While Passion Sleeps

by Shirlee Busbee

  An amused glint in his eyes, he agreed, "So could I, amigo, so could I."

  They parted, each man pleased that they had managed to brush through a difficult situation with as little animosity and pain as possible.

  It had been near the end of the siesta when the men returned and as she dressed for the evening, Beth was unaware that Rafael was again at the hacienda. But she was prepared for him this time and half expected to meet him when she joined the others.

  It had been an error on Rafael's part to leave her alone, for his absence had given Beth an opportunity to think and plan without his disruptive presence. Pulling a face at herself in the mirror as she watched Charity put the final touches on her hair arrangement, she admitted gloomily that there was only one path open to her; she was going to have to defy his order that she remain at the hacienda. It was too dangerous to remain, and whether Rafael was here tonight or not, Beth had every intention of announcing to her hosts that she and Nathan had decided to return to San Antonio—immediately.

  Nathan had agreed when she had approached him about it. She had spent a restless night, searching for some solution, and flight seemed the only answer. Leaving the hacienda and Rafael's disturbing presence was the sensible thing to do. Since she had been unsensible about this disastrous journey so far, she was determined to do the sensible thing at its ignoble end.

  Beth had dressed with care, telling herself it was only to bolster her confidence and had nothing to do with wanting Rafael Santana to look at her with appreciation. The gown she had chosen to wear was a favorite of hers, a silver-blue silk with a bertha of Brussels lace that framed her white bosom and shoulders. Following the fashion of the day, the gown was very low cut, leaving her shoulders bare and giving a tantalizing view of the top of her breasts. The silk material clung to her body, coming to a point at her slender waist in the front before falling in a full, pleated skirt to the floor; a starched lace-trimmed crinoline caused it to flare gently whenever she moved. She wore little jewelry, just a delicate cameo brooch nestled in the bertha of lace near her shoulder and a gold bracelet on one wrist. The silver-gilt hair had been arranged in long shining ringlets that fell on either side of her cheeks and the silver-blue color of the silk gown made her eyes appear a vivid violet-blue, while her mouth was a rosy invitation that most men would find hard to resist.

  Certainly Nathan found himself unable to resist it when he met her as she left her rooms. Stopping abruptly at the sight of her, he reached out for one of her hands and, drawing her near to him, he dropped a gentle kiss on her lips. "How lovely you are this evening, my dear. It must be that traveling agrees with you... or"—his eyes questioning—"is it the thought of our departure tomorrow that turns you into this fairy creature?"

  She smiled at him and a teasing note in her voice, she said, "Perhaps it is because you are so overjoyed at our departure that you see me in such extravagant terms, sir!"

  Nathan laughed, and in harmony they wandered out onto the courtyard. The evening air had only the faintest hint of a chill in it and the sweet smell of daphne and lemon blossoms drifted through the courtyard. As had been the case the previous evenings, Dona Madelina was already there, seated in her favorite chair, and Don Miguel stood near the fountain talking to her.

  Beth chose a seat near the fountain and, sipping her glass of sangria, she chatted with her hosts. Under any other circumstances Beth would have enjoyed this stay with Don Miguel and Dona Madelina. They were both so charming and warmhearted that she longed to be what she appeared to be—a chance-met friend of Sebastian's, not the ugly creature that Rafael thought she was. Each hour was another battle to be won, another hour in which she must act gay and carefree, to appear as if she were enjoying herself—all the while conscious of the lie she lived, conscious of how easily Rafael could saunter in and explode the situation.

  The easy hospitality, the cheerful affection bestowed so quickly and freely upon her by Don Miguel and Dona Madelina were the only things that made the situation bearable. Yet those same things made Beth feel despicable, aware, as the others were not, of the hidden reefs that could without warning rip apart the tranquility of the hacienda.

  Don Miguel was especially kind to her; a cordial friendship had sprung up between them. Having learned of her interest in the Spanish explorations the previous evening, he had regaled her with stories of the first explorers and Texan legends. A twinkle in his dark eyes, as if he understood the yearning, adventurous heart that beat beneath the soft white breast, he had patiently answered her impetuous questions.

  This evening proved to be more of the same. While Nathan and Dona Madelina exchanged anecdotes concerning life on a plantation and life on a rancho, Beth and Don Miguel, to their mutual enjoyment, were soon immersed in stories of exploration. The fears and worries that were with her these past few days were forgotten, and her lovely face was animated with lively interest as she listened to Don Miguel's favorite theory that it was Cabeza de Vaca's stories, much distorted stories, concerning the awe-inspiring pueblos of the Pueblo Indians that had lent credence to the existence of the golden cities.

  "Oh, Don Miguel, do not say so! There are such wondrous tales told of the cities—surely they must exist!" she protested.

  An indulgent smile curving his mouth, he replied teasingly, "Perhaps you do not wish to believe that they are so simply explained away, because in your heart you want them to be real. You are, I think, senora, a beautiful dreamer."

  Remembering the foolish, romantic dreams she once had, a sad expression flitted across her face. Seeing it, Don Miguel leaned forward and, laying a warm hand over hers, he asked, "Nina, what is it? Why do you look so unhappy?"

  "Unhappy? A guest of ours, mi padre? Surely there is some mistake," Rafael drawled from behind them, and Beth stiffened in her seat, her heart thumping madly under the bertha of lace.

  "Ah, my son, how like you to appear at such an inopportune moment," Don Miguel replied, turning to glance at his son.

  "Inopportune? I rather doubt that, Miguel." Rafael sauntered around to stand in front of Beth. His eyes hard on her face, he drawled, "I think it a most opportune time... even I would be gallant enough, in the face of Senora Ridgeway's beauty, to do my utmost to make her stay at Cielo happy. Introduce us, please."

  A giddying sense of deja vu swept over Beth. He stood before her as he had at the Costa Soiree, handsome in a short black velvet chaqueta trimmed in silver, the white ruffled shirt heightening his bronzed skin and blue-black hair, and the black velvet calzoneras almost indecently displaying his long-limbed figure. With a flutter in her chest Beth met the challenging glitter in his gray eyes.

  Her chin lifted as she stared coolly back. Her voice composed and polite, she replied, "How do you do, senor? Your father has spoken of you frequently since we have arrived." The words gagging in her throat, she forced herself to add, "I have looked forward to meeting you."

  Rafael smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Bending over her hand, he deliberately pressed an intimate kiss to the inside of her wrist, the heat of his mouth shocking her. "Did you, senora?" His eyes glinted with mockery. "After such a pretty compliment I must be on my best behavior, yes?"

  Beth snatched her hand away, and Don Miguel, who had not noticed the surreptitious kiss, looked at her in surprise. Hastily Beth muttered, "I am not used to your Spanish gallantry."

  Don Miguel's expression eased. Telling his son to look after their guest, he wandered toward Nathan and Dona Madelina. Beth watched him go with dismay, but her face gave no sign of her inner turmoil.

  Dryly Rafael said, "I see that with all your other talents you are also a clever actress. No one would ever suspect that we weren't meeting for the first time. But that isn't the case, is it?"

  The violet eyes flashed with anger. "Perhaps you would have preferred for me to mention the circumstances of our last meeting? I'm certain your father and my husband would have found it a titillating dinner subject."

  Lowering himself with indolent grace int
o the chair next to hers, he grinned at her. "Titillating is the mildest word I can think of to describe their emotions."

  "You find this all very entertaining, don't you?"

  His eyes traveling caressingly over her face and bosom, he murmured, "I must confess that there are parts of this charade that I find very entertaining."

  With difficulty Beth fought off the desire to slap his mocking face. Her clenched fists were hidden in the folds of her skirt but there was no way she could hide her anger, obvious in the rigid curve of her soft mouth and the belligerent set of her chin. Fortunately, no one seemed to be paying them any heed, and, aware of the need not to have anyone notice anything out of the ordinary, with an effort Beth made herself relax. Sweetly she said, "You are a swine, senor. I despise you, and I would advise you not to turn your back on me—I might be tempted to bury a dagger in it."

  To Beth's discomfort, Rafael sent her a lazy smile. The flicker in his eyes was at odds with the lightness of his tone of voice as he returned carelessly, "And I, English, happen to desire you... too much for my own liking."

  Beth felt a jolt shoot through her and averting her eyes from the blaze of desire in his, she asked tartly, "Have you considered denying yourself? I can assure you that I would be most delighted if you found some other source of relieving yourself of this unwanted desire you claim to have."

  Rafael gave a bark of laughter. "Don't start that sort of argument in public," he threatened softly, "because if you do, I'll make damn sure we finish it in private."

  Beth was incensed enough to ignore his warning, but her reply was lost when Rafael, with a curt nod in the direction of the others, asked in a taut voice, "The simpering dandy over by my stepmother, is he your husband? The one who is all the things that I am not?"

  It was a strange way to phrase it, and she was unhappily aware of how true it was. Nathan was everything that Rafael was not—kind and gentle where Rafael would be fierce and hard; Rafael decisive against those who disagreed with him, Nathan easily swayed; Nathan as blond and unassuming as Rafael was dark and aggressive; Rafael blatantly masculine against Nathan's effeminate posturing; Nathan weak where Rafael was strong. It horrified Beth to discover the train of her thoughts, and she was angry at Rafael for opening her mind to such disloyal musings. Rafael might be a strong, devastatingly masculine man, but Nathan was good to her, and now she was guilty of betraying him in mind, as well as body. That feeling of guilt made her long to defend Nathan against Rafael's criticism, but there had been a note in his voice that made her tread cautiously. Picking her words with care she said with surprising mildness, "He is not simpering. If someone who pays an inordinate amount of attention to his attire is called a dandy, then I would have to agree that Nathan is a dandy." Her eyes were on Nathan as she spoke, and he happened to look up just then and smile in her direction. Unaware of the way Rafael's eyes narrowed when her face softened or of the warmth in the smile that she sent back to her husband, she added quietly, "A gentle, dear dandy at that."

  There was an expletive from Rafael and his violent surge to his feet caused Beth to stare at him in bewilderment. "Is something wrong?"

  His black eyebrows meeting in a scowl above the arrogantly jutting nose, Rafael snarled, "No! Why should there be?"

  Not waiting for her answer, his hand closed around her slender wrist and, jerking her upright, he snapped, "Walk with me—I want very much to meet this paragon of virtue."

  But there was no need, for Nathan was already making his way toward them. Beth had just enough time to twist herself free from Rafael's grasp and step away from him before Nathan strolled up to them. Smiling politely, Nathan said, "You must be Rafael, Don Miguel's son. We have not met, but I am Mrs. Ridgeway's husband, Nathan."

  The three of them presented a striking tableau—Beth, a slender figure with her ash-fair ringlets and silver-blue gown, standing stiffly between the two taller, darker-clothed men. She was trapped in the middle—Nathan standing in front of her, Rafael looming by her side—and trapped was exactly how Beth felt as she stared from one man to the other. Terrified lest Nathan suspect that something was wrong, she said with a rush, "We were just on the point of joining you. Senor Santana had just said that he wanted to meet you."

  "Oh," he said, looking at Rafael. "Was there a particular reason?"

  Beth's heart seemed to stop as she waited tensely for Rafael's answer, fearful and angry at the same time. If Nathan chanced to guess who this tall, intimidating man was... Unaware that she did it, her eyes clung to Rafael's dark face, a plea shimmering in the violet depths.

  The second Nathan approached, Rafael brought under control the fierce emotions that erupted when Beth smiled warmly at her husband and spoke of him with tenderness. The furious inner battle was not apparent to the others, but Rafael was infuriatingly conscious that instead of smiling and greeting Nathan with charm, he wanted to slit the man's throat—and abduct his wife. Illogically enraged with Beth for being the cause of this ugly conflict, he considered being as disagreeable as possible. But the silent appeal of her eyes stopped him and, not even thinking about it, reacting to the entreaty in her gaze, he found himself saying blandly, "Yes, as a matter of fact there was a particular reason—your tailor, I must have his name. I was just telling your"—he stumbled over the word—"er—wife, how much I admire the cut of your coat."

  Nothing could have been more calculated to please Nathan, and, a gratified smile spreading over his face, he said with pleasure, "Oh, well, thank you very much! I firmly believe that a really good tailor is essential, and I would be most happy to give you the fellow's name. He is very clever, I must say." An anxious expression on his face he added, "You do realize that he is in Natchez? I'm very much afraid that you would have to go to him, rather than the other way around."

  Rafael smiled lazily. "Of course. How could it be any other way? As soon as I saw your coat, I knew it had to have been made east of the Mississippi River."

  In stunned amazement, Beth stood between the two men, her pretty mouth nearly falling open in shock as Rafael continued to speak about the latest in men's fashion as if it were the overriding passion in his life, much to Nathan's evident enjoyment. Neither of them expected her to add to their conversation and her astonished silence went unnoticed by Nathan, if not Rafael. As Nathan happily displayed the lilac satin lining of his frock coat, Rafael sent Beth a sharp look from under his heavy lids, the gray eyes taking in with quick amusement the staggered expression on her face.

  Sebastian's arrival shook Beth from her trancelike state and she breathed a sigh of relief. It was unlikely that Rafael would say anything too awkward in front of Sebastian... at least she desperately hoped that he wouldn't.

  If Beth had been astonished by Rafael's insatiable interest in the intricacies of masculine grooming, Sebastian was astounded. When he discovered that the subject of the earnest discussion between the two men was the superiority of boot blacking mixed with champagne over more mundane concoctions, he could hardly contain himself. Nathan's burning absorption in clothing was no surprise—but Rafael? His cousin dressed impeccably when in company, but he had never before realized that someone he had thought of as the last person to harbor the yearnings of a dandy, had a deep and fervent interest in the tiniest detail of presenting one's self as properly and stylishly attired.

  Guessing Sebastian's thoughts, Rafael groaned inwardly. He must be every kind of a fool to prate this foolish flummery for a plea in a pair of deceitful violet eyes. But it served the purpose, he decided reluctantly. Nathan was disarmed and it had allowed him to take his measure of the man. Rafael's assessment of Nathan was not flattering, but having met English's husband at last, he thought he understood her predilection for the arms of other men. Nathan was a weak, foppish creature, more inclined to worry over the welfare of his wardrobe than his wife and Rafael startled himself by feeling sorry for her. Perhaps she was not as black as he had first presumed, he mused. Curious about their life together, Rafael questioned Nathan about Bri
arwood and Natchez. Nathan, enjoying himself, much to Beth's dismay was happy to babble on about the plantation and Beth's exemplary management.

  Uneasy with Rafael and Nathan together, Beth attempted a dozen times during the next twenty minutes to change the subject or pry Nathan loose, but nothing would deter him. It seemed to Beth, he was determined to reveal, except for the most intimate details, every facet of their life in Natchez, from her experiments in crop rotation to his gambling and jaunts "under the hill." She was determined that Rafael find out as little as possible about them, but Nathan innocently defeated her at every turn and Rafael displayed, she thought angrily, an indecent engrossment in events that were none of his affair. As they all joined Dona Madelina and Don Miguel in walking into the hacienda for dinner, Beth was aware that there was little of her life that Rafael didn't know.

  Seated in the dining room, she shot Rafael a wary glance, wondering what he thought of Nathan's revelations and why he had acted as he had—he could have betrayed her or made Nathan suspicious about their relationship, but he hadn't. Instead, deliberately, she was positive, he had charmed and disarmed her husband, and that knowledge did little to lessen the tight knot of apprehension in her chest. Rafael's lean face gave her no clue, but she surprised a lazily assessing gleam in his eyes that made her uneasiness increase. What was he up to now?

  Chapter 16

  Rafael's thoughts would have astonished Beth had she been privy to them. For the first time in his life he was nonplussed, but his state of mind had little to do with what he had learned from Nathan. Rather it was his reaction to Nathan that perplexed and disturbed him. He had never before hated a man on sight, not even Don Felipe, nor had he ever considered stealing another man's wife. Yet this evening, behind a cool, polite face, he was doing both, and it made him edgy and angry.

  Women had never meant a great deal to Rafael, partly due to his Comanche upbringing and partly due to the lack of any stable relationship with a woman. He had never known a mother's love, and his marriage had not engendered any affection for women within him. As far as he was concerned women served two purposes: They gave a man physical pleasure and bore children. He had never kept a mistress for more than a few weeks, nor had he ever pursued a woman; too many of them displayed an eagerness for his bed that he had found distasteful. There had been several married women amongst those who had known his desire, but their husbands had never aroused any emotion in him but contempt... until now.