Tags:
Fiction,
adventure,
Romance,
Historical,
Adult,
Action,
Western,
San Francisco,
19th century,
wealthy,
BBW,
curvaceous,
older brother,
Charade,
dancing,
American West,
Vincente Siblings,
GOLDEN PARADISE,
Exploit,
Crystal Palace,
Profession,
Double Identity,
Veiled Jordanna,
Innocent Valentina,
Marquis Vincente
roadway.
Valentina was determined to find her father, and no one was going to stop her. She realized it was unconventional for a young woman to go off with a man with whom she was not acquainted, but she was desperate and had no choice. Besides, she reasoned, Doctor Cline must trust Santiago or he would not have recommended him to her. Valentina was aware that Prudence Lawton stared after them until they were out of sight.
"How long will it take to reach the mine, Santiago?" she asked, pushing all other thoughts from her mind.
"If the warm weather holds out and it does not rain, senorita, we will be at the mine late tomorrow afternoon. The last ten miles of the journey will be through rugged country. We will have to leave the buggy at a friend's hacienda and go on horseback." He looked at her questioningly. "Can you ride, senorita?"
"Yes, I can ride very well," she admitted, gazing at the clear golden sky. A flock of blue birds soared into the heavens, and a soft wind kissed her cheek. Now that they were leaving San Francisco behind, the land was an unspoiled paradise. Valentina felt a kinship with this land. Everything would be wonderful if only her mother would regain her health and she could locate her father alive.
Marquis Vincente and his grandfather reined in their horses at the corral to watch several vaqueros breaking wild horses. It was the first day in weeks that Don Alonso had felt well enough to ride horseback.
Out of the corner of his eye, the older man glanced at his grandson, wondering what went on in his mind. He had been silent and brooding lately. This was not the way he had expected Marquis to behave after learning his future wife was beautiful. Of course, he reasoned, Marquis was a handsome young man and had been spoiled by beautiful women all his life. Perhaps he was not looking forward to being tied down to just one woman. It was common knowledge that Marquis had a mistress in town and saw other women besides. The thing that worried his grandfather was the lack of interest Marquis had displayed toward his betrothed, Isabel Estrada.
"You are very different from me when I was your age, Marquis. I was so much in love with your grandmother that I gave up my mistress, insisting that the wedding take place two months sooner than was arranged."
Marquis smiled at his grandfather. "Yes, but my grandmother was an exceptional woman. All the men in the country were in love with her. Did you never question that she was the right woman for you, Grandfather?"
Don Alonso frowned. "No. But even if I had, I would have married her anyway. Once a Vincente has given his word, he never breaks it." The old man's eyes glittered with feeling. "Do you hear me? A Vincente never breaks his word, Marquis!"
Marquis stared into the distance. Was this what his life was going to be like? He could not picture himself rushing home to Isabel every night. She was beautiful— as an icicle was beautiful—and with about as much substance and warmth. Where was the woman who would touch his heart? Was he cold inside? Was his heart surrounded by ice also? Would he never feel really alive?
He drew in a resigned breath, smiling at the old grandee. "You do not need to worry, Grandfather. I will never break my word."
"Good, good. I want many great-grandsons to keep me company in my old age. You are the last of a proud line. I do not want to see the Vincente name die out."
Marquis tried to think of a baby coming from his and Isabel's union. He could not picture her as a mother— not the mother of his sons. "I do not love Isabel, Grandfather. I do not even like her."
"What has love or liking to do with anything? I admit that if love comes with marriage it is a good thing, but it isn't necessary."
Marquis gazed at the distant Sierra Mountains and felt a chill in his heart. Deep inside there was a part of him that wanted to know love—if the emotion really existed. So far he had found love to be a fabrication that singers
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