Louisiana 08 - While Passion Sleeps

by Shirlee Busbee

  Desperately taking another tack, she pleaded earnestly, "All right, forget that part of the story for now and tell me instead what you thought when you saw me that first time at the Costa soiree. Did I look like the kind of woman to betray her husband? When we danced, what did you think?"

  As if the words were torn from him, he muttered, "I thought you were the loveliest creature I had ever seen— and you damn well know it! Why else did I follow you to the cloakroom, and why else did I try to get you to meet me somewhere private?" His eyes darkening like thunderclouds, he snarled, "But you had other plans, querida, didn't you? Plans that included an assignation, to be sure, but with Lorenzo!"

  Anger suddenly rising like a flame through her body, she snapped furiously, "Of course, the fact that you were married didn't make any difference, did it? I am to be condemned for supposedly breaking my marriage vows,

  I

  while fdr you it doesn't hold true? What sort of hypocrite are you, Rafael?"

  An arrested expression flickering in the gray eyes, he admitted dryly, 'The worst kind, it appears." And at Beth's look of open-mouthed astonishment, he grinned. "It's true," he said easily. 'Td already come to the conclusion that it wasn't so much the fact of your infidelity as it was the fact that you chose Lorenzo over me—I'd never liked him before, but seeing you two together made me literally hate him!"

  ''But I didnt choose Lorenzo!" Beth cried with real exasperation. "You just won't believe me, will you?" Through gritted teeth she said tightly, "Consuela drugged me! She paid Lorenzo to be there! And she made certain you knew where we were!" And, seeing the jeering disbelief creeping across his face, she said insistently, "Manuela was there. She'll tell you the truth. Go ask herr

  His mouth curved cynically. "Of course she will — she's your maid now, and I'm quite certain she would say whatever you told her to."

  Beth drew in a gasp of fury. "You think I would involve my own servant in a lie?"

  Rafael shrugged. "Why not? If you're lying yourself, making Manuela part of the lie is the most logical step."

  'IfI'm lying myself. .. !'' Beth broke off, so infuriated she couldn't even speak. The violet eyes blazing with wrath and the soft red mouth taking on a grim line, she started to twist away from him, but Rafael swiftly clamped his arms around her and held her prisoner next to him.

  "Be still!" he commanded as Beth began to thrash and fight to free herself. "I've listened to you—now you listen to me!" His eyes meeting hers steadily, he said tautly, "I only know what I saw that day—you and Lorenzo making love together. You claim Consuela drugged you and paid him to be there, and I'll concede that it could have happened that way, but I find it damned difficult to believe."

  Her body stiff and unyielding near his, she shot out, "Why? Because Consuela was such a paragon of virtue? Or because you think I am a whoring little slut?"

  Rafael bit off a curse under his breath and, throwing Beth down on the bed, he reversed their positions, his hands holding her arms prisoner one on either side of her head. "Neither!" he said sharply. "English, it is such an unlikely tale that I find it impossible to believe— especially knowing Consuela as I did. She was vicious— yes, I'll grant you that—but setting up the sort of trap you claim she did, I simply cannot accept. Consuela only did things if they benefited her, and no matter from which angle I view it I can see nothing that she could have gained from doing as you say."

  Defeatedly, Beth looked away from the gray eyes and said in a low little voice, "Nevet mind. It doesn't matter anymore." Her eyes swung batk to his and she smiled bitterly. "I am now also a liar, it seems."

  That appeared to sting him for some reason, because his face darkened and the lean jawline went taut, a muscle bunching in his cheek. Roughly he murmured, "I don't know whether you are or not, I only know that when I have you in my arms, nothing else seems to matter, not your liaison with Lorenzo, not the possibility that you lie, nothing... except this!'' And his mouth closed over hers, his lips warm and bruising as they searched hers.

  With a muffled moan of despair and pleasure Beth fought him, but it was no use—she had lost every battle between them so far, and tonight was no exception. Despite her anger and crushing disappointment at the outcome of her confession of what had really happened that day in New Orleans, despite all that had gone before, she discovered with a stunning surprise that she loved him—perhaps loved even the very traits that made it impossible for him to believe her. And loving him, even knowing he didn't believe her, she wanted him as passionately as it appeared he wanted her. The weeks he had been gone, her body had yearned for his touch, and now with him pressing intimately against her naked skin, his hands traveling over her body with sweet torment, she couldn't deny him. She was in Rafael's arms and his hands and mouth were envoking a response she couldn't control any longer. Almost with a will of their own, her arms slipped around his strong

  neck, one small hand caressing and cradling his dark head as it moved over her body, his mouth like a burning brand of desire wherever it touched. A bittersweet craving for his body curled languidly through her until Rafael's half-savage, half-tender lovemaking ignited a blazing need that matched his own.

  He gave her no chance to think, no chance to escape him, his mouth taking hers and forcing an instinctive response from deep within her—she loved him and she could no more deny him or the wants of her own body than she could stop breathing. Having lost the battle with herself, she was generous in defeat, her mouth, her body, her arms, every fiber of her being reacting eagerly and excitingly to the sensuous assault Rafael made upon her.

  At Beth's capitulation, what little control he had over himself vanished, and with a low sigh of unabashed pleasure Rafael slid between her thighs and lost himself in the enveloping, welcoming satin warmth. Passionately his mouth searched hers as slowly his body moved on hers, his hands cupping her buttocks, pulling her even closer to him if that were possible.

  Nearly delirious with desire, Beth ardently accepted the warm invasion of RafaeFs body, her own reveling in the feeling of him buried deep within her. And when he began to move gently against her, his tormentingly slow and tantalizing languid thrusts in direct contrast to the molten passion that she knew intuitively was scalding through his veins, she arched eagerly to meet the rise and fall of his hips, wanting the overwhelming release that only he could give her.

  Trembling with the force of the tangled emotions that coursed through his body, Rafael could hardly bear the exciting torture of Beth's movements beneath him. Feeling his hot seed rising within him, urgently he increased the tempo of their bodies. The parting and meeting of their flesh became almost frenzied as they both sought to prolong the sweetness of their joining, yet each wanted the shattering pleasure that heralded complete fulfillment. Desperately Rafael fought down the almost overpowering urge to release himself within the velvet softness of her, holding himself back by sheer

  willpower until he knew that she too would be satisfied. Feeling the throbbing jump her body gave a second later and hearing the soft moan of pleasure she couldn't control, his own body reacted instantly, and with an animallike growl deep in his throat, he too experienced the exquisite, exploding pleasure that was bursting through her body.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The room was silent except for their labored breathing, and as their bodies gradually assumed a more normal state, even that ceased to be heard. Rafael did not immediately withdraw. Instead, his body still pressing against hers, he propped himself up on one elbow and, with something that could have been tenderness, he stared down at Beth's flushed features.

  Embarrassed, even now, even after all they had shared together, Beth looked away from his steady gaze, wondering bleakly how she could love him and yet almost hate him at the same time. Having gotten over the first shock of acknowledging her love for him, she accepted it as she had so many things in her life. But, unlike other events, this one she treasured despite the pain she knew it would bring. For whatever reasons, no matter how m
ad and insane it might be, she loved Rafael Santana!

  I always have, she thought with a start, ever since I saw him at the Costa ball. No, that isn't true, the more practical side of her nature countered—been attracted to, dreamed about, and hungered after, but not loved... not until now.

  The touch of Rafael's fingers on her chin startled her and, wide-eyed, her gaze instantly swung back to his dark face above her. A crooked smile curved his mouth and he murmured, ''Come back. You had gone far away from me."

  Unable to help herself, she inquired with sudden bitterness, ''How can you say so, when your body holds mine prisoner?"

  His eyes hardened, but he said quietly, "Yes, I have 415

  your body, but I want your mind too. You were very far away from me—what were you thinking of?"

  Some of the bitterness seeping away, she rephed honestly, "The Costa ball and the first time we saw each other."

  "It started there, didn't it," he stated rather than questioned. "This thing between us, this thing that neither of us wanted or wants, and yet it exists and has since that moment."

  Astonished that he would admit such a thing, Beth stared up at him open-mouthed. In a small uncertain voice she asked, "You feel it too?"

  His face taking on a sardonic expression, he shifted his body slightly so that now he lay next to her, and said, "Why not? If I didn't feel something for you I wouldn't have reacted the way I did when I found you with Lorenzo, nor would I have been so furious and delighted at the same time when I saw you again at Cielo."

  It was as much as he was willing to admit to at the moment, but his words gave Beth a shivery feeling of anticipation. She swallowed with difficulty and, her heart beating with thick painful strokes, she got out, "And what do we do about it?"

  His fingers tightening fractionally on her chin and his eyes on her mouth, he admitted softly, "I don't know. Shall we just take each day as it comes and see what happens?"

  "I-I-I don't know," Beth answered truthfully. A troubled expression on her face, she added, "I wouldn't like being your mistress. Don't you think it will be rather futile for us to continue as we are—you thinking me a liar and an adulteress and me—" Beth stopped abruptly, realizing how very nearly she had come to confessing that she loved him.

  "And you what?" Rafael questioned, the gray eyes now looking at her with a considering glint deep in their depths.

  Beth bit her lip and glanced away. "Nothing." Almost with anguish she blurted out, "I should go back to Natchez."

  Mention of her possible departure from his life stag-416

  gered him, and with eyes gone suddenly dark with some undefinable emotion, as if the words were torn from him, he said in a low voice, "Stay, English. Stay and let us pretend that the past never existed and that we have only the future to look forward to." His eyes left her face and, gazing on some point far away, he added, "I won't force you to come to me, at least," he admitted slowly, "not right away. But give us time to find out what this thing is that exists between us, and give me time to reconcile what you have told me with what I have seen and heard."

  Beth took a deep breath, wanting to give him the time that he asked for and yet terrified that the longer they were together the more deeply in love with him she would fall, and the more likely it was that he would find out that she had been foolish enough to fall in love with him. What power over her that would give him!

  Seeing the indecision in her face, he suddenly pulled her to him and kissed her deeply, tenderly, hungrily, and Beth, unable to help herself, melted into him. "Stay," he murmured against her mouth. "Stay and let the future take care of itself. Will you?"

  Dumbly Beth nodded her head, incapable of denying him anything. He kissed her again, a kiss that was meant to be light and gentle but that flared instantly into passion, and together they were swept up in the sensual world of physical desire.

  It was very late, not too many hours before dawn, when Rafael dressed and, wrapping Beth in an enveloping robe of his, swiftly carried her down the darkened hallway to her own room. Setting her down gently at the doorway, he kissed her again lingeringly, and said half teasingly, half seriously, "Fll try not to compromise you further until we come to some decision. Tonight will have to last me... for a while."

  Bemusedly Beth watched him disappear in the darkness. Exhausted from his lovemaking as well as her own turbulent feelings, she entered her room and gratefully sank down on her own bed. Sleep came quickly, and tonight for the first time in months she slept soundlessly, no dreams, no guilt, no nightmares haunting her.

  For Rafael, though, there was no sleep. Lying in the emptiness of his bed, longing for the warmth of Beth's small shape next to him, he stared blindly into space. He had taken the first steps down the road to a commitment he still fought against. And yet when it would have been so simple to deny the attraction that existed between them he had admitted it. Worse, he had even begun to wonder if perhaps she hadn't told the truth about what had happened that afternoon in New Orleans. And if she had told the truth... With a curse he sat up in bed and, flicking the light covering aside, he left the bed and prowled about the room naked as the day he was born. ^

  Standing at the glass doofs that led out onto the small balcony, he gazed unseeingly at the vivid rays of daylight streaking across the horizon. A cold man, not so much by nature as due to the events that had formed him, he found it inconcei^ble that one woman could smash down all the icy barriers he had erected to protect himself against pain and disillusionment. With those crumbling with every passing hour, he found himself feeling as vulnerable as a foolish love-stricken youth of sixteen. With others he would always be cool and aloof, but with English he was helpless, wanting her, needing her... loving her?

  He balked at that. No. I will not love her, his mind coldly dictated, but his heart rebelled, wanting to let the sweetness and warmth that Beth represented to come flooding through his body and to drive out the iciness that was with him always.

  The battle raged unceasingly within him—had she told the truth or hadn't she? Did it matter? Would she betray him in the future? Had there been other lovers? Did it matter?

  Confused, his emotions battered raw by the battle raging within him, he finally sought his bed, nothing clear in his mind except that he wanted Beth to stay. Let time show him the way... and the truth.

  As the days passed Beth wondered if he had come to believe her. Certainly his actions toward her were quite different. If she had been older or wiser, or if she had been allowed to have her season in London instead of

  being rushed into marriage with the first ehgible young man who appeared on the scene, she would have realized that she was being courted.

  It was there in everything that Rafael did, whether either of them realized it or not, from the agreeable excursions he planned especially for her enjoyment to the small and thoughtful gifts that were so often and unexpectedly dropped in her lap—an expensive bar of delicately perfumed soap, a beautifully shaped and carved comb for her hair, a box of sweetmeats, a pair of gloves.

  Except for the odd fact that she was living in his house with only his distant cousin for chaperon, Rafael did everything that a courting man would do, his manner to her unfailingly polite and courteous. Not once did he put her in an embarrassing situation or take undue liberties. Except that he couldn't control his eyes, and it happened frequently that Beth's gaze would meet his and she would see the hungry desire that burned steadily in their gray depths and her heart would begin to race.

  That he denied himself made her love him even more, for so easily he could have forced her, so easily he could have discreetly continued to visit her rooms, or have made private assignations where she would have been unable to refuse. But he didn't, although the desire to do so was very apparent in his eyes and the way his glance lingered on her mouth or soft shoulders.

  For Beth it was one of the happiest times of her life. The man she loved was always near and attentive and the future had begun to look very bright indeed. The th
ought of returning to Natchez receded and she had even begun to believe that Rafael might seriously be thinking of marriage.

  She and Rafael had been cautious with one another at first, each treading very carefully, each not wanting to be the one to destroy the growing relationship between them, each conscious of the past and the pitfalls that it represented. And as the days had gone by, sunny, warm, and beautiful, so had their association ripened, their conversation more easy, more relaxed, their knowledge of the other growing and widening.

  Rafael was for the first and only time in his life held enthralled by a woman. The bitter edge that had been heard so often in his voice was missing, and he found that there were other ways to enjoy a woman—the pleasure of seeing Beth's enchanting smile flit across her face, or the ways her eyes glistened with delight when he did something that particularly pleased her, the sound of her laughter or the way she walked, all added to his enslavement. And yet he hesitated to make that final commitment, frightened that the English who smiled at him so captivatingly and who filled his heart with delight was a mirage, that one day she would betray him. Grimly he refusedto think of that afternoon in New Orleans, wanting to'believe Beth and willing for the present relentlessly to submerge the cold cynic in him who disbelieved anything a woman said. It wasn't an easy task for him to put aside years of distrust and contempt for the female sex, but gradually, as the weeks passed, almost imperceptibly he did, Beth's warm and gentle influence softening and mellowing the hardness, the icy indifference that was so much a part of him.

  The taming of Renegade Santana was watched with awe by half of San Antonio, and by the middle of June everyone was expecting the announcement of their marriage. The side of him the population had seen these past weeks had caused more than one to revise their opinion of him and to remind themselves that the name "Renegade" had been given to him in his wild youth. Certainly he seemed a changed man—still an unpredictable, dangerous man to be sure, still that aura of coolness and savagery about him, but changed, less forbidding, more approachable.