The Tender Vine (Diamond of the Rockies #3)(91)

“You are the death of me.” He pulled her out onto the balcony. Had he maneuvered them across the floor to do so?

“Please, Flavio, try to understand.”

He caught her face between his hands and kissed her with all the ardor and arrogance in him. Carina struggled. How dare he make a spectacle of her? Or was that his intention? Was Quillan in the plaza? She strained to see, but Flavio would not release her. He pinned her to the railing, his mouth stopping her breath.

She pressed her fists against him, but he wouldn’t stop the kiss. She kicked him as hard as she could through her skirts. He staggered back holding his leg. Her breath came in gasps as she searched the plaza in the dark. She could not see far, but she was certain she could be seen in the festive lights.

Was Quillan out there? Then Flavio grabbed her arms. “You can fight all you want, but I will win. I have everyone with me.”

“Why?”

He smiled a slow, melancholy smile and moved in to kiss her again.

She shoved him back. “I am a married woman.”

“Sham marriage. Sham husband. And soon you will be a widow.”

Her spine went cold. “That’s how you win my love?”

“I already have your love. I always have.”

She glowered. “Once maybe. But you disdained it.”

“I guarded and protected it, waiting for you to grow up.”

“Beh!” She expelled her breath with the gesture from her chin. “You did no waiting at all.”

He closed in, catching her waist between his hands. “I waited for you. Do you think I could not have had you if I wanted? You were butter in my hands. If I had once tried, you would have surrendered, just as the others.”

She flushed with anger. Did Papa know? Did Papa approve?

“But you I kept sacred. You, I would marry.”

“For that I should be grateful?” His face was so close now she turned hers to the side.

“You will be grateful. You will thank me for the rest of your life.”

“I will not.”

His lips touched her neck. She stiffened. “If you don’t let go this minute I will scream.” Would Quillan come to her defense? Was he out there now, thinking she invited this amorous attack? She pictured Quillan the avenger. What would happen to him if he threatened Flavio now?

But Flavio drew back. “Play your games, Carina. It only makes my victory sweeter.”

She didn’t answer. Anything she might say would only draw his ire back to Quillan. With a supremely haughty smile, he held out his arm. She fought the revulsion as she slipped her hand into it. The dancing inside was gay and lively as ever. Would Flavio push for another time with her on the dance floor?

But he bowed slightly and released her arm. “Grazie, tesora mia. I will dream of your kiss tonight.”

Instinctively her fingers went to her lips. He laughed, winked, and left her.

Omaccio! Cialtrone! All the names she had called Quillan when he was none of that rushed to her mind. She had to get out. She searched the room for her papa and found him in conversation with General Vallejo, the Mexican official welcomed as one of them. His pleasant face and lamb-chop whiskers nodded to Papa’s comment.

She drew herself up and approached them. “Forgive me, Papa, General.” She bowed her head to them in turn. “Papa, I’m not feeling well. I want to go home.”

His physician’s eye assessed her, no doubt seeing the flushed cheeks and quickened pulse. “Take some air, Carina. You’re overheated.”

“I am not overheated, Papa. I want to go home.”

How Papa’s Roman nose nudged upward when he was challenged. “The evening is cool. Stand a minute on the balcony.”

She turned with a huff. She’d had quite enough of the balcony!

“A spirited young woman.” The general said behind her.

“My little tigre,” Papa answered.

For a moment Carina wished she had claws to slice them both. Bene. If they would not take her home, she would take herself. Not immediately, when Papa’s eyes would be on her. But at the first opportunity.

When Papa’s attention was caught by a new soloist, a soprano in satin and feathers, Carina slipped out the door of the hall and hurried down the stairs. Let them miss her. She was leaving.

Stepping out into the night, she considered going to Quillan. She could not see him among those lingering around the pavilion. He must have gone to his room. She was at once relieved and disappointed. At least he would not have seen her with Flavio.

She looked toward the Union Hotel. No, if Papa sent a contingent after her, it would not be healthy for Quillan. She had no doubt Papa knew where Quillan stayed. His connections were deep.

She started toward home, holding her skirts slightly raised, though the train would be ruined. What did she care? There was a light inside Schocken’s store. Could it be Quillan so late? She stopped outside the window and looked between the crack of the blinds. She just caught a glimpse of Solomon Schocken at his desk. Her heart sank.

She passed the Chinese laundry and started along the lane between it and the Swiss bakery. A sweet smell caught her nose as she neared the rear of the building. Three Chinese men sat in the darkness, smoke curling around their heads and the strange long pipes they smoked. Opium. She knew the odor now. They looked at her with half-dazed eyes as she hurried past.