by Connie Mason
By the time Rod opened the door to an attractive, rather masculine room decorated in vibrant earth tones, his dark visage was set in stern lines and his eyebrows drawn together in a deep scowl.
Julie looked about curiously, thinking she would be decidedly uncomfortable sharing this room with Rod. But she needn’t have worried for Rod crossed the room and opened a connecting door. “I think you will find this room more to your liking. It was my mother’s. These two rooms were recently redecorated and prepared for Ele … my bride.”
“It’s … lovely, Rod,” breathed Julie, enchanted. In truth, Julie had never seen a more beautiful room with its clean, white-washed walls, sunny yellow curtains and bedspread, and tall French doors leading to a wide veranda. Beyond the veranda lay the courtyard she had glimpsed earlier, with its sparkling fountain playing in the sunlight. Walking out onto the veranda Julie could see that each room in the sprawling house led out into the carefully tended courtyard. Not only could each room be reached from the inside hallway but from the outside also, the common walkway being the veranda.
Julie turned happily to Rod, her face radiant. But the smile died on her face when she glimpsed his stony expression. Once again he had retreated behind a facade of cool indifference. “Is something wrong, Rod?” she asked, well aware of the change she had wrought in his life.
“What can be wrong, querida?” he answered heavily. “My father is forced to accept a daughter-in-law he obviously detests and my fiancee—my ex-fiancee—is expected to welcome the woman who has replaced her. Can there be anything right in that?”
“Never will I understand you, Rodrigo!” Julie retorted crossly. “Your moods run from hot to cold. If you recall, I didn’t force you into this marriage. You can blame your own damn honor for that! You should have left me with Mae Parker, gotten your annulment and forgotten all about me.”
While anger flashed across Julie’s face, Rod thought he had never seen her so beautiful. Not even her tattered dress and disheveled appearance could detract from her physical allure. He felt drawn to her, like a bee to honey. Julie was right, he decided in a flash of insight. He did run hot and cold where she was concerned, his emotions constantly at war with one another. He wanted her, yet he didn’t. At this moment he wanted to tear off her clothes and make violent love to her. The thought left him riddled with guilt. How could he make love to Julie with Elena, the woman who rightfully should be his bride, living under the same roof?
Julie tried to decipher Rod’s expression, but failed. At first there was no mistaking the lust-filled eyes raking her body. But it was quickly replaced by confusion. “I think we both need to rest, Julie,” Rod finally said, the tiniest hint of regret in his voice. “We’ll just have to work around this impossible situation.”
“You could send me back to San Francisco, Rod,” Julie reminded him softly.
A stubborn frown settled across his features. “You know better than that, querida,” he informed her arrogantly. “You’re mine now. I do not easily give up what is mine. Your body has known only mine and it shall remain so.”
“Sure of yourself, aren’t you, Rod?” Julie taunted in a fit of pique.
“Of course, querida. I will kill anyone who tries to take you from me, including Joaquin Murieta.”
“Murieta!” Julie repeated blankly.
“I saw the way he looked at you. His thinly veiled lust was there for all to see. And if I was not mistaken, you found him not unattractive.”
“You’re crazy, Rod,” Julie said, disgusted. “He is a bandit, an outlaw.”
“Nevertheless, querida, I do not intend to lose what is mine ever again. Even if I must kill to prevent it.”
“Even if you don’t want what is yours?” asked Julie quietly.
“Not even then.”
For a brief moment Julie was truly frightened by the grim-faced man facing her. She was absolutely certain he meant what he said. Did his words also contain a threat to her, she wondered, her heart hammering dangerously in her breast. If she decided to leave him, would he kill her before he let her go? Of course not, she chided herself, shaking her head to clear it of such disturbing thoughts. She was being foolish. But still, the suggestion lingered. Involuntarily she took a step backwards.
“Are you frightened of me, querida?” Rod asked, sensing her confusion.
“Of course not,” scoffed Julie.
He was standing close to her now, close enough to place a hand caressingly on her smooth cheek. Then it slid down to cup the back of her neck, slowly forcing her forward until their bodies touched. “I don’t think I could ever hurt you, querida,” Rod said, his voice thick with an emotion she found hard to define. “But if you made me angry enough, who knows …” He left the rest of the sentence hanging in the air.
Like a falcon’s swoop, hungry, demanding, his mouth captured hers, punishing in its intensity. Julie’s knees buckled and she would have fallen had Rod not caught her about the waist to hold her upright against his hardening body. She moaned, the hot stab of his tongue plundering, tasting, savoring. She went limp in surrender and Rod’s kiss gentled, softened, his tongue withdrawing to outline the contour of her parted lips. One hand left the back of her neck to mold the underside of a taut breast, his thumb rubbing experimentally against the hardened nub.
Julie’s breath quickened, her heart slamming dangerously against her ribcage. How could she allow this exasperating man to gain control over her senses to such a degree that nothing mattered but her body.
Rod was never more aware of his own growing need for the honey-haired seductress he had married, albeit reluctantly. “Bruja,” he groaned against her mouth. “Witch. You enchant me. I gave up all for you. Now it’s your turn to surrender to me.”
Scooping her up in one smooth motion he carried her to the bed and began tearing frantically at her clothes, impatient to taste once again the wonders of her fragrant flesh. “Oh, excuse me,” intruded a small voice. “I did not think … I mean … am I intruding?”
Rod froze, turning to face the interloper who was denying him his heart’s desire. Elena stood poised in the doorway, her cheeks pink but her eyes cold and brittle. Julie searched frantically for something with which to cover her partially exposed breasts, found the sheet and pulled it protectively in front of her. “Don’t you believe in knocking, Elena?” Rod asked, clearly piqued.
Elena’s dark gaze flew downward where the hard pressure of his arousal spoiled the smoothness of his tight trousers. A wry grin lifted the corner of her sensuous mouth when she realized her intervention was timed exactly right. It was obvious Rodrigo and his Anglo puta had been interrupted before they could complete the act that should belong to her alone. She batted her long lashes innocently.
“I did knock,” Rodrigo, but no one answered. I thought Julie was taking a siesta and didn’t wish to awaken her.”
“Now that you are here, Elena, what do you want?” he asked crossly, sounding much like a deprived child.
“Your … wife’s bag. I wished only to have it placed in her room.”
“I’ll see to it. Is that all?”
“No,” answered Elena smugly. “Your padre wishes to speak with you in the study.”
“Por Dios!” cursed Rod, smoothing back his dark locks with long, tapering fingers. After one lingering look at Julie which Elena did not miss, he turned abruptly on his heel and stormed out of the room.
Elena leaned lazily against the doorjamb, smiling triumphantly. “It will not be easy here for you, Julie. You will find that Rodrigo has little time to devote to a wife.”
“And you will make damn certain what time he does have will be spent dancing attendance on you and his father,” replied Julie sweetly.
“You said it, not I,” retorted Elena haughtily. In a swirl of pink and frothy white she was gone, leaving Julie to wonder at the strange relationship between herself and Rod that fate had thrust upon her. A love-hate relationship that was doomed from the very beginning.
8
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br /> Julie awoke from her siesta refreshed, and after a hot bath she dressed herself in her most attractive gown and prepared to face the family. Lopita, the young maid assigned to assist Julie, did wonders with her long blond tresses, and when Rod came for her she squared her small shoulders and set out bravely to face the enemy.
Though Rod’s greeting was friendly enough, he made no mention of their interrupted interlude of the afternoon. Nor did he suggest they continue where they left off later, before Elena so rudely interferred. Julie felt like an interloper herself during the long evening meal. Rapid Spanish flew around her like pistol shots. When Rod attempted to explain in English he was immediately forestalled by either Don Diego or Elena. Though she was hungry and the food delicious, Julie could do no more than listlessly push her food around with her fork. She was grateful when Don Diego rose, signalling the end of the meal, so she could escape from beneath Elena’s soul-piercing, ebony eyes. Between Don Diego and Elena, she sensed Rod’s former fiancee to be the most threatening. The lengths she would go to vent her animosity was less clear.
After the meal, Julie chose to escape to her room immediately while Rod lingered to play chess with his father. Elena also remained to watch the outcome of the game. From her room Julie could hear their voices raised in laughter. Covering her head with her pillow to drown out the happy, intimate sounds, she drifted off to sleep.
Rod chaffed impatiently, his chess moves forced. Though his need for Julie drove him wild, he had no wish to play the besotted bridegroom eager to lose himself in his wife’s sweetly curved body. Elena’s untimely interruption of the afternoon weighed heavily upon him. He could barely keep his mind on the chess game in his anxiety to go to Julie and bring to a pleasurable completion that which they had begun earlier. It was growing very late and still Don Diego lingered over the board, deliberately prolonging the game until Rod screamed inwardly with frustration, his body tense and unfulfilled. By now Julie would be sound asleep, he groaned beneath his breath, picturing her amber hair spread out about her sweet smelling flesh.
Sensing his distraction, Elena took matters into her own capable hands. “Can’t you see that Rodrigo is bored with chess, Don Diego,” she smiled archly. “I, too, grow weary of sitting inside on a beautiful night such as this. Come, Rodrigo, let us walk in the garden. Has marriage changed you so much that you cannot spare a few moments for an old friend?”
Rod shifted uncomfortably. He had no desire to wander aimlessly in the garden with Elena when Julie lay within his reach. But he was left with no alternative but to acquiesce graciously with the persuasive Elena tugging on his arm. Even Don Diego sided with Elena as he waved his arm toward the open French doors, saying, “Go on, mi hijo. Elena is right. The night is too fine to remain inside.” Then he rose gracefully and left the room, the trace of a smile curving his lips.
The night was indeed fine as Rod drew in deep lungfuls of clean, cool air, savoring the pungent aroma of his beloved land. The only discordant note was that somehow the wrong woman was clinging possessively to his arm. He was very fond of Elena; in fact, had often imagined what it would be like to possess her voluptuous body, to be the first to awaken her to passion. But at the same time he felt certain that love was an emotion that had never touched his heart where Elena was concerned.
“This is the first chance we’ve had to talk alone, Rodrigo,” Elena pouted prettily. “Sit here, beside me,” she pointed to a bench placed beside the babbling fountain, “and tell me why you have chosen to disregard our betrothal and marry another. You owe me that much, Rodrigo.”
While Elena and Rod talked quietly beside the fountain, Julie awoke suddenly from a troubled dream in which Rod was alternately making love to her and then ignoring her. She looked longingly toward the closed door that separated their rooms, fighting off the impulse to go to him. Instead, she chose to walk in the garden to ponder the predicament she had unwittingly imposed upon herself. Catlike she slipped through the French doors, slid noiselessly across the veranda, and immediately was lost in the shadows of the courtyard.
“It will do no good to talk of my reasons for marrying Julie,” Rod said. “You would not understand. Only know that Julie and I have repeated our vows in accordance with the teachings of the Holy Church. Nothing will separate us but death. I’m sorry, Elena, I did not mean to hurt you.”
Elena was smart enough to realize it would best serve her purposes to allow Rod to think she was resigned to his marriage. “Grant me one favor, Rodrigo,” she pleaded beseechingly, her velvet eyes luminous in the moonlight.
“Of course, Elena,” Rod agreed, eager to appease the willful spitfire.
“Kiss me, mi amor. Kiss me as you would a lover so you will know what you have given up.”
“Elena!” Rod was shocked by her request. “Why torture yourself?”
“Please, Rodrigo. If you care for me at all, do as I ask.”
“Si, Elena,” Rod shrugged. “If it means so much to you.”
Taking her slender form in his arms, Rod tenderly placed a kiss on Elena’s ripe lips. But Elena wanted no part of tenderness. She wanted to feel Rod’s passion, to experience his hard body burgeoning with desire. Pressing herself against his body until the points of her breasts stabbed into his chest, her arms curled tightly about his neck, Elena groaned softly. When her soft lips opened beneath his, Rod could not help but fill the sweet void with his tongue.
It was at that precise moment that Julie abruptly came upon the intimate scene.
Breathlessly Elena leaned back in Rod’s arms, staring raptuously into his glazed eyes. The kiss had affected him more than he cared to admit.
“I love you, mi amor,” Elena whispered softly.
“And I love you, Elena …” Upon hearing Rod’s impassioned words, Julie spun on her heel and fled back to the safety of her room before she heard the rest of Rod’s sentence, “… just like a sister, or a beloved friend.” Neither Elena nor Rod were aware that Julie had overheard them.
No longer did Julie harbor any doubts about Rod’s true feelings for her. She could not help but feel sick at heart, rejected, even though her own feelings for her husband were confused. How Rod must hate her, she agonized, trapped, so to speak, by their loveless marriage. But God knows she never meant to ensnare him, nor did she force him to marry her. Finally, exhaustion claimed her as her troubled thoughts gave way to sleep.
Rod hadn’t the heart to awaken Julie when Elena finally allowed him to escape. She was sleeping so peacefully that no matter how badly Rod wanted her he decided to forego his pleasure and allow her her rest. It had been a long, trying day for both of them.
The following day Julie saw little or nothing of Rod. Don Diego coldly informed her that it was roundup time and Rodrigo was needed on the range with the vaqueros. After roundup came the cattle drive to San Antonio. It was a busy time on the rancho and there were many nights Rod did not return at all, preferring to spend his nights in the open with the vaqueros.
Julie found she had much time on her hands with nothing to do. Don Diego went about his own business, Elena was barely civil to her, and the servants padded about the house in silence, uncertain how to treat her. One fine day Julie wandered out into the yard and came upon a child, a girl about eight or nine years old, sitting on the corral fence watching a vaquero break a horse to the saddle.
Julie was immediately struck by the child’s fragile beauty and walked over to speak with her. The child turned large, luminous eyes on Julie, melting her to the core.
“Hola, chiquita,” Julie said in halting Spanish. “Do you live here?”
“Si, señora,” answered the child solemnly. “I live in a casa on the rancho with mi tia and tio. You speak very good Spanish for an Anglo.”
“If you speak slowly I can understand,” smiled Julie, enchanted by the elfin-faced cherub. “What is your name?”
“I am called Felicia, señora. Mi tia, my aunt, is Teresa, the housekeeper in Don Diego’s household. Mi tio is a blacksmith.”
“Why haven’t I seen you before, Felicia?”
“On most days I have lessons with Padre Juan,” replied the child, Then she turned raptly to the action taking place inside the corral. “Isn’t he magnificent, señora?” she asked, meaning the pure white horse being broken to the saddle.
“Si,” agreed Julie. “A truly beautiful animal.
“Do you ride, señora?”
“No,” replied Julie wistfully. “I’ve never had the opportunity to learn.”
“I could teach you, señora,” piped the child brightly. “I am an excellent rider. Don Diego lets me ride his horses whenever I please. Would you like to be my friend, señora?”
Julie smiled eagerly. What a sweet child, she thought, thinking of the children she and Rod might have. She must remember to compliment Teresa on her enchanting niece. She wondered about the child’s parents and why she was living with her aunt and uncle. Suddenly she became aware that Felicia was waiting for an answer.
“I would be honored to have you as a teacher and friend, Felicia,” Julie said, meaning it. “I will ask Don Diego if I might use one of his horses and we can begin our lessons the next time you are allowed time off from your studies.”
Felicia grinned, throwing her arms about Julie’s neck. “We will surprise Don Rodrigo, señora, Mi tia told me you are Don Rodrigo’s wife, that he chose you over Doña Elena. I … I think he made a wise choice, señora,” she said shyly. “You are much nicer … and more beautiful, too.”
