During the day, Lorilla followed Josepha around, begging her for something to do until finally, Josepha relented. She explained to Lorilla all about the running of the hacienda. The rancho was like a small town. Lorilla was amazed at the number of people who lived and worked there. There was Benito, Josepha's husband, who handled the horses, and their two children, Maria Joseph, who helped her mother with the housework, and young Jesus, who worked with his father in the stables. Another couple took care of the grounds, and there were at least a dozen hired hands.
Once Josepha accepted that Lorilla truly wanted to stay busy, she was delighted to hand over the responsibility to her. It was right, she told her, for the Patrona to run the household. Lorilla loved the idea of being Patrona. Her days were filled with satisfying work, and she had already gotten to know all the household staff. They treated her with a friendly deference, which was different from anything she'd ever known before. There was curiosity in their friendliness but also respect. Lorilla thought she could enjoy having the respect of the people who surrounded her.
Josepha spent one entire morning painstakingly going over the household accounts with her. At daylight, Lorilla thought the job seemed impossible, but by the time Maria Joseph had lunch ready, Lorilla had a fair understanding of the type and amount of supplies it took to run the hacienda for a three-month period. After lunch, Josepha announced to her that she would be responsible for ordering supplies for the next quarter year.
"Oh no, Josepha. No, no, no. I can't do that." Lorilla shook her head in astonishment at the other woman's pronouncement. "Besides, I probably won't…be here…" Her voice faltered. She swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat. She had already begun to think of the rancho as home and Josepha and Maria Joseph as friends.
As she realized this, she also realized she had been fooling herself about Gabriel as well. They ate dinner together in the long dining room, he at the head of the table, she at his right hand. They made small talk, and not much of that, because Gabriel was not one to waste words. But now, staring at the account books and knowing she would probably not be here long enough to see the supplies she would order delivered, Lorilla had to admit she had been daydreaming again.
Her face grew warm as she remembered the imaginary conversations she had invented for herself and Gabriel. She straightened. She just had to face the truth. That's all there was to it. Sometime within the next couple of weeks, the wagon train would be ready to leave Santa Fe on its way east and Gabriel would put her on it and send her back to the man who had deceived them both.
"Lorilla?"
Lorilla blinked at the sound of her name.
"Lorilla? Are you all right?" Josepha placed a hand on her arm.
"What?" Lorilla turned her attention to the little woman. "Sorry, Josepha. I was thinking."
"Si, I could see that." Josepha tugged on Lorilla's arm. "Come. I think it is time to begin your task."
"My task? What task?" Lorilla asked impatiently. "You know, Josepha, I will be leaving. You're just wasting your time teaching me all this. You'll to be back doing it yourself within a few weeks." Her voice was harsh with the emotions she kept in check. She was not going to start feeling sorry for herself. Not now, when she could still enjoy the freedom and the responsibility of being the Patrona. She wanted to savor these last weeks. There would be plenty of time for self-pity later.
"Ah, Senora," Josepha chided, addressing her formally as she no longer did unless she was out of patience with her. "You feel sorry for yourself. But we have not yet begun. Come. There is something I must show you."
Lorilla followed Josepha reluctantly. She was curious about what Josepha had planned, and discovering something new about the hacienda was always exciting, but she couldn't quite shake off her melancholy.
Josepha led her to a storage room near the big kitchen. "In here."
The room was well lit and full of trunks and boxes. Josepha knelt before one of the trunks. "Senora Elena, she always buy the clothes. She send for cloth from Europe, from China, from all over. When she died, she have hundreds of yards of fabric and mucho clothing which she had never worn."
"Josepha," Lorilla said warningly, "what does this have to do with me?"
Josepha's eyes twinkled. "In this trunk are some things which may help you in your quest to give Senor Gabriel what he needs."
Her words recalled the discussion they'd had the morning after her wedding. "No, no, Josepha. You don't understand. Gabriel doesn't, he isn't, we aren't…" she stopped, too embarrassed to continue.
Josepha nodded as she dipped into the depths of the trunk. "I know, Lorilla. I understand. But tonight if you pay attention, that will change."
"What do you mean?"
"Look," Josepha said proudly, holding up a beautiful length of ivory satin, trimmed in cutwork lace.
"Oh, how beautiful!" Lorilla exclaimed. "What is that?"
"It is a negligee. Senora Elena tell me that is French for nightgown."
Lorilla shook her head. "I can't wear Elena's nightclothes. It's not…not…seemly."
"Don't worry. These things she never touched. Never wore. They belong to Senor Beltran."
"All the more reason I cannot wear them. Don't you think they would remind him of her?"
Josepha shook her head. "No. For the simple reason that he never saw them. You forget that I take care of Senora Elena, and believe me, she required much more attention than you do, with your Anglo I-can-do-it-myself attitude."
Lorilla had to smile at Josepha's mocking of her American accent. "Still…"
"Still nothing. Let us see if this fit you. Elena was small, but the sizes, they were never right for her. Always I was having to take things apart and sew them again so they were small enough for her."
"And you're sure Gabriel will not recognize them? He didn't oversee her purchases?"
"Of course not. The only way Senor Gabriel will know is if you tell him and that would not be a good idea. He is a man. He will not ask."
Lorilla reached out and stroked the satin material. "It is beautiful."
"Si, and you will be beautiful in it. Now, Gabriel, he sleeps in his office, no?"
"Yes," Lorilla said, embarrassed.
"That is all right," Josepha said, patting her arm. "We just need to make sure you are alone here in la hacienda tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Si. You are halfway between your monthly cycle, no?"
"Um, yes. Just about exactly. How did you know?"
Josepha waved away her question. "Bueno. Perfect." Josepha held up the gown to Lorilla's shoulders. "I think this will fit nicely, for the short time you should have it on."
"Josepha!"
That night after supper, Gabriel excused himself and went to his office. Josepha had water brought up, and Lorilla bathed and washed her hair, drying it in front of the fireplace. Then, after Benito cleared away the water and towels, Lorilla put the satin gown on. It slid down her body, cool and smooth. Lorilla shivered as the slick cloth reminded her of Gabriel's silky rough skin, and his hands.
She walked down the stairs barefoot, then across the tiled floor to Gabriel's office door. The floor was cold under her feet, and the chill and her nervousness made her tremble. She took a long, shaky breath, looked down at the gown, which draped seductively over her breasts, then turned the handle and opened the door.
At first, all she could see in the dimness of the room was the lamp on Gabriel's desk. She stood with her hand on the doorknob for a moment as her eyes adjusted, then she saw his lean, powerful figure at the windows. He had a brandy snifter in one hand.
"Gabriel?" she said softly.
"Yes?" he answered without turning. "What is it, Lorilla?"
She didn't answer. His back seemed to stiffen as the silence in the room grew longer. Oh, he was a stubborn man.
After a moment, when she saw that he was not going to yield, Lorilla closed the office door behind her and walked toward him. She could hear the faint rustle o
f the satin against her skin, and she knew Gabriel heard it too, because his head inclined, as if he were listening.
Reaching his side, she touched his arm. His muscles tensed under her touch.
He turned. "What is it--" he stopped.
Lorilla swallowed her fear, and stood motionless as Gabriel's gaze raked her.
"What are you doing in here?" he asked tightly.
"Looking for you. You haven't slept in your room for weeks."
"I didn't want to disturb you." He looked her in the eyes for the first time, and Lorilla saw something dark burning in his gaze.
"What do you plan to do with me then, if you're not going to 'disturb' me?" she asked, smiling at him.
He turned away from her and went behind his desk.
She stared at him. He really was retreating behind the safety of his desk, just like young Jeremy. The realization gave Lorilla a sense of power, of strength, she'd never before felt. She did something to Gabriel that she suspected not many people did. She made him uncomfortable.
With an understanding steeped in ancient memory, Lorilla began to feel the power of her womanhood. With it came a confidence that she had never before known. Josepha had known. Josepha had understood what Lorilla could do, if she only would. She sent a silent prayer heavenward that Josepha was not wrong about the man she had raised from a boy.
"Gabriel?"
"Look, Lorilla. You don't know what you're doing. Why don't you go to bed? We can talk in the morning."
"About what? About sending me away? You don't plan to send me away, do you?" she challenged.
Gabriel looked uncomfortable. He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "You are my wife, duly married before a priest. I would be a beast to set you aside."
"So, then. What do you plan to do with me, Senor Beast?" Lorilla walked over to the desk and leaned over, her palms flat on the leather desktop. Her position gave Gabriel a view of her unfettered breasts. Inwardly she cringed, but with a great effort she managed not to turn bright red in embarrassment.
He cursed under his breath and pushed his chair back. He towered over her, arching his brow in that intimidating glower. "Go to bed, Lorilla."
"I asked you a question, Gabriel. If you are not going to send me away, what will you do with me? Do you plan to keep me a virgin for life? Erect statues to my maidenhood? Call worshipers from around the globe?"
"Don't be absurd."
"Absurd? I am here. I am willing. But where are you?"
"Don't do this," he said gruffly. He rubbed his hand over his face. "You don't--"
She came around the desk and stood in front of him, so close she could feel his heat. "But I do. I do know a little." Biting her lip, she put her hands on his chest, feeling the soft cotton of his shirt.
Sliding her hands up, she touched his bare skin at the open shirtfront. "Because of you, I remember being very warm and very excited. I remember you kissing me."
The heady mixture of silky skin and iron-like muscle pulsing with life under her hands made her breath catch.
"Rilla, be careful," he whispered hoarsely.
"I'm tired of being careful, Gabriel. I'm tired of pretending that I am a wife. Please, either make me your wife or send me away."
He closed his eyes and his lips compressed into a thin line. He took a long breath.
Lorilla waited, feeling the strong, fast beat of his heart under her hands. Her own heartbeat sped up, keeping time with his.
Then, with a low growl from deep in his throat, Gabriel grasped her upper arms. Her hands went to his shoulders as he slid his warm hands down her back. He pulled her against him, and she went willingly, molding her nearly naked body to his, fighting for breath. Just his touch already had her panting.
He lowered his head and Lorilla met his kiss. The incredible feeling was there. His mouth moved over hers, his tongue searching, seeking. Lorilla opened her mouth under his tender assault and met his tongue with hers. The intimate touch sent a thrilling shock through her.
Gabriel cradled her head in one hand and kissed her deeply, thoroughly, thrusting with his tongue and then he lifted his head and looked her in the eye. "The first time is not pleasant for a virgin, Rilla. You may hate me."
Lorilla's mouth felt swollen with desire. Her eyelids felt heavy. She could not explain how she knew, but she felt like a woman. "I think I can bear it," she murmured, and reached for his mouth again with hers.
Gabriel swept her into his arms and carried her out of his office and up the stairs to the bedroom. Lorilla snuggled into the shelter of his arms and allowed herself to just feel. Whatever happened in the future, tonight was hers. She was determined to prove Gabriel wrong. She would enjoy this first time.
Gabriel lay her down on the bed, then quickly stripped. When Lorilla saw him, lit by the moonlight and the dozens of candles Josepha must have lit, she gasped aloud. His bronzed body was more magnificent than she remembered. She took in his broad, powerful chest, his narrow waist, the faint line that spoke of hours shirtless in the sun, then below, the evidence of his desire, nestled in a thatch of dark hair.
He lay down beside her on the bed and pulled her to him, to lie along his hard length. Lorilla stretched languidly, her limbs supple with desire, her heart pounding with anticipation. Something began deep within her as Gabriel kissed her again. Something that thrilled her to her very core, something that made her want to open up, like a flower opens to the sun.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, the nun's description of flowers and gardens made sense. Lorilla laughed softly.
Gabriel's eyes darted to hers. "Something amuses you?"
She shook her head. "You won't understand, but something the nuns used to tell me just became clear."
"Oh?" Gabriel seemed stunned. His hand, which had been teasing her breasts, stilled. "Would you care to explain it to me?"
"I'm not sure I can," she whispered, letting her fingers trail through the hair on his chest. "But the sisters tried to explain about…this, using flowers as examples. And I…" she shrugged, "I just realized that I finally understand."
"Ah, yes," he said, dipping his head to take the point of one breast in his mouth.
Lorilla gasped with pleasure.
Then he flattened his palm against her abdomen and began to caress her, moving his hand slowly downward until his fingers curled against her. "It is like a flower, chiquita," he whispered as his fingers worked magic on her body. "There are petals," he said, while his fingers demonstrated and Lorilla's body arched against his hand.
She couldn't stand it if he didn't do something, but he was determined to be slow. She put her hand over his, not even knowing what she wanted to guide him to do but knowing if she didn't move, she would explode.
"But, it takes time for the flower to fully realize its potential." He nipped at her other breast, while his fingers continued their magical exploration. "There are more petals which should open," he said.
His fingers moved more intimately, and her body strained toward some release that she hoped he would soon bring. "And at last," he whispered, moving so his lips were against her ear, "the sun is able to penetrate to the core of the flower."
"Gabriel!" she exclaimed as his fingers dipped into her. She felt liquid, flowing, as if she were honey dripping from a beehive.
"The flower is ready now," he muttered raggedly, "to accept the sun…"
His words faded as he lifted himself over her. He stared at her, a question in his eyes.
Lorilla could hardly breathe. Her entire body felt poised on the brink of incredible ecstasy. All she could do was meet his eyes and nod.
When she did, Gabriel shut his eyes for a brief instant, then looked at her. His hard manhood probed the entrance to her body. She clutched at his shoulders and strained upward to meet him.
Gabriel thrust, then Lorilla felt him meet the barrier and stop.
"Please," she begged, her body tense and throbbing. "Gabriel, please!"
He pushed, and for an instant, there was pain
.
She gasped.
"Rilla?"
"Please. Now."
His eyes flashed with blue flame and he began a rhythmic motion, slowly in, slowly out, then in again.
"Gabriel!" Lorilla couldn't believe the feelings. Each time he pressed into her, each time he pulled away from her, she met him with an answering move. It was as if they danced, in perfect harmony. As if the world and all its pleasure had been designed for them alone.
Gabriel groaned, then he kissed her as his thrusts quickened. Suddenly something happened, and Lorilla felt again as if she would explode.
Gabriel stiffened, then thrust deeply, and she did explode.
She cried.
Gabriel buried his face in the hollow of her shoulder and shuddered.
Slowly, she relaxed, as Gabriel's hot, rapid breaths warmed her neck. She caressed his hair, running her fingers through it, lifting it off his neck where it was damp with sweat. Her heart felt full to bursting. So this was love. Or at least lovemaking. No wonder people married. To have someone with which to share this kind of intimacy would be the closest thing to heaven on earth.
An echo of the thrilling explosion rippled through her. Gabriel raised his head and looked at her, his eyes smoky with satisfaction. "Rilla? Are you all right?"
"Mmm," was all she could manage, but she kissed him softly, languidly, and ran her tongue across his cheek.
He chuckled, and she felt his chest rumble. She placed her palm against his cheek and turned his head so she could see his face. The hard line of his jaw was soft, his mouth was relaxed and smiling. She touched his lips with her fingers. This laugh she could learn to love.
He rolled away from her then pulled her to lie against him.
"So that's what all the fuss was about," she murmured.
"Yes. Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm fine, Gabriel. Was I not um, satisfactory?"
"Senora Beltran, you were more than, 'um, satisfactory.'"
He kissed her temple, then relaxed. Lorilla let her head rest on his shoulder and went to sleep with his arm around her.
Deep in the night, she awoke to find his hands and mouth working their magic on her again. She responded, just as she had the first time, and the result was just as satisfying, although this mating was lazy, tender and easy. Again, Gabriel pulled her to him and fell asleep holding her.
The Christmas Treasure Page 6
