by Connie Mason
Julie was not unaware of Murieta’s feelings. His dark, fathomless eyes upon her night and day spoke volumes about his feelings. But she remained unaffected by his masculine magnetism. No other man could take Rod’s place, not even one who treated her as well as Murieta. Daily, she prayed for her father’s quick recovery so that they could leave before Murieta took it into his head to openly demonstrate his affections.
One humid night, Julie found the cabin she shared with her father hot and stifling and ventured outside to catch a breath of air. The bandits had not yet returned and she knew the danger to her was slight. Instinct led her to the stream that bissected the meadow and Julie stared meditatively at the moonlit shadows dappling the silvery water. Though the stream was not wide, at places it was waist deep and Julie felt the sudden urge to immerse herself in the cooling depths.
Bowing to impulse, she recklessly shrugged out of her calzonazos, pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it carelessly on the ground. For a second she poised there, her nude body bathed in silver, offering herself to the gods.
From a short distance away Murieta stood watching, his breath caught painfully in his chest as he stared at the beauty so unexpectedly presented to him. She was a goddess, an ethereal creature of ivory and silver, offering herself to a moon lover.
A slight breeze blew her honey locks in wild disarray about her back, the slim curve of her buttocks a delicate silver arc, the long, lithe legs gleaming like pale ivory. His eyes traced the tantalizing thrust of full breasts, the concave stomach, the silky triangle that tempted him beyond restraint.
Desire choked him, all the hungry yearnings of the past days rising up to conquer his very reason. Like a man in a trance he started forward, discarding his clothing on the way.
Julie slid into the water, laughing delightedly at the silken feel of the cool water rushing by her heated body. Playing, she turned on her back. And then she saw him; his fully aroused naked body clearly revealed in the moonlight. Unashamedly he walked slowly toward her. Mesmerized, Julie was unable to take her eyes from the sheer masculine beauty of Murieta’s male form. His sleek, poweful body was much like Rod’s, moving with the same sinuous grace of a forest animal. The blue-black hair glinted with silver lights. Helplessly, Julie moved her eyes to the fine matting of silky hair that grew on his broad chest, then lower, following the thin line of dark hair trialing across his taut stomach to his formidable manhood.
Murieta stepped into the water and Julie froze, knowing exactly what would happen if he entered. “No, Joaquin, stay where you are,” she pleaded, her voice quivering weakly.
“I know this is madness, chica, but I cannot escape it. I didn’t want this to happen. I fought against it since I first saw you curled up asleep next to your father.”
“I’m Rod’s wife. I love him.”
“Julie, don’t deny me, cara mia. I have a feeling that I will never see you again. Let me have this one night to carry into eternity.”
Slowly his hands closed around her shoulders, pulling her to him, the bouyancy of the water making the movements almost dreamlike. Their limbs met, the water lapping around their bodies. His mouth crushed down on hers as his hands curled around her naked buttocks, bringing her even closer, making her intensely aware of the full arousal of his lean body.
Exerting all the strength she possessed, Julie pulled away. She did not want this. She wanted only Rod. The thought of another man’s hands exploring her body intimately sickened her. If she couldn’t have Rod she wanted no one.
“No, Joaquin, don’t do this,” she pleaded softly. “Rod may not love me but I won’t betray him. I don’t want you.”
“I love you, querida,” Joaquin gasped raggedly. “We both know my days on earth are numbered. Allow me this one last taste of happiness.”
Julie tried to protest but he stilled her words with a wave of the hand. “No, Julie, it’s true. There is a price on my head and a bandit’s life is a violent one. But if you allow me to love you, I will have no regrets,” he said hopefully.
“I’m sorry, Joaquin,” Julie said regretfully, walking slowly toward the shore. “I can’t change my feelings.”
“Si,” Murieta nodded solemnly. “Rodrigo is a lucky man. I knew that from the beginning. But if Elena’s story is true, then he doesn’t deserve your love.”
“I can’t help it, Joaquin. Perhaps one day I will learn the truth. But even if Rod doesn’t love me, I don’t ever expect to love again.”
“Ah, chica,” he smiled sadly. “You are young, passionate, full of life. Do not give up so easily. One day happiness will come to you and when it does, remember Joaquin Murieta; remember that he loved you but respected your feelings.” Long afterwards Julie was to recall his prophetic words.
The next day Paco, Jose, and the others returned to camp. The time had come for Julie to leave.
13
When Rod, in the company of his saddle weary vaqueros set foot on Delgado land, he was suffused with a happiness that surprised him. The weeks of his absence seemed more like years. Why, he wondered curiously? Why was it any different now than it had been before? Smiling ruefully, Rod answered his own question. Julie! Julie’s presence on the rancho made all the difference in the world. There had never been a honey-haired, blue-eyed witch waiting for him before, if indeed she was waiting for him at all.
Flushing, Rod could not help but recall how cruelly he had used her the night before he left home. Por Dios, how she had goaded him! If only she hadn’t discovered Elena in his room. Elena meant nothing to him. Though he was confused as to his actual feelings for his wife, he certainly had missed her these past weeks.
In his heart, Rod refused to acknowledge that it was love he felt for the slim wisp of a golden beauty he had married. His mind was a contradiction of emotions. Inexplicably, he recalled the silken murmur of her skin against his, the desire that swept over him whenever she was near, the sweet perfume of her flesh that was hers alone, driving him mad with yearning, Would she welcome him with open arms, he wondered eagerly? Or was she still angry at him for succumbing to Elena’s subtle seduction that one time? He fervently hoped that in his absense Elena had settled down to become a proper wife to his father for he vowed never again to touch the woman carnally. Why should he when it was Julie he wanted?
A collective whoop of joy rent the air when the hacienda came into view. Horses were spurred and crops judiciously employed in the vaquero’s race to their homes and families. Rod was beside them all the way, as eager as a young boy to greet his loved ones.
Elena waited on the veranda looking as serene and lovely as always. A twinge of disappointment settled between Rod’s shoulders as he searched in vain for Julie. When he failed to see her the pleasure of his homecoming tasted like ashes in his mouth. Not even his father was on hand to greet him and Rod wondered if somehow Diego found out that he had been betrayed by his wife and son.
Elena was in his arms the moment he dismounted, oblivious to the layers of trail dust and a week’s growth of beard on his chin. “Rodrigo, caro, how glad I am to see you! If only you knew what I’ve gone through since you left!”
For the first time Rod noticed her black garb and a stab of fear punctured his heart. His first thoughts were of Julie and her failure to greet him. “Julie! Has something happened to my wife, Elena? Tell me, damn you, tell me!”
Assuming a tragic expression even though she wanted to laugh gleefully, Elena ventured, “Oh, Rodrigo, it happened so suddenly. Neither of us knew what was happening until it was too late.”
“What happened, Elena? Por Dios! Too late for what?” In his anxiety Rod was unaware that he had grasped Elena’s slim shoulders and was shaking her relentlessly.
“Por favor, Rodrigo! Stop! How can I answer with my teeth rattling?”
Immediately Rod released her. “I’m sorry, Elena,” he apologized. “Where is my wife? Is … is she dead?”
“Murieta has her.”
“What! Murieta! Perdicion! I don’t belie
ve it!”
“It’s true. Julie and I were out riding when Murieta’s men surrounded us.”
Rod eyed Elena narrowly. “How is it that you escaped and Julie did not?”
Elena shrugged her elegant shoulders, for some reason the gesture infuriating Rod. “They didn’t want me. Pedro, Murieta’s lieutenant, made it abundantly clear that his leader wanted only your wife.”
Rod cursed roundly, suddenly recalling Murieta’s threat of long ago to steal Julie. “Has there been no ransom note? No word of any kind?”
Eyes downcast, Elena shook her dark tresses. “I’m sorry, mi amor. I received no communication or demand for money since Julie was taken three weeks ago. In fact,” she stressed, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “Julie did not seem all that reluctant about accompanying Murieta’s men.”
“Are you telling me that Julie went willingly?” Rod croaked in disbelief.
Elena shrugged, looking at Rod pityingly. “It did seem that way, querido. Why else have we heard nothing?” she hinted maliciously. “By now she is either Murieta’s mistress or dead.”
“No!” shouted Rod. “I refuse to believe that Julie is dead. As for the other,” he said, his mouth drawn into a thin white line, “I’ll only believe that when I see it. Where was my father when all this was taking place? What has he done to find Julie?”
“Oh, Rodrigo, it pains me to be the bearer of such sad tidings. Your father is dead.”
Rod’s brows drew together in an agonized expression as he regarded Elena uncertainly. “Dead? My father is dead?”
“Si, querido,” Elena nodded sympathetically.
“I cannot believe it. He’s never been sick a day in his life.”
“He didn’t die from an illness, Rodrigo,” Elena informed him, feigning a sadness she did not feel. “It …it was an accident. A dreadful accident.”
“What kind of an accident?”
“Diego was cleaning his gun. It … it discharged accidentally and killed him instantly.”
“I find that difficult to swallow, Elena,” Rod repudiated. “My father was no novice with firearms. He would never allow anything like that to happen.”
“Accidents do happen, Rodrigo.”
Rod allowed the vaqueros only one night’s respite before he led them out the next morning in search of Murieta. If Elena was telling the truth, and he had no reason to doubt her, Julie had been kidnapped over three weeks ago. But had she really been abducted or did she go willingly like Elena suggested? It certainly was plausable enough, Rod considered, especially in view of his own despicable behavior toward his wife those last days before he left.
It was common knowledge that Murieta had a secret hideout somewhere in the Santa Lucia Mountains and Rod’s chances of finding it were practically nil. His fruitless and often frustrating search continued for well over a month, but in the end, Rod was forced to return to the rancho with his exhausted vaqueros. Julie had to be either dead or happily ensconced in the arms of Joaquin Murieta.
Reluctantly Rod took up the reins of leadership at the rancho, becoming el patron in his father’s place. Wisely Elena did not force the renewal of their relationship upon his return, preferring instead to let Rod make the first move. In his own way Rod grieved for his father, but selfishly Elena refused to believe he entertained any strong feelings for his missing wife, or that Julie’s abduction affected him strongly.
In that, Elena was wrong. Rod did grieve for Julie. His strong feelings for her surprised even him, and one day Elena learned how much Julie had left her imprint upon Rod.
Their conversation at supper that night left Elena angrier than she had ever been in her life.
“Rodrigo,” Elena began hesitantly, uncertain where to begin. “Your father is dead, you have grieved long enough. For all intents and purposes your wife no longer exists. Don’t you think it’s time we spoke to Padre Juan?”
A muscle throbbed in Rod’s lean jaw as he cut Elena a decidedly blank look. His voice was deceptively calm when he asked, “Whatever do you mean, Elena? What is it we must discuss with the good padre?”
“Don’t be so dense, mi amor,” Elena teased archly. “We are both young, both lonely. At one time we were betrothed. Would it be so wrong for us to seek comfort from one another? Would it not make sense for us to marry?”
“Por Dios, Elena, are you loco? You are still in mourning. Have you forgotten so soon that my father honored you with his name? What would our friends say?”
“They would see the wisdom of our marrying,” Elena shot back, exasperated by Rod’s stubbornness as well as his unwillingness to accept that which was meant to be. “Do you think there isn’t already much talk about us living alone here in the hacienda? Ask the vaqueros if you don’t believe me.”
“Padre Juan would never sanction our marriage,” Rod informed her coldly. “Talk or no talk, what you ask is impossible. There is no indication that Julie is dead. One day I will find her. And when I do, I hope she can forgive me for the wrong I did to her. It’s too late to apologize to my father but if I can make it up to Julie, I will.”
Elena turned away in disgust. There was more than one way to reach Rodrigo, she gloated, and it wasn’t through useless talk. She had gotten through to him once and she would again, she vowed, feline eyes glinting dangerously.
That night Rod sat up later than usual in his father’s study, consuming more of his favorite brandy than was his normal habit. Elena saw to it that he was well supplied. When finally he staggered groggily to his room, his mind filled with thoughts of Julie, Elena allowed him just enough time to fall asleep before she stealthily entered his room and climbed naked into his bed. At first contact with her warm body his arms went greedily around her and Elena sighed, pleased with his response and her own ability to bring about his capitulation. Without a doubt, she knew they would become lovers again.
Rod murmured in his sleep, the warm body pressed intimately against him, penetrating his deepest dreams. Instinctively he pulled the fragrant flesh closer, breathing in her special aroma. When the cloying smell of roses trickled beneath his senses, Rod’s eyes popped open, aware of the fact that Julie did not wear the scent of roses. Elena smiled beguilingly into his dark eyes.
“Elena, what in the hell are you doing here? I thought I made myself clear concerning our relationship.”
“You know you don’t mean that, Rodrigo,” Elena pouted prettily.
“I was never more serious in my life, Elena. I have neither the inclination nor the energy to make love to you tonight … or ever.”
“Then lay back, mi amor, and let me do all the work,” Elena purred seductively as she reached unerringly for his flaccid manhood, manipulating his limp member with such expertise that Rod’s reaction was automatic and instantaneous.
The moment her greedy mouth encompassed him, Rod bolted upright. “Por Dios, Elena, where did you learn that?” Elena was too caught up in sexual desire to answer.
Following Don Diego’s sudden death and during Rod’s absence, Elena often spent long pleasurable hours in the stable with Manuel. It had all begun when Manuel demanded her surrender as part of the bargain to get rid of Julie. At first Elena had been reluctant, but in the end loneliness and lust drove her into Manuel’s brawny arms. The vaquero was not particularly adept at lovemaking, but he was lusty and well versed in the many ways of sensual delights. Besides, he resembled Rod to the extent that Elena often fantasized that it was Rod who held her in his arms. Now, Elena was anxious to try all her newfound knowledge on Rodrigo.
Though Rod was shocked by Elena’s blatant act of lust, he could not help but become aroused by her soft, warm mouth. Elena laughed huskily when she felt his arousal between her lips and the sound brought Rod abruptly to his senses. Thoroughly disgusted with himself as well as with Elena’s attempt at seduction, he rudely shoved her aside.
“Not this time, bruja,” Rod flung out. “I won’t be beguiled by you again. If and when I decide to take a lover I will let you know, but
I wouldn’t wait for that day if I were you. I have no desire to bed you.”
Swearing profusely, Elena left in a huff. Later, Rod did not see her sneak out to the stables where Manuel welcomed her with open arms. Thoroughly rebuffed and humiliated, Elena decided it best to retreat until Rodrigo was in a more receptive mood. Therefore, in the days to follow, the tension between them eased somewhat.
One day Rod came upon Teresa as she went about her duties. Suddenly he remembered the enchanting child Julie had become so fond of and wondered why he never saw her about the rancho anymore. He decided to ask.
Teresa stared dumbly at Rod for a few minutes before answering. “Doña Elena did not like Felicia. The niña was warned to keep out of her way and was sent to the mission.”
“Why would Elena do such a thing?” asked Rod, thoroughly puzzled.
Teresa knew the answer but chose to hold her tongue. “Who knows, señor?” she shrugged, avoiding his piercing gaze.
“Tell the child to return immediately, por favor. I am el patron here, not Elena. I know Julie cared deeply for the child and I would not have Felicia banished for the simple reason that Elena does not like her.”
“Si, señor,” grinned Teresa, pleased. “I will send word that Felicia may return. She will be grateful to you, for this is the only home she has known since Padre Juan put her in my arms nine years ago.”
Shortly after that conversation Rod began seeing Felicia about the rancho, usually perched on her favorite spot upon the fence surrounding the corral where the horses were trained. Usually Rod merely smiled and nodded whenever he saw her, but one day her sad doe eyes drew him to her like a magnet.
