His shoulders made an almost imperceptible movement, as if throwing off a burden. “I’m glad you’re being sensible. We’ll be leaving for Kantalan right after the ceremony.”
“Kantalan.” Her eyes widened. “You’re going with me?”
The corners of his lips twisted with a crooked smile. “How else can I be certain I have no offspring wandering the face of the earth? I don’t think I could trust you to come to me for help if you needed it.” He turned away. “We’re taking two extra pack animals. If Kantalan exists, then maybe the treasure does too. Lord knows, Killara could use a barrel of gold in its coffers right now.” He moved swiftly toward the door. “So we’re not burdening the animals with anything but necessities. You can forget about that portmanteau. If your belongings won’t fit into a saddlebag, then leave them here. You’d only have to discard them when we load the burros with gold.” He opened the door. “If there is any gold.”
“But you do believe there is a treasure, don’t you?” Elspeth asked softly. “And you believe there is a Kantalan?”
He looked back at her. “I did once. I believed everything White Buffalo told me at the time.”
“Even the prophecy?”
He shrugged. “I was a wild, loco kid. That was before I gave up believing in dreams and lost cities. I’m different now.”
Elspeth felt a tug of tenderness. He was not as different as he pretended to be. There were still a few dreams he believed in. He believed in his vision for Killara and suddenly she realized that he believed in something else. “You didn’t really answer me. Do you believe Kantalan exists?”
He was silent a moment. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I believe in Kantalan. I suppose I always have.” The door closed softly behind him.
Elspeth stared straight ahead at the ornate gold design on the ivory-colored altar cloth; she could see the brown-robed figure of Father Benedict as he left them and mounted the three steps to the high altar. Did that mean it was almost over? She had understood very little of the Latin the priest had murmured over them, and had answered only when prompted by Dominic. She cast a sidewise glance at Dominic, standing beside her. His expression was grave, almost stern, as his gaze, too, followed the priest.
Husband. He was going to be her husband in a few short minutes. How strange to think of this wild, hard man in such domestic terms. Yet she was surely an equally unlikely bride in her brown riding skirt and boots. Her only bridal touch was the white lace mantilla Rising Star had draped over her neat bun before she’d entered the chapel.
“Your head must be covered,” Rising Star had said gently. “It is the custom.” Then she had leaned forward and brushed Elspeth’s cheek with her lips and whispered, “There is something wrong here. Malvina would not tell me why this was done in such haste. Are you content with this marriage? May I help you in any way?”
Content? Elspeth didn’t know what she was feeling at this moment but she knew it was not contentment. She also knew there was nothing Rising Star could do to alter the circumstances of this marriage. “No, there is no way you can help me,” she had said softly.
Rising Star had been silent for a moment, her dark eyes troubled. “I told Malvina I would not come and watch this marriage. I would share your joy, but I will not share your vows.” She turned abruptly away. “God be with you.” Then she was gone, hurrying back across the courtyard toward the house.
Elspeth glanced down at the fragile mantilla falling in graceful folds around her. “It is the custom.” It was clear Rising Star tried very hard to follow the customs of her husband’s people, and expected Elspeth to do likewise. It was the custom for a wife to respect and love her husband. It was the custom for her to bear his children and work at his side. It was the custom for her to occupy his bed and offer her body when he so desired…
“Are you all right?” It was Dominic’s low voice, his concerned gaze on her flushed cheeks. “It will be over in a minute.”
She drew a shaky breath. “Yes,” she whispered back. “It’s only that this is so… so unusual for me.”
His eyes twinkled. “It isn’t exactly an everyday affair for me either.” He slowly reached out and enfolded her small hand in his larger one. Support, comfort, serenity. How could one simple gesture tell her all those wonderful things? But his did.
Her clasp unconsciously tightened on his hand as she looked up to meet his eyes. She inhaled sharply and then forgot to breathe. There was something waiting there, something just out of reach, something beautiful.
He was gazing at her, his light eyes softly intent, his expression no longer amused, but holding the same breathless wonder. He impulsively moved closer. “Elspeth, I-”
The priest was returning, his plump face solemn, his voice still murmuring the words of the ritual.
With a painful effort Elspeth pulled her gaze away from Dominic’s. For a moment she had felt they were joined in an intimacy more complete than the one they had known in the night. There had been a question asked and answered, a memory perceived and accepted, a closeness once known reborn. She hadn’t wanted to abandon that closeness. It was a part of the beauty, a part of the merging, part of what had been and always would be.
“Kneel.”
Elspeth’s gaze flew back to Dominic. “What?”
“We have to kneel for the blessing.” His hand still held her own and she saw in his taut pale face the same poignant regret she was experiencing, as if he, too, had been pulled back too soon from that other place.
“Very well.” She didn’t move, gazing up at him.
“Now.” His smile lit his dark face with a rare masculine beauty. “Together.”
Together. What a truly lovely word, she thought dreamily. It encompassed strength and companionship, a linking of minds and bodies through an eternity of belonging.
In the rear of the chapel the heavy black woolen draperies that formed the walls of the confessional box moved slowly to one side as if shifted by an unseen hand.
The afternoon sunlight streamed through the narrow windows of the chapel surrounding Dominic Delaney and Elspeth MacGregor in a nimbus of radiance as they stood before the altar. They were gazing at each other, their hands clasped and their faces illuminated by another radiance that came from within.
How beautiful they were, Ramon Torres thought, sentimental tears springing to his eyes. The man was so tall and dark and strong, the woman small and fair and fragile in her fine white lace mantilla. Could anything be more joyous and touching than two souls joined by a love as strong as the one mirrored on their faces now?
The ornate wrought-iron grillwork surrounding the confessional booth was very convenient, Ramon Torres thought absently as he rested the tip of the barrel of his pistol in the opening formed by the fretwork. He carefully shifted the hole he had made in the black woolen draperies that formed the walls of the confessional. The grillwork masked any glint of sunlight on the barrel and enabled him a clear view of Dominic and his bride as they took their vows.
He noticed regretfully that they had turned to the priest again and he could no longer see the emotion that lit their faces. It was a pity he would not be able to see their expressions as the bullet struck Dominic. He had been anticipating that pleasure since yesterday afternoon, and had even dreamed of it during the night. He had awakened in the hayloft in a sweat of pleasure, spilling his seed on the straw, his heart throbbing with the sweetness of his vision. It was seldom he dreamed of his prey, and it was an indication of how important Dominic Delaney had become to him, how dearly he held him in his affections.
He felt a momentary flash of sadness as he realized that Dominic would never know in what esteem he was held. He would not even know that it was Ramon who had given him his last night of lust with the
The drawback in hunting the most dangerous prey was that the shot must almost always be in the back. He had hoped for something different for Dominic, but circumstances had proved unkind. When word had come to ready the horses and the burros for the couple’s departure, he had known the prey would be leaving his home grounds. If he was to take Dominic off guard, this would be his last opportunity.
Ramon’s muscles tautened as he leaned forward, his eyes narrowed on the two figures at the altar. It was suffocatingly hot in the booth, but he scarcely felt the heat. He was too full of the familiar excitement that always
