a mere man like me?”
“If you don’t leave, then I will.” She wrenched at the doorknob, jerked open the heavy wooden door, and went through it. He caught her arm before she’d taken two steps into the chilly hall and pulled her back inside the room.
“If you go anywhere else, it’ll be to my bedroom, and I’m sure you’d prefer to remain here.”
He stared down at her, his hand still gripping her arm, his face scowling in anger and possibly frustration or regret. She met his gaze with as much scorn as she could muster to cover her fright and disgust at the entire episode.
Outside, in the pine trees that rose beside the window, birds were chirping in response to the new day.
Christina raised her chin, and gestured. “It’s morning now. Don’t you think it’s time you went to bed?”
He laughed, harshly, and dropped her arm. “Why not?” He moved to the door. But before he exited, he arched one eyebrow at her and said, “You might as well know that I consider my question answered.”
He closed the door behind him. Christina stood staring at it until her body began to shiver in the early-morning cold. But instead of climbing back into bed to warm herself, she picked up the fallen spread, pulled it around her, and huddled into an armchair near the window. There would be no sleeping for her for some time to come.
*
Michael left the President’s private office later in the morning feeling satisfied, on the whole. There was little doubt that Polk had taken his speculative report on Santa Anna’s doings quite seriously; he had called a meeting with his cabinet to be held in one hour. Michael was asked to hang around, just in case Lowndes had any more questions for him. He would, of course, remain anonymous to the rest of Polk’s staff.
Unfortunately, the only criticism the President had voiced regarding Michael’s handling of the affair had concerned his abduction of the Señora de Sainz. Polk was completely shocked that Michael had taken her prisoner; and even more horrified at the thought of his own deeply religious wife finding out. Should the high-handed capture of a lady become public knowledge, the President would not only have to face the wrath of an outraged Congress, but that of his wife, too.
But Geoffrey Lowndes had stated privately the night before that he approved of Michael’s action, and would speak with the President. Furthermore, he was anxious to interrogate the Señora. If the woman proved as knowledgeable as Brett believed her to be, she could become invaluable as a source of inside information on the personality of Santa Anna. If she knew his habits, and could accurately predict the man’s moves - the Señora de Sainz would be worth her weight in gold! There were also those statements Santa Anna had made in his letters, apparently destroyed. If she could be persuaded to relate them . . .
Brett shook his head after hearing these hopes expressed. He had already warned Lowndes the Señora was stubborn. But Lowndes figured that a private talk with the Señora was in order. He informed Brett that he would call on the Señora that very evening, at Brett’s home; where she would remain safely tucked away and out of sight.
The problem of Christina de Sainz and how to keep her presence in Washington a temporary secret brought a scowl to Michael’s face as he lounged in a book-lined hallway of the Capital. Damn the woman anyway, and his own idiocy in yanking her out of Mexico! True, both he and his adopted country would and were benefiting by his impulsive kidnapping. But what would it be worth in the end? If Washington society discovered he was keeping the daughter of a Spanish marquès a prisoner in his home, the outraged hue and cry would be loud enough to drive him back to Texas. If a lynching party weren’t immediate formed. War or no war, Washingtonians were impressed by European nobility . . . and nobody, after meeting his Señora, would ever deny she was that. One haughty
“If you don’t leave, then I will.” She wrenched at the doorknob, jerked open the heavy wooden door, and went through it. He caught her arm before she’d taken two steps into the chilly hall and pulled her back inside the room.
“If you go anywhere else, it’ll be to my bedroom, and I’m sure you’d prefer to remain here.”
He stared down at her, his hand still gripping her arm, his face scowling in anger and possibly frustration or regret. She met his gaze with as much scorn as she could muster to cover her fright and disgust at the entire episode.
Outside, in the pine trees that rose beside the window, birds were chirping in response to the new day.
Christina raised her chin, and gestured. “It’s morning now. Don’t you think it’s time you went to bed?”
He laughed, harshly, and dropped her arm. “Why not?” He moved to the door. But before he exited, he arched one eyebrow at her and said, “You might as well know that I consider my question answered.”
He closed the door behind him. Christina stood staring at it until her body began to shiver in the early-morning cold. But instead of climbing back into bed to warm herself, she picked up the fallen spread, pulled it around her, and huddled into an armchair near the window. There would be no sleeping for her for some time to come.
*
Michael left the President’s private office later in the morning feeling satisfied, on the whole. There was little doubt that Polk had taken his speculative report on Santa Anna’s doings quite seriously; he had called a meeting with his cabinet to be held in one hour. Michael was asked to hang around, just in case Lowndes had any more questions for him. He would, of course, remain anonymous to the rest of Polk’s staff.
Unfortunately, the only criticism the President had voiced regarding Michael’s handling of the affair had concerned his abduction of the Señora de Sainz. Polk was completely shocked that Michael had taken her prisoner; and even more horrified at the thought of his own deeply religious wife finding out. Should the high-handed capture of a lady become public knowledge, the President would not only have to face the wrath of an outraged Congress, but that of his wife, too.
But Geoffrey Lowndes had stated privately the night before that he approved of Michael’s action, and would speak with the President. Furthermore, he was anxious to interrogate the Señora. If the woman proved as knowledgeable as Brett believed her to be, she could become invaluable as a source of inside information on the personality of Santa Anna. If she knew his habits, and could accurately predict the man’s moves - the Señora de Sainz would be worth her weight in gold! There were also those statements Santa Anna had made in his letters, apparently destroyed. If she could be persuaded to relate them . . .
Brett shook his head after hearing these hopes expressed. He had already warned Lowndes the Señora was stubborn. But Lowndes figured that a private talk with the Señora was in order. He informed Brett that he would call on the Señora that very evening, at Brett’s home; where she would remain safely tucked away and out of sight.
The problem of Christina de Sainz and how to keep her presence in Washington a temporary secret brought a scowl to Michael’s face as he lounged in a book-lined hallway of the Capital. Damn the woman anyway, and his own idiocy in yanking her out of Mexico! True, both he and his adopted country would and were benefiting by his impulsive kidnapping. But what would it be worth in the end? If Washington society discovered he was keeping the daughter of a Spanish marquès a prisoner in his home, the outraged hue and cry would be loud enough to drive him back to Texas. If a lynching party weren’t immediate formed. War or no war, Washingtonians were impressed by European nobility . . . and nobody, after meeting his Señora, would ever deny she was that. One haughty
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