Golden Paradise (Vincente 1) Read online

  As he turned to leave, Valentina made a quick decision. How could she stand there and allow Tyree Garth to be treated badly by Reverend Lawton when he had been so kind to her? She could not just let him walk away—he deserved better from her. "Wait, Mr. Garth. If you were nice enough to call on me, the least I can do is offer you a cup of tea. Won't you come into the house and meet my mother?"

  "Miss Barrett, what can you be thinking!" Percival declared in shocked surprise. "It's most unseemly for a woman of your breeding to entertain such an unsavory gentleman in your home. Most unseemly indeed."

  Tyree laughed in amusement. "Don't get in a lather, Reverend. I am on my way down to the docks and will have to decline the invitation this time. I hope the offer will be extended at a later date, Miss Barrett."

  "Indeed it will, sir," she said, caught by his infectious smile.

  "I will look forward to it."

  "Mr. Garth," Valentina spoke up hurriedly. "Do you know if senor Vincente has found out anything new about my father?"

  "Nothing yet. That's why I'm on my way to the docks now. I want to make some inquiries. Let us hope that it won't be too long before we will know something."

  Much to Percival's displeasure, Valentina reached out and placed her hand on Tyree's sleeve. "You are most kind, sir. I have met the most wonderful people since coming to California. On behalf of my mother and me, I want to thank you for trying to help locate my father, Mr. Garth. My mother has been ill and is resting at the moment. I know she will extend her gratitude to you on your next visit."

  Tyree flashed her a rakish grin. "I have done nothing, so far. But I am looking forward to the next meeting, Miss Barrett." He nodded at the reverend, tipped his hat to Valentina, and strolled leisurely away, while Valentina and Reverend Lawton both stared after him.

  "That man is not the kind you should associate yourself with, Miss Barrett. He owns that den of iniquity and shouldn't force his friendship on decent people."

  "I saw nothing wrong in his offer of friendship, or his most generous offer to help me find my father."

  Jealousy burned in Percival's watery eyes. "Why didn't you ask me to help you find your father instead of going to Marquis Vincente and Tyree Garth?"

  "I didn't ask either of them for help—they offered on their own."

  "I would have helped you."

  "No, you wouldn't have, Mr. Lawton. You tried to convince me that my father was dead." All Valentina wanted to do was escape from this man who seemed to soil everything he came in contact with. Was there nothing, or no one, he approved of? She excused herself and made a hasty retreat.

  Later in the evening, as Valentina poured hot water into the teapot and set the cups on a tray, she pondered Tyree Garth's visit. Apparently he hadn't recognized her. But it was only a matter of time before he found out her true identity. If Tyree had accepted her invitation today, he would have seen Salamar, and he would have known she was Jordanna. Somehow she did not mind Tyree finding out who she was—she had the feeling he would understand—but, for some reason, she did not want Marquis to learn she was the dancer at the Crystal Palace. He would never understand ... or forgive.

  By now Jordanna's fame had spread the length and breadth of California. Men journeyed for hundreds of miles to see the woman who captured their hearts and imagination. Not one of the rough-hewn miners had ever attempted to touch her; they wanted only to worship her from afar. The usual bags of gold dust were tossed on the stage as a tribute to her; armloads of flowers were delivered to her dressing room.

  The newspaper reporter, Julian Mathews, helped add to the legend of Jordanna. He wrote glowing reports of her graceful beauty. He wrote how astonishing it was that no man ever attempted to go backstage to see Jordanna— not that the two guards posted at the entrance would have allowed it had they tried.

  Valentina was uneasy because of the publicity she was receiving. She considered quietly slipping away, allowing Jordanna to disappear, just as her mother had when she had left Paris, but not yet. If it turned out that her father was dead, she would need enough money to buy passage back to England for her mother, Salamar, and herself.

  Each night Valentina searched the faces in the audience, looking for Marquis. He had yet to disappoint her; he was always there watching her dance. After her fear that he would recognize her diminished, she began to dance for him. The sensuous movements she made were to entice him. She felt no shame as she glided across the stage, knowing he was watching her every move. The irony was that, in her way, she was making love to him.

  Now, as Valentina slipped the veil over her face, she hoped Marquis would be present tonight. She felt excitement building up deep inside. Tonight she would dance her best. She would dance for Marquis Vincente alone.

  Marquis watched the curtains expectantly, waiting for them to open. He, like all the other men in the audience, had come to see Jordanna dance. He was hopelessly caught by her spell; she kept pulling at him, bringing him back each night. Marquis had the feeling that she was dancing for him alone. He could not see her eyes, but he knew she was watching him. Tonight he would ask to meet her in person. He had not believed Tyree when he had said she did not mix with the male customers. She would not be flaunting her charms before the men if she did not like what she was doing. Jordanna's exotic movements suggested she was trying to entice rather than entertain.

  Marquis's dark eyes blazed. She had been born for a man to make love to. Marquis intended to be that man— or perhaps he would be just one of many. Most probably Tyree had already had the woman in his bed.

  At that moment the music began and the curtains slowly parted. The haunting melody grew louder as a soft light centered on a woman draped from head to foot in shimmering gold material. As Valentina rose to her feet, the golden fabric fell away and the audience gasped in awe. She wore golden-colored harem pants with just a hint of skin showing through. Across her face and covering her hair was a golden net with tiny bells attached so that each movement she made brought the most delightful tinkling sound.

  The men were dazed by her beauty. When she reached to pick up a sword from the floor, they waited, scarcely breathing, to see what new, exciting dance she would perform for them this night.

  Marquis felt his heart thunder against his chest, keeping time with the music. Faster and faster the tempo rose as the woman swung the sword over her head. Leaping into the air, her face hidden behind her veils of secrecy, she slashed the air with the blade. Grasping the sword in both hands, she raised it over her head, then, to everyone's amazement, threw it across the stage where it landed point first in a block of wood, hitting a bull's-eye. Softly the music drifted around the room, lending its beauty to Valentina's performance. She was so talented, she pulled every emotion from her audience. She amused, titillated; she made them feel sorrow, anger, passion. She drew all her strength from her audience, leaving them drained and completely under her spell.

  The crowd roared their approval as she dramatically leapt into the air and came down in a soft curtsy. Silence followed. Then electricity seemed to charge the air, for her audience worshiped her talent, adored her feminine beauty.

  When she stood up slowly, the crowd went wild, as always. Valentina's eyes were on Marquis. She saw him touch his lips to a single snow-white rose before tossing it to her. It landed at her feet, and Marquis watched spellbound as she reached down and picked up the fragrant flower and touched it to her lips. Valentina knew she was flirting, but she could not seem to stop herself. The stage was littered with bags of gold dust, yet she had chosen to acknowledge him by picking up his rose. What he could not know was that she was remembering the crimson rose he had given her as Valentina.

  Blowing a kiss to the audience, Valentina quickly ran across the stage and disappeared. Everyone knew she would not come back that night, but still they called for her long after she had gone.

  Tyree sat down at the table beside his friend, eyeing him speculatively. "I have seen more of you in the past two weeks than I usual
ly see of you in a year. Could it be that you are enchanted by my new dancer, Marquis?"

  "I want to meet her, Tyree. We have been friends for a long time. Surely you would not deny me this one small favor. Introduce me to her."

  "Sorry, Marquis. It is her wish not to meet anyone. I have sworn to keep everyone away from her."

  "Since you won a hundred dollars from me, you have to give me a chance to win it back. How about a small wager, Tyree? You are a betting man. What do you say?"

  Tyree chomped down on his cigar. "I'm listening. What do you have in mind?"

  "I have a note that I want you to deliver to Jordanna. If she doesn't want to see me, I will owe you a hundred dollars."

  "She won't see you," Tyree said with assurance. He found it amusing that Marquis had not yet discovered that Jordanna was Valentina.

  "If you are so sure she won't see me, deliver this note to her."

  Tyree took the extended piece of paper and stood. "I never could resist a sure thing. When I return, I'll expect to be paid."

  Marquis watched Tyree walk away, not at all sure that Jordanna would see him. She had flirted with him, but that did not mean she would want him backstage. She was like a fever in his brain. He wanted her—he wanted her almost to the point of madness.

  Tyree knocked on the dressing room door and waited for an answer. He had spent thousands of dollars having the dressing room furnished for Jordanna. The colors were soft blues and whites. There was a blue velvet settee and even a bed covered with a white satin spread. At her insistence he had had an outside door built so she could leave the Crystal Palace without being seen.

  Tyree smiled when Jordanna opened the door to him. There was only one small candle burning, and he could see very little in the dimly lit room. Jordanna, still dressed in her costume, motioned for him to enter.

  She looked at him questioningly. "It's payday," he said, smiling. "Of course your big money comes from what the men throw to you on stage. You should be doing very well now."

  Tyree was a big man and seemed to fill the room with his presence. He was so kind, and Valentina was becoming very fond of him. "I will always be grateful to you for giving me this chance, Mr. Garth."

  Tyree fingered an edge of the golden veil she wore and ran it through his fingers. "How do you happen to have so many different costumes? I would wager you didn't find this kind of material here in San Francisco."

  "Many of my costumes belong to Salamar. I am merely borrowing them."

  "You know you're making me a wealthy man, don't you? If your popularity continues, I may have to expand."

  "No, don't do that," she said quickly. "I will not be here for any great length of time, Mr. Garth. I wouldn't want you to think you can depend on me much longer."

  He seated himself on the blue settee. "How soon will you be leaving?"

  "I don't know." Valentina then did something that took Tyree completely by surprise; she unfastened her veil and pushed it aside. "You knew all along who I was, didn't you?"

  He smiled. "Yes, Valentina, I knew."

  "Yet you still protected my identity."

  "We made a deal."

  "Does Marquis know who I am?"

  Tyree saw the misery in her beautiful silver eyes. He wanted to pull her into his arms and pledge eternal love and devotion, but he knew she was not for him. He reached out for her hand, patting it affectionately before releasing it. "No, Marquis doesn't know. As a matter of fact, he has sent Jordanna a note. He wishes to see you."

  "I don't understand."

  Tyree laughed at the joke on his friend. "He is enchanted by you as the dancer, my dear. He wants to talk to you. I think you can guess why."

  "I . . ." She lowered her head. "I don't want him to find out who I am."

  "He won't find out from me, Jordanna. Shall I send him away?"

  She hesitated for just a moment before she answered. "No. I want to see him."

  Tyree felt a twinge of jealousy tug at his heart. He also feared that Marquis would hurt Valentina if she were not careful. "You know what he wants, Valentina. He is of the Spanish nobility. His life has been laid out for him since the day he was born. You know you could never occupy more than a small corner of that life." Tyree knew he had to warn Valentina about what she would be facing with Marquis, though he had no desire to hurt her.

  "Yes, I know." Her eyes were sad. "Even knowing he is pledged to another, I still want to see him. I know it's wrong to deceive him, but I can't let him know who I really am."

  "Marquis is not like most men, Jordanna. He's from a proud breed. He may despise you when he learns you have deceived him. He thinks Valentina is an angel—I don't have to tell you what he thinks about Jordanna."

  Tyree watched a tear roll down Valentina's cheek. "I will just see him this once. I will take care that he never finds out who I really am."

  Not knowing how to answer her, Tyree stood up and walked to the door. "I would caution you not to feel too deeply about Marquis, Jordanna. He has broken many hearts. He wouldn't think twice about breaking yours."

  She turned her back to him, knowing he spoke the truth. Had she not seen Marquis with a woman who was not his betrothed? Tyree had hinted that there were many women in Marquis's life.

  Hearing the door click shut behind her, Valentina knew Tyree had gone and quickly picked up her veil and pulled it over her face.

  * * *

  Marquis did not hear Tyree come up behind him until he dropped money on the table in front of him. "You win this time, my friend. She will see you."

  Marquis pushed the money aside. "You keep this. I will have something better to keep me warm."

  Tyree grabbed Marquis's arm and spun him around. "Don't joke about her, Marquis. And don't hurt her. She isn't one of your doxies . . . she's special."

  Marquis jerked his arm free and faced his friend with a smile on his lips. "I don't intend to hurt her. I will be very good to her. When I'm finished with her, I'll give her back to you, shall we say, more experienced."

  Tyree clenched his fists together as Marquis walked away. It was all he could do to control his temper. Stalking across the room, he swore under his breath. All hell would break loose before too long. He intended to be around to pick up the pieces when Marquis tired of Jordanna. He hoped for Valentina's sake that Marquis never found out her true identity. Marquis would not like being made the fool. Sighing heavily, Tyree wished he had refused to deliver Marquis's note to Valentina.

  13

  Valentina heard the soft knock on the door and felt her heart leap with apprehension. Why had she agreed to see Marquis? Perhaps she should just tell him who she was and be done with it. A second rap caused her to swallow her fear. Thinking quickly, she disguised her voice and called out in French, then switched to English, imitating her mother's heavy French accent. "Enter."

  Marquis swung the door open and narrowed his eyes in the darkened room. All he could see were vague shadows and outlines. When at last his eyes became accustomed to the dark, they rested on the woman still draped in gold. Smiling, he closed the door behind him.

  "Thank you for seeing me."

  She inclined her head.

  "I was not sure how I should address you, senorita," he said in a deep voice.

  "I answer to Jordanna," came the accented reply. "You may call me that."

  "Jordanna is a lovely and unusual name," he remarked. "I do not believe I have heard it before."

  "It is a family name," she answered, stepping away from the small circle of candlelight.

  "I am Marquis Domingo Vincente, and I have been watching you perform. You dance beautifully."

  "I thank you." Valentina purposely made her voice deep and husky. Her knees began to tremble when she saw the undisguised look of admiration in Marquis's eyes. It was strange being alone with him, with him not knowing who she was. Valentina began to relax. Marquis had no notion of her true identity. She realized if he ever saw the color of her eyes he would immediately know she was Valentina. Theref
ore she stayed in the shadows, protecting herself from discovery.

  "I brought wine. Will you have a drink with me?" He moved farther into the room, holding up a bottle and removing two glasses from his pocket.

  "Yes," she whispered and motioned him to the settee. The candle was on the dressing table, and when Marquis moved forward, he blocked much of the light, throwing the room into darkness.

  After Marquis poured her a glass of ruby wine and handed it to her, he moved over to make room on the settee. Valentina took a sip of the wine and felt its warmth spread through her body. She could not see Marquis's face very well and took comfort in the fact that he could not see hers either.

  When Marquis touched his glass to hers, his laughter was warm. "I drink a toast to the most alluring, talented dancer in all California. You are hailed far and wide as a goddess. I see in you a real flesh-and-blood woman."

  Even though he had not touched her, Valentina felt the heat of his body. When he set aside his glass and captured her face between his hands, she did not move away.

  "I am enchanted with you, Jordanna. You know that, don't you?"

  She did not bother denying his assertion. There was no need for false modesty between them. Each could sense how the other felt. The heat and excitement that ran between them was apparent in every fiber of their beings.

  She watched as he reached his hand into his breast pocket and withdrew an oblong box. "This is for you, Jordanna. I wanted to give you something to enhance your beauty. I hope you will accept this small tribute to your talent."

  "What is it?" she asked, refusing to take the box from him. Marquis smiled and flipped open the catch. There, dazzling, on a bed of black velvet, was a large ruby on a heavy golden chain.

  Valentina shook her head and pushed his hand away. "I cannot accept this from you. I am insulted that you should think I would."

  Puzzlement was written on his face. "I do not understand. Do you think the stone is too small? You do not turn away the gold dust that is thrown at your feet on stage each night."