Stronger Than Passion Read Online Free

deliberately silent, she spoke again, her softly-accented English articulate and clear.
    My healing woman tells me that you should completely recover. The musket ball has been removed from your shoulder and has caused remarkably little damage. Your fever is down as well. You are a very lucky man, Señor.” She paused, her greenish-gold eyes wide with uncertainty, that upward-tilt paralleling the rising arch of her dark brows. Yes, he thought objectively, this was an interesting face. “Is there someone that you wish us to contact?” she continued. “Someone you wish me to write? Perhaps your family?”
    “No, ma’am. That would be a waste of time.” He kept his tone low and exaggerated his Texas drawl in a slight, if prudent effort to disguise his real voice. There was no point in attempting to pretend he was not an American; she already suspected it and had locked him up anyway. “My name is Malone. Jim Malone. I was headed to Puebla on Business when I ran into a passel of banditos. They shot me, but I got away . . . and ended up here. Wherever this is, Señor.”
    He smiled ingenuously, knowing what a sorry picture he must present, having remained deliberately unshaven when the little maid had offered to do it for him; but figuring that this lady, apparently living alone from society - according to Dorotea’s gossip - might warm to him.
    He was wrong. She froze, instead. The hesitancy left her face and it firmed, becoming a distant and unreachable aristocratic mask.
    “You are on my estate, near Jalapa, in my hacienda. You are welcome here while you recover. However, I will tell you that your appearance - at this particular time - must be investigated. I am sure you will understand that, Mr. Malone, since you must be aware that Mexico is a country invaded, and all strangers now must be regarded with suspicion. I am surprised that you chose to travel in Mexico at all.”
    His eyes narrowed. “My business was important, Señora. It still is. I hope this investigation you’re talking about won’t take very long. I heal fast. In fact, I’ll probably be on my feet in a day or two.”
    It was obvious from the golden spark in her eyes she feared he would. “Then I regret to say that I must detain you. At least until the Condé de Castillo, whom I have summoned, arrives to interview you. He should be here in four days, at the most.”
    “Why can’t you take my word for it that I am here on personal business, which has nothing to do with the United States or any war?”
    “Because I am loyal to Mexico, Señor, and will not take the risk of informing no one that you are here! I could have sent word of you to my cousin, Don Santa Anna, who lives nearby and has just returned from Cuba; but he has many important things to do just now . . . and besides, he would likely throw you into prison until he found the time to question you. Would you prefer that?”
    Her words were sharp and inarguable. He was in no position just now to put forth more effort to change her mind, which he doubted was possible anyway. Particularly in light of the new fact that Santa Anna was her cousin . . . and any bad-tempered arguing on his part might result in Santa Anna being called. The last thing he needed right now! He must concentrate on gaining strength, overcoming the pain, and wooing the accommodating maid until she would do as he wished. In the meantime, he contrived - quite easily - to look as though he was hurting.
    No, Señora . . . oh, God, my shoulder . . . do you think you could find me some tequila? For the pain . . .”
    She turned and spoke softly to the short, grim-faced servant who carried the lantern and who had stood silently and disapprovingly by the doorway during their conversation. The woman set the lantern down on a shelf and left.
    The Señora turned back to him, frowning slightly, her expression reverting again to uneasy concern.
    “How can I make you more comfortable? Besides the tequila?”
    He considered several