“Say something, Vincent. Speak up, my boy.”
“What—what are you trying to do, Caralee? How can you possibly marry this—”
“The marriage will take place on Sunday,” Ramon put in coldly, his tall, hard body radiating with barely leashed fury. “Under the circumstances, I am sure Padre Xavier will waive the bans.” By now the Montoyas had arrived. They were wealthy and powerful, one of the last few Californio families in a strong position of influence. Her uncle sagged at the sight of them, knowing he couldn’t refuse Ramon’s proposal without also insulting them.
Carly knew she had won.
“I will speak to the priest tomorrow,” the don said curtly, his dark eyes still glinting with fire and a promise of retribution that sent shivers down Carly’s spine. She hadn’t seen that look since the morning after the raid when she’d awakened to the sight of his tall, black boots. She brushed the unsettling notion away. Once she explained, Ramon would understand.
“Caralee?” Vincent turned pleading hazel eyes in her direction, their depths still clouded with disbelief. “Are you really going to marry this—”
“I’m afraid so, Vincent.” She smiled at him even more sweetly. “After all, it’s the only decent thing to do.”
CHAPTERTWELVE
Had it only been three days? It seemed like a lifetime—and it seemed only minutes. Uncle Fletcher had ranted and raved and forbidden her to leave the house, but Carly hadn’t relented. Vincent and his father had returned to San Francisco, the younger Bannister even more furious than Ramon had been.
Everyone was mad at her, but Carly didn’t care.
Once again she was fighting for her life.
She glanced out her bedroom window. Flat, gray clouds threatened rain, and a stiff wind whipped through the heavy branches of the towering oak trees surrounding the house. Absently she wondered when the storm would arrive and whether it would slow their morning’s journey.
They were leaving within the hour, traveling into town, meeting Ramon this afternoon at the mission. Today she would be married.
Well, sort of married.
Standing in front of the cheval glass mirror, Carly surveyed her image. She had chosen a gown of pearl gray silk, high-necked and long-sleeved with tiny tucks down the front, and a row of small pearl buttons. There were bands of magenta around the skirt, and the waist-length matching cape was lined with magenta silk.
She loved this dress. It was simple yet beautiful. She felt good when she wore it and she needed to feel good today. She needed all the confidence she could get.
Carly shivered, but she wasn’t cold.
She had hoped to speak to Ramon before the day of the wedding. She was sure he would help her, once he understood it would only be a marriage of convenience. And only for a few short months.
Unfortunately, her uncle had forbidden her to see him. Now she would have to face those furious dark eyes, try not to wither at the hard set of his jaw. He wanted a wife of pure Spanish blood, not some poor half-Irish mongrel from a Pennsylvania mine patch. Ramon would believe she had trapped him into an unwanted marriage and on the surface it was true.
“You are ready, Senorita McConnell?” Candelaria stood by the door.
“Almost. I just have to put on my bonnet.” She scooped it off of the bed, but the younger girl caught her arm.
“Perhaps instead you will wear this.” She held up a beautiful white lacemantilla.“It was my mother’s. I would like you to have it. And I believe it would please Don Ramon.”
Carly’s fingers closed over the fine Spanish lace and a hard lump swelled in her throat. At least she had made one friend. “It’s beautiful, Candelaria. I’d love to wear it.” Her uncle wouldn’t like it, but perhaps Ramon would approve.
Or perhaps it would only remind him of the true Spanish woman he wished to wed.
A painful knot tightened inside her, a foolish sort of ache she shouldn’t have felt. It settled in her stomach, brought an ache to her chest. Carly forced herself to ignore it. She had done what she had to. In time Ramon would be free to marry whatever woman he might wish.
She forced herself to smile and raised themantillaabove her head.
“Here… you will also need this.” The younger girl held out a tall, carved tortoiseshell comb. “You can return it to me later.” Staking the comb into Carly’s hair, she draped the beautiful laceover Carly’s head and shoulders, then stepped back to survey her work and flashed a satisfied smile.
“Now you look like a Californio bride.”
“Thank you, Candelaria. It’s a beautiful wedding present.” Swallowing past the ache in her throat, Carly left the bedroom and walked down the hall to the huge high-ceilinged room where her uncle stood waiting.
He took in her appearance and clamped hard on his jaw. “I see you’re already learning the part.”
