Enchanted Ecstasy

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Enchanted Ecstasy Page 1

by Constance O'Banyon




  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  Enchanted Ecstasy

  by

  Constance O’Banyon

  Copyright © 1984 by Constance O'Banyon

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  This book is dedicated to my lovely daughter Kimberly, who was born in the land of enchantment and reflects its beauty and mystery in the blue of her eyes.

  1

  New Mexico Territory, 1867— Major Kanen Benedict shifted his weight. The straight-back chair he was sitting on was uncomfortable, and patience had never been his strong point. He stood up, revealing the fact that he was a very tall man.

  His silver-gray eyes moved over the room with bored indifference. He noted the cluttered appearance of Colonel Johnson's office. The clock on the mantel showed the lateness of the hour. Sighing inwardly at his commanding officer's tardiness, Kane pushed an unruly lock of ebony hair off his forehead.

  The room was stifling hot, and Kane wished he could remove the bluejacket of his uniform. His increasing impatience took him across the room to the open window where he looked out on the compound, hoping to catch a glimpse of Colonel Johnson.

  A slight breeze filtered in through the window, but it brought no relief from the awful heat. If anything it made it worse. The wind was like a blast of hot air from hell, he thought.

  New Mexico Territory. What was he doing here, he wondered for at least the hundredth time.

  His silver eyes narrowed against the glare of the noonday sun. The fort was silent for the moment, since most of the soldiers were either eating lunch or out on patrol. His eyes scanned the ramp that ran the length of the stockade wall. Kane felt momentary pity for the lone sentry who paced the wall in full-dress uniform. He could imagine how uncomfortable the man must feel in the grueling heat.

  His eyes wandered past the fort to the gate, which stood partially open. His gaze fastened on the distant Sangre de Cristo mountains, which were dubbed the foothills to the Rockies. Whoever had called them foothills could not have been more mistaken. The mountains were tall and majestic, rising high into the heavens. Kane knew if he were in those mountains now it would be cool and green. What a relief it would be from this heat, he thought.

  What a paradox this land was—the lush green mountains with their dense pine forest were surrounded on the outside by a desert of cactus and scrub bush. This was a harsh land, a land of contrasts, ready to prey on the weak, testing a man's strength and endurance. New Mexico Territory—aptly named the Badlands.

  When Kane had first received his orders to come to New Mexico, he had been told to expect a desert populated with tumbleweeds and Indians. He had certainly not been misinformed. The fort stood as the only defense against Indian attacks in this part of New Mexico.

  To Kane's surprise, he had found the social life of Santa Fe acceptable. The town itself was a quaint little village built mostly of adobe. The populace consisted of Spaniards, Mexicans, Indians, and, of course, the badly outnumbered white race. But among these he had found many prominent families. Of course, since he was an officer, he was invited to the more important functions, often rubbing shoulders with Santa Fe's elite. And most of the time he enjoyed these social events, where the men outnumbered the women, two to one.

  So far Kane had been seen in the company of many beautiful women. Some of them had been respectable, most of them were not. Lord, he thought, he was becoming bored with his life.

  He watched as a dust devil whipped up the loose sand and swirled it around in a miniature tornado. He closed his eyes. It was a long way to his home in Boston. No, Boston was not his home. It never had been.

  Kane's father owned one of the largest shipping firms in the country, a fleet of fifteen ships that sailed all over the world. Kane was an only child, and his father had groomed him from childhood to one day head Benedict Shipping.

  Kane remembered how angry his father had become when the War Between the States had ended and his son had reenlisted instead of returning to Boston as had been expected of him. Kane knew he had only reenlisted to thwart Eli. He had called his father by his first name for as long as he could remember. If he had ever called him Father, he was not aware of it. Kane smiled bitterly, remembering his father's face the day he had told him he had reenlisted.

  Eli had been livid as he raged at Kane. "You are doing this just to spite me, Kane. You know I have been waiting for the day you could come into the business as an equal partner," Eli had shouted at him.

  Kane still became angry when he remembered his father's using his influence to get him a desk job in Washington after the Battle of Gettysburg. He thought of the argument that had ensued when he found out that his father had gone to a family friend, a senator, and asked him to make sure his son did not see any fighting.

  Kane drew in a deep breath. That was the past. He stared out the window and watched the changing of' the guard with disinterest. Checking the clock on the mantel, he ground his teeth. Colonel Johnson was never on time. One thing Eli had instilled in his son was the importance of being punctual. Kane was never late for an appointment, and he had very little patience with anyone who was.

  Since Kane was bored, he allowed his mind to wander once more to the past. Eli would find great satisfaction if he knew that his son now regretted reenlisting. Kane thought back again to the day he had told Eli about his decision to stay in the army. His father's face had flushed with anger.

  ' 'I offer you a position that any young man would give his eyeteeth for, but you, in your arrogance, throw it back in my face!"

  Kane had stood his ground that day, refusing to be intimidated. "I want nothing from you, Eli. You want me under your thumb so you can run my life. Nothing matters to you except money and power. You killed my mother, and you want to destroy me as well. I warn you* Eli. I am not weak like my mother was. I am like you more than I would care to admit, but with one exception . . . I am motivated neither by power nor greed."

  Once more Kane had seen his father's face redden with anger.

  "You still blame me for your mother's death. That's what this is all about, isn't it?"

  "Hell, yes, I blame you. You killed her just as surely as if you had drawn a gun and shot her. And you thought you could run my life. Do you have any idea how I felt when I found out you had arranged for me to spend most of the war at a desk in Washington?"

  "There was nothing wrong with my using my influence to keep you out of the fighting. You should be grateful to me. You might well be dead right this moment, had I not used my influence to help you."

  "You will excuse me if I don't show my appreciation for what you did, Eli."

  Eli Benedict had not gotten where he was without being able to manipulate people, so he tried another approach with his s
on. "Kanen, son, I am an old man. Who knows how much longer I have to live. I built this business out of nothing, hoping one day to pass it on to you. With a suitable wife at your side . . . say someone like Lucinda Blake, all I have would someday belong to you."

  Kane had studied his father's face. "You didn't have me in mind when you accumulated your fortune. What you did, you did for yourself and no one else. You would like it if you could dangle me on a string before your friends as your creation, your puppet. As far as Lucinda Blake is concerned, I will never marry her. I can see where you might think she would be the ideal wife for me. You think just because she is from one of the best families in Boston, she is perfect." Kane laughed bitterly. "You couldn't be more mistaken, Eli. I have had her in my bed and . . . she leaves me cold." Kane did not know why he had spoken so freely of his past relationship with Lucinda. It had never been his habit to tarnish a lady's reputation. He supposed he had wanted to show his father that his perfect choice was no lady.

  His father had practically choked on his anger that day. "You dare to seduce a girl of one of Boston's most prominent families, and then make sport of her? If you had any decency about you, you would do the right thing by marrying her."

  Kane had only laughed. "Would you believe me, Eli, if I told you that the lady seduced me? I might also add that I was not the first to be with her."

  "You are no son of mine. I am well aware of your reputation with the ladies. In the past I have overlooked your little affairs, thinking one day you would settle down and be a son to be proud of. Apparently I was wrong."

  "A rotten apple won't fall too far from the tree," Kane told him. "I am also aware of your little affairs. That is the reason my mother is dead—she just didn't want to live anymore. You should have been more discrete, Eli."

  His father's face had drained of all its color. "Who told you that? I suppose it was your mother.''

  "What does it matter now? The deed is done, but don't go pointing a guilty finger at me. If I ever did decide to get married, I would not cause my wife's death by being unfaithful to her. If I couldn't be satisfied with just one woman, I would never marry, and I doubt I ever will. No woman holds my interest for very long."

  Eli had struck Kane that day, and Kane had stormed out of the house vowing never to return.

  Kane was now feeling very dissatisfied with his life. He had drunk too much, gone to too many parties, had too many women, and still his life was empty. What did he want? What was he searching for? He didn't know, but whatever it was had always eluded him. Here he was in New Mexico, jumping-off place of the world, and he was at a standstill. There had been a parade of beautiful women tripping through his life, but none of them had meant anything to him. He supposed he was more like his father than he cared to admit. He used women for his own needs, never caring about their feelings. That thought was very distasteful to him. He didn't want to think he was anything like Eli.

  Glancing at the clock once more, Kane frowned. Most probably Mrs. Johnson had the colonel hanging curtains, or some such nonsense. The colonel had been stationed in New Mexico for over fifteen years. His command had become lax, and Kane liked things neat and orderly. As second-in-command he had tried to whip the men into shape, but it had thus far been a thankless task. Lately there had been trouble with the Indians, and Kane knew that was what his commander wanted to see him about.

  Kane stared down at the toe of his shiny black boot. Lord, the boredom was about to get to him. He crossed the room and sat down once more in the straight-back chair and crossed his long legs. Hell, he didn't have any answers, and he had pretty well burned his bridges behind him. Unbuttoning the top button of his blue jacket, he leaned back in the chair. Was he a user? Did he only take from others, never giving of himself? He had learned at an early age that women were susceptible to his charms. He had been with so many different women that he couldn't even remember their faces. Of course he had always avoided the marriageable ones. With his parents' marriage as an example, he wanted nothing to do with matrimony. He would leave marriage to young fools and old men. He didn't need a woman cluttering up his life. Last night he had visited Rosita's Cantina. The singer there was a fiery redhead who usually inspired passion in him, but last night she had left him feeling unmoved. He knew he would not seek her out again. It was always the same now, as soon as he came to know a woman he would become bored with her. He knitted his brow thoughtfully. Had there ever been a woman he had wanted that had not come to him willingly? No, he could not remember a one who had not been his for the asking. Perhaps that was where the trouble lay.

  Sighing heavily, he stood up and ran his hands through his ebony hair. His shoulders were broad and his waist was narrow. His face was handsomely arrogant. His silver-gray eyes were what was usually noticed about him first. They were almost transparent in color, and more often than not were piercing and unsettling. One smile from his sensuous lips and many ladies had fallen prey to his charms. His manner of speech was clipped, and it was obvious he was well educated. Those silver eyes could hold a woman spellbound, but no woman had ever caused them to soften with love, though many had tried.

  Kane heard the sound of a rider entering the fort. Walking over to the window he watched the stranger as he dismounted and made his way toward the colonel's office. Kane thought the man would be somewhere in his fifties. He had a sturdy build of medium size, and iron-gray hair. The man's face was handsome, and he walked purposefully, proudly. His manner of dress proclaimed him to be a rancher and not just some drifter. The look on the man's face was unsmiling, and Kane thought he would be a dangerous man to cross.

  Before Kane had time to wonder who the stranger was, he saw Colonel Johnson, hurrying across the compound to greet him, and their voices reached Kane through the open window.

  "Well, Johnson," the man drawled, "you had better have a good reason for asking me here today."

  "I do, Jonas. Come into my office where we can talk in private."

  Kane quickly rebuttoned his top button and stood at attention as the two men entered the room.

  Colonel Johnson eyed his young major, then looked back at the man beside him. "Jonas, I would like you to meet my second-in-command, Major Kanen Benedict. Kane, this is Jonas Deveraux."

  Jonas nodded at Kane but ignored his outstretched hand, as if he dismissed him as unimportant.

  "Jonas here owns the biggest cattle ranch in New Mexico, major. He is Santa Fe's leading citizen," the colonel elaborated.

  Kane recognized the name at once. He had heard a lot about Jonas Deveraux since coming to New Mexico. It seemed everyone held him in high esteem. He watched as Jonas's eyes narrowed and he gave Colonel Johnson a look of contempt.

  "Spare me your attempt to elevate me in society, Johnson, and get down to the reason you sent for me today."

  Kane frowned at Jonas's pointed dislike for his commander. Colonel Johnson looked flustered for the moment, overpowered by Jonas Deveraux.

  "Jonas, we have been friends for a long time."

  "Correction, Johnson," Jonas interrupted, "you and I have known each other for a long time. We have never been friends."

  The colonel squared his shoulders. "Sit down, Jonas, I have something important to talk to you about."

  "It must be of great consequence for you to send for me.

  "I wasn't sure you would come."

  "I damned near didn't, until my curiosity got the better of me." Jonas sat down on the edge of the desk, and nodded at the colonel. "Have a seat, Johnson," he said, and Kane was surprised when the colonel readily complied.

  Jonas turned and favored Kane with a glance, and Kane was aware of his piercing green eyes. Never had he seen eyes such a deep green color before. Kane smiled slightly, and thought he detected a hint of a smile on the rancher's face. Jonas Deveraux was enjoying himself, he thought.

  "All right, Johnson, I didn't ride all the way out here to pass the time of day with you," he said turning to the colonel. "What do you want?"

  The
colonel cleared his throat nervously. "I am sure you have heard about the raids on the outlying ranches. We have evidence that points to the Jojoba tribe."

  "What kind of evidence?"

  Colonel Johnson opened his desk drawer and removed a knife and handed it to Jonas. Jonas examined the knife and handed it back to him.

  "Yep, that's a knife belonging to someone of the Jojoba tribe, all right. It's silver and turquoise, with the design of the sun and the moon. What does that prove, Johnson?"

  "This knife was found at the scene of the last raid. The Jojoba are wreaking havoc across the territory, and it is my job to stop them."

  Jonas smiled. "Maybe it was the Jojoba, maybe it wasn't. If it was, it is merely Mangas's way of leaving his calling card. There was no harm done, a few barns burned, a few horses and cattle stolen."

  "It could have been worse, Jonas. What if some of the ranchers and their families had been killed? It's my job to protect the people of this territory. These raids are widespread. My men can't be everywhere at once."

  "If it was Mangas, as you suspect, and if he had wanted to kill someone, they would now be dead, and not you, me, or anyone else could have stopped him."

  "Suppose your ranch is next, Mr. Deveraux?" Kane could not help asking. "Would you treat the matter so lightly then?"

  Jonas fixed his green eyes on Kane and frowned. Then his mouth eased into a grin. "You must be new around here, soldier."

  "I have been stationed here for the last six months, Mr. Deveraux."

  "Well, seeing as how you are new here, I will forgive you for your stupidity, Major Benedict." Jonas said.

  Kane's eyes narrowed. "Explain, Mr. Deveraux," he said angrily.

  Jonas looked at Colonel Johnson. "You tell him. He is your fetch-and-carry boy," he said insultingly.

  Kane's eyes blazed angrily at the insult. He was about to make his anger known when he saw Colonel Johnson shake his head and send him a warning glance.

  "Major, Jonas here was married to a Jojoba sq . . . woman."

 

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