by Connie Mason
Rod was so enchanted by Julie’s appearance that he gave little thought to the fact that her choice of apparel was vastly unsuited for an artistocratic Spanish wedding. Or that a well bred Anglo would not appear in public dressed as a mestiza. Even Julie was unaware of the sensation her appearance caused. Most of the guests had come prepared to witness a marriage between Don Rodrigo Delgado and Elena Montoya, and the mumur of surprise that rippled through the chapel when it became obvious that Rod was not to be the bridegroom became a low rumble. But the collective gasp of shock when Don Diego stood before the altar ablaze with hundreds of twinkling candles, was deafening.
Elena looked like a fragile magnolia blossom in a traditional gown of creamy satin and lace fashioned with high neck and long pointed sleeves. She carried a huge bouquet of white flowers and her face and hair was completely covered with a white mantilla held in place by a high jeweled comb. Grudgingly, Julie conceded she looked virginal and extremely lovely. From the rapt expression on Rod’s chiseled features it was obvious he felt the same way. But if the truth be known, Rod’s thoughts were on his own wife and not on his father’s bride.
Don Diego was correct in his assumption that his friends would be too polite to ask questions concerning the strange turn of events. The congratulations bestowed upon the couple following the ceremony were given freely and without reservation.
The first free moment Elena had she made directly for Julie and Rod, her black eyes shooting fire. “How dare you show up at my wedding looking like a puta from the village!” she spat angrily. “I expected you to dress with dignity befitting the wife of a Spanish don.”
Julie gasped at the insult, red dots of rage exploding behind her brain. She wanted to scratch Elena’s eyes out but refrained from embarrassing Rod with her hoydenish behavior.
“I think Julie looks charming, Elena,” allowed Rod, shocking both women. “I’m sure you’re placing too much importance on her choice of apparel.” Julie’s smile was blinding, further enchanting Rod.
Exasperated, Elena whirled on her heel and was quickly swallowed up by a throng of well wishers while Rod led Julie to another group whom she hadn’t yet met. That evening Julie became acquainted with so many friends and neighbors that she felt her head swimming with tongue-twisting Spanish names.
Shortly afterwards the feasting and music began in the courtyard illuminated by hundreds of lanterns strung on lines high above the festivities. An orchestra of the best vaquero musicians softly serenaded the guests with guitars and marimbas. Julie found herself whirled from partner to partner as the exuberant vaqueros joined the celebration. From the corner of her eye she could see Rod dancing with Elena and reluctantly thought they made an attractive couple. Rod was dressed all in black and silver, his short bolero jacket and tight trousers leaving nothing to the imagination. Julie cared little for the brazen way in which Elena flirted with Rod, her dark eyes sending messages only a husband should receive.
Don Diego was oblivious to Elena’s faults. It was obvious to all that he was completely infatuated with his bride. But Don Diego was far from feeling the confidant bridegroom he pretended. It had been a long time since he had bedded a woman. And even longer since he had a woman as young and beautiful as Elena. For years his desire for a woman had waned so as to be practically nonexistant. Until he decided to wed Elena, that is. Now his one burning desire was to consummate his marriage, to become the lover he was in his youth, to father another heir upon his young bride and thus prove his virility before all the world.
In order to bolster his courage, Don Diego imbibed freely of the alcoholic beverages he had thoughtfully provided for his guests so that by the time the guests began departing, the proud Spaniard had to be helped to his bridal chamber by some of his boisterous friends. Elena followed demurely, her sensuous lips curved in a secret smile.
Alone in their room Elena moved unerringly to a bottle of wine she had ordered earlier to be placed in their room. Don Diego made an ineffectual swipe at her passing figure but missed, causing him to frown with confusion.
“I wish to toast my husband privately,” Elena said coyly, handing him a brimming glass of burgundy liquid.
“I don’t think, Elena,” began the don hesitantly, “that I need any more strong drink. The sight of my beautiful wife is heady enough without the aid of liquor.”
“Just one, my husband,” pleaded Elena, pouting prettily, “to please me.”
“How can I resist so pretty a request?” Don Diego shrugged helplessly, accepting the glass. His hand, usually so steady, shook so badly he spilled several drops on his pure white shirt.
While he sipped his wine, Elena began undressing slowly, pausing from time to time to refill her husband’s empty glass. Don Diego, so entranced by his wife’s partially clad body, barely noticed as the level in the wine bottle dropped dramatically. By the time Elena had donned a filmy nightgown that revealed more than it concealed, the elderly don was literally drooling.
“Go to bed, my husband,” Elena purred silkily. “I will come to you as soon as I comb out my hair.”
Don Diego needed no further urging as he threw off his clothes and staggered drunkenly to the bed, sliding confidently between the sheets. He was certain he would acquit himself admirably this night with his young bride. Elena kept her eyes purposely averted from her husband’s nude body, having no desire to view his aging flesh, so different from that of his virile son. By the time Elena slipped into bed beside her sleeping bridegroom, he was snoring lustily, his open mouth and sagging jaw objects of disgust to the young and beautiful woman. Don Diego was deep in his dreams, completely unaware of Elena’s stiffened body lying next to him. In his dreams he was a young stallion again, vigorously claiming his wife’s maidenhead, her cries of joy bringing a smile to his lips.
In another part of the sprawling house Julie retired alone. Rod was busy seeing to the comfort of their guests who would remain overnight. Julie was exhausted, for tonight she had been much sought after by hidalgos and vaqueros alike, anxious to claim her hand for one of the lively dances. Several times during the evening she caught Rod frowning at her as she whirled about the yard in the arms of a handsome man. By the time Rod crept into her room much later, she was sound asleep. He wanted badly to awaken her, to make love to her, but against his better judgment he let her sleep, returning to his room unsated and aching with desire for the amber haired enchantress he had reluctantly married.
Elena listened with annoyance to the disgusting sounds coming from her sleeping husband. The house was quiet as she arose from her virginal marriage bed and padded on bare feet through the silent hallways, pausing before a closed door, her ears attuned to the slightest sound within. Turning the knob carefully, the door opened on well oiled hinges and Elena peered inside, by now her eyes accustomed to the darkness. Perceiving no activity from the vicinity of the bed, she slipped wraith-like inside the room, closing the door noiselessly behind her. Catlike, she crept to the bed and eased herself beside the sleeping man.
Though drugged by sleep, Rod’s body reacted violently to the softly curved form pressing urgently against him. Moving restlessly, in a state somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, Rod’s arms closed about the warm woman’s flesh, murmuring softly, “Ah, querida, I’m glad you have come to me. My body aches for you.”
Rod’s hands began a slow arousal of Elena’s quivering flesh as his mouth tasted greedily, devoured hungrily. Unhesitantly he drew the thin nightgown over her silken body and flung it aside.
“You smell like roses,” Rod murmured, burying his lips in the soft hollow of her throat. Elena whimpered in response.
Elena’s mouth was open and eager when Rod’s lips covered hers hungrily. His seeking tongue sent shivers of delight racing through her and she clung to his broad shoulders, fearful she would drown in an eddy of desire. Slowly his lips traveled downward to caress a sensitive swollen nipple. For the first time in her life Elena was experiencing true passion as her body squirmed beneath his. Ta
king her hand he guided it to himself while his own hands roamed freely between her outstretched legs, his fingers exploring the inner reaches of her femininity. Elena was electrified by his hardness as a moan of ecstasy slipped through her lips.
Rod took the sound as a signal to sate their mutual passion as he rose above her and thrust forward sharply, all gentleness forgotten in the heat of passion. He felt Elena stiffen, stifling a cry of pain as he brutally assaulted her maidenhead, and he froze. But Elena would have none of it, urging him on with words of encouragement as well as by wrapping her arms and legs about him so he could not escape.
Had he wanted to, Rod would have been unable to stop. He was well past the point of no return as his body took hers fiercely, pumping, grinding, burying himself to the hilt in soft, moist flesh. Elena matched his urgency with her own lusty, unsated needs. Rod’s tormented groan was a heady invitation and soon both achieved the ultimate joy as they whirled and spun into a world of their own making.
“Rodrigo, mi amor,” whispered Elena when her breath slowed enough to speak. “My true husband. I knew you wouldn’t deny me the wedding night I have dreamed of.”
Rod shook his head groggily, painfully aware that he had just deflowered his father’s bride. But it was difficult to think clearly while eager lips were nibbling playfully at his neck and chest and tiny hands exploring his flesh. Then suddenly the words the woman in his arms had spoken became all too clear. Wedding night? True husband? The full impact of his deed this night hit him and the breath left his lungs in a mighty whoosh.
“Por Dios!” he cried aloud. “Madre de Dios, Elena, what are you doing in my bed? Where is my father?”
“Your padre is sleeping peacefully, Rodrigo,” said Elena complacently. “We need not worry for hours. I fear Don Diego has drunk himself into a stupor.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to seek another bed on this of all nights,” condemned Rod, horrified.
“I deserve a proper wedding night, Rodrigo,” replied Elena sullenly. “For years I’ve dreamed of nothing but how it would feel being made love to by you. I couldn’t let an old man take what is rightfully yours.”
“This is impossible, Elena. I have a wife and you are married to my father. Go back to his bed. Forget this ever happened and act like a dutiful wife.”
“Bastardo!” spat Elena, black eyes flashing dangerously.
“Please, Elena,” pleaded Rod, “Julie lies sleeping just beyond that door.”
Inexplicably, Julie’s slender form rose up to mock him, her beautiful face condemning him for his terrible sin.
“Bah,” chided Elena scornfully, “if your wife was any kind of a woman she would be sleeping at your side instead of in another room. Do not tell me you love her because I know better.”
Rod was too busy removing Elena’s caressing hands from the various parts of his body to answer. At length he found his voice. “Elena, Dios mio, stop tormenting me before I forget you are my father’s wife!”
“Make love to me again, Rodrigo, it was beautiful, just like I dreamed,” breathed Elena, clutching at his shoulders frantically.
“Have you forgotten something, Elena?” ground out Rod in a hoarse voice, his self control rapidly vanishing beneath Elena’s silken trap. “How will you explain your lack of virginity to your husband?”
Elena laughed, a high tinkling sound. “Simple. When he awakens in the morning I will tell him what a magnificent lover he is. There will even be drops of blood on the sheet to prove my words as well as support his own virility.
“Perdicion! You have it all figured out!”
“Si, mi amor,” returned Elena’s silken whisper. “Everything but how to convince you to make love to me again.”
“My wife—”
“Has nothing to do with this. This moment in time was preordained long ago. Nothing and no one can alter the fact that I love you and belong only to you, Rodrigo. No other man had a right to claim what has always been yours.”
Elena’s impassioned words seemed to release Rod’s inhibitions as he felt her silken flesh glide over his hardening body and all coherent thought fled in a rush of heat so intense he felt himself dissolve into white hot lava. Then suddenly Rod seemed to regain his wits as he rudely pushed Elena aside. How could he behave in such a despicable manner? “Go back to my father, Elena. I will try to forget this happened, if you will.”
Deciding not to push Rod any further tonight, Elena obediently arose and left the room, smiling a contented smile. Silently she slid into the bed she shared with Don Diego, but not before puncturing the tip of her finger with a darning needle and smearing blood on the sheets.
Rod’s guilt over what happened that night was such that it took all the courage he possessed to face Julie at the breakfast table the next morning. Their conversation was brief and stilted until Elena sailed blithely into the room, fairly sparkling with happiness. The long, loving look she bestowed on Rod was not missed by Julie.
“Marriage seems to agree with you, Elena,” Julie remarked sourly.
“It does when one has a magnificent lover,” purred Elena, slanting a sidelong glance at Rod that spoke volumns.
Somehow Julie couldn’t imagine the aging Don Diego as a magnificent lover. But then, Elena probably had no basis for comparison. “Where is Don Diego this morning?” Julie asked curiously.
“Still abed,” smirked Elena. “The poor darling is exhausted after … after all the activity of yesterday.”
Abruptly Rod jumped up and fled, nearly upsetting his chair in his haste to be gone. Julie’s puzzled frown followed him from the room while Elena suddenly became intensely interested in her food.
Don Diego entered somewhat sheepishly about then, placed a fond kiss on his wife’s brow and took his seat at the head of the table. Julie thought he looked haggared and older than his years, and wondered vaguely what Elena had done to cause the change. Could it be that Don Diego was unable to satisfy the passionate Elena, Julie wondered? stifling a giggle behind her hand. Deciding to leave the newlyweds alone, Julie went off to find Felicia.
The moment they were alone, Don Diego began apologizing profusely to his bride. “Elena, mi amor, you must forgive me.”
“Forgive you?” Elena asked innocently. “Whatever for?”
“For drinking too much. For falling asleep on such a momentous occasion. I must have been a great disappointment to you.”
“On the contrary, Diego. You were all a woman could want in a husband. A tender lover, passionate, skillful. You were wonderful. A tiger among men.” If Elena had any doubt that her words held a ring of truth she had only to behold Don Diego’s glowing face.
“I do not remember … all of what happened,” admitted Don Diego sheepishly, blinking his eyes rapidly. “But, this morning, the blood on the sheets. I … I hope I did not hurt you, mi alma.”
“I told you, Diego, you made me very happy,” Elena assured him. “You were very gentle.”
Late that night, in the privacy of their bedroom, Don Diego tried unsuccessfully to bed his wife. No matter how hard he tried, his efforts were met with failure. It couldn’t have made Elena happier.
“Perhaps a drink will help, my husband,” Elena suggested slyly, “to relax you. After last night you are probably exhausted.”
Gratefully Don Diego followed his wife’s suggestion. One drink led to another until his head slumped upon his chest and he began snoring noisily. When gentle shaking failed to awaken him, Elena left the bed, generously splashed on her favorite scent, and tiptoed through the dark halls into Rod’s room. Somehow she knew he would be alone.
After carefully avoiding Julie most of the day, Rod wanted desperately to go to her tonight. But he was afraid that somehow she would discover his despicable secret, that he had cuckholded his own father, albeit unintentionally. So he kept to his own bed despite the fact that he wanted to bid her a proper goodbye. In just a few hours the vaqueros would begin the cattle drive and he was to join them.
As t
he day passed Julie was perplexed by Rod’s cool behavior. It seemed to her that he deliberately went out of his way to avoid her. She knew Rod was due to leave the next day and he had not come to her bed since before his father’s wedding. Was she imagining things or was his unwillingness to make love to her directly related to that event? Julie couldn’t help but wonder. Elena certainly seemed happy in her marriage. She was absolutely blooming these days.
As the day wore on, Julie decided that if Rod didn’t come to her tonight she would go to him. After all, he would be gone for weeks and she could not allow him to go without learning the reason for his aloofness. Thus it was that Julie opened the connecting door just as Elena shed her nightgown and slid into Rod’s bed. Neither saw Julie lurking in the shadow of the doorway. But Rod had left a candle burning on the nightstand and Julie had no trouble making out their forms entwined on the bed.
In silent rage she listened as Rod reared upon his elbows and said, “Elena, what in the hell are you doing here?”
“Your father was more amorous than usual tonight, mi amor,” Elena laughed, “and it took much wine to render him senseless. At least he has the comfort of his dreams in which he is still a vigorous lover instead of an impotent fool.”
“You’re the fool, Elena, if you think to continue with this … this outrageous behavior. You are married to my father and I have no wish to betray my wife. You fooled me once, but no more.”
“No, Rodrigo, don’t say that. You took my maidenhead and I belong to you. Make love to me. I burn for you.”
Julie’s loud gasp of outrage alerted them to her presence as both heads turned in her direction, but she was too stunned to move. Evidently this was not the first time Elena and Rod had made love. How long had this been going on? Seeing her stricken expression, Rod groaned as if in pain. Not so Elena. Her triumphant smile goaded Julie into action. Spinning about on her heel, nightgown swirling about her ankles displaying a pair of well-turned calves, she slammed the door with a loud bang that reverberated throughout the silent house.
