The next morning, I stepped into the dining room, expecting to see a bustling breakfast. Instead, I found Carlos, sitting alone. The room had a large wooden table set with eight chairs. There was a cabinet, and brightly colored rugs draped on the wood floor.
He stood as I walked in, his long stride reached me in seconds so he could pull out my chair. “Good morning, Corazon. You look as beautiful as a sunrise,” he said, gazing at my orange morning gown, a dazzling smile on his lips.
He looked as mesmerizing as the night before in a dark vest and pants. A light-blue, long-sleeved shirt highlighted his sun-kissed skin. “Good morning. Did I oversleep? Where is everyone?”
He shook his head. “My family and I decided, prior to your arrival, that they would all scatter between various family members after the wedding to give us some privacy and provide them the opportunity to spend time with loved ones.”
“But who will manage the rancho?”
“My father and I planned to ensure the foreman could manage. And I am still here to tackle any issues that can arise. They will be gone for a month.”
“Oh, it is a shame I will not see them before I depart.”
Carlos grinned and took his seat. “They all wanted me to relay their happiness in having you in our family. They are aware of our agreement and look forward to seeing you soon.”
I pursed my lips, not ready to argue. It seemed like everyone expected me to abandon my plans and my sister. I did not belong here.
“I would like to show you the rancho today. As soon as we breakfast, we can leave.”
“That sounds nice.”
The staff emerged from the kitchen, carrying a variety of plates.
The scents made my mouth water. “What is this?” I asked, as a full plate was placed in front of me.
“It is one of my favorite dishes. Chilaquiles Verdes, eggs and beans.”
“Is this breakfast?”
“It is typical. If you are uncomfortable, I could have the kitchen prepare you something more…American.”
“No. I like to explore new things.” I took the first bite, the flavors swirling on my tongue. The green sauce had some spice, but the beans and the eggs helped keep it at bay. It was delicious. “What are these strips made of?”
“They are corn tortillas.”
“Tortila?”
“No. It is more like tor-tea-ya”
“Tortileeya.”
He chuckled. “Close enough, Corazon.”
“You have called me that since we first met. What does the word mean?”
His gaze swept over my face. “It means, my heart.”
My stomach fluttered, and I looked away. “Oh.” Was the only response I had.
I enjoyed every bite of our meal, marveling at the new flavors, clearing my plate
“Come. Let me introduce you to the rancho.”
* * *
“How vast is El Ocaso?” I asked, my gaze roaming the land.
Carlos jiggled the reins, and the horse sprinted, jerking the open wagon we sat in.
“It spans from the hills up north to the ocean,” he said.
I gasped. “To the ocean?”
“Yes, El Ocaso is one of the few intact ranchos left.”
“Left? Have many sold?”
“Some sold, while others could not establish their status as rightful owners.”
“How would you do so?” I asked, watching the sun lighten his dark hair.
His lips drew into a straight line and a hard tone appeared in his words. “A land survey and documentation are the only way to prove rights provided by the act.”
I shook my head. “That sounds dreadful, losing land that was rightfully yours.”
For a split second his profile hardened and grew cold. I grasped my seat as we climbed over a welt on the road which shuttered the wagon. “Has the land been in your family for long?”
“A few generations. The land grant was awarded to my grandfather by Mexico’s governor Figeroa about seventy years ago.”
“How have you kept it all intact?” I asked.
He brought his dark eyes to mine. “It has not been an easy road. We began with cattle, even raising prize bulls. We sold the hides, and then the head of cattle became highly profitable during the gold rush and later the war. There were many cattle drives to markets all around California back in those days.” He wiggled the reins harder, and we sped up the road. “After that, we harvested grapes and made wine until there was a flood and later a plague that destroyed every vine. Luckily, we recently pivoted and focused on oranges. We are thriving now.”
“That sounds like a journey,” I said, watching the love he had for his land display on his face.
“Yes, it was. The railroad has been instrumental in keeping us in business. We still export cattle, and most of our orange harvest is transported to the plains and the East Coast.”
The wagon trembled over the rough terrain, and I instinctively reached for his arm to steady my posture. I looked up at his wide smile. I sat up straight, looking away from his warm gaze. “And what is your role in the family business?”
“I have many roles, but my focus is the orange grove. I draft the contracts, fulfill them, and oversee the day-to-day operation with the support of family. My sister is also my right-hand woman.”
“Your sister?” I asked, my eyes widened and my mouth gaped.
“Yes, Alva has a great head for numbers.”
“I love that you allowed her to exceed societal expectations of what a woman should be capable of.”
“I did not allow her anything. She took it herself, shocking everyone with her impressive mathematical skills and business acumen. Truthfully, Alva is more capable than most men who have held that position. The family agreed she was right for the job. Unfortunately, women are overlooked to the detriment of many businesses.”
My breath caught at his words. I stared at his chiseled profile, wondering what other beliefs we shared. “I agree. Women are very much overlooked.”
He gave me a knee buckling smile, then turned to the winding road. “I think you and Alva will be great friends.”
“I would like to keep in touch with her. I will write.” I said, shifting uncomfortably, trying not to lean into him.
He turned and raised a perfect eyebrow. “You will not be that far away.”
I sighed. “Carlos, I am leaving.”
He chuckled. “If you say so.”
The man was incorrigible or delusional. Sure, he had wealth, looks, muscles, charm, ambition and the belief that women could run businesses, but that was beside the point. I belonged in New York with my sister. I would be leaving, with or without his permission and money. My churning thoughts were abandoned as the sweet scent of orange blossoms greeted us. We rode around the vast orchard, marveling at the lovely sight of blooming trees. Soft rays of the morning sun enhanced their beauty. “It is a beautiful view.”
“I am enjoying my view,” he said, looking at me once again.
My cheeks grew warm at his obvious admiration.
Carlos chuckled at my reaction. “There is one more place I would like to show you today.”
For a full hour, the wagon traveled through a makeshift road through trees and vegetation while the sun curved across the sky. Carlos shared details of the ranch, his passion and love for the land clear in every word. The short and narrow seat jiggled through the uneven road, shifting my body, and sent my side against his warmth again. I tried to hold myself steady, but I failed. I became aware of every muscle he moved, enjoying his closeness. At the realization, I sat up straight and tried to push away.
“We are just around the bend,” he said, leading us off of the path, clearly unaffected by our bodies’ closeness.
I looked across and gasped as a small cabin appeared. Running water sounded in the distance. “How charming.” I took in the neat log cabin, straight out of a fairy tale.
“It was built by a squatter in my youth. My father was so impressed by the craftsmanship he hired him to build the rancheria, where many employees live. These were a great help since the original adobes were not big enough to house the growing numbers.”
“I noticed that you have a variety of employees,” I said.
“Yes, we hire anyone with good moral standing and willing to work. We have Mexican, Irish, Indians, and Chinese.”
“They all live with each other?”
He slowed our pace. “They have built their own communities within the rancho. However, many have intermarried over the years.”
“Is that not frowned upon?”
He took his eyes off the road to glance at me. “Love is never frowned upon on this side of the world.”
“Love? That is refreshing,” I said, watching him return his focus back to the road and pull the rein. I took a deep breath and asked the question that brewed in my chest. “Carlos, why did you marry me?”
He returned his glance, then took his own deep breath. “My father suggested that it might be a good choice to marry an Anglo woman. The union would defuse the resentment and distrust from the newcomers.”
”Oh. So you were forced into this marriage, as well,” I said, the news not sitting well with me. “Why is there such distrust and resentment?”
“Many believe when this land was lost to the United States, that all Mexicans should have been sent back to Mexico, leaving their wealth to be distributed. Although, under the eyes of the law, we are now Americans, the newcomers still see us as outsiders.”
I furrowed my brow. How unfair it would be to be considered an outsider in your home. “I am sorry you have to deal with that.”
He nodded. “Thank you. Now, regarding marriage, I would never be forced to do something I did not want to. I kept the idea in the back of my mind. When I met your father, I saw his lovely portrait of you. I knew you were going to be mine the minute I laid eyes on you, regardless of your color.”
I scoffed; yet, butterflies swarmed in my belly. “But you did not know who I was. Or if I would be willing.”
“Call it intuition. I knew you would be perfect, and I was right. You will find a home here.”
“Are you telling me our agreement is off?” I asked, my body stiffening.
“No. Our agreement stands. You will stay.”
I huffed. “Why would I if I am no longer forced? I want my life back, and everything I have worked for. That is all I need.”
“Because you will soon realize I can offer exactly what you really need.” Carlos stopped the wagon a few yards away from the cabin, then dismounted, offering his hand.
I took his strong grip, my brain trying to wrap around his audacity and not focus on the tingle that accompanied our touch. “And what would that be?” I asked as my feet landed beside him.
“Someone who will never let you down and give you everything you want. Someone who will make your body quiver. Someone who you will crave. Me.”
I gasped, my mouth gaping. “Alva was right; you are so vain.” I said, warmth rising up to my face and other unmentionable areas.
He chuckled. “Knowing your worth and loving who you are doesn’t make you vain, Corazon. It makes you indestructible.” His smile widened at my speechlessness. Staring down at me, he unbuttoned his vest, placing it on the seat of the wagon, then did the same with his long sleeve and under shirt.
“What are you doing?” I roamed his smiling face, fighting the urge to look at his exposed chest. I lost the battle and glanced down, more heat rushing everywhere. His hard muscular body could make harlots swoon. My throat went dry.
He chuckled again. “You look even more delicious when your face becomes rosy.”
“What are you doing?” I repeated because just like Atlantis, all my other words had sunken out of reach.
He brought one finger to my lips.
As the urge to run my tongue across it assaulted me, I froze. This would not do. The Californian air must be disagreeing with me, causing these alarming thoughts. Perhaps the oxygen was low.
“Listen, Corazon.”
Soft yelps escaped from the rushing water. I strained to listen and turned, noticing a little fawn clinging to a rock in the center of the flow.
His mother paced at the edge of the water, helpless.
Carlos slipped out of his trousers, his white underclothing hugging a powerful frame. Without hesitation, he plunged into the water.
I turned my back, worried that a complete wet view of him would have me sprawled on the dirt face first.
Splashing and more yelps funneled through the sound of rushing water, then the force of the water drowned all noise.
I needed to look. The current could have taken Carlos. I turned and gasped at the sculpted body standing in front of me. His wet chest glistened in the sun and the drenched undergarment molded to him like a second skin. My gaze swept down, and the breath I was holding tried to choke me.
“Corazon, can you hand me my clothing?”
I had turned to stone, my vocabulary had evaporated like a sugar cube in scalding tea.
“Corazon?”
I could not make any move, fearing movement would buckle my legs.
“If you continue to look at me that way, I guarantee you will never want to leave,” he said huskily, walking past me and fetching his clothing. “The cabin has been cleaned and has a light lunch waiting. I will join you once I am dressed.”
I nodded, keeping my gaze on the ground. Praying that my legs would hold, I walked to the cabin, opened the door, then closed it behind me, leaning on the cold wood for support. I took a jagged breath. Temptation had reared its ugly head. Lord help me.