Midnight Rider. Diana Palmer
retired army officer in San Antonio. Mrs. Carlisle was staying with friends in Valladolid for several weeks and she was overjoyed to help Mr. Barron plan his grand fete.
She knew exactly how to go about organizing things on a monumental scale, and she set to work at once. Two weeks later, she’d alienated half the staff on the Barron ranch. This didn’t bother Colston one bit. But Bernadette was overwhelmed with complaints. Everyone including Maria cried on her shoulder while the painstaking arrangements were made. There was a bakery to cater the confections, a local cook to cater the finger foods for the hors d’oeuvre table and flowers purchased from a greenhouse. No detail was overlooked or left undone. Bernadette did her best to stay out of the way of the ongoing madness.
She put on her riding skirt and had the stable boy saddle her pretty bay mare for her. She’d just mounted when her father came into the barn.
“And where are you going?” he demanded. “Mrs. Carlisle needs you to talk to Maria about the dinnerware.”
“Why?” she asked with some surprise.
“Maria’s suddenly forgotten how to speak English, that’s why!”
Silently, Bernadette applauded her friend’s initiative. That was one way to get around Mrs. Carlisle. “You know I don’t speak Spanish,” she lied without meeting his eyes. Actually, she’d kept her knowledge of that tongue a secret from her father as well as Eduardo, because it gave her a definite advantage when dealing with her father. She could talk to the staff in their own language whenever she liked. He couldn’t. He spoke only Gaelic and English.
“You could convince Maria at least to talk to the poor woman!”
“I’m going riding, Father,” she said. “I must get some fresh air in my lungs.”
He glared at her with suspicion. “You’re running away. It won’t do any good. Klaus Branner and Carlo Maretti are due here tomorrow on the train from Houston.”
Her heart jumped and she felt suddenly sick. “I’ve told you how I feel about this,” she said stiffly.
“And I’ve told you how I feel,” he said narrowly. “Eduardo hasn’t been near the place in two weeks,” he added, and refused to let her know how that worried him. He didn’t think much of her abilities to attract Europeans, but Eduardo had this way of looking at her just recently. He liked Eduardo, too, and respected him. It would have been the ideal match. He wondered why Eduardo had apparently changed his mind after their discussion. “It seems that he’s no longer in the running, my girl, so it’s my two candidates or else.”
What he said was true. Eduardo hadn’t come to call, which was very unusual for him, and Bernadette had worried herself sick about the reasons. It was impossible to invite herself to his ranch, so she waited in vain for him and watched her dreams disintegrate. She knew that without the hope of Eduardo as a suitor, her father would turn quickly to his other two candidates. As he had.
Bernadette stared down at him with a drawn face. “Maybe they won’t want me,” she said daringly.
“They’ll want you,” he replied tersely. “Because they want my money!”
She made one last attempt to reason with him. “Don’t you care if I’m happy or not, Father?” she asked miserably. “Don’t you care at all?”
His face closed up, went tight and hard. “I’m not happy,” he pointed out. “I’ve been alone and miserable for twenty years because of you!”
Her features contorted. “You aren’t blameless!”
He looked as if he might explode. “How dare you speak to me in such a way!” he blustered. “How dare you!”
Her lower lip trembled. She gripped her riding crop more firmly, until her knuckles went white. “I hope I never live long enough to treat a child of mine the way you’ve treated me,” she said huskily. “And I hope you live long enough to be sorry for it.”
He pulled himself up to his full height and glared at her. “That day will never come.”
She turned her horse and rode away, leaving him standing alone.
She couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so low and desperate. Eduardo was out of her reach, and her father’s candidates were to arrive the following day. She wondered if she could run away without being caught. It was a poor way to cope, but she knew that other young women in similar predicaments had done such things. If all else failed, it was one workable solution, even if her precarious state of health made it impractical.
* * *
SHE WAS DEEP IN THOUGHT, without any real idea of where she was going. This area of south Texas was mostly scrub brush and cacti, sand and dust and heat, even in the spring. But she loved the sense of freedom it gave her with all that long empty horizon in front of her. It was like looking at the stars at night; it made her little problems seem very insignificant. Right now, she needed that most of all. The imminent arrival of two titled Europeans made her sick to her stomach. Perhaps they wouldn’t like her. But if they needed money badly enough, they’d probably be willing to marry a scarecrow, a cow, anyone. Even her.
She guided the little mare toward the stream that crossed her father’s land. There were a few willow trees there, along with mesquite and some poplars. The leaves were the soft, pale green of new growth, and there was a breeze. It wasn’t as smoldering hot as it usually was, either. She dismounted under a big mesquite tree and tossed her flat-brimmed hat to one side as she bent to wet her handkerchief in the stream.
Birds called overhead and she wondered at their sudden burst of noise just as she heard hoofbeats approaching.
She turned, moving closer to her mount. It was a lonely place, and there were often bandits about. But as the rider approached, she recognized him at once and sighed with relief. As usual, a thrill of sheer joy went stabbing through her at the sight of him. He sat a horse like a soldier, very straight and proud, and she loved just looking at him.
“What are you doing out here alone?” Eduardo called curtly as he drew close.
His words breaking the spell she seemed to be under, she smiled ruefully. “I’m escaping Mrs. Carlisle.”
His eyebrows arched under the wide brim of his hat and he smiled. “Mrs. Carlisle?”
“She’s organizing the grand ball,” she informed him. “I’m trying to stay out of her way. So is everybody else. The whole staff may resign any minute now.”
“Shouldn’t your out-of-town guests be arriving soon?”
“My father’s handpicked matrimonial candidates arrive tomorrow,” she said with undisguised revulsion. “One’s German, the other’s Italian.”
“He invited them, then,” he murmured under his breath. This was a surprise. Colston Barron hadn’t seemed interested in other candidates for Bernadette’s dowry the last time he’d spoken with the man. Of course, he’d avoided the place like the plague since then. Guilt had kept him away; it disturbed him to think of using Bernadette for his own ends. He was ashamed of himself, of his less than noble motive, wooing a woman he didn’t love for the sake of financial gain. It was dishonest at best, and he was too honorable not to be suffering from a bad conscience.
“Of course he invited them,” Bernadette replied. She glanced at him sadly, with faint accusation. “You’re not one of his prospective hopefuls, by the way, in case you were wondering. That should be of some comfort to you.”
He pulled a cigar case from his shirt pocket and extracted one of the Cuban cigars he favored. He produced a small box of matches and lit it before he spoke. “I see.”
She wondered why he should suddenly look so thoughtful, so tense. He turned away and she studied his profile. Could he be upset because he wasn’t a candidate for her hand? She didn’t dare hope so. But what if he was?
He felt her avid gaze and turned to meet it. She colored prettily. “How