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During his slow climb back to consciousness, Luis had been most aware of the feeling of warmth. The warmth of the wound on his shoulder. The warmth of the remembered voice reassuring him through the pain. The warmth of hands tending him, supporting him...arousing him. The warmth of delicate lips turning quickly to passionate flame. He recalled being scorched by an expanse of skin pressed against his body. You are not alone, Montoya. Now the warmth had increased below his waist as blood surged.... You pathetic fool, open your eyes!
Finally obeying his overactive voice of reason, Luis opened his eyes to see Robert lounging against the door frame. He seemed very much at home –- likely because this was his home -- but his cheery greeting had an edge that made Luis suspicious. What had he betrayed during his weakened state? What had he let the doctor see this morning? Pain bloomed in his shoulder as he tried to move, and he found himself abandoning more subtle inquiry and retreating into the familiar attitudes of authority and disdain.
The few moment alone as Robert retrieved his twisted version of breakfast, allowed Luis to compose himself. In the cold light of day, removing the temptations of the flesh seemed a much saner course. He resolved to ignore the last twelve hours and behave as he had always done toward Robert. Luis had enjoyed their verbal fencing; it wouldn't be such a trial to limit their exchanges to sharp teasing and innuendo. Just keep telling yourself that, Luis. It puzzled him then when his first little barb struck a target and seemed to bury itself deep rather than simply being batted away with sarcasm and wit. How could someone convey so much with just the set of lips and the tensing of brow? Then Luis noticed the marks left on Robert by the previous night's events. He catalogued the blood stained shirt, the hollowed eyes, the stiff set of Robert's shoulders, as they continued the meaningless exchange with regard to the disgusting brew Robert called a tonic.
When the topic inevitably returned to his wound, the conversation ended and a familiar expression appeared on Robert's face. Luis remembered it from the walk across the square last night. Was Robert feeling guilty about freeing the Queen? No, he had aided her even after the stabbing. Luis was no longer certain of what Robert's interest in the Queen constituted, but it was clear that he preferred her alive. Luis would prefer to have her dead, but could be satisfied with her simply being gone. Maybe he could convince Robert to exert his influence? Was it possible -– probable -- for them both to get everything they wanted?
But that could wait. The Queen of Swords was not a subject to broach when Robert was so close beside him, touching him so hesitantly, not meeting his gaze, looking so deliciously...contrite. Luis let the silence linger, content to watch the play of emotions over Robert's face. It wasn't until he reached to stop Robert rising from the bed that he saw the depth of the anguish in the green eyes. The apology that came pouring out surprised Luis, as did his own reaction. Despite all of his intentions, his kiss was instinctive, an attempt to soothe Robert's obvious pain as his had been comforted the night before. But the light that appeared in Robert's haunted eyes caused a new warmth to bloom. Luis couldn't call it hope, for he had learned that hoping was a wasteful endeavour. One observed and planned and implemented, then either won or lost. One did not hope.
Unless it was for a reasonable breakfast, and to that end he used what influence he felt he had at that moment to secure it. A battle won. And the spoils were the promise of properly brewed coffee and the flash of a brilliant smile as he was admonished to drink his tea. As Robert closed his office door, Luis found himself smiling as well, a most expansive and undignified grin. It was unnerving to feel this level of contentment and to be so certain in it. Each morning this week seemed to bring an elevation in his spirits and a deterioration in his physical condition. At this rate, happiness might kill him.
If the medicine doesn't do it first. Luis looked distrustfully into the depths of the mug. There was no doubting Robert's skill or the effectiveness of the tonic, but the drink was truly vile. He had almost drained the cup when the outer door opened. His first thought was Robert had returned, but the tentative voice calling, "Coronel?" put that idea to rest.
"This way, Emilia," he said. The blissful aroma of fresh coffee preceding her entrance made this visitor even more welcome.
The young serving maid startled as she entered the room, then quickly set the tray she carried on a chest near the door. She began searching through the basket she carried over her arm. "The Senora sent you a light breakfast, Coronel," Emilia said, her back remaining turned toward him. "Just to tide you over. The doctor said that you would be back in your own rooms this morning so she is preparing a special meal. She also sent over some clothes...."
The reason for her uncharacteristic chatter and refusal to turn became clear. "The shirt would be very welcome at the moment, Emilia. Although I regret to say, you are going to have to help me put it on."
The shirt seem to be at the top of the pile in the basket, but even with it in her hand, Emilia hesitated. Luis frowned at this strange behaviour. She delivered coffee to his bedside every morning, though admittedly the night shirt he usually wore was as modest as any of his day ware. Not finding an admonishing phrase in it usual place on the tip of his tongue, Luis sighed silently. What was happening to him that he would be so patient and understanding with this overly sensitive creature? She took a deep breath and turned around before he found the words to prompt her -- perhaps a courageous creature, too. Eyes carefully averted, she reached the bed, took the mug from his hand, and helped him slide the injured arm into the sleeve. Reaching with the other arm pulled at the muscles of his chest, and pain shot through his shoulder. He drew a sharp breath. The sound was echoed behind him, except Emilia's ended with a slight whimper.
"I can fasten the buttons myself," he said.
"Gracias, Coronel," she breathed, and scurried away from the bed.
While Luis finished closing his shirt, Emilia cleared the bandages and mug from the nearby table. She frowned as she noted the colour of the dregs and sniffed at the mug. The speed at which she moved her face away made Luis grin. "Do you think that the medicine could be worse than the malady?"
"If Doctor Helm made it, then it must be very good medicine, Coronel," she said with conviction. So the doctor had another staunch ally. Was there a woman in the pueblo that would not move heaven and earth for the man? Possibly one. The Queen's fury at Robert's refusal of aid cheered his heart, but it wasn't her feelings that concerned him. It seemed his doubts were only gone while the taste of Robert's kiss was on his lips. There were enjoyable ways to remedy that.
Emilia removed the mug and bandages to the chest and returned with the tray. The breakfast was simple: the sweetened bread he had asked for, butter, some kind of red berry preserves, grapes, and the necessary coffee. It would be enough for now. Luis was a little uncertain of his appetite, the pain did unpleasant things so his stomach at times. Emilia added the perfect amount of cream to the coffee –- she must have watched him, for he almost always poured his own -– then handed him the delicate china cup. As he sipped the rich brew, she tore the soft bread into bite sized pieces and buttered each one. Luis noticed that she kept glancing at him and when she turned to ask him if he wished to have preserves spooned onto his bread she wore an unusually sweet smile.
"No, I can do it if I change my mind. What is on your mind to bring such a glow to your face, Emilia?"
The maid backed away a few steps, eyes downcast, a light blush on her cheek. He didn't usually inquire as to the private thoughts of his staff -– this cheerful mood was going to play havoc with his reputation -– and he could see how this question would be disconcerting. But when she looked up again, the smile was back. Luis closed his eyes briefly in dismay. Might this have something to do with his half nakedness this morning? "I am happy to see you in such good health and spirits this morning, Coronel, that's all," she said, the smile widening. "The talk had you near death's door. And with the doctor being arrested-- "
"WHAT?!"
His outburst startled the grin off of her face and prompted her to take a few more steps toward the door. "Capitan Grisham had Doctor Helm arrested for your murder. I...I saw the soldiers dragging him off to the jail as I brought your breakfast. Jorge told me that the capitán had said the doctor would be sent to Monterrey for trial and to be hanged."
"For my murder?"
"Tha... that is what Jorge told me, Coronel."
"So I have time to finish my breakfast before the hanging."
Her wide brown eyes blinked deliberately a few times, then another smile began to play around Emilia's lips as she dropped a deep curtsy. Gesturing toward the doorway, she said, "I noticed that the surgery and the office...."
"I am sure the doctor would be very appreciative of whatever help you are willing to give him," Luis said, waving her out of the room.
She bobbed again and disappeared into the rest of the building.
Despite of his increasingly unsettled stomach, the plate emptied, though Luis didn't remember tasting much of his breakfast. Was Grisham simply using the opportunity to torment the doctor or was there a more sinister plan at work? It wouldn't be the first time that his captain tried to take advantage of Luis' momentary physical weakness in order to gain command. Or had Grisham finally learned subtlety and was using this "arrest" to test a theory he might have formed last night? Luis reviewed all of his public interaction with Robert over the past few days. He couldn't recall any careless behaviour and their exchange in front of the Queen's cell would have confirmed animosity if anything. Why would Grisham use such a ridiculous charge as attempted murder when it could be refuted so easily? Trying to see the logic of that act alone gave Luis a headache.
The only way to settle these questions was to assess the situation for himself. He decided not to unsettle Emilia further by having her help him change his trousers. They had avoided being bloodstained but looked slept in; they wouldn't depict the controlled, competent image he wanted to portray to his troops -- and particularly to Grisham. Moving his arm hurt, but it was bearable as long as he didn't attempt to reach from the shoulder. He even managed his boots, though they required more stomping than he usually liked to use to get them on. A glance in the mirror, however, showed him a difficulty he could not overcome. "Emilia." She was instantly at the doorway. "See if you can find a comb... somewhere."
He sat in a chair, making it plain what he expected her to do. Emilia clearly understood, collecting the ribbon from the pillow and a comb from the few personal items Helm kept on the wash stand. Then there was another of those long, still pauses. Luis could feel her panic again. "Emilia, if I have to wait much longer the capitán will think that I am dead, and then what will happen to Doctor Helm?"
He heard another of those deep, spine straightening breaths. "Si, Coronel."
Once she started the tasked, Emilia wielded the comb with surety. Luis recalled seeing her with her family at church, Emilia the tallest of a quartet of sisters, all of them with impeccable, sometimes intricate plaits. There could be no doubt who was responsible for grooming the younger girls. Emilia deftly secured the ribbon as a figure appeared at the door. "Yes, Private Esteban?" Luis said.
The soldier stood fidgeting in the doorway until Luis stood and faced him directly. He seemed to come to his senses, snapped to attention and declared, "I am here to tend your wound, Coronel."
Now Luis saw where "murder" fit into Grisham's plan. He was about to dismiss the soldier when he was overridden by Emilia as she helped him into his coat. "Jose Esteban, you will not tend to anyone. I've seen why your mother will no longer let you work in her garden." Luis moved to button the tunic, but found her hands already at the task as she continued to berate the poor private. "She lost half of her tomato plants the last time you helped, not to mention the peas. Then there was the week you were to watch the goats...."
Her diatribe melted away to be replaced by a look of shock as her hands brushed his beard while fastening the top buttons on his shirt. "I forgot the cloth for your collar, Coronel," she said in dismay, her cheeks reddening as she turned away, likely more for her forwardness than the forgetfulness. "Perhaps the doctor...."
"No." Luis shook his head, remembering the state of Robert's wardrobe. "Continue with the rest of the buttons on the tunic." He raised his chin higher, not allowing her embarrassment to take over again. "Considering the fact that I am to have been murdered, I do not think that a missing piece of silk will be noticed."
When she had finished the task, he glanced in the small mirror. Not to his usual standard, but no where near death's door. "Thank you, Emilia." She curtsied, acknowledging her dismissal with downcast eyes, but Luis saw the look she sent to Esteban as she passed. The private took a judicious step away from her.
Luis let a disapproving glare be enough of a reprimand as he passed the soldier on his way out of the doctor's office. The colonel had expected some sort of attempt by the man to carry out his orders, to care for his ailing commander, but, in a surprising show of wisdom, Esteban meekly trailed Luis to the jail and then joined his comrades gathered at the entrance. It was a scene very reminiscent of the previous evening. Didn't they have anything better to do? Another note to put in Grisham's weekly orders; he did not have the energy to shoo them away at the moment. The rest of the jail was empty except for the prisoner and his guard. Luis paused for a moment at the entrance to the row of cells, apparently to take stock of the situation, when in reality it was to catch his breath.
Grisham had placed Robert in the same cell the Queen had occupied the night before and was obviously enjoying the opportunity to torment the doctor without fear of immediate injury. Robert didn't seem to be rising to the verbal bait, but it hadn't stopped him from returning the taunts in a far more subtle way. He had stretched himself out against the cell's bars, reaching high to expose all the delicate areas of his torso, silently daring Grisham to turn the vocal punches into physical ones. Although Grisham was standing foolishly close to the bars, it was obvious he had not yet taken the dare –- he didn't have any broken bones.
Luis' reaction to the display was not what Robert intended, certainly, but not completely unexpected either. Luis' mind easily added manacles to the hands grasping the tops of the bars. And removed the shirt. The trousers could stay – for now. The hint of blood at the corner of Robert's mouth was a nice touch but it would be so much more effective next to lips bruised and swollen due to... Luis gave himself a hard mental slap. He could not afford to indulge in this. At the moment.
"The charge, Capitan?" he asked as he continued to the end of the corridor to stand well behind Grisham. No point in putting temptation within reach.
Grisham turned and straightened to attention. "The assault on and attempted murder of a representative of His Majesty, King Ferdinand of Spain."
Luis' lips twisted at the ostentatious wording of the charge and at the edge of his vision he could see Robert rolling his eyes. Grisham had the decency to give an embarrassed shrug. "And the evidence?" Luis prompted.
"He was there when we found you with his knife in your shoulder, Colonel.
"And I sent you after the guilty party. The good doctor may be a royal pain in the ass, but he is very determined to keep as many people alive as he can."
Robert sent a pointed glare to the back of Grisham's head. Luis did not smile.
"He provided her with the weapon that wounded you, sir," Grisham said.
"She also tried to concuss me with a potted plant. Are you going to arrest Senora Paredes for leaving her bougainvillea within the Queen's reach? Be reasonable, Grisham. The best we can charge him with is playing a minor role in aiding the escape of a prisoner."
Robert's relaxed, open stance closed with the alert tension of a tightly coiled spring. Luis saw the wince that the sudden movement evoked and wondered how much battering Robert had taken before he was thrown in the cell. It didn't seem to have damaged his temper. "God damn it!" He slammed his fist against the wall between the cells. "You can't-–!"
"Do I add blasphemy to the list of charges, Doctor?" Luis stepped forward to cut off the diatribe, Robert had an unfortunate tendency to be indiscreet when angry. Grisham, smirking, had moved further up the corridor and Luis noticed that the outburst had gathered an audience behind the captain. He silently begged Robert to trust him to handle this. After a long pause, and what must have looked like a battle of wills to the observers, the doctor shook his head in defeat. But as he turned to rest one shoulder against the bars, the rest of the room couldn't see his eyes.
"You are a real piece of work, Montoya."
Bastard! That was the same tone Robert had used during his fight with the Queen, distracting him enough to let her stab him. To the rest of the world it might down disdainful, but it had a quality that caused low vibrations to travel down Luis' spine, curl around his balls and produce an instant –- and at this moment highly inappropriate -– response in his cock. This time though, he was sure Robert had done it on purpose.
Violently squashing the delightful sensations, Luis rebutted with sarcasm. "Yet another wound to sting me." Now you smile, you brazen.... "Is there anything else, Capitan?"
"There is the matter of the keys to the jail being found behind the doctor's office."
"I took them, Grisham. Did you not question the guards? I must have dropped them."
"You, Colonel? I would never have imagined you could be so careless."
The insolence in Grisham's tone was the last straw, particularly in front of the men. "It may have had something to so with the extreme shock I experienced when the entire garrison disobeyed a direct order and left their posts to go chasing after an impostor Queen!"
The last few words were just short of a roar and Grisham had snapped to attention, his sneer replaced by the passive mask of a soldier receiving a dressing down. The soldiers had disappeared from Luis' line of sight. He made show of calming himself, then moved in close and pitched his voice low. Grisham was used to being yelled at; Luis had found this to be much more effective at holding his attention. "I have no intention of making it easy for the doctor to escape what he deserves, but I will not deny myself, nor this pueblo of proper medical attention in order to prove a point. I should, however, be able to survive until tomorrow morning." From the corner of his eye, Luis saw Robert turn to look at them through the bars, the disappointment on his face bordering on betrayal. Had he really believed that Luis could simply turn the key and let him go? "Therefore, after a night in jail, and after you have obtained his written parole, Doctor Helm may be released."
The ache he could feel building in his shoulder made him wonder if he had spoken too soon. "Corporal Cruz," Luis called, stepping back into his usual posture and tone. He had noticed the soldier in the group that entered the jail and the man was almost immediately by his side. "Talk to the doctor about the care of my wound, then collect the needed supplies from his office before coming to my quarters."
"But, Colonel," Grisham halted Cruz's movement toward the cell with a small push to the corporal's chest, "I've promoted--"
"Ah yes, that reminds me." Luis moved to the now empty doorway and called, "Private Esteban?"
The soldier came trotting up to the stairs with the look of a puppy waiting to be thrown a stick. "Si, Coronel?"
"Consider yourself demoted."
There was a faint collective sigh from the men gathered in front of the building, including Esteban, and Luis wondered if he should have left the situation as it was just to see how long the rebellion would take to erupt. It took effort for him to turn the smile he knew was lurking around his features into a glare for Grisham. "I lost some blood, Capitan, not my mind. I have seen how the private cares for his rifle. Did you truly believe that I would let him near my injury?"
A last look at Robert showed a grim expression, but his body had relaxed. Luis was sure that he was going to be the recipient of a glorious tirade tomorrow. It would be a shame to let all that anger and passion go to waste, perhaps he should use the rest of the day to think of ways to make it up to the doctor. He left without another word, Grisham falling into step at his shoulder as they crossed the square. The familiar arrangement caused the colonel's mind to fall into familiar patterns as well. "Keep up the appearance of the doctor being in serious trouble, Grisham. We may get the opportunity to provide him with some company if the Queen feels the need to return the favour he did her last night."
"We will be ready for her, Colonel." Luis responded with a small snort. "And do we care what happens to the doctor?" Grisham added slyly.
The implication of the remark was unmistakable, Luis was grateful that the man remained so transparent. "Yes, we do." Luis paused to catch Grisham in a very direct stare. "If I have to go looking for a new doctor for this pueblo, it would be little effort to search for a new capitán of the guard at the same time."
The flash of hatred in Grisham's eyes showed that the warning had been received, but Luis found that emotion oddly comforting. Hatred he knew how to deal with. It was the other feelings, like the ones curling through his gut at the thought of Robert being caught in crossfire, that made him slightly dizzy. Or maybe it was simply the effect of the day's early heat. He continued what was turning out to be an unusually long walk to the comandancia as Grisham headed toward the church. The splash of sky blue satin and ivory lace against the adobe made the reason for his choice of destination clear. Vera was the most efficient way to spread the word of the doctor's perilous predicament to the Queen. And the arrival of Senorita Alvarado practically assured the success of the plan. Between the two ladies it was almost as if Santa Elena had a town crier. Taking one last look at the square before entering the rose courtyard, Luis noticed Cruz helping Tessa Alvarado from her buggy, pausing just long enough for particular politeness before continuing to the doctor's office. That boy was going to go far.
Senora Santiago seemed to have been waiting for him, though his housekeeper had the good sense not to fuss unduly as she greeted in him the courtyard. "Coronel! I am so happy to see you return. I have prepared your room. You will see, all is ready for you, just as the Doctor...."
The way her words dissipated spoke as clearly to Luis as if she has asked the question. "Robert Helm aided in the escape of the pueblo's most notorious criminal, Senora," he said. "I can not let that action go unpunished." Luis was pleased to see his housekeeper drop her gaze in deference to his authority in this matter. She was also a commander in her own way, she knew order had to be maintained. "Corporal Cruz is taking over the care of my wound under the doctor's advisement. Make sure he is brought straight to me when he arrives."
"The groom?" Her scepticism boarded on insolence, but Luis could see the concern underlying it.
"Salaan has never had so much as a stone bruise while under his care."
"Si, Senor. If that is what you think best, of course. I will bring him up myself." She still looked doubtful but Luis was in no mood to indulge her. It was going to take all of his rapidly fading strength to reach his chambers. His hand had just gripped the banister when the mayora stopped him again. "Coronel?" He paused, turning his head just enough to see the senora toying with the edge of her apron. "Emilia told me the doctor had not even finished his breakfast -- not that a piece of fried bread is much of a meal. But perhaps--"
This brought Luis around completely, rolling his eyes in disgust. "If there was ever a doctor in need of his own nursemaid, it is that one. Deliver my excellent luncheon to the jail, Senora. I do not have an appetite today. Breakfast was agreeable; something similar for mid-day will be sufficient."
"And if the guards should ask me...about the food?"
The woman was sharp, though given his evening visitor and the state of his room.... And she was far more tactful than Grisham. Her loyalty and discretion were the main reasons he valued her service. She seemed to be yet another ally of the noble Englishman as well, making it doubtful that she would do anything that would put the man at risk. Luis was about to convey that to her when he saw Emilia passing through the courtyard with an armful of what was likely Robert's laundry. Luis made sure his voice would carry. "I cannot believe that any member of my staff would be afraid of something as insignificant as an armed soldier?"
He saw the maid duck her head in embarrassment as she passed through the back gate and that Senora Santiago had noted it all. He sent the confused woman a small smile; she would get the rest of the story out of Emilia and Robert would receive what was likely his first decent meal in days.
Looking up the staircase, it seemed to have grown, and by the time he reached the top Luis was sure it had. There was no reason that a few stairs should cause sweat to trickle down his back. The vague dizziness he had been enduring since leaving the jail had increased with the exertion of the climb so that he found it necessary to run a hand along the corridor wall to keep from stumbling like a drunk as he made his way to his room. Sanctuary! He stripped off his clothes and pulled on the waiting nightshirt, shivering as the cool cloth brushed his skin. The bed seemed unusually cold as well as he fell onto it, and the blankets ridiculously heavy. The trip to the jail must have sapped what little strength he had gained with the night's rest and the tonic. The wound seemed to be holding up well though, he hadn't seen any tell tale patches of red on the bandage. Luis lifted his hand his wrapped shoulder. For the second time today, he found an unexpected warmth.