Chapter Eleven #3
Carly could have hugged him. Vincent rolled to his feet and came at Ramon with more strength than she would have guessed. Vincent took the first blow, but Ramon took the second. They tied up and started swinging again, but torch light streaming in through the windows stayed the battle.
Her uncle strode into the barn, followed by Sam Hollister and his wife, Amanda, George Winston, Royce Wardell, and what appeared to be nearly half the guests from the fandango, including Vincent’s father.
Dear God! Carly clutched her ruined clothes, her face going hot with embarrassment.
With a shaky hand, she plucked at the stems of straw in her tumbled down hair.
God in heaven, what would they think? Vincent straightened to face her uncle, feigning a look of contrition, while Ramon remained in the shadows.
“What is the meaning of this? What’s going on here, Vincent?” Torch light lit her uncle’s stout features. She’d expected to see outrage. Instead he appeared oddly calm.
“You have my most sincere apologies, Mr. Austin. Caralee is not in the least to blame. I invited her out here to give her a gift, which only arrived just this morning.” He smiled charmingly, almost boyishly. Carly wanted to kick him. “She looked so beautiful, I simply lost my head.”
Her uncle merely frowned. “These things happen among young people your age. You understand the consequences, of course.”
Carly’s mind spun. These things happen? Surely she hadn’t heard Uncle Fletcher correctly.
Then she saw it. The gleam of triumph in his cool green eyes she could not possibly mistake.
Carly’s gaze swung to Vincent, who also looked slightly triumphant.
She stared at them both in growing horror.
They had planned this from the start! Vincent had meant for them to be caught, perhaps in the embarrassing act itself.
Her face flamed even brighter, and her anger swelled until she could barely breathe.
How could they? Frantic at what was to come, she searched out Ramon, saw his hard dark features outlined in the glow of the lamp.
She could tell by his expression he realized what was happening just as she did.
There was anger in the sharp planes of his face, pity in his eyes, and something else she could not name.
There would be no help from him, she realized dully. Ramon had left her to her fate and she had no choice but to accept it.
Well, she wasn’t going to do it!
One of the women said something. Carly’s eyes strayed toward Amanda Hollister and the other ladies in the crowd.
If she didn’t marry Vincent, they would no longer welcome her among them.
She’d be an outcast, an embarrassment to her neighbors and the few friends she had only begun to make.
Fury at her uncle swept over her, making her hands begin to shake.
It was followed by a wave of defeat. Her shoulders sagged and her stomach twisted.
Good Lord, was there nothing she could do?
Vincent was speaking expansively, begging her uncle’s forgiveness, asking for her hand, and insuring him he would make a good husband. They could be married, he said, before his return to the city.
Carly felt sick at the thought. She glanced again at Ramon, who stood so stoically silent, and the means of her salvation struck her like the answer to a prayer.
It was so simple, so obvious she felt giddy, lightheaded with relief. Her mind churned, fleshing the notion out, looking for pitfalls. It wasn’t perfect, she admitted, but she had no other choice. And the lesson it would teach her uncle would be worth it. She could hardly wait to see his face.
Carly bit her lip against a wild impulse to giggle. Ramon would be furious, but once they were alone, she could explain things, make him understand.
She took a step toward the crowd and conjured her sweetest smile. “This has gone far enough, Vincent. You’ve been more than kind, in fact you’ve been incredibly chivalrous, but I just can’t let you do it.”
“What? What are you talking about?” He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. In truth she had just regained her wits in the nick of time.
“I’m thanking you, Vincent, for trying to be noble. I know you want to help me and I appreciate it more than I can say, but I see no reason for you to accept the blame for something that you didn’t do.”
The crowd made an audible gasp. Carly turned and stared directly at Ramon.
“And since that is the case, and Senor de la Guerra is an equally honorable man, I’m certain he is also equally willing to do the right thing.
” Her smile held determination, a look that said he owed her this, and a silent reminder that she held his life in her hands. “Isn’t that so, Don Ramon?”
For a moment he said nothing, just stared at her as if he couldn’t believe what she had just done. But Carly felt certain he would speak up soon enough. The man was El Dragón. Caralee McConnell knew it. The Spaniard had no choice.
He stepped out of the shadows and into the light of the torches.
His features looked harsh and grim, the skin stretched taut over his high cheekbones.
“I apologize to the senorita for the liberties I have taken.” A cold, unrepentant smile curved his lips.
“And of course to you, Senor Austin. It is my fondest wish to make your niece my wife.”
“W-why that’s absurd!” Her uncle surged forward like an angry bear. “There is no way I could possibly allow my niece to marry—”
“I’m sorry we’ve displeased you, Uncle,” Carly interrupted, “but as you said, these things happen among young people our age.” He had succeeded in forcing her to marry—there was no way around it. But Ramon was by far the better choice. At least he would be, once he understood her intentions.
The don worked a muscle in his lean hard cheek. “There is, of course, the problem of our different religions.” A last possible means of escape. His eyes were dark with warning. End this foolishness now, they said. Before it is too late.
This time it was Carly whose smile was triumphant. “My father was Irish. I was raised in the Catholic faith.” True, she hadn’t been to church since she’d arrived in California, but that didn’t alter the fact that her religion was the same as Ramon’s. “The priest will not object to the marriage.”
“Say something, Vincent. Speak up, my boy.”
“What—what are you trying to do, Caralee? How can you possibly marry this—”
“The marriage will take place on Sunday,” Ramon put in coldly, his tall, hard body radiating with barely leashed fury.
“Under the circumstances, I am sure Padre Xavier will waive the bans.” By now the Montoyas had arrived.
They were wealthy and powerful, one of the last few Californio families in a strong position of influence.
Her uncle sagged at the sight of them, knowing he couldn’t refuse Ramon’s proposal without also insulting them.
Carly knew she had won.
“I will speak to the priest tomorrow,” the don said curtly, his dark eyes still glinting with fire and a promise of retribution that sent shivers down Carly’s spine.
She hadn’t seen that look since the morning after the raid when she’d awakened to the sight of his tall, black boots.
She brushed the unsettling notion away. Once she explained, Ramon would understand.
“Caralee?” Vincent turned pleading hazel eyes in her direction, their depths still clouded with disbelief. “Are you really going to marry this—”
“I’m afraid so, Vincent.” She smiled at him even more sweetly. “After all, it’s the only decent thing to do.”