The Spanish Outlaw Read online

  His long legs ate up the space across the carpet as he swiped fingers through his thick, black hair. Back and forth, he paced like a caged animal.

  “Hijo lo...” he snapped, leaving off the last bit.

  His actions erased all doubt from her mind, placing victory within reach. Yet, his temper frightened her. The opera singer she’d conversed with for the past hour was nothing like the irate man he’d suddenly become. Even when he threatened her before, he’d never appeared this menacing.

  As her heart hammered against her ribs, she swallowed a knot of fear and forced herself to stay strong. What other choice did she have? Glancing at her friend, she prayed Margaret would soon regain consciousness and be the supporting partner Vivian expected.

  Anton abruptly stopped in front of her. Vivian soon forgot about Margaret and focused on him.

  “Does Mr. Pinkerton know of your suspicions?” he snapped.

  “Of course,” she lied. She couldn’t let Anton know she was here on her own free will.

  “Dios Mio!” He grasped her arms. “What did you tell him?”

  She hitched a breath, but not from Anton’s closeness this time. The steely look in his deep brown eyes made her shudder. “I told him I thought our thief was the opera singer.”

  “Did he believe you?”

  “He doesn’t believe anything unless he sees tangible proof first.” Especially when it comes to female agents, she reminded herself bitterly.

  A heavy sigh escaped between his teeth, and he loosened his hold. Lines in his face relaxed, nearly disappearing. The drastic changes of his mood confused her. What was he hiding...and could she gain his trust enough to expose his deep, dark secrets?

  “Anton.” She kept her voice steady. “Although I think you’re a wonderful singer and performer, your days of glory are going to end. Taking your uncle’s jewels was wrong, and you must be punished.”

  When a smile touched his tempting mouth, uncertainty overwhelmed her. Why would he appear happy so soon after his little fit of temper?

  His hard chest moved noticeably with each deep breath. “Vivian, mí dulce, I am sorry to tell you, but you have been misinformed.” He shook his head. “Actually, you have been lied to.”

  She lifted her chin. “Explain yourself.”

  “You think you have captured the thief, but I am not that person. My name is Antonio Rico Romero Vasquez.” He stroked her chin. “But I did not steal my uncle’s jewels.”

  Tingles warmed her skin from where his fingers stroked, and she pushed aside the feeling. Emotions had no place in getting to the bottom of this case.

  “Then why is your uncle looking for you?” She gave Anton an accusatory stare.

  “Because he wants me dead so he can inherit my father’s island.”

  She arched a brow, finding his story as false as his plea of innocence. He assumed she’d believe anything he said. Not this time—and certainly not this woman! Gullibility was not her weakness.

  “I still don’t understand. You are the illegitimate son of an heir, and in that case, the inheritance is passed to the next living male carrying on the Romero name.”

  He nodded. “I am aware how it is passed, but my uncle is not the rightful heir. I am. My uncle has told so many lies you have no other choice but to believe him.”

  She wanted to laugh out loud. Instead, she decided to pummel him with questions until he slipped and gave himself away. “So, you say your uncle lied to my employer? What kind of proof do you have?”

  He shook his head. “You are certainly a detective, Vivian. Your mind is positioned on the guilty, not the innocent.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “That means you believe everything you are told to be the truth. You believe the lies Juanito Romero Ballí has told without allowing any possibility for doubt.” Anton folded his arms across his muscular chest. “Tell me, Vivian. Did my uncle show you anything to corroborate his story?”

  She scowled. “No.”

  “Then why do you believe him over me?”

  A dull throb knocked against the inside of her skull as doubt filled her mind again. Hoping to bring a little relief, she massaged the pain. Anton had a point. Then again, what if he came from a family of professional sweet-talkers?

  He cupped her chin again, forcing her to meet his warm gaze. “Tell me what I can do to make you believe me.”

  Just like before, his nearness created greater confusion, while his gentle touch clouded her mind. “If you’re not guilty, then why did your uncle go through so much trouble to find you if you were the rightful heir? He’d know the Pinkerton agents would eventually discover the truth.”

  Anton turned away from her, strode to the fire and with the poker, separated the broken logs. “Juanito Ballí is very crafty. Power and money are what he kills for, and he will continue to take lives as long as it gets him what he is after. I am certain during my absence he has erased any evidence of my identity. He has been acting as king of the island for so long he does not want to relinquish the title. Besides, not many people know I survived the war.” Anton glanced over his shoulder at her. “You see, I have something my uncle needs in order to collect my inheritance.”

  “What is that?”

  After he returned the poker, he moved away. In the past, whenever Anton’s gaze drifted over her, trickles of delight danced on her skin, but this time he tilted his head and studied her with a judgmental stare that made her want to squirm.

  He shook his head. “I do not think I will trust you with that information.”

  Anger sparked inside her. How dare he try to turn the tables on her! He was the guilty one, and she the soon-to-be detective. Yet...she also needed to gain the trust she didn’t have. Any good agent knew that, and any smart detective would do all they could to reach their goal, which is what she must do.

  “Why can you not trust me?” she asked. “I’m willing to give you a chance to prove your innocence.”

  He lifted his dark brows. “Indeed?”

  Through her lie, she tried to keep a serious expression. She wasn’t ready to believe him. Still, too many holes lay uncovered in his story, especially about his illegitimacy. “Yes.”

  “Show me.”

  She inhaled sharply. “How?”

  During Anton’s silence, Vivian’s fierce heartbeat knocked harder with every second that passed. Although she wanted to believe, there was still that matter of proving her worth to Mr. Pinkerton. With so many doubts lingering, she had no other choice but to string Anton along. For now, she’d pretend to be on his side until she held the tangible proof of his guilt, then she’d turn him over to her employer and Juanito Ballí.

  Anton’s finger smoothed over his mustache, drawing her attention to his lips, the very same heavenly pair she’d kissed not too long ago. She scolded her wayward thoughts.

  “Lie to your employer,” he said. “Tell him you have found me, but give a different location. Tell him to inform my uncle of my whereabouts and to meet you there.” He paused. “And I will wager my uncle’s men will arrive earlier and try to kill me.”

  She chuckled. “That won’t work, because Mr. Pinkerton will be there, also.”

  “Juanito Ballí and his men will be there to kill me long before your employer arrives.” He stepped closer, and his masculine scent of spice enveloped her. He circled her waist with his arms and pulled her to his solid chest.

  She rested her hands on the lapels of his gold vest and stared up into his intoxicating chocolate eyes. It was going to be hard to pretend to believe him...to let him touch her and allow his affection. But she had to. How else could he start to have faith in her?

  “My sweet Vivian. If you want me to prove my innocence, do this one thing for me. That is all I ask.” His expression relaxed as his gaze pleaded with her. “Please. One more day is all I need to prove to you my uncle is trying to kill me.”

  Curse his irresistible, hypnotic eyes. She didn’t know how any woman could resist him, because s
he definitely couldn’t when he gazed at her like this. But she must. Determination flowed through her, and she vowed she’d be strong...as long as she didn’t look at him or let him touch her.

  This case proved to be harder than she’d expected.

  Chapter Three

  Anton tightened his arms around Vivian, the quick rhythm of her heart pounding against his chest. When uncertainty flickered in her eyes, he held his breath and waited for her answer. A smile touched her lips, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  He couldn’t allow her to turn him in. Having her take him to his uncle would mean death for both of them. It was bad enough to put himself in harm’s way, but he couldn’t do that to Vivian. She didn’t deserve such a fate.

  “Anton, you’re a hard man to resist, and although I’m going against my better judgment, I’ll agree to give you one more day.”

  His heart raced with excitement. With her help to prove his uncle’s deceitfulness, maybe Anton could bring an end to the pain and suffering of the people on Padre Island caused by Juanito’s hand.

  “Gracias, mí dulce,” he murmured, then lowered his lips to seal the bargain.

  Her eyes closed, and her head fell back, allowing his lips to pay homage to hers as he kept the kiss gentle. She slid her hands up his neck and threaded her fingers through the hair at his nape, daring him to try to pull away.

  Her jasmine scent enclosed around him in a flowery haven. Without being able to stop it, he released a soft moan from his throat and pulled her closer. Her passion surprised him, but he welcomed the cooperation. In the days ahead, he’d need it to prove his innocence.

  He broke the kiss and buried his face in the sweet curve of her neck, trying to calm his irregular breathing. “Curse you, woman. You certainly know how to twist emotions inside of me,” he whispered against her silky throat.

  She drew back from him, her forehead creased. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you are so hard to resist even as hard as I try to fight them away.”

  A brilliant smile touched her mouth. “Then we’re evenly matched, because I have the same confusing emotions flitting through me.”

  He chuckled and gathered her close, ready to kiss her again, but a thundering knock on the door startled him.

  “Anton, I must speak to you,” came the urgent voice of his friend.

  He placed a quick kiss on Vivian’s lips before stepping to the door and opening it.

  His servant hurried in and closed the door. “Forgive my intrusion, but several minutes ago, three Spaniards presented forged invitations and tried to enter the party.”

  Fear crept into Anton’s heart, tightening his chest. “Are you certain?”

  “Sí.”

  “Did they ask for anyone in particular?”

  “They wanted to meet the main performers, but mentioned your name in particular. I suspect they are the men sent by your uncle.”

  “Did anyone at the party recognize them?”

  “The few guests remaining in the dining room denied their acquaintance.”

  “Dios Mio!” Anton pushed his fingers through his hair. “Where are they now?”

  “Out front by the trees.”

  Anton released a heavy sigh. “I need to leave without drawing attention to myself. But how?”

  “We will disguise you.”

  Anton chuckled, even if humor was not his first emotion. Although he’d been in the opera for many months, he didn’t have any other clothes with him but the ones on his back. If they were on stage, he’d have several outfits in one of the side rooms.

  “With what costume?” He motioned his hand across his body. “This is all I have with me.”

  Pedro looked over Anton’s shoulder to the couch behind him and grinned. He jerked his thumb in that direction. “I have the perfect attire for your escape.”

  Anton swung around to see what his friend had in mind. Vivian’s companion remained slumped on the couch with her head tilted back and soft snores fluttering her lips. Anton groaned and shook his head. “Surely you jest,” he mumbled as he and Pedro hurried to the couch.

  Vivian rushed to stand by his side and clasped his arm. “What is going on?”

  “Remember when I told you about my dangerous uncle?”

  “Yes.”

  “I do not know how, but it looks as if he has found me. Some of his men are outside the house waiting for the right moment to seize me.”

  She arched a brow. “They are?”

  “Sí, Señorita,” Pedro answered for Anton. “They are lurking by the front trees as we speak.”

  Vivian switched her gaze from Pedro back to Anton. “What makes you think they are going to kill you?”

  Anton rolled his eyes heavenward as irritation bubbled inside him. “Have you not been listening to one word I said this evening? It does not matter. I have no time to go over it again.” Anton turned to the older woman asleep on the couch and said over his shoulder, “Vivian, help me undress your companion.”

  “What?” Her voice rose in panic. “If you think I’m going to—”

  “Vivian,” Anton interrupted, “I do not have time to argue with you. Do not fear. I will not take advantage of the poor unconscious woman. I just need to borrow her clothing so I can leave without being noticed. Thankfully, she is tall, and I think I can fit into her dress.”

  He prayed this disguise would work. He couldn’t have his uncle find him now.

  “Anton, I must protest to this insanity.” She leaned over and placed her hand on his fingers while they plucked the buttons of Margaret’s dress apart. “What if those men enter after you leave and see my friend lying here without her clothes? They’ll certainly realize something is amiss.”

  Anton exchanged grins with Pedro. When Anton met her stare again he chuckled. “My dear, innocent beauty. Those men will not suspect a thing. Half the women at this function tonight are wearing less than this.”

  Vivian blinked, and her mouth fell open. It took a few moments before she gasped and lines of anger appeared on her face. “Are you suggesting this place is...is...a brothel?”

  “No, Vivian, but neither is it the social event of the season.” Anton tried not to laugh at her shocked expression. “The people who came to this party expected to end up in a room sharing a bed with a willing partner for an unforgettable night of passion.”

  “Oh,” she shrieked and slapped his arm. “I can’t believe I’m in an establishment such as this.”

  Anton returned his focus back to Margaret and yanked down her skirt. “Now, are you going to help or not?”

  He realized the news wasn’t to Vivian’s liking, but he couldn’t dwell upon that now. He’d do anything to get out of this party alive, and the more time they wasted arguing, the quicker his uncle’s men would find Anton and kill him.

  She finally moved beside him and helped undress her friend, leaving Margaret in her shift, pantaloons and stockings. Vivian grabbed the woolen throw off the back of the couch and placed it over her friend.

  Quickly, Anton pulled Margaret’s clothes over his own. Vivian watched with a blank expression. Once he draped the black scarf over his hair, he donned Margaret’s bonnet, using the black netting to cover his facial hair.

  “I think you’ll have to shave,” Vivian snapped. “Those men outside will have to be blind not to notice your mustache.”

  Pretending to cough, he covered his mouth. “Not if I do this.”

  She scowled. “You still don’t look very feminine.”

  Anton arched an eyebrow. “And you think Margaret did?” He glanced at his friend who nodded. In an attempt to hide his lack of womanly assets, Anton gathered Vivian’s black lace shawl around his shoulders. “Is this better?”

  “Yes, but Anton? I have one more question. How will I return my friend to her home this way?”

  Hesitating, he realized he could not leave Vivian here. If he left her alone, she’d run to Mr. Pinkerton. Anton couldn’t allow that. Not until he had the proof to den
y his uncle’s accusations. “Not to worry, dear Vivian. Pedro will see that your friend is returned home.”

  “How will I get home?”

  He grinned. “You are coming with me.”

  “What? I’m not leaving with you.”

  “No, you are not. You will be leaving with someone dressed as your companion.” He grabbed her hand and held tightly. “Ven. We have no more time to waste.”

  * * * *

  Sitting ramrod straight, Vivian folded her arms across her chest, ready to spit nails. How dare Anton force her to go with him? Why, it was practically kidnapping. And, poor Margaret. The woman would not be forgiving whether Vivian could do anything about the situation or not. Would Mr. Pinkerton understand? Probably not, since she placed another employee in harm’s way just to prove a point. She cringed. Her employer would definitely not understand now.

  Anton peeked out the back window of the darkened coach, his body jerking with every bumpy movement. She tried not to touch him, didn’t even want their clothes to brush against each other. How could she get rid of him once they arrived at her house?

  She halted her thoughts. Did she really want to get rid of him? No, he remained her suspect. Staying by his side was essential. Unfortunately, she was too upset to think about what the next little while would be like with him so close.

  Anton sank back in the seat and stripped off the ridiculous bonnet. When his knee bumped Vivian’s leg, she scooted away without looking at him.

  “Gracias, Vivian,” he said after much silence, “for not causing a scene when we left.”

  “What else could I do?”

  He scooted closer and slid his arm along the back of the seat, resting it near her shoulders. She threw him a glare.

  “You could have screamed and drawn attention to yourself,” he answered. “Instead, you walked like a real lady to the coach. You made me proud to be your lady’s companion.”

  She swung her head away, hoping he didn’t see the grin pulling at the corners of her mouth. Even as much as she hated him right now, his appearance made her chuckle.

  His fingers captured her chin, turning her face back to him. “Although you are trying to remain upset with me, I know you are glad you helped.”