


Madeira

by VanillaOrchid13



Category: Zorro
Genre: Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2014-05-11 10:28:15
Rating: T
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,826
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10153787/1/
Author URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5415168/VanillaOrchid13
Summary: Victoria attempts to drown her loneliness in a bottle of wine. When her judgment lapses around a handsome stranger, will Diego be able to save her from herself?





	Madeira

I've been reading fanfiction for years, but this is my first time actually posting something of my own. Special thanks to Emmarae for convincing me to take baby steps out of my comfort zone. It's not easy for me to take what's in my head and put it out for others to read, so Emma really is a miracle worker to talk me into this tomfoolery.

This story was written for the Too Much Wine challenge. Reviews are greatly appreciated! (Please be gentle…)

~VA~

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The day was blisteringly hot, even for California. The long drought had punished the landscape, every ounce of moisture long since evaporated. Dust hung heavy in the air while the sun beat mercilessly down upon those unlucky enough to remain outdoors. It felt very much like Hell.

And Diego would have happily chosen the heat over his comfortable hacienda on this particular day.

"Father, I'm not wearing that," he said, staring at his sire's offering dubiously.

"I'm not asking," Alejandro replied irritably. "Men of our station are expected to look a certain way, and Lord knows you've given them enough to gossip about. Now put it on."

Diego glowered at him. "I don't know how to use it."

Alejandro's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You might find cause to in a moment if you keep refusing me."

"What do I want a sword for?"

"To look respectable!" Alejandro barked, thoroughly exasperated. "Or, at least, to keep from embarrassing your father. People already assume you don't know how to defend yourself. What will happen after I'm gone? You may find yourself on the business end of a saber, forced to hand over what we've worked so hard to establish here. At least if you wear the blasted thing, people might think you know how to use it!"

"And if someone challenges me?" Diego asked testily.

"Well, maybe that would be good for you," Alejandro grumbled. "Trial by fire. Perhaps you'll find your courage."

Diego's jaw flexed in agitation. He glared at the sword, which was artfully decorated and outlandish. He'd feel foolish wearing it, he was certain. Frankly, he was embarrassed to be in the same room with it.

"Father-"

The sword was thrust at him. "I'm not repeating myself again. Put it on." His father turned around, missing the glare Diego leveled at him. "Now, I've invited Don Carlos and his wife to dinner later. Victoria was supposed to hold three bottles of Madeira back for us. Please go retrieve them."

Diego eyed the sword in his hand as if it were a poisonous snake. "Now?"

"Now, yes. And take the sword," Alejandro replied shortly, strolling out of the room and ignoring his son's frustrated groan.

***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***

Victoria rested her elbows on the green bar, sighing. Hot days like these usually drummed up business. Farmers, merchants and dons alike would swarm her tavern, seeking shade and a cool drink. Thinking proactively, Victoria had chilled a number of popular wines in preparation for a flood of parched, overheated patrons. However, the dust-clogged streets were forcing people to remain indoors, and the wine sat untouched. She stared forlornly at the empty tables, silently cursing this waiting game.

It seemed that her entire existence these days was waiting. She'd willingly placed her life on hold, tuning out the ticks of each moment passing her by. She'd turned down countless suitors, celebrated with childhood friends as they announced their engagements and pregnancies, and provided food and drink to those who lived productive lives. She'd spent years watching others enjoy what she could barely see on her horizon.

Victoria felt the familiar tendrils of bitterness creep around her stomach. Zorro had asked so much of her and had given so little. Yes, he risked his life every time he challenged the alcalde. He risked it further when he'd pause to kiss her or leave her a small gift. But she knew almost nothing about him. She sometimes went weeks without seeing him at all. There was no end of the alcalde's tyranny in sight. What sort of life was he expecting her to live while she waited for him?

Her fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle, running over the cool beads of condensation. Looking down at it pensively, she thought of every brush of his lips against her skin. She thought of his eyes, teasing as he sidestepped her pointed questions. And she thought of his back, which she was far more accustomed to seeing than his front. No matter his promises, he always left her behind.

With a surge of irritation, Victoria pulled the cork from the bottle and poured a considerable amount of wine into a glass. She downed it in one smooth motion without waiting for it to breathe. She gasped at the fierce burn that crawled up her throat before stubbornly pouring a second measure. If ever she deserved to lose control, she told herself resolutely, why not on a day with no other responsibilities looming?

And with that, Victoria gave herself permission to get gloriously drunk.

***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***

Diego shifted the reins to one hand and wiped at his eyes. Occasional gusts of wind were throwing dust into the air. Esperanza made a disgruntled noise and tossed her head a bit, but carried on down the road. Diego agreed with her that this was a miserable day for a ride. It was made more so by the annoying weight of the gaudy saber strapped to his side. The abandoned look of the road ahead looked promising, however. Maybe he'd get through this errand without anyone seeing him with this ridiculous thing.

Diego knew perfectly well how to wield a sword, of course. It was a fact he kept shielded from everyone but Felipe, as much for their protection as for his own. The sword he did choose to wield was strong, evenly balanced, and striking in its simplicity. The monstrosity Alejandro had given him, however, was a heavy chunk of metal, so absurdly decorated with flowery motifs and gold leaf that he cringed in misery. No one in their right mind would mistake him for a serious swordsman with this on his hip. In fact, they might draw new conclusions as to his obvious lack of female companionship.

Truly vexed with that thought in mind, Diego steered Esperanza through the gates of the pueblo. The town square was blessedly empty, save for a few small dust cyclones. He led her to the stables, where she gratefully sunk her muzzle in a trough of water. Scratching her affectionately between the ears, Diego murmured his apologies.

"Drink while you can, girl. This shouldn't take long."

***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***Z***

Victoria's toes felt fuzzy. There was no other way for her to describe it. The floor may as well have been covered in cotton, and she could be walking through the fluff in her bare feet… assuming the floor stayed level. Right now, it had a tendency to tilt dangerously to the left.

A giggle escaped her lips. The tip of her nose felt warm, while the skin on her calves broke out in gooseflesh. The paradox was one she considered as she raised the glass to her lips. Perhaps the floorboards had developed a draft, she reasoned. Perhaps the tilting caused it? She made a mental note to have it checked later.

A shadow fell over her, interrupting her jumbled train of thought. She looked up bleary-eyed at a tall, dust-covered man. He cocked an eyebrow at the drink in her hand before a roguish smile spread across his face.

"Staying cool?" he asked.

Victoria hummed in response. "Can I help you, señor?"

"It's a furnace out there," he replied, leaning nonchalantly against the bar. "I thought I'd come in for a drink."

She let out a humorless laugh. "We have plenty of that here."

The handsome man's gaze swept over the half-empty bottle of wine and up to the display of soft cleavage swelling above her blouse. "I can see that," he remarked.

"What would you like?" Victoria asked, missing his lecherous gawking. She straightened her spine, trying to shake off the pleasant buzzing beneath her skin.

"I'll take what you're having."

Pulling out a clean glass, she poured a liberal amount of red wine and passed it to him. The brush of his fingers against hers as he took it felt anything but accidental, and an embarrassed flush crept over her cheeks.

"I-I didn't catch your name, señor," she said, a little breathlessly.

"Fernando," he answered. He took a sip of the cool liquid, letting it linger in his mouth before swallowing. Eyeing her appreciatively, he commented, "I imagine your husband must be cursing this weather."

Victoria brought her glass back to her lips, more to hide her grimace than anything. "I'm not married."

Fernando cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. "Your fiancé, then?"

Victoria swallowed deeply, taking the time to refill her wine before replying. "It's… complicated."

"What's complicated about it? You either have a fiancé or you don't."

"No, I do. I-" Victoria's mouth snapped shut with a click. The alcohol was making her careless. She gave Fernando a tight smile. "Never mind."

He leaned closer, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Oh, now I'm intrigued. Tell me."

She shook her head helplessly. "There's nothing to tell. His… work…" she worded carefully, "…is such that he's gone most of the time."

"Gone from you? How can he stand it?" Fernando murmured, tracing the edge of his glass with a fingertip.

Victoria's eyes followed the hypnotizing motion. "He seems to suffer it quite well, actually," she said acidly.

"Impossible," he scoffed, and her eyes met his. "Beauty such as yours demands to be worshipped."

"He's busy…" she whispered, feeling suddenly breathless. She was not unfamiliar with flattery, and normally shut down compliments in their tracks. She opened her mouth to do just that, but the words seemed to stick in her throat. Her brow creased in confusion. Why was she hesitating? And was it her imagination, or was he suddenly closer?

"He's foolish," Fernando corrected, and then his lips were upon hers.

Victoria's shock was brief, and quickly succumbed to passive acceptance. Her inebriated state had given flight to the hurt, rejected feelings she'd been suppressing for so long. This man, stranger that he was, at least viewed her as desirable. His unfamiliar kiss was like a balm to her injured pride.

By the time she'd convinced her lips to participate in the kiss, a voice was booming through the empty tavern.

"What is this?"

Fernando pulled away from her abruptly, turning toward the intrusion. Victoria sucked in a much-needed breath of air while her eyes flicked toward the door. Framed in sunlight, the form of Diego de la Vega was taking measured steps toward them. And he looked livid.

"Can we help you?" Fernando questioned testily.

Diego ignored him. He scanned Victoria quickly, taking in her bloodshot eyes, unsteady balance, shaking hands, and the glass in her hand. He felt his composure begin to slip. His hands tightened into fists at his side and he forced himself to take a breath before speaking.

"Victoria, go sit down."

"Don't listen to him." Fernando pushed off the bar in Diego's direction, his footsteps heavy and threatening. Diego leveled a withering glare at him.

"Don't push me, señor."

"Oh, is this the fiancé?" Fernando called over his shoulder at Victoria.

Victoria, too bewildered to move, sputtered in shock. "N-no! Diego's a friend."

"In that case," Fernando's voice dropped an octave, his eyes narrowing. "I think you should leave."

"So you can continue taking advantage of an inebriated woman?"

"She's fine."

"She's drunk."

"It's none of your business," Fernando fired back.

Diego smirked then, his flashing eyes promising violence. "You're wrong."

The stranger hesitated, suddenly unsure. His eyes swept over Diego's expensive white shirt, clean blue pants, and finally landed on the sword. It looked like a costume piece, meant more for showing off than doing battle. It named Diego as a strutting nobleman, more rich than able. He scoffed, his bravado flooding back.

"I think," he said, advancing menacingly, "you should walk out of here before I decide to-"

Diego drew the sword from its sheath, sunlight dancing off the gold inlay.

Fernando barked a laugh. "Are you serious?" At Diego's silent glare, he drew his own sword. If the snob wanted a fight that badly, he'd give him one. "Have it your way," he snarled.

Victoria felt a stab of fear. "Diego, please. Stop this."

His voice was like ice. "Sit down, Victoria."

As he suspected, the sword felt heavy and awkward in his hand. The shiny surface kicked sunlight back into his eyes, and the tiny artistic swirls in the finish left uncomfortable indentations in his palm. His adrenaline surged, though, and he easily parried Fernando's attack. The cocky stranger pressed forward, swinging his blade viciously. Diego blocked each hit, gaining no pleasure from the sport. His annoyance grew as he watched Fernando bite his lip in concentration. Those lips had been on Victoria's not a full minute ago.

And with that, Diego's carefully controlled temper boiled over. His strikes became calculated, and he delivered hefty blows designed to weaken his opponent's arm. He began using more aggressive moves while Fernando became increasingly winded. Every strike was brutal, the heaviness of the sword sending shockwaves up the stranger's blade. With a savage grunt, Diego knocked Fernando's blade out of his deadened arm.

Eyes wide with panic, the foreigner's hands shot up defensively. "H-h-hey now," he managed shakily, "there's really no need for this."

"Leave," Diego commanded, his voice cold as death.

"I didn't mean anything by it. I swear. I just-"

"LEAVE," Diego roared, his voice echoing off the rafters.

Fernando stumbled backwards, tripping over his feet before sprinting toward the door. His blade lay forgotten on the tavern floor, the edge dented and glinting in places where gold leaf had transferred.

Victoria trembled from her place behind the bar. She'd never seen Diego so angry. His shoulders shook noticeably with barely-restrained aggression, and the knuckles of his fisted hand had gone white. She took a hesitant step toward him, and froze as he spun in her direction. The look on his face made her heart stumble its rhythm.

He wasn't angry. He was furious.

Diego fixed her with a stare so malevolent that the color drained from her cheeks. He started toward her and, at her flinch, followed her eyeline down to the sword he still held in a death grip. He dropped it in disgust, and the loud reverberation made Victoria jump.

"What," Diego said in a deceptively calm voice, "were you doing with him?"

Victoria's voice quivered. "I was serving him a drink."

"With your mouth?"

She frowned at him. "Well, no, but-"

"Oh, so you were just providing good customer service," Diego spat. "I see."

Indignation flooded her, and she glared at him. "How dare you?"

"How dare _you_!" Diego yelled, incensed. "You fought for years against the idea that your business wasn't that sort of establishment, and yet here you are, giving favors to the first man who walks through the door-"

"That's not what happened," Victoria said, her voice shaky.

Diego continued as if she hadn't spoken. "And then, of course, there's Zorro. You seem to have no trouble using him as an excuse to shield you from unwelcome suitors and thieves. What happened, Victoria? Were you feeling bored today?"

Victoria's feet shifted without her permission, carrying her with a speed she wouldn't have thought possible. Her arm arced, aiming a vicious slap at his face. He caught her wrist easily, pulling her against him.

"Maybe not boredom," Diego carried on, feeling a childish need to hurt her. "What was it, Victoria? Loneliness?"

She flinched as if he'd slapped her. Tears sprang into her eyes, and her breath hitched. Guilt formed a stone in Diego's stomach. Before he could form an apology, she drove her other palm into his chest.

"Don't you _dare_ suggest that I'm a whore, Diego de la Vega. You know perfectly well that I don't consort with my customers." Her voice took on a harsh tone. "But if I wanted to, I could kiss every man in the pueblo and it would _still_ be none of your concern. I am not your wife or sister, so I'll thank you to keep your nose out of my business. If anyone has a reason to complain, it's Zorro, and even he has little room to condemn me."

Diego raised an eyebrow in annoyance. "You think so?"

"Do you see him here?" she shot back. "Do I share his name? Do I do anything other than wait for his every beck and call, expected to stay patient and enjoy the scraps and crumbs of attention he gives me occasionally? Am I anything other than a pretty thing he takes off the shelf when it suits him?"

That gave him pause. Seeing her opening, she surged on.

"Am I lonely? Yes, very. I want a life, Diego. I want marriage and children and to fall asleep in my husband's arms. I want someone to comfort me when I'm sad, listen when I'm upset, and make me a priority in his life. Today I felt low, and someone made me feel pretty and desirable. I'm sorry if you think that's a moral failing on my part, but right now, I really don't give a damn."

Diego's anger had faded into a low burn, settled deep in his stomach. A tear had rolled down her cheek as she raged at him, and he observed its path with keen interest. He was reluctant to admit that he'd neglected her cruelly. This was his fault.

Sensing the change in him, Victoria took a calming breath. Pushing against his chest, she said, "I think you should go."

His grip on her wrist tightened, drawing her confused gaze up to his. His other hand cupped her cheek, gently wiping the tear away.

"You're right," he murmured, and she shivered involuntarily at the deep timbre of his voice. "You deserve to feel wanted."

A crease formed between her brows. Before she could question him, he was drawing her closer.

"Diego…" she whispered, her fingers curling against her will into his shirt. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, and she felt suddenly breathless.

He brushed his lips carefully across her cheek, tasting salt and moisture. "You deserve so much more than this," he rumbled quietly, following the curve of her jawline. He felt her breath quicken as he traced her pulse with his mouth. "It wasn't fair to ask so much of you."

Victoria tried to formulate a coherent thought, but the intensity of the moment mixed with the wine made everything hazy. She could do little other than tremble against him.

A soft growl drew her attention back to his face. "You're the most desirable woman I know. I thought you knew that. I thought…" Diego drifted off, his eyes studying hers with a passion that sent her heart pounding. "It doesn't matter," he promised on an exhaled. "It won't happen again."

And with that, his mouth claimed hers.

Shock flooded Victoria with a jolt, followed quickly by recognition. Before she could articulate its source, her lips were responding to his, meeting each surge with enthusiasm. Their tongues swirled around each other, battling for dominance, and his arm curled possessively around her waist and brought her body full measure against his.

She knew this man, Victoria realized. She knew the broad shoulders beneath the immaculately pressed shirt, the strong muscles flexing beneath her soft touch. She knew this titan, so infinitely gentle now with her in his embrace. A scrap of black material may shield his identity from the world, but there was no mistaking his kiss. It had no equal.

She shifted against him and then winced. Diego reacted immediately, pulling back from her and looking down. His lips curled back in distaste at the gleaming scabbard strapped to his side. Victoria couldn't hold her giggle back, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Are you trying a new approach to crime-fighting?" she asked teasingly.

Diego's eyes warmed considerably, and he released a shaky laugh. "My father insisted I learn how to carry a sword like a gentleman."

Victoria glanced at the golden blade on the floor. "Oh," she said quietly. She bit her lip uncertainly. "It's… nice…" she managed.

He winced. "It's horrible."

"I wouldn't say horrible," Victoria qualified, running a finger down the sheath. "It looks dashing."

He rolled his eyes at her joking. "I prefer black."

"I've noticed."

The smile faded from his lips. "I've wanted to tell you for so long-"

Victoria laid a finger against his lips. "It's behind us." A pause. "It better be behind us," she added, a threatening tone to her voice.

His eyes glowed with a possessive light. "I'm a fast learner. We won't be parted again."

She beamed up at him. "So you'll tell your father?"

"My father," Diego murmured, bending back down for another kiss. "He sent me here for some wine. Do you have any left?"

"I'm not sure," she breathed, grazing her teeth seductively across his bottom lip. "I was pretty thirsty."

Diego growled into her mouth. "Get the wine and lock the doors. You're coming home with me."

"I'm not sure I'll fit on your horse with that sword poking me."

He glowered at the obnoxious weapon. "We'll donate it to the church on the way."

"Are you sure? Perhaps Zorro needs a splash of color," Victoria teased, then shrieked with laughter as he swept her off the ground.

"The only gold I'll be wearing is a wedding ring," he promised, nuzzling her ear.

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Love it? Hate it? Please let me know!


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