Mexican Fire by Martha Hix Page B

bosom, and not with his huge hands splayed across her derriere to press her to his thighs, and certainly not with his sensuous lips half parted as if to beckon a kiss.
    A kiss wasn’t what he wanted.
    â€œYou never saw any Froggie prince leaving my house, and even if you did see him or some look-alike on the road fronting Casa Montgomery, I can’t be blamed for it. I don’t keep a sentry posted to take note of any and everyone who travels a public road.” Reece’s fingers squeezed the round of her behind. “Now, tell General Santa Anna you lied.”
    â€œI did not.”
    â€œYou did.”
    Santa Anna shoved one hand in his pocket and threw the other wide. “Stop this! You lovers embarrass me.”
    â€œWe are being scandalous,” Reece said, grinning down at her. “And that’s exactly what all of this is: a lover’s row.” He glanced a mustachioed kiss off her cheek. “You see, Antonio, I didn’t take her seriously when she promised I’d regret it . . . if I didn’t arrive here with a proposal of marriage.”
    The nerve of him! Proposal of marriage—huh! A woman would have to be lame of faculties if she wished to spend the rest of her life with such an asp! Wouldn’t she? One thing was for certain there would never be a dull moment. And you must be dull-witted, Alejandra!
    He released her, and she half lurched to gain footing. “I think we should take our leave, Antonio,” Reece said, “so that my darling may pull herself together. ”
    And so they had departed.
    Leaving Alejandra foiled in her efforts to thwart Santa Anna . . . not to mention her efforts to expose Reece as faithless to anything or anyone Mexican. Her fight was paralyzed.
    A wail of frustration reverberated through her sleeping chamber. She grabbed her hairbrush, throwing it across her bedchamber. She despised the cursed El Cazador!
    A knock on the door whirled her around. Ninfa entered the bedchamber. The moon-faced girl’s color high, she said, “Manuel, um, he, um, located your sister. She was with Señor de Guzman.” Dropping her chin, she laced her fingers. “They were in the stable.”
    â€œÂ¡Madre de Dios!”
    Rushing to a window, Alejandra opened it and stuck her head out. The moon afforded a clear view. She looked down the carriageway, then across the lawn to the stable’s outline. Nary a movement did she detect. Were they still in their hideaway?
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    Five minutes later, Alejandra had thrown off her wrapper and had grabbed a cotton skirt and a jacket, which she was buttoning to her chin. She stomped toward the stable door. Nonchalant as she pleased, Mercedes strolled into the moonlit night. She hummed a tune while pulling straw from the disarray of her blond hair.
    Alejandra, scowling, halted an arm’s length from her sister. Yet she couldn’t utter a remonstration. As much as she thought it sinful for Mercedes to lay with Erasmo, she realized her sister must be terribly unhappy in her marriage to have sought the arms of another man. Erasmo, on the other hand, should have been more gallant.
    Mercedes spoke. “You’re to blame, you know. You were the one who reminded me it isn’t hate I feel for Erasmo.”
    â€œMercie, I never meant— ¡Maldición! What about Joaquin!”
    Mercedes passed her sister. Alejandra whipped around, catching her arm. “I intend to have a few words with Erasmo about you.”
    â€œYou’ll have a hard time doing that. He borrowed one of your horses and rode out. Five, maybe ten minutes ago.”
    â€œTo go where? Home?”
    â€œEventually. I think he intends to make a detour first.”
    â€œTo do what?”
    â€œTo put a bullet between Señor Montgomery’s eyes. ”
    Alejandra gasped. Just minutes ago, she would have gladly and with much satisfaction taken Reece’s life. Now that it was in true jeopardy, she knew