The Bastard Read Free Page A

Tis said that long ago, when the British defeated the Spanish Armada, many's the Spanish sailor who washed up alive on shores of my birth-land."
     
    "Ah, the Armada. A humiliating defeat for Spain ." The white-haired don shook his head. "Many thanks for delivering this to me. You will spend the night, of course."
     
    Diarmid, who'd had his fill of camping, thanked him and agreed.
     
    The silent old woman appeared and led him upstairs to a bedroom, painted white, with bright red and yellow mats on the plank floor and left him there. His belongings from his saddle bags were already piled neatly on a chest at the end of the bed. To his surprise, someone had placed a white rose in a silver vase on the square wooden table by the bed, its delicate fragrance sweetening the air. Though he couldn't be sure, he doubted the old woman, clearly a servant, was responsible for the rose.
     
    Rising hair on his nape again warned that someone watched him. Quickly striding to the open door, he stepped into the shadowy hallway, lit only by candles in iron sconces. Something moved to his right--the slight figure of a lass , dressed in white, hurrying away. Before he could move or speak, she slipped through a door and was gone.
     
    Did the don have a wife? A daughter? Could the watcher have been a curious servant? Diarmid shrugged and, yawning, turned away. It made little difference. Tired as he was, he hoped whomever she was she didn't mean to creep into his bed--at least until he'd had a bit of rest.
     
    Diarmid woke at cock-crow . He lay quietly for a moment, savoring the clean, soft bed. The cock's crowing had taken him back to his childhood. When he had his land, he'd make certain to raise chickens--for the fresh eggs, if for no other reason.
     
    After he dressed and came downstairs, a middle-aged woman he hadn't seen before served him ham, beef and beans. When he'd eaten all he could hold, a man-servant entered the dining room. "Don Francisco awaits you, sir," he said in Spanish.
     
    The old don waited in a courtyard where birds sang in flowering bushes and trees, exotic scents perfumed the air. Diarmid, caught off guard by the unexpected beauty of his surroundings, blurted, " Paradise must have been like this!"
     
    Obviously pleased, Don Francisco smiled. "Would you like to have me show you the rest of my holdings?"
     
    "I'd be honored , sir."
     
    As they turned to re-enter the casa, Diarmid saw a lass in white hurrying down the corridor ahead of them. His watcher of last night? Had she been secretly observing him again?
     
    "Concepcion!" the don called and she stopped, turning slowly.
     
    Diarmid, who'd been intrigued by the idea of a lass spying on him, was disappointed. From her slight figure, he'd expected her to be young and perhaps pretty. Instead, she looked to be at least forty, sallow and plain, her dark hair pulled into a knot at the back of her lace-covered head. Her brown eyes flicked one timid glance at him, then didn't meet his gaze again.
     
    The don introduced her as his daughter, Senorita Gabaldon. A spinster , then. Rather a surprise. Though she was no beauty, Don Francisco must be able to provide a lavish dowry. What had kept suitors away?
     
    She fancied him, that was plain. As for him, even if she'd been a beauty, he wouldn't dream of laying so much as a finger on Don Francisco's daughter if she begged him on bended knee. Californios , he'd learned, took offense if a man so much as looked sideways at their lasses. Luckily the senor who'd challenged him had a terrible aim.
     
    He greeted her courteously and dismissed her from his mind.
     
    Mounted on Bruce, Diarmid rode with the don to the treeless hill behind the hacienda. Since he'd traveled from El Doblez in the gathering dusk, he hadn't really seen the rancho. When the don reined in his black stallion at the summit, Diarmid pulled up beside him.
     
    "From here one sees most of the property," Don Francisco said with a wave of his hand.
     
    As