Do not forget, the priest had told Benicio, urging him to learn the words. It occurred to Tula that perhaps the priest had not wished for Benicio to steal the golden horde at all, only to remember it.
Tula placed as many necklaces as she could around her neck and as many rings as she could upon her fingers, imagining that such a horde could be used by Benicio to give his woman many beautiful things. She had lied to him and now she needed to redeem herself and fulfil her promise. Besides, she owed him her life, as well as her sister’s. This time, instead of stealing his gold, she was going to gather it for him.
She grabbed the hem of her skirt with her fist, reaching with her free hand further and further downwards into what felt like densely packed metal labrets. It was a cache of kings—enough jewellery to adorn a small village of nobles.
Or many generations of them.
A lump came into her throat and she paused. Suddenly, it was so clear. She was not meant to gather this treasure—not any of it. Not a single necklace or ring or gem. Do not forget, said the priest, but he wasn’t talking about the gold. He was talking about the glory and ruin of Chichen Itza itself.
And in that moment, she felt his hand upon her arm. He pulled her out of the alcove and caught her by the waist, and soon they were thrusting upwards like twin fish, the cool clear water caressing their skin, surrounded in bubbles of their exhaling breaths.
His arm remained firmly around her waist as they burst to the surface. He guided her towards a partially submerged rock just below the cenote’s edge. He lifted her upon its flat surface, then hoisted himself next to her. ‘Tula, I need to tell you something,’ he said, struggling to catch his breath.
‘Benicio, I need to tell you something,’ she said.
But it was as if he had not heard her, for his words came in a flood. ‘Tula, I must tell you that I have had a change of heart that will surely bring me dishonour, for I have made a promise to someone back in Spain that I am unable to keep.’
She stared at him in confusion, for he had spoken many difficult words, one after the other.
He shook his head, then began again. ‘Tula, I am not a good man.’
Tula placed her finger upon Benicio’s lips. ‘Benicio, you are a very good man.’
‘No, Tula, I am not. I have killed so many men. So very many—’
‘It is not your fault. You follow Cortés.’
‘And why? For gold, Tula! For evil, wretched gold. Gold for a woman who I hardly know, a woman who is not content unless she is covered in silks.’
Tula was completely confused. He was speaking so quickly, and she did not understand many of the words he was using. ‘Benicio, I—’
‘Tula, I do not want Luisa. And I do not want the treasure.’
Tula gasped. Had he somehow understood what she had finally understood just moments ago? She nodded in affirmation. ‘And I do not want the treasure,’ she said, though that was not why she had gasped. Could it be true? He did not want Luisa? She could not think clearly, and she knew not what to say. On impulse, she unclasped one of her heavy necklaces and let it fall back into the water. Benicio appeared confused as he watched the golden necklace disappear into the depths. ‘What about your family’s tribute?’ he asked in alarm. ‘This treasure could help you, Tula. You must keep it all.’
Tula sighed and shook her head. ‘What did the priest say to you?’
‘Do not forget,’ said Benicio.
‘Do not forget,’ repeated Tula. She held up her rings. ‘He does not want you to forget this.’
‘The treasure of Chichen Itza?’
‘The...greatness of Chichen Itza.’
‘But how can anybody forget the glory of Chichen Itza? Its temples and palaces still stand. Its past is here for all to see.’
‘But what happened to Chichen Itza?’ Tula urged. ‘I tell you at the lake. Do you remember?’
‘Chichen Itza fell, did it not?’ said Benicio.
‘Yes, but how?’
‘Another kingdom rose to power in its place.’
‘You are a good student,’ said Tula. ‘That is what we must never forget.’
‘That kingdoms come and go?’
Tula nodded. ‘If I take this gold for tribute, it will just make the new rulers more powerful.’
‘But if you do not take it, your family will continue to suffer.’
‘Even if I take it, we will continue to suffer,’ Tula said. ‘The priest was trying to tell you to be wise, Benicio. You and all the Spaniards. Do not become like the Mexica, or the Toltecs before them, or the Teotihuacanos before them, or the Maya before them. Do not take too much.’ Tula switched to the Totonac tongue. ‘Be humble.’
‘My countrymen will never understand that phrase, I fear.’
Tula touched Benicio’s hand. ‘No, but you can.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
Benicio wished she had not touched his hand. He could feel the slight pulse of blood in her fingertips, distracting him from her words. Her eyes were bright and clear, and the drops of water in her eyelashes sparkled in the dappled light. ‘You are so beautiful, Tula,’ he said.
‘You are speaking of these?’ she asked, touching her ringed fingers to the heavy necklaces around her neck. ‘They are indeed beautiful.’
‘No, I am speaking of you.’ He reached his arms around her neck and unclasped one of the necklaces. He held it over the water and released it. It disappeared into the depths and with it, a measure of his misery.
‘You do not need adornment,’ he said. ‘You are more beautiful than any goddess.’ He unclasped another necklace and let it drop. ‘Can I say that and still be humble?’
She flushed red, then shook her head, but there was a smile at the edge of her lips. He unclasped another necklace. Then another. He could feel her warm breaths upon his cheek as he unclasped the final necklace. It was as if he were undressing her, though the rest of her body remained fully clothed. His desire stirred.
He let the necklace fall into the cenote and they sat in silence on the flat rock, their bare feet dangling in the cool water. Something had changed between them, though he could not say just what. He nudged her foot with his own.
She opened her mouth to speak and he noticed that a drop of water had settled itself in the groove above her upper lip.
Without thinking, he leaned over and tasted it.
And that was a mistake, because some invisible longing that had crouched inside him all these months leaped forward, and he realised that he would not return to the world above until he had made her his.
He moved to her lower lip and sucked it softly, trying to keep his desire submerged within him. Amazingly, she did not try to pull away. Instead, she sat still, though even she could not conceal her flood of breaths. In truth, he wanted to push her back on to the rock, pull up her skirts and take her right then.
‘I want you, Tula,’ he said, pulling himself away. Her hair hung in wet ropes about her cheeks and neck, framing the regal cheekbones that encased the dark, dangerous pools of her eyes. Her beauty made him feel weak. She was like a painting made real, or some perfectly sculpted bust miraculously imbued with life.
But it was more than that. It was the fire that smouldered within her that drew him, that intense ability she had to seize upon the things around her and transform them into something new. She was his witch. His enchantress. His secret queen. He wanted to bow down before her and pledge his undying fealty. He felt reverent of her. He felt...humble.
Her lips twisted into an impish grin and her dagger brows relaxed into playful half-moons above her eyes. She pulled off one of her rings and tossed it over her shoulder. It hit the water with a plop, then disappeared into the depths. She smiled at him. She lifted her hand before him and nodded encouragingly.
Following her lead, he pu
lled another golden ring from her finger and tossed it over his own shoulder. He made a funny face as it plopped into the water behind him, causing her to giggle. She pulled off another ring and tossed it aside, licking her fingers as if she had just cast away a half-eaten cob of maize.
He pulled another ring from her finger and placed it upon his head. Feigning sleepiness, he yawned and lay down upon the rock. The ring tumbled off his head and into the depths.
Delighted, she laughed, then appeared to strike upon some clever idea. She pulled the last ring from her finger and placed it in her mouth.
She lay back on the flat stone next to him, thrusting an invisible blade into her chest and feigning a dramatic death. Finally, she closed her eyes and lay there, unmoving.
Had she just mocked him? Of course she had, the brazen temptress. And she had also issued him a challenge. Try to retrieve the ring inside my mouth, she had told him. Just try.
He placed his leg across her prone body, then lifted himself astride her, straddling her round hips and becoming instantly aware of his desire. Slow, he told himself, forcing deep breaths. She was so much smaller than him, though her strength was indisputable. He braced his hands upon the flat stone beneath her, careful not to crush her. He bent over and touched his lips to hers.
She tasted earthy and sweet, just as he had remembered. He kissed her softly and coaxingly, trying to encourage her mouth open. But she would not be so easily won. She lay perfectly still, her body stiff, her mouth shut tight, relishing the game she had engineered.
Still, she had no appreciation of the opponent she faced. He lifted her shawl and placed his hand upon her breast, letting her feel his hot breath as he reached beneath her shawl to caress her nipple.
‘Mmm...’ she moaned through her teeth. He kissed her neck, watching with satisfaction as her back arched upwards in response. His kiss upon her neck became a suck and her breathing intensified. He sucked lower down her neck, struggling to keep rule over his desire. Then he took a soft bite.
‘Ow!’ she cried out, but quickly shut her mouth, giving him a wicked idea.
He kissed her lips again, then nuzzled against her ear, kissing and breathing in turn. He watched with satisfaction as the tiny hairs on her skin rose to attention.
As if in retaliation, she arched her back again, pushing her hips against him and feeling his arousal. She moved in a slow circle against him and his self-control seemed to melt with the heat. His desire had risen to its full girth. It poked outside his loincloth and all he wanted was to thrust himself inside of her and find his release.
Instead, he took the very tip of her nipple and squeezed. ‘Ah!’ she cried out and he was instantly kissing her again, his tongue successfully through the barrier of her teeth and probing inside her soft mouth.
He almost cried out in his triumph. But he was not done yet. Now he had to retrieve the ring with his tongue—something she was wickedly determined to deny him.
He decided upon a strategy of soft, probing kisses while he slowly lifted her skirt. He caressed her smooth, damp thighs, trying so very hard to keep his touch gentle and teasing, reminding himself to stay calm. But when he placed his hand atop her woman’s mound and let his finger slide inside her, he found himself quite close to losing control.
He had never felt so much hot, slippery wetness. There was nothing to coax from her: she was ready for him like a flower moist with dew. He pressed his need against her stomach and she gasped, then moaned quietly. It did not matter what language she spoke. She was communicating quite clearly now. She wanted him.
Suddenly, he did not care about the ring or her silly game. His body was ablaze with desire for her, a desire so overwhelming he felt as if any moment he might burst into flames. He stopped probing for the ring and untied his loincloth. He placed her hand upon his engorged shaft.
But it was too soon. She stiffened in alarm, pulling her hand away and bracing it against the rock. She pushed upwards, trying to sit up, and her lips accidentally crashed into his. Soon she had braced herself on both her arms and was pushing him firmly backwards—with her lips. She pushed and pushed until he was lying on his back against the rock and she was straddling him. Then she sat up to observe her accomplishment.
Well done, he thought, lying powerless beneath her, though he was far from bested. Still, now that she was in command, he was powerless to do anything but obey. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, straddling him. The weight of her stomach pressed against his shaft and he breathed, trying not to explode. He feared that she intended to slowly drive him mad.
She bent over him and braced her hands on the flat rock behind him just as he had done to her. Then she placed her lips upon his. She did not have to kiss him long before his tongue had woven with hers and the ring slowly slipped into his own mouth.
‘Ah!’ she yelped, then snickered. He quickly slipped the ring around his tongue, letting her tongue writhe and struggle in an attempt to dislodge it. Slowly, he lifted her skirts and found her again.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
She felt his finger slip into the folds of her womanhood. It felt dangerous and forbidden, his finger in that place, yet she did not want him to withdraw it. Indeed, something inside her craved it. Her hips rocked unbidden and she felt waves of pleasure ripple beneath her skin.
He began to move his finger in rhythm with her own movements, sliding it back and forth across her shallow folds. Part of her feared what he might do. Another part of her prayed for it. She kissed him harder, as if her body had set out towards some important goal whose end she could not know.
Slowly, however, he withdrew his hand, and for a moment she feared he would sit up and take his leave. Instead, he grasped her by the hips with firmness and pulled her thighs over his naked shaft, so that she could feel his hardness.
‘Tula, please, let me love you.’
Tula’s heart caught in her throat. ‘It is dangerous. For women it is different,’ she said.
‘I understand.’
‘I cannot bring a child into this world.’
‘I will not give you one.’
‘But...how?’
‘I know how to keep you from harm. That is all I ever want to do.’
She felt his hard shaft between her legs. It was so large: she had no idea how she could possibly contain him. ‘I do not know. I have never—’
‘Shh,’ he whispered. He moved down the rock and positioned himself beneath her so the tip of him touched her naked folds. ‘You are in control,’ he told her. ‘No harm will come. You can do what you wish.’
He peered up at her, and she saw a trace of sunlight dancing on his strong, angular face. He did not want the treasure or Luisa. Instead, he wanted Tula. She knew it now with certainty, and it was as if all that had been frozen within her were suddenly melting. As she looked into his eyes, she knew that he was her Sun God and his warmth would never cease.
Tentatively, she took him in her hand and gently moved his desire in and around her folds. He let out a moan and waves of unexpected warmth rippled through her body.
She had no idea of the pleasure she could derive from simply watching him experience pleasure and something inside her wanted to increase his pleasure even more.
Slowly, she pushed herself down upon him.
‘Ah,’ she heard herself gasp, for the sensation was like nothing she could have ever dreamed. He was so large, but he fit inside her perfectly, squeezing into her and filling her with a wondrous sense of pleasure and fullness. She kept him just inside her for many long moments, every part of her own body alert. She bent and kissed him again.
‘Tula, Diós Santo, please,’ he gasped helplessly and she felt his strong hands upon her waist. ‘I am going to move you now, yes?’ he asked, but it was not a question, for he pushed her down on to him in full.
She cried out in
pain.
But there was not just pain. There was also bliss and fullness, and a dizzy satisfaction—as if she were drinking in the colours of the sunset. All those reds and pinks and oranges—they seemed to flood her mind with their perfect truths.
‘Are you hurt?’ he breathed.
‘No,’ she said, feeling as if she had drunk too much octli, or wandered for too many hours in the sun. He kissed her gently and softly now, running his fingers through her hair as he rocked his hips upwards, pushing into her rhythmically.
She gave into his soft rocking and her body began to move on its own. Up and down she went, sliding over him with a growing purpose, bending to place her mouth upon his.
He returned her soft kiss and moaned, and she wondered if he felt what she did—this pain that was also pleasure. This strange sense of merging. She moved and moved, feeling a wave building inside of her. ‘Oh,’ she gasped, her energy increasing.
All the thoughts went out of her mind, every single thing she ever knew, everything she had ever wanted or hoped for or dreamed was gone. All that remained was him and her and the invisible depths towards which they were swimming. Together.
Then—splash. She cried out in ecstasy, exploding into a thousand tiny droplets. Unknown muscles clenched and unclenched, throbbing and humming. She gasped in astonishment as her body shivered and flexed with the most profound pleasure she had ever known.
She collapsed in a wash of foam atop him, covered in sweat, trembling with sensation. Her body quivered with satisfaction as the deepest part of her caressed him. She lay there for many long moments, feeling his length still inside her, feeling the hard pounding of his heart against her own chest.
He placed one arm on her back and the other at the back of her head. In a single motion, he had her lying on her back once again. He touched his lips to hers and let the ring drop into her mouth. ‘We are not done yet, my lovely enchantress.’ Then he pushed into her once again.
The Spaniard's Innocent Maiden Page 22