Nan Ryan (29 page)

“Oh, yes, yes,” the princess said, embarrassed that she had, for a second, forgotten that she was to respond when addressed as
Señorita
Eva. “I certainly will—” Virgil cleared his throat loudly, “that is we … we really must be leaving tomorrow.”

“Ah, that is too bad,” said Don Amondo. “In that case, you must make
Capitán
Black bring you back to Tierra del Encanto again real soon when you stay longer. Now, come, we go inside.”

The huge hacienda was smothered in purple bougainvillea and pink running roses. In the arcaded central courtyard a fountain splashed and someone was strumming a guitar.

A capable staff kept Tierra del Encanto running smoothly, inside and out.

Outside, a platoon of talented gardeners endlessly planted and pruned and trimmed, making the vast grounds surrounding the hacienda a haven. An inviting, shady oasis set squarely between the hot, flat desert and the cool, towering mountains.

Inside, a squadron of polite, cheerful servants kept the many-roomed mansion spotless. Not so much as a single grain of sand or the hint of a cobweb could be found inside the eighteen-inch thick walls. Fresh flowers, changed daily, graced each of the thirty rooms, their pleasing scent mingling with the clean smell of lemon oil that kept the dark woodwork and heavy furniture gleaming.

A skilled chef, lured from a favorite Barcelona restaurant years ago, and a half-dozen kitchen helpers prepared exotic meals in large quantities. And, at least one cook was on call twenty-four hours of the day in case the don or doña or any one of the eight Rivas children happened to have a sudden yen for a hot spicy
chile relleno
or a light, fluffy
sopapilla.

They all, the gardeners, the servants, the cooks, did their various chores so unobtrusively, they were rarely seen. Never in the way.

In the wide entrance hall of the hacienda, Don Amondo said, extending his right hand, “Come, we will go into the
sala
and—”

Virgil quickly shook his head.

He refused to step foot into that spacious room with its enormous stone fireplace filled with elegant, overstuffed sofas and comfortable chairs and heavy carved tables and valuable art and an ornate piano shipped from Spain.

“As you can see, we’re a little dirty.”

“Oh, forgive me,” said the mannerly Mexican. “I forget myself I am so happy to see you.” He looked at the princess. “You would enjoy a nice bath, no?”

“I would enjoy a nice bath, yes,” said the princess, already anticipating the luxury.

“
Sí, sí,
” said the don, and snapped his short brown fingers. A fresh-faced servant appeared almost immediately. To her he said, “Consuela, will you please direct the
Señorita
to one of the guest rooms and draw a bath for her.” He turned back to the princess. “I have daughters of all sizes,
Señorita
Eva. I am confident something can be found for you to wear.”

“You’re very kind,” said the princess.

The don smiled and said, “It is only half past five. You have two and a half hours to rest before dinner at eight.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Without so much as a glance at Virgil, the princess turned away and followed Consuela up the center staircase.

On the wide upstairs landing, Consuela turned toward the southern wing, and led the princess down the cool, dim corridor. At the next to the last door, the servant stopped and opened it.

The princess stepped inside the well-appointed room and sighed with pleasure. Tall floor-to-ceiling windows, opening onto an outside landing, looked down on the flower-filled courtyard. The continuous splash of the courtyard’s fountain would, she felt sure, lull her quickly to sleep that night.

She turned and gazed at the big, baroque bed. The beautifully carved dark wood headboard soared to a height of three or four feet. At the bed’s foot, heavy carved posts rose above her head. A counterpane of shimmering yellow silk was topped with a half-dozen huge feather pillows encased in yellow-and-white silk cases.

The princess, studying the bed, sighed happily. Tonight she would sleep as peacefully as a newborn babe. Alone. She would lock the door against the dark man with whom she had behaved so disgracefully.

The princess already felt better.

Having Virgil Black out of her sight for two and a half hours was exactly what she most needed. In his intimidating presence she couldn’t seem to think straight. And, if there was ever a time in her life she needed to see things clearly, it was now.

“
Señorita
?” Consuela broke into her reverie. “Your bath is ready.”

“Thank you, Consuela.” The princess was already kicking off her slippers and unbuttoning her dirty blue shirt.

The servant said, “While you enjoy your tub, I will lay out several gowns from which you may choose.”

Eager to get into that soothing hot water, the princess nodded and hurried eagerly into the bathroom. As large as most bedrooms, the room was embellished in white-and-yellow Mexican tiles. Yellow roses in white porcelain vases sweetened the air. A skylight located directly over the huge white tub brought the outside inside. Bright sunlight, slanted now as the afternoon grew late, streamed down to brightly illuminate half the long tub, leaving the other half in shadow.

Rich yellow carpet covered the floor, and dozens of fluffy white towels were neatly folded and stacked on tall shelves. A freestanding mirror graced one corner of the large bathroom, and the princess learned that once she had stripped and was in the steamy tub, she could see herself in the strategically placed mirror.

She hesitated before climbing into the tub.

It was the first mirror she had seen since her ordeal began. Curious, she turned directly toward the mirror and studied her naked reflection. She hardly recognized herself. Her hair, which had always been her pride and joy, was so dirty and tangled she wasn’t sure she could ever get it clean. And even if she did, she had no earthly idea how to dress her own hair.

Twisting a ginger strand around her finger, she slowly lowered her gaze, and it seemed as if she were seeing her body for the first time. She had paid very little attention to her undraped form in the past. She had kept herself slender, but that was only so she would look utterly stunning in the beautiful gowns she favored.

It certainly was not so she would look good naked. That had never made much difference, since no one ever saw her naked save her lady-in-waiting. Not even her late husband, the duke, had seen her totally naked.

Staring at herself now, the princess was interested in her body as she had never been before. She studied the shape and fullness of her breasts, noted that the rosy crests were large and soft and satiny. Her gaze drifted lower to the small waist that every gown she owned accentuated. Smiling, she moved on to the flat stomach and pale thighs. She put her knees and ankles together and was pleased to see that her long, slender legs were near perfectly shaped.

She pivoted, looked over her shoulder, and examined the long, slender back, the rounded cheeks of her bottom. She turned back to face the mirror, intrigued.

As the naked princess carefully studied herself, she felt heat rise to her cheeks. She realized, with a quick stab of fear through her bare breasts, that Virgil Black was responsible for her newfound interest in her unclothed body. She was looking at herself appraisingly, trying to see herself through his eyes, wondering if he had found her pretty when they were naked together. If he walked in the room and saw her now, would he think she was beautiful?

The princess abruptly shook her head to clear it and stepped into the steaming tub. Easing down into the soapy depths, she vowed that as she scrubbed the physical evidence of him from her body, she would wash him of her thoughts as well.

She had, she told herself, been a royal fool. But it wasn’t entirely her fault. After all, a dark, dangerous-looking man had kidnapped her against her will, scared her half to death. He was responsible. She had read enough about people in similar situations to know that it was quite common for a captive to become dependent on, even trusting of, her captor. That’s what had happened to her. She had let her defenses down, and being alone with him in the wilds for so long she had … they had …

That was behind her. It would be easy to resist him now that they were back in civilization. Already she was beginning to think of him as he actually was: uncaring, unprincipled, heartless. Besides, he was unkempt, dirty, and bearded. Such a man would never have attracted her under different circumstances.

The princess spent those precious hours away from Virgil calmly forgiving herself. Then, quietly lecturing herself, reminding herself of the pressing duties that awaited her. Of the loyal subjects that depended on her. Soon she would be back home at Hartz-Coburg. Safe and comfortable in the cliffside castle where she had been born.

The misfortune that had befallen her here in America would be put forever behind her. She would forget it ever happened.

When eight o’clock came and it was time for her to go down to dinner, the princess was ready for any challenge.

In a perfectly fitting, low-cut gown of delicate white lace over a sky-blue organza underskirt, she felt like her old self again. Beneath the full-skirted gown, she wore brand new underwear of cool eggshell satin, and on her long slender legs were silk stockings. A pair of embroidered velvet slippers were on her small feet.

Her hair was clean and shiny, and it was she who had shampooed it. She was proud of that. It was the first time in her life she had ever shampooed her own hair. She was prouder still of the fact that she had helped the skillful Consuela dress her freshly washed hair. It had been such fun. The two of them had laughed like young girls while both labored to brush, curl, and sweep the springy ginger locks into a fashionable coiffeur atop her head.

With the aid of expensive creams and oils followed by a generous dusting of powder, her slightly sunburned face now looked almost as pale as ever. Lip rouge cleverly concealed her chapped lips; her mouth was again lush and soft.

Pausing on the upstairs landing, the princess drew a deep, relaxed breath. She was confident that her sanity had fully returned. She no longer need concern herself with the lurking sexual danger of Virgil Black. She was not the least bit worried that she might slip and fall again.

It was not going to happen.

The dark, devilish Ranger no longer posed a threat.

31

“
Ah, Señorita Eva,
” said Don Amondo. He was waiting for her at the base of the stairs. “How beautiful you look this evening.
Muy bonito!
”

Smiling at him as she descended the last two carpeted steps, the princess took his offered hand and said, “If I do, it is all thanks to your daughter, Soraya.” She touched the delicate lace ruffle of the gown’s off-the-shoulder bodice. “Consuela told me the dress belongs to your eldest daughter. I hope she won’t mind my borrowing it.”

“No, no. Soraya is a very sweet, generous young woman.” He beamed with paternal pride as he spoke of his eighteen-year-old daughter. “I hope one day you two will meet.”

“I hope so, too.”

“Now, come.” Don Amondo took her arm. “
El capitán
awaits us in the
sala
.”

The don ushered the princess into the
sala
as the desert sun was setting. Lamps glowed brightly, illuminating portions of the spacious room, leaving others in shadow. At the far end of the sala, in the shadows, a man stood before the cold fireplace, his back to the room.

“Here she is,
Capitán,
” the don announced.

Virgil Black slowly turned around. He paused, then stepped up into the light. The princess immediately made a misstep, almost stumbled. If not for the don’s supporting hand under her arm, she would have fallen.

She had, foolishly, she realized now, expected Virgil to look just as he had when she went upstairs. Nothing could have been farther from the truth.

He stood there, unmoving, perfectly framed by the huge rock fireplace. An elegantly clad, immaculately groomed man who was so sinfully handsome, the awed princess felt as if she couldn’t breathe.

The shaggy raven hair had been clipped and washed and brushed straight back from his temples. The bushy black beard was gone. His handsome face was smoothly shaven and glowing with good health. A faint pink line, left there by her scratching nail, curved down his tanned left cheek. His right earlobe was decorated with a tiny healing scab, also thanks to her.

His beautiful eyes were a startling blue in the darkness of his face. His lips, those exquisitely sculptured lips, were turned up in a sexy half smile.

His soiled black shirt and trousers were gone, replaced with a well-cut formal charro suit of midnight black and a snowy white shirt of shimmering silk. A scarf of flaming scarlet was tied around his throat, and in his lapel was one perfect red rose. The short bolero jacket, stretching appealingly across his wide shoulders, hung open down his chest. Through the fine silk of his white shirt she could see the shadowy darkness of crisp curly hair and smooth bronzed skin.