Marco and the Devil's Bargain by Carla Kelly Page A

see none. I want Pia Maria. I will do anything to find her.”
    Anthony saw the defeat in Mondragón’s eyes, also contempt that made his blood run in chunks. Obviously the Spanish had made contempt a fine art, more than the British who had driven him from Georgia. Maybe it was the light brown eyes that made the juez look so sinister. Anthony doubted Paloma ever saw that expression.
    â€œ Suppose you inoculate my wife for certain, and Toshua most probably, and my servants, and I change my mind after they are protected?”
    Anthony had to give the juez credit. The man knew he had lost at the same time he had won his wife’s life, but he wasn’t going down without a struggle. Better now to flatter him a bit, if flattery it was. Probably it was just the truth, something Anthony had not considered for a long time. He had kicked truth aside on the Texas plains.
    â€œ Change your mind?” Anthony asked. “How can you? You are an honest man who would never go back on his word.”
    Another sigh, followed by a wry sort of smile or grimace. “You’ve trapped me.”
    â€œ I was hoping to.”
    The juez stood up. He sheathed his knife and turned toward the door. His hand on the latch, he looked back. “Let me understand you better, since we are to be partners in a game so dangerous my courage almost fails me. You could have inoculated those traders, couldn’t you?”
    â€œ Yes, once I had some live pox. By the time we reached the Clear Fork of the Brazos, I could have harvested scabs aplenty from dead Comanches.” He shuddered. “They lined the banks, half in and half out of the water they thought would give them relief.”
    â€œ Don’t you doctors take an oath that compels you to treat the sick?”
    â€œ I hated those men and they mistreated me.”
    Mondragón nodded. “I can almost understand that. There are men I dislike, too. But you took an oath. You would also withhold inoculation from my dear wife, who never would harm you?’
    â€œ Most certainly, unless you oblige me, as you will now.”
    â€œ You’re a monster and a discredit to your profession.”
    Anthony did not flinch. “I am, indeed. I am a father and I will find my daughter.”
    With no hesitation, the juez de campo held out his hand to seal Anthony’s devil’s bargain. “You have my word, you bastard. When do we begin?”

Chapter Eight
In which Paloma and Marco realize they have married idiots
    P aloma braced herself to show a cheerful face to her husband when he came from the room of the stranger, Anthony Gill. She would tell him, if he hadn’t already thought of it, to bar the Double Cross from any strangers and perhaps keep her safe that way. She could remind him that la viruela might not even reach their district. She could put a smiling face on the matter and tease him about borrowing trouble from tomorrow.
    Her smile vanished even as she saw the latch going up. She could not fool this man who knew her inside and out, this man who seemed to breathe in rhythm with her. All she could do was stand there like the Spanish matron she was now, her head up, her hands clasped at her waist, wondering what would happen to her, and wondering how this good man could possibly cope with another death—hers this time.
    The door opened. She thought she knew him, but there was such a look in his eyes. His mouth was set in what she feared was rage so barely contained that she took an involuntary step back. What on earth had Anthony Gill told him? She hesitated, then held out her hand to Marco.
    He must have noticed her hesitation, because he calmed himself, even as she watched. He took her hand and it trembled in hers.
    â€œ What, my love? Surely there is nothing worse that Señor Gil could have told you than what we already know is coming our way.”
    Alert now, wary even, she watched his expression change into precisely that look of false