Rafael closed his study door behind Felipe, offered him a seat and a drink, then asked the question that had plagued him all evening.
“How do I tell one twin from the other?”
Felipe choked on his wine, coughing and sputtering. He attempted to get his breath.
“I said something to upset you.”
Felipe wiped at his shirt and jacket with his handkerchief. “No. No, it is just that...”
His words trailed off as if he didn’t wish to speak about it. Rafael held a distinctively different opinion.
“I’ll have my answer, Felipe, now!”
Felipe bristled against his commanding tone. “It is difficult to speak of something so personal.”
“It is necessary?”
Felipe reluctantly gave a nod. “Annabelle had a birthmark. A rather large one, which I assume would be smaller now that she is grown, but it should still be there.”
“Where?”
“It, ah, it is—that is—”
“In an area that I wouldn’t be familiar with unless she was my wife?” Rafael asked, attempting to ease the man’s ridiculous discomfort.
“Precisely,” Felipe said with a smile that quickly faded as Rafael spoke.
“Tell me where it is located.”
Thinking he had the problem solved, Felipe’s grin returned. “I shall have Isabel see if the birthmark is there.”
Rafael was fast losing his patience. “I will not have Gaby subjected to such an examination. She has gone through enough.”
“I agree with you,” Felipe sighed. “She has gone through much these last two days.”
“Then tell me and I will find a way to broach this difficult matter with her,” Rafael suggested.
Felipe sighed and eased back in the chair. “I assume, now that she is grown, that it would be beneath her left breast.”
Rafael tried to recall seeing such a mark there. He couldn’t, and he feared there wasn’t one, making her Calida, not Annabelle.
“Thank you,” he said. “I will see to this matter as promptly and discreetly as possible.”
“Good,” Felipe said, happy it was settled and his embarrassment past. “Now let us share another glass of wine and talk of your vineyard.”
Rafael agreed with a short nod. He didn’t want to share wine or talk of the vineyards. He wanted to return to his room, hope that Gaby was still there, and make love to her... and find that damn birthmark.
Instead, he poured the wine and hoped it wouldn’t be long before he could do just that.
The hacienda was quiet, all asleep, by the time Rafael finished with Felipe. He removed his jacket as he walked to his room, glad his quarters were set away from the rest of the house. He cherished his solitude, especially now that Gaby shared it.
He entered his room, locking the door behind him. The candles were lit, the wine poured, and Gaby waited. She sat in the middle of his bed, her bare legs folded under her. She wore one of his white linen shirts. It lay partially open, tempting the viewer with only a peek of her delicious breasts and soft belly. The ends of the shirt were tucked between her thighs where her hands lay folded. She never looked more inviting.
“I stayed awake so we could talk,” she said, a slight blush staining her cheeks. “I-I borrowed your shirt. I couldn’t stand to put that dress back on.”
Rafael dropped his jacket on the chair, removed his shirt, and continued undressing.
“Rafael,” Gaby said with a note of alarm. “I want to talk.”
Rafael smiled. “So do I.”
Her gaze remained locked on him, on every muscle and bulge as they came into view. “Talk. Conversation talk,” she added quickly.
He walked to the bed, stood there a moment while he watched her emotions war, then stretched his long body out in front of her like a lazy panther.
“I’m listening.”
Gaby was watching all the warm, tempting parts of him that always brought her so much pleasure. She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut tight.
“I really need to talk with you.”
“Then look at my face,” he ordered.
Her blush deepened to a bright red. “I can’t.”
“Why?” he asked teasingly.
“You’re too tempting.”
Gaby felt the bed bounce from Rafael’s weight and movement. She wondered what he was about, but refused to look and satisfy her curiosity.
“Open your eyes,” he said.
Gaby shook her head.
He laughed and poked her in the belly. “You’re afraid.”
That was all she needed to hear. Her eyes popped open. “I’m not afraid.” She smiled when she saw he had covered himself from the waist down. “Just cautious,” she added with a poke to his ribs.
“Then you better start talking, or your caution will be thrown to the wind.”
Her expression grew serious and her chin dropped just enough to show she felt defeated. “I don’t want to be one of the Galvez twins.”
“It’s only a name,” he said reassuringly.
“I like my name. I like me.”
“I like you too. A name cannot change you.”
“She already tries to change me, and no one is even certain who I am.”
“Your life would be easier as the daughter of the Galvezes,” he said, trying to ease her worries.
She shook her head slowly. “No, it wouldn’t. I love my people; the ones who struggle every day to survive, who laugh and sing with gaiety, who accept their friends for who they are and not by their wealth or importance in the community. We are different, you and I, Rafael.”
Her truthful words stung his pride. “We are not different.”
“How can you say that? I am here serving a punishment due to your power and influence.”
“You are here because laws must be observed. That is the only way the people can be protected.”
“You never gave me a chance to explain, never bothered to listen.”
“You had no business taking Bella.”
“My brother was hurt.”
“You should have asked permission.”
“Would you have given it?”
“I would have sent someone to help him.”
“But you would not have gone yourself... unless it was another ranchero that needed help.”
Rafael opened his mouth to speak, but Gaby silenced him with her finger to his lips. “Your world is different from mine, and I do not wish to enter it.”
“Worlds can always merge,” he said softly.
“That would mean change.”
“You don’t think I can change?”
“Perhaps,” —she shrugged— “with time.”
“We have much time, querida,” he said, running his hand slowly along her thigh.
“No, we don’t have time. The Galvezes plan to take me away unless I am your intended.”
Rafael’s fingers worked their way beneath the shirt, pulling it free. He pushed it open, touching her soft belly. “No one will take you away from me,” he whispered.
Gaby closed her eyes and sighed, content with his familiar caresses and reassurance.
His fingers relaxed her and when they playfully squeezed her breast, she almost purred like a contented kitten.
Rafael’s eyes lingered beneath her left breast.... it wasn’t there. The birthmark wasn’t there. She wasn’t Annabelle. He felt a rage, a sudden, horrible rage.
He sprung up. The blanket fell away from him. He grabbed Gaby around the waist and brought her to him swiftly and possessively.
“You belong to me. No one, no one, will take you from me.”
His kiss was filled with savage hunger. Gaby could hardly get her breath. His one hand reached up and gripped a handful of her hair. He pulled her head back away from his hungry kisses.
“Tell me you will never leave me,” he demanded.
“Never would I leave you.”
“Promise,” he insisted adamantly, tightening his grip on her hair.
“Rafael, you’re hurting me!” she cried.
He pushed her head toward him, her face only inches from his.
“Promise me.” His lips brushed hers. “God, querida, I cannot live without you. Promise me.”
His plea was so painfully sincere that it stabbed at Gaby’s heart. “I promise,” she whispered.
“Say it again,” he demanded and kissed her.
“I promise,” she said against his lips.
“Again.”
“I promise.”
“Keep telling me,” he insisted as he laid her back upon the bed and covered her with the length of him.
Gaby’s words drifted like a steady rhythm on the warm night air. They rose and fell in pitch with each intimate touch of Rafael’s lips.
He feasted on her body like a starved man who might never taste food again. His mouth enjoyed each full, hard nipple. His tongue savored every inch of her warm flesh.
And when she thought she was at the peak of her passion, his fingers crawled slowly inside her with skillful precision, working their magic.
“Rafael,” she whispered urgently.
He leaned over her then, the hot blue of his eyes scorching her already heated flesh. “Promise me.” His voice was harsh and tight with control.
“I promise,” she repeated, grabbing his arms to pull him to her. They were like metal, stiff, hard, and unmovable.
“Keep telling me.”
“But I want you,” she cried.
“Where do you want me?”
“Inside me,” she said without hesitation.
“Then promise me,” he demanded. “Promise me over and over while I bury myself deeper and deeper within you.”
“I promise.” Her voice rose as he entered her.
“Don’t stop.”
Gaby continued telling him, her voice quivering, rising, and falling with each powerful thrust. He drove deeper and harder as her voice urged him on. It was a powerful intoxicant with its faint tremor. She told him what he wanted to hear, needed to hear. She was his now and always. The thought and her words excited him beyond control. He felt her tighten around him, squeeze him, promise him to never let go.
They exploded together. Their bodies trembled, shuddered, and collapsed against each other.
As Rafael felt the last of himself spill into her, he heard her whispered words. The ones he knew should be coming from his lips.
“I love you.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Gaby rose early, before sunrise. The last few days had been draining leaving her feeling much too tired and not the least bit hungry especially in the morning, though later in the day she would sometimes find herself ravenous. And her emotions were so unpredictable. She felt like screaming one minute and crying another.
She walked out to the courtyard, sitting on the low adobe wall to watch the beauty of the sunrise. She wore her “peasant garb,” as Dona Isabel called it, a brown skirt and white blouse. The woman constantly threatened Gaby with destroying the clothes. Gaby constantly stood up to her. An act Dona Isabel remarked needed correcting immediately.
Gaby disliked the woman immensely. Her stomach rumbled again and she placed her hand over it. She tried so hard to deny the obvious. She had kept telling herself for the last few weeks that she was upset over all that had happened, but she was no fool. She knew why she was feeling the way she did. She couldn’t deny it any longer even though she wanted to.
She sighed finally accepting the fact that... she was pregnant.
Her true identity really didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that she carried Rafael’s child. She wondered what he would do when she told him. She didn’t want to tell him, not just yet. She would wait and see. One thing was certain though, she had no intention of leaving Los Angeles and her family.
When the sun had almost risen completely, Gaby joined Lupe in the cookhouse. Her hands were deep in dough when Rafael entered.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Helping Lupe with breakfast.”
“You are supposed to be getting ready to join everyone for breakfast.
“I’m not hungry,” she said and punched the dough.
“I didn’t ask if you were hungry. Now go get dressed and join us.”
“And if I don’t want to?”
“This matter is not negotiable.”
“Very well,” she said and wiped her hands on her white apron.
Rafael disliked the distress he was causing her. But until this matter could be settled he had no choice. And he wasn’t fool enough to believe she would actually obey him.
“You will do as I say, Gaby,” he instructed sternly and walked from the room.
Gaby appeared for breakfast as directed, but she was dressed as she was dressed that morning, in peasant garb.
“Really, Rafael, this is too much,” Dona Isabel complained. “The girl should at least follow your orders.”
It was Dona Maria who came to Gaby’s defense. “Isabel, you can’t expect the girl to change overnight for our convenience. She is accustomed to a certain way of life.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” she sighed. “After breakfast, Gaby, I shall begin to teach you the proper attire and actions for a girl of your breeding.”
Gaby was about to refuse her offer when Rafael spoke for her.
“That is most generous, Dona Isabel. I’m sure Gaby would appreciate your expertise in the matter.”
“I should have thought of it sooner. After all, how could she be expected to know how to behave properly when she was raised by peons.”
Gaby stood and threw her napkin on the table. “Since I was raised by peons, it is best I eat with them. She pushed her chair back and stormed from the room, Rafael’s demand that she return trailing after her.
Rafael’s wrath quickly switched to Dona Isabel when Gaby didn’t heed his warnings and return. “Dona Isabel, this is my home. I demand certain things, not only of my servants, but of my guests as well. One of those things I find important is respect. If you find you are unable to give it to anyone other than your own class, then kindly keep your remarks to yourself.”
“Really, Rafael, I must protest your treatment of my wife,” Don Felipe said, insulted by his statement.
“You may protest all you like, Felipe. Your wife will still obey my rules.”
“This is ridiculous. The girl needs to be taught manners—”
“Padre Pablo has arrived!” The excited shout cut Felipe off. More voices joined the others. Servants ran from their chores to greet the priest who had for many years served as padre at the San Gabriel Mission.
“Finally, some answers,” Rafael said and stood to go greet the padre.
Padre Pablo was a rotund little man who wore a perpetual smile. His hair was thick and white and only covered the back and sides of his head. The top of his head shined like a polished bowl.
He was blessing all the workers who greeted him and as Rafael approached him, his smile quickly faded.
“I must speak with you in private,” he said anxiously and a bit fearfully.
“Do you wish to rest first?” Rafael asked, surprised by the priest’s apparent urgency.
“No, no, we must speak now.”
Rafael made the necessary introductions, allowing a few pleasantries to be exchanged before he whisked the padre away to his study without explanation.
Padre Pablo gratefully accepted the glass of Madeira offered him and downed the contents in one quick gulp. Rafael immediately refilled it.
“Is something troubling you, Padre?”
The padre took a moment to wipe his brow with his handkerchief. “I find I must confess a sin.”
Rafael couldn’t hide his shocked expression. “Should I summon a priest?”
“No, my son, you will hear my confession.”
“But I am not a priest.”
“No, but you are the only one that I trust and that I am certain will be able to help all those i
nvolved.”
Rafael sat forward in his chair. “I’m listening, Padre.”
The padre took another sip of the wine to fortify himself before he spoke. “When the San Gabriel Mission was started, it was only me and Padre Manuel. We did all we could to get it to flourish, but the area and its people were poor. We gave away all the food we grew and helped clothe those we could. It was a difficult task. We’d pray every night for help, and when we finally thought all was lost and the mission would have to be closed... the twins were delivered to our doorstep.”
He took a deep breath, wiped his brow again, and continued. “They were so tiny, the baby girls. They were left in a large basket snuggled together as though inseparable. A note was found within their blanket. It stated that if the girls were cared for and protected by the mission through the years, each month, money would be left for the mission to use as needed. But the girls were to be tended to, and good loving families found to raise them—separately. That was also one of the requests.”
The padre shook his head. “The money offered us was enough to see the mission prosper. The cross that was found with them was their only heritage. The note said that they were born of the Galvez family of Spain, but that if anyone discovered this information it would mean instant death for the baby girls. Padre Manuel made some discreet inquires of friends in Spain. The information we received substantiated the note’s accusations. Someone in Spain wished the girls dead.”
Rafael couldn’t believe what he was being told. Why? Why would someone want innocent babies killed?
The padre continued. “Padre Manuel and I felt it was our Christian duty to protect the girls and decided to follow the instructions in the note. We called in a woman from the village to care for them while we set about the task of finding them good homes. The one baby soon took ill. We tried everything to help her get well, but she was so tiny, so weak. She died. The woman who cared for her insisted she was doomed from birth. She babbled about the mark on her small chest. The mark of death she called it. But it was only a birthmark. I have seen many like it.”
So Annabelle was dead. Rafael felt only sorrow for the baby, no regret for what might have been, but he was puzzled. There still were two girls. How?
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