by Connie Mason
“Muchas gracias, Felicia,” Julie replied, touched by the child’s words. This beautiful but obviously lonesome child made her feel more welcome than anyone else on the Rancho Delgado, including her own husband, who of late had ignored her as if she didn’t exist.
Later that day Julie came upon Don Diego and Elena, heads bent together, engaged in serious discussion. At her intrusion their talk immediately ceased, both staring at her as one would an unwelcome visitor. Embarrassed, Julie blurted out her request to ride one of the horses and permission was grudgingly granted by a distracted Don Diego who immediately went back into his secretive huddle with Elena the moment Julie left the room.
Felicia proved to be an apt instructor and within a few days Julie was enjoying a brisk trot around the yard. Felicia was pleased with her pupil, telling Julie that she was a born horsewoman. Julie wished she could show Rod her new accomplishment but he had not been home for a week. Oddly enough, she missed him. The sardonic lift to his dark brows, his mocking smile, even the expression in his eyes that told her he found her desirable. Rod might not love her but there was no denying he wanted her.
Two days later Rod returned. The roundup had been completed and the cattle being fattened in preparation of their long trek to San Antonio. Julie was riding with Felicia and did not see him until later, after he had cleaned up and was sitting on the veranda with Elena, obviously waiting for her.
Rod watched avidly as Julie, accompanied by an attractive child, rode up to the hacienda. He admired her trim figure, her upright carriage in the saddle, the way her honey-colored hair floated free in the wind behind her. She is beautiful, he thought, watching intently as she spoke to the child then raised her head in laughter. The tinkling sound was like music to his ears.
“Your wife spends all her time with that silly child,” remarked Elena disparagingly. “But then, she is little more than a child herself.”
Rod turned his eyes toward the little girl riding with Julie. For a moment he was struck by an elusive memory, as if there was something hauntingly familiar about the child. But whatever it was was quickly lost as he watched the little girl and his wife part. Julie dismounted and walked to where Rod sat with Elena.
“I had no idea you could ride, querida,” Rod drawled lazily.
“Felicia taught me,” Julie replied, smiling proudly.
“An attractive child,” Rod admitted thoughtfully. “Is she the daughter of one of the vaqueros?”
“She is Teresa’s niece. I’ve grown very fond of her.”
“If she is Teresa’s niece, then she is a mestizo,” sniffed Elena disdainfully.
Julie bristled at Elena’s condescending tone but before she could retort, Don Diego made his presence known. “So, mi hijo, your work on the range is done. It is good. We will fatten the cattle up a few weeks before we begin the drive to San Antonio.”
“Si, mi padre. The herd has fared well this year. The vaqueros worked hard and need a rest before they begin the drive. Will you accompany us to San Antonio?”
“I have other plans, Rodrigo,” he said cryptically. “And now that we are all together, I will tell you about them.” He glanced meaningfully at Elena then moved to stand behind her chair, laying his hands possessively upon her slim shoulders. Elena blushed prettily as Rod waited curiously for his father to continue. Julie already had an inkling of what Don Diego was about to say.
“Since your return from San Francisco, Rodrigo, I have sought a way to make up to Elena for your thoughtless disregard of family honor. It was understood from the moment of Elena’s birth that she was to become a Delgado.”
“Padre, I …”
“No, Rodrigo, allow me to finish,” chided Don Diego sternly. “As I was saying, Rodrigo, you deliberately chose to ignore your duty when you married another against my wishes. The fact that the wedding plans had been put into motion, the invitations sent out, meant nothing to you. But I do not hold honor so lightly.” Rod scowled but said nothing.
“To cancel the wedding would heap humiliation upon Elena as well as insult an old and dear family friend. The wedding will take place as planned.”
“Padre!” gasped Rod, jumping to his feet in alarm. “Would you have me commit adultry?”
Slanting him a scathing glance, Don Diego calmly continued. “Elena has consented to become my bride. Nothing will have changed except for the name of the bridegroom.”
“Por Dios, Padre, have you gone loco?” exploded Rod. “You are no longer a young man.”
“No, mi hijo, you are the one who is loco. I know the responsibilities of duty. Elena was meant to be a Delgado, and so she shall be. I am free to take a wife and certainly not too old to produce another heir,” he said indignantly, drawing himself up proudly.
“What will your friends think?” Rod queried, still unable to accept his father’s shocking decision. In desperation he turned to Elena. “Is this what you want? To marry an old man?” Somehow the thought was obscene.
Elena smiled a secret smile. It was obvious to her that Rod was jealous, just as she intended for him to be. “Your father has done me a great honor as well as saved me from embarrassment,” she shrugged, eyes properly downcast.
Julie was deeply hurt by Rod’s blatant display of jealousy. It only served to reinforce her belief that he was in love with the delectable Elena.
It was obvious to Rod that both Elena and his father were prepared to overcome all obstacles and marry despite the difference in their ages, and no matter what their friends might think. But he felt it his duty to try one more time to dissuade his father from such folly, Elena was too young, too vital, for a staid, middleaged man set in his ways. To his way of thinking, a marriage between Don Diego and Elena was a travesty.
“What will your friends think when you take my place as bridegroom? Will you not feel … uncomfortable, Padre?”
“If our friends think the arrangements strange they will keep it to themselves. They are much too polite to humiliate their host with questions. In less than two weeks Elena and I will be wed and by this time next year I may even have another heir. One who will be obedient to my wishes.”
Once again Julie was made to feel like an interloper as she was completely and thoroughly ignored. Her opinion was neither asked for nor given. Unnoticed by the three people caught up in the heated conversation, Julie crept into the house, going directly to her room after asking Teresa to have a tub filled for her in her room.
As Julie relaxed in the hot bath she tried to visualize her life in this house with Elena as mistress. It was bad enough living here while Elena was merely a guest. Her life would become unbearable, Julie concluded sadly. Although Elena was marrying Don Diego it was obvious she wanted the son, not the father. How long would it take for Rod and Elena to succumb to their mutual desire and become lovers? Having Elena permanently in the same house would prove too great a temptation to a passionate man like Rod, Julie was quick to realize, especially since he held no strong feeling for his own wife.
The longer Julie thought about the deplorable triangle she found herself emerged in, the more upset she became. She knew Rod wanted children, expected them, actually. So he would continue to do his duty by her, making love to her, all the while wishing it was Elena lying beneath him. Well, she would stand proxy for no woman, she decided in a fit of determination. Let Don Diego beget the heirs. Rod could find his pleasure elsewhere for all she cared. Julie was certain Elena would be happy to accommodate him once she was married.
“Aren’t you afraid your skin will pucker up, querida?” Rod asked lazily, a sardonic grin quirking one winged brow.
Julie was so immersed in her own misery that she did not hear Rod open the connecting door or notice him slouching against the door jamb watching her through slitted eyes. “What are you doing here, Rod?” she asked crossly.
“Is that any way to greet a bridegroom you haven’t seen in nearly two weeks?” he asked, assuming a pained expression. “You hurt my feelings, querida.”
&
nbsp; “Go away, Rod.”
For an answer Rod came out of his slouch and ambled forward until he stood beside the tub. Julie gasped with indignation as he lifted her easily from the cooling water and set her on her feet. Scooping up a towel placed nearby for her use, he began to dry her with meticulous care until her body assumed a rosy glow and her flesh tingled deliciously. Repeatedly she attempted to twist from his grasp, remembering her decision of only moments before in which she vowed to remain aloof, but he was too strong for her and once again her wayward flesh was betraying her. Sighing in exasperation she allowed him to have his way, gritting her teeth to keep from reacting to the pleasurable friction caused by the rough towel against her suddenly tender skin. Rod grinned impishly, knowing exactly what he was doing to her.
Finally, he tossed aside the wet towel, his patience at an end, and eased her backwards until her knees hit the edge of the bed and she sat down heavily.
Immediately she was on her feet, but Rod gently eased her down again, this time holding her there with the weight of his own body.
“Do you mean to deny me, querida?” he asked, amused. “I told you before, our marriage would not be in name only. I’ve missed you, mi alma. I find I’ve acquired a taste for your silken flesh.”
“Is that all I am to you, Rod? A warm body? If so, then you would do just as well with a puta from the village.”
Rod was puzzled. What did she want from him, he wondered? “Of course that’s not all you mean to me. You are my wife. Didn’t I give up my intended bride for you? You are to be the mother of my children. What more do you want from me? I stood up to my father for you; hurt a lovely, unsuspecting woman in your behalf. What more can I offer?”
For the first time in her life, Julie felt truly defeated. To Rod’s way of thinking he had given her all that he was capable of giving. His love was reserved for Elena and she was left with the crumbs. He would continue to make love to her because it was his duty and because he was a virile man who enjoyed women, but for no other reason.
“You’re right, Rod,” Julie recognized wryly. “I have no right to expect anything more from you.”
“Then be quiet, querida, and let me make love to you,” Rod said, his voice softening. “Your body is made for love. Everything about you pleases me. The silky feel of your skin against my lips and hands, the way you respond to my touch, your soft cries when I please you. Dios, Julie, I am burning with desire.”
Julie was lost from the moment of his first caress. Rod’s gentle love words told her he was not totally immune to her, that he had some feelings for her, even if they were purely physical. At least it was a start.
“Oh, Rod,” Julie sighed wistfully, “if only things could have happened differently between us.”
“You talk too much, querida, and make no sense. Let’s just enjoy each other for now and forget all else. You are so beautiful and I want you desperately. Let that suffice.”
He began gently, carefully and patiently arousing her as he lavished special attention on first one breast and then the other, tonguing both nipples into erect points of fire. Julie gasped aloud as he took each pink bud deep into his mouth and sucked greedily. When his hand insinuated itself between her damp thighs and found the tiny bud of her feminity nestled amid curling hairs, Julie could not still her restless hips from writhing beneath his searching fingers.
His mouth stilled her soft whimpers, shattering whatever sense of reality that might have lingered. His drugging kiss demanded a response, and she freely gave it, drowning in the desire he had created.
“Dios, Julie,” Rob groaned hoarsely. “You are so sweet. You taste like honey.”
As if to prove his words, his lips and tongue were everywhere, no part of her dewy flesh was sacrosanct as he teased, tasted and probed every plane and crevice of her body. Only when she pleaded for release did Rod shift slightly and hastily shed his own constricting clothing before settling again between her outstretched legs. Despite her rampaging emotions Julie could not help but admire the smoothness of his dark skin, reaching out tentatively to caress a muscular flank. Rod shivered, her touch sending hot splinters of desire racing through his veins. He grasped her hand, startling her by placing it around his huge erection. “Feel my need, querida?” Rod murmured huskily. “Open your legs, mi amor. Guide me to paradise.”
Entering her slowly, their bodies were in sweet harmony with one another, moving cautiously at first, then faster, until his body began to vibrate with liquid fire. Suddenly she was hurtled beyond the point of no return, her outcry of delight mingling with Rod’s harsh cries as he, too, went spiraling into a world beyond reality where only the two of them existed.
Afterwards Julie was filled with an amazing sense of completeness as she listened to Rod’s even breathing. Although Rod voiced satisfaction with a marriage based on desire alone she wanted more, much more. Was love too much to hope for, Julie wondered, as she nestled deeper into the curve of Rod’s body. Was gaining her husband’s love an impossible goal to aim for? How could she expect him to love her when he loved Elena? On that bitter note Julie sank into sleep’s waiting arms.
9
The next days passed in a whirlwind of activity as wedding preparations for Elena and Don Diego began in earnest. The ceremony was less than a week away and the house servants were cleaning and polishing with a vengeance. Cook and her helpers were preparing enough food for an army, or so it seemed to Julie. A huge fiesta was to be held immediately following the ceremony and all the vqueros and their families were invited. Teresa told Julie that the festivities would last far into the night when the house servants were allowed to join the celebration.
Though Julie and Rod were to act as witnesses to the wedding, Julie was left much to her own devices as the three other family members appeared to band together. She spent more and more time with Felicia, learning that both the child’s parents were dead, killed by Indians, and she had been given to Teresa and Jose when Teresa’s own baby died at birth. More than that the pretty child did not know.
Of Rod, Julie saw little until late at night when he sought her bed. And when he did, freed from the heavy weight of his father’s disapproval and Elena’s disappointment, he became another person, tender, loving, caring. Though he made no mention of love during their long nights of ecstasy, Julie was certain he cared for her. His ardent lovemaking told her that much. Her own feelings for the dynamic, sensuous man she married were more complex.
Julie was certain she could never love a man who didn’t love her in return. But to her chagrin, she discovered that the heart followed no rules. Against her will she found herself falling deeply in love with her own husband. It was a source of amazement that one look from him could send her blood singing through her veins; a single touch render her weak and helpless with desire. One word of love from him and she would have bared her soul, Julie realized, aware of the hopelessness of her cause.
One day while Julie was out riding with Felicia, the child asked innocently, “What are you wearing to the fiesta, señora?”
“I haven’t given it much thought, chiquita,” Julie answered, frowning. She had brought little enough with her to San Francisco and had nothing new since. “One of my better dresses, I suppose.” Rod rarely looked at her during the day to notice her lack of clothing and at night he preferred her naked.
“If you would permit it, señora,” suggested Felicia shyly, “I would like to give you a dress to wear. It is a very beautiful dress.”
“Where would you get a dress like that, niña?” asked Julie curiosly.
“Tia Teresa told me it belonged to a young woman who used to work here. It will be many years before I am able to wear it,” Felicia informed her. “It would make me very happy if you wear it. When Don Rodrigo sees you in it he can’t help but love you.”
Julie was amazed at the child’s perception. Was she so transparent, she wondered distractedly, that a mere child could look into her soul and see the unrequited love trapped there? Even more ast
ounding was the fact that Felicia knew that Rod cared so little for his own wife. Was it common knowledge around the rancho that Don Rodrigo was in love with Elena despite the fact that he had married an Anglo? That in reality he yearned for another?
“If the dress fits, I will wear it gladly, Felicia,” Julie finally said. Her words were rewarded with a bright smile and a hug.
The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear. It was warm, but not too warm. The day before, long tables had been set out in the courtyard to display all the food and a platform was built to hold the mariachi band engaged for the event. The wedding ceremony itself would take place indoors in the small chapel that served the family for many years. Padre Juan would perform the rites against an altar banked with hundreds of flowers and burning candles. Seven o’clock in the evening was the time set for the ceremony with the fiesta to follow immediately afterwards.
Julie was excited and pleased with the dress Felicia presented to her on the day of the wedding. No one, not even Rod, had seen it, so it would be a complete surprise to everyone. Somehow Julie had gotten the idea that not even Teresa knew Felicia had given her the gown so she did not call her maid in to help her dress. At the last minute she decided against putting her hair up, choosing instead to let it hang loose in a riot of waves to her waist.
The wedding guests were already seated when Julie entered the chapel on Rod’s arm. Rod was stunned , when he had first seen her. She looked hauntingly lovely in a dress that gave him a vague feeling of unease, as if he had seen it before on someone who meant a lot to him. But of course that was impossible. Rod allowed his eyes to roam freely over her trim figure seductively displayed in the two-piece cotton dress. The extremely low neckline of the camisa was embroidered with turqoise and pink flowers, the puffed sleeves pulled off the shoulders in a display of creamy white flesh that set his blood racing through his veins. The vivid turquoise skirt that billowed over several petticoats was embroidered at hem and waistband with pink and silver flowers.
