Page 34 of Sweet Savage Love

34

S teve Morgan had merely changed clothes in Diego Sandoval’s room, with Diego’s connivance—concealing a new pair of revolvers under his serape. He had then strolled down the back staircase to join the gypsies, and mingling unobtrusively with them, he left the hacienda at the same time they did.

The interview with his grandfather had not gone very well, of course, but Steve had not expected that it would. He had informed his grandfather that he had married Ginny, quite legally, and in Don Francisco’s angry presence Steve seated himself at the writing desk and scribbled a short will which left everything he possessed to his wife.

“That should take care of it,” he said in a casual tone of voice which only served to infuriate Don Francisco further.

“You seem to forget our earlier conversation!” the old man shouted. “I told you then that you were going to settle down to your responsibilities. What kind of low-life mischief are you up to now?”

“If I don’t get away tonight, then you’ll probably see an end to all the problems I’ve brought you when they haul me in front of a firing squad,” Steve said calmly, looking his grandfather straight in the eye. In the same calm voice he went on to explain that he had in fact been mixed up with some revolutionary activities and there was a man here, unfortunately, who had recognized him as his alter ego. “Ginny knows, of course,” he added; moving Don Francisco to comment in a voice edged with acid that perhaps he should have married the poor girl to Renaldo instead—certainly she seemed to be getting something less than a bargain in his grandson.

The old man had shouted and blustered, causing Jaime Perez to wince several times when he felt that the command to shoot the Senor Esteban was imminent. It was the unexpected entrance of Diego Sandoval that had saved the situation. Above all, el patrón had a strong sense of family pride and honor—no matter how he might personally abuse and castigate a member of his family, he would not want to admit any kind of a rift to an outsider.

In a half-amused whisper Steve had informed his grandfather that in case of any emergency Diego would know where to get in touch with him—at least for the next day or two. He then flung an arm around his friend’s shoulder and they sauntered out of the room together.

When he left the Sandoval hacienda, sitting quite openly beside the flamboyantly beautiful Concepción, his features effectively hidden by the huge sombrero he wore, Steve began to feel at last the familiar quickening of blood in his veins. He reflected with some amusement that he was growing to like the elegant life less and less and becoming more of a ruffian at heart. The weight of the twin guns, sagging against his hips was familiar and welcome, and beside him, her shoulder brushing promisingly against his with every jolt of the small wagon, Concepción alternated between a string of vituperations and half-sighed demands to know how much time he’d spend with her this time.

When they had passed through the gates and were well beyond them, the wagons changed direction, no longer keeping to the well-worn roadway marked by many horses and carriages.

Concepción became silent and sultry, leaning against Steve, insisting that he take the reins. He put one arm around her and felt her hands all over him. They had known each other a long time, after all, and Concepción was not shy. But although his body provided, almost automatically, the response that the girl desired, Steve found his mind curiously and annoyingly distracted. What in hell was the matter with him? He was free again, as he had not felt himself to be for the past few months, having been obliged to cart Ginny around with him all over the country, and cope with her changing moods, her unexpected moments of sharp rebellion as well. She had even stirred his conscience, of all things, in addition to annoying him almost intolerably. Well, he’d made amends, hadn’t he? In the darkness, his mouth curled sardonically. Honorable amends, to quote his grandfather. He had given her the respectability of his name, made his will in her favor, and left her free to do as she pleased. She ought to be relieved. He remembered her threat about taking lovers of her own choosing, and wondered why it didn’t amuse him any longer. Well, he’d married her and hadn’t touched her afterwards—there was no reason why either of them could not get an annulment later, if they wanted to, although he certainly did not plan on any more marriages! To be forced into it once was bad enough; God, but women became so boring when they started to cling and to beg for attention.

His own mind startled him with the sudden vehemence of the thought that sprang into it. Damned if I was ever bored by her. The little green-eyed hellcat—she always contrived to make me angry, somehow, and to forget all my self-control. And even when she wasn’t conscious of it, she was a seductress—teasing, tempting, and drawing back sullenly the next minute—fighting, screaming her hate and contempt, and then turning into a hungry tigress. A witch, leaving her brand on a man.

He thought about the night he had seen her disappear into the wagon with Carl Hoskins, reappearing quite a while later, looking shamelessly dishevelled. He had hated her then, and despised himself for not taking her sooner than he had, and with less careful tenderness. Even if she had been a virgin, she was one of those women who were born passionate—once a man had aroused such a one, she was unable to help herself or control her strong desires. And yet, he contradicted himself, I was never able to completely tame her. Just when I thought I’d succeeded she’d turn on me. What a vixen, I suppose I should really pity her next lover!

But even when the wagons had stopped for the night, in a protected barranca, and he lay with Concepción in his arms, both of them exhausted momentarily from their love making; Steve found himself thinking again, reluctantly, about Ginny. She should have expected his sudden departure, of course. She had even encouraged it, earlier. But had it been quite fair to abandon her so publicly, with the wedding announcements already sent out? There were a few vicious tongues who might enjoy making capital out of a secret marriage and his sudden disappearance. And since when had he had any qualms about what was fair and what wasn’t?

Incredible! The truth pierced him like a shaft and made him curse himself savagely. Fool! Since he still desired her he should have brought her with him. She was his, even if he decided to have nothing more to do with her once his desire was slaked; and he’d kill any man she decided to take on as a lover!

When he reached that point in his thoughts Steve discovered that he was scowling balefully into the darkness. This was ridiculous, of course, and from a practical angle it was just as well he had left her behind. She had become a habit, that was all! And of all the countless women he’d known and used and forgotten, she alone remained a challenge. Well—it was over. He had recognized the trap he was falling into, and would take care to avoid it. The thought that he, of all people should be lying awake at night mooning about a woman like a lovesick calf was really insufferable.

Steve sat up and Concepción stirred sleepily, trying to trap him in her arms again.

“ Querido —where are you going? I’m cold…”

“I’m just thirsty, for God’s sake! All that wine and tequila I was drinking last night, I guess.”

“Well, hurry up! I’m wide awake again. Isn’t that a pity? Are you going to give me something that will make me sleep?”

“You’re the greediest bitch I’ve known. Don’t you ever get enough?”

But he was grinning when he came back to her. Before he could lie down again Concepción came up on her knees with a lithe, pantherish movement of her body, her arms clasping him around the waist. Her long hair tickled his thighs and his reaction to her ministrations was inevitable.

“Hmm…” Concepción whispered after a while, a gurgle of teasing laughter underlying her whisper, “ que grande! Hombre, you are as greedy as I, sí? ”

He found his breath coming faster—as a lover, Concepción was like no other he had known. She was a woman who made no pretense at coyness. She’s the kind of woman I should stick to, Steve found himself thinking, in a way she’s like me—she knows what she wants and takes it.

After a while he twisted his fingers in her hair, pulling her head backward. In the faint, diffused light of the Mexican night he could see her eyes gleaming with a steely kind of sheen. She put her tongue out at him, and he began to laugh, pushing her backwards, feeling the immediate response of her wild, warm body. No complications here. She was as natural as an animal with its mate, and gradually, as their half-savage, half-playful lovemaking continued, Steve found his mind letting go as his body took over.

It was near dawn, and Steve felt as if he had only just fallen asleep, when he heard the pounding of hooves. He had rolled away from Concepción, for both of them had become overheated and were covered with sweat—he fell asleep lying facedown, knowing that Concepción was quite capable of waking up in a few minutes and wanting a repeat performance. Habit kept his ear against the ground, and he heard the horse, and knew that only one rider approached, so that he was dressed already when Jaime Perez, one of the best trackers in the province, rode down the barranca.

Steve listened to the man’s urgent, panted-out story almost incredulously. His first thought was that his grandfather was playing some kind of trick on him, determined to get him back in the fold by any means, fair or foul. Impossible! Even that wily, clever bastard Devereaux wouldn’t dare. But as Jaime continued to talk, Steve felt the beginnings of a cold, frustrated rage that almost blinded him. By God, it did make sense. Devereaux was cleverer after all, than any of them had given him credit for. His logic was really beautiful—and inescapable. Ginny would be released if he gave himself up. It became, in essence, a matter of honor—what else, in this crazy half-Spanish country? And if he didn’t, Colonel Raoul Devereaux would make sure that everyone soon learned that Esteban Alvarado was content to hide behind his wife’s skirts and let her suffer for his crimes. And in any case, could he really bear the thought of her locked up as a prisoner, at the mercy of men like Tom Beal? Devereaux chose to show a surface veneer of benevolence and sophisticated gallantry, but Steve had learned enough of the man’s methods since he’d been appointed military governor of Zacatecas province to know that he was completely unscrupulous.

He became aware that he had buckled on his gun belts while Jaime was talking—that the man was looking at him with a strange expression on his face. What did Jaime really think?

“ Senor —” there was a slight hesitation in Jaime’s voice, and his face suddenly contorted. “I did not want to bring you this message.” Again he hesitated and then his words came out in a sudden rush. “Do not go, Senor! They will not dare to harm the Senora —it is all a bluff! But if they take you…”

From somewhere behind Jaime, Concepción flung herself against him, arms clutching, and Steve could feel the trembling of her body, although her eyes were stormy as they glared into his.

“It will be the firing squad—that is what they do with those suspected of being revolutionaries! You fool! Idiota! Are you really so tired of life? You know this man is right—they will not dare harm a Senora, a lady. Are you so crazy about her then that you must rush to her at the risk of your own life? I won’t let you go.” She looked around frantically at the silent men who now ringed them. “Well? You’re his friends, no? Won’t you stop him?”

“Concepción!” To silence her raging, Steve kissed her half-open mouth and was surprised to taste the saltiness of the tears that trickled down her face. “Behave yourself,” he said after a moment, deliberately hardening his voice.

“I won’t! Damn you! If none of these—” her scornful glance swept the silent faces around them “—will do anything to stop you then I will!”

“Stop having hysterics, you know it doesn’t work with me.” Steve pulled her arms from around his neck and stepped back cautiously. She looked so furious, and at the same time so desolate that he smiled at her tenderly.

“ Querida, they haven’t executed me yet. I’ll see you again.”

“Let him go!” Sanchez’s voice roared out roughly. He grabbed his daughter’s arm and held her firmly in spite of her struggles.

“Stop him, stop him!” she screamed.

Steve was already saddling his horse, and even Jaime had fallen silent now, although the grief in his normally impassive face was plain to see.

“And how would you stop him, stupid nina? ” Sanchez said with heavy sarcasm. “Would you shoot him yourself before the French soldados do so, eh?” He continued roughly, “It’s a matter of honor, muchacho. You wouldn’t understand.”

Steve heard Concepción’s screaming invective in his ears long after he had ridden out of the barranca.

“Honor, shit! I spit on his honor! He goes for her, that green-eyed woman who is more of a bitch and a whore than I am! sí. I know it, I felt it from the first time I saw her! You fool, you fool, she isn’t worth it, you’ll find out, just wait and see.”

He got back on the road again, that beaten-down ribbon of dirt that masqueraded as a highway to Zacatecas. From there it continued south-east to Salinas and San Luis Potosí, which was where he had been heading when he started out. The sudden thought struck him that he probably wouldn’t get any place beyond Zacatecas, after all, and a slightly bitter smile twisted his mouth for an instant. Well— c’est la guerre. And a firing squad was better than hanging at that.

Steve gave the horse its head, letting it take him at its own pace. Why not enjoy the ride while he could?

“He goes for her, that green-eyed woman.” Ginny—Ginny—she had become an obsession with him, why not admit it? Ginny in all her moods, like the ocean he might never see again—worse than a tropical storm sometimes, and at others as calm, as deep and dreamy, as unfathomable as the ocean at its best. My God, he thought suddenly, I was in danger of falling in love with the woman, and I didn’t even know it. What a trap!

Steve Morgan, who had always prided himself on his cold detachment from emotional entanglements now found, as he galloped towards Zacatecas, that the prospect of seeing Ginny again was almost worth facing a firing squad for. If they were going to execute him in any case, they would probably allow him a few minutes alone with her. He could take her in his arms and taste the wonderful texture of her lips again, and feel her small, perfectly shaped breasts pressing against his chest. He’d tell her—yes, what did it matter now? Before they killed him, he’d tell her he loved her.