Dona Madelina had greeted her with open affection when she had been deposited none too gently in the inner courtyard only minutes before, and Beth, in spite of her resentment and anger, could not bring herself to act coldly toward the warmth and kindness that radiated from Dona Madelina. Dona Madelina had clucked and scolded when she had seen Beth's heat-flushed face and had seen that she was shown to the room she now occupied to rest and recover from the unplanned journey.
It appeared, Beth decided slowly, that while Don Miguel and Dona Madelina might disagree with Don Felipe's handling of the situation, neither of them had any objections to the eventual outcome. It was clear that the Santana family had determined that she and Rafael should marry and, at least, in Don Felipe's case they would allow nothing to interfere.
Thankful that no one except herself knew of the child she carried, Beth washed her face and hands in a bowl of cool water. Shaking out the dust from her black muslin gown and straightening her hair in the gilt-edged mirror above a mahogany lowboy, she considered her situation. Demanding to be taken back to San Antonio was out of the question. Planning an escape was also foolish—she knew no one to bribe for a horse and she wasn't enthralled with the idea of making her way alone through a countryside known to have suffered recently from raiding Comanches. So, for the present, she would have to make the best of things.
An opportunity to make her displeasure and position evident came immediately. There was a tap on the door, and when the Mexican woman answered it, it was to receive a message that Don Felipe demanded Beth's presence in the library. Beth's hands formed into fists and, fighting back the urge to reply that Don Felipe could go to hell, she followed the white-garbed male servant down the arched walkway to the room he indicated.
Entering it, she found Don Felipe pouring a glass of wine from a crystal decanter; looking over his shoulder at her, he asked, "Would you care for a glass of sherry? I had a bottle brought up from the cellar for you."
Beth stood stiffly in the center of the room, one part of her noting the leather-bound books that lined the walls and the Moroccan leather couch and walnut sideboy where a tray of refreshments had been set out. Meeting Don Felipe's black-eyed look, she said levelly, "No, thank you. I do not take refreshments with my jailer."
He smiled, but the expression in the black eyes didn't change. Seen off his horse, Beth discovered that he wasn't a tall man, actually not more than three inches taller than she was, but for all his slender height he exuded pride and power in great abundance. He had changed his clothes, but these he wore now were as richly embellished as his earlier ones, the gold velvet chaqueta lavishly embroidered with sparkling metallic black thread and the black calzoneras trimmed with gold braid. He was an arresting figure of a man even for his age, which Beth guessed to be somewhere in his seventies, despite the head of surprisingly black hair that held no thread of gray. Regarding her over the rim of his glass, he said commented, "Spirit in a woman is to be admired, but belligerence is something that I abhor. I hope, senora, you will not make the mistake of overstepping that narrow line."
It was a not so thinly veiled threat, and Beth reacted to it. Not bothering to hide her contempt and dislike, she snapped, "It is a long time, senor, since I left my governess and the rules of the schoolroom behind me. I do not intend to be either intimidated or dictated to by you. I trust you understand me?"
He nodded, the black eyes hooded. Looking at Beth as she stood before him, he wondered at the fairness of the bright hair and considered the possibility that if she proved too intractable perhaps he would take her to Mexico City as his mistress. At seventy-four he still desired women, and when he tired of her, with that fair skin and ash-blond hair he would have no trouble selling her—and for a great price. But then he dismissed the idea—it was more important that his grandson marry and breed heirs for Cielo than to satisfy a momentary hunger of the flesh. Don Felipe always kept his priorities in order.
Meeting Beth's angry gaze, he murmured, "Very well, we understand each other. As you appear to be a forthright young woman, I shall waste little time in polite words." He waved an arm in the direction of the couch. "Would you care to sit down while we discuss the situation?"
"No," Beth bit out, her eyes flashing, angry color burning in each cheek.
"Then if you don't mind, I shall do so," he replied and sat down. His eyes traveled over her once again, appreciating the high, full bosom and slender hips hinted at under the full skirts of her gown. Taking a sip of his sherry, he began "What we have here is a very simple situation. You are a young and very beautiful widow of wealth and breeding. I have a handsome and virile grandson whom I would like very much to see married and fathering children... particularly male children. It is very simple, si? You marry my grandson and your widowhood is at an end—no longer will you be alone without a man to guide and protect you. I will be happy because at last my only male heir is married and will, in due time, present me with great-grandsons."
Beth was torn between an outrageous urge to laugh at his effrontery and a burst of fury. How dare he think to arrange her life this way!
Hands on her hips, the captivating face vibrant with barely controlled anger, Beth snapped, "I have no desire to enter into such a cold-blooded arrangement. My first marriage was arranged for me, and if I ever remarry, it will be for love—not for expediency's sake."
Don Felipe shrugged. "How very noble... but childish. After you have given me a great-grandson, it would make little difference if you had lovers. Surely marriage with my grandson cannot be that distasteful to you. After all, you have spent many weeks in his household and have not found his company too burdensome."
"Why me?" Beth asked in a hard voice. "If it is so important for Rafael to marry, why not present him with a suitable bride of your choice?"
Negligently setting aside his glass, Don Felipe pulled at his lip. "I had contemplated such a scheme," he admitted. "But wealthy young brides are not easily found, and his reputation is such that doting fathers are reluctant to give their daughters in marriage to a man with his past. Besides, it is true that I could force him into a marriage again, but if he did not desire the woman, it would do me little good. You understand me? Without a consummated marriage I would gain no heirs for Cielo, and from what my son has told me, Rafael does apparently have some feeling for you, si?"
Beth choked back a hysterical giggle, wondering what this arrogant old man would do if he knew that even now she carried Rafael's child. Chilled by his words, but curious too, she asked helplessly, "Even if I agreed to such a cold-blooded arrangement, tell me, what could you do to make Rafael agree?"
Don Felipe smiled and Beth shivered. Rising from his seat he walked over to a velvet bellrope and gave it a sharp pull. Instantly, as if the servant had been waiting outside the door, there was a knock and Don Felipe called, "Entre."
To the servant who appeared in the doorway he said, "Bring the Senorita Arabela to us."
Alone again, he looked at Beth and remarked, "Arabela is the baby of the family. I had taken her to Mexico City with me, but she proved most troublesome, so when I received Miguel's letter I brought her back with me." Picking up his glass again, he took another sip and continued, "You will find her a delightful child, and by some strange chemistry, of all his half sisters, she is the only one that Rafael has ever shown any affection for. But wait until you see her, you will see what I mean."
Beth did. Not five minutes later, the door burst open and a young girl of not more than fifteen danced into the room. Arabela was indeed delightful, if a shock. Used to the darkness so common amongst the Mexicans and Spaniards, Beth was astonished by the flaming red of Arabela's hair and the brilliance of the sapphire-blue eyes.
Don Felipe noticed Beth's expression and said lightly, "A red-haired Spaniard is unusual but not unheard of."
Arabela paid no attention to her grandfather, and instead ran up with fleet graceful steps to Beth. "Oh, how lovely you are! Madre said you were, but I didn't believe her," she exc
laimed with open candor, the blue eyes bright with warmth and laughter as they twinkled merrily up at Beth. Dressed in a simple gown of white muslin with small puffed sleeves and a gaily embroidered hem, Arabela herself was enchanting.
At fifteen there were already the signs of the beautiful woman she would be one day. The fiery hair was arranged in two demure little clusters near each ear with a few rebellious curls escaping at her temples; her lashes and brows were dark and the sapphire-blue eyes had an enchanting tilt at the corners; her mouth was full and sweetly curved. She was small for her age, but already her little breasts and slender waist were apparent.
Unable to help herself, Beth responded immediately to Arabela's gay charm. "Why, thank you," she replied. "You are very pretty too."
Arabela gave an infectious gurgle of laughter. "Now I know I shall like you!" Impetuously, she caught Beth by surprise and hugged her. "I am so glad that Rafael is going to marry you! Consuela was a witch, and I did not like her at all! She was wicked to him, but you would be kind to him."
Beth stiffened and Arabela looked at her with puzzlement. Before she could say more, though, Don Felipe scolded, "Your manners are deplorable, Arabela! Surely your mother taught you better."
Some of the gaiety died out of the little animated face and, turning to her grandfather, she gave a stilted curtsy and in a colorless voice murmured, "Forgive me, Grandfather. I forgot myself." It was an astonishing change from the vital creature of a second ago, but Beth was pleased to note the imp of defiance that peeked from the blue eyes. Arabela was not quite in awe of her grandfather as everyone else.
In the same colorless little voice Arabela asked, "Was there something you wanted, Grandfather?"
"I merely wished Senora Beth to meet you, and now that she has, you may leave. And possibly learn some manners before I see you the next."
Don Felipe turned away, and only Beth saw the quick, impudent tongue that Arabela stuck out and the encouraging wink she gave before she skipped out of the room.
Her own voice devoid of any emotion, Beth said, "A charming child. But what does she have to do with our conversation?"
Don Felipe walked over to the sideboard and poured himself another glass of sherry. "Everything, cara, everything." His glass refilled, he walked toward Beth. Taking a sip of the sherry, he smiled. "You see, Arabela is the one vulnerable spot in Rafael's armor. He would do anything to see her happy. It is really simple, as I told you earlier. Either Rafael marries you, or I shall see to it that Arabela is married off to the oldest, ugliest old rakehell that I can find." The black eyes full of malicious satisfaction, he asked, "Do you think he would allow that—especially when all he has to do to save her is marry a woman he already finds attractive?"
Beth blanched. No, Rafael wouldn't allow that. No one would. Arabela was too bright, too gay to suffer such a fate. "You're foul!—a black, ugly beast with no heart!"
Don Felipe shrugged. "Perhaps. Names matter little to me. It is winning that matters. And I think, at last, I have won."
"Not quite! You may be able to coerce your grandson, but tell me, how do you intend to insure I agree to marry him?"
"Oh, that! Piffle! I don't have to do a thing," he replied smugly. "Rafael will do it, you see. Do you think he would let your refusal stand in his way if it meant Arabela's marriage to a doddering old roue?" Don Felipe laughed.
Sickened, Beth didn't remember walking back to her room. Everything Don Felipe said was true, and her heart felt heavy in her breast. Rafael could be as ruthless as his grandfather, of that she was certain, and if Don Felipe gave him the choice of marriage to herself or seeing Arabela married off to a disgusting old man, Beth knew what his choice would be. And me, what about me? her heart cried. Could I bear being married to him knowing that he had been compelled to say his vows?
Somehow she got through the evening that followed, smiling politely and giving the correct responses to any conversation that directed her way. Watching Arabela's lively countenance and hearing her tinkling laughter, her spirits sank even lower. Could she allow that enchanting little creature to be married off so cruelly? More importantly, how was Rafael going to react to this state of affairs?
Rafael was furious. Arriving home, eager to see Beth after a long, busy day away from her, with growing rage he listened in tight-lipped silence to Paco's nervous recital of the facts. Even the news that a servant had been sent to find him, but always seemed to be one step behind him, did nothing to lighten the darkening fury on Rafael's face.
"I see," he said at last in a frightening, quiet voice. "And Senora Lopez, she has gone too? And the maid, Manuela?"
"Si. No," Paco muttered, not liking the set of his master's jaw nor the expression in the gray eyes. "Senora Lopez left in the coach your grandfather sent, but the woman Manuela is still here. She had not finished packing Senora Beth's things, and it was decided that she would ride out with you in the morning."
Manuela's not being ready to leave when the coach arrived had been deliberate. She had moved with irritating slowness in the packing of Beth's clothing, and finally in exasperation Senora Lopez had suggested that Manuela accompany Rafael in the morning, as there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he would be riding fast and furiously to the hacienda where Beth was. Smiling to herself, Manuela agreed. Knowing Senor Rafael, somehow she didn't think that Senora Beth would remain long under his grandfather's roof.
Rafael took the stairs two at a time and a moment later burst into the room Beth had occupied, startling Manuela who was halfheartedly pretending she was still packing Beth's remaining clothes. Rafael took one look at the trunk and snarled, "Put those things back! Senora Beth will be returning."
A small smile curving her lips, Manuela watched him slam from the room and cheerfully began unpacking the clothes. Unless she was very much mistaken, Senora Beth would sleep tomorrow night in this bed... and possibly not alone either.
Leaving the room, Rafael was halfway down the stairs when Paco answered a knock on the front door and opened it to admit a travel-stained Sebastian. Rafael stopped his rapid descent and demanded ungraciously, "What the hell brings you here?"
Sebastian grimaced. "Certainly not your charming company." Aware that now was not the time to start an argument with his cousin, he added in a more normal tone, "I just learned yesterday morning that your grandfather had been at Cielo, and I rode in as fast as I could to warn you that he will be paying you a call—soon."
Rafael pulled a face and came slowly down the remainder of the stairs. "I thank you for the news and I'm sorry for my greeting. Unfortunately, for all your haste you are several hours too late—he was here this morning and took Beth with him." His lips quirked. "Apparently he didn't feel Senora Lopez was an adequate chaperon."
Despite the gravity of the situation, Sebastian grinned. "Was she?"
Rafael's lips twitched and, remembering the night of the harlot's gown, he said softly, "No, indeed not." But then, frowning, he said, "I was just on my way out to the hacienda where the family is staying. I must see Beth alone before my grandfather fills her head with preposterous ideas."
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Sebastian demanded with a quick smile.
Chapter 27
It took only a few minutes to saddle Diablo and procure a fresh horse for Sebastian. In silence the two men rode out into the night, Rafael too busy with his own thoughts to make conversation, and Sebastian, after the hard two-day ride into San Antonio, too tired.
Rafael had sensed that Beth was no longer in the house the instant he had stepped into the main hallway. There had been a sudden feeling of loss, an emptiness that had assailed him, and he had known that something was terribly wrong even before Paco had begun his explanation.
To know that she was gone, to know that through his own indecision he may have lost her, terrified and enraged him. He knew his grandfather too well, knew the man's ruthless, heavy-handed way of gaining his own ends, and Rafael very much feared that when he did finally see Beth she would no l
onger be the sweet, yielding creature of these past weeks. No, once his grandfather started arranging things, Beth was far more likely to greet him with anger and hostility than with open arms and honeyed kisses. It would take him months to undo the damage, months he didn't want to waste.
It didn't take much intelligence on Rafael's part to guess what had been his grandfather's motive, or to guess how Don Felipe had learned of Beth in the first place. As if he had been an unseen observer, he guessed what his grandfather was up to and the coldblooded, arrogant way he would go about it. What he didn't know was what threat his grandfather would use against Beth or precisely how he hoped to bring about the marriage. He did know that Beth would be furious, and he didn't he blame her.
Rafael broke the silence when he and Sebastian were about a half a mile from their destination. The lights of the hacienda could be seen clearly. Pulling up his horse, Rafael said, "I'm not going in with you. I want you to arrive just as if you've come to join the family. You will, of course, inform my grandfather that you have spoken to me, and that I have more or less told you and him to go to the devil."
Sebastian looked surprised. "If you're not going in with me, what are you going to be doing?"
Rafael smiled, his teeth flashing in the darkness. "Seeing Beth, what else?"
"How?"
"Under the cover of your arrival, I'll slip into the hacienda. It shouldn't take me long to find which of the rooms Beth has been put in." Leaning forward in the saddle, he added, "If by chance she is still with the others, find a way to let her know I'll be waiting in her room."
Sebastian made a face. "You make it sound so easy. As if Don Felipe won't be the least bit suspicious."
"Probably he will be. But while he will suspect your motives, he won't guess what I'm up to, and that's all that matters." Earnestly, Rafael continued, "Sebastian, I have to see Beth alone." He added grimly, "And before I have any conversation with my grandfather."
While Passion Sleeps Page 40
