"Well, that settles it, then!" Nathan said genially. "Of course we will accept your invitation, sir."
It was all arranged so quickly that Beth never had a chance to refute the plans, and, undressing for bed a short while later, she was filled with frustration and tears. She should have been more alert for Rafael to make some sort of move to thwart her, but she hadn't really thought that he would care one way or another. It was true he had warned her to remain at the hacienda, but upon deeper reflection she had decided he had been merely.. .Well, she didn't know what might have been in his mind at that moment, but she had felt fairly confident that if she forced the issue he wouldn't make any effort to stop her. After all, having the opinion of her that he had, surely he would be happy to see the last of her. Wouldn't he?
The fact that he wasn't willing to do so alarmed her and yet it also, she admitted shamefully, gave her a queer flutter of excitement. Which was the last emotion she should be feeling, she rounded on herself angrily. What sort of an empty-headed fool was she? Rafael San-tana was dangerous—too dangerous for her peace of mind—and for a brief second she recalled reading of Lady Caroline Lamb's comment made decades ago concerning that dashing Lord Byron: "Mad, bad, and dangerous to know!" That certainly fitted Rafael Santana!
Sleep proved elusive, her thoughts tumbling and churning. She couldn't help but remember Manuela's recital of the facts leading to Consuela's death, and for
a long time she lay in her bed wondering if Rafael really hxid arranged it. Her spirit rebelled against such an unworthy idea. Rafael might be dangerous, he might also be "mad and bad," but somehow she couldn't imagine him doing something that despicable. Beth was quite certain that he was capable of murder, but she was positive he would have been far more likely to strangle Consuela with his bare hands in a fit of fury than to cold-bloodedly set a pack of Comanche killers on her trail. That thought didn't make her feel any better, but at least it resolved one particular fear. If she'd had the slightest lingering doubt that Rafael was indeed capable of doing such a dastardly act, nothing would have compelled her to set foot outride of the hacienda.
Another fear was set partially to rest too that long sleepless night—Rafael hadn't betrayed their bitterly regretted association to Nathan, and, restlessly mulling it over, she came to the conclusion that for whatever devious reasons, he wasn't going to do so. That such a secret existed and that she was a party to it made her writhe with self-abomination. If only she had ignored Consuela's invitation that day in New Orleans
Morning came at last and finally, after what seemed like days to Beth, the hour for their departure approached. There had been quite a bustle as their trunks and valises were packed and loaded, but Nathan gave Beth a nasty scare when he murmured mildly, "It is a shame that we have to leave in this hurly-burly manner. There really was no pressing reason for us not to stay for several more days, was there?"
Beth shot him an almost frightened look, but there was nothing in his face to alarm her and she said quickly, "No, there wasn't. But having made up our minds, I just naturally assumed that you would want to start back as soon as possible."
Nathan regarded her for a long moment, his gray eyes taking in the purple shadows under her eyes and the hint of strain that seemed to tighten her soft mouth. Despite discounting Rafael Santana's charms with the opposite sex, Nathan was very aware of the fact that his wife had been acting singularly strange ever since they had arrived at the hacienda, especially since Don
Miguel's son had appeared. He knew Beth rather well, and he'd have been a dunce not to have suspected that something was bothering her. He had tried a few times to get her to tell him but she had always shied away— just as she was doing now.
When the actual moment came to say good-bye, Beth found it oddly emotional. She hated bidding Sebastian farewell, he had come to mean a great deal to her, and Don Miguel and Dona Madelina had been so kind and hospitable that she felt a perfect wretch for leaving so swiftly. Dona Madelina's eyes were suspiciously misty when she said good-bye to Beth, and the surprising strength of the unexpected embrace she bestowed stayed with Beth for a long time. Don Miguel had kissed her gently on the forehead and whispered, "I shall hold the memory of your visit dear to me, niha" Smiling warmly he added, ''One would think that already having five lovely daughters I would object to a sixth—but if she were like you, I would thank God."
It was a generous compliment and Beth fought back tears. The hacienda was only a shimmering, blurring outline to her gaze, and the cries of ''jVaya con Dios!" rang in her ears as the coach slowly moved away.
Don Miguel had insisted upon sending ten men to increase the size and protection of their party for the journey to San Antonio, and so it was a well-armed group that left the hacienda. Rafael, riding his big dapple-gray stallion like a centaur, his expression hidden under the brim of his large black sombrero, rode past the coach as they cleared the gates, his dynamic presence reminding Beth that she had not yet escaped from the peril he represented. The sight of the ever-present Colt pistol strapped to his thigh and the long black muzzle-loading rifles of the vaqueros brought home again to Beth the very real dangers of the journey she had undertaken so lightly. Suddenly she longed passionately for the quiet jasmine-lined streets of Natchez.
Nathan had been perfectly amenable to Beth's desire for the sudden departure, feeling more light-hearted than he had in ages. With the same languid grace with which he had descended from the coach three days previously he had ascended it that morning,
and while he wouldn't have minded visiting with the Santanas for a more extended period, he watched the hacienda grow smaller in the distance with pleasure.
Beth's distress at leaving the hacienda had been obvious, and Nathan was certain there was more to it than just the sadness of bidding friends farewell. Perhaps she had discovered that she cared more deeply for Sebastian than she had realized? He frowned. No, of course not! So what was troubling her? It was not Nathan's nature to pry, nor was he likely to take offense at her desire to keep her thoughts to herself, but he decided he would make one last attempt to discover the cause of Beth's odd tenseness and unhappiness. He said nothing for several miles, deliberately giving Beth time to recover her composure. Finally, though, somewhat carefully regarding his expertly polished boots, he asked quietly, "Would you care to enlighten me as to the real reason we left the hacienda so abruptly?"
Beth kept her eyes on her gloved hands that were lying loosely in her lap, suddenly weary of the lies and half-truths. "Do you honestly want to know, Nathan?" she asked at last.
Now that she was on the point of telling him, Nathan wasn't so certain it was such a wise idea. He thought about it for quite some time and he said calmly, "No, I don't think I do, my dear."
She looked at him then and smiled faintly. "Have I ever told you, dear Nathan, that I care very deeply for you?"
An extremely gratified expression crossed his face. "Why, no, I don't believe you ever have," he said lightly. And, with an odd air of needing reassurance, he asked, "Do you?"
"Very much, Nathan, very much." Beth answered with a tremulous smile, her conscience pricking her at the deceit she had so unwillingly practiced on him.
There was little conversation between them after that, both of them lost in their own thoughts, Nathan congratulating himself on the wisdom of giving Beth her head, and of not allowing his unworthy suspicions and jealousy of Sebastian to burst its bounds.
As for Beth, she had not been merely saying words 264
to hear herself speak when she told her husband that she cared deeply for him. She did. And while she knew he would never arouse the wildly giddying passions that Rafael evoked so effortlessly, she was suddenly determined to work even harder at making their marriage stronger and more meaningful. At home she would be able to forget Rafael Santana and the dark pull he had on her heart.
Yet Beth was stubbornly positive that she did not love Rafael. Love did not come so quickly, so unwillingly, she thought desperately. Lo
ve was what she and Nathan shared, the pleasurable learning of one another slowly and leisurely, of day by day growing closer and closer as they had, not something that was like a thunderbolt out of a cloudless sky. Not something that caused her heart to beat erratically every time she saw Rafael's tall, powerful male figure, nor the queer fearful excitement that surged through her body at the thought of being in his arms and having his hard mouth plunder hers. No, that wasn't love—that was just silly infatuation, she told herself firmly. Silly, foolish infatuation! She would not consider it to be anything else. Somehow she was going to get through the next few miserable days and then at last she and Nathan would be on their way home to Briarwood, leaving Rafael and everything associated with him far behind.
But it was easier to make that vow than to keep it, as she found out that night when they finally stopped to make camp. They had made camp fairly early in a secluded spot near a small waterfall that formed a clear pool of water at its base; under other circumstances Beth would have found it charming. But there were two very-^ood reasons why she didn't. The first was the deplorable fact that Nathan, inclined to celebrate their return to civilization a bit more exuberantly than necessary or seemly, had partaken far too freely of the brandy that he had carried with him from Natchez, and within a very short time he was snoring away in one of the wagons as drunk as Beth had ever seen him. It came as a shock, because while she had always known that Nathan drank, and heavily at that—what gentleman didn't?—he had never before done so in front of
her, and she found it distressing. And of course, the other reason for her lack of enjoyment of the starry sky and cool evening breeze that rustled the leaves of the sycamore trees near the waterfall was Rafael's dark intrusive presence.
He had been frigidly polite all day long, and she had been able to avoid him simply because he chose to ride his horse rather than accept the comfort of the coach. Rafael's actions toward her were so stiffly correct that she wondered if she had mistaken his reason for accompanying them. She tried not to think of him, tried not to think of his purpose for traveling with them, but she failed dismally.
The reasons for Rafael's cool correctness were simple: He was so icily furious with Beth that he didn't dare trust himself to treat her with anything but punctilious civility. Not only had she caught him off guard by her defiance, but more than that, instead of letting her go out of his life as he would have any other woman, he discovered that he hadn't been able to do so. And what must I do, he thought viciously, but tag along behind her like a lovesick, callow fool!
It was true that he did have business in San Antonio, and it was true that he had planned to leave this morning for that city. But it was equally true that if it hadn't been for Beth he would have left Cielo at first light and could have beaten the slower-traveling Ridgeways there by as much as a half a day. It didn't improve his temper to know precisely why he hadn't done exactly that— English! Damn her beautiful hide!
Rafael had been drinking himself, but Nathan's steady assault on the bottle of brandy disturbed him, and once he had even thought to suggest that Nathan restrain his desire for the bottle until they were in more appropriate surroundings, but then he shrugged and turned away. Ridgeway was a grown man.
The evening meal, eaten by the light of the flickering campfire, had been decidedly uncomfortable. Nathan was by then already far too drunk to be an agreeable companion; though he said nothing particularly offensive, it was embarrassing to watch his less-than-adept handling of the utensils, and his rambling conversation
left much to be desired. Between Beth and Rafael there was an unfriendly, tense silence.
With relief Beth at last sought the privacy of the wagon where she slept at night. But after tossing for some time and finding herself wakeful and restive after a day spent in the close confines of the coach, she slipped on the pale green robe of printed satin that Charity had left lying on the foot of the makeshift bed and climbed down gracefully from the wagon.
The camp was quiet except for the faint crackle of the dying fire and soft noises of the horses and oxen as they moved restlessly about. Everyone seemed to be asleep except for two men sitting near the remains of the fire, and Beth could make out the outline of a third as he stood guard near the coach. Rafael was nowhere in sight. Mindful of the fact that it wouldn't be wise to wander far, Beth hesitated and then couldn't resist a short walk to the waterfall just out of sight of the camp.
The moon was barely half full, but there was enough light to guide her. She reached the waterfall and, standing by it, listening to the soft splash the water made as it tumbled over the rocks before falling into the pool near her feet, she was filled with a sense of peace and tranquillity.
It didn't last. She had just reached out and cupped a handful of the sweet water to taste when Rafael's voice made her whirl about.
He was leaning negligently against a tree, his sombrero brim hiding the expression in the gray eyes, but the moonlight clearly revealed the mocking slant to his mouth.
"You didn't really think I was going to let you escape me this easily, did you, English?"
Beth hesitated, not certain of his mood. He didn't appear angry, and yet there was a note in his voice that she distrusted. But, exhausted by the struggle within herself, she had nothing left to fight him with and merely shrugged her shoulders, saying quietly, "No...but I hoped you would see the folly in our continued association. Nothing good can come from it, surely you can see that?"
He smiled a dangerously attractive smile and pushed 267
himself away from the tree in one, hthe, easy movement. Tipping back the rim of his sombrero with a finger, his eyes traveled over her body with a blatant sensuality. ''Oh, I wouldn't say that, sweetheart, I can think of a lot of good things that could happen between us... have happened between us."
The innuendo was not lost on Beth, and her soft mouth hardened. It was difficult to remain cool, difficult to control the sudden blinding urge to throw caution to the winds and release all her inner guilty frustration and turmoil by flinging herself at him, scratching and clawing. Oh, what satisfaction it would give her to knock that mocking smile from his jp^ce, she thought fiercely, and unconsciously one of her bands curved into a small, determined fist.
Rafael saw the involuntary movement and his smile widened provokingly. Walking nearer to her, he said softly, 'T wouldn't if I were you, English. Touch me and we both know what will happen."
Beth swallowed, wishing he weren't so close to her, wishing she weren't so shamefully aware of the attraction of that long, warm body. She stepped back nervously and felt the cool edge of rock behind her. Trapped, rock to her back and Rafael in front of her, she held her chin up belligerently and, striving for a calmness she didn't feel, murmured, "I don't think we have anything further to discuss. So if you will just step aside, I'll return to my bed."
''Alone?" he taunted.
It was then that she smelled the faint hint of whiskey on his breath, and, ignoring his question, she asked tightly, "Are you drunk too?"
He shook his head. "Hardly! Unlike your husband, I know how to hold my liquor. But I will confess that in the absence of more animated company, I have consoled myself with a very adequate liquid stimulus."
Beth flushed at the reference to Nathan. Heatedly she retorted, "You are drunk!"
"No. Your husband is drunk," Rafael returned coolly, a glitter of amusement in the gray eyes. "I have possibly imbibed more than I should have before calling upon a lady, but no, I am not drunk."
Rafael spoke the truth. He would never do anything so foolish as to get drunk on the trail. But it was true that he had consumed more whiskey than was perhaps wise under their present conditions. But even drunk he would still be more in command and control of himself than Nathan, and the condition he was in now only made him more reckless than usual, less cautious, infinitely more dangerous His earlier anger had evaporated, leaving in its place a strange vulnerability that he would have destroyed if the liquor hadn't blunted the i
ron command he kept on himself. But Beth was more potent than any liquor could ever be for him and, not even conscious that he did it, Rafael reached out and lightly traced the side of her face with the fingers of one hand. "You are very beautiful, English. So beautiful that I..." He stopped abruptly, the gray eyes searching hers intently as if he sought an answer to some dilemma within their violet depths.
The gentle touch of his hand on her cheek was a sweet agony, and her body trembled with the force of the emotions he evoked. Beth knew she should break the growing intimacy between them, knew she should slap his hand away, but she was caught in the spell of his powerful masculinity. Weakly she began, "Rafael, please..." But his mouth was already descending and the words died in her throat.
He had never kissed her quite this way before, and it was as if the whiskey had banished the hard, sarcastic man she knew so well and unknowingly revealed the gentle lover he kept so deeply submerged. There was a wealth of tenderness in his kiss as his mouth gently moved on hers, and helplessly Beth felt all her opposition vanish, her body seeking his comfort and warmth, her slim arms locking hungrily around his neck.
They were lost to the world around them, Rafael drinking deeply of the sweetness that Beth was giving freely, Beth accepting the ecstasy of being in his arms once more. His mouth was a soft flame as his lips clung to hers, his hands pulling her closer to him until she could feel the hard, insistent -urgency of the growing desire within him.
Her body shuddered against his, the painful ache for 269
fulfillment that he had aroused and could assuage so effortlessly coiling in her loins, her breasts suddenly feeling full and yearning for the touch of his mouth. As if knowing instinctively what she wanted, Rafael unhurriedly pushed aside the silk robe and freed one white breast, his lips closing gently around the upthrusting coral nipple. Beth gave a small moan of pleasure, her head falling back against the rocks as she arched her body up nearer to his, wanting him and what he was doing against her will.
Louisiana 08 - While Passion Sleeps Page 27
