even if it meant she was once again spitting abuse at him and fighting with him.
That night, long after the last whale-oil lamp had been extinguished and the last servant had sought out his quarters, as he lay sleepless in his bed, Rafael knew that he couldn't leave without having a private word with Beth. There were things that needed to be said between them, and this was as good a time as any. They were alone in the house except for Senora Lopez, and she was a heavy sleeper and half deaf in the bargain, so it was unlikely that any argument he and Beth had would be overheard.
Slipping naked from his bed, he shrugged on a wine-red silk robe and knotted the tasseled belt loosely about his lean waist. He considered dressing completely, but dismissed it. What he had to say to Beth wouldn't take long.
Beth too had found sleep elusive, and she was fighting against the tempting oblivion that the laudanum would give her. The past few nights she had managed to sleep without its soothing properties and she had hoped she was no longer dependent upon it. Not so, she decided gloomily when she finally gave up and had vacated her tangled bed, the rumpled sheets and blankets proof of her twistings and turnings.
It was a pleasant night, the air cool but not chilly, and, crossing to the double doors that led to the little balcony which overlooked the creek, Beth stepped out onto the balcony, drinking in the calming silence of the night. She was wearing a soft, diaphanous nightgown in the palest pink imaginable, and the full moon shining overhead outlined the slender whiteness of her body, the rosy nipples of her small breasts obvious through the sheerness of the delicate material, the slim hips and the lovely legs—all silhouetted by the moonlight. The moon turned the fair hair that tumbled down her back into pure silver and kissed the shadowy V where her breasts nestled. The gown was sleeveless, and her bare arms and fine features took on a silvery hue from the moonlight as she stood on the balcony staring blindly into space.
Rafael tapped softly on her door, but Beth, lost in ^ 351
her own unhappy thoughts, didn't hear his knock. Standing in the hallway, Rafael frowned and briefly considered returning to his own rooms. But something stronger than convention was riding him, and so, giving in to a nameless urge to see her once again, he opened the door and walked into the moonlit room.
The sound of the door shutting behind him was the first inkling that Beth had that Rafael was in her room. Startled that anyone would enter her rooms unannounced and at this hour of the night, she whirled around, her heart thumping madly in her breast when she recognized the tall, dark figure striding toward her.
The moonlight behind her gave Rafael an unobstructed view of her slender loveliness, hiding nothing of her lovely limbs and body, and the sudden fierce desire that shot through his body drove every thought but one from his mind. A man of deep primitive passions, he had neither the inclination nor the willpower to stop his body from throbbing and hardening with instant sexual arousal.
Beth watched his approach with wide, half-wary eyes, the moonlight making them deep, velvety pools of purple. She wanted to run, she wanted to scream, and yet she also wanted, with an intensity that frightened her, to stand exactly where she was and let the passion so clearly defined on Rafael's dark face envelop them both.
He halted a few feet from her, his face a contrast of silver and black—the haughty, soaring eyebrows were black as always, the arrogant nose silver, the wide reckless mouth with its frankly sensual curve silver too, in the light of the moon. The wine-red robe was dark, so dark in the moonlight that its color was barely guessed at. The V which formed where it met almost at his waist reflected back gleaming silvery skin, but no light penetrated the blue-black hair, and it remained dark, dark as midnight.
They stared wordlessly at one another, and, knowing that if she didn't break the silence she would be lost, Beth demanded with a sudden spurt of temper, "What do you mean by entering my room at this hour of the night? Have you gone mad?"
Rafael smiled, merely a twist of his lips with no 352
humor in it. "Probably. But I wanted to speak with you before I left in the morning, and as you don't rise at dawn, this seemed as good a time as any." His face sardonic, he added, "You do know that Fm leaving for several weeks in the morning?"
Beth nodded, suddenly filled with an anguish she had no business feeling. And the guilt and remorse that Nathan's death had caused flooded through her body, inflaming her to the point of near-madness, as she reminded herself furiously that Rafael Santana's movements had nothing to do with her, and that if she'd never met him none of this would have happened— Nathan would be alive, not dead and buried, killed by a Comanche lance in the back. It was all his fault, she thought with the twisted logic of someone half insane with grief and guilt, and, venting all her anger within herself, all the guilt that ate like a canker in her breast, she spat, "Yes! And for all I care you can go to hell!"
Those were shocking words for her to utter, but her thoughts were so jumbled, so incoherent, that the words sprang from her lips before she could stop them. Rafael's presence in her room was like a spark to all the smoldering guilt and remorse that had lain in her breast these past weeks, and uncaringly, actually hating him at the moment, she said recklessly, "Have you come to gloat, senor? Now that my husband is dead, do you think that I am helpless against the likes of you?" Her voice rising with increasing hysteria, she cried, "Well, think again, you black-hearted devil! I have nothing to say to you, not now, not at any time! And if you're not out of my room in the next instant, I'll... I'll..." She stopped, her mind going blank as she searched for the vilest thing she could do to him.
^Tou'll do what?" Rafael inquired softly. "Shoot me? Stab me?" His eyes on her soft mouth, he whispered, "Or love me to death?" as he swept her into his arms.
His mouth was hungry on hers, and the feel of that barely clad body against the thin barrier of his robe was nearly more than Rafael could bear. Urgently his lips parted hers and his tongue filled her mouth, demanding a response as deep and driving as the one that coursed through his body.
For one mad, wild moment Beth gave into it, drowning in the sensuous thrusting of his tongue and the pleasurable pain of being crushed once again in those strong arms. She could feel his arousal, it was there hard against her stomach, almost with a life of its own as the heat and size of it nudged her eagerly. But with a small cry of fury she broke from his arms and, with her eyes spitting sparks of violet fire, she said hotly, *'How can you dare? My husband not dead but two weeks and, and...!" Her breasts heaving with emotion, she suddenly voiced the thought that she had never admitted to. 'Tou wanted him dead!" she accused. "You did! You did! You even said so that dreadful day!" Losing her temper completely she flew at him, her small fists striking his face and chest, the tears that had never surfaced before beginning to flood her eyes. "You wanted him dead!" she cried over and over again. 'You did!"
Rafael was considerably bigger and far stronger than Beth, but her fury gave her strength that surprised them both, and she managed to land several painful and bruising blows on his face and neck before he was able to subdue her. Finally, though, both of them breathing heavily, he held her in front of him, both her wrists captured in his hands.
She glared up at him rebelliously, the sheen of tears not yet shed giving her eyes a luminous glow. Staring down into the lovely flushed features, Rafael admitted harshly, "I wanted him out of your life! Not necessarily dead!"
"Why?" she flashed. "So that you could make me your mistress? Did you really think I would be such an easy conquest?" Like quicksilver she suddenly slipped fi-om his grasp and, looking up at him, she said in a voice shaking with outrage, "Never! Never, never, never! Do you hear me? I hate you! I hate you and Vd die before rd let your dirty Comanche hands touch me!" It was the worst thing she could have said to him, but she was driven by devils that Rafael couldn't even guess at and she was hurting herself as much as she was hurting him, one part of her standing back and staring, appalled, at the creature before him.
His expres
sion remained unchanged and, suddenly 354
goaded beyond reason, Beth swung at him, the open palm of her hand striking him sharply across the mouth and cheek. Rafael regarded her for one moment longer, and then with deliberate intention he struck her. Not as hard as he could have, but hard enough so that Beth's head snapped back on her neck, the sound of the slap ringing out like a pistol shot in the room.
The imprint of his hand was a stinging red scar on her pale cheek, and with a small, broken whimper Beth ran from him and flung herself face down on the bed— the sobs, the tears, the crying that had not fallen when Nathan died or when he was buried suddenly unleash-' ing like a broken dam. She cried for a long time, and Rafael, his passion gone, his face empty, watched her until he could stand it no longer.
Not a gentle man or a tender one, he was all of those things when, at last unable to bear the sight of her distress, he sank down on the bed beside her and gathered her sobbing, shaking form into his arms. For timeless seconds they clung to each other, Beth crying all the bitter, guilty tears that had been locked inside of her and Rafael gently and tenderly holding her in his arms, his mouth brushing the bright hair that tickled his chin, his hands lightly and tenderly caressing her arms and shoulders, and all the while murmuring soft words of comfort, perhaps even unknowingly words of love.
Gradually the tears were spent and Beth was left weak and exhausted, her tear-damp cheek leaning against the warm wall of Rafael's bare chest. She was empty inside, all the anguish she had kept tamped down finally having been expelled, leaving her with nothing but an aimless, lonely future. And as coherent thought came creeping back into her brain, she suddenly became conscious of the intimacy between her and Rafael.
They were lying together on her bed, his arms holding her loosely, her face pressed to his chest where his robe parted, and one of his hands was lightly (and at the moment impersonally) caressing her hip and thigh, just a light touch but one that, now that she was aware of it, seemed to burn like a flame through the thinness of her scanty nightgown. His other hand was gently
moving over her head and shoulders, pushing back the tumbled heavy swathe of thick, silvery hair, his mouth pressing soft, comforting kisses on her temple and forehead. She lay very still, wanting to treasure this moment and keep it forever—-she was in his arms and he was showing her all the tenderness and gentleness, all the care and comfort any woman could ever wish for.
Just when he stopped comforting her, just when the touch became more than impersonal, Beth would always remember. She looked up into his face, intending to apologize for her loss of control, but the expression in the gray eyes staring intently into hers took her breath away and made her h^rt begin to beat with thick, almost paralyzing strokes. Mesmerized, she stared back up at his dark, lean face, loving the way his heavy black eyebrows curved sardonically over those gray eyes and the crease that appeared in each cheek when he smiled.
Rafael wasn't smiling now, though—he was memorizing the lovely delicate features before him. Beth was one of those fortunate women whose beauty was enhanced by tears rather than diminished. Her eyes were a clear, luminous violet; the golden-brown lashes, spiky from the tears, made her look like a wide-eyed kitten; her cheeks were tinted a soft rosy hue; and her mouth was a temptation that no man could resist, the ruby lips slightly swollen and even more inviting. With an effort Rafael tore his gaze from them, but his eyes slipped lower to where the V of her gown met the small valley between her breasts, her pink-tipped nipples thrusting proudly against the nearly transparent material—and he knew he wouldn't be able to put her from him.
He did try, but it seemed evers^thing was against him. She was soft and warm in his arms, and when he reluctantly eased away from her, more of her charms were revealed by the not-so-modest nightgown—the lovely line of her hips and the slender shapeliness of her thighs were clearly seen through the misty material. Like a beggar in a countinghouse, he stared at the slim body so tantalizingly displayed, his eyes stopping for an endless moment at the junction of those white
b
thighs as he stared fixedly at the barely discernible triangle of golden hair that grew there. With a groan he gathered her back against him, his mouth compulsively seeking hers, his touch not the least bit impersonal any longer.
The other times that Rafael had made love to her there had been an element of violence about it, but not tonight. Tonight he was the exciting dream lover that every woman yearns for, his touch an exquisite caress like nothing else in the world.
Despite the urgency of his own body, Rafael took his time, his hands slowly but determinedly removing the flimsy scrap of nightwear that clouded all the beauties of Beth's body from his hungry eyes. And Beth, almost hypnotized by the naked desire in the gray eyes, made no move to stop him, her body arching up, begging for the touch of his dark hand against her pale skin.
But he didn't touch her immediately. Instead, lifting his head, he stared at the small fragile body before him, the small breasts swollen with passion, the enticing curve of the slim waist, the white, white skin of her flat stomach and the slender thighs. She was incredibly desirable to him, her body an alabaster-and-pink altar that he paid homage to, his own body hardening and tightening with delicious hunger to feel himself lost again in the hot, satiny sheath of her.
He bent his head, his warm mouth finding a pink begging nipple, his tongue curling caressingly around it, his teeth gently nipping and tasting it while his hand gently cupped the other breast, his thumb rhythmically sliding across it, causing Beth to gasp with sudden shocking pleasure. With a little cry of encouragement she reached for him, but her fingers only met the springy darkness of his head. That seemed to satisfy her for the moment, her fingers reveling in the feel of that thick blue-black hair. But it wasn't enough as Rafael's mouth swung back up to hers, his tongue sweetly ravaging her mouth, his lips pressing urgently against hers, and her hands slipped to his shoulders, pushing away the silken robe that covered him.
Not taking his lips from hers, Rafael shrugged out of the robe, but his hands were too busy to bother with
the knotted belt, and against her mouth he breathed, "Untie it, I want nothing between us."
Beth hesitated, then, driven by the same hunger that ate at Rafael, her fingers sought the knot and deftly undid it and the robe fell to the bed, leaving him naked and warm next to her. But she didn't stop there. Emboldened with a sensual courage that overcame her usual inhibitions, she slid her hand across his taut stomach, shivering with pleasure when he groaned and lightly bit her neck.
RafaeFs hands were exploring her body intimately, his long fingers slipping down her back, his hands curving possessively about her fiirni buttocks, pulling her closer. His mouth seemed everywhere, on her lips, her shoulders, her breasts, and Beth was nearly trembling with the force of the passion he evoked, wanting his hard body on hers with a fierce intensity.
Brashly she began her own exploration, wanting to discover what made this man the one man who could make her lose control of herself and turn her into a wanton creature who only wanted his body to possess hers. Brazenly her hands traveled down the smooth, muscled chest, delighted with the heavy satin feel of it, but not content with that, one hand slid lower until at last her trembling fingers closed around him. The size and heat of him brought a surprised little moan of excitement from her lips, and almost convulsively her hand tightened around him, giving Rafael such a jolt of pleasure that for one agonizing second he was afraid it was all over for him.
In a shaken voice he murmured, "Sweet Jesus, English! Don't touch me yet! I am too full of wanting you."
But Beth was in the grip of sensual discovery and she wanted desperately to continue discovering what made a man's body so very different from a woman's, and gently, her fingers caressed the throbbing pulsating length of him, excited that she could touch him this way and that her untutored movements gave him as much pleasure as his experienced hand did her.
It was too much for Rafael to endure, and with
a muffled groan he jerked himself away from her, gazing down into her wondering face with eyes that were nearly
black with emotion. ''Don't!" he said thickly, "unless you want me to spill myself on you instead of in you!"
The words gave her a feeling of triumph, and she was aroused even further to know that she could make him lose complete control of himself, that with her hands she could drive him as wild as he did her. A small satisfied smile curving her mouth, she arched her body up against him, her nipples like twin peaks of fire burning against his chest, and deliberately, her eyes locked on his, she reached for him again.
His body jumped when she touched him, and whatever restraint he had placed on himself vanished, his mouth closing with a punishing demand on hers, its very urgency and hunger making Beth forget this new-tantalizing game she had discovered. Like a famished creature he fed on her mouth, bruising the soft lips, but Beth returned the kiss just as passionately, her newfound sensuality leading her on to new territories as hesitantly she thrust her tongue into his mouth.
Her tongue was like a small, darting flame and, finding that Rafael was making no attempt to reverse things, she continued her eager, excited exploration of his mouth, inflaming herself as much as she did Rafael. Enchanted with this new aspect of lovemaking, she closed both of her hands around his face, her small hands resting gently against his cheeks as she kissed him even more deeply.
There was no way that Beth could tell him what intriguing, fascinating things she was discovering this night. He would never believe that she had never kissed a man this way, never explored a man's body like this and had never felt the soft-skinned hardness of a man's member. It was intoxicating to her, and, almost heady with the discoveries she had made, she let the hot tide of passion sweep over her, holding nothing back, ready to go wherever Rafael's caresses would lead her.
Louisiana 08 - While Passion Sleeps Page 36
