Authors: Connie Mason
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.
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.
But then he had remembered that he had married Julie under a misconception. That she hadn’t been raped by Kelly as he first believed. In assuming a responsibility toward Julie he was knowingly disregarding a far greater obligation; one of long standing. His father would never forgive him for bringing home an Anglo bride and he certainly had earned Elena’s contempt for breaking his marriage contract.
Why? he asked himself bitterly. Rod knew the answer to that question immediately. He had lusted after a honey-haired witch, married her before he had gained his good senses, then foolishly left her at the mercy of men like Brute Kelly. Even if he hadn’t been the one to
deflower her, responsibility for her welfare still would weigh heavily upon him.
Caramba!
he cursed beneath his breath. If Julie would have returned east none of this would have happened. As it turned out he was saddled with a wife he didn’t want, an irate father and a fiancée—or ex-fiancée—who was likely to slit his throat.
As soon as Julie dressed and they wolfed down their meager breakfast, they continued their journey south. The weather was milder than in San Francisco and Julie enjoyed the gentle sunshine warming her back and shoulders. In New York it would be snowing, she thought idly.
Rod had hardly spoken to her all morning. Whenever she ventured a tentative smile in his direction she was met by cold indifference. Even her attempts at conversation fell upon deaf ears. Finally, she gave up, deciding she could be just as taciturn and unpleasant as Rod. How could he expect their marriage to work if he continued to blame her for something that was none of her doing, she sniffed angrily.
After Rod had made love to her and she learned she could become pregnant from their encounter, Julie decided she would do her best to make their marriage successful. She probably could have done a lot worse than marry a man like Rod Delgado. It could well have been someone like Brute Kelly. After all, she took her chances when she joined Polly in this madcap venture. If only Rod’s father wasn’t so dead set against an American daughter-in-law perhaps she and Rod might have a chance. And then she remembered Elena, the woman Rod was to marry.
“We’re nearly there,” Rod announced sullenly, breaking into her reverie.
“At your
rancho
?”
“No. At the mission of San Luis Obispo. We’ll be stopping there first.”
“Why? Shouldn’t we go on if you intend to reach your
hacienda
by dark?”
Just then Julie caught sight of the mission rising in the distance. The crude adobe and brick building with red tile roof was founded in 1772 by Father Serra and surrounded by a small town of sorts. The town consisted of one or two
cantinas,
a few shops, and several adobe houses sporting ominous iron shutters at the windows and doors. When Julie questioned Rod he told her that outlaws and bandits frequently raided the area and residents resorted to the ironwork for protection.
As they approached the mission Julie could see that it was in need of repairs and obviously poor. Several Indian children played in the yard while their parents worked the fields nearby or cared for the animals.
The mission had solid, massive, stucco-covered adobe walls with broad undecorated wall faces built around a patio with a garden. Arcaded corridors and low-pitched red tile roofs with wide projecting eaves protected the inhabitants from rain and wind. Several smiling children ran up to Julie and Rod as they descended from their wagon, chattering in Spanish. Rod smiled, judiciously handing out coins and patting dark, shining heads.
“You spoil them, Don Rodrigo.”
Julie looked up to see a small, dark man approaching through one of the arcaded corridors. His brown, cowled robe proclaimed him to be one of the Franciscans. From a rope belt around his waist hung a set of prayer beads and his sandaled feet slapped noisily against the hard-packed sand. A fringe of hair surrounded a nearly bald head but the
padre’s
gentle expression gave the impression of suffering and deprival.
“
Buenas dias, Padre,
it’s good to see you again,”
greeted Rod affably. “Have you been saving many souls in my absence?”
“As many as God allows,” smiled the
padre
. “But you know my duties are more than just priest. To my people I am farmer, businessman, trader, doctor, teacher, builder, whatever is necessary. My children look to me for all manner of guidance.”
“Ah,
Padre,
” mocked Rod, laughing, “you are indeed a wonder.”
“You jest, of course, Don Rodrigo, but who else is there to teach our less fortunate brothers to make blankets, tan hides, manufacture shoes, make soap and pottery, mill flour, and care for themselves, if not for the Franciscan fathers?”
“I’m sure your efforts will be rewarded by God,” replied Rod seriously.
All the time Rod and the priest talked, Julie stood silently by. Their entire conversation was conducted in Spanish, of which she understood little. She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot while they continued speaking, ignoring her completely.
If Julie thought the two men had deliberately ignored her she would have been shocked to learn they were now discussing her. “I would have a favor of you,
Padre
,” Rod said, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
“Does it concern the woman with you, my son?” asked the
padre,
sparing a glance in Julie’s direction.
“
Si, Padre,
” admitted Rod. “I wish you to marry us.”
“No! Impossible! Have you forgotten? You are already betrothed to Dona Elena.”
Rod flushed guiltily at the
padre’s
shocked expression. He realized that the priest could not be half as surprised as his own father when he learned what Rod had done. “Would you have my child born a bastard?” he asked quietly.
“But she is an Anglo,” sputtered the good
padre
. “I have known you all your life, Don Rodrigo. Whatever
possessed you to take such a woman? Grant you she is lovely, but the kind of woman who comes to California can be nothing more than a
puta
… a prostitute.”
“You are wrong,
Padre,
” Rod countered firmly. “Julie is a young, innocent girl. I took her virginity and am bound by honor to marry her.”
“But, Rodrigo, an Anglo?” the
padre
protested. “She is probably not even of our faith. Would it not better serve your honor if you found another man to wed her?”
Rod bristled indignantly. “And if there is a child of our union? Should I allow another man to claim what is mine?”
The priest shrugged helplessly. “It will anger your father greatly, not to mention Dona Elena, but I will do what I must.” Then he turned to Julie, stretched out a calloused hand and said in broken English, “Welcome to the mission of San Luis Obispo, child. I am called
Padre
Juan.”
Julie smiled shyly, accepting the proffered hand warmly. “Thank you,
Padre
Juan. Your mission is very impressive.”
Rod relaxed visibly, sensing that his first obstacle had been met and surmounted with
Padre
Juan’s acceptance of Julie. My … wife’s name is Juliet,
Padre,
” Rod said, stumbling slightly over his words.
“Appropriate,” mumbled
Padre
Juan, thinking of the ill-fated Romeo and Juliet. “Come inside children and rest while I prepare for the ceremony.”
Julie stopped short. “Ceremony? What ceremony?”
“I am to marry you and Don Rodrigo,” informed the priest.
“But we are already married,” protested Julie.
Padre
Juan’s dark eyes glared accusingly at Rod. “You may be wed but certainly not in the eyes of God. Don Rodrigo is well aware that his father will never accept a marriage performed by anyone but a priest
according to the rites of the Holy Church. And even then his blessing will not be easily won.”
When Julie still hesitated, Rod grasped her hand and pulled her with him into the cool building. The priest led them to a small, crudely furnished room and bade Julie enter and rest until she was summoned. When the door closed, Rod had departed with the holy man and she found herself alone.
Julie paced nervously for several minutes, barely aware of her surroundings. Why was Rod marrying her again, she wondered? If he didn’t consider himself truly wed before, why marry her now in his church? How less complicated things would be if he just returned her to San Francisco where they could live their separate lives as if they had never met. The chance that she would become pregnant from their one encounter seemed so remote as to not even exist. All he had to do was wait a month to find out if his seed took hold before he brought her before a priest. Julie knew enough about the Catholic religion to know that once they exchanged vows before a priest they would be irrevocably bound. She could not understand the code of honor that dictated their marriage just because Rod had taken her virginity, especially in the face of such irreconcilable differences. The least of which were Rod’s disapproving father and jilted bride-to-be.
A mute Indian boy brought a large pitcher of water and Julie ceased her silent ragings to enjoy the unexpected luxury of washing all over. After her bath she tested the crude but clean bed and, finding it surprisingly comfortable, fell immediately asleep. She knew nothing more until she awoke abruptly to find a plump Indian woman shaking her. It was dark outside and a single candle sputtered feebly on the nightstand.
The woman said something in Spanish and motioned toward the chair, grinning broadly. Julie looked in the direction of her gesture and was stunned to see a
beautiful white outfit carefully laid out. She arose, rubbed her eyes and carefully inspected the lovely garments made almost entirely of delicate lace. The woman, whose name Julie learned was Rosa, called the blouse a
camisa.
It had short, puffed sleeves ending at the elbow and a low neckline adorned with a wide ruffle. The skirt consisted of yards of ruffled lace ending at the ankle which Julie thought indecent. A lace mantilla to cover her hair and low heeled white slippers completed the outfit surely meant to be her wedding dress. Julie could not imagine where Rod had obtained such a lovely garment on such short notice.
After Rosa helped Julie dress and comb her long hair, she guided the bride to the chapel. Julie found the chapel lavishly appointed, even rich, considering the crude state of the rest of the mission. She could detect the sparkle of gold in the tall candlesticks, chalice, statues and huge cross that adorned the wall over the altar.
Rod stepped out of the shadows and Julie gasped at his imposing figure clad entirely in black and silver. He resembled a handsome pirate in his tight black trousers, short black jacket lavishly trimmed in silver and tall shiny boots made of expensive leather. Though she could not read the expression on his face, Julie thought she detected a glimmer of approval in his dark eyes as she approached the altar where
Padre
Juan stood waiting to begin the ceremony.
When Julie reached Rod’s side the tension between them almost crackled. Whatever they felt for one another certainly was not apathy. By the time
Padre
Juan began the ceremony, Julie’s legs were shaking. The thought that this arrogant, intimidating man, often moody, yet capable of reducing her to the consistency of jelly, would have complete control over her life, was truly frightening.
As if sensing her thoughts, Rod squeezed her hand
and whispered softly, “Courage,
querida.
Would you have the
padre
think you are a reluctant bride?”
Julie slanted him a quelling look but nevertheless stiffened her slim shoulders as she gave the correct responses during the blessedly brief ceremony witnessed by several of
Padre
Juan’s flock. She lifted shocked eyes to Rod when he grasped her hand and slipped a heavy gold band on her finger. Suddenly it was over and Julie followed Rod from the chapel to the small dining room where
Padre
Juan joined them for a hastily prepared wedding feast.
“You look lovely,
querida,
” Rod said as he gallantly seated her.
“The dress is beautiful,” Julie acknowledged. “Where did you get it on such short notice? Surely it isn’t the dress your … Elena … was to wear.”
“Even I would not stoop to such a gesture,” Rod said, somewhat hurt by her low opinion of him. “The dress you are wearing, even my own clothing, was meant for another
caballero
and his betrothed. The clothes will be cleaned and returned in time for their wedding. I would not have my bride clothed in rags for this important occasion.”
Before she could answer, Rosa served their food on large platters and Julie devoted herself to the plain but savory fare. Besides
frijoles
(delicious beans mashed and fried in bacon drippings), there were
enchiladas, quesadillas
and
tortillas,
circles of thin flour dough rolled and filled with bits of meat, beans and cheese, some in a rich red sauce and some plain. The meal ended with a flaky custard pastry and cups of thick sweetened chocolate whipped to a froth.
Julie had barely finished her last morsel of dessert when Rod abruptly arose from the table. “
Padre
Juan has suggested we spend the night at the mission and I have accepted, Julie,” he informed her, moving to help her from her chair. “It grows late. Bid the good
padre
goodnight.” Julie felt herself grow warm beneath his hot gaze as she rose stiffly and made her exit after a hasty word to the bemused priest.
Rod was but a step behind her when she entered the small room assigned to them. Her stomach jumped convulsively when she heard the key scrape in the rusty lock. She turned to face him. His closeness had a physical impact on her and she felt herself grow giddy and weightless. Strange, exotic fantasies began to bite into her thoughts as his dark eyes visibly undressed her.
Rod made no effort to conceal his appraisal as his hot gaze traveled boldly from her face to her soft, rapidly rising and falling breasts, to the gentle swell of hips beneath the thin lace gown. “You’re beautiful,
mi alma,
” he breathed, his words uneven and heavy with passion. “Your enticing body is one of the benefits of this contrived marriage that I intend to enjoy fully.”
Julie bristled, her eyes shooting blue flames. “And if I refuse you?” she shot back caustically. “What then?”
“You have no choice,
querida,
” Rod grinned, amusement curving his sensual lips. “I told you before I won’t live as a eunuch. I expect children of this union. The sooner the better.” By now he was standing before her, close enough to feel her soft breath against his cheek.
“You arrogant ba—” The sentence died in her throat as Rod curled one arm about her tiny waist and pulled her roughly against his tough, sinuous body. His other hand moved to the center of her back, forcing her straining breasts against his chest while he smothered her lips with demanding mastery.
A lightning bolt seared her mouth and burned far down into her body. Strangely soft, yet violently demanding, an odd blending of fierceness and tenderness, his lips covered hers and she shuddered, silently cursing herself for succumbing to the forceful domination of his mouth. Her senses reeled as if short
circuited when he parted her lips with his tongue to ravish the honey-sweet recesses within.