In a voice filled with hostility and belligerence, Maverick replied hotly, "And we Texans do not intend to pay them one piece of tribute! We will not ransom people who should not have been taken captive in the first place."
Rafael smoked his cheroot in silence for a long moment. Flatly he said, "Then, amigOy you may very well have trouble!"
PART THREE
THE FATEFUL SEASON
Spring 1840
Defer not till tomorrow to be wise. Tomorrow's sun to thee may never rise.
— William Congreve ''Letter to Cobham''
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Thursday, the 19th of March, 1840, dawned bright and clear, the sky an endless azure lake, the sun a golden ball of fire in its center. Beth woke early feeling thankful that she had managed to get through the previous evening without putting her foot wrong. The arrival of Sam and Mary Maverick had helped enormously, and by the time they had finally departed for their home, the hour was late and Beth could safely bid Nathan good night, certain he would be seeking his own bed almost immediately and that he would have no private conversation with their host. As for Rafael, she didn't waste time speculating on his movements, and all she knew or cared, she told herself firmly, was that he hadn't sought her out in the intimacy of her bedroom.
Charity entered just then, bringing in a large silver tray laden with a coffeepot, a fine china cup, a small pitcher of cream, and a dish which contained a Mexican sweet bread known as pan dulce. Leaning comfortably back against lace-trimmed pillows, Beth enjoyed the rich, dark coffee; nibbling thoughtfully on the pan dulce, she considered the plans for the day ahead.
Nathan's arrangement to accompany Rafael to the meeting with the Comanches was not to her liking, and it made her decidedly uneasy every time she thought of it. But then, any instance that left her husband alone with Rafael made her uneasy!
At least they would be in the middle of a crowd, she reminded herself stoutly, and it was highly unlikely that the type of conversation she feared might spring up between them would take place under those circumstances. If only she knew what Rafael was thinking, or
what he intended to do. He hadn't betrayed her... yet. Perhaps, Uke a cat with a mouse, he was merely torturing her? A feeling of helpless anger swept over her, and, disliking herself and Rafael very much at the moment, she threw back the covers with more violence than was necessary and slid out of bed.
Fortunately she would be busy helping Mary and the other women, and that, she decided firmly, should keep her mind off Nathan and Rafael! They should all manage to get through another day without any treacherous pitfalls suddenly opening up. Fervently she prayed it would be so. Her face brightened as it occurred to her that if the Comanches took up most of this day, there would be just one more dangerous day before they could politely bid their host ^'Vaya con Dios" and begin the journey home. Just forty-eight hours, she thought with joy, completely numbing her mind to the anguish she would feel when she faced Rafael for the last time.
Not quite certain what would be expected of her when she met Mary and the other women, she selected a practical gown of pink gingham and had Charity arrange her hair into a neat cornet of silvery braids on top of her head. Thinking she appeared rather matronly, Beth was completely oblivious of the way the crown of silken braids gave her a regal air, revealing the lovely fragile bones of her face; the simple gown accented her graceful slender body rather than minimizing its attractiveness.
Rafael, watching her through narrowed eyes as she descended the staircase, decided he had never seen her look lovelier and he was bitterly aware that his heart had tightened painfully at the sight of her. It made him angry, as did any emotion that he couldn't control, and his unwelcome obsession for Beth Ridgeway definitely was against his will.
Unlike Beth, who, despite her understandable anxieties, had slept soundly, Rafael had not. He had lain awake, tossing and turning, determined to think only of the meeting tomorrow with the Comanches and yet finding that his very thoughts betrayed him as they strayed inexorably down the hall to where Beth was sleeping. He could picture her vividly in the rosewood
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bed, her glorious bright hair spread out across the pillows and her slim alabaster body curved gently in sleep. With an angry groan he admitted to himself that it would take very little persuasion for him to join her— her husband be damned! Cursing himself as well as Beth, he had given up all pretense of sleep and had spent the remainder of the night hours pacing like a caged black panther in the confines of his room, despising and wanting Beth at the same time.
No woman had ever come between him and his emotions before, but now it seemed, no matter how hard he tried to banish her from his thoughts, no matter how determinedly he concentrated on the importance of the meeting in the morning, no matter how grimly he considered the consequences of any overt act by the Texans against the Comanches, Beth's violet eyes and provocative mouth crept into his midnight musings, driving him half mad with longing. By the time the sun rose he was filled with icy rage that a woman could so insidiously invade his mind to the point where coherent thought vanished.
Beth wasn't aware of his presence at the bottom of the stairs until she was more than halfway down the wide steps. Suddenly catching sight of his tall, dark figure in the center of the spacious hallway, her step faltered and she came to an abrupt halt, wishing vehemently that her heart hadn't instantly plunged to her feet when her eyes met his. She hesitated a moment, gathering her erratic emotions, and then forced herself to smile and say politely, "Good morning, Senor San-tana."
Rafael regarded her in silence. A crooked smile curved his full mouth as he said dryly, "I hardly think such formality is necessary, English—you know my given name and I would suggest that you use it!"
Beth stiffened with quick anger and came down the remainder of the steps with a rush. A decidedly militant sparkle in the violet eyes, she snapped, "I wish to Heaven that your name was the only thing I knew about you!"
The crooked smile left his face instantly, and bleakly he surveyed her flushed, lovely features, wanting with an intensity that was a physical pain to sweep her into
his arms and kiss her so fiercely, so passionately that she would be aware of nothing but the hot, dark hunger that raged within him. He didn't, though, as much because he needed to prove to himself that he did have control over his emotions where she was concerned as the disagreeable awareness that this was neither the place nor the time to precipitate such a scene. Instead, seeking to treat her in the same manner she had him, he replied insultingly, "You no more than I, dear lady!''
Anger making her reckless, she retorted heatedly, "Fine! I think we understand each other...and I can see no reason to continue this distasteful conversation. Anything I have to say to you cas be said in the company of others!"
An unpleasant smile lifting up one corner of his mouth, Rafael taunted, "Even your husband?"
Outraged that he would stoop so low, heedless of their surroundings, she spat, "You dare! You would deliberately wound a man for no other reason than to gain spiteful revenge?" Scornfully she added, "But what else could I expect from a creature like you!"
Strangely enough her words did not enrage him as might have been anticipated, although a muscle bunched in his cheek and the gray eyes grew hard as flint. Tightly he said, "I am not in the habit of telling tales—especially not sordid tales to another man about his wife's dalliances!" His hard gaze flicking contemptuously over her slender body, he drawled, "Your husband speaks highly of you, obviously he thinks you are without a blemish. And if everything he told me the other night is true, it would appear he had much to be proud of— a wife with all the virtues a man could desire." His voice taking on the crack of a whiplash, he snarled, "All the virtues except one—fidelity!"
Before she had time to think, before there was time to consider the repercussion of her actions, Beth struck him across the face, her open palm connecting very gratifyingly with his lean cheek. The sound o
f the blow seemed to echo in the hallway, and, appalled at her impulsive action, with horror Beth stared at the print of her small hand against his dark face. The sudden
anger draining out of her and shaken by her own lack of control, she took an instinctive step backward.
His mouth a thin, white, angry line, Rafael said coolly, too coolly, "You are wise to move away from me, English. At the moment I could wring your neck!"
Risking a glance at his dark, furious face, Beth rather thought he might indeed wring her neck, but she wasn't about to retreat. He had insulted her grievously and he amply deserved precisely what she had given him! Her stance unusually belligerent, she glowered up at him as if daring him to carry out his threat.
Any other woman would have been reeling from the force of his retaliatory slap, but with Beth, all his normal reactions seemed to have been weakened. He found himself thinking that perhaps there was some justification for her action—after all, no one appreciates hearing certain home truths. Besides, hurting Beth was the farthest thought from his mind—he desperately wanted her warm and eager in his arms, instead of facing him like a wide-eyed, spitting, golden kitten. With an oddly vulnerable movement he rubbed one hand almost tiredly against the back of his neck and surprised her by saying, "I won't apologize, but I will admit that I shouldn't have said what I did. As for telling your husband"—his eyes met hers and Beth felt her throat go tight—"as for your husband," he repeated somberly, "rest easy on that count—I don't think what transpired between us was particularly admirable any way you view it. Shall we leave it in the past and start over again?" .
Feeling the prick of tears behind her lids, she nodded, knowing that no matter how wrong it had been she would never forget those forbidden moments. In a small voice she said, "There isn't any reason to start over again—Nathan and I will be leaving for Natchez just as soon as possible. Perhaps even tomorrow."
Something that could have been pain crossed his face, but it was gone so swiftly Beth couldn't be sure. There was no hint of it in his voice though when he said gently, "Well, at least there need not be any animosity between us before you leave."
Beth gave him a tiny, wavering smile, wishing sadly . 287
it was that simple, wishing with increasing despair that his dark compelUng attraction didn't tug against her heartstrings every time she saw him. Her voice not quite steady, she murmured, "We seemed to have said everything there is to say." And, holding back the scalding tears that she knew were going to spill down her cheeks any second, she frantically sought to end the conversation as quickly as possible. Not looking at him and agitatedly smoothing her pink gingham gown, she stuttered, "Y-y-you m-m-must excuse me, I-I must finish getting ready to join M-M-Mary and the others."
She turned blindly away, not even certain where she was going, but Rafael's hand (^ her upper arm stopped her. ^
"It isn't necessary for you to help," he said slowly, a frown creasing his forehead. "As a matter of fact, I—" He broke off as one of the servants walked into the hall, and as if suddenly realizing where they were, he muttered something violent under his breath and almost dragged Beth into a nearby room, shutting the door firmly behind him.
It had not been to seek some intimate tete-a-tete with Beth that had prompted Rafael to bring her into the small library where they now stood, but to escape the interruptions that were sure to occur if they continued talking in the middle of the central hallway. And yet the instant he shut the door behind him, a new and disturbing atmosphere instantly enveloped both of them.
Staring mutely up into his bronzed powerful face, the high cheekbones and the smoky gray eyes beneath the winged black brows, Beth felt her heart contract as she realized how incredibly dear those features had become to her—how they would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life! This is how I will always remember him, she thought with anguish, her eyes hungrily noting the way the crisp blue-black hair brushed his temples, the way his long lashes hid the expression in the gray eyes, and the way his mouth curved when he smiled as he did now.
The smile was strained, only she didn't know that, she was too busy shoring up memories to last her a lifetime. Beth knew she would always picture him as
he was now. He was dressed in Spanish attire—and as usual the colors of his clothes were black except for the white of his shirt and the crimson bandana knotted carelessly about the strong, brown throat... Suddenly she had an insane desire to press her lips against that warm brown throat where it joined his shoulder.
Frightened at her wild response to his nearness, she presented her charming back to him and said in a low voice, "Wh-what were you saying?"
Rafael was not immune to Beth's presence any more than she was to his, and his smile, which was meant to be only polite, had slipped just a little. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to take her into his arms and kiss her half senseless, and he was almost grateful that she had turned away from him. If he had continued to stare down into that lovely, enchanting face he wouldn't have been responsible for his actions. Recovering himself somewhat, he said lightly, "It wasn't anything important, merely that I would appreciate it if you didn't help Mary with the returned prisoners."
Her eyes wide and questioning, Beth swung around to face him. ''Why?" she asked simply.
He stared at her fragile blond loveliness for a moment, and, thinking of the refined, safe^ ordered life she lived in Natchez, he said bluntly, "Because I don't think you're strong enough! Mary will have enough on her hands without the possibility of you fainting at her feet."
Hurt and angry that he thought her so weak and useless, Beth drew in a gasp of outrage. "Well! Thank you very much, Senor Santana! But let me assure you, I am much stronger than I appear, and I wouldn't be so stupid as to faint at a critical point!"
Crossing the room to where she stood with quick impatient strides and grasping her shoulders in both of his hands, he shook her gently, saying exasperatedly, "Calm down, you little spitfire! I didn't mean that you aren't perfectly capable under circumstances that you are familiar with! But seeing someone who has been tortured and brutalized by the Comanches is not a pleasant sight—especially to someone like you!"
If he meant to pacify her he was failing dismally. 289
Her jaw set tightly, Beth gritted, "And what exactly do you mean by that?"
Rafael let out an irritated sigh. "English, I was raised as a Comanche and I know what they do to prisoners. I don't want you upset and revolted by the things you may see. It's that simple. Mary Maverick and the other women are better prepared than you—and some of them probably won't hold up too well either. Mary will understand when I tell her you won't be coming. If it will make you feel better, I'll send a couple of my own servants along to help."
It was unfortunate that Rafael was being so tactless, and if he hadn't just spent a sl^pless night pacing the floor thinking of Beth and if he weren't so conscious of her slender body barely touching his, he might have chosen his words more carefully and Beth might have taken his advice. But he was being too arrogantly decisive for her to meekly accept his dictates, and, feeling that she had to prove something to him as well as herself, she said stubbornly, "I told Mary I would help and I intend to do so."
"You obstinate little fool!" he burst out angrily. "Damn it, I don't want you there! There could be trouble and I want to know that you're safe."
Her eyes suddenly anxious she whispered, "Nathan? He won't be in any danger?"
It was the spark that lit all of Rafael's smoldering frustrations and thoughtlessly he snarled, "Blast Nathan! He could be skewered by a Comanche lance for all I care!"
Her own temper rising mercurially, Beth twisted furiously in his hold. "Oh! How dare you say such a thing! He is good and kind, and and—" But the heated words she would have flung at him died in her throat at the tormented expression on his face.
There was sudden silence in the room as they gazed at one another, the violet eyes mesmerized by the blazing emotion that flickered briefly in the
gray ones. It was a waiting silence which lasted for only a moment before Rafael muttered tautly, ''jPor Dios! Why must you always fight me?" And then, unable to deny himself
any longer, his hard mouth swooped down hungrily on hers, his hands jerking her slender form against his.
It was a strangely bittersweet kiss between them, Rafael's mouth taking her lips with a tender urgency that was Beth's undoing. If his kiss had been brutal she might have found the will to resist him, but it wasn't. It was warm and compelling, irresistibly coaxing an instinctive response from her. Instead of fighting him, as she knew she should, instead of trying to escape, she clung to him ardently, her senses spinning and swirling wildly out of control. Helplessly her lips parted and his kiss deepened, one large hand coming up to cradle her head, keeping her a willing, eager captive as his mouth sweetly ravaged hers. Heedless of anything but the tall, muscled body pressed so passionately against hers, Beth reached up to tangle her fingers in his dark hair, and her body arched against his, her breasts aching to feel his touch, her body filled with a hungry longing to have him take her again. His lips trailed a fiery path down her throat and she gave a little moan of excitement when one of his hands cupped her buttocks and crushed her even closer to the rigid, throbbing length of him. Dizzy with desire, Beth would have denied him nothing if the sudden thought of her marriage and Nathan hadn't exploded in her brain. With a small ashamed sob she tore herself out of Rafael's arms and stepped away from him, one arm outstretched as if to ward him off.
They were both breathing heavily, Rafael's arousal very evident in the figure-hugging calzoneras, his hair slightly tousled from Beth's caressing fingers. In a tautly controlled voice he asked, "Would you mind telling me what the hell happened?"
The violet eyes met his steadily, despite her inner turmoil, and Beth said dully, "I think you know very well what happened. I remembered, if you did not, that I have a husband. A husband who loves me very much."
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