Enamored. Diana Palmer

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       Chapter Three

      Melissa knew that as long as she lived there would be the humiliation of that afternoon in her memory. Her father’s outrage, Diego’s taut shouldering of the blame, her own tearful shame. The men quickly left the ruins at Edward Sterling’s terse insistence, but Melissa knew they’d seen enough in those brief seconds to know what had happened.

      Edward Sterling followed them, giving Melissa and Diego time to get decently covered. Diego didn’t speak at all. He turned his back while she dressed, and then he gestured with characteristic courtesy for her to precede him out of the entrance. He wanted to speak, to say something, but his pride was lacerated at having so far forgotten himself as to seduce the daughter of his family’s worst enemy. He was appalled at his own lack of control.

      Melissa went out after one hopeful glance at his rigid, set features. She didn’t look at him again.

      Her father was waiting outside. The rain had stopped and his men were at a respectful distance.

      “It wasn’t all Diego’s fault,” Melissa began.

      “Yes, I’m aware of that,” her father said coldly. “I found the poems you wrote and the note asking Laremos to meet you so that you could—how did you put it?—‘prove your love’ for him.”

      Diego turned, his eyes suddenly icy, hellishly accusing. “You planned this,” he said contemptuously. “Dios mío, and like a fool I walked into the trap…”

      “How could I possibly plan a raid by guerrillas?” she asked, trying to reason with him.

      “She certainly used it to her advantage,” Edward Sterling said stiffly. “She was warned before she left the house that there was trouble at your estate, Estrella told her as she rode out of the yard, and she went in that general direction.”

      Melissa defended herself weakly. “I didn’t hear Estrella. And the poems and the note were just daydreaming….”

      “Costly daydreaming,” her father replied. He stared at Diego. “No man with any sense of honor could refuse marriage in the circumstances.”

      “What would you know of honor?” Diego asked icily. “You, who seduced my father’s woman away days before their wedding?”

      Edward Sterling seemed to vibrate with bad temper. “That has nothing to do with the present situation. I won’t defend my daughter’s actions, but you must admit, Señor Laremos, that she couldn’t have found herself in this predicament without some cooperation from you!”

      It was a statement that turned Diego’s blood molten, because it was an accusation that was undeniable. He was as much to blame as Melissa. He was trapped, and he himself had sprung the lock. He couldn’t even look at her. The sweet interlude that had been the culmination of all his dreams of perfection had turned to ashes. He didn’t know if he could bear to go through with it, but what choice was there? Another dishonor on the family name would be too devastating to consider, especially to his grandmother and his sister.

      “I will not shirk my responsibility, señor,” Diego said with arrogant disdain. “You may rest assured that Melissa will be taken care of.”

      Melissa started to speak, to refuse, but her father and Diego gave her such venomous looks that she turned away and didn’t say another word.

      The guerrillas had been dealt with. Apollo Blain, tall and armed to the teeth at the head of a column led by the small, wiry man Laremos called First Shirt, was waiting in the valley as the small party approached.

      “The government troops are at the house, boss,” Shirt said with a grin.

      Apollo chuckled, his muscular arms crossed over the pommel of his saddle. “Cleaning house, if you’ll forgive the pun. Glad to see you’re okay, boss man. You, too, Miss Sterling.”

      “Thanks,” Melissa said wanly.

      “With your permission, I will rejoin my men,” Diego said with cool formality, directing the words to Edward. “I will make the necessary arrangements for the service to take place with all due haste.”

      “We’ll wait to hear from you, señor,” Edward said tersely. He motioned to his men and urged his mount into step beside Melissa’s.

      “I don’t suppose there’s any use in trying to explain?” she asked miserably, too sick to even look back toward Diego and his retreating security force.

      “None at all,” her father said. “I hope you love Laremos. You’ll need to, now that he’s well and truly hamstrung. He’ll hate both of us, but I won’t let you be publicly disgraced, even if it is your own damned fault.”

      Tears slid down her cheeks. She stared toward the distant house with a sick feeling that her life was never going to be the same again. Her hero-worshiping and daydreaming had led to the end she’d hoped for, but she hadn’t wanted to trap Diego. She’d wanted him to love her, to want to marry her. She had what she thought she desired, but now it seemed that the Fates were laughing at her. She remembered a very old saying that had never made sense before: be careful what you wish for, because you might get it.

      * * *

      Weeks went by while Melissa was feted and given party after party with a stiff-necked Señora Laremos and Juana, Diego’s sister, at her side. Their disapproval and frank dislike had been made known from the very beginning, but like Diego, they were making the most of a bad situation.

      Diego himself hardly spoke to Melissa unless it was necessary, and when he looked at her she felt chilled to the bone. That he hated her was all too apparent. As the wedding approached, she wished with all her heart that she’d listened to her father and had never left the house that rainy day.

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