Her Enemy Protector (8 page)

The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You know something about him that we don’t?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied. “He’s got his hand so deep in my father’s pockets he could scratch Eduardo’s kneecaps.”

Joe
smiled
beside her.

“This isn’t a joke,” she hissed at him. “He’ll run straight to my father.”

Joe nodded. “That’s the idea.”

Huh?
The skepticism rumbling in her gut must have shown on her face because Joe explained, “Who better to marry us? Someone your father will believe out of hand when the judge tells Eduardo we’re legally and properly married.”

“But what if he calls my father before he does the ceremony and asks if it’s all right?”

The driver answered casually, “He won’t.”

“I’ll bet you a hundred dollars U.S. he talks to Eduardo first,” she retorted.

“I’ll bet you a thousand he doesn’t,” the driver shot back.

Carina blinked. For the hired help, the guy was pretty hostile toward her. She was generally well liked by the working classes in Gavarone because she tipped lavishly and was forever giving away ridiculous sums of money to the poorest among them. If this driver was Gavronese, he ought to be delighted to drive her in anticipation of a hefty reward.

A suspicion that he was another member of Charlie Squad hit her and, just as quickly, froze into certainty. The driver had good reason to hate anyone with the name Ferrare.
As did Joe.

Her horrified gaze swiveled to him. Why hadn’t she seen this before? She’d guessed he was Charlie Squad, but she’d let her attraction to him blind her to the reality of who he was. Joe
said
he was here to help her. To rescue her. But was he really? Was it possible that Joe had been setting her up as bait this whole time so he and his buddies could draw out her father and kill him? From what her father said about these American soldiers, they were fully capable of harming a noncombatant like her to get at her father.

Nah. No matter how little she knew Joe, there was no way he’d hurt her. She’d bet her life on it.

Joe interrupted her distressing thoughts, saying mildly, “Don’t take that bet, Carina. You are right—Judge Cabot will absolutely make a phone call to your father first. The thing is, I’ve arranged for a little intervention in the phone lines at the good judge’s house.”

She searched the darkness, trying to see his eyes. “What sort of intervention?”

“An actress I’ve hired for the occasion will take the call, which will be conveniently diverted from the regular phone lines. She’ll pose as a housekeeper in your father’s home and will tell the judge that
Señor
Ferrare is not available at the moment. There’s some sort of uproar over the fact that Carina has disappeared with her fiancé and nobody knows where they’ve gone.
Señor
Ferrare is threatening to make them get married tonight if Mr. Joe does not bring Miss Carina home soon.”

She stared at Joe. Blinked a couple of times. And then burst out laughing. “That’s brilliant!”

He flashed that devilishly charming smile of his and, for the first time since they’d gotten into the car, her panic abated a little. They might just pull this off after all. But then something else struck her. If Joe had hired an actress and already spliced into the judge’s home telephone line, he’d definitely been planning to do this tonight. He hadn’t exactly lied to her outright about having planned this little excursion in advance, but he hadn’t been completely square with her about it, either.

But then, it wasn’t like either one of them was being blindingly honest with each other here. She’d been careful to keep up her spoiled-little-rich-girl act, and who the heck knew who Joe Smith really was beneath that easygoing,
I’m-just-a-friend-of-your-sister’s
act?

They made a good pair.

The car slowed down, turned into a driveway and stopped at an electronically controlled gate.

The driver leaned out the window and announced, in flawless Spanish, “Miss Ferrare to see Judge Cabot.”

The security man on the other end of the intercom sounded startled as he answered, “Come up to the house right away, of course.”

Amazing the reaction the Ferrare name garnered in this town. God, she hated being her father’s daughter. But, as always, she schooled her facial expression to one of casual acceptance of the guard’s reaction.

The driver closed his window and the car rolled forward smoothly again. She noticed him staring at her in the rearview mirror. “They always jump like that when they hear your name?” he asked.

She shrugged. But keeping the move nonchalant took some effort. She replied, “Pretty much.”

As they came into view of the floodlights illuminating the front of Judge Cabot’s house, Joe muttered, “Stay in the car. I want to have a look around before you get out.”

She was used to the procedure. The only surprise this time was how quick Joe was about it. By the time he’d slowly walked around from his side of the car to hers and opened the door for her, she heard him mutter to the driver, “All clear, Tom.”

Tom? Her gaze snapped to the back of the driver’s head. Was
that
the legendary Colonel Tom Folly? Heck, her father had supposedly crippled the guy’s leg just last year. Ruined his field career for good, by all accounts. It would certainly explain his hostility toward her and her family.

Joe’s hand appeared in front of her face and she reached out to take it. His fingers were warm and deceptively strong as they wrapped around hers. But then all of Joe was deceptively strong. She’d been surprised a couple of times when they’d been dancing just how easily he picked her up and swung her around, as if he hardly noticed her weight.

Panic jumped and kicked like a scared colt in her stomach again. “Are you sure about this?” she asked him one last time.

His gaze met hers. For a moment, his black eyes were as hard as nails. But the expression in them melted so quickly into a warm smile that she almost wasn’t sure she’d seen the former.

“I’m sure, princess.”

She noted the fact that he didn’t ask her the same question. Not interested in giving her any opportunity to back out, was he? Smart man. Because right about now, the long driveway stretching into the night behind her was looking really good.

The sprawling house’s front door opened and a gray-haired man wearing neatly pressed chino slacks and a block polo shirt stepped out onto the covered porch.

“Carina,
mi querida!
You’re looking as lovely as ever. Come in, come in.”

She wasn’t his dear, thank you very much. He was as corrupt as they came, using his courtroom as a weapon to promote crime and suffering among the people of Gavarone. Given her druthers, she’d spit in his face. “Judge Cabot,” she said warmly. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your evening at this late hour, but I need your help.”

The judge gave a worried look around at the night, as if ears were growing on the gardenia bushes by the front door. “Let us speak inside of how I may help you.”

Joe’s hand slipped under her elbow as they walked up the front steps, ostensibly to help her, but she’d lay odds he was worried about her bolting. She walked past the heavy, sweet scent of the gardenias and inside to dim lamplight. The hand-distressed hardwood floors and broad hallway running straight back into the house, with its plantation shutters and mahogany furniture, gave it a tropical, colonial feel. Under other circumstances, she’d have liked this place.

She was surprised to see that Colonel Folly—if that’s who he really was—had followed her and Joe inside. Normally, a chauffeur would stay with his car. She should probably pass him off as her bodyguard so Judge Cabot wouldn’t get suspicious.

She looked over her shoulder at the American colonel. “I’m perfectly safe inside the judge’s house. But if my father’s orders are to stick with me at all times, do stay out of the way, all right?”

Folly’s eyes registered surprise for the slightest instant, but then it was replaced by approval. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied gruffly.

The judge led them to a combination library/office lined with law books and sporting a giant cluttered desk. It was an insult to the law to have this man purport to actually care what was inside those leather-bound volumes. Aloud, Cari simpered, “What a lovely room! Look at all those pretty books!”

Judge Cabot smiled, his gaze sharp but his voice obsequious. “What can I do for you at this unusual hour, my dear?”

“I want you to marry me.”

Cabot gaped. “I beg your pardon?”

She laughed gaily. “I don’t mean I want
you
to be my husband. I mean I want you to perform a marriage ceremony for me and my boyfriend…my fiancé.” She dragged Joe forward by the arm to stand beside her.

Cabot paused, obviously thinking fast. She could see the wheels turning, assessing how her father would react if he went through with her request. Doubt and fear trickled across his features before he finally said heavily, “Ah. Well, my dear, there are certain legalities that must be observed. I’m afraid it will be impossible for me to marry you two lovebirds this evening….”

Joe reached into his back pant pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “If it’s the marriage license you’re worried about, I’ve got it right here.”

Cabot’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He looked more than a little annoyed. But, interestingly enough, he continued to address himself solely to her and ignored Joe. “Actually, I’m more worried about what your father will think of this, Carina. You don’t want to deprive him of the pleasure of seeing his baby girl become a bride, do you? It would break his heart.”

She waved an airy hand. “Oh, he’s been telling Joe to make an honest woman out of me for weeks now. He’ll be thrilled.”

Cabot looked skeptical. “Well,” he drawled, “if you’ve already got the license and you have your father’s blessing…” He took a step toward the door. “Wait here. There are several things I’ll need to get if we’re going to do this wedding tonight. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Joe and Folly exchanged significant looks as the judge left the room.

She muttered under her breath, “There goes the bet.”

Folly flashed her a brief smile. But then Joe startled her by taking her hand in his. “How are you holding up?” he murmured.

“So far, so good,” she mumbled back, as aware as he apparently was that there could be microphones hidden in this room. She plucked at her red dress. “I can’t believe I’m going to get married in this outfit. I always imagined I’d wear some outrageously expensive designer gown—white, of course, and covered in lace and pearls.”

Joe glanced down at her attire and fire blazed in his eyes. “I dunno. You may start a fashion trend. A sexy red dress seems just right for the occasion if you ask me.”

She laughed. “And that’s why the groom doesn’t pick the dress. If men had their way, brides would wear lace teddies down the aisle.”

He grinned widely. “Now you’re talking.”

She heard a noise in the hall and quickly leaned into Joe, plastering herself blatantly to him from chest to ankle. She purred, “That’s why I’m marrying you, darling. You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

The judge walked in just then, and when she drew away from Joe, his arm came up, trapping her against him. Good point. It probably was a good idea for the judge to see them crawling all over each other like cats in heat. All the more reason for him to get them safely married as soon as possible.

Cabot cleared his throat. “My wife will be down in just a minute. We’ll need two witnesses for the ceremony, and if your driver will consent to be one of them, Josefina will stand in as the second.”

Carina answered carelessly, not even bothering to glance over at Folly. “Of course he’ll do it.” Servants in this country, particularly her father’s, were expected to do what they were told and not ask any questions about it.

An attractive woman of middle years came into the room, patting her hair in place. A giant diamond glittered on her hand, impossible to miss. Cari’s gaze narrowed. Josefina Cabot was an extremely well-turned-out woman, compliments of Eduardo’s bribes to her husband. She supposed she shouldn’t blame Josefina for being married to a crook, but she still didn’t like seeing the woman wearing thousand-dollar sweaters and hundred-thousand-dollar rings paid for in other people’s blood.

Cari exchanged air kisses with Cabot’s wife, who gushed, “How exciting this is! So romantic. To elope with a handsome young man. Ah, to be your age again, Carina.”

The most exciting part for the woman was going to be all the attention she got when she called everyone she knew to gossip about this secret ceremony two minutes after it was over.

“Are we ready, then?” Judge Cabot asked. “Come stand over here in front of me, you two.”

A rush of heat swept over Cari and she actually felt light-headed. Great. That was all she needed to fuel Josefina’s rumor mill. Fainting at her own wedding. But then Joe’s magical hands were there again, one in the small of her back and the other at her elbow, steadying her and guiding her forward to stand beside him in front of the judge.

Her body didn’t feel like it belonged to her. She listened in mild disbelief as the judge droned through the wedding ceremony, lecturing them about the sanctity of marriage, how it was a sacred oath unto death.

Unto death.
She prayed fervently that this harebrained scheme wouldn’t end up with Joe—or even her—dying at her father’s hands. She ought to call this off. Tell Joe to save himself and forget about helping her.

But as surely as she was standing here, going through with this insanity, so would he. She might not have the slightest idea who Joe Smith was beneath the mask he always wore, but she knew one thing about him for sure. He’d never walk away from her. Not after he’d promised to rescue her from her father.

She gulped as Judge Cabot turned to her and said, “Repeat after me. I, Carina Inez di Ortolo Ferrare, do take thee—” a pause while Cabot glanced down at the marriage license in his hand “—Joseph Chavez Smith, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”