Stronger Than Passion Read Online Free PDF Page B

hers, and still denied her knowledge.
    Anger began to color her face. “I refuse to insult a - guest, in my home, by calling him a liar. But I’m sure my feelings must be perfectly clear.”
    That surprised him into laughter, laughter than accused her of hypocrisy. How dare he laugh at her, mock her?
    Her chin climbed upwards in unconscious arrogance and her eyes turned greener with scorn. She countered his ill-manners with the dignity she was born with. “It appears to me that your wound is nearly healed, Señor - and I am glad to know it, since - as you are aware - I intend to place you in the care of the Condé de Castillo. I am expecting him to arrive any day, and I advise you to prepare for a lengthy conversation. And I will warn you, he is not as patient as I. He will extract the truth from you one way or another. And, believe me, your freedom may depend upon your complete honesty.”
    Her threat delivered, too distracted by wrath and his presence to remain any further, she turned to withdraw.
    But unlike their first meeting two days ago, this time he remained thoughtfully silent as she walked out.
    *
    For the rest of that day, and all of the next, Christina commanded her world with only surface proficiency. As she gave instructions for the harvest of various vegetables, looked in on the fledgling estate school, ordered the repair of a cottage roof, reprimanded two field workers and a kitchen maid, sent the porter into Jalapa with a list of necessities to buy, and performed the dozens of other, smaller tasks that generally crowded her time . . . she found herself concentrating with appalling difficulty.
    In honesty, she could not blame Jim Malone for her distraction. He remained in bed in the pantry, recovering from his wound, and causing little trouble to anyone. Maria Juana even said that one of the maids, at least, had grown quite fond of him - a silly girl who probably had no business coming anywhere near him. Christina made a mental note to tell the housekeeper to keep Dorotea out of the sickroom.
    Yet the mystery of Jim Malone, and her own continuing, puzzling anger at him, stretched her emotions tautly. And to add to her frustrations was worry over what sort of threat was represented by the repeated, secretive appearance of the Indian. His second visitation, only yesterday, had been to a group of estate children, who had doubtless told him all the rumor and conjecture that he wished to know.
    Christina felt as though her previously well-planned life was being taken out of her control and jostled toward the unknown. She devoutly prayed that her father-in-law would arrive soon   .   .   .   tomorrow, in fact! And take responsibility for Malone. If not, she might feel compelled to send for Santa Anna, despite the busy activities he was no doubt engaged in, both political and military, and despite the renewed hope the general might read into her request for aid. Even though Santa Anna was now married, and to a very young girl, Christina had no reason to expect he would give up his attempts at flirtation with her. His devoted letters over her period of mourning had told her that. And she had even less desire now to listen than before. She could not bear one more problem.
    She lay down to sleep on the fourth night of Malone’s interruption of her life prepared at last for calm. Her decision was reached: If Don Ignacio did not arrive tomorrow, she would write to Santa Anna.
    Uneasy dreams still troubled her, though, even as she dozed. Dreams that merged into startling reality - as she awakened with the disorienting knowledge that someone was in her room.
    She could hear footsteps in the darkness, careful and heavy. Footsteps which were coming closer to her bed. Then the mattress she lay on sagged, and she knew the intruder must have caused it, and that the unbelievable was happening - someone was getting into her bed . . .
    The sudden, abject terror was countered by shock which froze her limbs for a second so