Sweet Silken Bondage Page 3

  "Pity," she cooed, watching in disappointment as he pulled on his pants and buckled his belt. "It's still so early.. .we could..."

  "Here." Clay dug a hand into his pants' pocket and pulled out his remaining cash. He quickly tossed a goodly amount on the bed next to her, and he watched as her eyes widened in appreciation.

  "Ooh, thanks. But for this much are you sure you wouldn't like to...?"

  "Forget it." The only thing Clay wanted to do was to get out of there. "Where's my horse?"

  "He's in the stable out back."

  "Thanks." Clay gave a nod as he finished buttoning his shirt and then picked up his hat. He was opening the door when she spoke again.

  "Will you be back?"

  There was a wistfulness to her tone that made Clay pause as he started from the room. He glanced back at her and saw the flicker of hope in her eyes.

  "No," he said solemnly, "I won't be back."

  Somehow Moniq.ue had known his answer before he'd said it. She realized all along that he didn't belong there with her, even though she longed to keep him with her if she could. He was from another world. A world she dreamed of, but knew she never would belong to. Tears burned in her eyes as she watched him expectantly, waiting for him to leave. But when he turned from the door and came back to the bedside, she held her breath. With a gentle touch, Clay reached down and drew her to her knees before him on the bed. In a sweet, tender gesture, he kissed her cheek. He left her then without saying a word.

  There was a touch of sadness in her voice when she called after him, "You take care of yourself..." But he had already gone, shutting the door behind him.

  It was long hours in the saddle later when Clay turned his mount down Windown's main drive. Since leaving the city, he'd been sorting out his thoughts, and it had been painful for him. No longer was he the young innocent who'd left the plantation several days before. He'd faced the ugly truth of his life now, and as his beloved home came into distant view at the end of the winding road, he knew what he had to do.

  Clay reined his horse in beneath one of the spreading oak trees bordering the drive just to enjoy the view of the house for one last time. Six years ago, the house had been a modest, but decaying, wooden, two-story structure with little magnificence or character. Today, the pillared, glistening, whitewashed brick, three-story mansion was the crowning glory of all his father's, and his own, hard work. They had both struggled and fought to make Windown into the success that it was, but, Clay realized with a sickened heart, all his work had been for nothing. His mother would not be returning... not now... not ever.

  A great weariness of soul claimed Clay, and he closed his eyes against the memories that threatened to overwhelm him. He didn't want to think about how, up until just a few days ago, he'd held onto the dream of hearing the sound of his mother's footsteps in the hall once again or catching the scent of her sweet, light perfume as she swept through the rooms. That was over. Finished. Part of the past.

  Still, Clay knew that if he returned to Windown, those memories would haunt him forever. The dream of his mother coming home had been his driving force all this time. Everything he'd accomplished had been done with that goal in his mind, and now he realized that goal was unattainable.

  His dream shattered, Clay knew that he had to get away. The woman he'd cherished and strove to please all these years had never really existed. The mother he'd loved had been purely a figment of his naive, wishful imagination. Well, Clay told himself firmly, he was naive and wishful no longer. He would leave Windown and the pain of its memory-shadowed glory. Clay mounted up again and rode on toward the house, ready to face his father with the news.

  Philip did not try to disguise the tears that clouded his vision as he watched Clay pack his saddlebags the following day. He had argued with his son long into the night, trying to convince him not to leave, but his efforts had been futile. Clay had become as stubborn a man as he himself was. Once he was determined to do something, he would not be deterred.

  "I'm going to miss you, son," he told Clay, his voice choked with emotion.

  "I'm going to miss you, too," Clay replied, looking up from his task to find his father's sorrow-filled eyes upon him.

  "Are you sure you're doing the right thing?"

  "I'm doing the only thing," he reaffirmed his conviction to go. He knew that his father didn't want him to leave, but this was something he had to do. "Who knows what I'll find out west? I may end up in California and try my luck at the gold fields. I might even strike it rich..." Clay let the thought drop without further comment. Wealth was the last thing he was concerned about right now. He had learned for a fact that riches didn't bring happiness. All he wanted was inner peace.

  "You'll come back?" Philip desperately needed to know that Clay would one day return; without that hope to cling to, his life stretched before him in one endless sea of pointlessness.

  "I'll be back," Clay promised.

  "Windown is your home. No matter where you are or what you're doing, remember that."

  "I will."

  The moment was a poignant one as their gazes locked. Philip knew his son was a man now, but he couldn't stop himself from throwing his arms around him and hugging him. Clay returned the embrace without reserve, feeling all the love and affection his father held for him in that one heartfelt moment. When they moved apart, there was no embarrassment, only a true depth of caring.

  Clay picked up his things then, and they started from the room. They made their way to the front of the house without saying anything more.

  "You be careful and take care of yourself," Philip urged as they stepped out onto the wide front porch.

  "You, too," Clay replied. They clasped hands one last time. After a final glance at the house, Clay descended the stair$ to mount the waiting Raven. Putting his knees to Raven's sides, he headed off down the drive, a solitary man.

  Philip watched his son ride away, his heart filling with an acrid bitterness for the woman who was responsible for all their misery.

  "Evaline..." he spat. Her name was a curse on his lips as he silently reviled her. He'd despised her ever since that fateful day six years before. Evaline-so selfish, so vicious, so destructive. The pitiful part of it was, Philip knew she had no idea of the heartbreak she'd caused her son. The woman was completely without conscience.

  During the last six years, Philip had been tempted to tell Clay the truth about his mother, but had refrained. Clay had loved her deeply with a child's devotion, and he had not wanted to take that last vestige of innocence from him. As he watched him disappear from sight, Philip wondered if he'd been wrong in trying to protect him. Guilt assailed him for keeping his silence, but he dismissed it. Clay had been bound to find out about her for himself, and now that he knew the truth too, neither one of them would ever be hurt by her again.

  Righteous anger blossomed in his bitterness, and as Philip turned back into the house, he knew it was time to take action. There was no longer any reason to allow Evaline to continue to sully the Cordell name. He would send word to his attorney in New Orleans and have him start divorce proceedings immediately. Since Clay knew the truth, it didn't matter any more. He didn't have to continue to pretend that there was hope. He wanted that remaining tie between Evaline and himself cut as quickly as possible. As Philip sat down at his desk and began to write the missive to his lawyer, he felt a lightness of spirit that he hadn't experienced for years, and he knew instinctively that he was doing the right thing.

  Monterey, California, 1858

  With shaking hands, Reina Isabel Alvarez adjusted the skirts of the long-sleeved, high-necked white dress she'd just changed into.

  "Here, now put this on," her friend, Maria, a petite, pretty, dark-haired girl, instructed solemnly as she held out a floor-length garment that was to be worn biblike, front and back over the loose-fitting dress.

  Reina did as she was told, slipping the unusual piece of clothing over her head and feeling as if she'd been enveloped by a tent when it was
in place.

  "Here, Reina. This is most important..."

  Reina reached for the stiffly starched, waist-length, black veil that Maria offered. She was about to don the headpiece when her gaze fell upon the pile of her own hastily discarded clothing on the small bed nearby, and she hesitated. Staring at the fashionable emerald-green riding habit and fancy petticoats, Reina's expression was tinged with regret. She loved beautiful clothes, and it pained her to think that she had to give them up. The memory of her purpose reasserted itself, though, and her dark eyes hardened with their intent. With a strength of will inherited from her father, she put on the veil, tucking her long, raven tresses beneath it. That done, she turned to face her friend, who'd been watching the final transformation in silence from across the room.

  "Well, Maria, what do you think?" Reina asked nervously, taking care to keep her voice soft and low. Only Maria knew she was there in the convent, and it was important that she not be discovered.

  Maria, Reina's friend since childhood stared at her in awe-struck wonder. "Take a look for yourself," she urged in a whisper, pointing to the small mirror over the washstand in the corner of her tiny, spartanlyfurnished bedroom.

  Reina swallowed tightly as she turned to the mirror. This had to work! It just had to! She lifted her gaze to look at her reflection and was startled by the vision of the woman who gazed back at her. It was she, and yet, it wasn't!

  Reina studied her mirror image in disbelief. The eyes were her eyes, wide, dark brown and expressive as they reflected the uncertainty she was now feeling. The mouth was her mouth, full and mobile, given to quick pouts and even quicker smiles when she was given her way. The chin was her chin with its determined tilt that revealed so much of her fiery, stubborn personality. Yet, despite recognizing all these individual features, with her hair hidden beneath the concealing veil, she looked entirely different. She looked like a nun.

  "I don't believe it..." Reina breathed, staring at herself.

  "Believe it. You look as if you were born to a vocation," Maria said in a low voice, wondering how the haughty, flamboyant Reina Alvarez, only daughter of the richest ranchero in the valley, could change her image so completely just by donning a nun's habit. Reina looked positively devout, and if there was one thing Reina wasn't, it was devout. Not that she was a bad person. It was just that for as long as Maria had known her, Reina had been too full of herself, too much in love with the joys of living her life to the fullest to give much thought to anything besides her own pleasures.

  "Perhaps I should consider joining you here?" She glanced back over her shoulder at her friend.

  "Don't jest about something so sacred," Maria reprimanded her firmly. She knew full well what Reina's thoughts were about the religious life, for she had tried to talk her out of joining the order several times. Maria had not listened to her, though, and had just been professed after completing her required year as a novice.

  "Who's jesting?" Reina returned petulantly. "Even a life here would be far preferable to being forced to marry that disgusting American!" She practically spat the word "American," so deep was her dislike for the man her father had so unexpectedly chosen to be her betrothed.

  A shiver skittered down Reina's spine as she remembered how only three nights ago her father had announced his plan that she would marry the American, Nathan Marlow, in just six short months. If that hadn't been shocking enough, he'd refused to listen to her objections, and his uncharacteristic, callous disregard for her feelings had hurt her. Still, at the time, Reina had felt certain that she would eventually be able to convince him to change his mind, for, after all, he had never denied her anything before. But when her father had gone ahead and made the surprise announcement that very night at the party they were giving at Rancho Alvarez, she'd been trapped.

  Furious over what Reina considered to be her father's betrayal, she'd been forced to act out a charade of happiness for their guests with the smiling, gloating Nathan at her side. When the crowd of well-wishers who'd gathered around the happy couple had dispersed, she'd been helpless to object as the blondhaired American businessman had maneuvered her out onto the patio for a few minutes alone. Reina had tried to maintain her calm, but when Nathan had boldly kissed her and then attempted to caress her, she had fought him tooth and nail. Reina had had her fair share of kisses from her many suitors, but there had been something about Nathan's touch that had repulsed her, and she wasn't quite sure why.

  Reina grimaced inwardly now, as the memory of his derisive laugh and taunting words "Don't worry, Reina, I can wait for our wedding night. You'll be mine soon enough!" echoed threateningly through her. Again, Reina shivered, and, realizing that Maria was talking to her, she dragged her thoughts away from the misery of that night.

  "I don't understand how you can say Nathan Marlow is disgusting," Maria was saying. "I've seen him, and he's not an ugly man."

  "If you think he's so handsome, you marry him!" Reina told her heatedly, knowing she would never be able to stand having him touch her again.

  "Reina! You know I'll never marry! I was just saying that Nathan's not unattractive. He's rich, too, isn't he?"

  "I don't need money, and I certainly don't need a husband!" Reina faced her friend, her eyes flashing with indignation. "I just don't know how my father could have done this to me! How could he have pledged me in marriage without first considering my feelings?"

  "It's true, this doesn't sound like your father," Maria agreed, puzzled. "Did you try to talk to him about it?"

  "I tried, but he wouldn't listen!"

  "What reason did he give you for his sudden decision that you should marry?"

  "That's what's so strange. He wouldn't give me a reason. He just said that it was time I got married and that Nathan was perfect for me. I'm only nineteen, Maria, hardly a spinster!" Reina agonized. "I've always dreamed of marrying for love, but now..."

  "Is there some other way you can make your point with him?" Maria suggested hopefully, trying to dis courage her from this wild scheme she'd concocted. Yet, even as she tried to dissuade Reina, she knew her obstinate friend was not about to be deterred.

  "No, I've tried everything already. When Father locked me in my room and-"

  "I don't believe it! He locked you in your room?" Maria was shocked. She had known Luis Alvarez all her life, and it was not like him to be so harsh with his daughter.

  "Yes, and he threatened to keep me there until I agreed to do as he ordered." Reina felt suddenly tired, and she sat down on the small bed. "I stayed there for one whole day, but it didn't sway him at all. When I tried to talk with him again, he still refused to listen to reason. That's when I knew I had to do something drastic just to let him know how serious I was."

  "So you came here..."

  "It took me almost a full day of traveling by horseback, but it was worth it. Father will never look for me here, and, with this disguise, I should be able to make it safely to New Orleans. I have friends there who'll help me."

  "You're planning on traveling to New Orleans alone?"

  "I am." She bristled at her friend's unspoken criticism. Nothing was going to stop her from escaping the fate her father had planned for her, nothing!

  "But you can't!" Maria insisted, coming to sit beside her. "It isn't safe for you to travel unescorted."

  "God will be my escort," she replied with flourish. "I'm a nun now, remember? No one's going to bother me."

  "I wish I could be as sure as you are."

  "You can be sure, Maria. Nothing's going to happen to me." A rueful smile curved Reina's lips as she stared down at the relatively shapeless garment she wore. She had always prided herself on her extensive wardrobe, making it a point to be perfecdy gowned for every occasion. Certainly, Reina decided, this was the perfect gown for this occasion. Since the habit reflected an image of purity, chastity and godliness, Reina was sure that no man would even look at her, let alone give her a second thought. It was the total opposite of her usual way of thinking, and yet, she wa
s immensely pleased by the idea. To make her getaway, she had to travel unnoticed.

  "I hope not!"

  "Everything's going to be fine once my father realizes that I'm not about to marry Nathan," she declared, believing in her heart that her father would come around to her way of thinking.

  There was a sound in the hall outside Maria's closed door, and the young nun's eyes widened in sudden panic as she realized the precariousness of their situation. She had smuggled Reina into the convent when she'd come to her for help, and she could not afford to have anyone discover she was there, especially not wearing one of the other sister's borrowed habits.

  "Shhh..." She clutched Reina's hand as she glanced nervously toward the door. "If we get caught now..." Her stomach knotted at the thought. Her Mother Superior wouldn't look kindly on her activities with Reina.

  Maria's warning reminded Reina that her victory over her father's unbending domination was not yet insured, and she went a little pale.

  "We'll have to be extra careful," Maria warned.

  "How soon can I leave without anyone seeing me?"

  "Maybe another hour... everybody's usually in bed by midnight. We can sneak you out then."

  "Good, then all I have to do is make it onto the stagecoach without being caught. After that, it'll be easy."

  "I hope you're right, Reina."

  "Of course, I'm right. By the time father discovers where I've gone, he'll have realized what a foolish mistake it was to try to force me into marriage. He'll be so happy to have me back that hell agree to anything," Reina explained simplistically. Yet, even as she tried to convince herself that it would happen as she hoped, she couldn't help but wonder about the unusual way her father had acted in regard to the betrothal. It was totally out of character for him to coerce her into doing anything; yet, in the face of her adamant refusal, he had not backed down. Instead, he had become even more insistent and had even punished her! She prayed that her plan would work for if it didn't-

  It occurred to Reina that things might never be the same, and the prospect deeply frightened her. Stiffening her resolve, she banished all thoughts of failure. Her father was going to come around. He had to!