CHAPTER EIGHT
"Are you feeling all right, Señorita?" De Soto's voice broke through
Victoria's nightmarish thoughts and she reacted with a jerk, nearly toppling
the pitcher of lemonade with her hand.
"Yes, I am fine," she lied, turning away from the distressing sight of Diego
and his mistress. "Let me know if you need anything else, Alcalde."
She started to leave, but a gloved hand touched her wrist. Glancing down
then up, she saw an expression of concern on the commandante's face, and
softened her stance. "If you should need them, my shoulders are available
to cry on," he declared, a small smirk on his lips, dispelling any good-will
she might have had toward him.
Victoria snatched her arm away angrily. "I don't know what you mean," she
said hotly. "Enjoy your meal." With that, she spun around and marched back
into her tavern, growing even more irate as she heard de Soto chuckle behind
her.
Men are swine, she thought once again as she strode through the curtains
leading to her kitchen. Pulling out several pots and pans, she began slamming
them around, telling herself she was preparing for supper. Smacking down
a skillet on the table, she let out a yelp as a twinge shot through her hand.
Tears began to roll down her cheeks.
How could he? How could he. . .with that . . .that. . .strumpet. . . Dabbing
at her eyes, Victoria plopped down on a bench. She remembered the day Diego
had kissed her. It had been so unexpected, yet. . .it had felt so right.
Like he had kissed her before, although she knew he had never done so.
Other memories surfaced from that afternoon, Violetta kissing him on the
cheek, the jealousy she had tried to deny, Diego telling her he had needs
like any other man. Did that mean Zorro had those needs as well? He was definitely
a man. The idea he had other women had haunted her ever since the first time
the masked man had swept into her life. Madre de Dios, she felt sick
to her stomach, just making it to the back door before retching.
Z Z Z
Diego was getting restless. He and Violetta had looked at most of the wares
on display, which hadn't differed much from the last time they had attended
the market. Glancing around, he groaned as he saw his father and Señora
Gomez were chatting with Don Esteban and his wife, Doña Carmen, the
pueblo's two most notorious gossips. It was highly unlikely they would be
leaving the pueblo any time soon.
While he had been preoccupied, Violetta had steered him to a booth of cleverly
carved toys. She picked up a ball and cup and began trying to catch the ball
in the cup. Her first few attempts failed but she tried again and squealed
with laughter as the ball landed in the cup.
It felt as though a fist hit his stomach. She literally took his breath away
at that moment, laughing and looking so happy while playing with the toy.
Dios mio, he wasn't falling for her, was he? How could he? He loved
Victoria. Right? But she doesn't love you, the voice inside his head said.
She'll never love you.
Shaking his head to clear it of its traitorous thoughts, he watched as Violetta
picked up another toy, a little man whose arms and legs flailed about when
an attached string was pulled. He noticed a wistful smile on her face as
she played with it.
"You and your brother loved playing with those," her mother said as she and
Don Alejandro walked up beside them.
Violetta immediately set the little man back down on the makeshift table.
"It's just a silly toy," she said tightly.
An awkward moment passed before the elder de la Vega cleared his throat.
"I'm feeling thirsty," he declared. "Why don't we go over to the tavern for
some lemonade?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Emilia, a frown creasing her brow. "Señorita
Escalante might not. . ."
The old don waved his hand nonchalantly. "I am sure it will be fine," he
said. "Let's go."
Diego shook his head at his father's obliviousness, positive the lovely innkeeper
had not forgotten the reason she had tossed the two women out of her establishment.
Plastering a smile on his face, he offered his arm to Violetta.
Moments later, they had stepped onto the tavern's porch. "Perhaps we should
sit outside," suggested Diego. "It's such a beautiful day." Thankfully everyone
agreed and the men helped the ladies into their chairs.
Victoria came bustling out of the building then stopped in her tracks, narrowing
her eyes as she saw them sitting at the table. "Buenas dias," she said with
a grimace which was really quite terrifying.
"Four lemonades, por favor," the elder de la Vega requested.
She nodded tersely and went back inside. Señora Gomez placed her hand
on Don Alejandro's arm. "I think she is still upset with us. I don't even
really understand what took place that night, but it had something to do
with that outlaw, Zorro."
"It was just a misunderstanding, Mama," Violetta said. "The señorita
thought he was there to see me for some reason. Ridiculous, I don't know
why Zorro would want to meet me."
Victoria let them know of her return, flopping the tray she had been carrying
down onto the table, causing the lemonade to slosh out of the glasses. Diego
could see by her sullen countenance she had heard the other woman's comments.
Violetta reached for one of the cups before adding, "Zorro was quite the
gentleman, however. And even though most of his face was hidden by his mask,
I could tell he was very handsome. ‘Tis a pity he's a wanted criminal."
Diego thought he was going to have to keep Victoria from lunging for the
young widow's throat. He could almost see the smoke streaming out of her
ears. With a loud "huh", she spun on her heel and stomped back inside her
tavern. His father shrugged as he handed one of the glasses to Señora
Gomez before taking one for himself.
Reaching for the remaining cup, Diego eyed it with suspicion, wondering if
Victoria was spiteful enough to have spit in it. He glanced over at Violetta
who was serenely sipping her drink as if she hadn't a care in the world.
He had seen this vindictive side of her before, and he didn't like it. She
had made those remarks about Zorro to deliberately bait Victoria, and the
innkeeper had let the other woman goad her into a rage which had not been
pretty to witness.
It had to stop. He had to escape from the web of the sexual fascination she
had trapped him in, causing him to act out of character. Neglecting his studies,
Felipe, Toronado, everything he had cared about before she had wormed her
way into his bed.
It had to end. And by God, he would put a stop to it that very night.
Z Z Z
Diego rolled onto his back, his breathing harsh, before turning onto his
side and drawing Violetta into his arms. A move which had become a habit
without either of them noticing. She had slipped into his room when he hadn't
come to hers, and he had succumbed to her seduction with nary a qualm, the
vow he had made that afternoon shattering like glass.
She wiggled closer with a satisfied sigh and he tightened his hold. Why couldn't
he resist her? He hardly knew anything about her. Which reminded him. . .
"I didn't know you had a brother," he said as he ran his finger down the
length of her arm, then taking her hand in his.
Violetta immediately pulled away and started to get out of the bed, groping
about for her robe. "Wait," Diego pleaded, "don't leave. I'm sorry. I didn't
mean to upset you."
She sighed as she sank back down onto the mattress. "No, I'm sorry," she
said. "My brother died fighting the French about a year before Antonio died,"
"Oh, my condolences," he said sincerely.
"Gracias." She rolled over onto her side. "I miss him more than I
miss my husband. Does that make me a bad person?"
Diego was taken aback at her confession. "No, I don't think it does," he
replied after he had gathered his thoughts. "You obviously knew your brother
longer than. . .Antonio," he said, reluctant to bring up his old friend's
name after he had just had relations with his widow. "Of course you would
miss him more." He stroked her hair away from her face. "My mother died when
I was twelve and I miss her every day. But I think I would miss my father
more if something were to happen to him, God forbid."
"That makes me feel better," she said, twining her arms behind his neck.
"But I can think of something that would make me feel even happier."
She brought her lips to his, bringing their conversation to an end. Diego
landed on his back once again as she straddled him and their bodies began
communicating without words.
Z Z Z
"This came for you, Patrón." Maria, the housekeeper, said as
she handed an envelope to Diego.
His heart skipped a beat. His name was written on the outside, in the same
scrawling handwriting as the letter which had been addressed to Zorro. Madre
de Dios. "Wait," he called out as she started to leave. "How was this
delivered?"
"One of the boys from the pueblo," she replied. "I believe his name is Juanito,
the blacksmith's son." Diego nodded, as he was familiar with many of the
young lads who loved to run errands and deliver messages.
"Will that be all?" asked the housekeeper, impatience creeping into her voice.
"What. . .? Yes, of course. Gracias."
Diego waited until she had disappeared before glancing down at the missive
in his hand. He battled a minute or two between fear and curiosity before
the latter won out and he tore it open.
'I know what you are doing. There will be consequences.' Two sentences
this time, unsigned once again. But just as cryptic and threatening.
What did it mean? He did a lot of things. But there were only two which would
result in dire consequences if they were revealed.
Felipe was the only person who knew he was Zorro and that he was having an
affair with Violetta. Well, she knew, but she would hardly blackmail herself.
If this was indeed blackmail. Which it certainly appeared to be.
Maldita sea. Maybe she was behind all of this. He only had her word
the first letter was from her husband. She could be lying. But. . . It was
naive of him, but they had begun to open up to each other, although their
confidences were brief, compared to the physical side of their liaison. And
as much as he hated to admit it, he was beginning to trust her. And he hated
to admit somewhere deep inside him, he was starting to have feelings for
her. Feelings he pretended not to feel. Feelings which made him question
his love for Victoria.
He looked down and saw he had crumpled the paper in his fist. His life was
veering out of control and he had no idea how to steer himself back on course.
Although, if he wanted to be honest, his life had been out of his control
from the first moment he put on the black silk mask.
Maybe that was the answer. Maybe he needed to tear away all the masks he
had been hiding behind and expose the true man beneath. Or maybe. . .maybe
he just needed to visit Victoria, to remind himself of the reasons why he
loved her. He had been avoiding her of late, both as Diego and his alter
ego. The guilt and shame which rose like bile in his throat every time he
saw her. . .well, it was easier to not see her.
But before he went anywhere, he needed to see a sample of Violetta's handwriting,
if only to eliminate her as a suspect. He just had to figure out how to go
about obtaining one.
Z Z Z
Miraculously, his chance came that very afternoon when Violetta and her mother
approached him in the library, where he had been pretending to read a book
on animal husbandry. He set aside the volume as he rose to his feet.
"I was hoping you could take these to town for us, Diego," said Señora
Gomez, holding out a handful of letters. "I would ask Alejandro but he's
busy doing something out in the stables." Which was one way to describe overseeing
the shoeing of the yearling horses, he supposed.
"Of course." He accepted the envelopes the older woman proffered. "I would
be delighted." He turned to Violetta. "Perhaps you would like to accompany
me?"
"Gracias, but no," she said. "I have a pounding headache. I'm going
to take a nap. I've been having trouble sleeping at night." She gave him
a saucy wink he hoped her mother hadn't seen.
"Oh, thank you, Diego," Emilia said. "I haven't written to my sister for
a fortnight and she gets frantic if she doesn't get a letter from me every
week. Alejandro said the mail coach goes out today and I didn't want to miss
it."
The two women left and Diego shuffled through the missives, noticing although
their handwriting was similar, there were differences. And neither matched
the scrawl of the message he had received that morning.
So Violetta was not his mysterious correspondent. Gracias a Dios.
But he was still left with questions. Mainly who was writing the letters
and what exactly did they want?
Z Z Z
Much later that night, he made his second trip to the pueblo, only this time
he was dressed head to toe in black and would remain hidden in the shadows
as he sneaked around to the rear of the tavern. The windows of two upstairs
rooms were aglow, and he could see light streaming out from the cracks of
the back door.
Within seconds, he was standing in the kitchen, watching as Victoria pumped
more water into the sink of dirty dishes. She spun around in a manner which
made him swear she had a special intuition whenever he was near.
"Zorro! What are you doing here?" she asked with a catch in her voice. She
looked so beautiful but her smile was tremulous and her dark eyes contained
a hint of sadness. Guilt racked his body, and he ducked his head, taking
a deep breath before he approached her.
"I came to see you, querida." He took her hand in his and brought
it to his lips. Feeling her tremble beneath his kiss, he lost all of his
composure. "I. . .It. . .It has been too long. . .I should have. . ."
"I understand," she said as his excuses trailed off. "It's been quiet of
late. I have missed you though."
"As I you," he returned automatically, even though it was mostly a lie. He
had been deliberately blocking thoughts of her from his mind when he was
with Violetta. He didn't always succeed though and the shame of the situation
rose in him again.
She gazed up at him expectantly, but the usual glib words refused to materialize.
Bringing his hand up to touch her face, he caressed her cheek before lowering
his mouth to hers. She melted against him, returning the kiss with a fervor
which had always kept him off kilter.
"Señorita Escalante, if I might trouble you for. . ." Zorro tore his
lips away as a man stopped speaking as he entered the kitchen. The shocked
expression on the other man's face had to be a mirror of his own.
Domingo Maldonado. His old university rival. Here in Los Angeles.
Dios mio, so this was what it felt like to have your whole world explode.