Determined to resist, even if it went against her own yearnings, she spat, "Put me down, you bastard!" and landed a blow somewhere near his ear as she wiggled and fought to gain her footing:
"What language for a lady and from England at that. I am appalled by your lack of manners, English," Rafael teased.
Stopping in front of a door some distance down the wide hall from her room, he opened it and walked inside. Crossing swiftly through what must have been a sitting room, Beth getting an upside-down view of a lush ruby carpet and the legs of chairs and a desk as he went through, he pushed open a set of double doors that led to his bedchamber. With quick strides he approached a big bed with old-fashioned hangings of rich blue velvet and unceremoniously dumped Beth on it.
Grinning down at her, an odd light in his eyes, he murmured, "I've dreamed of you lying there often enough, but I find the reality far more agreeable than mere dreams."
"You'll regret this!" Beth promised recklessly, her silvery curls having come undone and tumbling in disarray around her lovely face.
Shrugging out of his chaqueta and tossing aside his white linen shirt, he said bluntly, "I doubt it. There is little if anything that I regret in my life and this certainly won't trouble me, except..." He added wickedly, "if I didn't do it."
Fighting down the rising excitement that swirled through her body, Beth looked around for escape. It was a huge, elegant room in which she found herself, a masculine room, from the dark, heavy furniture and gold silk-hung walls to the rich jeweled tones of the Brussels carpet that covered the entire floor. There were three sets of double doors: One glass pair obviously led to a balcony; another pair must lead to a connecting bedchamber; the final set the pair they had entered through. From the appointments of the room and the size, Beth guessed that these must be the rooms that the master and mistress of the house shared.
Rafael's almost naked body, his calzoneras the only piece of clothing on him, blocked escape through the sitting room, and the balcony doors would do her little good. Eyeing the distance to the third set of doors, she edged toward the side of the bed. When Rafael undid the calzoneras and started to step out of them, she leaped from the bed and raced toward what she prayed was escape.
Breathing hard, her heart thumping in her breast, she reached the doors and tugged on the crystal doorknobs—to no avail. From behind her Rafael said derisively, "They're locked, English."
She whirled about to face him, the wood cool against her back, her eyes wide and angry. He was entirely naked. Watching his arrogant approach, she wondered wildly why she had ever thought to get the better of him.
Rafael stopped in front of her and with one hand he tipped her face up. His mouth touched hers and he said against her lips, "It is such a lovely gown, I hate to ruin it—but the body it clothes is far more enticing." Before she had a chance to understand what he meant, a hand just above each breast, with a violent tug he ripped the gown right down the center, the remains falling to the floor, leaving Beth naked in front of him, the scarlet and black material a soft heap around her ankles.
For a long moment they stared at each other, then with a low groan of desire Rafael swept her up into his arms and began carrying her toward the bed once again. The touch of his arms made her tremble with desire, but unwilling to be defeated so easily, she exploded into a clawing cat.
Unaware that her struggles inflamed rather than cooled his passion, Beth twisted in the strong arms, her hands pushing and clawing against his shoulders. She hadn't wanted this to happen—she had only wanted to defy him, to make him angry, and to exert herself in some way, to prove to him that she was not the docile silly creature he thought. Yet her body was responding to the warm nearness of his, and she almost wept from the unfairness of it.
Oblivious of anything but the soft, silken, thrashing body in his arms, blindly Rafael's mouth sought hers and found it. Hungrily he kissed her, the weeks he had been denied even the sight of her making his desire more urgent, more demanding. Now that she was in his arms he went a little mad with the exquisite feeling of her naked body next to him.
Even though her body betrayed her, Beth fought against him. With increasing languor she sought to escape from his dark dominance, her hands pushing him away, her body accepting the caresses pressed upon it, her mouth allowing him the intimacy he demanded but never giving.
Rafael wasn't so lost in his own pleasure that he wasn't aware of her resistance. As she continued to hold back from him, to deny him the eager submission he wanted, he kissed her more fiercely, as if he would impart to her the same driving passion that flamed through his blood.
Once he would have taken her without compunction, caring only for his own satisfaction. But his relationship with Beth had come far since those days and, having known the joy of her surrender, the memory of their last night together vivid and dear in his mind, he hesitated. Suddenly tasting the salt of tears on his mouth, he raised his head and looked down at her.
Beth wasn't conscious that she was crying. She only knew that it was agony to have him this near, to have his mouth and hands arousing emotions she had no control over, knowing he felt nothing but contempt for her. Her body might be on fire to know the sorcery of his possession, but inside, inside she was in anguished torment.
His dark face looming above her, the gray eyes black with passion, Rafael asked, "English? Why do you weep? Have I hurt you?"
Her body was gleaming white against the deep blue of the coverlet, the fair hair like strands of spun silver splayed out across the velvet material, and with eyes that were pleading and stormy at the same time, Beth said thickly, "You hurt me every time you take me, thinking that I am a whore. Every time you touch me, thinking that I have lain with Lorenzo, that I would lay with Sebastian, you hurt me."
His face tensed, and between them she could feel his passion dying. The full mouth thinned. "What else am I to think? It isn't as if I imagined you in Lorenzo's arms, is it? That particular affair I know for a fact." Reluctantly he added, "With Sebastian I'll acquit you—he admits that the relationship between the two of you was innocuous—even if he wished otherwise. But don't ask me to deny the proof of my own eyes."
The violet eyes darkening with anger, Beth demanded, "Am I supposed to be grateful that because Sebastian says I am innocent, you believe him? No, thank you!"
Catching him by surprise, she pushed him away. He landed on his back on the bed beside her; she swiftly moved so that her body was half lying on his, her slender weight momentarily pinning him to the bed. The long, silvery hair brushing his chest and the taut breasts pushing distractingly against him, Beth asked mockingly, "What if I say Sebastian lies? Which one of us will you now believe?"
He frowned. Sebastian hadn't lied, of that he was convinced, but unable to say why he was so certain. Fencing for time and very wary, he inquired, "Did he?"
Beth moaned in frustration and her clenched fist beat on Rafael's shoulder. "Don't your own instincts tell you anything? Didn't that day you found me with Lorenzo shock you? I know we had only met, but didn't you find it strange that after refusing to meet you secretly—a short while later you find me naked in the arms of another man? Didn't you ever wonder how Consuela knew exactly where to find us?" Sobbing quietly, the tears sliding unheeded down her pale cheeks, Beth's fist beating against him in a tattoo of pain and desperation, she cried half-hysterically, "Consuela planned it, you great bloody fool! She sent me a message, and like the green girl I was, hoping to avert a scandal and set her mind at ease, I met her where she had said. She drugged me, Rafael!" Crying in earnest now, her breath coming in hiccupping little jerks, she said miserably, "It was in the tea—she paid Lorenzo to be there! Between the two of them they planned it—she—she thought you were too interested in me at the Costa soiree. She said that she wanted to make certain that you forgot about me, that I wouldn't be a threat to your marriage."
When she finished, there was no expression on his face and she looked at him with growing despair. "You don't believe
me, do you?" she asked dully, defeat washing over her like a relentless tide.
Making no move to comfort her, although he had to fight against the urge to do so, he said flatly, "It's an improbable tale, isn't it? There was nothing in our marriage to save. Consuela knew it, so I hardly see her going to the lengths that you claim she did. What would she gain from such a scheme? We had practically lived apart for years; she knew how I felt about her."
Desperately taking another tack, she pleaded earnestly, "All right, forget that part of the story for now and tell me instead what you thought when you saw me that first time at the Costa soiree. Did I look like the kind of woman to betray her husband? When we danced, what did you think?"
The words were torn from him. "I thought you were the loveliest creature I had ever seen—and you damn well know it. Why else did I follow you to the cloakroom; why else did I try to get you to meet me somewhere private?" His eyes dark,like thunderclouds, he snarled, "But you had other plans, querida, didn't you? Plans that included an assignation, but with Lorenzo."
Anger rising like a flame through her body, she snapped furiously, "The fact that you were married didn't make any difference, did it? I am to be condemned for supposedly breaking my marriage vows, while for you it doesn't hold true? What sort of hypocrite are you, Rafael?"
An arrested expression flickered in the gray eyes. "The worst kind, it appears." At Beth's look of astonishment, he half smiled. "It's true. I admit it wasn't your infidelity as much as it was that you chose Lorenzo over me—I'd never liked him, but seeing you two together made me hate him."
"But I didn't choose Lorenzo!" Beth cried, exasperated. "You just won't believe me, will you? Consuela drugged me! She paid Lorenzo to be there! And she made certain you knew where we were!" Seeing the disbelief creeping across his face, she wailed, "Manuela was there. She'll tell you the truth. Go ask her!"
His mouth curved cynically. "Of course she will—she's your maid now. I'm quite certain she would say whatever you told her to."
Beth drew in a gasp of fury. "You think I would involve my own servant in a lie?"
Rafael shrugged. "Why not? If you're lying yourself, making Manuela part of the lie is the most logical step."
"If I'm lying myself...!" Beth broke off, so infuriated she couldn't speak. The violet eyes blazing, she tried to twist away from him, but Rafael clamped his arms around her and held her prisoner next to him.
"Be still!" he commanded as Beth fought to free herself. "I've listened to you—now you listen to me!" His eyes locking on hers, he said tautly, "I only know what I saw that day—you and Lorenzo making love together. You claim Consuela drugged you and paid him to be there. I'll concede that it could have happened that way, but I find it damned difficult to believe."
Her body stiff and unyielding near his, she shot out, "Why? Because Consuela was such a paragon of virtue? Or because you think I am a whoring slut?"
Rafael bit off a curse and throwing Beth down on the bed, he reversed their positions, his hands holding her arms prisoner on either side of her head. "Neither!" he growled. "English, it is such an unlikely tale that I find it impossible to believe—especially knowing Consuela as I did. She was vicious—yes, I'll grant you that—but setting up the sort of trap you claim she did, I cannot accept. Consuela only did things if they benefited her, and I see nothing that she could have gained from doing as you say."
Defeated, Beth looked away from the gray eyes. "Never mind. It doesn't matter anymore." Her eyes swung back to his and she smiled bitterly. "I am now also a liar, it seems."
That appeared to sting him. His face darkened and the lean jawline went taut, a muscle bunching in his cheek. Roughly he admitted, "I don't know whether you are or not, I only know that when I have you in my arms, nothing else matters, not your liaison with Lorenzo, not the possibility that you lie, nothing... except this!" His mouth closed over hers, his lips warm and bruising against hers.
With a muffled moan of despair and pleasure Beth fought him, but it was no use—she lost every battle between them and tonight was no exception. Despite her anger and despair at the outcome of her confession, despite all that had gone before, she realized with stunned shock that she loved him—perhaps loved even the very traits that made it impossible for him to believe her. Loving him, even knowing he didn't believe her, she wanted him as passionately as it appeared he wanted her. The weeks he had been gone, her body had yearned for his touch, and now with him pressing against her nakedness, his hands traveling over her body with sweet torment, she couldn't deny him. She was in Rafael's arms and his hands and mouth evoked a response she couldn't control. Almost with a will of their own, her arms slipped around his strong neck, one hand caressing his dark head as it moved over her body, his mouth like a brand of desire wherever it touched. A bittersweet craving for his body curled through her until Rafael's half-savage, half-tender lovemaking ignited a need that matched his own.
He gave her no chance to think, no chance to escape him, his mouth taking hers and forcing a response from deep within her—she loved him and she could no more deny him or the wants of her own body than she could stop breathing. Having lost the battle with herself, she was generous in defeat, her mouth, her body, her very fiber reacting Rafael's sensuous assault.
At Beth's capitulation, what little control he had over himself vanished, and with a low sigh of unabashed pleasure Rafael slid between her thighs, losing himself in the welcoming satin warmth. His mouth searched hers as slowly his body moved on hers, his hands cupping her buttocks, pulling her even closer to him.
Delirious with desire, Beth accepted the warm invasion of Rafael's body, her own reveling in the feeling of him buried deep within her. When he moved gently against her with tantalizing languid thrusts, she arched to meet the rise and fall of his hips, wanting the shuddering release only he could give her.
Trembling with the force of the tangled emotions that coursed through him, Rafael endured the exciting torture of Beth's movements beneath him. Feeling his hot seed rising within him, urgently he increased the tempo of their bodies. They both sought to prolong the sweetness of their joining, yet each wanted the pleasure that heralded complete fulfillment. Feeling the throbbing jump of her body and hearing the soft moan of pleasure she couldn't control, his own body reacted, and with an animal-like growl, he too experienced the pleasure that rippled through her body.
Chapter 25
The room was silent except for their labored breathing, and as their bodies gradually returned to normal, even that ceased to be heard. Rafael did not immediately withdraw. His body still pressing against hers, he propped himself up on one elbow and, with something that could have been tenderness, he stared down at Beth's flushed features.
Embarrassed, even after all they had shared together, Beth looked away from his steady gaze, wondering bleakly how she could love him and yet hate him at the same time. Having gotten over the first shock of acknowledging her love for him, she accepted it as she had so many things in her life. Unlike other events, this one she treasured despite the pain she knew it would bring. For whatever reasons, no matter how mad and insane it might be, she loved Rafael Santana!
I always have, she thought with a start, ever since I saw him at the Costa ball. No, that isn't true, the more practical side of her nature countered—been attracted to, dreamed about, and hungered after, but not loved... not until now.
The touch of Rafael's fingers on her chin startled her and, wide-eyed, her gaze swung to his dark face. A crooked smile curved his mouth and he murmured, "Come back. You had gone far away from me."
Unable to help herself, she asked bitterly, "How can you say so, when your body holds mine prisoner?"
His eyes hardened, but he said quietly, "Yes, I have your body, but I want more. You were very far away from me—what were you thinking of?"
"The Costa ball and the first time we saw each other."
"It started there, didn't it," he stated rather than questioned. "This thing between us, this
thing that neither of us wanted or wants, and yet it exists and has since that moment."
Astonished that he would admit such a thing, Beth stared up at him open-mouthed. In a small uncertain voice she asked, "You feel it too?"
His face taking on a sardonic expression, he shifted his body so that he lay next to her. "Why not? If I didn't feel something for you I wouldn't have reacted the way I did when I found you with Lorenzo, nor would I have been so furious and delighted when I saw you again at Cielo."
It was as much as he was willing to admit, but his words gave Beth a shivery feeling of anticipation. She swallowed and her heart beating with thick painful strokes, she got out, "And what do we do about it?"
His fingers tightening on her chin and his eyes on her mouth, he admitted softly, "I don't know. Shall we just take each day as it comes and see what happens?"
"I-I-I don't know," Beth answered. A troubled expression on her face, she added, "I wouldn't like being your mistress. Don't you think it is futile for us to continue as we are—you thinking me a liar and an adulteress and me—" Beth stopped, realizing how very nearly she had come to confessing that she loved him.
"And you what?" Rafael questioned, the gray eyes now looking at her with a considering glint deep in their depths.
Beth bit her lip and glanced away. "Nothing." Against her will she blurted out, "I should go back to Natchez."
Mention of her departure from his life staggered him, and with eyes gone suddenly dark with some undefinable emotion, as if the words were torn from him, he said in a low voice, "Stay, English. Stay and let us pretend that the past never existed and that we have only the future to look forward to." His eyes left her face and, gazing on a point far away, he added, "I won't force you to come to me, at least," he admitted, "not right away. But give us time to find out what this thing is that exists between us, and give me time to reconcile what you have told me with what I have seen and heard."
While Passion Sleeps Page 37
