Read Stronger Than Passion for Free Online Page B

here?” Malone persisted.
    “No! Stop!”
    “How about here?” His hand switched to her other breast.
    “No! Dios, stop . . .”
    Why was he doing this? Had he gone mad? Now, his mouth grazed hers, the touch feather-light. She turned her head to escape, blinking back tears of humiliation.
    “Did he, Señora?”
    “No, no - do you want to hear it again? No! Santa Anna was never my lover!”
    “Where are his letters?” His lips sought her once more, and the kiss this time was harder. His beard scraped her, his tongue went probing, in a way that took her breath until he stopped. His hands cradled her face, holding it still. “The letters, Christina?”
    “I don’t have them! You’ve looked, haven’t you? They’re gone, destroyed . . .”
    “Destroyed?”
    He raised up. His hands left her as well. When she looked at him, in defiance and confusion and outraged dignity, his expression was cold.
    “You destroyed the letters.”
    “I threw them away, yes. Now go! Or I’ll have you hunted and caught before you can leave Mexico!”
    “I’m sure that’s what you intend anyway.” Why was he staring at her like that - angrily, as though she were the contemptible one? His jaw was set with a kind of bitterness she couldn’t begin to understand. His attitude was now judgmental, condemning of her! When he -
    “One day, Patrona,” he said softly, sarcastically, “I hope you realize what a dangerous fool Santa Anna really is. A killing fool. But then, maybe you don’t want to know, and wouldn’t care if you did. I’ve known plenty of women like you before - only concerned with collecting ‘friends’ in high places. Although, if I were you, I wouldn’t count on Santa Anna remaining in power for long. America is going to win the war with Mexico, and Santa Anna’s going to be out of a job - if he isn’t dead.”
    He leaned against the bedpost for an instant.
    “Goodbye, Señora. And thanks for the hospitality.”
    He walked to the door, opened it, and left the room.
    Oddly, Christina didn’t even think to cry out for help until it was far too late to attempt any pursuit, and Jim Malone was long-gone.
    He had, she discovered later, taken the maid Dorotea with him. What he left behind remained intangible, but disturbing just the same.
     

Chapter 3
    For the last mile, torchlight brightened the roadway. For ten miles, in four directions, soldiers patrolled the area, scaring away robbers and providing honor guards to the most distinguished travelers. Peasants lined the road in the early evening, gaping at the variety and splendor of the vehicles, while the local Indians sold food and pulque.
    They were all coming. The influential; the schemers; and the curious . . . all were en route to pay homage to the man of the moment, actually the man of many moments. Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna - the Savior of the State, once and future President; a man alternately admired and vilified, around whom controversy swirled with all the vigor he could place into the stirring. A man who seemed to typify, all at once, both the glory and the vainglory of Mexico.
    Most of the guests were invited, but some were not. They came from Mexico City, Vera Cruz and Puebla, from haciendas four days distant. As all Mexico seethed with anxiety over the war and how to wage it, as the government raged ineffectually over money and the lack of it, as the generals argued amongst themselves, and the soldiers wondered how ammunition and supplies were going to appear so they could fight at all . . . somehow, hope had to rest with Santa Anna. Everyone felt that he alone could manage to straighten things out. He had done it before - - he would do it again. Viva Santa Anna! He would drive the invaders off Mexican soil!
    Gracious El Encero, Santa Anna’s favorite abode, shone with a white-washed lustre that reflected its master’s own. Christina observed the house from several yards away through the window of the carriage, during the slow queue up the drive