While Passion Sleeps

by Shirlee Busbee

  He bent his head, his warm mouth finding a pink nipple, his tongue curling around it, his teeth gently nipping and tasting it. One hand gently cupped the other breast, his thumb rhythmically sliding across it, making Beth gasp with pleasure. With a cry of encouragement she reached for him, but her fingers only met the springy darkness of his head. That seemed to satisfy her for the moment, her fingers reveling in the feel of that thick blue-black hair. But it wasn't enough as Rafael's mouth swung back to hers, his tongue sweetly ravaging her mouth, his lips pressing urgently against hers, and her hands slipped to his shoulders, pushing away the silken robe that covered him.

  Not taking his lips from hers, Rafael shrugged out of the robe, but his hands were too busy to bother with the knotted belt, and against her mouth he breathed, "Untie it, I want nothing between us."

  Beth hesitated, but driven by the same hunger that ate at Rafael, her fingers sought the knot and undid it and the robe fell to the bed, leaving him naked and warm next to her. She didn't stop there. Emboldened, she slid her hand across his taut stomach, shivering with pleasure when he groaned and lightly bit her neck.

  Rafael's hands were exploring her body intimately, his long fingers slipping down her back, his hands curving possessively about her firm buttocks, pulling her closer. His mouth seemed everywhere, on her lips, her shoulders, her breasts, and Beth trembled with the force of the passion he evoked, wanting his hard body on hers with a fierce intensity.

  She began her own exploration, wanting to discover what made this man the one man who could make her lose control of herself and turn her into a wanton creature who only wanted his body to possess hers. Brazenly her hands traveled down the smooth, muscled chest, delighted with the heavy satin feel of it, but not content with that, one hand slid lower until at last her trembling fingers closed around him. The size and heat of him brought a moan of excitement from her lips, and convulsively her hand tightened around him, giving Rafael such a jolt of pleasure that for one agonizing second he was afraid it was all over for him.

  In a shaken voice he murmured, "Sweet Jesus, English! Don't touch me! I am too full of wanting you."

  But Beth was in the grip of sensual discovery; she wanted to continue discovering what made a man's body so very different from a woman's, and gently her fingers caressed the pulsating length of him, excited that she could touch him this way and that her untutored movements gave him as much pleasure as his touch did her.

  It was too much for Rafael and with a muffled groan he jerked himself away from her, gazing down into her face with eyes that were black with emotion. "Don't!" he said thickly, "unless you want me to spill myself on you instead of in you."

  The words filled her with triumph; she was aroused further to know that she could make him lose control of himself, that with her hands she could drive him as wild as he did her. A small satisfied smile curving her mouth, she arched her body up against him, her nipples like twin peaks of fire burning against his chest, and her eyes locked on his, she reached for him again.

  His body jumped when she touched him, and whatever restraint he had placed on himself vanished, his mouth closing with a punishing demand on hers, its urgency and hunger making Beth forget this new tantalizing game she had discovered. Like a famished creature he fed on her mouth, bruising the soft lips, but Beth returned the kiss just as passionately, her newfound sensuality leading her on to new territories as hesitantly she thrust her tongue into his mouth.

  Her tongue was like a darting flame and finding that Rafael was making no attempt to reverse things, she continued her eager exploration of his mouth, inflaming herself as much as she did Rafael. Enchanted with this new aspect of lovemaking, she closed both of her hands around his face, her hands resting gently against his cheeks as she kissed him more deeply.

  There was no way that Beth could tell him what fascinating things she was discovering this night. He would never believe that she had never kissed a man this way, never explored a man's body like this; had never felt the soft-skinned hardness of a man's member. Intoxicated and heady with the discoveries she had made, she let the hot tide of passion sweep over her, ready to go wherever Rafael's caresses would lead her.

  Rafael had made love to many women, but none had ever inflamed or enslaved him as did English—she was a narcotic in his blood as he caressed and explored her slender body. Every other woman he had ever known vanished from his mind and there was only room for English in his brain... and his heart?

  No longer content to merely caress the smooth flesh so near his own, compulsively Rafael's hands sought the small V at the joining of her thighs, and gently, his hand between her legs, he began to thrust his finger within her, making Beth moan and twist with mounting desire. Her breasts ached for his mouth, and sensing it, Rafael left her lips, once again his tongue and teeth teased her nipples, sending sparks of pleasure exploding through Beth's body.

  His mouth traveled from breast to breast before his lips began a slow sensual descent down her diaphragm and across her flat stomach until his mouth was buried in the soft golden curls at the top of her thighs. Beth stiffened and feeling her uncertainty, he stopped and looked up at her with fever-bright eyes. "Let me," he muttered. "You are as beautiful there as anywhere; I want the taste of you on my mouth, the scent of you in my nostrils. Let me!"

  If words themselves can be aphrodisiacs, Rafael's certainly were to Beth. Aroused to a fever pitch, Beth could not resist him and imperceptibly she relaxed, her body quivering with anticipation.

  Gently Rafael pushed her legs apart, his mouth moving with agonizing slowness across the golden curls, and Beth thought her heart would choke her, it was beating so fast. His tongue when it touched her there was exquisite torture, and as it penetrated her, jabbing like a flick of flame, Beth's body went rigid with stunning passion. A moan of pleasure escaped her and convulsively she reached for Rafael, uncertain whether she wanted him to stop or continue. She had no choice in the matter. Having found what he sought, Rafael drew in the perfume of her body, his breath warm and arousing as it seemed to caress her there too. His tongue explored her thoroughly, seeking the inner softness and exploring all the delights of that golden triangle.

  One hand slipped under her hips, bringing her body closer and Rafael held her tightly to his lips as his mouth and tongue drove her mad with ecstasy. She was crying out—she knew she was but for what she couldn't guess—she wanted to touch Rafael, to give him the same wild pleasure that he was giving her, yet all she could do was twist frenziedly on the bed, stunned by the shattering pleasure Rafael's probing tongue evoked.

  Panting, every nerve of her body centered there where his mouth tasted and searched out with such sensual enjoyment, Beth thrashed under his lips, pushing her body hard against his mouth with frantic desire. And then it happened. Wave after wave of incredible pleasure swept over her and she cried out her gratification, her body quivering with the force of emotions unleashed by Rafael's tender assault on her.

  Feeling her response, knowing what she had experienced, Rafael gave a sigh of satisfaction, his body inflamed by her movements and cries. His mouth slowly left its former place, tasting and nibbling as it went before he finally found her lips with his own, his tongue seeking out the wine-sweetness of her mouth.

  The smell and taste of herself on him was strange, but when his hands fondled her breasts and caressed her hips and thighs, Beth's thoughts scattered before the onslaught of his hungry lovemaking. His fingers found her again and to her astonishment she felt the tight knot of desire kindle again, her body wanting him with an overwhelming intensity.

  Rafael shifted and she felt her thighs nudged apart and she was filled with his warm hard shaft. Gently he moved on her, his movements unhurried as if he were taking great pleasure in the feel and heat of her body, but Beth was hungry for more, wanting him to hurry and give her more of the pleasure that only he seemed capable of giving.

  Her hands moved over his broad back and cupped his buttocks, her fingers loving the feel
of the tensing, taut muscles as his body increased its rhythm. "Oh, yes," she breathed against his mouth. "Oh yes!"

  Unable to bear the exquisite denial any longer, Rafael groaned and his body slammed into hers hard and fast, giving them both the pleasure they sought until with a low, incoherent moan Rafael's body fulfilled its purpose. Beth felt his body jump with the power of his release, and the knowledge that she had given him "the little death" sent an explosion of pleasure through her whole body.

  They lay together, their limbs entwined, neither having the wish to disturb the warm intimacy between them. Rafael's mouth was unbearably tender as he kissed her face, lingering on her eyelids and nose before kissing her mouth with such gentleness that Beth felt tears start to her eyes. Both of them, exhausted and spent by the passion that had existed between them, seemed unable to move, their limbs heavy and lethargic with the aftermath of passion.

  Rafael spent the night with her, unable to bring himself to leave her, and twice more before the sun shed its red-gold light at the break of dawn Beth knew the devastation of his possession—the last time a quick, urgent taking that left her breathless by its frantic fierceness. She slipped back to sleep, her head resting contentedly on his strong arm, his lips at her temple, but when she woke, the sun was high in the sky and she was alone—the indentation on the pillow the only indication she had been in his arms.

  Chapter 22

  Rafael rode hard to reach Enchantress, pushing his men as much as he dared. He hadn't wanted to leave Beth, not then, not with the words unspoken between them that needed desperately to be said. Rising reluctantly from beside her warm body in the cold light of dawn, he decided to continue with his original plan. Perhaps it was best he leave her alone, giving her a chance to come to grips with Nathan's death and himself time to learn the extent of his commitment to her.

  Marriage wasn't on his mind even then, but staring at the ruined wreck of Enchantress, he knew he would make it beautiful again and make it beautiful for his own enchantress. With his thoughts still unclear on their relationship, he sent his men about their tasks, clearing away the verdant growth that crowded the old hacienda and hid its former beauty. It was back-breaking work; some thirty-odd years of tangled wood and vine encompassed the house and needed to be removed before anything could be done.

  Enchantress had been beautiful. A small, gemlike Spanish-style house set in a pine forest that sheltered the leafy cinnamon fern and coral honeysuckle, which twined itself about the tall, towering pines themselves. The forest around it teemed with life of all kinds—lovely, fragile wild azaleas, yellow-fringed orchids, and the peculiar-appearing pitcher plants; deer, wood ducks, razorback hogs, cougars, and bobcats, as well as the dangerous rattlesnakes and deadly coral snakes.

  The house had been built almost a hundred years before, and when the creepers and vines were cleared away it had a mellow beauty. Two-storied, with delicate filigreed balconies across the second story and deep-set curved windows, the house pleased Rafael. It had the Spanish red-tiled roof, and though badly in need of repair, the faded tiles gave it charm. It was half the size of the casa grande at Cielo, but walking through the debris-scattered rooms, Rafael was satisfied. The rooms were large and spacious and the arrangement comfortable. Refurbished, the windows cleaned, the walls scrubbed, then tinted and papered, the flooring repaired and covered with carpets, it would be a home that any man would be proud of... and any woman happy to live in.

  Once the house was livable he intended that his men should sleep there until such time as the wagons and other supplies arrived and suitable cabins could be erected for them. With his lieutenant, Renaldo Sanchez, he had walked and explored the forest near the house, deciding where to build the new barn, the corrals, the cabins for the men and which sections of land to clear for the home garden and the like.

  He drove himself hard, not wanting to remain here a minute longer than necessary. Beth and their undecided future were uppermost in his mind. Despite the busy days, time seemed to pass slowly, but finally he was ready to return to San Antonio. Leaving Renaldo with all the necessary instructions, like a man following the irresistible song of a siren, he rode eagerly toward Beth.

  When Beth awakened and found him gone, her first thought had been that she had dreamed their encounter, but staring at the indentation where his head had rested and later, when she dressed and saw the bruising marks of his passion on her body, she knew it had been no dream. Rafael had spent the night in her arms, and she had given herself to him with unstinting ardor.

  The memory of her actions the night before made her face burn red; she wondered what had come over her to behave in such a wanton manner. Thinking of the things she had done to him and what he had done to her, her skin grew hot and her body went weak with desire.

  Ashamed of herself for such wicked reactions to a night that should have filled her with repugnance, Beth left the seclusion of her bedroom, not certain what she would say to Rafael when next they met. She was stunned when she heard the news of his departure from Senora Lopez. She hadn't known what to expect, she wasn't even clear what bearing last night had on her own future, but she was stricken that he had ridden away without a word to her, no message to give her some inkling of his thoughts.

  Feeling used and dirty, she turned away from the kind black eyes of Senora Lopez and walked to the small garden at the rear of the house. Wandering blindly along the small stream that ran there, she thought bitterly, It didn't mean a thing to him! He wanted a body and mine was available. Writhing in shame, she remembered her easy capitulation and this time it brought no wave of desire.

  She had been foolish to think his lovemaking meant anything more to him than a slaking of desire. How stupid of her not to have guessed. And now her life must go on, even if her heart was breaking.

  When Don Miguel and Dona Madelina returned that next day from their visit, they were met by an agitated Senora Lopez. "She is leaving!" she wailed. "This morning she informed me of it! She has been giving her servants orders to ready their wagons and animals so that they might leave on Saturday for Natchez."

  Appalled and seeing the end to all their hopes for a marriage disappearing, both the Santanas rushed to the small salon where Beth was perusing her list of things that should be done before she and her servants could leave. She looked up in surprise when they entered the room in such distress. Concerned for them, she stood up and hurried over to them.

  "What is wrong?" she asked apprehensively, terrified that they might be bringing bad news of Rafael.

  Don Miguel recovered himself first; his face taking on a stern air, he asked gravely, "What is wrong? This unseemly scheme of yours to return to Natchez unescorted is what is wrong! You cannot think to travel that great distance without a man to lend you his assistance."

  Looking fragile and lovely in her black silk gown, the silvery hair looped in braids over her ears, she smiled at him. "Now that my husband is dead, senor, I have no other choice. I must return home. I cannot remain here forever abusing your—" She hesitated and continued, "—and your son's hospitality. I cannot thank you enough for your many kindnesses, but it is time now for me to pick up the reins of my life and begin anew."

  "But you cannot!" cried Dona Madelina. "We have such hopes that you and..." Her voice trailed off at the warning glance her husband shot her. Recovering herself, Dona Madelina said more calmly, "There is no need for you to bustle off this way. Wait until my stepson returns; he can escort you home."

  Pleased at his wife's suggestion, Don Miguel beamed at her. "Yes! It would be unwise for you, a woman alone, to undertake such a journey with only your servants. It is unthinkable! Wait until Rafael returns—he will only be gone a matter of weeks, and then he, I am sure, will be more than willing to accompany you on your journey home."

  That was the last thing Beth wanted. "No, I'm sorry, I cannot delay any longer. I know it is not proper for a young woman to travel without the protection of a male relative or family friend, but I am a widow and I have
no choice."

  There was no swaying her; Beth was adamant in her determination to leave on Saturday. Everyone was distressed at the thought of her departure, including Beth herself. Turning her back on Rafael was causing her untold heartache, but it had to be done. Even with Nathan dead there were barriers between them, she thought miserably as she lay in bed that night. How could she have even begun to think otherwise? He thought her a slut capable of cuckolding her husband at every turn; the way he used her body whenever he felt like it should have warned her that he had no feeling for her. What was to her a matter of earth-shaking importance was nothing to him. Nothing at all, she decided bleakly.

  In spite of the heavy pressure put on her by the Santanas, in spite of the intervention of the Mavericks, Beth held steadfast. She would have left on Saturday, except that Friday evening she came down with one of those fevers so prevalent in the area and which struck without warning.

  At first it was a listlessness and a nagging headache that she put down to depression, but by the time she woke Saturday morning, she had a raging fever and could not leave her bed. It was a violent attack, and for several days there was the very real threat she might join her husband in his lonely grave.

  She spent the next several weeks in bed so weakened by the virulent fever which racked her body she was barely able to lift her head to sip barley water offered her by Senora Lopez and Dona Madelina. The attack left her so drained and helpless that it was well into the first week of May before she left her bed for the first time since she had been taken ill.

  Sebastian returned, looking tanned and rugged, the second day after she had risen from her bed, and he was shocked by her appearance. In her black widow's garb, she appeared so tiny and fragile that he feared a puff of wind would blow her away. The translucent, pale skin, the blue veins at her temples and throat, and the purple shadows under the violet eyes, were clear signs that she had been dangerously ill.