Louisiana 08 - While Passion Sleeps

by Shirlee Busbee

  The sudden snort of one of the horses, not too far from where they stood, brought Rafael instantly back to reality. Breathing heavily, iiis body tight and pulsating with the burning passion to know again the exquisite 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 sort of 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 the pit of her stomach very real, the throb of her swollen nipples almost painful.

  After a tense moment 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, Fm 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 his nearness as well as the easy way that he could dismiss what had just happened, Beth stiffened in his arms. Through clenched teeth she got out, ''Will you please let me go, then?"

  Rafael cursed under his breath, realizing how clumsy his words had been. Gripping her shoulders between his strong hands, he muttered, "I didn't mean that as lightly as it sounded." He slanted her a wry grin and

  murmured, "When I am with you I seem able only to 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, and longing for an argument, Beth challenged, "Then why didn't you?"

  But Rafael was not to be drawn. He pulled her closer to him, and, his breath warm against her cheek, he said softly, "You know as well as I do why I didn't." And, 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 feeling weak and yearning for more.

  Rafael, too, seemed oddly reluctant to end their intimacy, his arms holding her firmly to him, and his lips gently caressing her jawline. He was in such a strange mood that Beth found herself responding to his warm embrace as she never had before. There was almost a teasing quality about him, none of his usual coldness. It must be the whiskey, Beth thought half hysterically. There could be no other reason.

  But Beth was only partially right. It was true that the whiskey had temporarily vanquished his fury and anger, but it was her allure that drew him, and he was unable, tonight, to fight against her or the unacknowledged longing of his own heart. Pleasantly tired himself 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 icily 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 a fine wine and he found himself saying things he never would have. His lips nuzzling her ear, he suddenly asked huskily, "Did you know that I went to Natchez to find you?"

  His mouth twisted and he added harshly, "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 raised his head and glanced down at her, obviously puzzled. "What do you mean?"

  Not meeting his gaze, she admitted, "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 sardonically, "And you just assumed it was me? It could have been Lorenzo, you know."

  "Lorenzo is not tall!" she flij^shed, then bit her lip in vexation, for that had not been what she had meant to say at all. Recovering herself somewhat, she said coldly, "Lorenzo would not come looking for me! There is nothing between us, despite what you choose to believe."

  Rafael shrugged noncommittally and replied flatly, "I don't wish to discuss Lorenzo." His eyes wandering over her moon-washed features, he added lightly, "I would much rather discuss us."

  "There is no us!" Beth returned stoutly, knowing she wasn't telling the exact truth.

  "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," he drawled, the gray eyes suddenly hard and intent.

  Incensed and frightened that he might just be right, Beth struggled free of his grasp and, facing him with a heaving bosom, she spat, "I don't belong to anyone! Not you, not Nathan, not anyone!"

  Rafael only grinned infuriatingly and murmured, "Time will tell, won't it?"

  Smothering an angry retort, she shot him a furious glance and then, disdaining further arguments, she turned on her heels and marched smartly 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. And while Abe Hawkins had lived all of his adult life in Texas,

  when he had finally 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 instantly 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 surprisingly sumptuously furnished; fine Brussels carpets flowed tastefully throughout the rooms, crimson worsted curtains adorned the windows, and the furniture was all upholstered in rich fabrics. It was all obviously well cared for, the mahogany and walnut tables polished and gleaming; 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 what appeared to be effusive affection and seemed to fall over themselves to carry out his casual commands. Beth was left with the distinct feeling that they held him in very high esteem.

  Beth's room overlooked the rambling blue creek. Its 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 covered in a tapestry print fabric and two Queen Anne chairs were set at one end near a pair of doors that opened onto a small balcony. A bed of delicately carved rosewood was placed at the opposite end of the room with a small lamp table next to it. There was a massive mahogany wardrobe against one wall, 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 for a brief moment that she was in Rafael Santana's house and that she still had to get through several more difficult and dan-

  gerous days. Her pleasure evaporated, though, 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, and it was decidedly odd for a host 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. As a matter of fact he looked slightly 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^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!"

  "Well, 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 said with a forced carelessness, "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 outward harmony they descended the broad sweeping staircase. But the niggling concern over the separate rooms would not leave Beth, and she caught her breath in sudden anger and dismay when the thought occurred to her that Rafael meant to take base advantage of the situation.

  In that presumption Beth did Rafael an injustice. It was true that he was perfectly capable of coolly seducing another man's wife, but some sort of 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 magnetic presence at the head of the long table, and Rafael was too conscious of the sweetly desirable picture Beth made in a lavender silk to do more than abstractedly reply to Nathan's light prattle. Nathan, completely oblivious of the tingling, vibrating air of tautness between the other two people at the table, was busy relaxing and enjoying his comfortable surroundings. The fact that Beth was politely aloof from her host had not escaped him, but instead of being suspicious, he felt it only 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.

  Realizing that it wasn't very gracious of him to harbor such unkind thoughts of the man who had opened his home to them, Nathan was at his most charming, and the meal progressed without incident. But by the time they had finished, Nathan was heartily bored and finding it rather rough going.

  As soon as he and Rafael had exhausted the subject of wearing apparel, something they did very rapidly, as Rafael's apparent incipient dandyism had been entirely feigned the night they met, there was little common ground. Nathan had absolutely no interest in the more serious topics that interested Rafael and even less in the myriad problems that beset the Republic; Rafael, while possessing more than his share of sophistication and easy address, cared little for the frivolous pursuits that appealed to Nathan. Besides, he plain disliked the man, viewing Nathan's dainty posturings with growing distaste. Consequently by the end of the meal conversation had languished and Nathan, facing a dull evening with someone he was quickly deciding was a bore, was searching for some way to amuse himself.

  If there had been only Beth and himself he would have bidden her a fond good night assuming she would

  find some womanly way of passing her time 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. But while he had so unwisely discounted Rafael's charms on the opposite sex, he was reluctant to leave Beth alone in Santana's house. He certainly didn't fear that Rafael would be guilty of some 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. At any rate, after mulling over possible entertainments for the evening ahead, he finally hit upon the pleasant notion of atj;empting to renew 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 immediately 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 sheer relief—she would enjoy meeting the Mavericks again and their company would help dispel the dangerous intimacy. But curiosity made her ask Rafael, "Do you know them?"

  Rafael's mouth curved in a sardonic smile. "Yes, I count Sam and Mary among my few friends in San Antonio. The fact 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."

  Feeling as if she had somehow been guilty of a grave social solecism, Beth looked quickly away from the cynical gleam in his eyes and said in a small voice, "Oh."

  This was the first time that Nathan had ever heard of the part-Comanche grandmother and he decided instantly that it was the Indian blood that accounted for his growing uneasiness around their host. A slight frown marring his forehead, he nervously twisted his wine glass. Knew there was something odd about the fellow the moment I laid eyes on him, he told himself, and regretfully he came to the conclusion that they would have to leave the luxuries offered them at the earliest

  possible moment. Can't have Beth exposed to a damned Comanche — why there's no telling what he might take into his head to do!

  Fortunately Rafael's servant found the Mavericks at home and they were delighted to accept his impromptu invitation. An hour later they were seated on the patio enjoying the midnight air.

  The conversation flowed smoothly right from the beginning, the Mavericks expressing their pleasure at seeing the Ridgeways again and also their regret that they were not continuing their journey on to Santa Fe.

  "Stella will be so disappointed!" Mary had cried when it was explained how they came to be in San Antonio again, and Beth had felt a perfect fool.

  Rafael let Beth flounder for a few minutes with lame excuses and then, almost as if taking pity on her, he had introduced a new topic of conversation. Putting down his snifter of brandy that he had chosen instead of the milky coffee that the ladies and Nathan were drinking, he looked at Sam Maverick and asked, "Is the meeting with the Pehnahterkuh chiefs still set for tomorrow?"

  Sam nodded quickly and, his dark eyes full of speculation, he inquired, "Is that why you're here? To attend the meeting?"

  Rafael lit a thin black cheroot and glanced at Beth a brief moment before admitting, "Yes. I met with Houston some days ago and he thought it would be a good idea if I were here. He wants me to 'observe' the meeting."

  Beth felt her face grow hot with embarrassment and she was suddenly glad of the encroaching darkness. What a silly fool I was to think he came to San Antonio because of me! she thought with humiliation. And she was torn between chagrin and relief, one part of her overjoyed that Rafael's trip had nothing to do with her and another part of her...

  Rafael and Sam Maverick talked of the Comanches for a while, the two ladies and Nathan listening with undisguised interest. There was a break in the conversation for a moment and Nathan, determined to see one of these dreaded raiders up close, asked Rafael easily,

  "Would it be at all possible for me to attend the meeting with you tomorrow? I would most like to see a Comanche before I leave Texas."

  Nathan spoke as did many a white man, as if a Comanche were some peculiar creature from another world, and Rafael was conscious of a quick sweep of rage. He might have snarled something he would have regretted, but Sam Maverick said with a laugh, "Well, if anyone can get you inside the council building tomorrow, it will be Rafael Santana—he comes with Sam Houston's approval!" Looking across at Rafael, Sam coaxed, "Why don't you take him with you? After all, it isn't every day you can see a Comanche an^ live to tell the tale. And if you're thinking that it is not a place for spectators, let me tell you that half the people there tomorrow
are going to be spectators! Why we've got judges who ha^e traveled here just to see the Comanches. Take him with you."

  Reluctantly Rafael agreed. Nathan was the last person he wanted with him tomorrow, but he saw no way to refuse.

  Mary turned to Beth and said quietly, "I am one of the women who will be taking care of the returned captives tomorrow. We don't know how many there will be or in what condition, but we could certainly use an extra pair of hands if you would be willing to help."

  "Why certainly," Beth returned warmly, pleased that Mary felt that she could be of some use.

  There was some more discussion of when and where they would meet. After taking a swallow of his own brandy, Maverick asked Rafael, "Do you think that there'll be any trouble? I know that Colonel Fisher is here with three companies of troops."

  Rafael shrugged. "It depends on the terms that are offered and how those terms are presented. You have to remember that the Comanches are a proud people— they held this land, first against the might of Spain and then the Mexicans, and they are used to being treated, if not with awe, with at least something closely resembling it."

  Sam's face darkened. "Rafael, if you think that we are going to bend our necks to a bunch of dirty, thiev-

  ing—" He broke off suddenly, remembering that some of that "dirty, thieving" blood ran in Rafael's veins, but as Rafael said nothing, merely regarded the tip of his cheroot, Sam said in a calmer tone of voice, "Colonel Fisher has made it plain and he has reemphasized Colonel Karnes' earlier requirement—there will be no treaty unless every Texan captive is released to us tomorrow."

  Rafael took a deep breath, his face expressionless in the faint light from the lanterns that hung nearby. Slowly he said, "Then in that case, you may have trouble, because I don't think they're going to bring in every captive. One, two, maybe is all I think you'll see at a time. You'll get them all eventually, but not all at once. Knowing Comanches, I can tell you that they intend most likely to bargain for every woman and child individually, and they will expect to be paid dearly for them."