Consuela's thin, black eyebrows rose. "Why, senora? Because I do not want Rafael to have dreams of you. He has had many women in the past but they did not bother me. I do not care how many whores he takes to his bed, but I will not have him cherishing another woman's image in his heart."
"Oh, but he doesn't!"
"Perhaps not. But I intend to make certain. I have given it much thought, and there are many things about an incident that both you and my husband wish to make light of that has lain heavily on my mind." Her eyes blazing with anger, she spat, "Never has Rafael bargained with me. Never! Yet in order to buy my silence, in order that I should not cause you scandal, he has agreed to accompany me to Spain—something he has flatly refused to do for years, despite my pleas. And I wonder—I wonder why? Do you know what I decided, you pale little thing?" Consuela gave an ugly laugh. "I decided that he wishes to protect you. You have touched a part of him that no one ever has—not even I, his wife! For that reason I cannot ignore you the way I have his other women. Because of that I must make you mean nothing more than all the others he has known."
"Oh, senora, you are wrong!" Elizabeth burst out shocked. "We only met that one night and then only briefly—I mean nothing to him, nothing. You must believe me!"
"Bah! So you would say, but I think differently. And I intend to do something about it."
Whether it was the drug making her so listless or her own inability to cope with such single-minded viciousness, Elizabeth was never certain. At any rate, with a numbing sense of inevitability, she asked dully, "Aren't you frightened of what I may do when I leave here? What my husband may do?"
Consuela smiled and somehow that was more terrifying than anything she had said or done so far. "You will say nothing—and even if you were foolish enough to do so, who would believe you? Believe that someone like I would be bothered by an insipid creature like you? Besides, I have taken precautions," she retorted complacently. "Your husband was the easiest to manage. I assumed that like most young men he is only interested in horses and gambling, and I was right—he was easily lured away to view a horse. I merely had to mention to a distant relative of mine, that I thought I had heard that Senor Ridgeway was interested in purchasing such an animal. That they would meet in the small society of New Orleans was just a matter of time. But I even helped that to occur by discovering where your husband found his amusements and seeing to it that my relative found himself there at the same time. He is a foolish young man, much like your husband," Consuela said contemptuously. "By now he will have forgotten that it was I who first mentioned Senor Ridgeway's name, and that it was I who suggested that he might find it pleasant to visit the particular coffeehouse that your husband has been frequenting."
Her conceit goaded Consuela to boast further, "As for my servant that brought the message? Piffle! He will say nothing—not if he values his skin... and those of his relatives in Spain." Consuela smiled again, a catlike smile. "You see, I have left nothing unplanned. My servants know the dangers of betraying me. As for the final member of my little plot, he is a poor, and greedy, illegitimate cousin from Spain. He knows that if he were to breathe just one word my generosity to him would cease. Besides," she added with satisfaction, "Lorenzo will enjoy doing this for me, if only to spite my husband. So you see, even if you were foolish enough to speak of this, how would you prove it? Who would believe you? You are a stranger here, a stranger stopping for a visit, while I am connected to some of the most illustrious families in New Orleans. Your friend Estella Rodriguez might believe you, but she is miles from here by now. I have thought of everything, of that you can be sure."
Repelled, her eyes wide with fascinated horror, Elizabeth got out, "What do you intend to do with me?"
"Merely see to it that Rafael arrives here in time to find you naked in Lorenzo's embrace. Of course, I have left precisely what Lorenzo does with you up to him. You may even find his lovemaking enjoyable—according to him most women do."
"You're vile!" Elizabeth spat thickly. "You won't get away with it. I'll scream and fight and Rafael will know that I am not willing."
Consuela looked at her pityingly. "You are in no condition to fight anyone, and as for screaming, I imagine Lorenzo can manage to keep you quiet long enough for Rafael to see for himself the slut you will appear. If you scream and protest afterward, it will look as if you are trying to excuse yourself."
With sickening clarity Elizabeth knew Consuela was right. She was incapable of resisting anyone at the moment; the belladonna effectively weighted her body with lead. But she could try, and clumsily she attempted to lurch to her feet. It was a futile gesture that only pointed out how very correct Consuela's reading of the situation was. Mortified and frightened, Elizabeth fell back against the cushions of the chair.
"You see?" Consuela taunted. "You are incapable of fighting anyone. Everything will go just as I planned."
Before Consuela could say more, a well-dressed young man entered the room, walking across the floor with all the grace and arrogance of a conquistador. His dark, clever face and thin, smiling mouth revealed the same hint of cruelty that had lurked in his Spanish ancestors. The black eyes surveyed Elizabeth's shrinking form, and in a heavily accented voice Lorenzo Mendoza murmured, "By the Virgin! Consuela, this I would do for you for nothing, if I did not need the money. She is lovely. Thank you for providing me with an afternoon's sport. Such fairness! I shall take great pleasure in bedding her."
Consuela's face showed her distaste for the subject, saying only, "I care little what you do with her. Just be certain when Rafael arrives here, he finds you in a compromising situation." She rose from her seat. "I must depart now; I will leave you to prepare the scene. Do not take too long, though, because as soon as I return to the house I shall start the argument with Rafael, telling him what a fool is he to believe in a pair of English eyes, and that I have proof that this gringa bitch is nothing but a common adulteress. I do not think he will waste time getting here."
"Do not worry—the only problem may be that Rafael will arrive after I have had my pleasure. She is much too lovely for me to resist for long, so don't you waste any time telling him where he can find us."
"Faugh! Your low blood is showing—you are a disgusting animal, Lorenzo," Consuela muttered.
"True, mi prima, but this is precisely why you chose me. Others might have caviled at such villainy," Lorenzo returned, the black eyes narrowing and the thin nostrils flaring in anger.
"Do not take umbrage with me, Lorenzo. We both know of your appetite for women—willing or unwilling—and we both know that you would do anything for money."
He gave a twisted smile. "You know me too well, Consuela, but even a tame rat will turn if the cheese offered is rotten. So do not comment on my actions—I do what you yourself would do if our positions were reversed. Do not play off your grand airs on me."
Consuela's face turned an ugly shade of plum, her dark eyes flashing with fury. "Very well," she snapped. "We understand each other. Now I must be off—I do not want Rafael to have left the house before I arrive." She swept out of the room, leaving Elizabeth staring with wide, frightened eyes at the slender Lorenzo.
Lorenzo pivoted to face Elizabeth, the black eyes stripping her even as she strained back against the cushions. "Ah, my pet, do not worry," he said soothingly as he approached her. "With you, I shall be gentle and you will enjoy me—I shall see to it."
"No! Please, senor, do not do this to me. Please!" Elizabeth pleaded. "Please, no. I beg of you, do not dishonor me."
A smile of anticipation curved his mouth. "I am sorry, but even if you resist me, I shall have you. You are too beautiful for me not to want." With that he reached out and swung her up into his arms.
His slenderness hid the strength of a jaguar, as Elizabeth discovered when she fought to escape. The drugging hampered her, but even so, Lorenzo still would have won the fight between them. His arms tightened with frightening pressure around her. "Be still or I shall hurt you," he muttered, as h
e carried her out of the room and toward the back of the small house.
The fear of what would happen gave Elizabeth the will and the desperation to fight with all her slender resources; her hands beat helplessly against his chest and shoulders. But the belladonna defeated her; Lorenzo's form dividing into two distinct shapes, and the giddiness she had experienced earlier attacking her once more. Her thoughts were confused and she babbled unintelligible sentences. She knew what was happening and yet it seemed like a fantasy—a nightmarish fantasy, but a fantasy nonetheless.
Ignoring her twisting body and flailing arms, and her disjointed words, Lorenzo carried Elizabeth easily to a bedchamber at the rear of the house. Unceremoniously he dumped her on the wide, mosquito-net-draped bed and ruthlessly stripped the clothes from her body. All too soon Elizabeth lay naked, sprawled like a rag doll, her mind wandering, all semblance of coherent thought having vanished. The silvery hair was spread out like a silken banner against the ruby coverlet and the ivory skin gleamed in the faint gloom of the room, as she tossed and turned feverishly on the bed.
Watching her movements, Lorenzo's body hardened with desire and hungrily his gaze skimmed over her, aroused further by the small perfectly formed breasts and their pale rose nipples, before his eyes fastened with increasing excitement upon the curly golden V between her legs. His breath caught in his throat at the beauty of her, the slender waist and gently rounded hips, and hastily he shed his clothes, all thought of Consuela's plan and Rafael's expected appearance fading from his mind.
Elizabeth was aware of being lifted from the bed and the coverlet being thrust back before she was once again placed on the bed. She could feel the softness of the satin sheets, and her cheeks brushed the lacy trim of the pillow case.
Her thoughts were no longer logical, and the events of the afternoon had faded and she was involved in a particularly exciting dream—a dream where Rafael was at her side and his hands were caressing her body and his mouth searching hers. It was much more thrilling than the stolen embrace in the cloakroom because they were both naked and all thought of her husband and Rafael's wife disappeared—there were only the two of them, Rafael and herself and there were no dividers or barriers between them.
Lorenzo was enchanted at her responses, his body on fire and hungry to lose itself in her silken warmth. Yet that very desire held him back, as he prolonged the agonizing sweetness, delaying the moment of joining. By all the saints, she was lovely, he thought again, his eyes drinking in the flushed features, the dilated eyes and soft trembling mouth, before sliding down to the small breasts, the nipples erect and begging for his mouth, the slender hips moving under his hands.
Elizabeth was lost, lost in a haze of emotions that swirled and tumbled through her brain. She wanted more than these urgent kisses and movements of his hands, she wanted with every fiber for him to make her a woman, to experience passion to the fullest—and huskily she moaned, "Please, please take me. Now, now!"
Lorenzo's body leaped with excitement at her words, and swiftly he moved to cover her, his hips fitting between her white-satin thighs. Eagerly she pushed herself up against him and then... and then... nothing!
She cried out in anguish when a rush of cool air across her body told her better than words that Rafael had left her with frightening abruptness, as if he had been torn from her, and bewilderedly she stared as Ra-f-f-No! That wasn't Rafael rising from the floor with a hate-twisted face; he was a stranger—it was Rafael who stood towering above the smaller man, his fists clenched and his features furious.
Dazedly, not understanding, she watched and listened as Lorenzo said sneeringly, "Forgive me, amigo, I did not know she was your woman. You should have told me, but even more I think you should keep better care of her. It is not often one of your women prefers me to you, and you will understand why I could not refuse her invitation."
Rafael's jaw rigid, he snarled softly, "Do not, Lorenzo, do not push me too far."
"Bah! She is only a woman—I will share her with you, if you like."
"Get out!" Rafael snapped, the gray eyes a stormy black as they bore into the naked man before him. "Get out, before I forget myself and still your venomous tongue once and for all."
Lorenzo shrugged and with nonchalant insolence began to dress. "She is very good, amigo, in bed. She especially enjoys her nipples being—," He never finished that taunting sentence; Rafael could no longer control the rage within him and lunged at him.
It was an ugly fight. There was already hatred between them and Rafael with Consuela's jeering words blazing in his brain was like a madman. He had not believed her when Consuela had shouted, "You fool! You think she is so pure and virtuous. Ha! At this moment she is at a house on the ramparts with Lorenzo. I can give you the address and you can see for yourself just what sort of puta she is. Go! Go, you will see that I am right. Lorenzo has been boasting how very easy she was to bed." He had not believed her, had not wanted to believe her. Yet some devil had driven him to come here, to make him enter the house and walk silently to the bedroom at the rear of the house, and—and he would never forget Elizabeth's "Now, now!" She was indeed the slut that Consuela claimed. He was aware of a ridiculous sense of deep betrayal and outrage. To discover that Lorenzo was the other man only added fuel to the fire, and remembering her sanctimonious words of the other night when she had seemingly sincerely refused to meet him again, his fury exploded and viciously his fists pounded and battered Lorenzo about the room.
Chairs flew and were tossed aside as they fought like the two furious men they were, a small table was smashed as Lorenzo reeled into it after suffering a steel-packed blow from Rafael's right fist. Recovering with catlike swiftness, Lorenzo leaped aside as Rafael plunged after him, and pulled a knife from amongst his clothing.
Abruptly Rafael halted, his blue-black hair falling onto his forehead, his eyes narrowing. "A knife, amigo?" he asked with deceptive quietness. "Is this, then, to be a fight to the death?"
Lorenzo laughed nervously. "I would prefer it not be, but I will not allow you to kill me with your hands, either. Allow me to leave here, Rafael. Not even for her do I wish to die."
Sickened by the affair, Rafael's shoulders slumped and he turned away, but Lorenzo lunged at him, the knife trailing a silver arch in the darkness of the shuttered room.
Elizabeth saw Lorenzo's leap and screamed, giving Rafael the second's warning that saved his life. Rafael instinctively swung away and around and half met Lorenzo's lunge. Their bodies locked together and they reeled back and forth as Rafael's hand crushed Lorenzo's fingers. Lorenzo fought back, twisting and coiling like a snake in the fangs of a wolf, trying to escape the iron hold on his wrist. The knife swayed between them, a blade of death that could end the battle for either. Once, Lorenzo was able to agonizingly bring it near Rafael's strong brown throat, but with silent deadly strength Rafael turned it away and toward Lorenzo. His gray eyes bright and relentless, Rafael forced the knife in Lorenzo's direction. For a moment longer they were locked together, before Lorenzo's strength gave out and the knife plunged into his groin.
Shrieking with pain and fear, Lorenzo fell to the floor, his hands reaching to staunch the flow of blood that spread with alarming speed. "You bastardo! You might have killed me," he whined, surveying the damage.
"You won't die of that wound; it's a pity it wasn't a few more inches to the right—then no woman would have to worry about you again," Rafael growled.
Lorenzo cursed and painfully struggled to his feet. "You will forgive me if I do not continue this conversation? I must find a doctor to treat my wound."
Contemptuously Rafael watched him stumble into his remaining clothing and limp with obvious pain from the room. There was silence after Lorenzo left, and then Rafael turned to look at Elizabeth on the bed.
She was indeed beautiful, he thought coldly with one part of his brain, taking in the tumbled, silvery fair hair cascading to her waist and the perfect breasts peeking through the strands of hair.
Beth
was half-sitting, half-lying on the bed, the violet eyes heavy from the belladonna, but to Rafael they appeared drugged with passion. Staring at the naked ivory skin, unwillingly he felt passion sweep his body—passion entwined with anger and a feeling of bitter betrayal. She was the slut Consuela had said—a slut who looked like an angel and who aroused the birth of some undefinable emotion within him, a slut who proved again that all women are liars, cheats and whores at heart.
Not aware that she did it, Elizabeth lifted her arms to him, wanting him to come to her, for it to be like it was before this terrible and confusing confrontation had occurred, and Rafael's lips thinned. Having just had one man, she now wanted another. Whore! A whore with the face and charms of an angel.
Disillusionment numbing his brain, he started to walk away from her, to leave this room before he did something he would regret. But Elizabeth called softly to him, "Don't leave me." She was a slut, he reminded himself. Why not take what she offered, why not use that lily-white body that had awakened new and strange emotions within him?
He wanted to punish her, to make certain, as he knew he would, she remembered this afternoon from all the others she had spent or would spend with various lovers. Yet when he reached out and touched her something happened between them, something he hadn't expected.
He wanted to punish her, yet inexplicably entwined with that thought was an odd tenderness he could not control. Instead of brutally taking her, the moment his hard hands reached for her and dragged her up next to him he discovered he wanted more, much more.
Compulsively his lips sought hers in a rough, plundering kiss and Elizabeth moaned in distress. Unable to help himself and unwilling to harm her, his lips gentled, and with an angry, yearning tenderness he kissed her again, his tongue inflaming Elizabeth's already aroused sensuality.
While Passion Sleeps Page 9
