Chapter 8

Victoria climbed the stairs with the tray carefully balanced on her hand. She knocked softly on the door to the room Diego had rented for the night, but there was no answer. She let herself in and placed the tray of food on the nightstand. Diego was probably still outside watching all the commotion. But he would soon be in and be ready for his meal.

She smiled to herself as she turned down the bed covers for him. He had been so charming lately. Not at all like the Diego she was used to seeing. Perhaps their lessons were changing him. Soon he would be ready to declare his love to this other woman in his life. The smile left her face. Somehow the idea bothered her, but she couldn't imagine why. It was probably just because she didn't know who the woman was. Once he told her, and she was sure the woman was right for Diego, everything would be just fine. A bumping noise from the next room caused her to spin around toward the door.

The noise had come from her own room!

She quickly closed the door to Diego's rented room and opened that of her own. When she caught sight of the black-clad form sprawled across her bed, she stepped inside swiftly and closed the door behind her.

"Zorro!" She was both excited and shocked to see him there, lying across her own bed.

He raised his head. "Vic…tor..ya!" His speech was slurred and thick. "Hi!" He smiled a lop-sided grin and his head flopped back down onto the bed.

She stepped forward and the smell of whiskey hit her like a fist. Her mouth dropped open. It was all she could do not to raise her voice. "Why, you're drunk!"

"D-Dwunk? No… I …not….so very…" His muttered words were barely audible, lost in the covers on the bed.

For a full minute, Victoria stood transfixed and unbelieving of the sight before her.

Then she crossed over to the bed to where her hero lay face down. She stooped down to pick up his hat and gloves off the floor and placed them on the nightstand. Then she slowly sat down on the edge of her bed beside him and wondered what in the world she was going to do with him. Noises from the street drifted in through the open window. The lancers were still looking for Zorro! She flew to the window, closed, latched it firmly and drew the curtains shut. With one last, long look at the sleeping man on the bed, she left the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

Teresa was finishing up in the kitchen and she raised an eyebrow when she saw Victoria start preparing a pot of coffee at such a late hour. But she knew better than to ask why. There was a very determined look on her employer's face.

Half an hour later, Teresa had gone and Victoria was locking up the tavern for the night. She carried the tray containing the coffeepot and cups up the stairs and stopped at the door next to her own.

"Diego?" she said softly. But there was no answer. She knocked once more and when there was still no answer, she turned the knob. The bed had not been slept in and the tray of food lay untouched. "Men!" she huffed aloud. She really needed Diego's help tonight. Why had he not done as he'd said he was going to do and stay in town! She shut the door and returned to her own room. Zorro had not stirred.

"Zorro!" She kept her voice low and shook him vigorously by the shoulders and still he did not stir. Finally, she used all her might to roll him over onto his side. "Zorro, you must wake up!" She slapped at his cheeks to rouse him and his eyelids flickered open.

"Hi." He drew out the short word into a full three syllables. He only managed to keep one eye open as he looked at her and grinned. "What… you…doin'…my…room?" He shook a playful finger at her, or tried to, for she slapped his hand away with her own.

"This is my room and you have to get hold of yourself!" Reaching over, she poured a cup of the steaming, strong black coffee. When she tried to prop him up just enough so that he could drink, he pushed away the cup. "No, drink it!" He gave her a hurt look when she placed the cup firmly before his lip, but he began sipping the hot liquid cautiously, making faces between sips.

"Yechhk! Don't like … coffee." But he continued to drink when she flashed her sternest look at him. Inwardly, she was making mental notes rapidly. She only hoped she could sober him up so that he would be able to look after himself. An occasional shout still came from the streets. A good indication that Zorro was still being hunted, she thought grimly The Alcalde was not above forcing himself into her very bedroom to see if she were hiding him. She was surprised she hadn't heard a banging on her door already, with De Soto demanding to know if Zorro were inside.

She watched him as he drained the cup and then promptly poured him another. He groaned when he saw what she was doing. "No… no more!" he whimpered like a child.

"Yes! You will drink every drop!" She still spoke in a whisper but she did it with such force, he could hear the shouting in it. He took the cup like a little boy doing his mother's bidding. This man who had many times held off a full quartel of lancers could not meet her angry gaze. It was then that her heart began to soften toward him, and she let her hand slip down and pat his knee. As she once more reached for the empty cup to take it from him, she saw the blood on her own hand.

Her sharp intake of breath at the sight of the unexpected red caused a reaction in him as well. His body tensed and he didn't appear nearly as inebriated as he had only moments before.

"What is it?" His breathing had quickened and his hand on her shoulder was strong.

"You're bleeding!" She searched for the wound, her hands roving over every inch of black silk across his chest and abdomen. She was frantic now. He was hurt!

"Oh, that… it's my leg," he said nonchalantly, as if he were talking about the weather.

"Your leg! Let me see!" He obediently raised up the leg high up off the bed, disregarding all sense of modesty and decorum. The trouser leg was rent from just below the waistband to well below the knee, and the long red gash showed through plainly. "Oh, my God!" She rushed over to the pitcher and bowl of water and grabbed a cloth from underneath the stand. "This looks like a saber cut, a very long saber cut." She was stunned. She couldn't remember a time when anyone had ever so much as touched Zorro with a saber. It was hard to believe anyone could do this to him! "Who did this?"

He lowered his head and looked up through long, thick lashes behind the black mask. "I did." He looked almost ashamed to make the admission. "I did it… when I tried to resh…reshea…" He stumbled over the word, decided it was too hard to say and substituted, "…put away my sword." He looked up at her and blinked several times. "I missed."

"Well, you certainly did." She fought hard to keep a straight face. But one look down at the now bloodied cloth in her hand and the impulse to laugh left. That wound had to be tended. She coaxed him to move around on the bed so that she could straighten the leg out in front of her to work. The material hung so loosely about the leg, she had to keep rearranging the cloth to keep him covered. She wasn't sure just how drunk he really was and he was watching her closely. Dipping the end of the cloth in the cool water, she washed away the blood gently. She watched his reaction out of the corner of her eye. He winced once or twice as she dabbed at the wound. She had just about gotten the bleeding stopped when she felt his right hand reach up to her neck. She had already instinctively leaned into his grasp when the hand firmly guided her head down towards his.

"Zorro!" But his lips met hers before she could protest further. His mouth groped hungrily for hers and the kisses deepened and grew rougher at the same time. She could smell the alcohol on his breath and taste it lingering in his mouth. But soon, for once, she became lost in his passion. She threw the damp cloth aside and her hands gripped his strong neck. Her fingers entwined in the bit of his hair available to her and they worried at the edges of the mask.

This was the passion from him she had wanted for so long. But was it fair? Would he even remember this later? It would be so easy for her to just pull the end of the scarf that made up the mask and… Then the thought slipped from her mind as his tongue edged its way even further into her mouth. His hands seemed to find every sensitive inch of her skin and caress it. They teased her sleeves down off of her arms and his mouth traveled slowly down from hers, along her throat and onto the bare, soft shoulders.

She was losing all sense of time and propriety. And she didn't care. This was what she wanted above all else. And, for the moment, so did he.

A loud rap sounded at the door downstairs. Her head jerked toward the sound, but Zorro never missed a beat in his caressing and touching. She pulled away from him, but his strength held her. "No!" she said firmly, and the sound of her voice drew his thoughts away from her inviting body. He looked up at her confused and still not quite himself. The coffee had not yet had time to cancel out the effects of the whiskey.

She pulled him to his feet and he groaned softly as he stood on the wounded leg. "Shh! You must be quiet!" She led him over to the massive old oak wardrobe and opened the doors. "Get inside! Hide behind the clothes and don't make a sound! Do you understand?" He nodded automatically and did as she said. Once he was inside the wardrobe, she began gathering the various parts of his costume that were scattered about the room. She opened the doors and threw the hat, gloves, and baldric in at him. Then she gathered all the bloodied cloths. tossed them in a drawer, and quickly rearranged the bed covers so all the stains were hidden. Casting a quick glance in the mirror just to make sure every article of clothing was in place and her looks presentable, she went down to answer the door.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" She opened the door to see the Alcalde surrounded by several lancers, swords drawn and pistols ready. "Alcalde! I see you still search for Zorro!"

She laughed. "Did he get away again!"

"Sergeant, search the tavern. Search every room!"

"Sí, mi Alcalde!" Mendoza shot a quick apologetic glance at Victoria and the men scattered throughout the tavern.

"Alcalde! I have customers tonight! You cannot search the rooms! You will be disturbing them and the hour grows late!"

De Soto looked slyly at the señorita who stood there indignantly, with cheeks high in color. "I think there is only one room we need search upstairs! Mendoza! Search Señorita Escalante's room, if you please. Every inch! If Zorro is here, that is where he will be found!

Victoria had to stand there and pray that they wouldn't find him. He was in no shape to resist arrest. Please, God, protect him for me! A full five minutes went by as the men searched her room. When Mendoza and the others came out with their hands held up in the air and proclaimed he wasn't there, she heaved a heavy sigh of relief. But at the back of her mind, the worry began. Where was he? Why didn't they find him? She watched the Alcalde strut around and snoop around in her kitchen for a few more minutes before he finally ordered all the men back outside.

"I know you've sheltered him in the past, Señorita. If I ever find out you've helped him again, I'll see you hang. Do you understand?" She felt the menace in his voice as he leaned over her with the threat.

"Oh, yes. I understand more than you think, Alcalde!" Flashing him a defiant look, she slammed the door in his face. She collapsed in relief against the heavy wood before she could gather the strength back into her legs to go upstairs again and see what she would find.

They had left the door open and she ran into the room and straight to the wardrobe to throw open the doors. But he wasn't there. She looked around the room helplessly. The window was still shut. She stood there bewildered for just a moment before she looked back towards the window and saw the latch hanging loose. Then she ran to the window and opened it. When she looked to the right, she saw him clinging to the ledge that ran along the upper floor of the building. He was now closer to the window of the room next door. She closed the window and flew to the room Diego was supposed to have stayed in for the night. When she opened the window there, she found him still holding on as if for dear life. His face was only about three feet away and he looked over at her as she reached for him to pull him into the room.

"I don't… feel… so good." The look on his face was poor misery. Sober, a climb up this wall was child's play to the man. But drunk, wounded and feeling sick, it probably looked like a mountain to him. It was clear that she had to get him in quickly.

"Here, take my hand! If the soldiers see you…" A black-gloved hand reached for her small one and she pulled with all her might. He fell into the room with a loud thud and she quickly prayed that no one had heard. Between the commotion of the Alcalde's men and tonight's antics of Zorro, her poor guests were probably having a sleepless night. She helped him towards the bed. It was so strange to see him this way. Drunken customers were something she had grown used to and knew how to handle. But this was one man she had never expected to see in this condition. She would have bet her life against the odds of this happening. "How do you feel?" He only groaned softly in reply as he leaned back against the pillows. "Stay here while I go get the coffee."

"No!… No more coffee. Just stay… with me." He sounded a bit more normal and he grabbed for her hand and held it tightly. "Stay." He watched her through heavy-lidded eyes that pleaded with her. "Stay." He said again.

"Very well, I'll stay." She smiled down at him as he closed his eyes. Then she sat on the side of the bed and placed a hand on his stomach and began to slowly rub back and forth. "Better now?" She asked, but there was no answer. He looked so vulnerable right now. More than ever, she wanted to see the face beneath that mask. The temptation was so great to remove it. But she resisted.

Her eyes moved about the room as she thought and they lit on the tray of cold food. "Diego!" involuntarily, she had said the name aloud in disgust. Zorro's eyes flew open and she felt his body tense beneath her hand. He had such a surprised look on his face, she felt she had to explain. "Diego was supposed to rent this room tonight. But he didn't stay. He is so undependable! I prepared that meal for him for nothing. And you and I could have used his help tonight. Sometimes, he makes me so—"

"So what?"

"—So mad! And don't think you're going to get off that easy either, Señor Zorro!" She smiled as she threatened him and began once more the light, rhythmic rubbing of his stomach. "I am not understanding you tonight any better than I do Diego. What on earth possessed you to allow yourself to get drunk? You! Of all people! I am so surprised, not to mention, disappointed."

"I did not mean—"

"You know, you could have gotten yourself killed tonight! When other men drink too much, they might risk getting hurt in a fist fight or a brawl. But you! You get drunk and then face a wall of lancers armed with pistols and the Alcalde with a sword! For an intelligent man, you were awfully stupid tonight!"

"Yes, well…"

"Many things can drive a man to drink, but you can't afford that luxury. What is troubling you that you would risk your life for a chance to escape it?"

"You don't think… I have… any problems?" he asked quietly, his speech still slurred.

"I wouldn't know, would I?" She looked down at her hands. "I really know nothing about you."

"You know more than you know about me." He smiled such a sweet mischievous smile at her that she laughed.

"Oh, that makes a lot of sense. I guess now is not the time to ask you any serious questions."

He gave her an even bigger grin. "I'd rather not talk." He placed his hand on hers and then looked at it in surprise. He still had on his gloves! Tugging at one and then the other he tried most unsuccessfully to shed himself of either. She watched him struggle, trying hard to control her laughter.

"Here, let me." She tugged at one herself and then saw the problem. When he had put them back on in her room, while she had been downstairs, he had put them on the wrong hands. They were far too tight this way. With some effort, she managed to remove the gloves. "Let's check our boots, shall we?" But they, thankfully, were on the correct feet. She gave each a tug and they slid off with ease. She placed them at the foot of the bed and when she turned back around, she was startled. The cloth on his left leg had fallen away to reveal a long, lean muscular leg and thigh. The gash showed dark red, but the bleeding had stopped. Her eyes traveled, against her will, on up the leg to the upper thigh and hip displayed to perfection for her eyes only. She swallowed hard. She knew she needed to just tuck him in and let him sleep off the effects of the liquor. "Isn't that better?" She said it cheerfully, readying herself for the next struggle of getting him under the covers without too much display of flesh. She wasn't sure she could take much more of this.

He nodded and patted the spot on the bed beside him. She shook her head, smiling, but she took her place there once more. "Much better." His voice was different. Not so deep, for one thing. And it struck a chord deep within her. It almost reminded her of…but the thought remained unfinished as he said, "Now, where were we…" He put his hand to her neck once again and it had the same effect on her as before. Soon they were wrapped in each other's embrace and drowning in each other's kisses.

When she felt him lose total control, she hesitated. He had always been the one to reign in their passions before. She had always been more willing than he. But this time was different. He wasn't himself, and she felt some guilt at letting him continue. She knew very well the power alcohol could have over a man and she didn't want him to do anything he'd be sorry for in the morning. She loved him and wanted him with all her heart. But was that enough? She also wanted him as a husband. So she pulled away and he was brought back into the present. He frowned and complained, "It's hot in here."

"It probably is hot with that mask on. You could take it off." She reached up and smoothed her hands over the mask and traced the contours of his face underneath.

"Nice try," he grinned and said, "but I'm not that drunk!"

"Are you sure? I might be able to talk you into it." She slipped a finger underneath the edge on either side of his face and placed a long, leisurely playful kiss on his lips.

"You might at that." He sighed deeply and settled back into the pillow comfortably. He was asleep almost instantaneously. Then it was her turn to let out a long, slow sigh.

Knowing he'd sleep for hours, she settled down in the chair to see if she could get some sleep as well. She had no intention of going back to her own bed and leaving him alone. He had asked her to stay.