Hello all! Happy Sunday! Sorry for disappearing but with the holiday, I kind of lost track of time. This is another chapter where the flow didn't seem just right to be so I was also taking the time to improve it. I hope you had a good Thanksgiving if you are in the states and I also hope that you're ready for more. This is a long one too to make up for my absence. :)

So, enjoy!

Linny

Chapter Thirty-Six

He couldn't see where the knife had made its impact. He couldn't see where her injury was. All he knew was that her breathing was labored and she was whimpering in pain.

Reaching out to touch her, he rested a hand on the crown of her head to show her that he was at her side. Her eyes fluttered open and tried to focus on him, but they slammed shut again when she tried to move. "Don't," he urged while placing a steadying hand upon her shoulder. "Where are you hurt?"

She didn't give him an answer and he feared that she may have fallen unconscious from the pain. "Speak to me," he pleaded softly. His voice broke as it filled with an emotion he couldn't quantify.

This wasn't going to be the end for her. She was a fighter. She would make it through this. That was what he continued to tell himself as he begged her for a response.

"I..." she groaned as she tried to lay completely flat on her back. He could hear the way she tried to take deep breaths in through her nose as she fought to get her legs to cooperate.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zorro noticed that The Chameleon was skittering off toward his horse to ride away. He wanted to chase after him; to beat him within an inch of his life for everything he had done. But he also wanted to stay at her side. He was torn and didn't know what to do.

"It's just my leg," she finally gritted out through her clenched teeth. He was thankful to see her eyes open again and watched her reach down to grab hold of the blade sticking out of her right thigh. She let out a deep growl as she pulled it free and tossed it to the ground beside her. "I'll be alright."

He wished he could see her entire face at that moment because the tone of her voice certainly didn't match the words she was speaking. It sounded weak and held a waver to it.

"We have to get you somewhere safe." He heard the sound of retreating hoofbeats but ignored them. He had made his choice and she was it. Every single time, she would be his choice.

She shook her head at him as she sat up and pushed him away from her. "No. We have to go after him." She tried to stand back up, but her injured leg could no longer support her.

Even in the dimness of the night, he could see that she was bleeding quite badly. "You need to be taken to Doctor Avila." He moved in to scoop her up in his arms, but she shifted away from him.

"No."

He frowned at her and her damned stubbornness. "You can't even walk. How do you expect to fight him with one good leg?"

"I'll manage." She balanced all of her weight on her left leg and stood up. She wobbled slightly as she fought to maintain balance, but then looked triumphant when she turned to look at him. "There, you see? It's not so bad." She then tried to take a step, but her right leg instantly gave out on her. He quickly caught her and had her sling an arm around his shoulder for support.

He cursed under his breath as he half-carried her toward their horses. Why did she have to be so damn obstinate? "That's it. I'm getting you out of here."

"But, he's getting away!" she protested.

"He won't get far." He gave a soft whistle which both horses immediately responded to. She was puzzled when it was Tornado—not Wraith—that he led her to. He had her unwind her arm from his shoulder while he gripped her hips.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure you do as you're told," he muttered as he lifted her onto Tornado's back. He gritted his teeth against the constant white-hot burn in his side as he did something he probably shouldn't have. "Tornado knows the way home and also won't listen to you if you tell him to go another direction."

He made certain that she was safely settled into his saddle before he removed his cape from his shoulders. "He will get you home safely," he said as he began to rip at the fabric in his hands. The seams fell apart until he was able to pull the tie free. "As soon as you arrive, send one of the servants for the doctor." He tried not to look at her as he focused on his task. It was a task that was taking all of his willpower.

He wondered what he would see there if he dared a glance. Anger? Obstinacy? Or perhaps something else?

He was surprised by her lack of argument. He hadn't expected her to go quietly.

Lifting her leg up a bit, he tried to be gentle as she wrapped the cord around her thigh, just above her injury. Then he tightened it. She gasped in pain and tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't allow it. "This should help slow the bleeding. How does that feel? Is it too tight?" He finally managed a glance toward her now.

She didn't seem angry. In fact, she seemed in awe of him. "It feels good," she responded softly. There was something in her tone that told him her response wasn't just answering his question. He would have to ask her what she meant when this was all over.

"Keep her safe, Tornado," he was speaking to the horse now. "Take her home." The horse nodded in response to his request.

"Promise me one thing," she said as she took hold of Tornado's reins.

He raised an eyebrow in interest. "Of course."

"Whatever happens, don't kill him."

"Are you sure?" She told him that she'd dreamed of taking her revenge on The Chameleon. That he deserved so much more than a jail cell and a swift death. Seeing what he was capable of, he could understand how she could want such a thing.

She nodded. "I'm sure." He wondered just how painful that had been for her to say. "Just stop him from doing any more harm."

He met her gaze briefly before agreeing. "I will."

Saying nothing more, she kicked Tornado into motion. "Let's go Tornado."

Zorro watched as his horse picked up speed and disappeared into the darkness. A sense of relief washed over him now that he was certain that she was out of trouble. Still, there was much more work for him to do before he could join her.

A nudge at his shoulder reminded him that he was not alone. Turning, he was surprised to see Wraith so close to him. She had continued to be skittish around him since their first interaction in the canyon, but she seemed to now realize that he had her mistress's best interests at heart.

She chuffed in his ear and nuzzled his cheek.

"What do you say, chica? Will you help me finish this?"

The sound she made sounded like one of agreement to him, so he reached for the saddle horn and stepped into the stirrups. She didn't shy away and he allowed himself to climb up.

She wasn't immediately used to his weight, so she had to shift uncomfortably underneath him. He allowed her a moment to get used to him. Once he was confident that she wouldn't buck him off, he dug into her flanks. The animal instantly darted off like a shot.

El Camaleón had a decent head start, but his horse wasn't as swift as Wraith was. The outlaw found himself gripping tightly at her reigns in fear that he might fly off of her back. She was moving so quickly that he could swear that her hooves weren't even touching the ground.

It didn't take long to find the trail that was left behind. Dust from The Chameleon's horse was still settling as they went up the next rise. From there, they could see him in the distance. He was a mere speck on the horizon; a tiny silhouette against a pale, waning moon.

Wraith must have seen him too and had picked up her pace. The gap between them became smaller and smaller as the horse raced toward their foe. Meters quickly became feet, which became inches.

She didn't even give her rider the chance to act. The animal began to charge at The Chameleon's steed and knocked the man from his saddle. With Zorro still on her back, she reared up, stamping her feet down toward him.

El Camaleón rolled out of the way of her heavy feet and tried to run.

Before sending Tornado on his way, Zorro had grabbed his whip from the saddle and had curled it over his shoulder and across his body. Now, he unfurled it and sent it flying toward his prey. It wrapped around the man's ankle, tripping him up.

The Chameleon fell to the ground and struggled out of the whip's hold and tried to run again. This time, the whip circled the man's torso, catching around his arms as well. He would be unable to wriggle free again.

Dismounting, Zorro tied the whip into a knot until he was satisfied that it was secured.

"You think you've won, don't you?" the captured man muttered with a sneer as he tried to fight against his bonds.

Zorro could tell that he was about to break into more anger and vitriol. He had heard enough. When he opened his mouth again to spew some more foul and venomous words, he found himself reeling back and punching him square in the face.

The impact made The Chameleon's head whip back and slump against the ground. He was unconscious.

That had felt really good, Zorro thought to himself as he focused on his next task and hefted the limp man into his arms. He could hear Wraith's sounds of disapproval as he approached her with their quarry in his grasp.

"I know how you feel," he told the horse as he draped the unconscious man over her back. "But we only have to get him back to the garrison. Can you handle that?"snorted a snort in response. Which he took as her reluctant acceptance.

"Good." He climbed back into her saddle and took hold of the reins. "Now, the faster we get there, the faster we can drop him off."

That seemed to be all the incentive that she needed. She began to paw at the dirt as he got himself situated.

"Let's go then," he urged as he kicked her into motion.

Riding back into the pueblo was surreal. Where chaos and death had previously reigned, there was now an eerie and mournful quiet. His eyes burned with emotion as he rode through the streets and saw the amount of destruction around him. His home—the place he had sworn to protect—had been destroyed. His friends—allies—were either gravely injured or dead. He could hear children crying over the loss of their parents and widows wailing over the dead bodies of their husbands.

The atmosphere was very overwhelming. It made him want to cry alongside them.

This should never have happened. Guilt clawed at his gut as he blamed himself for the state of things. He should have found a way to stop this sooner. He should have stopped The Chameleon when he'd first discovered that he was an impostor.

But he hadn't realized how deep his connections went. He hadn't realized that he had corrupted so many of the soldiers. That he had garnered the attention of men who felt so downtrodden that they felt like attacking the cuartel was the only way for them to gain a better future.

He could pretend that he was the hero of the people, but yet at the same time, he had never really been one of them. All of his life he had had money and choices of who he wanted to be. He didn't know what it felt like to work to support his family or even what it felt like to go hungry.

He had once believed that his advantages could have been useful to the people. But in the end, he hadn't been able to protect them when it really mattered. He had been so naive. And he had failed them.

"Hold!" a man standing guard outside of the cuartel gates called to him as he approached. He was accompanied by two others, both brandishing muskets as he came closer. These men weren't soldiers. They wore wide-brimmed hats and silver stars shined off the lapels of their jackets. Marshals. "State your business."

He paused Wraith a few feet away from them to show them he meant no harm. "I assume Deputy Walker is inside, is he not?" he questioned.

"And if he is?"

"Tell him that I have a gift for him." Heaving the limp body of The Chameleon off of the horse's back, he shoved him to the ground.

They didn't have to look too closely to know that this man was the fugitive they had been searching for. One of the men with the muskets rushed to the guard house where he informed the man inside to open the gate.

"What is your name, señor?"

"Zorro!" a loud voice boomed in answer as the gate was opened. Sergeant Garcia stood there, looking tired and filthy as he stood beside Deputy Walker. It seemed that they were working together to secure the plaza and get things back in order.

The outlaw smiled at his friend, pleased to see that he didn't look too injured. "I'm pleased to see you safe, my friend" He watched as the Marshals dragged El Camaleón into the cuartel. The feeling was bittersweet. Yes, he was in custody and could no longer cause harm to others. But, then Zorro remembered all of the lives that were lost because of that demon of a man.

There were too many to count.

"Señor Zorro, huh?" William asked as his cool gaze seemed to study him.

The man in the mask could only imagine what he saw when he looked at him. He was surprised when William stepped forward. He didn't reach out toward the outlaw but instead placed a gentle hand upon Wraith's neck.

The Marshal tried to hide his smirk underneath the brim of his hat, but Zorro had seen and he knew what that meant. Wraith didn't shy away from William's touch like she did when she was unfamiliar with others. "You have done us a great service by getting this man into our custody. We owe you our thanks."

Had William figured him out? It made sense that Wraith would know and trust him seeing as though he was Olivia's brother. But the man on her back should have been a stranger. He would be anticipating an interrogation.

"I was only doing my duty," he tried to say, but as he spoke they all began to notice a crowd of people beginning to grow around him. The faces of the people in this group remained blank as they moved in, leaving him no way of escaping. He was uncertain of what was happening and Wraith was shifting nervously underneath him.

"Zorro?"

"Zorro."

"Zorro!"

They began to murmur his name. His guilt from earlier began to resurface as he anticipated their judgment. He waited for them to start shouting or to start throwing things. He hadn't expected what would come next.

"Viva, el Zorro!" one man cried out. And that was all it took for the rest of them to join him.

"Viva, el Zorro!" they all began to shout. "Viva! Viva!"

Fists began to fly up in the air as they cheered for him. The sight was overwhelming. He had feared that he had failed these people and yet they still loved him. He just couldn't wrap his head around it.

"They've been waiting to see you, Señor Zorro," Sergeant Garcia told him reverently. "They wanted to show their appreciation for you."

He had done nothing to earn their thanks, a small voice inside of his head told him. "I only did what was right," he explained as he continued to look on in awe at the sight of all of the faces who had gathered together to thank him.

"And that is all they have ever asked."

And that was when he knew that he could doubt his decisions all he wanted. But in the end, he had done what was right. He had stepped in when it was necessary; when the people needed him the most.

They didn't blame him for what had happened. So he shouldn't either.

"Gracias, Sergeant."

Using their cheers as a balm for his injured soul, he grasped hold of Wraith's reigns and reared her back. He waved to the people gathered there before kicking her into motion.

He could still hear their cheers as he left the city.

His side was on fire as he made his way up the hidden spiral staircase. He clutched at his wound and braved each painful step. He knew he was still bleeding, but had chosen to ignore it until he was safe at home. Now it was all he could think about as he made his way up to the secret room. That and the absolute relief that this nightmare was finally over.

Los Angeles was now under the mutual care of what remained of the army and the US Marshals. His home was safe once again.

He wondered what time it was as he passed by the entrance to the sala. Surely the servants would not still be awake. But he could hear talking coming from the other side of the wall.

Gritting his teeth, he leaned in close to listen.

"You are lucky that the knife hit you where it did," he recognized Emily's voice; just as quiet and composed as always. He wondered if that was because she rarely used it or because she couldn't actually hear how loud she was speaking. "A few inches to the right and you most likely would have bled out."

Peering through the hidden knot in the wall, he saw that she was with her mistress and that they were alone. He pushed at the secret door and stepped out into the open. He took in the sight of Olivia as she rested in his father's favorite chair. Now in the light, he could see various cuts and bruises marring her skin.

But she was safe and she was alive. That was all that mattered to him.

"What are you doing in here?" he questioned softly so as not to startle Olivia.

"Diego!" She gave out a cry of surprise when she saw him appear. She struggled to get to her feet with her injured leg and had to use the dining table to help her stand. Its surface was littered with blood-stained rags and there was a bowl that he could only assume had once been clean water.

"What if the servants come in and see this?"

Emily shook her head as she tried off her hands with the end of the apron she wore. It had once been white, by the look of it. "They were all asleep when I came back. This room had the most space and I didn't want to ruin your guest bedroom if surgery was necessary." She was drying off her tools and placing them back into a leather bag that looked a lot like the one Doctor Avila carried with him on house calls.

Diego was unaware that Emily was some kind of healer.

"No more talk about that, now," Olivia looked anxious as she looked at him. Her gaze was hopeful; as if her entire being mattered on the answer to her next question. "How did it go?"

He noticed the way she picked at her fingernails and reached out to soothe her worry. "He is in custody."

The relief that flooded her features was just as he expected. What he hadn't expected was for him to feel that same relief at that moment as well. Yes, he understood that it was over, but the idea of it had not entirely sunk in until that very second.

"Oh, thank God!" She hobbled over to him with the help of the table to steady her and hugged him. She squeezed him a bit too tight which caused him to hiss out in pain.

She immediately pulled away in shock. "I'm fine," he tried to reassure her.

She finally noticed the state of his shirt and reached out to tenderly touch his ribs. Her fingers came back coated with red. "You're bleeding!"

"It's only a scratch," he tried to shrug it off. He didn't care about his injury or his pain. All that he cared about was being there with her.

"Sit down on the sofa," Emily urged. She spread a clean white sheet over the upholstery and began to dig through her bag once again. He tried to wave her away, but when she realized that he hadn't followed her orders, she grabbed hold of him and forced him to sit. She was much stronger than she looked. "Take off that shirt." She was still gathering supplies, but she did notice that he was still unwilling to comply. Holding up a knife into his line of sight, she pointed it at him "Take it off or I will cut it off."

Suddenly, he was very afraid of her. Usually, when she did speak, she'd been quite sweet. That side of her had now vanished and had been replaced with this she-harpy of a woman.

"I would listen to her if I was you," Olivia told him as she leaned against the table for stability. She revealed a bandage wrapped around her left forearm, revealing a fresh wound. "There is a reason why I saw she was very good at stitching things." She also motioned to her right leg.

He realized that she was no longer in her black trousers. But, she also hadn't thought to fully dress herself either. She wore a thin underskirt that was extremely sheer. Underneath, he could see a thick white bandage wrapped around her upper thigh.

"Very well," he conceded once he'd realized that he had begun to stare and averted his gaze. She didn't seem as mortified. In fact, Olivia seemed highly amused by his embarrassment. He quickly undid the buttons of his black shirt and, with Emily's assistance, he removed it. He felt awkward as he revealed his wound to the two women. "It's not as bad as it looks," he argued, yet every moment he was met with a new stab of pain.

"I will be the judge of that," Emily told him as she reached out with a clean, damp rag to wash around the injury. The cut was a few inches long and quite deep. It was also very filthy.

"What were you doing? Rolling around in the dirt like you were an eight-year-old?" he heard her mutter as she continued to clean his wound.

Diego hisses at the burning feeling on his side as the water dripped over it. A growl escaped him as she touched the cloth to it and began to wipe it clean. Her touch was far from gentle, but it was thorough as she cleaned away the dried blood and debris. With her other hand, she firmly pinched it which made him cry out in pain.

He could hear Olivia giggling at him from across the room. "Enjoying yourself, are you?" he question as he shifted his attention over to her. Looking at her was far more enjoyable than what Emily was doing to him.

She nodded. "But only because I was in that same position nearly an hour ago."

His nurse was unaware of what was being said around her, she was so focused on her task. "It'll need some stitching up, but it's not so bad." She told him once she was satisfied. "I'm afraid that I don't have anything for the pain, though."

"I had to use brandy," Olivia informed him and held up the bottle into his line of sight. Now that he was aware, he could see that her cheeks were a bit more rosy than usual and her eyes were more glassy than normal.

Extending a hand toward her, he asked for it without saying a word. He then drank deeply. The liquid burned all the way down his throat, but he could feel how effective it was. The warmth spread across his entire body and soon he could no longer feel the pain in his side. "Let's get this over with." He sat up a bit straighter and gripped the arm of the sofa, bracing himself for whatever torture Emily had in store for him next.

"Would it help if I came over and held your hand?" Olivia offered with a smirk.

He smiled in return. "I wouldn't say no to that even if she wasn't about to sew me up."

Olivia seemed pleased with his response and pushed herself away from the table. Gingerly hobbling over to the sofa, she had to keep her right leg straight to not rip out her stitches. She pulled his hand into her lap once she settled down beside him and squeezed it tight.

Emily talked him through everything she did to him as she was doing it. That made it only slightly more bearable. He could feel each prick of the needle and every pull of the thread. He gritted his teeth at the sensation and tried not to break Olivia's hand as he squeezed in response to the pain. When it was done, she wrapped his torso with clean linen and tied it off on his opposite side.

"Your bandage will need to be changed each day until the wound seals itself. I should be able to remove the stitching after about a week."

"I'll be looking forward to it," he responded sarcastically, but she hadn't been looking at his face to see his lips.

Olivia, however, laughed. She continued to hold his hand, her fingers tenderly and soothingly stroking over his palm. He now had the opportunity to study her. She looked different. The dark cloud that had been constantly hovering over her had vanished. She looked almost giddy, now.

The man who had killed her mother was finally in custody. He couldn't blame her for being excited. "Are you alright?"

"I've been waiting for this for so long that I don't know what do to." She looked overwhelmed by her own emotions. Tears welled up in her eyes, but they didn't fall. The shock of all that had happened was keeping them all locked up inside. "It's all so new."

"I know that it can feel overwhelming. I'll help you through it, every step of the way."

She reached up and slid her fingers through his hair. He reveled in her touch. Feeling her this close to him only solidified that the darkness around them was fading. Now, and together, they could step out of the shadows and into a new life filled with light and love.

"Thank you for convincing me that I could trust you, Diego. I know that it couldn't have always been easy for you."

He shook his head and pulled the hand that was still entwined with his to his lips. Her fingers were cool as he placed a feathery light kiss on each one of them. "You have nothing to apologize for," he told her before she could even say the words. "I'm only glad that you finally realized that I am trustworthy, mi alma. There is no one else I would have wanted to fight this battle with."

"You still haven't told me what that means." This time, she didn't seem as confused. The words made her seem to practically glow with warmth.

"I know. And I at least owe you that." He couldn't help himself. He was drawn to her as always. He tenderly cradled her chin and urged her closer. "It means..." but he didn't get the chance to finish his words. She promptly pressed her lips to his, capturing the meaning of those two words.

She clutched at him with both of her hands, now. One hand still at his hair, the other finding purchase on his bare bicep. The shock of her touch on his bare skin was enough to send him into orbit.

He groaned in response and urged her closer.

She tried to follow his silent command. But as she shifted her weight to get closer, she let out a sharp cry of pain. Pulling away, there was clear discomfort on her features.

"I'm sorry," he quickly apologized.

She shook her head and breathed through the pain. "Don't," she urged while gritting her teeth. "It was nothing you did." She ran a hand tenderly over her thigh with a grumble of irritation.

He had to chuckle at the expression on her face. She looked absolutely vexed at her wound and that she wanted to curse it out. "Perhaps it's for the best," he rationalized.

She pouted in annoyance but agreed. "I suppose you're right," she rolled her eyes.

"We have all the time in the world."This meant that as torturous and excruciating as it might be, he could tenderly tempt and taste her with gentle and soft kisses that would drive them both to the edge of insanity. He gave her an example of it as he took her lips again.

She sighed and melted into him as she allowed him to show her what he'd meant.

A ruckus at the door caused them to pull apart. By the time on the grandfather clock, it was well into the middle of the night. Standing up from the sofa, Diego reached for his sword. But where it usually sat on his hip was empty. He had forgotten that he had already stashed it away in the secret room.

There was no need to worry, he realized as the door burst open. His father led the pack rushing inside. William followed and Bernardo was bringing up the rear.

"Thank the saints," Don Alejandro muttered a prayer as he hurried over to see his son. He wrapped Diego up in a loving hug that was only a bit too tight.

Diego gasped in pain. "Easy, Father."

"You're injured!"

How he had initially missed the bandages wrapped around his chest, Diego would never know. But as he stood there in the middle of the sala, he remembered that he was shirtless and Olivia was still sans her trousers or a proper skirt. "It's not so bad, he reassured him as he picked up his discarded shirt and slipped it back over his shoulders. He made certain to be careful as he could feel his stitches pulling with each movement he made. "Emily has already managed to patch us up."

Don Alejandro glanced toward Olivia whose slender frame had almost been swallowed up by her brother's much bulkier one once he had managed to help her to her feet. The siblings didn't speak as they hugged one another, both seemed so overwhelmed with emotion. Diego noted the way his elder took in the state of her undress and seemed to mentally combine that with how he'd discovered his son.

Thankfully, he chose not to say anything.

William eased away from his sister and tried to hide the fact that he was wiping away tears before he was able to speak again. "I was so worried when I didn't see you in the plaza," he told her. "It killed me to think what had happened to you."

"You'll be happy to know that your sister was very brave," Diego stepped in to defend her. "She took on an entire garrison while I fought to rescue the Capitán" He figured that if William had concluded that he was Zorro that it was best not to lie to him.

William turned to look at him, taking in the sight of his black outfit. Diego could see him mentally piecing together the puzzle inside of his brain. "At first, I had been wondering why you weren't with the other Dons, de la Vega." He paused as he helped Olivia sit back down so she could rest her leg. He made certain that she was settled before he crossed the room over to him. "And then I saw Zorro ride into the pueblo. But he wasn't riding on a black horse like I had been told he did. He had been riding a horse I was familiar with. A horse who did not trust many people."

His eyes held the heat of scrutiny as they drifted over Diego. It made him feel very uneasy again.

William surprised him, however. Seeming to approve of him, he extended a hand of friendship toward him. "You are a very brave man. I owe you not only the thanks of my government for helping to apprehend our fugitive. You also have my own for what you have done for my family."

Diego took the hand offered to him but shook his head in response. "It is I who should be thanking you. If it hadn't been for you and your men, we never would have gotten the upper hand. We are all here before we worked together. That was the only thing that led us to success." He felt like pouring a glass of wine and proposing a toast but refrained from doing so.

Yes, this battle was over, but the battle to rebuild would be even more challenging. Only after Los Angeles was returned to her former glory would he drink to their success.

"What about Ramon?" Olivia questioned. Emily had helped her lift her leg onto the sofa and had propped it up with a pillow.

"He was being examined by Doctor Avila when we left," Don Alejandro gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze of reassurance. "He is badly injured and I was told that he will have a long recovery ahead of him."

Diego cursed under his breath at that news. Of course, he wasn't surprised. He had seen the havoc that had been inflicted upon Ramon. "The Chameleon had enjoyed the thing he'd been doing to him," he explained as anger heated his blood. "He tortured him. I have little doubt that his mental recovery will take even longer."

"Ramon is strong," his father responded. "A lesser man would have given in to the sweet relief of death if he had been in the same situation."

"Perhaps we should stop in and see him once Doctor Avila says he is allowed visitors," Olivia suggested.

Diego nodded in agreement. "I'm sure he would like that." He was suddenly overtaken with exhaustion and was forced to stifle a yawn. It was becoming very difficult to keep his eyes open as well. The brandy had most likely taken hold of him completely now.

"Diego, you look like you are ready to drop from your feet," Don Alejandro chastised before trying to fight off one of his own. "I dare say that this entire ordeal has worn us all down to the bone," he chuckled.

"I certainly could use a good night's rest," Olivia agreed.

"William, you may stay the night as well, if you wish. I had the servants leave the guest room ready for you if you so desired."

"Thank you, Don Alejandro, but I'm afraid that my night is far from done. I should return to the pueblo to see if my men have finished securing the prisoners. I was only able to get away because Don Tomas urged me to inform you that I was unharmed." He turned to Olivia and gave a slight smirk. "He thinks quite highly of you."

"I think quite highly of him as well. But, are you certain you can't stay?" she asked as Emily was now assisting her back to her feet. William reached out to help as well.

"I can't. I only came to see for myself that you were safe. Get some rest. I'll stop by and see how you are doing in the morning." He wrapped her up in a hug and placed a kiss on the top of her head. "I love you, Liv," he whispered into her hair.

"I love you too, Will."

He then eased away from her and turned to Diego and his father. "Don Alejandro. Diego." He nodded to each of them before he showed himself out.

"Come," Emily urged her mistress. "Let's get you to bed."

Her maid slung an arm around her waist so she could lean into her as she walked. They paused Olivia could look back at Diego and his father. "Goodnight," she whispered to both of them, yet her gaze was firmly set upon Diego.

He smiled in response as he met her eyes. Still so large and soulful it was as if she was speaking to him through them. They said so much and still not enough. He could imagine what a lifetime of her looking at him in that same way would tell him.

"Goodnight, mi alma."