Hannah Howell (31 page)

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Fell asleep."

Smoothing his hand over her thick hair, he said, “It's all right. Go back to sleep, Antonie."

“It's late."

“Almost dawn."

“Tom find out anything?"

“Nope.” He laughed softly when she yawned widely. “Don't fight it, Antonie. I probably should've gone to my own bed."

She moved closer. “No. Like you here."

“And I like being here. Hell, I need to be here. I certainly did tonight."

Inwardly, Antonie cursed her inability to fully clear her head. She sensed that he was in a mood to be very open with his thoughts and feelings. Here was her chance to get answers to some of the questions that plagued her, the answers that could well decide her future, yet she was no better than half-witted with exhaustion. Well, at least she could listen, she thought crossly, and hope that he continued to ramble on.

Feeling her stir in his arms, he kissed the top of her head. “No. Don't try to wake up. Funny, I'm too tired to make love, but I had to hold you. I've gotten too used to you in my bed, I reckon."

“That's bad?"

“No, not bad. I realized it when we were apart. I hated sleeping alone."

“Me too."

“Good,” he said, laughter tinting his voice, and he kissed the small fist she sleepily swung at him. “I hate to suffer alone. Did you reach for me, Antonie, reach for me in the night?” he asked gently.

"Sí.
I reached for you.” She felt his chest move with a sigh.

“I told myself I was crazy when I did it."

“So did I."

“Funny how you can get used to something like that so quickly. I've slept alone all my life but, after a few weeks with you in my bed, I found that I hated it."

Sensing that he was talking mostly to himself, Antonie said nothing.

“I've never slept with any of the women I've known. Didn't want to. I got what I wanted and left, even if it was in the middle of the damn night. Here I only have to go one door away and I don't even think of doing it."

For a while he silently wondered about that. He had recognized that sudden change in his habits before, but only briefly. It had been made very clear to him when they had been apart and especially tonight, when he did not even want to make love to her, yet sought her bed.

He needed her, and for far more than to cool the fever she could stir in him. Royal had sensed it growing, had not really fought it but, suddenly, he could see it more clearly than he had before. He was troubled and he felt betrayed, so he turned to Antonie, needed to hold her to soothe the sting of betrayal by others he had thought his closest friends. Only a fool would fail to recognize that it was far more than lust behind such a need, especially when lust wasn't even there.

Uncertainties nibbled at him and he hated it. Antonie never spoke of more than the fever they shared. She never hinted that she would stay after his troubles were solved. He sensed that there was more than passion behind her feelings for him but, after being fooled so completely by Marilyn, he no longer completely trusted his instincts. Suddenly, he needed words, not necessarily words of love, but some sort of verbal declaration that it was not only passion and a promise to Juan that kept Antonie by his side.

“Antonie?"

“Mmmm?"

“Is it really your promise to Juan that holds you here? I mean, I know that's why you came here and that you will see all this through to its end, but is it only the promise that keeps you helping me?"

She hesitated a moment before replying. Her answer could tell him more than she really wanted him to know. However, she could hear an urgency, a need to know, in his voice, and feel the tension in his body. If her answer could ease that, she was willing to risk a little exposure. The very fact that he had asked and wanted an answer gave her a hint that his feelings for her could well run deeper than she had thought.

“No. I fight for you,
querido.
Perhaps my promise to Juan would keep me here if you tried to stop me from helping you, but it is you I fight for. It is just convenient that my promise is fulfilled at the same time.” She felt his hold on her tighten as she spoke.

“Thank you for that. I really need you to be on my side. I don't like you taking risks, but I want you fighting for me. Contrary bastard, aren't I."

"Sí.
Very contrary.” She kissed his chest and sleepily rubbed her cheek against his skin.

“And when the fight is over?"

“When we win?"

“Yes, when we win. Will you return to Mexico?” he asked hesitantly.

“If that is what you want,” she said cautiously.

“And if it isn't? If I ask you to stay?"

“I will stay.” Something in his voice penetrated her sleep-fogged mind, and she asked, “The fight will end soon? You have found out something?"

“I have found out nothing, but I have some clear suspicions now. Some damn strong ones."

“What are they?” she asked even as she yawned, losing the fight against the sleep that sought to reclaim her.

“No, I won't tell you now. I want to think about it some more."

“Okay."

“Sleep, Antonie."

"Sí,
I think I must."

He stared down at the woman in his arms even as sleep started to close his eyes, too. Every moment that the battle continued, she was at risk. That thought gave him all the incentive he needed to work on a plan that would irrevocably prove his suspicions right or wrong.

“If you keep swearing so, Oro, I think God might slap you down,” Antonie said teasingly as she helped him walk around his room.

She bit back a laugh which only made him curse more. He did not really need any help in walking now, even though his leg was still stiff and pained him. She was there to see that he did not try to do too much too quickly, to remind him that the doctor had ordered him to go carefully in order to lessen the chance of a permanent limp.

“Sit down,
amigo,
and have a drink,” she ordered.

Easing himself into a chair, Oro sighed. “Now Patricia is not only laden with a poor half-breed but a cripple."

“Idiot."

Antonie handed him a glass of brandy, then sat down on the bed facing him. He looked tired, and she knew that the lingering pain in his leg disturbed his sleep but he refused the potions which could ease it. She also knew that he was pushing himself. It had been barely two weeks since he had been shot, only a day since the stitches had been removed.

“The doctor said I will have a limp,” Oro complained.

“He said you
might
have a limp. You might not if you stop pushing so hard,” Antonie admonished him.

“I am sick of this room. I am sick of being useless."

“I think you are sick from not making love to your wife."

“Do you peep in our keyhole that you can know this?"

“So grouchy you are."

“She complained to you that I am not man enough,” Oro demanded.

“And so stupid. No, she did not complain to me. I just guessed."

“One time. One time I have with my bride, and now I cannot love her."

“Why not?"

"Chica,
you are innocent no longer. How can I mount my woman with this leg so bad, eh?"

“So let her mount you,” Antonie said quietly, and ignored the blush that heated her cheeks.

Oro's eyes widened.
"Por Dios.
Certainly an innocent no longer. Ah, but Patricia is innocent."

“Thought you said you had her once."

“Once. Such things as you speak of must be gently introduced."

“Bah. That is maybe true if all was normal, but it is not. I think you baby her, but she is your wife,” Antonie said.

"Sí,
my wife."

“Did I hear my name called?” Patricia said cheerfully as she stepped into the room.

“This growling bear wonders if you mean to stay up all night,” Antonie answered as she stood up.

“Ah. Well, here I am now. You'd best go to your growling bear, Antonie."

“Growling, is he?” Antonie asked laughingly as she started out the door.

“Like a bear with a sore paw."

Laughing, Antonie shut the door and started toward her room. She found it easy to be happy. Since the night of the attack on Oro and Patricia, she had felt sure that Royal was growing fond of her. With each passing day, she saw more and more behind his actions and his words than passion. The only shadow on her happiness was Marilyn.

Frowning slightly, Antonie could not stop herself from wondering why Royal allowed that relationship to continue as it had. She knew that the Collinses had long been close friends of the Bancrofts. Marilyn was after far more than friendship however, and acted as if the expected union between the two families was still a strong possibility. What bothered Antonie, what kept her from feeling really confident about her place in Royal's life, was that he did not seem to be doing anything to disabuse Marilyn of that notion. He pulled Marilyn no closer, but neither did he push her away.

“What's that dark frown for?” Royal asked as Antonie entered the room.

Her eyes widened when she saw him and she quickly shut the door. He was lying on top of her bed, his arms crossed beneath his head and his feet crossed. One foot idly moved to some inner beat. She decided to ignore the fact that he was stark naked. It was a little hard to ignore the fact that he was also aroused. Struggling to maintain a casual demeanor, she moved to the mirror and began to unbind her hair.

“How's Oro doing?"

“Fine, but he does not think so. It troubles him that he might limp, but he pushes himself so hard that he could end up with just what he fears. Do you know what he said?"

“Nope. I wasn't there."

She ignored that. “He said that now Patricia was not only laden with a poor half-breed, but now a crippled one."

“And what did you say?"

“I called him an idiot."

“Very sympathetic. This isn't working out like I'd planned."

Smiling softly to herself, she began to undress very slowly. “What isn't,
querido?"

“You were supposed to see me in all my glory and leap upon me in a fit of unbridled lust."

“Ah, unbridled lust, hmm? Exactly what is this unbridled lust?” She let her skirt slide gradually over her hips and then draped it over a chair.

“That's when you hurl yourself into my arms and ravish me."

Removing her petticoats with the same seductive leisure she had her skirt, she asked, “You are all recovered from the last time I ravished you, eh?"

“Completely."

Keeping her back to him, she eased off her pantaloons. Dressed only in her blouse, which just skimmed the top of her thighs, she put out the lights until only the lamp beside the bed still burned. Standing by the bed, she smiled at Royal, who was no longer sprawled so casually on her bed. He lay on his side, propped up on one elbow and staring at her, his eyes dark with desire. Very slowly, she began to untie the drawstring at the neck of her blouse.

“Are you certain of that,
mi vida?"

“Why don't you try me and see,” he challenged her.

“What a good idea,” she purred and, with a subtle wiggle, sent her blouse sliding down her body to the floor.

With a moan, Royal yanked her onto the bed. Her soft husky laugh played over his skin like a caress. His little game had become hers, but he did not mind at all.

Antonie took him at his word and proceeded to do her best to ravish him. She moved her hands over his body in a tactile expression of appreciation. As she trailed her fingers over his chest, teasing his nipples into hard points, she covered his mouth with hers. She kissed him in every way he had taught her and improvised a few new tricks of her own. His chest was already rising and falling rapidly by the time she eased her lips and tongue down to suckle those taut nubs.

Royal fought to maintain some control over his soaring passion as she moved her seductive attentions even further down his body. He wanted to enjoy her soft kisses and stroking tongue for as long as he could. When she responded to the subtle lifting of his hips and engulfed him slowly with the warm moistness of her mouth, he knew he would not be able to hold on for much longer.

Her own passions racing through her, Antonie was only vaguely aware of his hoarse words, but she knew he neared his crest. She straddled him and, as she touched her mouth to his, she slowly joined their bodies. For a little while she kept the pace slow, but when he tightened his grip on her hips and urged her to a fiercer rhythm, she was more than ready to comply. Even as she cried out from the strength of her release, her hips pressing down in reaction to her body's greed for him, she heard him cry out, lifting his hips from the bed as he fought to bury himself within her as deeply as possible.

“Next time I get to ravish you,” Royal said, his voice still husky as he reached out to turn off the light.

Snuggling up against his side, she murmured, “Ah, I am not sure,
mi vida.
Ladies are not supposed to like to be ravished."

Wrapping his arms about her, he drawled, “Turn about is fair play, love."

Her heart skipped a beat at the endearment. Reaching almost desperately for some common sense, she told her heart to behave itself. She would not let herself make judgments based upon endearments whispered by a man sated with passion. After all, she thought wryly, it did not seem right for him to call her Toni at such a time, but he had to call her something.

“Well, you'd best let me recover from ravishing you first."

“Mmmmm, I think I could do with some recovering myself."

She felt the baby move with a strength that somewhat startled her. Since her stomach was pressed against Royal, she was terrified that he had felt it, too. Although she was far closer to a decision than she had been when she had discovered she carried his child, she was not quite ready to tell him. Suddenly, she wanted just a few more hours before that decision was final. She did not want it forced upon her now when she was not really prepared.

“Antonie?"

“What?” she whispered.

“Don't take this wrong, but I think you're putting on some weight."