Chapter 6

Diego slept for ten hours straight. Felipe had been determined that his friend was going to get enough rest to get over his cold, so he had guarded his door like a King's Lancer. It was mid-afternoon before he emerged from his new room, ravenously hungry. His cold was much better.

Whatever was in that medicine of Consuela's had certainly made him sleep soundly. He made a mental note to analyze a sample of it later in his laboratory. It might prove interesting.

He dressed quickly as he began to realize just how late he had slept. There was so much to be done today. First, he had to see Victoria.

But Victoria had already left for the pueblo. Several of the vaqueros had accompanied her to offer their help wherever it would be needed. They had been given specific instructions to escort the señorita back to the hacienda if the tavern was not found to be habitable.

So Diego took the time to eat a hearty, but very late, breakfast before he started out for Los Angeles. Consuela hovered about him as he ate. She had been tempted to sneak some more of her secret potion into his food to force him back to bed, but she was finally reassured that his health was on the mend. And she was sure of it when she saw him sneak a bite of the flan she had prepared for supper. She playfully slapped at his hands which only caused him to laugh on his way out the door. He was definitely feeling better.

The tavern, with the exception of a few missing roof tiles, had escaped the wrath of the storm. But the quartel had not been so lucky during the second night of storms. One of the walls had collapsed, and the soldiers were already busy at the repairs.

Diego headed straight for the tavern. It was alive with business. The people working at repairs were all taking their meals at the tavern and there was a steady stream of customers. Victoria was busy in the kitchen and Diego went straight on in to see her.

"Maria, this is ready—"

When she looked up to find Diego, the dish she held fell to the floor. They both stood there staring into each other's eyes for a few seconds before both dropped to their knees at the same time.

"Here, let me do that. It was my fault for startling you." He took the cloth from her and began cleaning up the mess.

She watched his hands work and then the reality of what he was doing sank in and she quickly said, "No, no, you can't. It's not your place —" There was venom in her tone as she took the messy cloth from him, reached for another and began wiping his hands. "Please, Diego. I can manage —"

"I know, Victoria, you manage everything you do very well." He smiled at her and quickly retreated into the dining room. It was clear she was angry with him. He wasn't sure exactly why, but it was very typical of their relationship. It probably had something to do with his rising too late to escort her back into town. She had frequently made derogatory comments to him about his sleeping habits.

He sat at a table near the door and was soon joined by Sergeant Mendoza. The sergeant ordered a big plate of enchiladas while Diego nursed his tall glass of orange juice. The sergeant was full of news of damage reports all over the area. Mendoza carried the conversation all by himself, for the most part, as Diego watched Victoria out of the corner of his eye and nodded to him every few minutes to signal he was listening.

Victoria seemed to be moving about the room almost in a daze. She filled glasses here, removed plates of food there, but always with a smile that seemed forced. She came over to the table only once to ask the Sergeant if he desired anything else and avoided eye contact with Diego entirely. He made up his mind then and there, that tonight, Zorro would have to pay her a visit. Diego was obviously not going to be able to talk to her.

The weather was now just a matter of strong winds. The rains had finally let up and things were beginning to dry out nicely.

Zorro found his ride to town exhilarating. He only hoped it was going to be as thrilling on the way back. He didn't know what he was going to say to Victoria since he really didn't know what was wrong. Women could be so mysterious.

He knocked softly at the window and she answered quickly.

It was early tonight, not even ten o'clock yet. The danger he placed himself in was even greater this early in the evening. The lancers had not settled in their beds yet. She would know that as well.

He swung a leg over the sill and expected her to rush into his arms. But she held back. He could not even reach for her hand from that distance. He swung his other leg over and cautiously advanced toward her.

"Querida, I've missed you." He caught her hand in his and raised it to his lips. He felt her stiffen and the reaction shocked him. "Is there something wrong?" The mask couldn't disguise the concern in his eyes.

Blue eyes, Diego's blue eyes, stared at her from behind the mask. She didn't want to let him know that she had found out his secret. But she was so angry with him. She lowered her head to keep that piercing stare from reading her mind.

"No, nothing's wrong. I'm just very tired. I've had a rough few days and I'm tired. But I'm always glad to see you. Tonight is just not a good night for me. I had already made preparations for bed." She gestured towards the turned down bed covers. It was a weak excuse and she knew it. His visits usually rejuvenated her no matter how tired she was, and he would know that.

She watched him cross to the nightstand and pick up the book that lay there. "Ah! A fine book. You will enjoy this. Very inspiring and most quotable." He turned back to the window and she knew he was going to leave.

All at once, she knew she really wanted him to stay. Oh, this was so confusing. How could she bear being in the same room with him; and how could she bear for him to leave like this!

"Zorro! Don't go!" She ran to him then, and his arms folded around her in relief. "I've been in such a terrible mood lately. Forgive me if I seem..."

"Distant?"

"Yes." She stood on her tiptoes to reach his lips and tried to make up for her earlier coldness. His body responded to hers as it always did. Within a few more minutes, he knew he would have to be leaving before his response overwhelmed his judgment.

He made his farewells, fairly content that he had at least cheered up his lady by a small amount.

When he had left, Victoria turned to face the empty room. Her gaze lit and narrowed upon the book on the nightstand. It was the book she had been reading last week, and she hadn't touched it since then. She picked it up and saw the author's name. Alexander Pope.

A thought struck her and she started thumbing through the pages until she found the quote she remembered. There it was.

"Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always to be blest"

And then she saw the next line:

"Lo, the poor Indian! Whose untutor'd mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;"

Yes, Zorro had quoted the first lines and Diego had quoted the rest. But what did that mean? Had he really been trying to give her clues? And if he had been doing this all along, did he really want her to guess? Or did he know that his clues were so obscure as to be almost indiscernible? Or was he just careless and he couldn't remember what he had said to her in each of his identities? That was another possibility.

But none of it really mattered. None of it changed the fact that he was Diego de le Vega. A caballero. Someone totally, undeniably, out of her reach.

Again, she went to bed with tears in her eyes. All the questions danced before her eyes and in her mind as she fought for sleep. But there was one answer among all the questions. Whatever his intentions, and whoever he truly was, Diego or Zorro, she loved the man and she wanted him. She could just see no way it could ever happen.