The Dancer (10 page)

He pulled her close. "Mexico's turned you into a little vixen."

"Where did you learn those steps?" she asked, her voice muffled by his chest.

"Which ones?"

"I think there's more than one fox in this bed. I mean the flamenco dancing."

"The same place you did."

"Not from Madame Maria! She would have told me."

"I asked her not to. I watched you dance and I saw what you offered your partner. I knew it was part of the dance but all the same I could hardly bear to see you with him. I told myself someday you'd dance with me and when you did, your offering would be for me and I'd take it and you'd be mine. So I had to learn the steps."

She pulled back to stare at him. What she'd thought was her own idea, a way to get even with Lois, Davis had planned for years. It was the first time she'd thought of Lois since the beginning of the flamenco dance and she immediately wished she hadn't. "You're engaged to be married." She spoke flatly.

"This is no time to bring that up." He leaned over to kiss her, trailing kisses down to her breasts.

Elena tried to prevent herself from forgetting Lois, but forgot everything except the way he made her feel. His lips coaxed while he touched her in places that heated her blood.

"Love me, sweet Elena." His voice was soft, but the part of him she'd barely begun to know was far from soft and the feel of it against her thigh melted the marrow of her bones.

This time she knew exactly what she wanted.

When Elena woke in the morning Davis was gone from the bed and from the room. She sat up, looking for some indication he meant to come back, but saw nothing. Perhaps he'd left a note. She didn't find one. After washing and dressing hurriedly, she stood a moment inside the closed door of his bedroom gathering her nerve to face whoever she might find on the other side of the door. Servants were no problem but Stella was another story. Calling on La Coralilla's aplomb, she opened the door.

No one was in the corridor or on the stairs. She stood in the foyer wondering where Davis had gone and what she should do. If he expected her to stay here, she must return to Bothwicks for her belongings. But did he expect her to stay? Why had he left without waking her to say where he was going?

"Good morning, Elena." Stella spoke from the doorway leading to the dining room. "Come on in and have a bit of breakfast with me."

Elena turned, a meaningless smile already in place. "Thank you, but I'd best be getting back."

"Don't climb on your high-horse, miss. I'm too damn old to care what you or anyone else does. Sit down and tell me all about Mexico City. I used to live there a century or so ago."

"Another time I'd love to but--"

Stella's shrewd gaze probed Elena. "Just like Davis to run off without telling you why--I can see that's exactly what he did. Well, I'll give you a rundown. Old Jarvis, the lawyer, called early this morning. It seems some character showed up at the corporation office claiming he owns a third of the ranch, says he's the son of Diarmid's bastard."

Elena blinked. Had Diarmid concealed more than the fact he'd been married twice?

"While I don't put it past Diarmid to have littered the countryside with bastards," Stella went on, "it isn't all that easy for one of them to prove who his father was. Hank Jarvis thought this guy might have proof. You know Davis--he flew off the handle at the mere idea and rushed into Los Angeles to confront the claimant face to face."

Elena took a deep breath. Was Stella making this up out of kindness? No, Stella didn't lie outright. There probably was a claimant but she doubted if that's where Davis had gone. He'd brushed off Lois easily enough last night but it was morning now. Whether he'd brought Lois to Bothwicks by buggy or motorcar, she wasn't sure, but she did know he'd left his fiancee stranded there last night without, as far as she was aware, any explanation.

Wasn't it likely Davis had realized what he'd done and hurried off to present some excuse to Lois and make amends? The more she thought about it, the more certain Elena became that was what had happened. Otherwise, wouldn't he have left her a note? He probably hoped she'd have the sense to leave before he came back.

Elena lifted her chin. "Thanks for inviting me to breakfast, Mrs. White, but I really do have to go."

"You always were proud as hell," Stella said. "Any message for Davis?"

Elena shook her head. What was there to say?

"I've got a message for Meg," Stella said. "You tell her I don't mind not getting invited to her parties but she better get over here to see me pretty soon or there'll be the devil to pay."

As it turned out, Jack hadn't yet gotten around to sending the horses back to the Bothwicks so Elena had Bella to ride. Jack offered to go with her on the gray Davis had borrowed last night, leading a mount to return on, but she refused curtly. Why should she care about Jack's feelings or anyone else's when no one cared about hers?

She urged Bella into a gallop, the wind drying the tears on her face but doing nothing to ease the pain in her heart. Davis hadn't so much as told her he loved her; what had she expected? That he'd break off his engagement and marry her? Marry Elena Gabaldon when Lois Hughes's father owned half of San Diego?

Her lips tightened. She wasn't merely poor little Elena any longer, she was also La Coralilla. Who would soon be dancing in Spain, dancing for a king. Other men admired her, she'd turned down several offers of marriage. To hell with Davis Burwash! She didn't need him.

Meg rushed out to meet her as she was dismounting by the back door of the Bothwicks.

"You surely did surprise me!" Meg cried. "You and Davis. It's been him all along, hasn't it? But I never thought you'd go off like that, right in front of everyone."

Elena shrugged. "I'm not the same person you once knew, Meg, you said yourself I've changed."

“I guess so!" Meg grinned at her as she led the way inside. "I'm all for the new you. Apparently my brother feels the same way. Lois got her comeuppance for that nasty remark she made to you--she had to go home with the Bradons last night."

The old Elena would have apologized for causing embarrassment, La Coralilla didn't. But then, the old Elena wouldn't have ridden into the night with Davis, either.

"I'm all ears if you feel like talking," Meg said. "I never kiss and tell." Elena kept her voice light. "But I'm afraid I'll have to leave much sooner than I planned. Today, in fact, if there's still an evening train leaving Los Angeles."

In spite of Meg's pleas and protestations, Elena called the Santa Fe station and arranged for a berth. With the help of a maid, she packed her belongings, pausing for a moment with her hand on the small velvet-covered box she'd bought for the Gabaldon locket. Had Concepcion loved Diarmid as much as she did Davis? Had Concepcion's love led to her death as Don Francisco had claimed?

I should have listened to the old man's warnings about Burwash duplicity, Elena told herself.

Meg, who'd been pacing back and forth in agitation, stopped in front of her. "Aren't you even going to say goodbye to Davis?" she demanded.

"Stella told me he was involved in some law dispute--I can't wait."

Meg's eyebrows rose. "That's strange, Warren didn't mention anything about it. I wonder what--?"

Patrick ran into the room and stopped short, staring at Elena. She smiled at him. He was all boy, red-haired and freckled, with a mischievous gleam in his blue eyes.

"You going away?" he asked.

"Yes. On the train."

"My mama and daddy go on the train all the time. I don't get to. Can I go with you?"

"I wish you could," Elena told him. As she spoke she caught sight of a round, childish face peering around the doorjamb. "Hello, Antonio," she called.

Antonio ducked back, too shy to answer.

"You have to bring Tonio, too," Patrick told her. "He always goes with me. He's my friend."

Remembering that long ago fearful and jouncing ride from Tia Juana to San Diego with Patrick in her arms and Antonio on her lap made Elena's eyes prick with tears. She blinked them back.

"I'm glad you have a friend like Antonio," she told Patrick. "But I'm afraid I can't bring either of you with me. You see, the train's taking me all the way to New York City and then I'm sailing on a ship, clear across the Atlantic Ocean to Spain. That's too far for you or Antonio to go. Think how your mama and daddy would miss you."

"Antonio hasn't got a daddy. And mine wouldn't miss me."

Elena glanced at Meg who was frowning at her son. "Why he would too, Patrick," Meg scolded. "Daddy loves you just as much as I do."

Patrick's scowl told Elena he didn't for a moment believe his mother. It told her something else as well.

That he resembled a Dugald in more ways than his red hair. "If Elena took you with her you'd miss your birthday party in October," Meg went on. "Think about that."

"Aw, she won't take me anyhow. But when I get big enough I'm gonna ride all the trains I want to. And drive a big car, too. Me and Tonio."

"Even if I can't take you, will you give me a hug goodbye?" Elena asked him, stooping down and holding out her arms.

"I guess I have to." Patrick advanced slowly across to her but as soon as her arms closed around him, he was squirming to be free. She let him go and ruffled his hair.

"I'll bring you and Antonio a present from Spain," she promised.

"Okay." He darted out the door, calling to Antonio.

Meg frowned after him. "It's impossible to teach that boy any manners. Antonio is ten times better behaved than Patrick."

"I think Patrick's a little darling."

Meg grinned at her. "You try raising him and you'd soon change your mind. And the word. Little devil's more like it."

"Speaking of devils, Stella gave me a message for you."

"Never mind, I know what it is. It's past time I visited her. Remember how she was always scolding me? She hasn't changed a bit."

Nor have you, Elena thought. Davis really hasn't either. But I have.

"Miz Bothwick." A maid stood in the doorway. "There's a call on the telephone. For Miz Gabaldon."

Elena's heart lifted. Davis! She flew down the stairs to the telephone closet in the foyer and lifted the receiver.

"So glad I caught you, Elena," Lois's cool voice said into her ear. "You tend to be elusive."

"I'm in a hurry." Elena didn't care if she sounded ungracious, she didn't wish to talk to Lois. Why had she thought it would be Davis when she knew better?

"I thought someone should tell you how embarrassing your brazen behavior was last night. Davis is very upset about it, more so than I, actually, but that's how men are. I don't mean to be unkind but--"

Elena took the receiver from her ear and set it deliberately into the holder. Davis had gone to Lois, exactly as she'd thought. And he'd told her--oh, God, what had he told her? Elena closed her eyes.

Meg called to her from the top of the stairs. "Who on earth was that?"

"No one important." Elena was amazed she could speak at all, much less so coolly. "Nothing that makes any difference."

Chapter Seven

Spain was everything Madame Marie had promised and Elena's dancing at the Teatre Real in Madrid more successful than she'd dreamed.

King Alfonso honored her by standing following her performance and he sent a gracious note afterwards, with flowers.

She knew she was dancing well, the trouble was she felt alive only when she danced. The rest of the time, though she made the effort to smile and talk with admirers and fellow dancers, she felt only numbness. Nothing mattered, she didn't care who she was with--what difference did it make when she'd just as soon be alone?

When Count Sevillano proposed marriage it meant nothing. He was wealthy, he was handsome, he was the catch of Europe and she didn't care. Very politely, she refused. Used to getting anything and everything he wanted, the count couldn't believe she meant what she said, he was certain she was only being coy. He persisted.

After three months of his courting, surrounded by flowers and candy and offered jewels she wouldn't accept, Elena finally took stock of herself.

She liked Luis well enough, he was a gentle man, if a trifle boring. Was she to spend the rest of her life dreaming of Davis at night and pushing him from her thoughts during the day? Davis would never be hers. Did she want to remain single all her days?

Elena accepted the count's proposal in March, setting the wedding date for June. Every newspaper in Spain carried the announcement that La Coralilla, the fiery Mexican dancer who'd captured the heart of every man in the country, was to wed one of their own.

Papers in New York picked up the news and it filtered west to California.