For Honor’s Sake

by Connie Mason

  But then he had remembered that he had married Julie under a misconception. That she hadn’t been raped by Kelly as he first believed. In assuming a responsibility toward Julie he was knowingly disregarding a far greater obligation; one of long standing. His father would never forgive him for bringing home an Anglo bride and he certainly had earned Elena’s contempt for breaking his marriage contract.

  Why? he asked himself bitterly. Rod knew the answer to that question immediately. He had lusted after a honey-haired witch, married her before he had gained his good senses, then foolishly left her at the mercy of men like Brute Kelly. Even if he hadn’t been the one to deflower her, responsibility for her welfare still would weigh heavily upon him. Caramba! he cursed beneath his breath. If Julie would have returned east none of this would have happened. As it turned out he was saddled with a wife he didn’t want, an irate father and a fiancée—or ex-fiancée—who was likely to slit his throat.

  5

  As soon as Julie dressed and they wolfed down their meager breakfast, they continued their journey south. The weather was milder than in San Francisco and Julie enjoyed the gentle sunshine warming her back and shoulders. In New York it would be snowing, she thought idly.

  Rod had hardly spoken to her all morning. Whenever she ventured a tentative smile in his direction she was met by cold indifference. Even her attempts at conversation fell upon deaf ears. Finally, she gave up, deciding she could be just as taciturn and unpleasant as Rod. How could he expect their marriage to work if he continued to blame her for something that was none of her doing, she sniffed angrily.

  After Rod had made love to her and she learned she could become pregnant from their encounter, Julie decided she would do her best to make their marriage successful. She probably could have done a lot worse than marry a man like Rod Delgado. It could well have been someone like Brute Kelly. After all, she took her chances when she joined Polly in this madcap venture. If only Rod’s father wasn’t so dead set against an American daughter-in-law perhaps she and Rod might have a chance. And then she remembered Elena, the woman Rod was to marry.

  “We’re nearly there,” Rod announced sullenly, breaking into her reverie.

  “At your rancho?”

  “No. At the mission of San Luis Obispo. We’ll be stopping there first.”

  “Why? Shouldn’t we go on if you intend to reach your hacienda by dark?”

  Just then Julie caught sight of the mission rising in the distance. The crude adobe and brick building with red tile roof was founded in 1772 by Father Serra and surrounded by a small town of sorts. The town consisted of one or two cantinas, a few shops, and several adobe houses sporting ominous iron shutters at the windows and doors. When Julie questioned Rod he told her that outlaws and bandits frequently raided the area and residents resorted to the ironwork for protection.

  As they approached the mission Julie could see that it was in need of repairs and obviously poor. Several Indian children played in the yard while their parents worked the fields nearby or cared for the animals.

  The mission had solid, massive, stucco-covered adobe walls with broad undecorated wall faces built around a patio with a garden. Arcaded corridors and low-pitched red tile roofs with wide projecting eaves protected the inhabitants from rain and wind. Several smiling children ran up to Julie and Rod as they descended from their wagon, chattering in Spanish. Rod smiled, judiciously handing out coins and patting dark, shining heads.

  “You spoil them, Don Rodrigo.”

  Julie looked up to see a small, dark man approaching through one of the arcaded corridors. His brown, cowled robe proclaimed him to be one of the Franciscans. From a rope belt around his waist hung a set of prayer beads and his sandaled feet slapped noisily against the hard-packed sand. A fringe of hair surrounded a nearly bald head but the padre’s gentle expression gave the impression of suffering and deprival.

  “Buenas dias, Padre, it’s good to see you again,” greeted Rod affably. “Have you been saving many souls in my absence?”

  “As many as God allows,” smiled the padre. “But you know my duties are more than just priest. To my people I am farmer, businessman, trader, doctor, teacher, builder, whatever is necessary. My children look to me for all manner of guidance.”

  “Ah, Padre,” mocked Rod, laughing, “you are indeed a wonder.”

  “You jest, of course, Don Rodrigo, but who else is there to teach our less fortunate brothers to make blankets, tan hides, manufacture shoes, make soap and pottery, mill flour, and care for themselves, if not for the Franciscan fathers?”

  “I’m sure your efforts will be rewarded by God,” replied Rod seriously.

  All the time Rod and the priest talked, Julie stood silently by. Their entire conversation was conducted in Spanish, of which she understood little. She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot while they continued speaking, ignoring her completely.

  If Julie thought the two men had deliberately ignored her she would have been shocked to learn they were now discussing her. “I would have a favor of you, Padre,” Rod said, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

  “Does it concern the woman with you, my son?” asked the padre, sparing a glance in Julie’s direction.

  “Si, Padre,” admitted Rod. “I wish you to marry us.”

  “No! Impossible! Have you forgotten? You are already betrothed to Dona Elena.”

  Rod flushed guiltily at the padre’s shocked expression. He realized that the priest could not be half as surprised as his own father when he learned what Rod had done. “Would you have my child born a bastard?” he asked quietly.

  “But she is an Anglo,” sputtered the good padre. “I have known you all your life, Don Rodrigo. Whatever possessed you to take such a woman? Grant you she is lovely, but the kind of woman who comes to California can be nothing more than a puta … a prostitute.”

  “You are wrong, Padre,” Rod countered firmly. “Julie is a young, innocent girl. I took her virginity and am bound by honor to marry her.”

  “But, Rodrigo, an Anglo?” the padre protested. “She is probably not even of our faith. Would it not better serve your honor if you found another man to wed her?”

  Rod bristled indignantly. “And if there is a child of our union? Should I allow another man to claim what is mine?”

  The priest shrugged helplessly. “It will anger your father greatly, not to mention Dona Elena, but I will do what I must.” Then he turned to Julie, stretched out a calloused hand and said in broken English, “Welcome to the mission of San Luis Obispo, child. I am called Padre Juan.”

  Julie smiled shyly, accepting the proffered hand warmly. “Thank you, Padre Juan. Your mission is very impressive.”

  Rod relaxed visibly, sensing that his first obstacle had been met and surmounted with Padre Juan’s acceptance of Julie. My … wife’s name is Juliet, Padre,” Rod said, stumbling slightly over his words.

  “Appropriate,” mumbled Padre Juan, thinking of the ill-fated Romeo and Juliet. “Come inside children and rest while I prepare for the ceremony.”

  Julie stopped short. “Ceremony? What ceremony?”

  “I am to marry you and Don Rodrigo,” informed the priest.

  “But we are already married,” protested Julie.

  Padre Juan’s dark eyes glared accusingly at Rod. “You may be wed but certainly not in the eyes of God. Don Rodrigo is well aware that his father will never accept a marriage performed by anyone but a priest according to the rites of the Holy Church. And even then his blessing will not be easily won.”

  When Julie still hesitated, Rod grasped her hand and pulled her with him into the cool building. The priest led them to a small, crudely furnished room and bade Julie enter and rest until she was summoned. When the door closed, Rod had departed with the holy man and she found herself alone.

  Julie paced nervously for several minutes, barely aware of her surroundings. Why was Rod marrying her again, she wondered? If he didn’t consider himself truly wed before, why marry her now in
his church? How less complicated things would be if he just returned her to San Francisco where they could live their separate lives as if they had never met. The chance that she would become pregnant from their one encounter seemed so remote as to not even exist. All he had to do was wait a month to find out if his seed took hold before he brought her before a priest. Julie knew enough about the Catholic religion to know that once they exchanged vows before a priest they would be irrevocably bound. She could not understand the code of honor that dictated their marriage just because Rod had taken her virginity, especially in the face of such irreconcilable differences. The least of which were Rod’s disapproving father and jilted bride-to-be.

  A mute Indian boy brought a large pitcher of water and Julie ceased her silent ragings to enjoy the unexpected luxury of washing all over. After her bath she tested the crude but clean bed and, finding it surprisingly comfortable, fell immediately asleep. She knew nothing more until she awoke abruptly to find a plump Indian woman shaking her. It was dark outside and a single candle sputtered feebly on the nightstand.

  The woman said something in Spanish and motioned toward the chair, grinning broadly. Julie looked in the direction of her gesture and was stunned to see a beautiful white outfit carefully laid out. She arose, rubbed her eyes and carefully inspected the lovely garments made almost entirely of delicate lace. The woman, whose name Julie learned was Rosa, called the blouse a camisa. It had short, puffed sleeves ending at the elbow and a low neckline adorned with a wide ruffle. The skirt consisted of yards of ruffled lace ending at the ankle which Julie thought indecent. A lace mantilla to cover her hair and low heeled white slippers completed the outfit surely meant to be her wedding dress. Julie could not imagine where Rod had obtained such a lovely garment on such short notice.

  After Rosa helped Julie dress and comb her long hair, she guided the bride to the chapel. Julie found the chapel lavishly appointed, even rich, considering the crude state of the rest of the mission. She could detect the sparkle of gold in the tall candlesticks, chalice, statues and huge cross that adorned the wall over the altar.

  Rod stepped out of the shadows and Julie gasped at his imposing figure clad entirely in black and silver. He resembled a handsome pirate in his tight black trousers, short black jacket lavishly trimmed in silver and tall shiny boots made of expensive leather. Though she could not read the expression on his face, Julie thought she detected a glimmer of approval in his dark eyes as she approached the altar where Padre Juan stood waiting to begin the ceremony.

  When Julie reached Rod’s side the tension between them almost crackled. Whatever they felt for one another certainly was not apathy. By the time Padre Juan began the ceremony, Julie’s legs were shaking. The thought that this arrogant, intimidating man, often moody, yet capable of reducing her to the consistency of jelly, would have complete control over her life, was truly frightening.

  As if sensing her thoughts, Rod squeezed her hand and whispered softly, “Courage, querida. Would you have the padre think you are a reluctant bride?”

  Julie slanted him a quelling look but nevertheless stiffened her slim shoulders as she gave the correct responses during the blessedly brief ceremony witnessed by several of Padre Juan’s flock. She lifted shocked eyes to Rod when he grasped her hand and slipped a heavy gold band on her finger. Suddenly it was over and Julie followed Rod from the chapel to the small dining room where Padre Juan joined them for a hastily prepared wedding feast.

  “You look lovely, querida,” Rod said as he gallantly seated her.

  “The dress is beautiful,” Julie acknowledged. “Where did you get it on such short notice? Surely it isn’t the dress your … Elena … was to wear.”

  “Even I would not stoop to such a gesture,” Rod said, somewhat hurt by her low opinion of him. “The dress you are wearing, even my own clothing, was meant for another caballero and his betrothed. The clothes will be cleaned and returned in time for their wedding. I would not have my bride clothed in rags for this important occasion.”

  Before she could answer, Rosa served their food on large platters and Julie devoted herself to the plain but savory fare. Besides frijoles (delicious beans mashed and fried in bacon drippings), there were enchiladas, quesadillas and tortillas, circles of thin flour dough rolled and filled with bits of meat, beans and cheese, some in a rich red sauce and some plain. The meal ended with a flaky custard pastry and cups of thick sweetened chocolate whipped to a froth.

  Julie had barely finished her last morsel of dessert when Rod abruptly arose from the table. “Padre Juan has suggested we spend the night at the mission and I have accepted, Julie,” he informed her, moving to help her from her chair. “It grows late. Bid the good padre goodnight.” Julie felt herself grow warm beneath his hot gaze as she rose stiffly and made her exit after a hasty word to the bemused priest.

  Rod was but a step behind her when she entered the small room assigned to them. Her stomach jumped convulsively when she heard the key scrape in the rusty lock. She turned to face him. His closeness had a physical impact on her and she felt herself grow giddy and weightless. Strange, exotic fantasies began to bite into her thoughts as his dark eyes visibly undressed her.

  Rod made no effort to conceal his appraisal as his hot gaze traveled boldly from her face to her soft, rapidly rising and falling breasts, to the gentle swell of hips beneath the thin lace gown. “You’re beautiful, mi alma,” he breathed, his words uneven and heavy with passion. “Your enticing body is one of the benefits of this contrived marriage that I intend to enjoy fully.”

  Julie bristled, her eyes shooting blue flames. “And if I refuse you?” she shot back caustically. “What then?”

  “You have no choice, querida,” Rod grinned, amusement curving his sensual lips. “I told you before I won’t live as a eunuch. I expect children of this union. The sooner the better.” By now he was standing before her, close enough to feel her soft breath against his cheek.

  “You arrogant ba—” The sentence died in her throat as Rod curled one arm about her tiny waist and pulled her roughly against his tough, sinuous body. His other hand moved to the center of her back, forcing her straining breasts against his chest while he smothered her lips with demanding mastery.

  A lightning bolt seared her mouth and burned far down into her body. Strangely soft, yet violently demanding, an odd blending of fierceness and tenderness, his lips covered hers and she shuddered, silently cursing herself for succumbing to the forceful domination of his mouth. Her senses reeled as if short circuited when he parted her lips with his tongue to ravish the honey-sweet recesses within.

  As if by magic, Julie’s beautiful wedding gown lay in a lacy froth at her feet. She was aware of nothing but Rod’s fiery hot palms against her feverish flesh. Gently he eased her down onto the bed and stood back a moment savoring her perfectly formed body as he quickly shed his own constricting clothing.

  Julie, though fighting desperately to control the sensations surging through her veins, could not help but admire Rod’s broad chest and shoulders developed to an extraordinary degree. His thighs were twin columns of power and her eyes widened when they dropped to the thatch of dark curls out of which sprang his engorged manhood, purple and throbbing. She gasped, drawing his attention.

  Noticing the direction of her gaze, Rod laughed, settling himself beside her on the bed. “See what you do to me, querida,” he teased. “This marriage won’t be half so bad as I imagined.”

  His thoughtless words were like a splash of cold water in her face and Julie attempted to leave the bed, but Rod was too quick for her. “There’s no need to play the reluctant bride, Julie,” he said nastily. “Not after last night.”

  “I refuse to be your plaything, Rod!” Julie insisted hotly, repudiating the aura of his manly attraction. “Nor will I be your brood mare!”

  “You have no choice, querida. Lay back and enjoy it,” Rod countered crudely. One hand slid across her silken belly while the other fondled one small globe, its pink nipple ma
rble hard beneath his palm. Exerting her will power, Julie commanded her body to shy away from his seeking hands but the message of her senses demanded she stay.

  He moved almost lazily, playing with her body, his tongue tantalizing her nipples which had swollen to their fullest. Julie moaned with pleasure, reflexively pulling him closer as she ran her hands along the length of his back. Of its own accord, her mouth parted beneath his as he ran his tongue along her full lips and into her mouth. Suddenly his mouth left hers, searing a path down her stomach and onto her thigh. Julie stiffened, uncertain where his exploration would take him.

  “There are many ways to make love, querida,” Rod said, sensing her confusion. “I will teach you that pleasure can come from many sources.” Before she could protest, his mouth continued its relentless torture until he found the swollen bud of her womanhood, and Julie moaned aloud with an erotic pleasure she had never before experienced.

  “Rod! Please stop!” she cried, writhing beneath his passionate onslaught. “I can’t stand any more!”

  His answer was to tighten his hold around her waist to hold her close as he again nuzzled the blond triangle of curls that beckoned him with the promise of delights he could not resist. He felt the exquisite pleasure he gave her shudder through her body and wanted only to give her more. Julie felt the tension building in the pit of her stomach, radiating into her loins, exploding in a frenzy of sensations that caused her to cry out, gasping for breath. Only when she lay quiet did Rod inch upward and begin the whole process again, kissing her mouth, neck and breasts until she began to stir beneath him. His hands swept demandingly across her thighs, dipping between her legs, brushing into her moistness, manipulating her into a breathless desire that she would have thought impossible after her explosive climax only moments before. Once again the drugging sweetness wrapped around her and she was lost… lost…

  Her body surged upward to meet his, straining closer, tighter. He groaned, pulling her mouth to his. They clung together, feeling and exciting each other. His hand dropped to her knees but she needed no urging, they parted of their own accord. He began to penetrate her with strong, forceful thrusts, the tight, hot feel of her closing around him, nearly driving him to a premature finish. Taking deep, steadying breaths to control his rampaging ardor, Rod began moving, slowly at first, until she learned the rhythm, then faster, his breath rasping painfully in his chest. She cried out and felt him ride her wave with a long deep thrust.