Louisiana 08 - While Passion Sleeps

by Shirlee Busbee

  "Ha! I rather expected you to threaten me—what else could I expect from a barbarian like you? It is despicable that I, with the most noble blood of Spain flowing in my veins, should be so humbled and so degraded to have a husband like you!"

  Silently watching the two of them, Elizabeth had the feeling that Consuela frequently threw that statement at Rafael's head, and she pitied him. He caught the look of pity in her eyes and a muscle bunched in his jaw.

  "Don't," he said quietly. "Don't ever look at me like that again."

  Instantly Elizabeth dropped her gaze, appalled by the rage that had so swiftly lit those gray eyes. He would hate pity, she realized with a pang. Hate it and anyone who offered it.

  "What in the world is going on in here?" Stella demanded from the doorway. "I have been waiting for ages for you, Elizabeth. Didn't the servant find our things?"

  "N-no. I did. They are right here," Elizabeth answered feebly, wondering how much Stella had overheard and what conjecture she put on the three of them here in the room.

  "Oh, hello, Dona Consuela. Did you enjoy the soiree?" Stella murmured politely.

  Consuela shot her a look of pure venom, and as she was not a particularly beautiful woman, with a prom-

  inent nose and a mouth both thin and ungenerous, it made her appear almost ugly. "I might have known she would be a friend of yours!'' Consuela said disagreeably. "It seems there is no one in this benighted land who is not common and vulgar, and without any morals at all"

  "Now, what do you mean by that?" Stella asked smoothly, her dark eyes narrowing with quick temper.

  "As if you didn't know!" Consuela shot back nastily. "You probably encouraged her, hoping I would be humiliated."

  Stella smiled sweetly. "Oh no, senora, you do that often enough all by yourself—you certainly don't need any help from me! And I would thank you to leave Beth out of any argument you may have with me or your husband."

  "If this were Spain," Consuela began angrily—but Rafael's furious ''Basta ya!" stopped her from saying anything further.

  Glancing exasperatedly at Stella, he said, "Stella, amiga, will you take the little one away?" With difficulty he added, "I am sorry this had to happen."

  Her sallow skin mottled with rage, Consuela burst out, "You apologize to them! What about me? Am I, may God have mercy on me, not your wife? It is / who deserve an apology from everyone in this room! I demand it!"

  His mouth taut with equal rage, Rafael snapped icily, "Leave it, Consuela! Don't make this any more unpleasant than it already is."

  ''Ay! Ay! I should have expected that from you. You will allow me to be insulted in this fashion and then you will do nothing to alleviate my shame, my pain. You are truly a savage, Rafael. A dirty, thieving Comanche savage like your grandmother!"

  "Stop it, Consuela," he said quietly. "Stop it before you lose your temper."

  "And if I don't, what will you do—kill me? You would like to do that, wouldn't you?" she spat out viciously. "I wonder why you have not hired some of your filthy, estupido savages before now to rid you of a wife like myself!"

  The gray eyes nearly black with fury, Rafael's hand snaked out and fastened with dangerous strength around Consuela's wrist. "I might just do that he bit out cruelly. "I'm surprised that I hadn t thought ot it before now!" Then, as if unable to bear the sight of her any longer, her threw her wrist violently away from him and flung out of the room.

  I

  I

  I

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Elizabeth was never certain what happened next, for her jumbled thoughts didn't untangle themselves until at least an hour later when, wearing a soft nightgown, the silvery hair in two long braids resting on her breasts, she sat on the bed in the house on Esplanade Avenue sipping hot chocolate. Stella was with her, also partaking of a cup of chocolate as she lounged on the corner of Elizabeth's bed.

  "Do you want to talk about it?" Stella asked quietly.

  Elizabeth gave her a wan smile. "There isn't really anything to talk about. Mr. Santana followed me into the cloakroom and his wife found us there, and you know the rest."

  Not looking at Elizabeth, Stella questioned carefully, "Did Consuela have a reason to fly into a rage?"

  A guilty expression on her face, Elizabeth admitted, "I suppose so. Mr. Santana did kiss me, but how she could know that I don't know." Her eyes troubled, she added softly, "It was wrong, I know, but I've never met anyone like him before, Stella. I couldn't have stopped him, and the simply horrid thing is that I didn't want to stop him!" She gave a sad little sigh. "I must be a wanton woman—why else would I allow a perfect stranger such intimacy?"

  "I rather doubt that you allowed Rafael Santana to do anything!" Stella returned dryly. "Knowing Rafael, honey, you didn't stand a chance if he had made up his mind to kiss you. I'm sorry that he took such a liberty, and especially sorry that Consuela had to cause an ugly scene. By tomorrow Consuela will be screeching out the story to everyone who will listen, and unfortunately, there are more than a few who will listen! I'm certain,

  too, knowing what a witch she is, that quite a few embellishments will be added to the story. I just hope that your husband doesn't decide to challenge Rafael to a silly duel. That would put a cap on the whole sordid affair!"

  Elizabeth's lower lip began to tremble, and she knew that in another second she was going to be weeping like a child. Vainly trying to hide her growing distress, she swallowed painfully and murmured unhappily, "Oh, Stella, everything is such a wretched tangle! I don't want to be the subject of gossip, nor do I want Nathan to fight a duel over me! And I would give just about anything if Mr. Santana had not followed me! But more than that, I wish that Nathan had been there with me, and that he and I had the sort^of easy relationship you and Juan share."

  Stella sent her an affectionate smile. "Now, honey, don't carry on so. You and Nathan will do just fine. Time is all that you need to make a happy marriage. Why, I'll wager that in a few months you'll look back on this conversation and wonder how you could have been such a ninny. And as for Consuela, let's just hope that somehow Rafael can convince her not to create a full-blown scandal. If anyone can, it'll be Rafael." Stella hesitated and then went on in a slightly worried tone of voice. "I just wish that Juan and I were not leaving day after tomorrow. With us gone there'll be no one except Rafael to countermand what I'm sure will be Consuela's vicious lies. What we certainly don't want is for her to make so much scandal that it follows you to Natchez!"

  Appalled, Elizabeth stammered, "B-but why would she do that? She hates Rafael, even I could tell that! Why would she slander me and expose the fact that her husband finds other women more appealing than herself? If I found Nathan in a compromising situation, I definitely wouldn't want it to be broth for all the scandalmongers!"

  "Nor would most women. But then, you would have to understand Consuela Valadez de Santana," Stella returned dryly. She would have stopped there, but Elizabeth said in a small voice, "Please go on—I would like

  to know how he could have married such a woman. How could he love her?"

  Stella's mouth twisted wryly. "That, my pet, is most of the problem. Rafael and Consuela's marriage was arranged for them. You see, despite the Comanche half-breed grandmother, Rafael's family is very wealthy and aristocratic. It is a long story, but basically this is what happened. Rafael and his mother. Dona Faith, were captured by the Comanches when Rafael was about two years old."

  Elizabeth's cry of distress caused Stella to stop and look at her. "Honey, don't be so shocked—the Comanches always take captives, and women and children are stolen regularly. No one knows how many white captives the Comanches have, and it is the one thing on the frontier that every woman dreads. Few if any are ever heard of again, but occasionally, as in the case of Rafael's mother, word does come back." Stella frowned as she tried to remember the sequence of events. "I've heard the tale from my mother often enough, but I can never recall how long afterward a Comanche half-breed came into San Antonio and told of Don
a Faith's death. I think it was about two years later, and he said that she had died the previous year. At any rate, she was dead, but he had seen the boy, Rafael, and said that the child had been adopted by a Comanche family and was thriving."

  Her eyes wide and wondering, Elizabeth asked, "Didn't anyone try to find him? They didn't just leave him there, did they?"

  Stella made a face. "Beth, it's so difficult to explain— there are so many bands of Comanches and they move about constantly. The distances are so great, some areas not even yet explored by white men, and it is almost impossible to meet with them... under friendly circumstances. It's as if the captives disappear off the face of the earth—some are traded to other bands and tribes and some simply die. The Santanas were lucky to even know that Dona Faith was actually dead. Sometimes years pass before anyone knows for certain the fate of a captive." Her voice gloomy, she added, "Sometimes never."

  "And what happened then? Once they knew Dona Faith was dead and Rafael still alive, what did they do then?" Beth wanted to know.

  "Nothing. I think, and so do a lot of other people, that Don Felipe was perfectly happy with the situation. Certainly he wasted little time in arranging a very suitable second marriage for Don Miguel, Rafael's father. That marriage, I might add, produced only girls, much to Don Felipe's disgust."

  "And?" Elizabeth prompted impatiently, wanting to hear of Rafael.

  "And, I guess, when it became apparent that there was going to be no male heir, Don Fehpe began to think about the grandson stolen bylhe Comanches. I don't know how he did it—everyone thinks it was through that same half-breed, who was in and out of San Antonio all the time—but Don Felipe finally had Rafael tracked down and identified, and then had him captured by his men. It was risky and dangerous, but Don Fehpe was set on it—his Spanish pride wanted that male heir, and even one with Comanche blood in his veins and raised by the Comanches would be acceptable."

  Her voice full of sympathy for the young Rafael, Elizabeth asked softly, "And Rafael? How did he feel? Was he happy to be reunited with his family?"

  Reluctantly Stella confessed, "Rafael was, from what anyone will say about what happened, little better than an animal, and it took them almost three years of literally 'taming' him on the family rancho before Don Felipe felt it was safe to send him to Spain for further education and training. It was while he was in Spain that his grandfather arranged the marriage with Con-suela's family. Both Consuela and Rafael were forced to bow to family pressure—unfortunately for them! I've often wondered," Stella mused, "what pressure could have been put on Rafael to make him agree to the marriage. The only thing that comes to mind is that his grandfather threatened some sort of retribution against the Comanches—perhaps Don Felipe specifically named Rafael's Comanche family. It must have been drastic to make him marry Consuela."

  Frowning, Elizabeth asked, "How do you know so much about Rafael's family? I wouldn't think that what you're telling me would be common knowledge."

  Stella grinned. "Now, that's where you're wrong. Everyone in San Antonio knows about Rafael Santana! When his mother was captured by the Comanches it couldn't be hidden, nor when Rafael was stolen back— although no one knew about that until almost a year later—not even his father was privy to Don Felipe's actions! For one reason or another Rafael has always been the subject of gossip—even before he was born!"

  "But why?" Elizabeth inquired with puzzlement.

  Her grin fading and in a more serious tone of voice, Stella replied, "You see, Don Felipe has never forgiven his son for marrying the daughter of a half-breed Comanche and an American trapper. Everyone knew how strongly Don Felipe objected to the marriage, and I guess, again from what my mother says, that the marriage caused the town to buzz for weeks. Don Felipe apparently didn't precisely forbid the marriage, but he did everything he could to stop it short of outright force. And since then, everything that has happened to Rafael or anything he does only adds to the gossip."

  Somewhat earnestly Elizabeth said, "It must be very hard for him to know that no matter what he does people will be talking about him."

  "Ha! Not Renegade Santana! He doesn't give a damn what people say! Why, the first thing he did when he returned from Spain was disappear with the Comanches for a year! Then, with all the wealth and power of the Santana family behind him, what did he do but strike out with old Abel Hawkins, his maternal grandfather, and trap wild horses until Abe died a couple of years ago." Stella gave an odd little smile. "For that I almost admire him. Everything he owns, except what he inherited from Abe, he earned, and to Don Felipe's fury he refuses to live the life Don Felipe thinks is suitable for his heir." Stella's smile grew wider. "When Rafael joined the Texans in rebelling against Mexico, everyone thought the old man was going to die of sheer rage!" Stella's smile faded and she added seriously, "Rafael's joining with the Texans came as a surprise to a

  lot of people—Texans included, though there are quite a few of them who are very happy he threw his lot in with them, Sam Houston among them/'

  Toying with the hem of her blanket, Elizabeth asked with studied indifference, "And Consuela, how does she fit into his life?"

  Stella grimaced. "She doesn't! They have lived apart for years. The marriage was already over when they arrived from Spain four years ago, and it's only gotten worse since then. Rafael avoids her, and with good reason—she is detestable!"

  Elizabeth frowned. "But if that is the case, how is it that she is here in New Orleajjs with him?"

  "Ah, she is here... but not with him! And I'll wager that Don Felipe is behind it." At Elizabeth's questioning look she added, "He wants a great-grandson, and how can he get one if Consuela and Rafael are never together?"

  Elizabeth blushed and said with difficulty, "Doesn't it bother Rafael to upset his grandfather?"

  "He thrives on it! Certainly he enjoys watching his grandfather turn purple with rage when word of his latest transgression filters back. There is such bitter hatred between those two that I often wonder how it will end. If Rafael were not Don Felipe's only male heir, I would fear for his life."

  "His grandfather would not kill him! I can't believe that, Stella. Surely you are exaggerating?"

  "You don't know Don Felipe, and if Don Miguel were to father another son on his second wife, Rafael's life wouldn't be worth a burnt candle. Sometimes I wonder who hates him the most—his wife or his grandfather."

  "Is that why Consuela would spread lies about me? To hurt him?"

  A considering expression on her face, Stella said slowly, "Partly. And partly to discredit you in Rafael's eyes, I think."

  "Discredit me?" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Why would she do that? Especially if she doesn't want him anyway?"

  "Ah, therein lies the secret. You see, she doesn't want Rafael herself, nor does she make any secret of the fact

  that she cannot bear for him to touch her. Which is why she often condones the various women who share his bed—and that is also common knowledge. Sometimes I could strangle Rafael for deliberately flaunting his carryings-on. But you see, while Consuela doesn't want Rafael for herself, he is her husband, and she doesn't want him to have any sort of lasting relationship with another woman. Aputa or a whoring wife she can stomach, but someone who might mean something to Rafael she wouldn't put up with. And honey, I hate to tell you this, but while Rafael is notorious around women, I must confess you are the first innocent I have ever seen him trifle with. Usually his affairs are with older married women who know precisely what they are letting themselves in for. Normally, he doesn't display interest in someone as young and obviously naive as yourself" Frowning, Stella admitted slowly, "And that's what worries me. If Consuela thinks you are different, that more than just a physical desire is motivating Rafael, then she'll do her damnedest to not only destroy you, but any interest Rafael may have. Now, do you see why I'm worried?"

  Elizabeth nodded her head, her eyes wide and just a little fearful. In a shaken voice she murmured, ''Oh, how I wish I had never gone to that soi
ree—but most of all I wish you weren't leaving! What ever am I to do, Stella?"

  "Come now!" Stella said bracingly. "I have probably overemphasized the situation and you have nothing to fear. Rafael will more than likely soothe Consuela's suspicions, and if we are fortunate, what happened tonight between you and Rafael will go no farther. And if the very worst happens, just hold onto the thought that shortly you and Nathan will be leaving New Orleans and any scandal behind you. Truthfully, I don't honestly think she can create much of a scandal on what little she discovered tonight. Remember, all she really knows is that you and Rafael were alone in the cloakroom for a few minutes—and while she has a vicious tongue, there is only so much she can say about it."

  "I hope so," Elizabeth said gloomily. "What a horrid 81

  ending to my first soiree. I don't think Til ever be able to attend another without remembering this one."

  "Don't be so dramatic, honey," Stella chided. "A year from now all this will be behind you. Now go to sleep and don't think about it. Think only good thoughts, and think of how you were enjoying yourself before Rafael brought himself to our notice."

  "You're right," Elizabeth admitted a little shamefacedly. "I am, I know, turning this into a high tragedy, and I shall stop it immediately."

  "Gk)od! Now sleep well, Beth, and I'll see you in the morning."

  Waking shortly after ten o'clock to a bright, sunny morning, Elizabeth took tinae dressing, and consequently it was well after eleven before she descended the stairs in search of Stella. Finding her way to the room where they had dined the evening before, she was met there by a servant who informed her that Senor and Senora Rodriguez were out at the moment but that Dona Stella would return shortly. In the meantime would Mrs. Ridge way like some hot chocolate and some fresh croissants? Mrs. Ridgeway definitely would!

  So it was that Stella found Elizabeth happily munching away on the flakiest pastry she had ever eaten in her life, when she returned about a half-hour later.