While Passion Sleeps

by Shirlee Busbee

  Beth took a deep breath, wanting to give him the time that he asked for and yet terrified that the longer they were together the more deeply in love with him she would fall. The more likely it was that he would find out that she had been foolish enough to fall in love with him.

  Seeing the indecision in her face, he pulled her to him and kissed her tenderly, hungrily and Beth, unable to help herself, melted into him. "Stay," he murmured against her mouth. "Stay and let the future take care of itself. Will you?"

  Beth nodded, incapable of denying him. He kissed her again, a kiss that was meant to be light and gentle but that flared into passion, and together they were swept up in the world of physical desire.

  It was very late, not many hours before dawn, when Rafael dressed and wrapping Beth in a robe of his, carried her down the darkened hallway to her own room. Setting her down at the doorway, he kissed her again and said, "I'll try not to compromise you further until we come to some decision. Tonight will have to last me... for a while."

  Exhausted from his lovemaking and her own turbulent feelings, she entered her room and sank down on her bed. Sleep came quickly, and tonight for the first time in months she slept soundlessly, no dreams, no guilt, no nightmares haunting her.

  For Rafael there was no sleep. Lying in the emptiness of his bed, longing for the warmth of Beth's small shape next to him, he stared blindly into space. He had taken the first steps down the road to a commitment he still fought against. Yet when it would have been so simple to deny the attraction that existed between them he had admitted it. Worse, he wondered if perhaps she hadn't told the truth about what had happened that afternoon in New Orleans. If she had told the truth... With a curse he sat up in bed and flicking the light covering aside, he left the bed and prowled about the room naked as the day he was born.

  Standing at the glass doors that led out onto the small balcony, he gazed at the vivid rays of daylight streaking across the horizon. A cold man, not so much by nature as due to the events that had formed him, he found it inconceivable that one woman could smash down all the barriers he had erected to protect himself against pain and disillusionment. With those crumbling with every passing hour, he felt as vulnerable as a foolish love-stricken youth of sixteen. With others he would always be cool and aloof, but with English he was helpless, wanting her, needing her... loving her?

  He balked at that. No. I will not love her, his mind dictated, but his heart rebelled, wanting to let the sweetness and warmth that Beth represented flood through his body and drive out the iciness that was with him always.

  The battle raged unceasingly within him—had she told the truth or hadn't she? Did it matter? Would she betray him in the future? Had there been other lovers? Did it matter?

  Confused, his emotions battered raw by the battle raging within him, he finally sought his bed, nothing clear in his mind except that he wanted Beth to stay. Let time show him the way... and the truth.

  As the days passed Beth wondered if he had decided to believe her. His actions toward her were quite different. If she had been older or wiser, or if she had been allowed to have her season in London instead of being rushed into marriage with the first eligible young man who appeared on the scene, she would have realized that she was being courted.

  It was there in everything that Rafael did, whether either of them realized it or not, from the agreeable excursions he planned for her enjoyment to the small and thoughtful gifts that were so often and unexpectedly dropped in her lap—an expensive bar of delicately perfumed soap, a beautifully shaped and carved comb for her hair, a box of sweetmeats, a pair of gloves.

  Except for the odd fact that she was living in his house with only his distant cousin for chaperon, Rafael did everything that a courting man would do, his manner to her unfailingly polite and courteous. Not once did he put her in an embarrassing situation or take undue liberties. He couldn't control his eyes though, and she would see the hungry desire that burned in their gray depths and her heart would race.

  That he denied himself made her love him even more, for so easily he could have forced her, so easily he could have discreetly continued to visit her rooms, or have made private assignations where she would have been unable to refuse. But he didn't, although the desire to do so was apparent in his eyes and the way his glance lingered on her mouth or soft shoulders.

  For Beth it was one of the happiest times of her life. The man she loved was near and attentive and the future began to look very bright indeed. The thought of returning to Natchez receded and she began to hope that Rafael might be thinking of marriage.

  She and Rafael had been cautious with one another, each treading carefully, each not wanting to be the one to destroy the growing relationship between them. As the days had gone by, sunny, warm, and beautiful, so had their association ripened, their conversation became more easy, their knowledge of the other growing and widening.

  Rafael was for the first and only time in his life enthralled by a woman. The bitter edge heard so often in his voice was missing, and he found that there were other ways to enjoy a woman—the pleasure of seeing Beth's enchanting smile flit across her face, or the way her eyes glistened with delight when he did something that pleased her, the sound of her laughter or the way she walked, all added to his enslavement. Yet he hesitated to make that final commitment, frightened that the English who smiled at him so captivatingly and who filled his heart with delight was a mirage, that one day she would betray him. He refused to think of that afternoon in New Orleans, wanting to believe Beth and willing to submerge the cynic in him who disbelieved anything a woman said. It wasn't an easy task for him to put aside years of distrust and contempt for the female sex, but as the weeks passed, almost imperceptibly he did, Beth's warm and gentle influence softening and mellowing the hardness, the indifference that was so much a part of him.

  The taming of Renegade Santana was watched with awe by half of San Antonio, and by the middle of June everyone was expecting the announcement of their marriage. The side of him the population had seen these past weeks had caused more than one to revise their opinion of him and to remember that the name "Renegade" had been given to him in his wild youth. Certainly he seemed a changed man—still an unpredictable, dangerous man to be sure, still that aura of coolness and savagery about him, but changed, less forbidding, more approachable.

  Old Abel Hawkins's house in San Antonio rang with the laughter of guests these days, as the Mavericks, Juan Seguin, a Mexican aristocrat who had sided with the Texans in their war for independence, and his family, Jose Antonio Navarro, another Mexican who had done the same, as well as the slim, steely-eyed Jack Hays and other prominent members of San Antonio came to call and visit. There were meals held al fresco on the spacious grounds at the rear of the house and riding parties to fill the days, the ladies taking Beth to their hearts, the gentlemen finding Rafael a man with a great deal of charisma when he chose to display it.

  Beth bloomed like a rosebud opening to the warm sunlight. Slanting her an appreciative glance as they returned one day from an early morning ride, Rafael decided he had never seen her in such looks. The violet eyes sparkled with pleasure, the alabaster skin glowed with vitality; even her slender shape seemed to have blossomed, her breasts seeming fuller, her hips more alluringly rounded in the slim-fitting riding habit she wore. His eyes stopped their interested appraisal as he felt himself harden with desire and, looking at her lovely face to keep his mind off the body that haunted his nights, he noticed a frown marring her forehead, a frown he had noticed more than once the past three days or so. Frowning himself, he asked, "Is anything wrong? Is the heat too much for you?"

  Beth sent him a strained smile. "No. It is just that I am not feeling well this morning and I probably should have remained in bed instead of coming on this ride."

  Senora Lopez, who was still acting as chaperon, examined Beth with concern. "You are not sickening with another attack of the fever, are you?" she asked worriedly.

  "No, I'm certain o
f that. It must be an upset stomach from all those spicy dishes I have been eating lately," Beth replied. Eager to change the subject, she said quickly, "Oh, look at those lovely pink flowers over there on the hill! What are they?"

  Diverted, Senora Lopez looked in the direction of Beth's pointing finger. "Those clumps there? That's mountain pink, they're quite common in this area."

  The conversation went on from there, and for the rest of the day Beth was careful to keep her expression carefree and to act as if she hadn't a worry in the world. It was all a clever performance, because she did have a worry.

  Alone in her room that night, she sat on the bed biting her lower lip and tried to remember the exact date of something that shouldn't have slipped her mind. Not since Nathan's death, in March, she thought with a queer little flutter in the region of her heart. She'd had too much to concern her these past months to keep track of such a simple natural thing as her body's womanly functions, but now, thinking of the queasiness that had attacked her the last five mornings in a row, she was forced to think about it. Not since March, she thought again, torn between a rising thrill of excitement and sheer terror.

  Slipping from her bed and lighting a small whale-oil lamp, she walked over to stand in front of the cheval glass mirror. With trembling hands she lifted the fine lawn nightgown she wore and, laying it aside with wondering eyes, she examined her body. Her breasts were fuller, and she had noticed already that some of her gowns were too tight in the waist. There were no other outward signs to prove or disprove her growing suspicions, her stomach as flat as ever... but weren't her hips just the tiniest bit wider, as if already they were accommodating the growth of...

  Unable to complete the thought, with shaking fingers she slipped her gown back on, put out the light, and scrambled back in bed. She was just being foolish! Just because April, May, and part of June had passed without—She cut her mind away to something else, fighting the obvious conclusion and yet aware of a warm feeling of wonder.

  The next morning she was embarrassingly and thoroughly ill and could not deny the evidence of her own eyes and mind. She was going to have Rafael's child.

  With a mixture of joy and horror, like someone in a daze, Beth allowed Manuela to dress her. The thought of having a child of her own was a rapturous one until reality intruded and shattered her growing exhilaration and pleasure.

  What in Heaven's name was she to do? Tell Rafael? Nervously pacing her room that afternoon, she decided the answer to that question was no, and for two very good reasons. They had come so far these past weeks in their relationship with one another that she wanted nothing to disrupt it. No matter what eventually happened, she was determined the outcome would be based on their feelings for one another, not the advent of a child. If she told him and he offered marriage, she would never be certain whether it was because of the child or because he fallen in love with her. There would always be a nagging doubt about his motivations. And if she told him and he didn't offer marriage...

  The disgrace and social disapproval she would face never gave Beth a qualm. All her worries and fears centered around the father of her unborn child. What would he think? And God in Heaven, when or how was she to tell him?

  It was a tension-fraught day for Beth. At least a half a dozen times she almost threw caution to the winds and requested a word alone with Rafael and told him. But, wanting desperately to be loved and married for herself alone, if he offered marriage, she held back. I'll wait another week, she decided anxiously as she lay in bed that night. Then if nothing is changed between us I'll... what? Tell him and take my chances or slink away like a beaten dog to lick my wounds? She found no answer in her fevered twisting and the next morning there were purple smudges under the violet eyes and a shadow in their depths.

  Despite the signs of a restless night showing in her eyes, Beth looked lovely when she entered the dining room wearing a becoming gown of black dimity with bell sleeves. Staring at her as she greeted Senora Lopez and turned to smile good morning to him, Rafael felt his pulse leap and his entire body respond just to the sight of her. It was such exquisite torture to have her so near, to have her smiling and laughing with him, to have learned so much about her and yet be denied the one thing that was missing from their relationship. A platonic man I am not, he thought sardonically as his eyes caressed her lips and breasts, and he knew that no matter what he had promised he wasn't going to be able to keep his hands off her much longer.

  As a matter of fact, not more than several hours longer, as it turned out. He hadn't deliberately planned it, but it happened that he and Beth were alone that evening as they walked in the moonlight near the creek at the rear of the house, Senora Lopez busy with her needlework in the front salon.

  Rafael had noticed the air of strain about Beth and, remembering the frowns of the past few days as they walked in the silver light of the moon, the creek gurgling pleasantly near their feet, he asked abruptly, "Are you happy here, English?"

  Beth looked up at him in surprise, her thoughts on their unborn child and the knowledge that she must tell him sooner or later. Honesty compelled her to answer, "I am not unhappy here, but—" Her eyes darkening with pain, she finished, "I have to admit that San Antonio will always hold unpleasant memories for me. Nor can I forget that my... that Nathan was killed here."

  Rafael smothered a curse. Nathan was one subject they avoided, partly because Beth could not bring herself to explain her odd marriage and partly because Rafael couldn't control the fierce jealousy that surged through his body whenever he thought of the years that Nathan had known her sweetness and the many nights of tender passion the other man must have experienced in her arms. But her answer disturbed him and frowning he inquired, "Don't you like the Republic?"

  "Some of it. Especially the pine forests. When we traveled through them I thought they were so cool and inviting."

  Her answer pleased him and, an odd glitter in the smoky-gray eyes, he asked, "Could you make your home there?"

  It was for Rafael, thin ice, and if Beth hadn't been so distracted by the certainty that she was carrying his child, she might have realized it and pressed her advantage; but as it was, the significance of his question passed her by. "Oh, I suppose so. Anywhere can be home if one wants it to be."

  They stopped their perambulations near a tangled mass of greenery that hid them from the house, and both stood staring silently for some seconds at the silver sparkle of the water in the moonlight. Each was lost in thought, each vacillating on the edge of decision, and almost simultaneously they both turned to the other, intending to speak.

  Taking her courage in both hands Beth looked up at the dark lean face above hers, the moonlight hiding the expression in the gray eyes. "Rafael... I'm—" She stopped, unable to make such an announcement without any warning. Swallowing with difficulty, she sought for a beginning that would allow her to lead up to the subject of the baby gradually, something that would give him an inkling of what was coming.

  She was very beautiful in the moonlight, her eyes purple and mysterious, the fair hair picking up the rays of moonlight that spilled over them and the words that he had been going to speak died in his throat. His eyes locked on the soft mouth just below his, not thinking, he pulled her into his arms and his mouth found hers.

  It had been madness to kiss her, and he knew it the moment his lips touched hers, for the passion that had been so fiercely suppressed these past weeks exploded through his body and he was blind to anything but the soft, yielding shape in his arms. His arms tightened around her, crushing her breasts against his chest and forcing her hips hard against him as his mouth explored hers.

  Beth gave herself gladly to his embrace, relishing the pleasure of having his arms crush her to him, the ache of desire that swirled through her body as his mouth continued its hungry assault. His lips moved from her mouth to her eyes to her mouth again and then dropped lower to teasingly kiss the tops of her breasts.

  If Rafael had longed to have her in his arms again, so had she
longed to be there, wanting again to know the sweet torment of his possession, again to feel that hard body take hers and give her again the wild release that only he could. He had taught her body the joy of passion, and she as much as he had yearned for the exciting kisses and the urgent joining of their bodies.

  Her arms clasped around his strong neck, her body arching up against him as they strained nearer to one another, desire flicking through their veins, each as lost to their surroundings as the other. Even when his searching hand freed one breast and caressed it, Beth was blind to everything but his mouth on hers and that his body was pressed sensuously next to hers. Through their clothing she could feel him hard and throbbing with desire, and with something like frustration she unconsciously curved her body even closer, driving Rafael nearly insane with the need to lose himself in her silken flesh.

  Senora Lopez's voice calling them from the house was like a dash of icy water, and Rafael was uncertain whether to thank the woman or strangle her on the spot.

  Lifting his mouth from Beth's, he shouted back, "We'll be right there. Senora Ridgeway was just admiring the creek in the moonlight."

  Feeling she had done her duty, Senora Lopez turned away and with a smile, went back to her needlework. Ah, to be young and in love.

  Rafael straightened Beth's dress, his fingers lingering on the soft breast as he pulled the gown over it. Glancing down at her flushed features, he said thickly, "It's just as well she called, because if she hadn't, in another minute I would have tumbled you on the ground and proven to myself that I am not the eunuch I have played these last weeks."

  Her body still on fire for his, Beth nodded weakly, wishing rather shamefully that Senora Lopez had waited several minutes longer before interrupting them. Sighing as much for the lost opportunity to tell him of the child as for the abrupt and unsatisfactory end to their lovemaking, Beth walked with him to the house.

  Several of the men from Enchantress, along with a report from Renaldo, arrived the next morning just as they were finishing the morning meal. Rafael excused himself, explaining that he would be busy for the entire day—could the ladies amuse themselves? Beth welcomed the respite, glad of the unexpected chance to have several hours to herself in which to collect her jumbled thoughts.