"Grood! I suggest that we start back for the hacienda—Miguel is bound to be incensed already at the way I spirited you away from your guests, and to stay
away another night would certainly bring down his wrath upon my head."
Rafael looked singularly unconcerned about that possibility, but some of Sebastian's good humor evaporated as the memory of Beth in Rafael's arms returned. Seeing Sebastian's mouth tighten and certain of the reason for it, Rafael cursed under his breath, very close to hating Beth Ridge way.
Yet the brief trip away from the hacienda and the attendant entanglements had accomplished as much as Rafael could hope for in such a short time—Sebastian was much easier with him now, and the old bond between them seemed almost as strong as before. Time was Rafael's best ally; he woufd have to stand back and allow it to work its healing process.
Sebastian said nothing as they rode toward the hacienda, although his face did take on a grimmer aspect with every mile that brought them closer to a meeting with Beth. And something that had been bothering him since Rafael had first confessed that Beth was his mistress finally took shape. Twisting in his saddle to look at Rafael's impassive features, he said suspiciously, "It must have been a very long-distanced affair between the two of you. I mean with you here in Texas most of the time and Beth tidily tucked away on a plantation near Natchez, you must not have met very often."
Not even glancing at him, Rafael replied coolly, "We didn't... but it was often enough." His voice hardening unexpectedly, he said savagely, "Believe me, it was more than often enough!"
Startled by the violence in Rafael's voice, Sebastian stared at him, even more confused. Why the hell did Rafael sound like he hated his mistress?
Rafael was not a liar by nature, and it galled him to be forced to continue to lie, especially to Sebastian. Nor did he like being accountable to anyone for his actions, and he found himself in a most infuriating and uncomfortable position, caught up in a mass of lies and half-truths about English, even further complicated by his undeniable desire for her. He did hate her at the moment, as much for his belief in her entrapment of Sebastian as the urgent hunger to see her again that
was clawing painfully through his body. But he fought against that hunger, unwilling to admit that he was eager, for once in his life, to see the red-tiled roof of the hacienda come into sight, and that the reason for his eagerness was a silver-haired, violet-eyed witch who was never far from his mind. He was not, he thought furiously, going to be taken in by that lovely, falsely innocent face again. Once was all he could bear!
It was late afternoon by the time they reached the hacienda. The companionable silence between them was slightly strained as they rode through the iron gates. Leaving their horses at the stables, they walked together toward the house, neither having a great deal to say to the other, and yet neither wishing to end what had been a fairly enjoyable time on this increasingly uncomfortable note. Just before they entered the courtyard from the rear, avoiding the main part of the house, Rafael halted, and facing Sebastian, he muttered angrily, "This is a damnable situation, amigo! If I could change things, I would."
It was the nearest Rafael would ever come to an apology, and Sebastian recognized it. He was also becoming more and more aware that Rafael's involvement with Beth was one of those hellishly unfortunate coincidences... for him. There was no way that Rafael could have known that he would lose his head over a woman the other man considered his own. It was, Sebastian decided hollowly, just damned bad luck on his part that the first woman he had ever considered marrying had to be this one. His voice faintly muffled, he said, "Forget it, Rafael! I can't deny that I did cherish certain notions about her that I can see now were absurd. And I must confess that I never received the least bit of encouragement from her." Painfully he admitted, "Fve finally had to realize these past several hours that Beth only sees me as a friend—has always seen me as friend—so don't go thinking that she has played you false."
A tight smile on his mouth, the gray eyes inexplicably icy, Rafael retorted instantly, "I am relieved! I would hate to damage that delicate hide of hers by
beating the hell out of her for playing the flirt with you/'
Sebastian smiled feebly, his heartache easing slightly, and seeking for their old footing, he murmured, "I'm sure that I could think of something better to do with that delicate hide, as you call it, than give her a beating—even a deserved one."
Rafael laughed out loud at that. An amused glint in his eyes, he agreed, "So could I, amigo, so could I."
They parted a moment later, and each man felt pleased that they had managed to brush through a rather difficult situation with as little animosity and pain as possible.
It had been near the end of <^e siesta when the men had returned, and as she dressed for the evening, Beth was unaware that Rafael was once again at the hacienda. But she was prepared for him this time and half expected to meet him when she joined the others.
In a way it had been a tactical 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 smashing her equanimity. 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 really wasn't much choice in a plan to escape the trap she was in. There was only one path open to her; she was going to have to defy his arrogant order that she remain at the hacienda. It was too dangerous to remain, and so 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 readily enough when she had approached him about it. She had spent a restless night tossing and turning, searching madly for some solution, and flight seemed the answer. Leaving the hacienda and Rafael's disturbing presence was the only sensible thing to do. As she had been so a^isensible about this entire disastrous journey so far, she was determined at least to do the sensible thing at its ignoble end.
Beth had dressed with meticulous care, telling herself repeatedly it was only to bolster her confidence and
had absolutely nothing to do with wanting Rafael San-tana to look at her with masculine appreciation. The gown she had finally 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-trinmied 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 with its innocently sultry curve was a rosy invitation that most men would find hard to refuse.
Certainly Nathan found himself unable to resist it when he met her as she left her rooms. Stopping almost abruptly at the sight of her, he reached out for one of her hands and, drawing her near to him, he dropped a gentle passionless kiss on her lips. "How lovely you are this evening, my dear. It must be that traveling agrees with you... or"—his eyes suddenly questioning—"is it the thought of our departure tomorrow that turns you into this fairy creature?"
She smiled at him demurely 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 complete 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 animatedly to her.
Beth chose a seat near the fountain and, sipping her 245
glass of Sangria, she chatted pleasantly 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 passionately to be precisely 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 immensely—and 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. And yet those same things made Beth feel despicable, aware, as the others were not, of the hidden shadowy reefs that could suddenly and without warning rip apart the tranquillity of the hacienda.
Don Miguel was especially kind to her, and 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, almost as if he understood the yearning, adventurous heart that beat beneath the soft white breast, he had patiently answered her impetuous questions.
And this evening proved to be more of the same. While Nathan and Dona Madelina pragmatically 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 always with her these past few days were forgotten for the moment, 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, 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, 'Terhaps 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, an incredibly beautiful dreamer."
Remembering the foolish, romantic dreams she once had, an unmistakably sad expression flitted across the small face. Seeing it, Don Miguel leaned forward and, laying a warm hand over hers, he asked concernedly, ''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 heait thumping madly under the bertha of lace.
"Ah, my son, how like you to appear at such an inopportune moment," Don Miguel replied calmly as he turned to glance at his son.
"Inopportune? Now somehow I rather doubt that, Miguel," Rafael retorted. Leisurely he sauntered around to stand in front of Beth, and, his eyes hard and cold on her face, he said sardonically, "I would 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 extremely—er—happy. Introduce us, please."
A giddying sense ofdeja 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 small chin lifted defiantly as she stared coolly back. Her voice determinedly composed and devoid of all expression except politeness, 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 quite reach his eyes. Bending over her hand, he deliberately pressed an in-
timate kiss to the inside of her wrist, the heat of his mouth shocking her. "Now, did you, senora?" he murmured softly. His eyes glinting with mockery, he finished with, "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 fear 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.
Dr>'ly Rafael said, "You carried that off superbly, English. I see that with all your other talents you are also a somewhat 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 flashing with anger, she spat in an undertone, "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 into the chair next to hers, he said amusedly, "Titillating is the mildest word I can think of to describe their emotions!"
Her voice tight with suppressed feeling Beth snapped, "You find this all very entertaining, don't you?"
His eyes traveling almost 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 reach across and 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, it being so very obvious in the rigid curve of her soft mouth and the belligerent set of her small rounded chin. Fortunately no one seemed to be paying them any heed, and, aware of the dire need not to have anyone notice anything out of the ordinary, with an effort Beth made herself relax. A deceptively limpid smile on her lips, she said sweetly, "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 only sent her a lazy smile. A sudden flick of passion in his eyes that was at odds with the lightness of his tone of voice, he returned carelessly, "And I, English, happen to desire you... too much for my own liking."
Beth felt a queer jolt of excitement shoot through her at his words, and, swiftly 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—er— source of reheving yourself of this unwanted desire you claim to have."
Rafael gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Don't start that sort of argument in public," he threatened softly, "because if you do, Fll make damn sure we finish it in private!"
Beth was incensed enough to ignore his warning, but her heated reply was lost when Rafael, with a curt nod in the direction of the others, asked in an oddly 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 yet she was instantly and unhappily aware of how very true it was. Nathan was everything that Rafael was not—kind and gentle where Rafael would be fierce and hard; Rafael decisive and adamant against those who disagreed with him, Nathan more likely to give in; Nathan as blond and unassuming as Rafael was dark and aggressive; Rafael blatantly masculine against Nathan's almost effeminate posturings; Nathan weak where Rafael was strong. It horrified Beth to discover the train of her thoughts, and she was angry all over again at Rafael for opening her mind to such disloyal musings. Rafael might be a strong, devastatingly masculine man, but who cared? Nathan was good to her, and now she was guilty of betraying him in mind, as well as her body. That very same 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. Pick-
ing her words with care she said with surprising mildness, '*He is not simpering. But 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 immediately softened or of the warmth in the enchanting smile that she sent back to her husband, she added quietly, "A gentle, dear dandy at that."
There was an explosive expletive from Rafael; his sudden violent surge to his feet caused Beth to stare at him in bewilderment. "Is something wrong?" she asked innocently. ^
His heavy black eyebrows meeting in a scowling frown above the arrogantly jutting nose, Rafael snarled acidly, "No! Why should there be?"
Not waiting for her answer, his hand closed around her slender wrist and, almost jerking her upright, he snapped, "Walk over there 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 a little away from him before Nathan strolled up to them. A polite smile on his mouth, Nathan said, "You must be Rafael, Don Miguel's son. We have not met, but I am Madame Ridgeway's husband, Nathan."
The three of them presented a striking tableau— Beth, a bright slender figure with her shining 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 almost possessively 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. Sefior Santana had just said that he wanted to meet you."
It was lame, but Nathan seemed to sense nothing out of the ordinary. "Oh," he said, looking at Rafael. "Was there some particular reason?"
Louisiana 08 - While Passion Sleeps Page 25