Because You're Mine by Nan Ryan

Author:Nan Ryan [Ryan, Nan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781480467279
Google: 6XyVAgAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00HUILO3W
Goodreads: 20579148
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 1995-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Four

GENA DE TEMPLE WATCHED from inside the parked, closed carriage until the California Starlight pulled out of the San Juan Capistrano depot. She stayed where she was until Burt and Sabella, waving from the Silver Lining’s observation deck, became tiny specks in the distance. And then finally disappeared completely.

With the tip of her colorful silk parasol she tapped on the roof of the brougham. Dozing atop the box, old Julio jumped, startled, then put the matched bays in motion, turning the big rig about and heading out of the village.

Angry, upset, Gena de Temple went home to the haunting silence of a big empty mansion. Her father, the senator, was in Los Angeles. He had planned to be back by late evening, had invited his old friend, Don Miguel Andres Amaro, to come for dinner.

But a telegram, delivered while Gena was in the village, stated he was tied up and wouldn’t be back until sometime tomorrow.

Reading, then rereading the wire, Gena de Temple swore under her breath. She had no way to get word to Don Miguel that her father was out of town. The stocky, silver-haired Spanish grandee would show up for dinner. And she would have no choice but to entertain him.

Gena shrieked so loudly a half dozen servants came running. She angrily waved them away, shouting at them to “Leave me alone!”

She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs and keep screaming until she could scream no more. She did not feel like entertaining the don or anyone else. Her world had fallen apart. Her man had married another woman, leaving her to become a lonely, embittered old maid. How could she be expected to receive callers? She couldn’t and she wouldn’t! She was prostrate with grief. She would take to her bed and stay there in seclusion for as long as she pleased!

Gena shook her head, sighed wearily, and squared her slender shoulders determinedly.

She was, after all, a de Temple. The illustrious de Temple name, her lofty station in life carried a certain degree of duty and responsibility. Don Miguel Andres Amaro was a direct descendant of Cortez, Mexico’s famed Spanish conqueror, and highly respected among California’s elite. The polite, charming, fifty-eight-year-old childless widower was one of state’s richest men, and one of the most powerful.

She could hardly snub such an influential gentleman.

Promptly at eight p.m., Don Miguel Andres Amaro showed up at the de Temple mansion. The landed don arrived in a fine black carriage drawn by a quartet of high-stepping, spirited blacks. The horses’ trappings were heavy with gleaming silver ornaments fashioned by the most talented silversmiths in all of Mexico.

The portly don was dressed in his favorite Spanish grandee attire. His formal black charro suit was trimmed in flashing silver embroidery on the lapels and down the outside of each tight-fitting trouser leg. His shirt was snowy-white silk and a scarlet silk scarf was knotted at his stocky throat. His black boots had been polished to such a high gleam they

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