Read Online San Antonio Rose (Historical Romance) by Constance O'Banyon - Free Book Online Page B

soldier grinned. "I am told that the president is baffled by her because she keeps him
dangling. I am also told that her tent is next to
his. Of course, I do not know if this is so."
    "I doubt she keeps him dangling," Ian muttered under his breath.
    "Look, amigo, see where they have erected a
stage for her. Hurry! hurry! We must get closer
so we can see her dance."
    Torchlight flickered across the hastily constructed stage while five mariachis strummed a
plaintive tune on their guitars. Hundreds of
soldiers of all ranks crowded into the limited
space; some even perched in trees so they
could watch the San Antonio Rose perform.
    Ian was some distance away, leaning against
a tree, his arms folded across his chest. His
gaze settled on Santa Anna, who was seated
next to the stage, and revulsion churned
through his stomach as he thought of the man
putting his hands on Emerada.
    Ian elbowed his way forward while men
grumbled and cursed at him. Soon he was near
enough to see the stage better. He had been prepared for her appearance, but when Emerada stepped onto the stage, his breath caught
in his throat.

    She shimmered like a delicate jewel in an
emerald green, tiered gown. At first she just
stood there while the crowd went wild with
adoration-they called out to her, and Ian even
saw that the man next to him was crying.
    She tapped one foot in time with the music.
Then her arms arched gracefully above her
head, weaving and intertwining. The music became more intense, and as she arched her
back, the look on her face was that of a matador stepping into the bullring. She was drawing emotions from the crowd, making them fall
in love with her. In that moment, any man present would have died for her-all but one, Ian
McCain. His mouth twisted in scorn. She used
her beauty and art like a weapon, and it angered him.
    His gaze was riveted on her, and he realized
that she would never betray people who worshiped her as these did. Houston was the fool if
he thought she would betray Santa Anna for
him. It was Houston who was her target. Ian
knew that he must somehow get into her tent
tonight, capture her, and find a way to spirit
her away.
    He would make her face Houston with the
truth.
    While everyone else was watching Emerada
dance, Ian inched his way toward the Mexican presidents headquarters. He was certain no
one noticed when he slipped out of the tight
circle and ducked down behind one of the
silken tents.

    Emerada was restless, tossing and turning on
the silken sheets that had come from Santa
Anna's own trunks. He had ordered that her
tent be set up next to his and that it be furnished as grandly as his own.
    She plumped her pillow and tried to find a
comfortable position. They were within a day's
march of San Antonio de Bexar, where Santa
Anna had said they would engage the enemy.
She knew in her heart that if her father had
lived, he and her brothers would be fighting
with the Americans, as were many of her people.
    Emerada was uncomfortable sleeping on silk
sheets and had the inclination to rip them off
her bed and sleep on the bare mattress.
    She heard a noise at the back of her tent and
raised herself up on her elbow, staring into the
darkness.
    It was nothing, she told herself. Perhaps the
wind.
    Domingo had placed his own bedroll at the
front of her tent, so no one, not even Santa
Anna himself, could get past him.
    With a sigh, she closed her eyes, wishing she
could sleep. She was in the wolfs lair, and
every covert action she made might mean her death. She had overplayed her hand in seeking
Santa Anna's affection. He was becoming as
troublesome as a lovesick youth with his first
love. She didn't know how long she could keep
him at arms length. But she was committed to
his destruction, and she would do whatever she
must to bring that about.

    Her mind turned to Ian McCain, and she resented the fact that he occupied more and
more of her thoughts. Her instincts told her