Free Until the Day Breaks (California Rising Book 1) by Paula Scott Page B

the guitar joining in as Rachel began to sing.
    Isabella skipped back over to Roman, crawling up into his lap. Roman crushed out his cigarillo . He did not wish to smoke in front of his sisters, for he did not want them taking up the habit like some women did.
    “Isn’t Rachel’s singing beautiful? She sings like a bird. A nightingale, I think.”
    He said nothing.
    “I feel like weeping when she sings. Do you not feel like weeping?” Isabella leaned against Roman’s chest. He flinched as her weight pressed his injured back into the hard adobe bricks. He didn’t take his eyes off of Rachel.
    “You smell funny,” Isabella announced. “You smell like a woman.”
    “It’s medicine. Sit still, Izzy, you’re hurting my back.”
    “You smell like perfume,” she accused.
    “If you don’t like how I smell, go sit somewhere else.”
    Isabella pressed her warm little body snugly against his. “No, I like sitting on you, hermano .”
    The two listened to the rest of Rachel’s song in silence. When she finished singing, Rachel left the courtyard with her head bowed. Roman sensed her defeat. Her haunting song continued to ring in his ears. She really did have the sweetest voice he’d ever heard. He stood up, dumping Isabella onto her own two feet.
    “Where are you going?” Isabella asked.
    “Isn’t it your bedtime yet?”
    “I’ll go to bed when Rachel goes to bed. I’m sleeping with her tonight.”
    “Perhaps she just went to bed.” Roman walked from the courtyard. Isabella trailed along behind him.
    “I think you’re mad,” she told him.
    “Why would I be mad?”
    Outside of the walled patio, at the edge of the darkness, Isabella tugged him to a halt. “You are mad because nothing is going the way you planned. You lost the war in Texas. Sarita married the gringo. And now you must marry Rachel. Perhaps California will be conquered by the Yankees, and then you will be happy you married a gringa because Papa says an alliance with the Americanos will protect us.”
    Roman knelt down beside her, putting his hand gently on top of her head. “Do you fear the Americanos coming, pequeña?”
    “Maria prays the United States will conqueror us quickly. She says she will sail away on one of those Yankee ships that bring us sugar and satin shoes.” Isabella’s voice trembled, and her eyes filled with tears.
    Roman pulled her into his arms. “I won’t let that happen, chica . Maria will never board a Yankee ship and leave us. Never.”
    Isabella wrapped her arms around his neck. “Promise?”
    “I promise.” Roman held her for a moment and then set her away from him as he rose to his feet.
    “Did Papa whip you harshly?”
    He smiled to ease her concern. “I am fine, pequeña . Let me go to bed now. I’m very tired tonight.”
    “Is that really where you are going? To your bed?”
    “Look at the moon. The second night watch is already here. You should go to your bed too.”
    “Will you walk me to Rachel’s room?”
    His smile disappeared. “Can you not find your own way there?”
    “No. I need your help. How will I sleep tonight without Señora Poppycock?” Isabella appeared on the verge of tears again.
    He reached for her hand and led her through a colonnaded patio lit by more candle lanterns. “I hope Señorita Tyler does not snore like Señora Poppycock.”
    “Señora Poppycock does not snore.”
    “No, she clucks. How do you sleep with all that clucking your chicken does?”
    “She only clucks if something frightens her.”
    “Then she must be frightened all the time.”
    “Señora Poppycock is not frightened all the time. She is a brave hen.” Isabella tugged him toward the east wing.
    After passing several closed doors, Isabella abruptly opened a door and pulled Roman into a candlelit room. Clothed in a white nightdress, Rachel knelt beside her bed. Her unbound hair tumbled to the floor. She rose swiftly to her feet upon their arrival, her hair swirling about her in glorious