Manuela slowly shook her head. "I would like to do this thing for you, senora, truly I would, but I am afraid—please, do not ask it of me!"
Beth opened her mouth to reassure the other woman 173
that there was nothing to fear—she would take care of her—and it was then that she reahzed with frustration it would be useless to have Manuela speak now. Rafael was not likely to believe Consuela's ex-servant in any event—why should he? But more importantly, there was an extremely good probability that he would think that Beth had bribed her. It was dreadful enough that he already thought she was an adulterous little slut, Beth decided bitterly, without adding bribery to her list of crimes. Knowing she was defeated at the moment, she firmly shut her mouth. What did it matter anyway, she wondered rebelliously, and besides she and Nathan w^ould have left the Hacienda^del Cielo far behind them before Rafael Santana appeared on the scene.
A tap on the inner door of the sitting room ended the conversation. "Shall I answer it, senora?" Manuela asked quietly. "It is probably your husband. He has been given the suite which adjoins yours."
Beth nodded, and a moment later Nathan strolled into the room looking very elegant in a plum-colored coat with a black velvet collar and slim black pantaloons. He glanced appreciatively at his wife and murmured, "Ah, my dear, how lovely you are! I take it you have recovered from youi' earlier indisposition? It would be utterly frightful if you were to become ill just as we are about to return home." An unpleasant thought occurred to him, and he said with a delicate shudder, "Why, if you were ill, we might even have to delay our departure!"
Beth smiled with tolerant amusement, guessing that his anxiety to return to Natchez far outweighed his usual concern for her. "I'm feeling much better, Nathan," she answered gently. "I think it was merely that the journey from San Antonio proved more strenuous than I expected."
Nathan seemed satisfied with her explanation, but as they walked toward the sala, he glanced at her keenly and asked slowly, "It i^os just the journey, Beth? I saw your face, you know, and you looked as though you had experienced a terrible shock."
Her mouth dry, Beth stared wordlessly back at him. If Nathan guessed in whose house they were, if he re-
alized who Rafael was, it could prove fatal. A duel would be inevitable, and remembering Nathan's ineptness with a pistol, she felt a quiver of fear. At all costs she had to allay Nathan's suspicions. Somehow she summoned a bright, carefree smile and said lightly, "Did I? Well I'm not surprised at all! I felt perfectly horrid! So giddy and nauseous from the ride that I was very much afraid I might faint at your feet—and that would have been shocking!"
He remained silent for a moment, his gray eyes searching her face intently. "Yes, I suppose it would have been," he said finally. Flicking an imaginary bit of fluff from his jacket sleeve, he added sedately, "Well, then, now that we have that behind us, shall we join our hosts and Sebastian?"
Hiding her unease, Beth agreed. Had she convinced him? Or increased his suspicions? She greatly feared it was the latter, but there was nothing she could do about it now—they had reached their destination.
Walking calmly into the main room that night, knowing that Lorenzo Mendoza would be there, that her husband was watching her closely, and that Rafael Santana could arrive at any moment, was one of the most difficult things Beth had ever done in her life. Fortunately she was, in her own unassuming manner, a woman with a great deal of inner strength, and so, even though she dreaded the coming evening, she entered the room with outward serenity. And no one seeing her lovely composed features would have guessed that inwardly she was an apprehensive mass of seething, churning emotions.
She saw Lorenzo almost as soon as she entered the room, and her heart sank when she glimpsed the flash of recognition that glittered in his eyes. Recognition— and something else that made her thankful they were meeting in a room full of people.
Lorenzo smiled caressingly at her when they were introduced, his eyes lingering on her mouth, and she knew he was remembering. But instead of being frightened, Beth found herself shaken with rage. How dare he smile at her so! Her eyes sparkling with a temper
seldom aroused, Beth stared back defiantly, almost daring him to speak of that despicable afternoon.
Lorenzo had no intention of mentioning what had occurred in New Orleans four years ago. He was no fool and he was well aware that his position was at best precarious. All Beth had to do was open her entrancing mouth and he would find himself looking down the business end of a pistol. Almost as bad, he would lose his patron, Don Miguel, for there was little doubt that the other man would continue to lend his benefaction to someone accused of the crime that Beth could expose. It was absolutely imperative that Beth keep her mouth shut—he had no intention o^^allowing her to ruin his position. Bending over her hand he muttered, '1 must talk to you alone, senora."
Don Miguel, who performed the introductions, had turned away to answer some question his wife asked, and under the cover of his answer to Dona Madelina, Beth hissed, "Are you insane? I have nothing to say to you, and if you are wise you will forget that you ever met me!"
The black eyes cold and calculating, he murmured, "My sentiments exactly!"
Don Miguel turned back just then, and there was no further opportunity for them to speak of an event uppermost in both of their minds.
Overwhelmingly relieved that Lorenzo had no more desire to speak of past history than she did, Beth relaxed slightly. But only slightly, too conscious of the fact that Rafael could appear at any moment, and whatever breathing room she had gained could disappear in an instant.
Dinner was superb, the spicy Spanish and Mexican food pleasantly hot and biting on Beth's tongue, the conversation light and lively, Sebastian and, surprisingly, Nathan both outdoing themselves in being clever and witty. Don Miguel was a charming host, effortlessly putting his guests at ease and conversing on a variety of subjects, which proved that though he and his family lived miles from any sophisticated center he was a man of culture and refinement. Dona Madelina had little to say, but it was obvious she adored her husband and
that she was a warm and caring person; her glance was kind and friendly as she surveyed her guests, and an infectious smile was seen frequently on her lips throughout the meal.
Of Lorenzo Beth preferred not to think. She avoided his direction the entire time they sat at a long, elegant table eating dinner. But she could not make him vanish any more than she could banish Rafael from her mind. Staring at the debonair Don Miguel at the head of the table, she found herself unconsciously searching for some resemblance to Rafael, but she could find none, except for the black hair and the thick black eyebrows with their almost wicked slant. Don Miguel's face was kinder, softer, perhaps even weaker than his son's; his dark eyes were inclined to twinkle with amusement, and his chiseled lips quirked easily into a smile; his body was slimmer and shorter than his son's. And yet, when Lorenzo made some comment that annoyed him, he looked very much like Rafael, as his mouth tightened ominously and the black eyes hardened and lost their merry twinkle.
Beth and Dona Madelina left the gentlemen to their cigars and brandy as soon as dinner was finished, and they wandered out to the inner courtyard to enjoy the mild night air. Near the three-tiered fountain they seated themselves in sturdy iron chairs made extremely comfortable by fluffy scarlet cushions, and Dona Madelina reopened the conversation concerning Stella Rodriguez that had started during dinner.
'Imagine your being a friend of Estella's!" Madelina had exclaimed. "I remember how unhappy she was at being sent to school in England, and I couldn't really blame her. Her mother is English, you know, and she was most insistent that Estella attend her old school. So it was off to England for our darling Estella. And to think that now one of her friends from there is traveling to see her! How wonderful!"
Sebastian had obviously not told them of the change in plans, and Beth had hesitated to correct the impression that they were continuing on their journey, but Nathan had shown no such re
ticence. Blandly he had murmured, "Yes, it was a wonderful idea, but one we
find with regret that we shall have to forget. When we leave here, we ^ill be returning home to Natchez— Beth has found the journey simply too. too arduous, and I cannot allow her to damage her fragile health. Of course / would much prefer to press on, but you understand the situation."
Beth had nearly choked on her wine and had sent Nathan a speaking glance torn between amusement and annoyance. Nathan had smiled at her sheepishly and somewhat hastily changed the subject. Beyond the expressions of disappointment, the topic was dropped.
But now that she had Beth all to herself, Dona Ma-delina began, "W^at a pity tljat you are not continuing on your journey. After all, ypu have come a great way to turn back.*'
Beth made some tactful reply and asked, ''Didn*t Stella live near here before she and Juan moved to Santa Fe?"
It was the surest way to turn Dona Madelina's thoughts away from the canceled trip. ''Oh, yes/' she answered instantly. "The Hacienda del Torillo is not more than twenty miles away. Estella was often here at our home as a child—she and my second daughter, Maria, were great companions. Did you know that Estella is related to us?'' Dona Madelina asked curiously, then added deprecatingly, ''Of course, it is only distantly, you understand—Maria maiTied Juan's eldest brother, and they live at the Rodriguez rancho, not more than a day's ride from here.'' Struck by a sudden thought. Dona Madelina said excitedly, "But of coursel I shall send a rider over there tomorrow morning and invite Maria and Esteban to meet you! I am certain that you will enjoy Maria's company, and you two will no doubt find it amusing to exchange tales of Estella's escapades—she was always a lively thing."
Hastily Beth said, ''Oh, no, Dona Madelina! We do not intend to stay more than a few days. We would not wish to put you to any trouble."
Disappointed, Dona Madelina murmured, "It wouldn't be a bit of trouble, but if vou would rather not..."
"It isn't that I wouldn't want to meet your daughter, 178
it is just that, having made up our minds to return to Natchez, we would like to do it as soon as possible. You do understand?"
Dona Madelina smiled kindly at her. "Yes, my dear, I do. I simply wish that you and your husband were staying longer—we seldom have visitors, and when we do, it is like a holiday. Selfishly we would like it to last as long as possible."
Beth said nothing, wishing passionately that she dared take advantage of the warm hospitality offered. How much she would have enjoyed meeting a friend of Stella's! But it was imperative that they not linger, and so regretfully she changed the subject. "Do you have only the two daughters? Or are there more?"
"There are five," Dona Madelina replied proudly, always delighted to talk of her children. "The older ones are married, with families of their own—two of them in Spain." Her face saddened for a moment. "I miss them dreadfully, but Miguel has promised me that next year we will go to Spain for a long visit. Oh, how I shall enjoy it!"
"And the youngest? Is she not here with you?"
Dona Madelina's4ips tightened. "No. Don Felipe, my husband's father, decided that Arabela needed to acquire some sophistication, and so when he departed for Mexico some weeks ago, he insisted she go with him. I did not like it, I can tell you that, but Don Felipe is rather hard to dissuade from any given idea—and my husband will not defy him."
"Perhaps she will like Mexico City," Beth offered gently. "Many young girls would, and Fm certain that she will be a comfort to her grandfather."
"Now, that I rather doubt!" Dona Madelina retorted tartly. Her expression a mixture of pride and uneasiness, she added, "Arabela is a constant joy to us, you understand, but she is so spirited! She does not take kindly to authority, and I am very much afraid Don Felipe will be too strict and she will defy him. My father-in-law has already suggested a match for her, and even though she is just fifteen she has very decided views about her future—and she flatly refused to consider it. She is very independent." Dona Madelina sighed. "She
reminds me too frequently of her half-brother, Rafael. You may meet him before you leave, and you will see what I mean. He is extremely iron-willed— nothing stops him from doing precisely as he pleases! Rafael frightens me a little, but Arabela says that I am just silly."
Beth sent her a strained little smile, thinking that Arabela was the one who was silly. The conversation would have returned to the married daughters at that point had the gentlemen not joined the ladies just then.
At the sight of Lorenzo's swarthy face above his white shirt and gold brocade jacket, Beth's slightly relaxed mood vanished. She avoided his eyes as he attempted to catch her attention and tj^irew herself into a gay, mild flirtation with the delighted Sebastian. But when Sebastian was unwillingly drawn into a conversation with Don Miguel and Nathan, Lorenzo neatly trapped Beth near one end of the courtyard where she had walked to inspect a particularly lovely potted palm tree. Sauntering up to her, he said harshly, "I must talk to you."
Her jaw set in a surprisingly hard line, Beth regarded him with open contempt. "And I told you I have nothing to say to you!"
Something ugly entered his eyes, and instinctively Beth stepped away from him, but he captured her wrist and threatened, "Don't scream—just listen to me!"
"I haven't much choice, have I?" she returned tightly. "Unless I wish to cause a scene we both might regret."
Forcing himself to speak calmly, he said softly, "I don't mean you any harm, please: believe that. And I have no intention of admitting to anyone that we have met before or of even hinting at the circumstances— can I trust you to do the same?"
Bitterly Beth replied, "I am hardly likely to bring up the subject! But I think you have forgotten that Rafael is expected, and I doubt that he will keep his mouth shut."
Lorenzo bit his lip. "I know," he admitted with a slight air of nervousness. "I intend to be gone before he arrives—he and I do not make for agreeable company together." Shooting a glance at Beth from under his lids, he murmured, "He still doesn't know that my dearly departed cousin arranged that little tableau for him—
and somehow, I don't think he is going to inform his father that he caught you and me in an intimate situation. So shall we strike a bargain, you and I? I will forget that we ever met, if you will do the same."
Her flesh crawling with revulsion just talking to him, Beth stared mutinously up at Lorenzo's unnervingly intent features for a long minute, wishing there were some way to expose him to Don Miguel. And wretchedly she realized that it was impossible to do so... without telling the entire sordid tale of that afternoon in New Orleans. It had been hard enough to tell her husband, and even to him she had not revealed names, but to speak of it to a total stranger was beyond her—especially when that stranger was connected to the perpetrators by marriage... and blood. But, disliking it emphatically, she had no choice and so reluctantly she agreed. "Very well. We have never met... and, Lorenzo, I pray God we never meet again!''
The black eyes glowed dangerously and his hand tightened painfully around her wrist. "You no more than I, senora," he muttered.
Beth watched him walk away from her with frustrated relief... and unease. There had been something in his tone of voice when he had spoken of his "dearly departed cousin" that left her worried and just a little disquieted. Their bargain galled her; she longed to see him unmasked for the blackguard that he was.
Nathan strolled over to her and, scanning the wrist she was unconsciously rubbing with her other hand, he asked mildly, "Is everything all right with you, my dear? I couldn't help but notice the somewhat intense conversation you were having with that Mendoza fellow. Was he bothering you?"
"Why no, of course not!" Beth replied quickly, hating the lies that were beginning to fall so freely from her lips. "He was just being polite and making small talk— you know how it is."
"Certainly, but it appeared to me to be more than just...small talk."
Desperate to change the subject, Beth retorted with unusual sharpness, "Well, it
wasn't! We were only talking, Nathan—not making an assignation!"
If Beth had hit him, her husband couldn't have been more surprised. His blond eyebrows soaring in astonishment, he regarded her angry face. There was a pain-fill silence and then Beth murmured miserably, "Forgive me, Nathan. I don't know what has come over me."
"I rather think that you do, my dear," Nathan said slowly a second later. But as Beth opened her mouth to protest, he placed a restraining finger against her lips and stated tranquilly, "Hush, Beth. Something has obviously upset you, I am not blind, you know. But if you don't wish to tell me, fine—forced confidences have never been to my liking." The finger that had been on her lips gently traced her delicajte jawline, and, his voice not quite steady, Nathan added, "You know that I care for you as deeply as it is possible for me to care for any woman. Keep your secrets, but remember that I am always at hand."
Beth knew her eyes were damp with tears and unhappily she stammered, "Oh, Nathan, M-I..."
Her husband put an end to her dilemma by bending over and softly kissing her lips. Smiling gently, he said, "Good night, Beth. I'll see you in the morning."
Her throat tight and raw with pain, she stared blindly at the flagstones of the courtyard as he walked away from her. If only she dared tell him! How much easier it would make things—but how much deadlier might the outcome be. The prospect of Nathan fighting a duel terrified her and there was little likelihood there would not be a duel if he knew the truth.
Beth wasted little time in seeking her own bed. She was exhausted emotionally as well as physically, and she yearned for nothing more than the oblivion that came with sleep. Quickly crossing the courtyard, she said good night to Don Miguel and Dona Madelina and absently declined Sebastian's strangely impassioned plea that they take a short walk around the grounds of the hacienda before she retired.
Angrily unhappy, Sebastian was inclined to press the issue, but he was very much aware that Beth was oddly inattentive and so, frustration boiling in his veins, he accepted her negative answer without further argument. Moodily his gaze rested on her face, wondering
Louisiana 08 - While Passion Sleeps Page 18
