Her admission was clearly painful for her, but she had made it regardless of the price. The poignancy of that realization touched and shook him. “Then it’s the duty of both of us to see that things are made right. You can see that, can’t you?”

She nodded, still not looking at him.

“You’ll have to marry me, Elspeth.”

Her lashes flew up. “I will?”

He nodded. “I’ve sent for Father Benedict. We’ll be married in the chapel right away. If we have a child, there will be no whispers of illegitimacy.”

“Couldn’t we wait? Perhaps there will be no child. You said-”

“I also said there was a chance.” His lips tightened. “My future isn’t exactly certain, and I’ll not risk leaving you unwed if there’s any possibility of your bearing my child.”

She shivered. Death. He was saying he might die before his child was born. The thought brought a strange sense of panic and violent rejection. “Dominic, I don’t want you…”

“I know you don’t want to marry me. For God’s sake, what woman would want to link her life to mine? But it will be only for a short time. Within a few weeks we’ll know whether or not you’re to bear my child. If you’re not with child, I’ll arrange for you to divorce me.”

“Divorce,” she repeated, shocked. First a fallen woman and now a divorced one, she thought distractedly. One was almost as bad as the other. “And if I am with child?”

His expression became shuttered and his finger dropped from her lips. “Then I make no promises. You’ve already remarked on how possessive we Delaneys can be.” He stepped back. “It’s a chance we’ll both have to take.”

Her face was troubled. “I don’t know.”

“Christ.” His voice was suddenly harsh with impatience. “Are you afraid I’ll hold you to our vows for no good reason? Do you think I want to marry you? You once said I was no gentleman, and Lord knows, you’re right. But I’m also not a welcher who doesn’t pay his debts. I took something from you that I can’t give back, but I can give you my name and the protection it affords.” His gaze slid away from her. “And I promise not to touch you again as I did last night. If we’re lucky enough to escape with no consequences, I’d be a fool to endanger my freedom a second time.”

Why did his words cause her such a wrenching pang? Of course he had no wish to marry her, she told herself sternly. Last, night had been a mere moment of uncontrolled lust to him. Any woman would have served as well. He had been as angry with his father as she had been at the trap laid for them.

His gaze shifted to her face. “You can see we have no choice in this.”

“Yes, I can see,” she said dully. “I suppose there’s nothing else we can do.”

His shoulders made an almost imperceptible movement, as if throwing off a burden. “I’m glad you’re being sensible. We’ll be leaving for Kantalan right after the ceremony.”

“Kantalan.” Her eyes widened. “You’re going with me?”

The corners of his lips twisted with a crooked smile. “How else can I be certain I have no offspring wandering the face of the earth? I don’t think I could trust you to come to me for help if you needed it.” He turned away. “We’re taking two extra pack animals. If Kantalan exists, then maybe the treasure does too. Lord knows, Killara could use a barrel of gold in its coffers right now.” He moved swiftly toward the door. “So we’re not burdening the animals with anything but necessities. You can forget about that portmanteau. If your belongings won’t fit into a saddlebag, then leave them here. You’d only have to discard them when we load the burros with gold.” He opened the door. “If there is any gold.”

“But you do believe there is a treasure, don’t you?” Elspeth asked softly. “And you believe there is a Kantalan?”

He looked back at her. “I did once. I believed everything White Buffalo told me at the time.”

“Even the prophecy?”

He shrugged. “I was a wild, loco kid. That was before I gave up believing in dreams and lost cities. I’m different now.”

Elspeth felt a tug of tenderness. He was not as different as he pretended to be. There were still a few dreams he believed in. He believed in his vision for Killara and suddenly she realized that he believed in something else. “You didn’t really answer me. Do you believe Kantalan exists?”

He was silent a moment. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I believe in Kantalan. I suppose I always have.” The door closed softly behind him.

Elspeth stared straight ahead at the ornate gold design on the ivory-colored altar cloth; she could see the brown-robed figure of Father Benedict as he left them and mounted the three steps to the high altar. Did that mean it was almost over? She had understood very little of the Latin the priest had murmured over them, and had answered only when prompted by Dominic. She cast a sidewise glance at Dominic, standing beside her. His expression was grave, almost stern, as his gaze, too, followed the priest.

Husband. He was going to be her husband in a few short minutes. How strange to think of this wild, hard man in such domestic terms. Yet she was surely an equally unlikely bride in her brown riding skirt and boots. Her only bridal touch was the white lace mantilla Rising Star had draped over her neat bun before she’d entered the chapel.

“Your head must be covered,” Rising Star had said gently. “It is the custom.” Then she had leaned forward and brushed Elspeth’s cheek with her lips and whispered, “There is something wrong here. Malvina would not tell me why this was done in such haste. Are you content with this marriage? May I help you in any way?”

Content? Elspeth didn’t know what she was feeling at this moment but she knew it was not contentment. She also knew there was nothing Rising Star could do to alter the circumstances of this marriage. “No, there is no way you can help me,” she had said softly.

Rising Star had been silent for a moment, her dark eyes troubled. “I told Malvina I would not come and watch this marriage. I would share your joy, but I will not share your vows.” She turned abruptly away. “God be with you.” Then she was gone, hurrying back across the courtyard toward the house.

Elspeth glanced down at the fragile mantilla falling in graceful folds around her. “It is the custom.” It was clear Rising Star tried very hard to follow the customs of her husband’s people, and expected Elspeth to do likewise. It was the custom for a wife to respect and love her husband. It was the custom for her to bear his children and work at his side. It was the custom for her to occupy his bed and offer her body when he so desired…

“Are you all right?” It was Dominic’s low voice, his concerned gaze on her flushed cheeks. “It will be over in a minute.”

She drew a shaky breath. “Yes,” she whispered back. “It’s only that this is so… so unusual for me.”

His eyes twinkled. “It isn’t exactly an everyday affair for me either.” He slowly reached out and enfolded her small hand in his larger one. Support, comfort, serenity. How could one simple gesture tell her all those wonderful things? But his did.

Her clasp unconsciously tightened on his hand as she looked up to meet his eyes. She inhaled sharply and then forgot to breathe. There was something waiting there, something just out of reach, something beautiful.

He was gazing at her, his light eyes softly intent, his expression no longer amused, but holding the same breathless wonder. He impulsively moved closer. “Elspeth, I-”

The priest was returning, his plump face solemn, his voice still murmuring the words of the ritual.

With a painful effort Elspeth pulled her gaze away from Dominic’s. For a moment she had felt they were joined in an intimacy more complete than the one they had known in the night. There had been a question asked and answered, a memory perceived and accepted, a closeness once known reborn. She hadn’t wanted to abandon that closeness. It was a part of the beauty, a part of the merging, part of what had been and always would be.

“Kneel.”

Elspeth’s gaze flew back to Dominic. “What?”

“We have to kneel for the blessing.” His hand still held her own and she saw in his taut pale face the same poignant regret she was experiencing, as if he, too, had been pulled back too soon from that other place.

“Very well.” She didn’t move, gazing up at him.

“Now.” His smile lit his dark face with a rare masculine beauty. “Together.”

Together. What a truly lovely word, she thought dreamily. It encompassed strength and companionship, a linking of minds and bodies through an eternity of belonging.


* * *

In the rear of the chapel the heavy black woolen draperies that formed the walls of the confessional box moved slowly to one side as if shifted by an unseen hand.

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the narrow windows of the chapel surrounding Dominic Delaney and Elspeth MacGregor in a nimbus of radiance as they stood before the altar. They were gazing at each other, their hands clasped and their faces illuminated by another radiance that came from within.

How beautiful they were, Ramon Torres thought, sentimental tears springing to his eyes. The man was so tall and dark and strong, the woman small and fair and fragile in her fine white lace mantilla. Could anything be more joyous and touching than two souls joined by a love as strong as the one mirrored on their faces now?

The ornate wrought-iron grillwork surrounding the confessional booth was very convenient, Ramon Torres thought absently as he rested the tip of the barrel of his pistol in the opening formed by the fretwork. He carefully shifted the hole he had made in the black woolen draperies that formed the walls of the confessional. The grillwork masked any glint of sunlight on the barrel and enabled him a clear view of Dominic and his bride as they took their vows.