Lorilla looked down and saw that she had lifted her hand as if for a kiss. She lowered it quickly, then darted a glance around the room, thankful that no one had witnessed her daydream.
Quickly undressing, Lorilla rummaged in her bag until she found the soft flannel gown she had bought with the last of her egg money. It was long sleeved, with tiny buttons all the way down the front. She laid it carefully on the table, then slipped out of her underclothes and stepped into the bath.
"Ahh," she sighed, as her foot sank into the hot, clean water. Her body began to shiver as she sank into the hot water. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back as the warmth flowed through her. But soon, mindful of how quickly the water would cool, she picked up a cloth and the bar of soap.
After sniffing appreciatively at the delicate scent, she quickly worked up a lather. As she washed and rinsed her body, it seemed as though pounds of dust and grime melted away from her. The soap was the finest she had ever touched. To her skin, the difference between it and the lye soap she had always used could not be expressed in words.
By the time she finished bathing, the warm water had sapped what little strength she'd had. Her limbs felt boneless, and her eyes kept drifting shut.
A noise at the door roused her. "Josepha?" she said. "You may have to help me out of the bath. My bones have turned to jelly."
A deep chuckle sounded behind her. It was Gabriel. "Josepha's gone to bed. I think I can handle you," he said.
Lorilla gasped and a thrill ran up her spine. She peered over her shoulder and met his blue gaze. He had apparently bathed as well, because his black hair was damp and slicked back from his forehead. His face was newly shaven and he wore a floor-length dark blue robe belted at his lean waist. A few droplets of water glistened on the exposed skin of his chest. Lorilla found the water droplets fascinating. She watched one drop as it traveled from his collarbone down until it disappeared beneath the robe.
"Senora?"
Her gaze flashed to his, and she knew that he knew where she was looking. She blushed. "What...what are you doing in here?"
He smiled lazily as he stepped closer. "These are my rooms."
"Oh, of course. But, I'm not dressed. Could you, um…"
"Leave?" He shook his head, his smile fading. "No."
He kept coming. Desperately, Lorilla reached for one of the towels, but Gabriel plucked it from right under her fingertips. He unfolded it and held it up in front of him, like a bullfighter taunting a bull.
"Come, Chiquita. I'll dry you off."
"But I…" Lorilla's face and neck burned. She could hardly breathe. She knew vaguely what was expected of her, but for the life of her she didn't know how she would survive it. His mere presence confused her; his touch ignited something deep inside her. How could she stand anything more?
"Come on, Chiquita. It's getting late and I'm tired, as I am sure you are. Or have you decided I'm not equal to the task?"
"The task?"
"The task of lifting you out of the bath."
"Oh." She laughed nervously, folding her arms over her breasts. "I was joking. I can do it myself."
"Very well. Go ahead."
Peering over her shoulder, Lorilla met his intense gaze. She swallowed. It was worth a try. She forced a smile to her lips. "Give me the towel?"
He shook his head, a glimmer of amusement lighting his eyes. "No. Stand up and I'll wrap you in it."
His voice was low, rumbling like distant thunder. Thunder that could lull one to sleep or suddenly burst into a violent storm.
Something in his eyes, in the easy grace of his stance, reassured her. At the same time, an odd excitement was building within her, as if she were about to partake of some forbidden pleasure.
"I don't know if I can do this," she murmured. She had never stood in front of another human being less than fully clothed. Now she was being told to expose her naked body to a stranger's gaze.
Gabriel stepped closer. "Of course you can," he said softly. "It's time."
She gripped the sides of the tub, took a long breath, and stood. Her face burned like fire as she felt the shocking touch of the air on her wet back, hips, and legs. But more devastating than the chill of the air against her naked skin was the heat of Gabriel's gaze.
Then hard strength cushioned by soft cloth enveloped her. She closed her eyes and let him take her weight. His arms became a strong haven. As if in a daze, she let her tired body lean against his.
"Careful, Chiquita," he murmured. "So you were serious then?"
"Serious?"
"About your bones turning to jelly?"
"Jelly? Mmm . . .." Lorilla's knees were turning to jelly now, but not from the hot water. "I'm sorry. I'm just so very tired."
He turned her around, bath towel and all. Lorilla knew she was covered, but the idea that only one layer of cloth separated her body from his gaze terrified and intrigued her. She trembled.
"So I see. I'll put you to bed."
Lorilla blinked several times and peered up at him. His head was bent slightly and he watched her with an unfathomable expression. Her tongue darted out to lick her lower lip.
Gabriel's hands tightened and pulled her full length against him, his warmth enveloping her more sensuously than the warm bath. His body was hard, unyielding, beneath the robe. She felt like warm clay, waiting to be molded by his hands. "Lorilla, you promised me something earlier."
"I did?"
"Yes. With your lips. With your tongue. You came here to be my wife. You know what that means."
Lorilla nodded, although she had only the vaguest notion.
With a mutter that could have been a curse or a prayer, Gabriel swept her off her feet and carried her through the sitting room and into the bedroom. The room was dark and lit with candles, but Lorilla was hardly aware of the furnishings. All she could think of, all she could feel, was him.
He lay her on the bed, towel and all, then untied the sash at his waist and let his robe fall to the floor.
The warmth of the bath had lulled her eyelids into drooping, but the sight of Gabriel's naked body planed by candlelight swiftly banished her drowsiness. The sense of forbidden pleasure shot upward like a bird in flight as she stared shamelessly at him.
His body was like an unexplored landscape. Lorilla had taken care of three younger half-brothers, but she had never dreamed there could be this much difference in a child and a man.
Gabriel Beltran was a man. His broad shoulders and sharply muscled chest and arms were like a statue, seemingly cut from granite. A sprinkling of hair darkened his chest. Lorilla's gaze followed the trail of dark hair down to his flat belly and lower, where it spread again to frame his… "Oh, my," she gasped.
Gabriel lay on the bed, propping himself up on one elbow. He smoothed her hair back from her face.
"I…" Lorilla began, as Gabriel's fingers traced the line of her jaw. "You, I had no idea you would be…" Words failed her as his body loomed over hers.
"That I would be what? Mexican?" His dark brows lowered ominously. His eyes changed to the color of a stormy sky as he stared at her. "I was under the impression you knew of my family. My mother was American. My father was the descendent of a Spanish lord."
Lorilla heard the suppressed anger in his voice. She had unintentionally offended him. "Oh, no --"
"I assure you, Senora, my family is of the finest lineage."
Lorilla shook her head, intimidated by his cold words. "I didn't mean that," she whispered, wanting to tear her gaze away from his stormy eyes, but unable to. "I thought you would be--old," she finished with a shrug.
To her surprise, he laughed, although his face hardly changed.
"Ah," he said. "Old. You were afraid I would be too old?" He deliberately let his gaze drift down her length, then back up to her eyes. "Have no fears, Senora. My intentions have already been made clear to you. I can assure that you will not find my abilities lacking."
Lorilla nodded drowsily. Despite his compelling presence, despite
the knowledge that he could do anything he wanted with her and she would be powerless to stop him, her eyelids drooped. She had been on the road for five months, and this day had been a very long one. She was exhausted. She yawned. "I'm sorry. I'm so tired."
Gabriel drew away and looked down at her. "I see. Apparently you are neither intimidated nor aroused by me. I think I understand. I too am tired. Perhaps we should rest. Morning will come soon enough."
He pulled the covers over himself and her, then turned toward her. "Turn over," he whispered, urging her with a hand on her shoulder.
Mystified, Lorilla turned her back to him. He put an arm around her waist from the back and pulled her into the curve of his body, towel and all.
Lorilla's sleep-drugged mind was aware of what he had done. Her exhausted body absorbed the heat of his and she shifted, to find the most comfortable position. Behind her, a sleepy growl and a sudden hardening of his muscles indicated that Gabriel had felt her move. His fingers curled against her abdomen, just under the curve of her breast, and his low voice rumbled in her ears.
"Try to lie still, Chiquita. For my sake and your own."
She fell asleep, wrapped in his embrace.
h
CHAPTER FOUR
Lorilla awoke slowly, awareness growing as she emerged from a dreamless sleep. The first thing she noticed was the firm arms enveloping her and sensuous warm breath against her nape.
Gabriel. Her husband.
She lay, eyes closed, savoring the strange, wonderful feelings. How had her body already become acquainted with his? It already felt right to lie against him, to be held by him. Without moving her head, she let her gaze drift to the window. It was still dark outside. Not nearly time to rise. Taking a long breath, she pressed herself just a bit more into the protective curve of Gabriel's body and let her eyes drift shut again.
She was married. A smile touched her lips even as a whisper of apprehension slid down her spine. She understood, in some deep primal way, that she still had much to learn about marriage. But just being here, having survived five months on the trail, made her feel triumphant. Whatever lay in store for her, it could hardly be worse than what she had left behind. The priest said Gabriel was a good man. A tiny voice in her head reminded her that Ray's neighbors called Ray a good man also.
Sighing, she tucked a hand under her head and prepared to go back to sleep. Just as she was about to drift off, Gabriel stirred behind her, and Lorilla felt his entire body go tense and hard against her. At the same time, his hand spread wide on her belly and gentle pressure urged her to turn onto her back.
With her heart in her throat, she turned. As she did, Gabriel propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at her.
"Is it morning already?" she whispered, awed by the intensity in his gaze, acutely aware of his thigh along the length of hers.
"It's very early. There's plenty of time before the household stirs," he replied, his gaze roaming over her hair, her face, her shoulders. A smile softened the sharp planes of his face and his eyes seemed softer in the dim light of pre-dawn.
"Plenty of time?" She bit her lip.
He moved his hand and Lorilla gasped, but all he did was reach behind her head feeling for the comb that held her hair coiled loosely. He released the comb and pushed his fingers through the tangles of her hair, spreading it across the pillow. She couldn't take her eyes off his face. She had already seen that her husband was a handsome man. Now, she realized just how beautiful his features were. The dark slash of his brows, the hawk-like nose, the mobile mouth. Her fingers curled as she resisted the temptation to trace the line of his jaw.
"Rilla," he whispered.
Her gaze returned to his as, with a gentle insistence, he wrapped his fingers in her hair, and slipped his other arm behind her.
Lacing his fingers through her hair, he tugged on one tendril, letting it twine around his fingers. He pulled it over her shoulder, seeming fascinated with the fat, reddish-gold curl. He released it and it fell over her breast, where the towel barely covered her. His finger followed its length until he touched the swell of her breast. Carefully, slowly, as Lorilla watched his face in fascination and fear, he pushed the towel away.
Then he cupped her breast in his warm hand, wrapping his fingers around the soft, sensitive mound of flesh. Lorilla gasped as a thrill shot through her insides. His thumb moved over her nipple and she felt it all the way down to her deepest core. Reflexively, she put her palms against his chest and felt it rise and fall with his deep steady breathing.
Gabriel's fingers left her breast and traced the contours of her neck up to her jaw, then her ear. She shivered involuntarily, and his expression changed, became sober.
"Gabriel?"
"Yes," he murmured. Then he caught her jaw in a gentle grip and bent his head. His lips sought hers, and claimed them.
Oh, God, it was just like before. His hot mouth on hers, his tongue darting out to urge her mouth open. And the feelings, oh the feelings. Lorilla felt overwhelmed, frightened, excited, as if she were losing control of her body.
His hair fell across her cheek like a silk scarf, as he angled his mouth over hers. He smelled like soap and wood and fresh air.
Lifting his head, he and stared into her eyes for a brief moment. "Are you ready?"
For what? She wanted to scream, but equal measures of fear and yearning fluttered in her breast, stealing her ability to talk. She nodded, and waited to see what her husband would do next.
GABRIEL BELTRAN STARED into the wide green eyes of his new wife. She was a lovely woman, with hair the color of the sunset, and eyes that put emeralds to shame. He'd been surprised and not entirely pleased. He had not even considered that the woman he hired to bear his heir would be attractive. Lorilla was younger than he'd expected too, with a wide-eyed innocence that was very convincing.
Damn her. Why was she playing with him, like some innocent virgin allowing a stolen kiss? He'd chosen her precisely because of her experience. He had laid out his specific requirements in the letters he'd sent to those who had responded to his advertisement. He had no time, nor inclination, to woo an unwilling partner.
He expected a certain amount of shyness in the beginning. After all, they'd known each other for less than a day. But he was bemused by Lorilla's awkward responses to his lovemaking.
A black thought occurred to him. She was not attracted to him. Well, that was too bad. She'd known the terms of the marriage, and she would abide by them. He had never taken a woman by force and he never would. But Madre de Dios, he had paid a lot of money to this woman to bear his child, and he would insist that she abide by her side of the agreement.
Almost angrily, he kissed her again, this time pushing his tongue between her teeth the way he'd wanted to do ever since he'd first seen her. She opened for him, and his body tightened in immediate response to her yielding.
Her mouth was sweet, her tongue darting lightly, teasingly around his. He thrust his fingers into her thick hair and held her there, immobile, while he kissed her as thoroughly and long as he'd wanted to since the first moment he saw her, in the jeweled sunlight of the church.
By the time he raised his head again, she was panting and her eyes shone with tears.
"Gabriel, I'm --" she stammered softly.
He hushed her with kisses, and slid his hand down her arm. She was firm and smooth, her limbs lightly muscled. When his fingers drifted back over to tease the distended tip of her breast, she gasped, sucking air from his mouth, and her body tensed, then relaxed just a bit. Enough for him to notice.
Ah, she only needed some petting. His desire was rising, fueled by her very slowness to respond. The woman knew how to tantalize a man. Gabriel let his hand roam further, caressing her ribcage, noting her narrow waist then the swell of her hips. Her concave stomach was tautly muscled, unusual in a woman who had born a child.
He stopped, his hand splayed over her stomach, his head resting in the hollow of her shoulder. He was so ready he feared what
would happen if he didn't slow down.
Another surprise. He had entered into this enterprise with his usual single-minded determination, examining all the possibilities before deciding on the most expedient way to assure an heir. Then he'd taken the steps to make it happen. It had never occurred to him that this widow, who had already born and lost a child, would be so young or so appealing.
Lorilla smelled of the same scent that had always pervaded this house, the delicate flowery odor of the French soap his mother had used, then his wife. Gabe shook his head, ridding himself of thoughts of Elena. At the same time, Lorilla's hand crept up around his neck, her fingers shyly toying with the hair at his nape.
He drew in a ragged breath and let his lips explore the hollow of her neck. Another quiet gasp rewarded his efforts. He moved his hand lower and felt her legs tighten.
"Has it been a long time, chiquita?" he whispered. "Just relax. I will not disappoint you." He ran his tongue along her collarbone, then moved lower, to take the point of one breast in his mouth. At the same time he began to caress her in earnest, touching, rubbing, coaxing her body to ease the way.
Lorilla moaned, and with satisfaction, he felt her hands press his head into her breast. He laved and suckled, drawing the tip in, then letting it go, then in again, until it was tight and throbbing with reaction. He moved his fingers lightly, caressingly, and her breathing escalated.
Carefully, slowly, Gabe delved into her with one cautious finger. Her body arched, whether in desire or in shock, he wasn't sure. But his ministrations had not been in vain. The way was wet and slick.
He took her mouth in a sweet, torturous parody of lovemaking. "Ready?" he whispered.
"Oh, Gabriel?" she breathed as he urged her knees apart. Raising himself above her, Gabe slid into her.
And stopped.
His head whipped up. His heart thundered. He cursed softly in Spanish.
The Christmas Treasure Page 3
