“Just passing through,” Jake said noncommittally, glad when Crockett let the subject drop. He leaned back in his chair and relaxed. He was among his own element here and appreciated it. His recent visit home, if he had such a place anymore, had opened his eyes. Ten years was a long time to be gone from Charleston. He no longer fit in there—but then he never really had.
A boy stood on a nearby table and finished lighting the last of the candelabras overhead when a gust of cold air had the newly lit candles flickering wildly. Jake looked up to see what had caused the breeze. The view was like a gut punch. His señorita.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she slipped the heavy blue cloak off her head and let it settle on her shoulders. A high silver comb held in place a black lace scarf over her hair knot, and small silver earrings shimmered daintily from each lobe. She wore a maroon silk dress trimmed with black bows that offered enough of a view of creamy skin at her throat to be enticing but not risqué. The material rustled in a very feminine way as she followed the man she came with, maneuvering gracefully between the tables and chairs. Another Tejano protected her from the back. Jake recognized the two as those he’d seen in Travis’s office yesterday.
“Well, would you feast on that,” Crockett said, letting a low whistle slip through his teeth.
“I am.” Amusement laced Travis’ voice. “And it looks like every other young buck in this cantina is, too. Even Dumont here.”
Crockett met Jake’s gaze. “I didn’t think Seguín would bring that cousin of his in here.”
Jake’s ears caught on the word cousin with a mixture of relief. Not her husband, then, or fiancé. “Why not?” he asked.
“You might use your eyes, Mr. Dumont,” Travis said. “Look at her. Fine bones. She’s not a mixture at all, she’s a lady. Spanish aristocrat. Seguín’s lineage goes way back. Someone like that usually is kept away from the commoners.” He leaned forward as if to tell a great secret. “That would be us. This old cantina could get a bit rowdy for her.”
“I get the feeling she can take care of herself,” Jake said, thinking of his earlier encounter with her. At least she didn’t have hot soup with her now.
Spying them, Juan made his way first to Travis’s table and removed his hat. He was dressed well for such a dusty spot on the map, Jake thought as he glanced over the silver buttons on his shirt collar and the wide satin sash around his waist that matched the señorita’s dress.
“Any more news?” Juan asked in a low voice.
Travis shook his head.
Jake kept his gaze trained on the woman, wondering if she recognized him. If she did, she didn’t acknowledge it.
Juan murmured something in Spanish to the young man with him and they headed to a table across the room.
As the others talked, Jake settled back in his chair and watched the woman. She radiated confidence and something else that tugged at him. The two men who sat with her laughed at something she said and he felt a stab of envy that they enjoyed her wit when he couldn’t. She had charmed them to the point of being lapdogs—something he’d never let a woman do to him. He’d learned his lesson well. He raised his glass to an unseen past and caught the flash of her eyes as they met his. Quickly she looked away, raising her fan to her cover her face.
Crockett let out a laugh and slammed down his beer mug, spraying the table. “Dumont, you’ve got more guts than I took you for. She’s way out of your league. She’ll cut you down to size with that sharp hair comb of hers.”
Jake motioned to a woman serving drinks at the next table.
“You’re out of your mind, Dumont,” Travis said. “Juan will never let you near her.”
“All the better,” he mumbled, wondering what the hell he was doing. “I’m up for a dare. Besides, I don’t know that he’ll have the final say.”
“You’re a cocky son of a gun,” Crockett said. “It’ll be entertaining to watch you get your balls mashed.”
“Thanks for your overwhelming support.”
The serving woman placed a glass of red wine in front of Señorita Torrez. She raised it to Juan, ready to thank him, only to see him scowl and shake his head. Searching the candlelit room, her gaze finally collided with Jake’s and held. She recognized him all right. Awareness pulsed between them. He gave her his best lady-killer smile and rose from his seat, ready to join her. “Gentlemen?” he said by way of goodbye to his table partners. “It’s been an education…”
She frowned and put the glass down. Then she pushed it to the farthest corner of the table.
Jake sat back down with a thump.
“You gonna let that stop you?” Crockett said, barely keeping the smirk from his face.
“Just a setback. She’s playing hard to get.”
Travis leaned forward. “What you don’t seem to get, is that she’s way out of your class.”
“Nothing with skirts is out of my class. But I am choosy.” He’d give her a few minutes, lull her back into thinking she’d get her way and that he’d given up.
“Thought you were heading out in the morning. Why are you interested in dallying with that filly when you’re leaving for San Patricio?” Crockett asked.
Damned if he knew. Just something about her he couldn’t let go. She lowered her fan slightly and he noticed a flush to her cheeks as another glance darted in his direction. Maybe she wasn’t as immune to him as he’d thought. “My horse could use one more day to rest.”
“You try the turpentine like Doc Pollard said?”
He nodded, turning his attention back to Travis. “Too early to tell if it’s helping. Well, gentlemen, I’d like to stay and discuss things, but a challenge waits.”
He raised his glass of whiskey. “To Washington—his great deeds, those remembered and those that aren’t.” He tossed the drink to the back of his throat, his courage bolstered by the liquid fire.
Half the room must have heard him. They all joined in with a hail of some kind. Then another man called out, “To freedom for Texas!” Tejanos and Texians alike raised their mugs. The band began a lively tune in the middle of the ruckus.
“Now you’ve started it,” Crockett said with a grin.
The sound was deafening. Jake rose, dropped a couple coins on the table to pay for his drinks and headed over to the señorita’s table.
As he approached, annoyance flitted across her face, quickly covered by a polite facade. Most women welcomed his interruption. This was a new experience—a diverting one, if nothing should come of it. When he stopped in front of her, she seemed reluctant to make the introductions to her cousin and the other man, Diego. However, they both stood and shook hands with him, remembering him from Travis’s office.
“You know my cousin, Señor Dumont?” Juan asked.
“We met yesterday. I spoke with her outside the hospital.”
