by Connie Mason
Julie gasped, shocked by his surprising declaration. “What about Elena? What will your father say? What…”
“One thing at a time, querida. It matters little what anyone thinks. By the time we arrive we will be truly wed.”
His words confused Julie. Weren’t they already married? Surely it was too soon for the annulment to be granted, wasn’t it? She asked him, his answer astounding her.
“I … haven’t spoken to my lawyer yet concerning our annulment,” Rod admitted, flustered. If the truth be known he had plenty of time to speak to his lawyer but somehow he kept putting it off until it was too late and he was already on his way to San Francisco. The reason behind the procrastination escaped him but the way things turned out it was just as well.
“I don’t understand,” Julie said, more baffled than ever. “You said—”
“Forget what I said,” Rod stated more harshly than he meant to. “You are my responsibility. I shouldn’t have married you but I did. From now on I’ll take care of everything.”
Despite her deep fatigue, despite her bruised and aching body, Julie’s anger erupted. “I refuse to become someone’s ‘responsibility.’ I will not be treated like a possession and an unwanted one at that,” Julie fumed, incensed by Rod’s lack of sensibility. She would be a burden to no man. “I don’t need your protection. You don’t love me and I certainly don’t love you! Do you think your father will accept me as your wife? No! Neither will Elena. It’s impossible, Rod. This whole situation is impossible,” she contended. “It can’t be and you know it.”
“It will be, querida,” Rod schooled sternly. “I won’t hear another word about it. Our marriage will not be disputed. The strict code of honor under which I was raised demands I do this. You are my wife and nothing or no one will change that.”
Julie sighed heavily, too weary to protest further. Sensing her exhaustion Rod rose to leave. “Sleep, querida,” he advised. “When you awaken it will all seem like a bad dream. When you are fully recuperated we will leave for my hacienda.”
Two days later Julie found herself bidding a tearful farewell to both Mae Parker and Marty Sloan. No matter how long and hard she had protested, in the end she was forced to comply with Rod’s wishes. Not even her argument of continuing her search for her father served to dissuade him from his misplaced sense of duty toward her. In Julie’s estimation their loveless marriage was destined for more trouble than either of them was prepared to face.
In the two days and nights prior to their departure Rod made no demands upon her, leaving her in Mae’s capable hands while he prepared for their trip down El Camino Real to San Luis Obispo. Perhaps he had no intention of consummating their marriage, Julie thought dismally, suddenly recalling how her body had once come alive under his hands and lips. No doubt he now thought her not good enough for him and wanted no part of her. Well, that was all right with her, she decided evasively. She had no desire to experience a man’s lust again. Brute Kelly had cured her of all her girlish romantic notions with his attempted rape, for Julie knew he had not completed his vile act.
Finally, all her goodbyes were said and Rod was loading her belongings in the bed of the wagon which also contained an assortment of supplies needed for their journey south. Because Julie could not ride, the wagon was necessary. Rod’s own mount was tied behind the disreputable but sturdy vehicle.
“Are you ready, querida?” Rod asked in an attempt to hasten their departure. “It grows late.”
“You bring her back, Don Rodrigo, you hear?” commanded Mae, swiping a roughened hand across her misting eyes. “It’s not so far that you can’t visit once in a while.”
“I promise,” laughed Rod, boosting Julie onto the springless seat.
Before long the wagon was traveling along the forty-foot planked toll road that led out of San Francisco’s muddy business district and which ended abruptly at Sixteenth Street. Soon even the wheel ruts and prints of animals and men disappeared into the grassy fields. The dunes in the background were studded with chaparral. Julie gazed dispassionately at the cattle grazing for miles between peninsula foothills and the wide southern arm of San Francisco Bay.
El Camino Real, the king’s road, was the name given to the old mission trail, Julie knew from what Rod told her, consisting sometimes of nothing more than rude paths connecting San Francisco with San Diego, an arduous six to eight day journey. It would take over four days and nights just to reach San Luis Obispo.
Along El Camino Real lay the missions established by the Franciscans as early as 1769. Now, the chain of adobe buildings stretched from San Diego to San Francisco. In 1833 the Secularization Act doling out half the holdings of prosperous missions and settlements to the state vastly reduced the missions. The other half was divided among Indians capable of living independently of the missions. The Franciscans were then relegated to nothing more than curates as the missions were turned into parishes.
Their first day along the trail was exhausting as well as nervewracking for Julie. Rod not only kept his pistol at the ready but a rifle placed at his feet for added protection. He patiently explained the need for caution.
“Brigands and banditos frequently travel these roads in search of easy prey, querida. No one knows the actual count of the number of persons who met violent deaths along El Camino Real. Robbery, murder, even lynchings are common occurrences.”
Julie suppressed a shudder, imagining a brigand behind every dune and rock waiting to pounce upon them. At noon the first day they had lunch at the Grizzly Bear, a well known roadhouse. That night Rod secured a room for them at the Nightingale. Julie was relieved when he made a pallet on the floor for himself and fell immediately asleep.
The next day, after having lunch at the Mansion House, Rod informed Julie that civilization for them would end at the Red House Inn. From this point on, they would sleep in the wagon during the remainder of their journey.
The going was sometimes rough, the paths taking them at times along stretches of road hugging mountain sides, through swollen streams and across miles of parched semi-dry desert country. Julie held her breath each time they began yet another of the steep climbs and descents, but Rod’s expert driving brought them through safely. After all, he was no stranger to the pitfalls of El Camino Real.
That evening Rod built a fire and Julie prepared a simple meal of beans, bacon, biscuits and coffee. While she cleaned up, Rod made their beds amid the sacks and barrels, laying down a thick pad of blankets. When it was time to retire he thoughtfully turned his back while Julie slipped off her dress and slid between the rough blankets wearing nothing but her thin chemise. She did the same for Rod until she felt him settle down beside her, squirming to make himself comfortable.
Because of their close quarters Julie could feel the heat of Rod’s body scorching her along one side. She felt him shudder at the contact and flushed, mistaking his reaction for revulsion. Was he still thinking about Brute Kelly and how he had laid hands upon her, she wondered? Did he think she had enjoyed his foul touch? Finally, she felt him relax and allowed sleep to overtake her.
Sometime during the night, the wind arose and Julie instinctively moved closer to Rob, seeking his warmth. As if to hold her in place, Rob threw a leg over her slight form, his body half covering hers. Julie awoke with a start, suddenly aware of the weight pressing down upon her. She screamed, reliving in her mind that horrible moment when Brute Kelly was attacking her even though she remembered very little of it.
“No! No!” she cried out, thrashing about wildly. “Please don’t hurt me!”
Abruptly, Rod awoke to find Julie in his arms, crying out and fighting off an imaginary assault. “Julie, it’s Rod,” he soothed gently. “No one will hurt you, mi amor, Kelly is dead. He won’t be able to harm anyone again.”
His words must have gotten through to her for she immediately calmed down. “Kelly is dead?” she repeated dully. “How do you know? Did you …are you the one who—”
“No, querida,” Rod admitte
d ruefully, “but I wish I had been the one to snuff out his worthless life.”
“Then, who—”
“No one knows. He was found along the trail the day after … after … he abducted you. His tongue was missing and so were his … genitals.”
“My God!” gasped Julie, hiding her head against Rod’s shoulder.
“He bled to death. Some think banditos were the culprits but I’m more inclined to think the Tong responsible for the killing.”
“The Tong?”
“A secret Chinese society that seeks their revenge by cruel, almost inhuman methods. I believe your friend, Wong Li, had a hand in it.”
“I’m not sorry he’s dead,” Julie grimaced, “but the method, it’s … it’s …” She shuddered, unable to continue.
Suddenly aware of the thinly clad form burrowing into the protection of his arms, Rod’s body reacted violently. For days he had fought against his rising need for this honey-haired enchantress, deliberately turning his back upon her, sleeping apart so as not to become aroused by her nearness. Por Dios, he wanted her! And now, here she was, pressed intimately against his growing hardness. Instinctively his arms tightened and Julie cried softly against the pressure.
Without warning Rod’s lips found hers in the darkness. At first his kiss was gentle, but swiftly turned hungry, possessive, his hot tongue driving into her mouth to ravish the velvet recesses within. One kiss melted into another until it became a continuous blending of their bodies. Against her will, her lips parted to the sweet, hot thrust of his tongue. The kiss was the magic that released her response.
Their bodies touched, clung and molded together as his lips slid from her mouth, along the long column of her throat, settling finally at the hollow where a tiny pulse beat furiously. Julie sighed as Rod impatiently slid her chemise from her shoulders to her waist. When his greedy mouth found an engorged nipple she grew weak with desire as his rough tongue lapped lovingly at the tender bud.
“I want you, mi amor,” Rod whispered hoarsely.
Julie’s voice cracked but she mastered it as she replied. “I … I thought that … that you didn’t want me, that I wasn’t good enough for you.”
“I wanted you from the first moment I saw you,” admitted Rod in a burst of insight, “but knew that we had no future together. Kelly succeeded in bringing us together as no one else could. Now that I have been forced into this marriage, I feel free to take you with no regrets.”
Julie froze, his words like a dash of cold water in her face. It was obvious to her that Rod held no feelings for her other than lust. He wanted her, that much was true, and felt an obligation, enforced by his strict code of ethics. He felt dutybound to protect her but other than that cared nothing for her. It was Elena he loved. At that’ moment her future seemed bleak and she began to struggle against Rod’s passion and her own rising ardor.
“Don’t fight against it, querida,” Rod urged when he felt her stiffen in his arms. “We both want this. Relax, I won’t hurt you the way Kelly did. I haven’t approached you before because I thought to give you time to recuperate from your ordeal.”
“You’re wrong, Rod. I don’t want this. Let this be a marriage in name only,” pleaded Julie.
Rod laughed harshly, crudely running a hand over her breasts and hips. “Would you deny me your lovely body? I think not, querida. I don’t intend to live like a eunuch. I also want a family. You will serve the purpose for which God made you, whether you like it or not. You’ll find I’m quite expert at making love.”
Julie’s angry retort died in her throat as Rod’s mouth slammed down against hers, plundering the sweet, velvet depths with his stabbing tongue. Julie moaned in protest against the violence of his passion but it did no good. She was powerless against Rod’s superior strength. If he chose to exercise his marital rights at this time it was his prerogative to do so and all her struggles went for naught.
Within minutes Rod had her chemise worked down over her hips and kicked to one side. His trousers soon lay beside it. What followed was a sweet assault upon her senses as Rod sought to prove his prowess as a lover. His hands teased her breasts until they blossomed into peaks of sensual awareness, his touch deliberate, yet honey-smooth as they slid down to her hips and below. Against her will Julie felt herself filling with a fever born of growing passion.
“Querida, your skin is like smooth alabaster, so cool, yet hot to my touch,” Rod murmured, his mouth playing a tune of sweet pleasure upon her heated flesh. “How I’ve dreamed of burying myself deep in your body. Bruja … witch. Only a witch could entrance me as you have.”
Rod’s long fingers, light and teasing, moved unerringly to the honey-gold triangle nestled between her thighs, tangling in the silky mound before exploring further. Julie could not suppress a groan of pleasure. She nearly screamed aloud as his finger caressed her flesh in a circular motion that drove her wild with wanting. Each tremor that began in the pit of her stomach drove flashes of lightning along her nerves to every part of her body. When he deemed her moist and receptive, he pushed her knees apart.
Easing himself between her thighs he began to penetrate her, hesitantly at first, then more forcefully. Julie arched her back until she felt sharp stabs of pain radiating from the point of his deep thrusts. Uncontrollable gasps of pain escaped her lips and her eyes glazed over. The agony drove all thoughts of passion from her body and she was filled with confusion and resentment.
When Rod finally realized that he was in a passage where no man before before him had entered, it was too late to stop. The thin veil of her viginity was all that stood between him and the greatest pleasure he had ever known. Pulling nearly all the way out he thrust forward strongly, eliciting a muffled gasp from Julie as he sheathed himself completely in her tight flesh. Realizing that the pain of being deflowered had killed her ardor, Rod finished quickly.
Disappointment clouded Julie’s face as Rod swiftly brought himself to a climax and lay quietly beside her. How could anything that started out so beautifully end in such pain, she wondered?
“You’re a virgin,” Rod accused irrationally, momentarily forgetting that it was he who had drawn the wrong conclusion in the first place.
“You were the one who insisted I had been raped!” shot back Julie. “I tried to tell you it wasn’t so. It’s my body and I would know had I been violated.”
“Por Dios!” Rod cursed. “I would not have touched you had I thought you were still a virgin. Nor would I have been so persistent about honoring my commitment to you.”
Julie fumed in impotent rage. “Take me back to San Francisco and get your damn annulment. We can forget this ever happened. It seems to me that lovemaking is vastly overrated anyway and I have no desire to partake further.”
Rod smiled wickedly. “It’s done, querida. If a child is born in nine months I will have no doubt as to its paternity.”
“A child!” gasped Julie as if the idea were repugnant to her. “I … I hadn’t thought about that.”
“And as to your disappointment,” Rod continued smoothly, “it is always that way the first time. In a moment I will remedy that.”
Julie was surprised when he began the ritual again, but even more astonished that her body eagerly responded while her mind fought the delightful sensations wrought by his hands and mouth. She had no wish to be used for pleasure alone, but with Rod’s hands on her and his mouth searching out every crevice and curve she could only hope that he would not leave her empty and unfulfilled again.
But she need not have worried. This time when Rod entered her there was no pain, and when he began to move, her body easily learned the rhythm, matching his thrusts stroke for stroke. This time he took her all the way. A warmth radiated in her loins and spread through her body in undulating waves until, reaching her throat, she cried out her joy. Only then did Rod allow his own passion to explode in a climax more dramatic than any he had ever known. Had Rod cared to look he would have seen a sense of wonder in Julie’s expression.
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nbsp; Julie was only half awake when she threw off the constricting blanket covering her nude body. The sun had already risen and perspiration beaded her glistening flesh. A playful breeze tickled her damp stomach and Julie sighed and rolled over in in order to seek a more comfortable spot. This placed her in a vulnerable position with her rounded rump thrust deliciously upward. A yelp of outrage rose in her throat when a heavy hand connected painfully with her exposed flesh.
“Get up,” a rough voice ordered. “You’ve slept long enough. We have one more stop to make before I can take you home.”
Julie rolled over to face a glowering Rod. There was no trace of the tender lover of the night before in either his stern countenance or cold voice. It was as if last night had never happened. Did he still feel that she had somehow trapped him into marriage? Julie wondered. He should have believed her when she told him that Brute Kelly hadn’t raped her. Besides, it was Rod’s fault for making love to her in the first place. She would still be a virgin but for his uncontrollable lust.
“Did you hear, Julie?” Rod repeated. “I said get up. I want to be at the mission by noon.” Though his voice was cold, his eyes kindled as he continued to stare at her, moving from her breasts to stomach, and lower still.
Only then did Julie realize that she was completely nude and she flushed hotly as she felt her breasts firm and thrust pertly upward beneath his probing gaze. Belatedly she reached for the blanket. Muttering an oath, Rod turned on his heel and left her to dress in private.
If Julie was puzzled by Rod’s strange behavior, Rod was even more confused. He had awakened shortly after dawn feeling more at peace and relaxed than he had in a long, long time. Julie’s nude body was nestled trustingly in his arms, her head tucked beneath his chin. In his mind he relived every moment of their lovemaking the night before, and became so aroused he nearly awakened her to enjoy again the passion that had passed between them.
