even though she had placed herself in danger once again.
When he had seen the soldiers crowding around her, touching her, feeling the soft flesh that had haunted his dreams every night, fury had surged through him. He had wanted to kill every man that had touched her. But that could cost his life as well as hers.
As soon as he had gotten her away from the soldiers, he had wanted to crush her to him, to give thanks that she was safe and he held her once again. Instead he had released his anger on her, hoping she would get as far away as possible, removing the temptation that she was.
And then—then he had seen her curious eyes peering through the night, watching him as he had been about to strip out of his pants, and desire had gripped him so hard he had nearly doubled over. It still gripped him as he stood so close to her he could smell her lavender soap, could see the flush that was spreading over her face, could feel her chest rising against him with each breath.
“Why are you here?” he whispered, his hands sliding down her arms, slowly, reluctantly releasing her. But he couldn’t step away. Not yet.
“I-I...” She licked her lips. “I was worried about what you would tell Tom. And whether you would truthfully tell me what he said to you.”
“In other words, you didn’t trust me.”
“No.” Her answer was in the same hushed tones as his, though there was the faintest sign of remorse in her eyes. Her answer even seemed hesitant. Did she really not trust him? Or was it an excuse she was using?
His eyes bored into hers, and he should be angry. He should yell at her and send her home. But he wanted nothing more than to taste her pale, pink lips, to give in to the temptation gnawing at him. Her full bottom lip had teased his memory since the other night when he had come so close to getting a taste.
Her gaze dropped away from his face to his chest and her brow furrowed. “Where is your shirt? You’re freezing.” Her hands flew to his upper arms and she began rubbing vigorously, her hands moving to his chest and rubbing there as well.
When his hands wrapped around her waist, her eyes shot to his face. He knew his eyes were dark, his face tense as he tried to contain the desire raging within him. Her hands stilled on his chest, her fingers buried in the crisp, black hair.
“Do you realize what you’re doing?” his voice was hoarse.
“I’m trying—Well, what I mean is—I thought I could help warm you.”
His fingers tightened on her waist. “You are doing far too good of a job.” He leaned into her and her eyes widened as his arousal pressed into her hip. Her eyes widened and he closed his eyes, praying for the willpower not to go any further. But Angie must not have understood exactly what she was doing to his mind and body.
She slowly slid her hands lower, then hesitated, feeling something rough under her palm. Her eyes followed the path of her fingers and she drew a deep breath as she saw the wicked scar just under his breastbone. Her fingers traced it lightly when Lorenzo grabbed her wrists, gently pushing her away from him.
“Lorenzo, I didn’t—I mean, I wasn’t trying...”
He let his breath out slowly, squeezing his eyes shut. “I know, chula. I know.” He pushed away from her while he still could and grabbed his worn uniform jacket off the ground. He kept his back to her as he fastened it, trying to calm down. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so close to losing control.
“You need to go home,” he said thickly, speaking over his shoulder. His words were spoken with finality. He wasn’t willing to argue with her about the subject any further.
Angie was trying to recover her composure as well. Every time he called her chula, or pretty girl, it made her lose her concentration. Realizing he was affected by her had taken her breath away and had made her long for things she couldn’t identify. She wanted to get closer to him; she wanted to touch him, to hold him. And his scar was a new piece to the maddening puzzle he was turning into.
She tightened her jacket about her, self-consciously smoothing her hair back. “I won’t go back. Not yet. I want to go with you.”
Lorenzo turned slowly, schooling his face into a blank expression before facing her. “No. I forbid it.”
Angie squared her shoulders. “Then go and I’ll follow you later. I’m going to meet with Tom whether you like it or not.”
Lorenzo was silent for several moments, his expression hidden by the shadows as clouds passed over the moon. Finally, he stepped forward and caught her arm. “Fine. Let’s go.”
She stared up at him in surprise then concentrated on not tripping over the uneven terrain. She hadn’t expected him to agree. She was fully prepared to go on her own at another time if so needed. But he was taking her, though he didn’t seem too thrilled about it.
He held her close to him, his grip on her arm strong, but not hard. She couldn’t see his face clearly, but he didn’t look happy from the few glimpses she could get. She remained silent, hoping to avoid a confrontation that would make him change his mind. Yes, they had quarreled some. But it was nothing like it had been in the past. And, she was almost reminded of when he had first taken her walking through the streets of San Antonio.
“Are you gloating?”
Angie looked up at him, surprised to see him watching her closely. “No. Why?”
“You were smiling. Considering you just got your way—again—I assumed you were gloating.”
“Oh.” Angie was a bit distracted. They were approaching the river, and the recent rains had caused it to swell. Her palms began to sweat.
“So what were you smiling about?”
“What? Oh, nothing. Just a memory.”
“Must have been pleasant.” Lorenzo’s voice was dry, becoming irritated with her evasive answers.
She looked up at him again and the corners of her mouth twitched. “Yes. Unfortunately, it was about you.”
His eyebrows shot up. “A pleasant memory about me? Ah, yes, when you slashed me with a knife.”
She couldn’t see the pathway anymore; the water was up over the rocks. Had he not been holding her arm she would have turned around and headed back for the trees.
She wouldn’t let him know how scared she was. “Yes, yes, that was a pleasant memory, but it wasn’t the one I was thinking about.”
Lorenzo frowned down at her, but her attention wasn’t on him.
“I don’t see the path,” she said slowly. “How will we cross?”
“The water is barely over the rocks. Our feet will get wet, but we’ll be fine.”
Angie’s heart was thudding loudly in her ears and she was having a difficult time swallowing. “Well, I’ll let you go first then since you can see the path.”
“Are you going to tell me what this pleasant memory is or leave me guessing?”
She looked at him, finally tearing her eyes off the river. “I think I like the thought of you guessing.”
He shook his head at her and released her arm, heading towards the water covered path. He didn’t hesitate before stepping out into the water and onto the hidden rocks, his stride confident of the path that should be there.
Angie stood on the bank, staring into the inky water with a sense of dread. It was shallow, and she wouldn’t drown if she did fall in. And the water was icy cold and it could quickly fill her mouth and nose; quickly replace the air in her lungs, quickly smother away her screams for help, quickly pull her into the inky darkness and never let go.
“Don’t tell me you’re turning back now.”
Angie jumped, her heart leaping into her throat, her body tingling from a rush of adrenaline. Lorenzo paused, halfway across the river, and from her peripheral vision saw that he watched her hesitantly place a foot in the water, fishing for solid rock.
“Of course I’m not turning back.” She laughed nervously. “I, unlike you, believe in being cautious.” The water swirled around her foot and she wondered madly how she had ever made it across the path before.
Her lips pursed together with determination. Her other foot found a rock and she let out a small sigh. First steps completed. Only a hundred more to go and at the pace she was setting, it would be daylight before she crossed.
