He had been polite all day; she had been able to avoid him because he chose to ride his horse rather than accept the comfort of the coach. Rafael's actions toward her were so stiffly correct that she wondered if she had mistaken his reason for accompanying them.
The reasons for Rafael's cool correctness were simple: He was so icily furious with Beth that he didn't dare trust himself to treat her with anything but punctilious civility. Not only had she caught him off guard by her defiance, but instead of letting her go out of his life as he would have any other woman, he hadn't been able to do so. And what must I do, he thought viciously, but tag along behind her like a lovesick, callow fool!
He did have business in San Antonio, and he had planned to leave this morning for that city. It was equally true that if it hadn't been for Beth he would have left Cielo at first light and could have beaten the slower-traveling Ridgeways there by as much as a half a day. It didn't improve his temper to know why he hadn't done exactly that—English! Damn her beautiful hide!
Rafael had been drinking himself, but Nathan's steady assault on the bottle of brandy disturbed him, and he had thought to suggest that Nathan restrain his desire for the bottle until they were in more appropriate surroundings, but then he shrugged and turned away. Ridgeway was a grown man.
The evening meal, eaten by the light of the flickering campfire, had been uncomfortable. Nathan was by then already far too drunk to be an agreeable companion; though he said nothing particularly offensive, it was embarrassing to watch his less-than-adept handling of the utensils, and his rambling conversation left much to be desired. Between Beth and Rafael there was a tense silence.
With relief Beth sought the privacy of the wagon where she slept at night. But after tossing for some time and still wakeful and restive after a day spent in the close confines of the coach, she slipped on the pale green robe of printed satin that Charity had left lying on the foot of the makeshift bed and climbed down from the wagon.
The camp was quiet except for the faint crackle of the dying fire and soft noises of the horses and oxen as they moved about. Everyone seemed to be asleep except for two men sitting near the remains of the fire, and Beth could make out the outline of a third as he stood guard near the coach. Rafael was nowhere in sight. Mindful of the fact that it wouldn't be wise to wander far, Beth hesitated and then couldn't resist a short walk to the waterfall just out of sight of the camp.
The moon was barely half full, but there was enough light to guide her. She reached the waterfall and, standing by it, listening to the soft splash the water as it tumbled over the rocks before falling into the pool near her feet, she was filled with a sense of peace and tranquility.
It didn't last. She had just reached out and cupped a handful of the sweet water to taste when Rafael's voice made her whirl about.
He was leaning negligently against a tree, his sombrero brim hiding the expression in the gray eyes, but the moonlight revealed the mocking slant to his mouth.
"You didn't really think I was going to let you escape me this easily, did you, English?"
Beth hesitated, not certain of his mood. He didn't appear angry, and yet there was a note in his voice that she distrusted. Exhausted by the struggle within herself, she had nothing left to fight him with and shrugged her shoulders, saying quietly, "No. I hoped you would see the folly in our continued association. Nothing good can come from it, surely you can see that?"
He smiled a dangerously attractive smile and pushed himself away from the tree in one, lithe movement. Tipping back the rim of his sombrero with a finger, his gaze traveled over her body. "Oh, I wouldn't say that, sweetheart, I can think of a lot of good things that could happen between us... have happened between us."
The innuendo was not lost on Beth, and her soft mouth hardened. It was difficult to remain cool, difficult to control the feral urge to throw caution to the winds and release all her inner guilty frustration and turmoil by flinging herself at him, scratching and clawing. Oh, what satisfaction it would give her to knock that mocking smile from his face, she thought fiercely, and one of her hands curved into a determined fist.
Rafael saw the movement and his smile widened. Walking nearer to her, he said softly, "I wouldn't if I were you, English. Touch me and we both know what will happen."
Beth swallowed, wishing he weren't so close to her, wishing she weren't so shamefully aware of the attraction of that long, warm body. She stepped back and felt the cool edge of rock behind her. Trapped, rock to her back and Rafael in front of her, she held her chin up and striving for a calmness she didn't feel, murmured, "I don't think we have anything further to discuss. So if you will just step aside, I'll return to my bed."
"Alone?" he taunted.
She smelled the hint of whiskey on his breath, and, ignoring his question, she asked tightly, "Are you drunk too?"
He shook his head. "Unlike your husband, I know how to hold my liquor. But in the absence of more animated company, I have consoled myself with adequate liquid stimulus."
"You are drunk!"
"No. Your husband is drunk. I have imbibed more than I should have before calling upon a lady, but I am not drunk."
Rafael spoke the truth. He had consumed more whiskey than was wise under their present conditions but even drunk he would still be more in command and control of himself than Nathan. The condition he was in now only made him more reckless than usual, less cautious; more dangerous. Not even conscious that he did it, Rafael lightly traced the side of her face with the fingers of one hand. "You are very beautiful, English. So beautiful that I..." He stopped, the gray eyes searching hers intently as if he sought an answer to some dilemma within their violet depths.
The gentle touch of his hand on her cheek was a sweet agony, and her body trembled with the force of the emotions he evoked. Beth knew she should break the growing intimacy between them, knew she should slap his hand away, but she was caught in the spell of his powerful masculinity. Weakly she began, "Rafael, please..." But his mouth was already descending and the words died in her throat.
He had never kissed her quite this way before; and it was as if the whiskey had banished the hard man she knew and revealed the gentle lover he kept so deeply submerged. There was a wealth of tenderness in his kiss as his mouth moved on hers, and helplessly Beth felt all her opposition vanish, her body seeking his comfort and warmth, her slim arms locking around his neck.
They were lost to the world around them, Rafael drinking deeply of the sweetness Beth was giving freely, Beth accepting the joy of being in his arms once more. His mouth was a soft flame as his lips clung to hers, his hands pulling her closer to him until she could feel the hard, insistent urgency of the growing desire within him.
Her body shuddered against his, the painful ache for fulfillment he had aroused and could assuage so effortlessly coiling in her loins, her breasts full and yearning for the touch of his mouth. As if knowing what she wanted, Rafael unhurriedly pushed aside the silk robe and freed one breast, his lips closing gently around the coral nipple. Beth gave a small moan, her head falling back against the rocks as she arched her body up nearer to his, wanting him and what he was doing against her will.
The snort of one of the horses, not far from where they stood, brought Rafael back to reality. Breathing heavily, his body tight and pulsating with desire to know again the sorcery of Beth's slender body, he lifted his head, listening intently, suddenly aware of the danger in what they were doing. Now was not the time, nor this the place for what he wanted from her, and with a dull fury he acknowledged that the right time and place for him and the woman in his arms might never come to pass... unless he made it happen.
Beth felt his withdrawal, and she was filled with mortification at the wave of disappointment that hit her. Mentally she might try to resist him, but her body showed no such niceties, the yearning ache in her loins very real, the throb of her swollen nipples almost painful.
Only when Rafael was certain that the snort of the horse heralded nothing
sinister, he looked down at Beth with a rueful smile. "As much as I want you, I'm not going to risk a lost scalp or the sight of your lovely hair hanging from a Comanche lance for the joy of it. Sorry, sweetheart, I think the best place for you right now is your wagon. Alone."
Humiliated by her reaction to him and the easy way that he could dismiss what had just happened, Beth stiffened in his arms.
Gripping her shoulders between his hands, he muttered, "I didn't mean that as lightly as it sounded." A wry grin curved his lips. "When I am with you I only concentrate on you... and out here that could be deadly. I am not used to explaining myself, English, but I didn't mean to belittle what just happened. It would be much safer for you if you returned to your wagon, and instead of kissing you I should have given you a blistering tongue-lashing for wandering about in the dark."
Tipping her head back to look up at his harsh features, Beth challenged, "Then why didn't you?"
"You know as well as I do why I didn't." Unable to withstand the lure of the rosy mouth inches from his own, he dropped his dark head and kissed her again, a long, lingering kiss that left Beth weak and yearning for more.
Rafael, too, seemed reluctant to end their intimacy, his arms holding her firmly to him; his lips caressing her jawline. He was in such a strange mood that Beth responded to his warm embrace as she never had before. It must be the whiskey, Beth thought half hysterically. There could be no other reason.
The whiskey had temporarily vanquished his fury and anger, but it was her allure that drew him; he was unable, tonight, to fight against her or the unacknowledged longing of his own heart. Tired after a long day in the saddle, the whiskey had been his undoing, that and Beth in his arms. He couldn't seem to let her go, and even though he knew it was madness, he wanted her next to him and in his arms at any price. Tomorrow he might be just as angry as he had been today, but for the moment, nothing mattered but that English was sweetly yielding under his caresses. She befuddled his brain like wine and he found himself saying things he never would have. His lips nuzzling her ear, he asked huskily, "Did you know that I went to Natchez to find you?" His mouth twisted. "But I heard how happily married you were, so I left."
Beth's eyes widened and she pushed him away, exclaiming, "It was you!"
He glanced down at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"About a year after... after we met, someone told me that a tall, dark stranger was asking about me."
He cocked an eyebrow at her and murmured, "And you just assumed it was me? It could have been Lorenzo, you know."
"Lorenzo is not tall!" she flushed, then bit her lip in vexation, for that had not been what she had meant to say at all. Recovering herself, she said coldly, "Lorenzo would not come looking for me. There was nothing between us, despite what you choose to believe."
Rafael shrugged. "I don't wish to discuss Lorenzo." His eyes wandered over her moon-washed features. "I would much rather discuss us."
"There is no us!" Beth returned stoutly.
"You're lying, sweetheart. You might be married to that poor excuse for a man, but you're mine whether you want to admit it or not.
Incensed and frightened that he might just be right, Beth struggled free of his grasp and, facing him, she snapped, "I don't belong to anyone! Not you, not Nathan, not anyone!"
Rafael grinned. "Time will tell, won't it?"
Smothering an angry retort, she shot him a furious glance and turned on her heels and marched to her wagon. Arrogant beast,
* * *
The house that Rafael had inherited in San Antonio from his maternal grandfather was set at the edge of town near the shallow San Antonio Creek. While Abe Hawkins had lived all of his adult life in Texas, when he had built his home in town, his early roots in Virginia were apparent in its construction. It was two-storied, a rarity in a town built mostly of single-storied adobes, and it had tall, graceful white columns across the front that reminded one of the plantation houses of the cooler, greener state where Abe had been born.
It was not a huge house, but a comfortable one, the rooms large and nicely furnished; fine Brussels carpets flowed throughout the rooms, crimson worsted curtains adorned the windows, and the furniture was upholstered in rich fabrics. The mahogany and walnut tables were polished and gleaming and the pleasant smell of beeswax permeated the air. A bustling little Mexican woman in a loose white blouse and bright full skirt showed Beth and Nathan to their rooms upstairs.
It had been apparent from the excitement and hubbub occasioned by their arrival that Rafael was not often in residence. The servants greeted him with affection and fell over themselves to carry out his casual commands. Beth was left with the distinct feeling that they held him in high esteem.
Beth's room overlooked the rambling creek and the room's appointments were as elegant as those in the rest of the house. A cream-and-pale-rose carpet lay on the floor, gauzy green curtains draped the wide windows, and a sofa with rolled arms and two Queen Anne chairs were set at one end near a pair of doors that opened onto a small balcony. A bed of carved rosewood was at the opposite end of the room with a small lamp table next to it. There was also a massive mahogany wardrobe, a dressing table with a tall gilt mirror, and a marble-topped washstand. If she hadn't known better, Beth would have thought she was in an elegant house in Natchez.
The room pleased her, perhaps because it did remind her of Natchez and made her forget briefly that she was in Rafael Santana's house and that she had to get through several more difficult and dangerous days. Her pleasure evaporated when she discovered that she and Nathan were in totally separated rooms—there was no adjoining door. She and Nathan had not shared a room for a number of years, but Rafael didn't know that; it was odd to put a man and wife in sleeping quarters where there was not some connection between the two rooms.
Nathan seemed to think nothing of it when, after knocking on her door, he entered a moment later. He looked surprised that she should even comment on it.
His gray eyes puzzled, he said, "But it makes no difference, my dear, it is not as if we shared the normal intimacies of marriage."
Forgetting the need to be cautious, Beth snapped, "But he doesn't know that—no one does except ourselves."
"That may be, but I see nothing to complain about simply because our rooms do not connect—I am just down the hall from you."
Realizing that to persist would catapult her into the sort of situation she wished to avoid, she pushed aside her uneasiness and mumbled, "You're absolutely correct—I am just being absurd." Shaking her head as if in amazement with her own actions, she added, "My fussing over such a trivial matter only shows you how much I have allowed this trip to unsettle me. Do not pay me any heed, Nathan."
The subject was put behind them, and in harmony they descended the broad sweeping staircase. The niggling concern over the separate rooms would not leave Beth, and she caught her breath in angry dismay when the thought occurred to her that Rafael meant to take base advantage of the situation.
Beth did Rafael an injustice. He was capable of coolly seducing another man's wife, but a twisted honor prevented him from doing so when the man and his wife were guests under his own roof. Yet it was not an accident that Nathan was placed across and down the hall from Beth; Rafael might not attempt to make love to Beth, but he was damned if he would make it easy for Nathan to seek the bed and charms that were denied him.
Dinner that evening was not particularly lively. Beth concentrated on ignoring Rafael's dark presence at the head of the long table, and Rafael was too conscious of the desirable picture Beth made in lavender silk to do more than absently reply to Nathan's prattle. Nathan, oblivious of the air of tautness between the other two people at the table, was relaxing and enjoying his comfortable surroundings. That Beth was aloof from her host had not escaped him, but instead of being suspicious, he felt it confirmed his earlier opinion—Santana's intimidating presence and forceful features were not appealing to most women, and his wife was only displaying her own good taste in
finding their host not to her liking.
As soon as Nathan and Rafael exhausted the subject of wearing apparel, something they did rapidly, there was little for them to talk about. Since Rafael's incipient dandyism had been feigned the night they met, there was little common ground. Nathan had no interest in the serious topics that interested Rafael and even less in the myriad problems that beset the Republic. By the end of the meal conversation languished and Nathan, facing a dull evening, was searching for some amusement.
If there had been only he and Beth he would have bidden her a fond goodnight and would have gone off to enjoy himself at the various taverns and saloons, spending his evening much in the way he would have in Natchez. While he discounted Rafael's charms on the opposite sex, he was reluctant to leave Beth alone in Santana's house. He didn't fear that Rafael would be guilty ungentlemanly action, but while he wouldn't have given it a second thought if Sebastian had been their host, for some odd reason he felt a strong urge to remain at his wife's side. After mulling over possible entertainments for the evening ahead, he hit upon the notion of renewing their acquaintance with Sam and Mary Maverick.
His suggestion was met with gratifying appreciation. Rafael even went so far as to propose that a message be sent inviting the Mavericks to join them for coffee, which could be served on the large patio at the rear of the house. Beth could have kissed her husband with relief—she would enjoy meeting the Mavericks again and their company would help dispel the dangerous intimacy. Curiosity made her ask Rafael, "Do you know them?"
Rafael smiled. "Yes, I count Sam and Mary among my few friends in San Antonio. That my grandfather, whom they also knew, chose to align himself with a Comanche half-breed never made any difference to them. They were kind to my grandfather and they have been kind to me also."
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