While Passion Sleeps

by Shirlee Busbee

  "Very well. Do I see you again tonight?"

  "Yes, I think we had better meet before I return to San Antonio. It's late enough now, so your request to retire for the night shouldn't be a surprise. A half an hour after you've been shown to your room, go to the stables. I'll meet you there."

  Beth was still with the others. She greeted Sebastian courteously, but coolly, for she hadn't forgotten how they had last parted. But finally his odd grimaces, raised eyebrows, rolling eyes, and weird twitches whenever no one was looking at them convinced Beth that he was trying to tell her something, and with a heart pounding like a war drum in her breast, she managed for them to be alone for a moment.

  Out of the corner of his mouth Sebastian muttered, "Go to your room—Rafael is there."

  Hoping her face didn't betray her, she smiled charmingly at Sebastian. A few minutes later she excused herself for the night. The blood singing in her veins, she hurried to her room.

  She barely shut the door before Rafael's dark shape emerged from the shadows, and a moment later she was locked in his arms. They kissed hungrily, joyously, each one for the moment content merely to have the other near. But then sanity prevailed and they slowly separated.

  "Are you unharmed?" Rafael asked harshly, intent upon destroying the hacienda and everyone in it if one hair on her head had been touched.

  Beth shook her head. "Yes. A little frightened at first, perhaps, and very angry."

  There was a tap on the door and with wide, scared eyes Beth motioned Rafael away from her. Running to the door, she opened it and nearly sagged with relief when she discovered the Mexican woman who had been acting as her maid standing there. The woman had come to help Beth undress, but hurriedly Beth told her that there was no need, and she could retire for the night.

  Alone again, Beth was inexplicably shy and Rafael strangely wary. It was almost as if they knew that the time for subterfuge was past and what was in their hearts had to be spoken. Uncertainly Rafael eyed Beth in the dimness of the room, the only light coming from the oil lamp near Beth's bed. Now that Rafael was with Beth he found himself oddly tongue-tied and ill at ease.

  For all his success with women, there had never been one that mattered to him, nor had he ever told a woman he loved her. Seduction and soft words had never been his way, he had always reached out and taken, but with Beth he was uncertain and hesitant.

  For Beth, watching him as she leaned back against the door, tonight was the culmination of every meeting, every exchange they had ever had. Every minute they had ever shared had been telescoped to this moment. Looking at him as he stood in the center of the room, legs slightly apart, thumbs hooked in the wide leather belt around his lean waist, she thought her heart would burst with love for him. He was so dear, so loved, and yet, if Don Felipe had his way, a chasm yawned at their feet. The memory of that meeting with Don Felipe this afternoon prompted her to ask huskily, "Have you talked with your grandfather?"

  Rafael gave an ugly laugh. "No, amada, and I have no intention of talking to him."

  With a painful intensity her eyes searched his face, wanting to believe him and yet fearful that Don Felipe had seen and talked with Rafael. This rendezvous could have been arranged to lull her suspicions, to make her believe that Rafael came on his own and not at the bidding of his grandfather.

  Beth wasn't aware how her thoughts betrayed her, but to Rafael, it was obvious that his grandfather had already put some poisonous idea in her mind. His eyes narrowed, and in a dangerous voice he demanded, "Don't you believe me?"

  Frightened by the violence she sensed in him, she stammered, "I-I-I don't know."

  That was all it took to ignite the smoldering fury that raged in his breast, and with a curse he crossed the short space that divided them, his hands closing around Beth's shoulders. "When have I ever lied to you?" he snarled softly. "Why would I start now, now when everything I have done these past weeks has been to teach you to trust me. Has everything I've done been for nothing? Do you think so little of me that my grandfather can destroy, in one afternoon, something that has been growing between us since the night of the Costa ball?"

  The violet eyes locked on the smoky-gray ones so near her own. Beth slowly shook her head. "No, I believe you." Trying to explain, she said quickly, "Don Felipe is a ruthless man and he frightened me." She took a breath before saying baldly, "He plans to force you to marry me."

  Rafael's hold on her lessened, and in a weary voice he said, "I figured that much out by myself."

  Her heart freezing in her breast, she asked uneasily, "You wouldn't allow him to do it?"

  Rafael gave her a queer smile. "Would marriage to me be so very terrible?"

  A new emotion entered the room, and his hands were gentle as they rested on her shoulders; the ugly violence she had sensed earlier had vanished. Unaccountably shy, Beth fixed her eyes on the strong, brown throat, unable to meet his piercing gaze. "It would depend," she got out in a barely audible tone.

  Gently he pulled her closer to him and with his lips brushing the curls at her temple, he asked thickly, "On what?"

  One hand nervously toying with the barrel button of his black chaqueta and regarding it intently, she said softly, "On why you wanted to marry me."

  It was a delectable moment, a duel of words between them, both prolonging it, yet each one, hardly able to stand the suspense, wanted the words said, wanted to know what was in the other's heart. They stood close—Beth's black gown melting into the blackness of Rafael's clothes, her fair head almost resting on his chest, his black head bent next to hers—both of them were unbearably aware of the vital importance of this tantalizing, elusive moment.

  She felt so soft and warm in his arms that he never wanted to let her go, and, finally admitting to himself the knowledge he had denied for weeks, months, the words burst explosively from him. "Oh, sweet Jesus, English, I'm in love with you! Isn't that reason enough to marry me and put me out of my misery?"

  It wasn't the way he had meant to tell her, and he swore at his own clumsiness. But for Beth it was everything she had ever wanted to hear from him, everything and the only thing that mattered—he loved her!

  Her eyes blazing with the love she had kept hidden for so long, Beth gazed up at him and Rafael caught his breath at what her expression revealed. As his hands tightened around her slender shoulders, he felt an emotion far stronger, far more enduring than anything he had ever experienced. Almost hesitantly, as if he were afraid to believe what was transparently obvious, he began tentatively, "English, do you...?"

  Beth nodded vigorously, and she threw her arms about his neck and said softly, "I've loved you for so long, even"—with misty eyes—"when you didn't deserve to be loved."

  She felt his body tremble, and then she was swept up in an embrace so fierce, so hungrily demanding, so sweetly painful that the present receded and they were alone in a new, hazy world of dreams. Beth gave herself up gladly to his arms and lips, her own arms locked tightly about his neck, her mouth yielding, knowing this was the moment she had lived all her life for, and now the dream lover, the dark renegade who had haunted her dreams, was hers and she was his... as she always had been.

  Unfortunately, there were pitfalls in front of them, and eventually Rafael eased his mouth away from hers to say unsteadily, "We have to talk. I don't want to, there are things I would far rather do, but my grandfather has placed us in a peculiar position." His gray eyes bleak and hard, he said harshly, "English, I will not allow him to dictate to me the where and the when and the how of my marriage. I love you and I want to marry you—and I want it done without his interference. I have waited all my life for love, and I will not have him sully the feeling between us—you understand me?"

  Beth nodded, understanding very well exactly what he meant. Don Felipe's cold-blooded scheme for their marriage would destroy the joy and happiness the event should bring, and she, like Rafael, did not want his grandfather to have any say in the vows that would join them together. "What do we do?"


  He frowned and absently dropped a kiss on her forehead, as his brain raced for a solution. "Would you very much mind being married very quickly and very quietly by a priest? I can see one first thing in the morning in San Antonio and procure a license. This time tomorrow evening we can be married." He looked at her keenly. "Will you dislike the fact that it will not be a grand affair? No lace and orange blossoms?"

  Beth sent him a tremulous smile. "I had that once, and it brought me little happiness." She reached up and gently kissed his warm mouth. "Rafael, it is not the trappings that I care for, but the man," she reassured him.

  He gave a small groan and gathered her close in his arms again, his mouth seeking hers with frantic urgency. In a voice deep with suppressed passion he muttered, "I, too, once had a wedding that was all glitter and pomp, and it brought me nothing but bitterness and hatred. When I marry you, I want no reminders of either of our marriages." His eyes hard he said, "You're mine! I love you and I will not share you—not even with memories, especially not memories of another man."

  "Shhh," Beth said against his lips. "Someday I shall tell you of Nathan. But not now, not tonight, tonight is ours, and I do not want to hear any more of what went before—we have each other and we start from here."

  A twisted smile crossed his face. "You are suddenly very wise, my dove. There is so much in our past to forget, isn't there? And yet there is so much that I cannot forget."

  Suddenly unsure and an icy coldness stealing into her heart, she asked, "What do you mean?"

  His face tender, he said softly, "The way you looked at the Costa ball—how can I ever forget that? Or the sweetness of your mouth when I kissed you that first time. Do you want me to forget that—I swear I could not—not even if I lived to be a hundred." The gray eyes darkening with remembrance, he added, "Or the sight of your naked white body against the ruby of that quilt in the house on the ramparts—that, too, I cannot forget—it has driven me half crazy for years."

  Beth bent her head into his chest and in a low, trembling voice said, "Perhaps some of the past we can never forget—nor, as you say, want to. But there is much of it..." She stopped and glanced up at him, wondering if in spite of his avowal of love, he still believed that she had gone willingly to Lorenzo's arms. It was important to know and she asked, "Do you believe what I told you about that day?"

  It was the one question that Rafael had dreaded she would ask, his own thoughts still unclear, but staring down into the fragile features, the honest violet eyes that met his so steadily, and the generous, sweetly curved mouth, he knew the answer. "Yes," he said simply. "What Consuela hoped to gain by it, I cannot conceive—but I know you, and when I put aside my own jealous demons, I know that you could never have arranged to meet Lorenzo." His voice fervent and impassioned, he added, "I have to believe you—if I didn't I should go mad with the evil thoughts that would fill my mind. I would not be able to bear to have you even look at another man for fear you would take him for a lover. So I must believe you, for my own sanity as well as the truth and honesty that I see in your eyes."

  A tear slid down Beth's cheek that she wasn't even aware of, so desperately intent was she on his words. But Rafael noticed it, and in a gentle voice he teased, "What's this, tears? Is this the way you greet a declaration of trust and love? Tears?"

  Beth gave a watery smile. "No, it is just that it means so much to me to know that you believe me. I have longed for you to know the truth, and I feared that even now..."

  He shook his head. "How could I continue to believe that and yet say I love you? Don't you know it was your sweetness and warmth that first drew me to you? If I hadn't been out of my head with jealousy, I would never have fallen so easily into Consuela's trap. Forget it, English; just remember that in spite of believing evil of you, I carried the picture of you in my heart until I saw you again at Cielo. And I'm afraid I fell hopelessly and helplessly in love with you all over again." He flashed her a crooked smile. "I've fought against it ever since I saw you standing by that blasted fountain—why do you think I've begun work on Enchantress?" At Beth's surprised look he gave her a gentle shake. "Yes. As a matter of fact, I came back from Enchantress, a proposal hovering on my lips, and what must you do but walk in with Lorenzo?"

  "But I didn't want him there!" Beth protested. "I hated it when he was around, but I could do nothing about it."

  Rafael's mouth thinned. "Don't worry about Lorenzo—one of the first things I may do as your husband is kill him!"

  In a small voice Beth said, "If you don't mind, I would rather you didn't. We have just found each other—I wouldn't want to lose you too soon. Lorenzo is treacherous, and while I'm certain you could kill him in a fair fight, I very much fear he does not know the meaning of fair."

  "Are you so very sure that I do?"

  "Probably not," Beth answered with unflattering promptness. "But I don't think I would like his corpse for a wedding present."

  He laughed under his breath and kissed her soundly. "Enough of this! Sebastian is waiting at the stables for me, and you and I have things to plan. But first—no more shadows? No unholy secrets you would like to confess while I am in such an amiable mood?"

  Rafael said it in a teasing manner, but for Beth it was the opening she had longed for. Toying again with one of his buttons on the black chaqueta, she murmured, "There is just one thing."

  "Oh?" he asked, an eyebrow rising quizzically.

  In a rush, giving herself no chance to have second thoughts, she blurted, "I'm going to have our baby!"

  Thunderstruck, Rafael stared down at her, and incredulously he regarded her apprehensive face. To her surprise, he laughed, a low, delighted laugh that melted her fears. "Truly?" he asked, a tender light blazing in the smoky-gray eyes.

  Beth nodded, her lips curved with burgeoning happiness. "Truly," she echoed, and wondered why she had feared to tell him. Perchance love does work miracles, she thought hazily, for certainly this tall man with the gentle hands and tender eyes bore little resemblance to the cold stranger who had met her that first night at Cielo.

  For Rafael this night was more miraculous than Beth could ever begin to guess. Raised with the savage Comanches, then nearly beaten into submission by his calculating grandfather, married to a woman who hated and despised him—he had been denied love and gentleness all his life. And now, now he was like a bewildered man who had suddenly stumbled in from a cold and barren life into a place of warmth and light. The gentleness and love had always been there within him, perhaps even laughter and gaiety, but it had been fiercely hidden away. But now, now with his golden English in his arms, her eyes shining with love for him, he could feel the last vestiges of his icy, protective shell melting in the warmth of her love. Gently he pulled her closer to him, his mouth sliding softly across her cheek and lips. His lips found hers and clung as he kissed her warmly, sweetly—no passion, no desire, just love and tenderness in his caress.

  Moving his lips to her ear, he whispered with a hint of laughter in his voice, "It is, perhaps, a good thing that we marry tomorrow night—I want our child to have some semblance of respectability." His hand rested on her stomach and there was both protectiveness and possession in his touch. But he frowned and asked with an odd urgency, "The night at Cielo or before I left for Enchantress?" When Beth hesitated, he said in surprise, "Surely not the night of the harlot's gown?"

  Beth blushed at the memory of that night and said quickly, "Before you left for Enchantress."

  He sighed. "I'm glad. The night at Cielo I wanted to hurt you, and I would not like to think that our child would be born from that time." A glitter in the gray eyes, he added, "Ah, but the night before Enchantress..."

  It was a delightful time for both of them, but all too soon Rafael had to tear himself away from her and make plans for the immediate future. Putting her from him, he muttered, "I have to go. Sebastian is waiting and there are things I must do. In order to keep my grandfather from trying to abduct you again and making us dance to his tune, I must leave
you here tonight and tomorrow—can you face it?"

  She touched his face with one hand, her own face glowing with an inner happiness. "I can manage—provided you do not leave me too long with Don Felipe. I fear my joy will be hard to hide from him, but for one day I think I can conceal it." Her eyes suddenly brimming with amusement, she teased, "But one day only. Longer and I shall reveal that you have compromised me dreadfully."

  A fleeting grin lit his dark face. "Threats already? I can see that I shall have to be a stern husband." Then the grin vanished and he said seriously, "Plead an illness tomorrow night and retire early. Just as soon as it is dark I'll come for you. Be ready. Hopefully no one will check on you until the morning, and by then it will be too late for my grandfather to do anything but offer us congratulations... before we leave for Enchantress. I want our child born there."

  To Beth it sounded like heaven. The thought that this time tomorrow night she would be his wife was something she could cling to throughout the long night and day that stretched before her. Their parting a few minutes later was bittersweet; it was all Rafael could do to force himself not to take her with him. But knowing Don Felipe would be after her immediately upon discovering her disappearance and knowing there wouldn't have been enough time to arrange a hasty marriage, reluctantly he put her from him and disappeared out her window.

  Sebastian was impatiently waiting for him at the stables. "What took so long?" he demanded. "I'm going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do if one of the guards finds me loitering about at this time of night, especially since I told your not-so-believing grandfather that I was exhausted and needed my sleep. I don't think he believed one word of what I said all evening, and I didn't like the way he watched Beth when she left. You did see her?"

  Rafael nodded and, still bemused by the knowledge that Beth loved him and that there was to be a child, he said softly, "Wish me well, Sebastian, for English and I marry tomorrow night."