Louisiana 08 - While Passion Sleeps

by Shirlee Busbee

  Other communities suffering the same losses and bloody attacks formed their own companies of Minute Men, but there was no stopping or halting the Comanche war. It had become the nightmare Rafael had predicted.

  The Minute Men, though seeing service almost daily, were of little use against the Comanches. They dared not follow the Indians too far into Comancheria, and as they were never called into service until after an attack, more often than not the most they accomplished was

  the burial of the dead left in the wake of the Comanche depredations.

  The Republic's regular army was almost useless when fighting Indians. Against other infantry the army was awesome, and when ensconced behind stone walls the soldiers were very nearly unbeatable, but against the highly mobile and widely ranging Comanches they were as ineffectual as had been the Spanish troops before them. Wisely, the Comanches refused to battle with the grouped infantry, and it was impossible for the foot soldiers to follow and attack the well-mounted enemy. Nothing seemed to stop the relentless, deadly raids.

  Only Jack Hays's rangers, riding and tracking like the Indians themselves, were able to strike back but they were too small a force against the concentrated efforts of the Pehnahterkuh. The Comanches mauled the frontier until it was a blackened, bleeding mass of destroyed homes, hopes, and lives.

  Some of this Beth learned in the days that had followed her recovery, but in most cases people did not talk 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. Worse, 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. Goddamn those stupid, sanctimonious bastards who had thought to hold the Comanche chiefs captive!

  The raids and rumors were what finally dissipated the little 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 at all liking the idea of leaving Beth in a house with no male protector, finally 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.

  Consequently, in a bewilderingly short space of time the house was deserted except for Beth, Senora Lopez, and the various servants. Manuela had stayed behind at Dona Madelina's suggestion and Beth found herself growing more and more at ease with her. Manuela had her own reasons for being more than willing to remain behind in San Antonio—she found the Senora Ridge-way a most 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.

  Unfortunately there was one who did not think so, and even more unfortunately, in his enthusiasm for the match Don Miguel had made two rather disastrous miscalculations. The first was his letter to his father, written almost immediately following Nathan's death, in which he expressed his hopes of the marriage, and the second his indiscreet sharing of the scheme with Lorenzo Mendoza.

  How Lorenzo managed to hide his fury from Don Miguel when he heard of the plans spinning so merrily

  in the older man's head he never knew. But, his heart full of hatred and bitterness, he had forced himself to smile and nod as if the news gave him great pleasure. More than anyone involved 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, and 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 positioi^ 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. But 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, almost embarrassing deference and interest displayed by the servants. She had been depressed when Don Miguel and Dona Madelina had left, for she had grown extremely fond of them both, and if they seemed to treat this parting as only temporary, she knew in her heart that just 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 unbearably 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 had 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 now in these dangerous, uncertain times. Thinking of the horrors of

  the Comanche attacks along the frontier, he wished violently 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 who never seemed to leave his mind for a moment. At Enchantress she had been everywhere he looked, his imagination seeing her walking gracefully under the towering, pungent-scented pines, or stepping lightly down the wide, curving staircase in the house, 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 small, 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 he 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 for that matter, was going to keep them apart! But 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, divided between fury and ruefulness, for try as he might he had never been q
uite able to forget her. Sometimes months had passed without her image invading his mind, and then something, a fair head, a small, neatly turned figure, or the curve of a pale cheek, would remind him, and then he would remember her and curse his own foolishness for remembering.

  She had betrayed her husband, and there was little 385

  doubt in his mind 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. Til keep her so damned busy that she won't have time for even a thought of anyone else—and if I ever find her with another man...!

  It suddenly occurred to him that half of his rage, that day he had found her and Lorenzo in bed together, had not been just to discover 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 to himself as he realized how ridiculous his thoughts were. ^

  But she wasn't going to have the chance to put a pair of horns on him, he decided firmly. He'd exhaust that slender, bewitching body with his lovemaking and keep her filled with child in the bargain. The idea of Beth swollen with his child was a new, unexpected thought, a startling thought, and with it came a rush of such fierce tenderness and possession that Rafael's entire body seemed to suddenly go weak from it. 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! And because he found himself even considering it, he grew furious not only with himself but with Beth as well. 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. His lips thinned as he admitted it, and the gray eyes grew strangely bleak and full of rage at the same time.

  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. And yet he fought against it as a man would against a deadly, emasculating fate, determined not to fall into the pit of pain and disillusionment that Beth represented. She's a little whore,

  he muttered furiously under his breath, reminding himself over and over again of her sins. But it did little good. He couldn't control the anguished longing, the hungry yearning to hold her once more in his arms, to taste the honey of her mouth and to see those lovely features animated and smiling at him.

  His emotions shredded raw by the violent battle that raged so frenziedly within him, Rafael reached San Antonio by mid-May, in a black uncertain temper. His mood wavered between the sweet anticipation of seeing Beth again and an almost savage antagonism that simmered just under the surface of his apparent coolness. 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 of the fact that Sefiora 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 had narrowed and his mouth had curved unpleasantly when Santiago, his personal servant in San Antonio, mentioned that Sefior Mendoza had been a frequent visitor during the time he had been gone. Very earnestly Santiago had finished, "And when Don Miguel left, he was most grateful for Senor Men-doza's offer to see after the ladies until you returned." Rafael said something ugly under his breath and ordered a bath and a change of clothes.

  It turned out that the visit to the Mavericks was rather protracted, for Rafael had time not only to bathe but to dress as well, in a pair of tight-fitting black calzoneras trimmed with silver lace and silver buttons, and a fine, white silky shirt with long, full sleeves that billowed gracefully near his lean wrists where the soft material was sev/n 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 so magnificently vital and dynamically handsome that the very air around him

  seemed suddenly to crackle with the force of his powerful presence.

  Beth and Sefiora Lopez still had not returned when he descended the stairs in long, swift strides. 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 Sefiora Lopez arrived back at the house.

  Rafael was lounging in the front salon when he first heard their voices out in the imain hall. He had been drinking, not heavily but steadily, and he had been thinking—not very nice thoughts either. The news that just as soon as his back was turned Lorenzo and Beth seemed to seek each other out left him with a decidedly nasty taste in his mouth, and the half-formed dreams that had hovered so tantalizingly on his horizon these past weeks seemed to have evaporated and turned into something ugly and tawdry. I am, he thought viciously, a fool! To think that I nearly let that lovely face blind me. And unfortunately, only adding to the rage that was now seething through his body, 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 also greatly miscalculated RafaeFs return to San Antonio. When he heard of the plans concerning Enchantress from Don Miguel, he had dismissed it as merely dust thrown in the eyes of everyone just to hide Rafael's true destination—the high plains and a meeting with the Co-manches to attempt to dissuade them from joining with the Mexicans. And 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 a somewhat unpleasant shock.

  Lorenzo and the two ladies had entered the salon, unaware of Rafael's return, and Sefiora Lopez was politely pressing Lorenzo to remain for some light refresh-

  ment when Rafael slowly and 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 own 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 rather hasty retreat, which he promptly did, disappearing so quickly and abruptly that Senora Lopez stared after him in some surprise and disapproval at his lack of manners. For Beth it wasn't as easy, the unexpected sight of Rafael causing her heart to behave in a most incomprehensible fashion, as it seemed first to plunge to her toes and then leap to her throat. There was a wild, giddy feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she knew an almost uncontrollable urge to fling herself into his arms and press her lips fervently against his. For one tiny 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, as she remembered that last disgraceful night they had spent together as well as the deliberate 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 sort of hidden, hungry assessment of her slender body. She was, as usual, dressed in black, a high-necked gown with tight-fitting long sleeves made of taffeta and trimmed with a black niching of lace at the throat, wrists and down the front to her waist. Her fair hair was braided and arranged in a coronet, much as she had worn it the day Nathan had been wounded, and there was a faint charming flush to her cheeks. To Rafael, the violet eyes, which met his so icily across the space that
divided them, seemed like two bright amethyst jewels between the gold-tipped lashes. She was, he discovered warily and with a little puzzlement, angry—and the anger seemed to be directed at him! kow, why? he wondered with a sudden frown. Surely, I am the one ta be angry, you wanton, lovely, little slut!

  Beth was angry. The first foohsh rush of emotion at seeing him again had been conquered, and she was left with only the hurt and fury that had been her constant 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 equally by the memory of Rafael's lovemaking in that very bed and the pain and anguish Sebastian's words had given her. She had known that Rafael did not hold her in high esteem—his every act was evidence of that! But she found it a bitter draught to swallow that he had deliberately vilified her to Sebastian. And to how many more, she wondered dismally. 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 body, 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 coldly smiling face.

  They greeted one another with frigid politeness, Se-nora Lopez thinking with disappointment that, perchance, everyone had misjudged the affair, but then she caught a brief flicker of something in Rafael's eyes that made her smile. So, he isn't indifferent, she thought happily to herself.