Louisiana 08 - While Passion Sleeps

by Shirlee Busbee

  He gave a twisted smile. "You know me too well, Consuela, but remember, 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. I am unimpressed."

  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." And then she swept out of the room, leaving Elizabeth

  staring with wide, frightened eyes at the slender Lorenzo.

  Slowly 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 very gentle and you will enjoy me—I shall see to it."

  "No! Please, sefior, do not do this to me! Please!" Elizabeth pleaded, a bubble of hysteria rising in her throat. "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." And with that he reached out and effortlessly swung hertip into his arms.

  He was a finely boned young man, his slenderness hiding 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 sharply, as swiftly he 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 eventually defeated her, as Lorenzo's form divided into two distinct shapes, and the giddiness she had experienced earlier attacked her once more. Her thoughts were confused and she suddenly found herself babbling wild, 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 wildly flailing arms, as well as 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 with ruthless intensity began to strip the clothes from her body. It took time, but all too soon Elizabeth lay there 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 sensual 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 dimly 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 soft sensuousness of the satin sheets, and once her cheeks brushed the lacy trim of the pillow case. But she had no time to dwell on their richness or take pleasure in the softness of the bed, because Lorenzo's hard, hot body was instantly pressed against hers.

  Her thoughts were no longer logical, and somewhere along the way 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 so much more satisfying and thrilling than the stolen embrace in the cloakroom because they were both naked and all thought of her husband and his wife had 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 the slender, silken warmth of her. Yet that very desire held him back, as he deliberately prolonged the agonizing sweetness, delaying the exquisite moment. 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 almost obsessively down to the small breasts, the nipples erect and begging for his mouth, the slender hips moving sensuously under his hands,

  and the delicately formed legs that tapered to incredibly tiny ankles. He felt his body filling with such passion that even he was surprised.

  Elizabeth was lost, lost in a haze of emotions that swirled and tumbled through her brain. She wanted more than these increasingly 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 felt his body leap with burning excitement at her words, and swiftly he moved to cover her, his hips fitting knowledgeably 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, almost 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, it was a stranger to her— while Rafael stood towering above the smaller man, his fists clenched and his features tight and furious!

  Dazedly, not understanding, she watched and listened as Lorenzo said sneeringly, 'Torgive 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 went rigid and 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 harshly, 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 gave a shrug and with nonchalant insolence began slowly to dress. "She is very good, amigo, in bed. She especially enjoys her nipples being—" He was never able to finish that deliberately taunting sentence, for

  Rafael could no longer control the rage within him and lunged at the other man.

  It was an ugly fight. There was already hatred between them and Rafael with Consuela's jeering words still blazing in his brain was like a madman. He had not believed her when Consuela had shouted, 'Tou 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 actually is. Go! Go there, 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, and 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 so 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 being 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 quickly he pulled a knife from amongst his clothing.

>   Abruptly Rafael halted, his blue-black hair falling onto his forehead, his eyes narrowing to frightening slits. ''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, delightful though she is," he lied.

  Suddenly sickened by the entire affair, Rafael's shoulders slumped and he turned away, but in that

  instant Lorenzo lunged at him, the knife trailing a silver arch in the darkness of the shuttered room.

  Elizabeth, watching wide-eyed and helpless, saw Lorenzo's leap and screamed, giving Rafael the second's warning that saved his life. Hearing her scream, 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. Viciously Lorenzo fought back, twisting and coiling like a snake in the fangs of a wolf, trying desperately 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 slowly, agonizingly bring it neat Rafael's strong brown throat, but with silent deadly'strength Rafael turned it away and toward Lorenzo. His gray eyes bright and relentless, inexorably Rafael forced the knife gradually in Lorenzo's direction. For a moment longer they were locked together, and then suddenly Lorenzo's strength gave out and the knife plunged into his groin.

  Shrieking as much from pain as fear, Lorenzo fell to the floor, his hands automatically reaching to staunch the flow of blood that spread with alarming speed. "You bastardo! You might have killed me," he growled with a ragged breath as he surveyed the damage.

  "You won't die of that wound, and 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 said emotion-lessly.

  Lorenzo cursed and somewhat painfully struggled to his feet. "You will forgive me if at the moment I do not feel like continuing this conversation? I must go and find a doctor to treat my wound."

  Contemptuously Rafael watciied him stumble into his remaining clothing and limp with obvious pain from the room. There was silence after Lorenzo left, and then slowly Rafael turned to look at Elizabeth, still half-drugged on the bed.

  She was indeed beautiful, he thought coldly with one part of his brain, taking in the tumbled, silvery fair hair that cascaded to her waist and the perfect breasts that peeked impudently through the strands of hair.

  She was half-sitting, half-lying on the bed, the violet eyes still heavy from the belladonna, but to Rafael they appeared drugged with passion. And staring at the naked, gleaming 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 had looked like an angel and who had 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 in disgust. 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 violent and ugly to her. But Elizabeth called softly to him, "Don't leave me." And suddenly he didn't care anymore—she was a slut, so... well, why not take what she offered, why not use that lily-white body that had awakened new and strange emotions within him?

  It was a cold, calculated thought, a Comanche thought. He wanted to punish her, to give her pain, to make certain, as he knew he would, that she remembered this afternoon from all the others she had spent or would spend with various lovers. And yet when he reached out and touched her something happened between them, something he hadn't expected.

  He wanted to punish her, it was true, and yet inexplicably entwined with that thought was an odd tenderness he could not control. Instead of taking her brutally and coldly, he found himself wanting more, much more, the moment his hard hands reached for her and dragged her ruthlessly up next to him.

  Compulsively his lips sought hers in a savage, plundering rape of her mouth, and Elizabeth gave a soft moan of distress and pain. Instantly, unable to help himself and strangely unwilling to harm her, his lips gentled, and with an angry, yearning tenderness he began to kiss her again, this time his tongue sweetly

  and intoxicatingly inflaming Elizabeth's already aroused sensuality.

  The drug blurring her inhibitions, helplessly Elizabeth gave herself up to his mouth and ardently caressing hands, her arms wrapping hungrily around his neck, her naked body arching up invitingly against his. Innocently, only half aware of what she was doing, she offered her slender young body to him, her mouth opening irresistibly for his frankly sensual exploration, her hips moving sinuously against him.

  With a soft growl of pleasure, Rafael forgot everything but the lovely, warm flesh under his hands. His mouth never leaving her body, sliding from shoulder to breast, he ripped off his clathes with urgent movements. A sigh of satisfaction drifted in the air when at last his tall, nude body joined hers on the bed. Gathering her fiercely into his arms, his mouth tasted and teased her breasts until the nipples were throbbing and tight with anticipation.

  Elizabeth's small ivory body fitted exquisitely into the hard muscle and bone of his dark form, and passionately Rafael's hands traveled over her silken skin, touching, caressing, arousing until she felt liquid fire flowing in her veins. A yearning, seeking ache like she had never before experienced seemed to grow between her thighs, and Rafael's probing fingers only increased it, driving her half mad with a longing for something more, and she moaned with pleasure and frustration.

  Hearing the small sounds she made, Rafael's desire became so intense and urgent that it was almost more than he could bear. Slowly, savoring the moment and yet hotly eager for it, he slipped between her thighs and thrust himself inside her.

  Unaware of her virgin state, thinking he was with a woman who knew what she was about, he did not take the care or prolong his lovemaking as he might have done otherwise, and, though she was aroused to a sobbing acquiescence, Elizabeth felt a sharp, burning pain as that first plunge tore through the delicate membranes. She stiffened and instinctively sought to escape from him, her hands pushing in sudden fear against his hard, warm chest.

  Rafael felt the slight obstruction and the instant change in the body that had been lying so pliant and eager beneath him, and for one incredulous second he wondered if he had made a dreadful mistake. But then the impossibility of it occurred to him and, thinking it was only a bit of coyness, a teasing on her part, his mouth fastened with determination on hers and deliberately he forced a response from her. His hands slid under her slender hips and pulled her roughly closer to him and then he began to move again, hungrily, urgently wanting the release that was only bare seconds away.

  The first shock of pain lessening and his lips firmly and compellingly on hers, Elizabeth felt her earlier state of feverish arousal returning. His hands at her hips, holding her tightly to him, were both physically exciting and erotic, and she discovered an overwhelming need to press herself even closer, to eagerly meet the thrust of his body. Incredibly she began to feel a wild surge of exquisite sensations as his body continued to move upon hers, and frenziedly she twisted under him, her fingers unconsciously raking his back.

  Rafael was not gentle with her, nor was he particularly brutal, but he was an angry, disillusioned man taking what he thought was a woman who had often known the ways of men. And because he was both angry and filled with a strange, bitter hurt at finding her with Lorenzo, he wasn't the tantalizing, seductive lover he could be upon occasion. He simply possessed her body and released all of his pent-up fury and passion into it.

  Elizabeth di
dn't know the difference. She was too entangled in the fiery pleasures that were surging through her body as Rafael continued to drive himself deep within her to be aware of anything but the sensations he was creating. And then, just as the spiraling, intensely pleasurable ache between her thighs became nearly unbearable, he shuddered and it was over, his body sliding off hers.

  Dazed, she stared up at his dark, angry face. Her arms tightened unconsciously about his neck and, still hungry for something only guessed at, she murmured, 'Tlease, please.. /'

  For a long moment Rafael looked into the achingly lovely features, the wide violet eyes framed by the heavy gold-tipped lashes, the full, inviting ruby mouth and furiously he felt his body stir with desire again. It enraged him almost beyond reason. Promiscuous bitch! he thought savagely. Bitch with the face of an angel! And yet he desired her— por Dios, how he desired her!

  Furious with himself, Rafael wound his hand hurt-fully in the mass of silvery curls and, twisting her face closer to his, he snarled, "No! I do not share my women, English. You are Lorenzo's and you obviously find it boring to have just one man in your bed. I have no intention of having a woman thg^t is not mine, and mine alone!" [

  Her eyes locked on his, she asked huskily, ''And would I be the only woman in your bed?"

  He gave a twisted smile. "Perhaps. I think you are lovely enough to keep my interest from wandering to another." Then his smile faded and he shook his head. "No, English, it would not do. If I were to possess you again I would make you my mistress, willing or not, and sooner or later, I think, you would betray me, if I were insane enough to do such a thing. Besides," he finished with a thread of amusement in his voice, "you would not like the places I would take you."

  For some inexplicable reason she was driven to argue with him. "How do you know—unless you take me with you?"