Sweet Silken Bondage

by Bobbi Smith

  All too late, Clay realized his mistake. Reina slammed against him, her slender curves pressed intimately close to his body. He could feel every inch of her as he held her pinioned and he froze, suddenly achingly aware of her as a woman.

  "Let me go!" Reina seemed to sense a sudden change in him. She gasped at the intensity she saw in his gaze. "Let me go, Clay."

  "1 can't," he groaned. "Not now. Not when I've finally found you...."

  "No, Clay..." she began to protest, but she had no time to say more as Clay's mouth descended to hers, claiming her lips in a demanding kiss. This was no longer Clay, her captor, but Clay, the man. "Don't..." she whispered in hoarse protest as his mouth left hers; but he ignored her.

  When he bent to seek the sweetness of her throat, a small whimper escaped her. She shivered at the ecstasy of his touch. Long-denied passion exploded within her. With a groan of surrender, she ceased her struggle and melted willingly against the hard wall of his chest.

  Caught up in a maelstrom of need, they drank of each other, tasting the wine of their desire. After a full, flaming kiss, Reina murmured his name in almost exquisite agony.

  "Clay...

  "Ah, Reina," came his answer, and her name was a moan of pure pleasure. "1 want you more than I've ever wanted any woman."

  Bobbi Smith:

  THE HALF-BREED (SECRET FIRES)

  WESTON'S LADY

  HALF-BREED'S LADY

  OUTLAW'S LADY

  FORBIDDEN FIRES

  RAPTURE'S RAGE

  THE LADY & THE TEXAN

  RENEGADE'S LADY

  THE LADY'S HAND

  LADY DECEPTION

  The Brides of Durango series by Bobbi Smith:

  ELISE

  TESSA

  JENNY

  BOBBI SMITH

  This book is dedicated to four very special ladies I love and admire: Judy Courtois, Evelyn Gee, Audrey Hercules, and Jody Lennaman.

  A special note of thanks to Aunt Ree and her cohorts for all their help and loving guidance in assisting me with Reina `s big adventure,

  A note of appreciation, too, to Mr. Kevin Feeney of the San Fernando Mission Archives for his help with research, and to Mrs. Elaine Donaldson of San Antonio for her assistance.

  This title was previously published by Dorchester Publishing; this version has been reproduced from the Dorchester book archive files.

  Louisiana, 1842

  The lean, dark-haired youth and his thoroughbred black stallion moved as one around the corral near the stables of the Windown plantation while a grizzled, seasoned stablehand looked on approvingly. At thirteen and only a few inches over five feet tall, Clay Cordell was not yet full-grown, but he handled the horse with the ease of a master, guiding him through his paces with a light touch. When Clay had taken the mount through all of his exercises, he reined him in to a slow walk to cool him, all the while stroking the intelligent beast's sleek neck and praising him for his grace and ability.

  "Good boy, Raven," Clay told him, his wide, gray eyes dancing with excitement. He had trained the twoyear old stallion himself and was more than pleased with Raven's progress. "What do you think, Ab? Will I make a racehorse out of him yet?"

  The old black man grinned at him as he answered, "I think so, Master Clay. OF Raven's comin' right along. Yes, sir, he sure is." He was proud of the boy and the job he was doing with the horse.

  "Thanks" Clay beamed under Ab's much-soughtafter-little-given praise. He respected Ab's opinion more than any other man's, except his father's.

  "You just keep doin' what you're doin', and Raven'll be ready for the track real soon."

  "Honest?" he asked, with youthful exuberance.

  Ab nodded, his expression growing more serious. "But just because Ravenll be ready, don't mean you will be. The racetrack ain't no place for a boy, Clay."

  Clay immediately sobered. "I know."

  "Good, you remember that," Ab remarked as he swung the gate open to let him out. "Now, take him on in and rub him down."

  Clay did as he was told, seeing to Raven's comfort before even giving a thought to his own. As he methodically rubbed the stallion down, he let his thoughts wander. Ever since he could remember, there was nothing he wanted to do more than race horses. His father had known that, and though there had never been a lot of money available, he'd managed to get enough together to buy Raven for him. At the time, his mother had protested the extravagance, but his father had overruled her, to Clay's great relief.

  Clay fully intended to prove to both of them that the money hadn't been wasted. The purses at the tracks were large, so if he could just start racing Raven and win...Then, when Raven's racing days were over, they could put him out to stud and build up their stocklines. Clay had the future all plotted out in his mind. Cordell horses would be the talk of Louisiana, and he would be rich beyond his wildest dreams.

  Clay had just finished caring for Raven and was starting from the stable when he caught sight of his mother's carriage coming up the front drive. He was delighted that she was back from her three-day shopping trip to New Orleans and he could hardly wait to see her again. The maturity he had displayed while dealing with the horse disappeared as he raced eagerly for the main house.

  Clay idolized his mother, the gorgeous Evaline Cordell. He thought her the most gentle, loving, beautiful woman in the world, and while most of society was in accord with his assessment of her beauty, the other qualities he endowed her with were not as quickly agreed upon. Dutiful, adoring son that he was, Clay was too young to realize that there could be another side to her-another woman behind the motherly facade she presented him. He knew only that he loved her with all his heart and that he was anxious to see her again after being apart.

  Evaline Cordell, an ebony-haired beauty of porcelain complexion, entrancing gray eyes and statuesque figure, stared out the window of the carriage at the main house as the vehicle made its way up the drive. Her expression was filled with loathing and disgust as she studied the structure. Plantation home indeed! she thought nastily. True, it was a sprawling, two-story frame home with verandas front and back, but size was the only thing it had in common with the other, finer plantation houses in the area. It boasted none of the finer amenities her neighbors had, and the faded and peeling paint gave silent testimony to its owners' desperate lack of funds.

  Evaline knew it was a tribute to her pride and strength of character that she'd managed to last this long, living in what she considered to be such squalor, but no more! She'd had enough! Her little "shopping" excursion into New Orleans had proven that. She was done with this unending life of poverty, and more importantly, she was done with her husband, Philip. She'd wasted too much of her life already listening to his empty promises.

  Ever since she'd left New Orleans and her secret lover, Evaline had been preparing herself for her upcoming confrontation with Philip. Their marriage was over now, and he was going to have to accept it. She was leaving him, and she was never coming back. As the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the house, she smiled cunningly to herself. Soon this farce of a life she'd been living would be finished, and she would finally have everything she'd always wanted... always deserved. Once she left Philip, she would never have to do without again. From this moment on, her life was going to be perfect. With confidence, Evaline descended the conveyance and started up the front steps.

  Philip Cordell was deeply involved in trying to figure out how to keep the plantation running and still meet his bills when the study door opened. He didn't appreciate the interruption, and, scowling, he looked up in annoyance. His frown of irritation faded immediately, though, as Evaline swept into the room. All thoughts of his financial woes vanished before the glory of her loveliness.

  "Evaline, dar
ling, you're back." Philip came to his feet to greet her, his brown-eyed gaze darkening in appreciation. He still loved his wife with the same passionate devotion he'd had for her on their wedding day, and he had missed her desperately during her time away.

  "Philip," Evaline said coolly, not responding to the warmth in her husband's tone.

  Struck by the iciness with which she'd spoken his name, Philip stopped in midstride. "Is something wrong?"

  "We must talk," she answered quickly, wanting only to get the interview over with. She had things to do ...places to go.. .people waiting for her...

  "Of course, but first let me welcome you home properly," Philip said softly as he reached for her. All he could only think of was the excitement of holding her again, of tasting of her wine-sweet kisses and making her his once more.

  Evaline was well aware of the effect her striking good looks had on Philip. He had often told her that her mouth with its full lower lip just begged to be kissed, and she could tell by his avid approach that he was intent on doing just that right now. She, however, was in no mood to suffer his pawings. When Philip tried to take her in his arms, she shifted away.

  "No, Philip," she dictated sternly.

  "Evaline? What is it?" Philip asked.

  Evaline knew she had to get this over with as quickly as possible, and she turned on him, her manner haughty, her expression icy. "I'm leaving you, Philip." Her words were dripping with contempt.

  By the time Clay reached the steps to the wide front porch, his mother had already disappeared inside. Knowing what a stickler she was about proper appearances, he paused just long enough to catch his breath, straighten his clothing and run a taming hand through the thickness of his windblown hair. Hoping that he looked presentable, Clay hurried indoors only to discover that she had already gone into the study where he knew his father was hard at work.

  Clay was tempted to barge right in after her for the door was standing partially open, but caution held him in restraint. Earlier that morning, his father had commanded him not to interrupt him for he had some important paperwork to do. Remembering the admonition, Clay waited impatiently behind the door just out of sight, trying to listen to their conversation so he could know when it was safe to go on in and welcome his mother home.

  "I'm leaving you, Philip."

  His mother's declaration washed over him, draining all the color from his face as his stomach sank in a sudden, lurching motion. She was leaving? She'd just gotten home. Why would she be leaving again? He frowned, trying to understand what was going on.

  Within the room neither Philip nor Evaline was aware of their son's presence.

  Philip was staring at his wife, dumbfounded. "You're leaving?"

  "Yes, Philip, I've only returned to pack my things."

  "But I don't understand..." he said slowly, in total confusion.

  "Of course you don't," she told him scathingly. "You've never understood me, and you never will!"

  Philip reeled from her cruel verbal blows. His whole life was centered on his wife. She was his world. "Evaline, tell me what's wrong ...I'll do whatever I can..."

  "It's too late for that, Philip."

  "Too late? What are you saying?"

  "I've met another man..."

  "Who, Evaline? I swear I'll kill the bastard!"

  "He's someone who'll take care of me, Philip. Someone who will give me all the things you promised you'd give me when we married!" She threw the words at him accusingly.

  Philip stared at his wife in disbelief and growing fury. She'd been with another man? When she faced him fearlessly without showing any shame, his anger exploded. He grabbed her by the upper arm and jerked her to him. "Who's dared to steal you from me?"

  "I never belonged to you, so I can't be stolen," Evaline snarled. She was enjoying putting him through this torment, for she believed it little enough pay-back for the humiliation she'd suffered through the years. She'd been raised in a wealthy home, and Philip had vowed that he would provide the same for her. He'd lied.

  "Evaline, I won't let him take you from me..."

  "The idea to leave you was mine, Philip. Mine! I want to leave you!" Evaline smiled at him, coldly, viciously.

  "I'll kill any man who touches you!"

  "Don't bother, Philip," she sneered, twisting free of his bruising hold. "It won't change how I feel about you or how I feel about living here at Windown."

  Philip had always placed his wife on a pedestal. He'd adored her unquestioningly, thinking her the most perfect woman in the world, but his blind love for her shattered in that instant. For the first time, he saw her for what she really was-a self-centered, spoiled woman who cared for no one but herself. It wounded Philip to think he could have been so wrong for so long, and the realization stunned him. "Why you little..."

  "Spare me your condemnation, Philip," she dismissed his rage with an unconcerned wave of her delicate, perfectly manicured hand as she glanced back at him. "I don't care what you think of me. I'm sick of you and of this hovel you call a plantation!" Evaline's face was a mask of disgust as she stared about the room, noting the threadbare drapes, the worn carpet and the old furniture. "We've been married for fourteen years, and all I've got to show for it is this!"

  "Don't do this, Evaline. Give me more time! I know I can make Windown a showplace! Just give me a few more years!"

  "A few more years?" she scoffed. "You're a fool, Philip. This broken-down farm is never going to pay off!"

  "No, I've got plans." He wanted to tell her of his plans to make Windown into the best horsebreeding plantation in the state, but she wouldn't listen.

  "I want to live, Philip," she said. "I want to enjoy life, not grow old before my time! I've found someone who'll keep me the way I want and deserve to be kept, and I'm going to him."

  "What about our vows? You know I love you!" His voice was strangled as he spoke. He was a proud man who'd never begged for a thing in his life.

  Evaline gave him a pained look. "I don't love you, Philip," she declared. "Sometimes, I honestly think I never did."

  At her words, Philip blanched and his heart turned to stone in his chest.

  "As soon as I pack my things, I'll be leaving," Evaline said.

  "What about Clay?" Philip almost whispered this last plea.

  "What about him?" She shrugged indifferently. There was no room in her heart for more than her own indulgent self-love. She considered her son more of an annoyance than a godsend. True, he was a handsome boy, but what would she do with a child? "He'll be fine here with you," she dismissed.

  "For God's sake, Evaline, think about what you're doing!"

  "I have thought about it, Philip! I've thought of nothing else for months now! I can't stand being poor any longer!"

  "I won't let you go!"

  "You really have nothing to say about it." Her eyes narrowed dangerously, their gray depths shining almost silver as she thought he might try to stop her. "Don't try to prevent me from going or bother coming after me. It won't do you any good! I've made up my mind."

  With that, Evaline turned her back on her husband and her past life and left the room, closing the door behind her. Outside, to her surprise, she came face to face with Clay.

  "You heard?" She'd hoped to leave without seeing Clay, but realized now that there was no way she was going to be able to avoid talking to him.

  "Yes," Clay stammered in bewilderment.

  "Good," Evaline said coolly. She was glad he'd been listening; now she wouldn't have to go through it again.

  "Can I go with you?" he asked, his voice filled with hope. Though he loved the plantation and his horse, at that moment he loved her more.

  "No," she snapped without even considering his request. The last thing she wanted or needed was a child clinging to her.

  Her reply was so abrupt and so cold that wild emotions jolted through Clay. His hands tightened into fists at his sides as he fought to control them.

  "But why not? I'll be good, Mother, I promise..." he pl
eaded with heartfelt emotion. He didn't want to be separated from her. He wanted to stay with her. He couldn't understand why she didn't want him.

  "I said no, Clay, and that's final. You stay here with your father." She started to walk away from him, effectively dismissing him from her life, but he clutched at her arm, not wanting to let her go.

  "Did I do something to make you mad? If I did, I'm sorry, Mother."

  Evaline cringed at his clinging and shook him off. For God's sake, act like a man!" she scolded him cruelly. "You'll be fine here with your father."

  "But I want you to be here, too," Clay insisted with childish determination.

  "Sometimes, Clay," his mother replied with cold precision, "we don't always get what we want in life."

  "But Mother..." he started to say more, but stopped as he saw the icy indifference in her expression.

  "Your father will take care of you," Evaline told him. Then without another word or gesture, she headed up the staircase, leaving her young son standing there alone. She did not bother to look back. The life she'd suffered through here at Windown was behind her now. All she cared about was her future, and it promised to be a happy one.

  Pale and shaken, Philip stood rigidly in the middle of the study, trying to deal with the shock of what had just transpired. In the course of a few minutes, his entire world had been destroyed. Evaline had always been his sole reason for living and now...

  Needing something to strengthen him, he strode to the liquor cabinet in the corner of the study and grabbed up the bourbon. Not bothering with a glass, he drank straight from the bottle. As the fiery liquor burned down his throat, Philip wondered desperately how he was going to go on. Life had no meaning any more. There was no reason to go on without Evaline. He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the door open or Clay enter the room.

  "Papa?"

  Clay... The sound of his son's voice so close behind him shook Philip to the core, and he desperately tried to get a grip on himself. How on God's earth was he going to tell Clay what had happened? Setting the bottle aside, he paused to draw a deep steadying breath and then finally turned around to confront his son.