Some of this Beth learned in the days following her recovery, but people seldom talked of it in front of her, considering how Nathan had died.
If the unrelenting war with the Comanches was not trouble enough, in May rumor spread like wildfire that there was an impending invasion from Mexico. It was said that the Indians would be acting as the allies of the Mexicans.
Hearing the rumors the nearer he rode toward San Antonio, Rafael's face grew grimmer and grimmer. It was as he had feared. God damn those stupid, sanctimonious bastards who had thought to hold the Comanche chiefs captive!
The raids and rumors were what finally dissipated the gathering at Rafael's house in San Antonio. Sebastian had already left, the day after his unfortunate conversation with Beth, feeling his place was with his own men in case of trouble and thinking that he needed to put a little distance between himself and the very icy Mrs. Ridgeway. Don Miguel, after much reluctance, not liking the idea of leaving Beth in a house with no male protector, decided that he and Dona Madelina must return to Cielo. Beth would be safe in town, and there was always Lorenzo or the Mavericks to aid her in case of real trouble. Besides, he thought slyly, Rafael's courting would progress at a faster rate if there were not relatives constantly in the house.
In a bewilderingly short time the house was deserted except for Beth, Senora Lopez, and the servants. Manuela stayed behind at Dona Madelina's suggestion and Beth became more and more at ease with her. Manuela had her own reasons for being willing to remain behind in San Antonio—she found Senora Ridgeway a pleasant mistress and she enjoyed her position of being the personal maid of the woman everyone suspected would become the bride of Senor Rafael.
In the small, tight-knit household little escaped the eyes of the servants, and Don Miguel had made his hopes obvious in more ways than one. Excited eager gossip had flown from kitchen to stables, from the lowest housemaid to the highest servant, and Beth had begun to wonder if it were her imagination or if the servants did seem to pay her more attention than was necessary.
Determined to put no impediment in the way of the courtship, before leaving Dona Madelina had taken Senora Lopez to one side and suggested gently that she not pursue her duties as duena too assiduously. With a knowing, dreamy smile she had murmured, "After all, Senora Beth is not an innocent maid who has never known a man... and Senor Rafael is very much a man, si?" Senora Lopez had smiled in agreement, thinking the match eminently suitable.
There was one who did not think so, and in his enthusiasm for the match Don Miguel made two disastrous miscalculations. The first was his letter to his father, written following Nathan's death, in which he expressed his hopes of the marriage, and the second his indiscreet sharing of the scheme with Lorenzo.
How Lorenzo managed to hide his fury from Don Miguel when he heard of the plans spinning in the older man's head he never knew. His heart full of hatred and bitterness, he forced himself to smile and nod as if the news gave him great pleasure. More than anyone he knew these hopes and schemes could become reality. Too well he remembered Consuela's certainty that the little English girl held more than a passing interest for Rafael, even more vividly he remembered Rafael's face when he had found them together. If he had ever considered allowing Beth to return unharmed to Natchez, this new possibility made her death absolutely necessary. Rafael must not marry and sire heirs, if his plans were to come to fruition. And until his own position was secured he dared not kill him. Not yet, not until he had made certain of marriage to Arabela... something he knew Rafael would object to violently. Once he had Don Felipe's permission to pay court to his youngest granddaughter, then would be time enough to arrange for Rafael's tragic demise.
Beth was oblivious of all the plotting going on around her, except for the sudden, embarrassing deference and interest displayed by the servants. She had been depressed when Don Miguel and Dona Madelina had left, for she had grown fond of them. If they treated this parting as only temporary, she knew in her heart that as soon as Don Miguel felt it was safe to send her servants back to San Antonio she would be leaving for Natchez. Watching their cavalcade—the heavily armed vaqueros and the coach that carried the Santanas—move down the dusty streets of San Antonio, her eyes filled with tears. The remainder of the day passed interminably for her as she wandered listlessly through the quiet house.
His thoughts always on Beth, Rafael also found the hours interminable, despite the changing countryside and the feel of the horse beneath him. It never occurred to him to consider the possibility that she would think of leaving for Natchez. Like his father, he found it inconceivable that she travel alone across the Republic with only her servants—especially in these dangerous, uncertain times. Thinking of the horrors of the Comanche attacks along the frontier, he wished that Enchantress was ready for her. She'd be safe and well protected there. Nestled as it was in the pine forests of the eastern part of the Republic, Enchantress was far away from the raiding paths of the Comanches, who kept to the wide flat plains they knew so well.
Beth's image was with him always—a slim, silvery-haired wraith that never left his mind for a moment. At Enchantress she had been everywhere he looked, his imagination seeing her walking under the towering, pungent-scented pines, or seated quietly in the main salon. At night she filled his dreams, her mouth flaming sweetly on his, her arms entwined passionately around his neck, her body arching itself against him and begging for his possession. And now as he rode so unceasingly toward her, with little sleep, few stops, changing horses, from the string of four he had brought with him, in mid-gallop like the Comanches, she rode with him, her lovely face and bright hair a blazing beacon at the end of a long, dark, lonely trail.
Never having loved before, except for the deep fondness be had for his little half-sister Arabela, he didn't recognize the emotions that surged and thudded through his body—he only knew that Beth was his and nothing this side of Heaven or Hell was going to keep them apart. If he did not recognize love, he did acknowledge the bond which had existed between them since he had looked across the ballroom floor at the Costa soiree and had seen her standing shyly next to Stella, and he cursed the wasted years. I should have taken her with me when she asked, he thought, for try as he might he had never been able to forget her. Sometimes months passed without her image invading his mind, and then something, a fair head, a neatly turned figure, or the curve of a pale cheek, would remind him, and he would remember her and curse his own foolishness for remembering.
She had betrayed her husband, and he didn't doubt that if he hadn't put an end to it she would have become Sebastian's lover too. She won't do that to me, he thought grimly. I'll keep her so damned busy that she won't have time for even a thought of anyone else....
It occurred to him that half his rage, the day he found her and Lorenzo in bed together, had not been the discovery that she was a woman of easy morals, but that the man she had chosen to cuckold her husband with was someone other than himself. God knows, he'd been willing enough. He smiled mirthlessly realizing how ridiculous his thoughts were.
She wasn't going to have the chance to put a pair of horns on him, he decided firmly. He'd exhaust that bewitching body with his lovemaking and keep her filled with child. The idea of Beth swollen with his child was a new, unexpected thought, a startling thought. I might just have to marry her after all, he conceded with angry despair.
The idea of marriage was repugnant to him—life with Consuela had assured that. He had no intention of falling into that particular trap again, no matter how desperately he wanted the woman, yet all his actions of the past weeks had been those of a man contemplating marriage, and he knew it.
The conflict within him was not something to be easily overcome. He wanted Beth, wanted her as he had wanted no other woman, and with that wanting came the desire to bind her to him in every way that he could—his protection, his possessions, his body, his children and... marriage. He fought against it, but he couldn't control the anguished longing, the hungry yearning to hold her once
more in his arms and to taste the honey of her mouth.
His emotions shredded raw by the battle raging within him, Rafael reached San Antonio by mid-May, in an uncertain temper. His mood wavered between the sweet anticipation of seeing Beth again and an antagonism that simmered just under the surface. It did his temper little good to discover that his quarry was not there, the servants informing him of the changes in the household and that Senora Ridgeway and Senora Lopez were visitors at the Maverick household and would be back later.
He took the news of the departure of the others indifferently, but his eyes narrowed and his mouth curved unpleasantly when Santiago, his personal servant in San Antonio, mentioned that Senor Mendoza had been a frequent visitor during the time he had been gone. Earnestly Santiago said, "When Don Miguel left, he was most grateful for Senor Mendoza's offer to see after the ladies until you returned." Rafael snarled under his breath and ordered a bath and a change of clothes.
It turned out that the visit to the Mavericks was protracted, for Rafael had time not only to bathe but dress in a pair of tight-fitting black calzoneras trimmed with silver lace and silver buttons, and a white shirt with long, full sleeves that billowed near his wrists where the material was sewn into the narrow cuffs. He wore the shirt half open, exposing a V of smooth brown skin that nearly met the scarlet sash wound around his waist, and with his face burned even darker by the days in the sun, his blue-black hair crisp and clean from the bath, and the smoky-gray eyes bright between the thick, black lashes, he looked magnificently male.
Beth and Senora Lopez had not returned when he descended the stairs and hungry, for he had eaten little but handfuls of dried corn and strips of venison jerky during his grueling race to San Antonio, he requested that some food be prepared for him. It was only after he had eaten a hastily served meal of tortillas rellenas and the ever-present frijoles de olla along with several glasses of tequila that Beth and Senora Lopez arrived back at the house.
Rafael was lounging in the front salon when he heard their voices out in the main hall. He had been drinking and he had been thinking—not nice thoughts. The news that just as soon as his back was turned Lorenzo and Beth seemed to seek each other out aroused his suspicion. I am, he thought grimly, a fool. To think that I nearly let that lovely face blind me. Adding to his growing suspicion, who should be escorting the ladies home but Lorenzo.
If Don Miguel had made a drastic miscalculation by informing Lorenzo of his hopes of a marriage between the widow and his son, Lorenzo had miscalculated Rafael's return to San Antonio. When he heard of the plans concerning Enchantress from Don Miguel, he had dismissed it as dust thrown in the eyes of everyone to hide Rafael's true destination—the high plains and a meeting with the Comanches to attempt to dissuade them from joining with the Mexicans. Because he had assumed Rafael would be occupied far away in the Palo Duro Canyon area, he hadn't expected him back for several days yet. To find him sitting comfortably in the salon was an unpleasant shock.
Lorenzo and the two ladies entered the salon, unaware of Rafael's return, and Senora Lopez was politely pressing Lorenzo to remain for some light refreshment when Rafael unhurriedly uncoiled his tall frame from its relaxed position. Lorenzo saw him first. He stiffened, aware that there was no Don Miguel to intercede for him and that he was in his enemy's house.
Beth and Senora Lopez noticed him only a second after Lorenzo did, and Senora Lopez's excited greetings gave both Lorenzo and Beth a moment to gather their wits. For Lorenzo it was easy—all he had to do was beat a hasty retreat, which he promptly did, disappearing so quickly and abruptly that Senora Lopez stared after him in surprised disapproval. For Beth it wasn't as easy, the unexpected sight of Rafael causing her heart to behave in a most incomprehensible fashion, plunging to her toes and then leaping to her throat. There was a giddy feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she knew an almost uncontrollable urge to fling herself into his arms. For one second she was full of joy at his return, feeling more alive than she had in weeks, but that feeling was gone so swiftly it might never have existed, remembering that last disgraceful night they had spent together and the lies he had told Sebastian.
For Rafael there was no one else in the room but Beth. His eyes, their expression shadowed, traveled up and down with a hidden, hungry assessment. She was dressed in black, a high-necked gown with tight-fitting long sleeves made of taffeta and trimmed with black lace at the throat, wrists and down the front to her waist. Her fair hair was braided and arranged in a coronet and there was a faint flush to her cheeks. She was, he discovered warily and a little puzzlement, angry—and the anger seemed to be directed at him. Now, why? Surely, I am the one to be angry, you lovely, little wanton.
Beth was angry. The first foolish rush of emotion at seeing him again had been conquered, and she was left with only the hurt and fury that had been her companion since Sebastian had told her that Rafael had named her his mistress. At night as she had lain sleepless in her bed, she had been tormented by the memory of Rafael's lovemaking in that very bed and the pain Sebastian's words had given her. She had known that Rafael did not hold her in high esteem—his actions were evidence of that. But she found it a bitter draught to swallow that he had vilified her to Sebastian. Now that she was face to face with her accuser, she felt an anger the like of which she had never known sweep through her, until only by exercising the greatest self-control was she able to keep from flying across the room to scratch and claw at Rafael's cold face.
They greeted one another with frigid politeness, Senora Lopez thinking with disappointment that, perchance, everyone had misjudged the affair, but then she caught a flicker of something in Rafael's eyes that made her smile. So, he isn't indifferent, she thought happily to herself.
Remembering Dona Madelina's advice, she withdrew from the room, mentioning an errand that the remaining two never heard, their engrossment with one another too keen to be disrupted by softly spoken words.
The moment Senora Lopez left the room, Rafael turned away and, pouring himself another glass of tequila, he growled over his shoulder, "I see that you and Lorenzo have managed to renew your acquaintance. Is he as satisfactory a lover as I? Or are you still making comparisons?"
His eyes damning her, he flung himself down on the sofa he had recently vacated. "Well? Haven't you an answer?" he demanded. "Or is your silence meant to be an answer?"
Like an alabaster-and-ebony statue Beth faced him, the sheer fury scalding through her made her earlier rush of anger seem like milk-water. His unfair taunts were the final insult and something happened to Beth in those fleeting seconds as she stared across at her dark-faced tormentor, changing her forever. The white-hot rage that consumed her woke the sleeping tigress that had always lain within her breast, and gone forever was the shy, apprehensive girl who had married to escape an indifferent father and cold stepmother, the gentle compassionate girl who had placated and soothed a selfish, impotent husband, and the gullible girl who had gone to make peace with Consuela only to be cruelly used. Even the reserved, outwardly composed young woman Rafael had discovered at the Rancho del Cielo had vanished, leaving the defiant woman who stood in front of him now. Beth wasn't aware of the change within herself; all her energies were directed at Rafael's arrogant figure. Words fought in her throat for utterance, but they were too hot, too angry to make any sense, and with the newly aroused spirit and rebellion driving her, she sought for some physical means of giving him the answer he deserved.
Without thinking, Beth crossed swiftly to the crystal decanter and with a strangled cry she snatched it up and spun around to face him. The crystal felt cool under her fingers, the tequila sloshing about and giving it a satisfactory weight as she held it in her hand. She flew across the few feet that separated them and in a voice shaking with rage she snarled, "You insufferable beast! You dare condemn me with no knowledge of the truth, and yet you tell lies about me that are more vile than anything I could ever do!"
He cast a watchful eye toward the crystal decanter she held a
nd demanded just as angrily as she, "What the hell do you mean?" His eyebrows met in a scowl above his nose and an aura of explosive anger radiated from him."I don't tell lies about anyone—not even you."
"Liar!" Beth returned hotly, the violet eyes flashing. "You lied to Sebastian when you told him I was your mistress and had been for a number of years."
A mirthless sort of smile crossed the lean features. "Oh, that."
Beth nearly choked on her rage but taking a deep, steadying breath, she suddenly smiled—rather sweetly. "Yes, that!" she hissed and brought the crystal decanter down on his dark head.
The sound of the decanter connecting with Rafael's head gave a gratifying thud in the room before the fragile crystal shattered and shards of glass and splatters of tequila went flying in all directions. With satisfaction, she surveyed Rafael's astonished features. Pieces of broken crystal sparkled in the thick blue-black hair plastered wetly against his scalp, and his white silk shirt clung damply to his shoulders as he sat staring up with narrowing eyes at her pleased expression.
Like an enraged panther he erupted from his seat, swearing and shaking his head, drops of tequila and even tiny splinters of glass hitting Beth. "Why, you damned little hellcat! I ought to throttle you and be done with it!"
Beth wasn't going to be intimidated by him this time and when he loomed up so darkly dangerous in front of her, she didn't back down. Thrilled and delighted at her bravery, with arms akimbo she faced him and yelled belligerently, "Just you try it! Lay one hand on me and I'll scratch your eyes out."
He glared at her, knowing that strangling her was the last thing he wanted to do. Sweet Jesus, but she was beautiful, he thought foolishly as his gaze wandered from the shining coronet of silvery braids to the soft, coral mouth. Some of his earlier anger faded and he was very much afraid that no matter what she ever did, no matter how many lovers she had, she would always have the power to touch him, to shatter the cold, defensive shell he kept around himself. The thought terrified him, to think that one slender woman could destroy a lifetime of carefully erected protections against... love. He shied away from that idea, unwilling to admit such folly, and angry again that she could make him consider such a thought.
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