Midnight Fire Page 3

  "That was our turn! Where's the driver going?"

  "I ordered him to drive around town for a while."

  "Why? I thought you said you wanted to go home."

  "No. I said I was ready to leave the hotel. Gray and Tyler deserve a little privacy on their wedding night, don't you think?"

  "I think I'd rather spend this time at the hotel with Javier than cooped up in this carriage with you—especially since you're in such a disagreeable mood."

  "Why are you suddenly so interested in my private life?" he asked abruptly, catching Carlisle off guard.

  Trying to appear nonchalant, she lifted a shoulder in a faint shrug. "I heard rumors about you, and I was merely curious. Is that such a crime?"

  "They do call me El Gato Grande, which is ridiculous, but I can't say it's ever bothered me much. And I do wear a gun, and I don't mind using it. Anything else you want to know about me?"

  "Why do you feel the need to wear a gun?"

  "I feel the need because there are a lot of people who feel the need to see me dead."

  Carlisle answered in the same curt, bored tone he'd used. "Tell me, Mr. Lancaster, why doesn't that surprise me?"

  When he leaned back his head and laughed, Carlisle took advantage of his lighter mood.

  "May I see your gun?" she asked, leaning forward as if to slip her hand inside his coat. His fingers immediately locked tight around her wrist.

  "No, you may not."

  Intrigued, she relaxed against the seat and stared at him. "Why would anyone want to kill you?"

  "I made some enemies during the war. Enemies with long memories."

  "But hasn't Benito Juarez been in power for four years now?"

  "Si, but our government isn't as stable as yours. It'll take time to heal the wounds Maximilian and Carlota left behind them. I'm surprised Arantxa and Javier haven't explained all this to you."

  Carlisle hesitated. She had to be careful. "Arantxa said her family backed the emperor, but she and Javier were very young then."

  "In Mexico, even the young died at the hands of the French, Senorita Kincaid," he said, his tone low and serious. "As they did in your civil war."

  "My brothers kept me in Chicago, far away from the fighting. Sometimes I feel as if I've been living in a cave all these years, a nice fancy one with velvet chairs and expensive clothes. But I don't know a thing about real life," Carlisle said, surprising herself with her candor.

  "Isn't that the reason for your trip to Mexico?" Chase asked. "To try out your wings a bit without your brothers pulling you down?"

  "Maybe. Is that so wrong?"

  "Not if you act responsibly and don't let the wrong people influence you."

  "Are you talking about Arantxa and Javier?"

  "I'm saying that if you want to learn all about love, you should marry and let your husband teach you—not some inexperienced boy like Perez."

  Shocked, Carlisle could only stare at him. "Sometimes you amaze me. How dare you talk that way to me?"

  "Can you say you aren't interested in such things?"

  Angry color flooded Carlisle's face, because she couldn't deny it. "You're the rudest, most conceited man!"

  His laugh was low, mocking. "So it's true, is it?"

  His smile was totally, utterly mesmerizing, and Carlisle was so aware of his closeness that her pulse accelerated. She moistened her lips nervously. If he was such a womanizer, would he try to seduce her? The dark, intimate confines of the carriage were certainly conducive, and the idea was as exciting as it was dreadful. Was he thinking of grabbing her and forcing her to kiss him? Or worse?

  "I've decided a duenna should accompany you on the voyage," he said, his voice disrupting her thoughts.

  "A what?" Carlisle asked, rather disappointed he was obviously not considering any kind of inappropriate behavior.

  "In my country young, marriageable girls such as yourself are required to have a female chaperone to accompany them everywhere they go. At least, until they're safely married and have a husband to protect them." One corner of his mouth curved into a smile. "The custom prevents unsavory scandals and assures a man that his bride is virtuous."

  Carlisle was outraged. "Are you insinuating that I am . . . that I would—"

  "No need to take offense, Senorita Kincaid. But I did happen to see the Perez boy kissing you out on the balcony. I'm afraid I just can't let anything like that happen again. I'd have failed miserably in my duty if I had to telegraph Gray someday and invite him to your hastily arranged wedding. So you'll just have to put up with a duenna while you're in my care."

  Incredulous, Carlisle stared at him. "You were spying on us!"

  "Gray told me to keep an eye on you. Otherwise I wouldn't have bothered." His smile appeared again. "Actually, by the look of Javier's kiss, I doubt if you were very much impressed, one way or another."

  Carlisle's fingers curled into fists. "And what does El Gato Grande's kiss do to women? Turn them to mush?"

  He laughed. "Sometimes."

  Carlisle looked at his handsome face, wondering if there really was a difference in the way men kissed. Perhaps she should find out. Why not flirt a bit, sample the kiss of a man known for his philandering? It would be an intriguing experiment.

  "I daresay kissing you wouldn't affect me one whit. After all, you have to like someone a little before you can enjoy kissing them."

  "Shall we find out, Senorita Kincaid?"

  His challenge hung between them for an instant.

  "Don't get your hopes up, Senor Lancaster," she warned, but her heart skipped a beat as Chase moved toward her, his thumb and fingers gently bracketing her jaw. He held her firmly, capturing her gaze before his mouth came down on hers—soft, warm, undemanding. He began to taste her mouth, molding his lips to hers, and Carlisle was swiftly flooded with peculiar, weak, fluttery sensations in the pit of her stomach, as if dozens of canaries were trapped there. Her reeling senses settled when he paused momentarily to look into her eyes. But then he began again, more intensely, hard and insistent, compelling her to respond. When his tongue found its way to hers, she moaned and clung weakly to his shoulders. He released her then, leaning back against the squabs.

  Carlisle stared at him, her fingers on her throbbing lips.

  "Do you call that a kiss?" she managed shakily, determined to act as indifferent to the experience as he had.

  "You mean it didn't turn you to mush?"

  His description was not far from the truth, but Carlisle remained silent, striving to regain her composure.

  "You're really an awful man," she finally managed to say, her voice husky. "Gray would never let you escort me to Mexico if he knew you had kissed me like that."

  "True, he probably wouldn't, but we don't have to worry about him finding out, do we? Because you're not about to tell him or he'll put a stop to your little trip, and then you'd see even less of your precious Javier than you will with your duenna in tow."

  His tone was so openly scornful that Carlisle was shocked.

  "You're every bit as bad as they say, aren't you? You're worse than they say."

  "They?" he said casually, but a different, dangerous note had crept into his voice. "Who?"

  At once, Carlisle realized she'd made a mistake. Javier and Arantxa wouldn't want him to know they disliked him.

  "Why, everyone, of course," she answered lightly. "Even Tyler. She thought you were wonderful until you showed up here and made her marry Gray against her will. I think it's disgraceful the way you treated her. She's your own flesh and blood."

  "You seem to think your brother will be a disagreeable husband, Carlisle. Do you expect him to treat Tyler cruelly?"

  "No, of course not! Gray will be good to her, but that's not the point. The point—"

  "The point," he interrupted, "is that Gray is probably the best thing that ever happened to my cousin. She's lucky he even wanted to marry her after she tried to swindle ten thousand dollars out of him back in Chicago. She's behaved like a common crim
inal all her life, due to my own thieving father. He was nothing but a gambler and a confidence man, who taught her all his crooked games. I'd probably be as dishonest as Tyler, if my mother hadn't left him when I was young. I'm just thankful Gray's willing to take her hand."

  Chase paused, his eyes pinning her. "But you, Carlisle, you're just the opposite, aren't you? You've been sheltered and pampered like a little queen by your brothers ever since you were a baby. You've gone to all the best schools, met all the right people, which probably bored you to tears. So now you're ripe to run wild and entice every man you see with those incredible big green eyes of yours."

  Suddenly his voice took on an angry edge. "Unfortunately, in a moment of weakness I was thoughtless enough to offer you the hospitality of my ranch, a stupid blunder on my part, which I heartily regret but can hardly take back now. So what it all boils down to is this—whether you like it or not, you'll have a duenna to keep you in line while you're under my supervision in Mexico, because I'm already damn sick and tired of your spoiled tantrums."

  Carlisle was completely taken aback. This was hardly the first time they'd quarreled, but always before he'd shown no emotion, other than amused indifference. What had made him so furious all of a sudden?

  "Actually, I'll welcome a duenna," she said quietly, slightly subdued by his attack. "If for no other reason than to protect me from any further unwelcome advances from you."

  His eyes grew hooded, and she knew before he spoke that his anger would be gone, or well hidden.

  "No need to worry about me, Senorita Kincaid. I only kissed you to prove a point. Now maybe you'll think twice before teasing a man you hardly know. If not, one of these days you might find yourself in a very serious predicament. All men aren't as gentlemanly as I am."

  "You know," she answered furiously, "this is just what I'd expect from you—placing the blame for your own ill-mannered behavior on me!"

  The coach stopped in the driveway of her brother's house on Third Street, and without replying to her denouncement, Chase climbed out, then politely lifted her to the ground.

  "Sleep well, Senorita Kincaid. Our ship sails at noon."

  Carlisle gritted her teeth, raised her chin, and left him where he stood. She stalked to the front door, her full skirts bunched in her hands, her whole evening ruined by his boorish behavior and unkind accusations on the ride home. How on earth was she going to stand his irritating, chafing, disagreeable presence long enough to find out the information Javier Perez needed for his revolution?

  3

  Carlisle hadn't slept well. She'd only had a few hours of rest, and when she awoke, she'd discovered she was still angry with Chase Lancaster, her mind awhirl with thoughts of spying on him, not to mention her breathless reaction to his kiss.

  Her mood had only grown worse at breakfast. Tyler had been sitting at the table, and Carlisle had dashed into the dining parlor to find out about her wedding night, completely unaware that Chase Lancaster lurked unseen at the other end of the room.

  Chase had laughed at her, and Tyler had excused herself, obviously mortified to be discussing the subject at all. Then he'd offered to explain the secrets of the marriage bed to Carlisle, if she was so eager to know!

  Now, as she stood at the starboard railing of the Mayan several hours later, her face grew scarlet at the thought of it. Her fingers tightened around the smooth wood, and she was grateful for the winds that swept over the surface of the swirling, muddy waters of the Mississippi River, cooling her flaming cheeks. Chase Lancaster always managed to make her feel so young and foolish. She was beginning to look forward to spying on him.

  A quarter of an hour ago, she'd stood on the docks and said farewell to Gray and Tyler. Though she'd not expected it, she'd been very sad to leave them behind. For months she and Arantxa had planned ways to persuade Gray to allow her to go to Mexico. But when he'd hugged her and told her good-bye, she'd almost felt like crying.

  And Tyler had acted strange after spending her wedding night with Gray, tired but almost content. Apparently, Gray had said or done something in their bedchamber that had left a definite impact on his unwilling bride, which only made Carlisle more curious about exactly what did go on between a man and a woman. She'd wanted to question Tyler in more detail, but since Gray and Chase hovered around constantly, a private talk with her had been impossible.

  Chase Lancaster stood a few feet away from Carlisle now, deep in conversation with the dreary duenna he'd decided to inflict on her. No doubt he was giving the poor old woman all kinds of detailed orders designed expressly to make Carlisle's journey as miserable as possible.

  Senora Alvarez herself, however, did not seem particularly disagreeable. The elderly woman was stout and big-boned, and appeared to be about sixty. She'd been very polite when Chase had introduced her just after they'd boarded the ship. She was a widow who wore a staid black silk dress and lace mantilla, and obviously a devout Catholic, for a heavy silver crucifix hung around her neck. The shiny metal glinted brightly in the morning sun, and Carlisle sighed and leaned against the rail.

  Having a duenna would be a bore, but at least Carlisle could communicate with her.

  Senora Alvarez spoke the pure Castillian Spanish that both Chase and the Perez twins used, but she also knew enough English to carry on a conversation with Carlisle. Carlisle was eager to become fluent in Spanish and was making headway with Arantxa's help, but her friends had warned her that once in Mexico, she would find many different dialects used by the Indians and the mestizos, who were half Indian and half Spanish.

  She glanced again at Chase and Senora Alvarez, just as the duenna nodded vigorously, in complete agreement with some remark Chase had made. He had probably suggested locking Carlisle in her cabin for the whole trip, she thought sourly. Thank goodness the voyage would last only two days. Chase saw her watching and inclined his head politely. He'd been the personification of propriety since breakfast, and he certainly looked the part of an elegant, aristocratic diplomat in his dark blue coat and gray trousers, his bronze-colored hair ruffling in the breeze.

  Turning away, Carlisle relived his kiss and felt the shivers, flutters, and shudders all over again. Her breathless reaction to him made her feel foolish, and she'd asked herself a hundred times why she'd allowed it to happen. And why hadn't Javier's kiss made her feel the same way?

  Angry, she scanned the waterfront. Where were Arantxa and Javier anyway? Why didn't they come? They'd insisted she arrive on time, and now they were late! Suddenly a horrible thought struck her. What if they didn't show up? She was already stuck in a tiny, cratelike cabin with Senora Alvarez and her big crucifix. And even worse, if the Perezes didn't come, Chase Lancaster would be her only other traveling companion for the entire trip. Heaven forbid!

  Chase had paid her little attention since they'd bidden Gray and Tyler good-bye. Instead, he'd left her to her own devices while he conversed with Jose Martinez, the captain of the steamer, a small, placid-faced Mexican with a great head of unruly gray hair and bushy mustachios to match. Chase also seemed well acquainted with several other male passengers, all of whom treated him with a great deal of respect. Somehow Carlisle just couldn't picture him as an influential political figure. He was too young and conceited to be the foreign advisor to the President of Mexico.

  Perusing the passengers conversing around the deck, she wondered what they'd do if they knew she was planning to join the new revolution. She wondered what Chase would do, too. Despite the hot noonday sun, a shudder shook her. She wasn't sure if it was caused by fear of discovery or tingling excitement about being involved in a plot so dangerous. She'd taken few risks, had not been allowed to. All her life Gray had made her decisions for her.

  Now Chase Lancaster would take over where Gray had left off, and last night he'd made it clear he'd approach the job with the same enthusiasm as her brother. His voice had been so scornful when he'd told her what he thought of her that she'd begun to think she'd enjoy informing on him. He deserved no loyalty fro
m her. He was arrogant and insulting—and a cold-blooded killer, if Javier was right about San Miguel.

  Carlisle's eyes sharpened as she caught sight of the Mayan's launch pushing away from the bustling dock. She shielded her eyes against the glare off the water, watching as the longboat was rowed toward the ship. She waved when she recognized Arantxa's favorite flat-brimmed straw hat, the yellow ribbons fluttering. Javier was in the stern and he stood, hailing her with a wave of his arm, his shout echoing out over the river. Delighted, Carlisle lifted her lace-gloved hand and returned his greeting.

  Moving down the starboard railing to the landing platform, she waited at the boarding gate until the small craft bumped against the hull below her. Javier grabbed hold of the rope ladder and began to climb agilely while several of the rowers helped Arantxa into the boarding chair provided for female passengers. Carlisle laughed as Javier leapt onto the deck beside her, taking both her hands and smiling into her upturned face.

  "At last, Carlita, we'll be on our way—"

  A stout, black-draped figure barged between them, and Carlisle found her hands quickly snatched from Javier's grasp. Senora Alvarez's usual pleasant expression was gone, replaced by a stern, forbidding glare, directed solely at Javier.

  "Javier, this is Senora Alvarez," Carlisle said, a bit startled by the hostile way the widow was looking at him. "She's to be my duenna. Mr. Lancaster insisted. Senora Alvarez, this is Senor Javier Perez. We'll be visiting his family in Mexico City."

  "Senora Alvarez, I am honored," Javier said, bowing with the utmost courtesy. He began a rapid discourse in Castilian, which Carlisle could not begin to follow. He ended it in English, saying, "So forgive me, por favor. I meant no disrespect for Senorita Kincaid. Perhaps you would be so kind as to help me chaperone my sister, Arantxa, during our voyage to Matamoros. I have promised mi padre to look after her, but there was no suitable duenna available."