FicWad

After he left Leonor's bedroom and contrary to what he had told his father, Diego didn't go to bed of course. Instead, he headed to the library where he found Felipe who was eager to hear the real details about the girl's rescue.

"Come, let's go down," Diego told him while walking to the fireplace, "we'd better get out of earshot. And anyway, I must change clothes and saddle Tornado: Zorro rides tonight."

At the young man's evident 'why?', Diego didn't answer directly.

"Let's go to the cave," he simply repeated.

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With his index fingers, Felipe drew circles under his eyes and then pointed at Diego. The latter deliberately ignored his friend's remark – 'but you hardly slept a wink last night, and you rode the better part of today!' – to go to the coat rack and change clothes with the young man's help.

"I need to hear what Victoria really thinks of me, now that she knows that the girl is NOT my daughter, and that I didn't even know this woman."

Felipe nodded, meaning that he understood his wish, but then he showed Zorro's mask in his hand and shook his head, pointing at Diego.

"No Felipe, if I want her to say what she really thinks of me, I cannot go as myself."

The young man then mimed something that Diego immediately understood and denied as soon as he saw it:

"No, I'm not being a chicken!"

Felipe rolled his eyes and raised them to heaven.

"But NO, I assure you!" Diego insisted.

Sure, the young man seemed to ironically answer.

Frustrated, Diego just shrugged and resumed getting dressed with his back to his friend, who went to saddle Tornado.

Once Zorro was ready he turned to them; Felipe then mimed someone laying his head on a pillow and closed his eyes, before pointing upstairs.

"I don't know, Felipe. The girl, yes, probably by now; she seemed to be rather drowsy when I left them. But they were still both at her bedside. I'm not sure Father will find sleep easily after today's excitement, and think Señora Valdès's maid was preparing a bath for her, so I'm not sure any of them is sleeping right now: today was a lot to take in after all..."

Felipe then pointed at him questioningly.

"I'm all right," Diego answered him a bit gruffly.

Felipe looked at him in a manner that spoke volumes about the lack of credibility of his answer.

"I'm just looking forward to seeing them go back to San Diego," Zorro said. "The sooner the better..."

Felipe agreed. He signed that he didn't like children's shouts and that they were often nosy: what if she snooped around and found the secret passageway?

"No, the mechanism is too high for her."

Felipe then showed a chair and pretended to climb on it and to search through the books on a shelf.

"No, I don't think so. They won't leave her alone long enough, even inside the hacienda. Especially after today... Father checked twice that the shutters of her bedroom's window were firmly closed, do you believe that?" he sighed. "He who doesn't ever close those of his own bedroom at night..."

When Zorro mounted Tornado and bid his young friend his good bye, telling him not to wait for his return home, Felipe signed that he was looking forward to the girl's departure.

Zorro smiled at him and urged Tornado out of the cave.

But once outside he stopped to think a bit about that. A thought occurred to him and a feeling of very slight remorse made him go back inside.

"Felipe," he called once in the cave again, sighing deeply, "I don't want you to feel compelled to dislike her out of loyalty to me, you know..."

He looked at his young confident a bit sheepishly; then he made Tornado turn again and left for good, not adding anything.

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Sitting in shirtsleeves at his desk in his bedroom and with his waistcoat hanging open, Don Alejandro was thoughtfully and absentmindedly running a hand in his hair while carefully choosing his words for the letter he was currently writing.

After he had bidden Araceli goodnight, he had gone straight to his room with the intention to go to bed, but once he had closed the door he realised he was still too nervously upset by the events of the day to have sleep immediately claim him. Thus he decided to delay a little a bit.

And since now the whole of Los Angeles knew about his very personal secret, he'd better inform his friends who didn't lived there too, before the news came to them through someone else...

And not only his friends... There would also be his family: hopefully they would be forgiving and understanding... like his nephew Rafael for instance... Would they welcome Leonor in the family? Now, as for what remained of his in-laws... Alejandro didn't look forward to writing these letters, and even less to receiving their answers. His late wife's brothers, sisters and nephews' reactions would certainly match Diego's...

Ouch... really not looking forward to it...

But, Alejandro reflected, their reactions was probably the price to pay for having kept it secret and hidden for so long! And after all, he had no one but himself to blame for this sure-to-come and well-deserved admonishment or snub from them. He should have told them long ago; Araceli had advised him to do so. She, for her part, had told her own family and been open about it from the start. Well of course she had! She would have had some trouble hiding it after the first months; and even afterwards, explaining why she was housing and raising a little girl under her roof would have been tricky. Especially as the more Leonor was growing up, the more she was looking like her mother, in Alejandro's opinion.

A knock on his door tore him away from his thoughts. He put his quill down, used his candle to light up his oil lamp and got up. Did Diego finally want to have another talk now? Did Leonor have a nightmare?

"What is it?" he called.

When no answer came from the other side of the door, he thought that perhaps Felipe had forgotten to tell him something; a message from Diego, maybe? Or perhaps the young man wanted to ask him something. Anyway and all things considered, he was rather glad for the interruption. These letters were not really pleasant to write.

Once at the door he put the lamp down on the marble surface of a dressing table. He reached for the doorknob, turned it and pulled the door open. To his utmost surprise, he found himself facing a slightly troubled Araceli clad in a white cotton long-sleeved nightshirt embroidered with frilly eyelet lace. She was wrapped in a paisley shawl and her long black hair was loosely braided in a plait which was running down the front of her shoulder to lower than her right breast.

Looking further down, Alejandro noticed that she was barefoot.

But once the first surprise faded, what struck him most was the look on her face: a mix of weariness and distress, combined with a hint of sadness and of disappointment. She had evidently been rather rattled and shaken by the events of the day; not to mention that Diego's welcome and reaction hadn't been the warmest ever.

But what definitely got and kept Alejandro's attention was the look in her eyes. The hurt, the sadness and the tiredness were there, of course, but only far away in the background; what lit up her eyes, what burned in them was some sort of feverish lively fire. But she also seemed a bit lost, almost distraught.

"Araceli..." he finally said, daring to break the silence, "are you all right?"

She opened her mouth but didn't say anything, as though searching for words. She only nodded to reassure him. He asked again:

"Do you need anything?"

Again, she nodded, slowly, not tearing her eyes away from his face. She finally spoke:

"Alejandro, do you remember this morning, when you asked your son to take care of me and I said that I didn't need comforting?"

It was his turn to silently nod.

"Well," she went on, briefly looking down before looking up again, "now I need comfort," she admitted. "But not the kind of comfort I'm morally and seemly allowed to seek from my daughter's brother..." she added, looking him straight in the eyes.

He recognised this look as soon as he saw it: a thirst, a need, a hunger. Fire. Greed.

Longing, craving.

Desire. Heat. Arousal.

Lust.

Oh, Dios!

Her breathing was short and fast. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips swollen and reddened, her eyes dark and shining...

Oh Dios, Dios...

She slowly but surely raised a hand to his neck; before she reached his throat she suspended her daring move, hesitating a bit, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes, but she softly resumed it and oh-so gently but resolutely laid her palm flat against the upper part of his sternum, just under his neck. She took a step forward, crossing the threshold of his bedroom and getting so close to him that their chests were touching; by way of request for invitation, she simply asked him in a low and breathy voice:

"Please..."

Please... what? Please let me in, please hold me, or please... else?

He managed to slowly raise his own hand to hers and grasped it to gently tear it away from his chest. Oh, the strength this simple move demanded from him!

"Araceli..." he began, looking her in the eyes, "you're not... you mustn't..." he stammered. Oh, how raspy and breathy his own voice was! "You're not thinking straight right now," he managed to say, rather proud of this small prowess. "Today has been horribly trying on you, you're edgy and overwrought. You'd better go back to bed."