Hannah Howell (28 page)

At first Antonie played the game warily, shy and unsure about her ability to be the one in full control of their lovemaking. The other times she had been aggressive were when their emotions had run high. His approval and evident delight erased that uncertainty. She grew daring, trying things she had imagined in the midst of her erotic daydreams. When he tried to equalize their positions, she deterred him. She found her passion stirred more than sufficiently by making love to him. For as long as she could, she held them both at the razor's edge of completion. As she collapsed in his arms, she wondered if he could possibly feel more sated and wrung out than she did.

It was a long time before Royal regained his power of speech. He had never known a passion like what he had found with her. Even his toes tingled, he thought, a slow grin forming on his lips. She was the best he had ever known and he became surer each time he held her that he would be the greatest of fools if he let her go.

“Not bad,” he said, drawing out each word.

Antonie lifted her head from its comfortable resting place on his chest to frown at him. “Only not bad?"

“Well, let's put it this way, in a couple of weeks you can try again."

“A couple of weeks?"

“Yes, I oughta be recovered enough to live through it by then."

Laughing gently, she curled up in his arms, getting comfortable, ready to fall asleep. “You should be more careful about making such challenges,
mi vida."

“Ah, I see. Well, it was a hard ride here and the next few days will be busy, eh?"

“Very busy. A wedding takes a lot of planning."

When a few minutes had passed and he said nothing else, Antonie lifted her head to look at him. She smiled softly when she saw that he had fallen asleep. Sympathy filled her as she saw how the worry lines did not fully leave his face even when it was relaxed in sleep. Instead of coming home from the hell of the war to find peace, he had come home to another fight. She knew it was no longer her promise to Juan that drove her to help Royal see an end to the troubles that plagued him.

That end would have to come soon, she thought wryly, as the baby in her womb moved. Soon the child would force her to step back from the battle, could even force her to leave. She was rather surprised that Royal had not suspected her condition, but he could well be as ignorant as she had been. He was also weighed down with so many troubles that he had no time to notice that anything lurked on the horizon. He had been unaware of the truth about Patricia and Oro, and he could easily be blinded to the signs that indicated he would soon be a father.

She sighed and settled herself comfortably again, closing her eyes. A decision was going to have to be made soon. Maria had said that the child would soon round her belly and even a distracted Royal would notice that. Antonie did not want her few choices to be decided by the confrontation that would result if Royal did guess her condition.

Of course the perfect solution would be if Royal decided he wanted her for a wife before he knew she carried his child, but Antonie knew that little in life was perfect. In what little time remained, she had to get a clear idea of how Royal felt about her. If all he felt for her was a fever of the body and a sense of duty, she would return to Mexico.

Smiling at her own foolishness, Antonie wiped her tears away and handed Maria her handkerchief, for Maria had already soaked her own. Antonie suspected that her pregnancy had a little to do with her easy tears. Maria had warned her about that aspect of her condition. Nevertheless, she knew that the wedding also prompted tears. As she had watched Oro and Patricia exchange their vows, she had been deeply touched, joy for the couple bringing tears to her eyes.

There was some envy, too, she admitted reluctantly, not overly proud of her feeling. She wanted what Oro and Patricia had found, but it remained out of her reach. Though Royal's words could be sweet and inflaming, he did not speak of love or of a future for them, only of passion. Nothing he had said spoke of his love and commitment to her.

Tomás disrupted her dismal thoughts by draping himself on a tearful Maria and wailing about having lost his brother. For a moment, she and Maria listened to his nonsense, then, exchanging glances, they simultaneously cuffed him.

“Such sympathy,” he grumbled as he rubbed his abused ears but then he grinned. “Stopped your tears though, eh?"

“They are going to have such pretty babies,” Maria said with a sigh.

“Perhaps we ought to let them have their wedding night before we start counting the brood,” Tomás added, chuckling.

“You are a naughty boy,” Maria scolded, giggling when he gracefully eluded her swat at him.

“Naughty? I am goodness itself, eh? I even took Oro aside for a man-to-man talk."

“Who did you ask to be the man?” Antonie drawled.

“Toni, how you wound me,” Tomás said in an injured tone.

“Hah. I think I should worry about what ideas you gave Oro and warn Patricia."

“I but gave him the benefit of my great experience and my skill."

“He, of course, listened with rapt attention,” Antonie said with sarcasm.

“As one should when a master speaks."

“Your vanity is beyond belief."

He laughed, then rubbed his hands together in a gesture of eager anticipation. “Ah, they stop talking to the preacher. Now the drinking will begin."

“Are you planning on getting drunk again?” Antonie asked.

"Sí.
It is the custom to get drunk at a wedding,” he announced airily even as he started toward the punch bowl.

“Just remember that I will not have Oro to help me put you to bed."

“Just leave me where I fall,
chica.
I will forgive you."

“How gallant,” she muttered, then laughed along with Maria.

Antonie started toward Royal, hesitating only briefly when she saw Marilyn sidle up to him. She decided she no longer wanted to retreat every time that woman was around. All things considered, it was time to do a little fighting for Royal. If Marilyn was no longer around, Antonie knew she would find it a little easier to judge exactly where she stood with Royal.

“I think this was a mistake, Royal,” Marilyn said quietly.

“Oh? I don't think so,” he replied as he took Antonie's hand, almost smiling at the anger that glinted in her eyes at Marilyn's words.

“This marriage will be the ruin of Patricia. You must see that."

“Love cannot ruin a person,” Antonie said quietly.

“I am sure it is only an infatuation,” Marilyn replied, barely glancing at Antonie. “If you had held firm, Royal, it would have passed."

“You don't know what you're talking about, Marilyn,” Royal said coolly.

“Really? Many a woman has felt a slight fascination with a man not of her class or her blood. Patricia is simply too young, too naive, to differentiate between fascination and love. You should have given her more guidance in this."

“Marilyn, I invited you to a wedding, not to lecture me on what you feel is my failing in raising Patricia."

“I'm just saying what a lot of others are or will be. Really, Royal, he's a half-breed, and not even half-white."

“His mother was the half-breed,
Señorita
Collins,” Antonie said coldly. “Be correct in your insults."

“She's all done making insults, aren't you, Marilyn,” Royal said, a cool threat hidden in his voice, and he smiled crookedly when she strode away. “I wonder if that'll shut her up."

“Do not count on it,
amigo,"
Antonie said, taking a few deep breaths to cool the urge to go after Marilyn and soundly beat her. “She feels she is right and that you are foolishly blind."

“So do a lot of folks, but not as many as I'd feared,” he murmured as he glanced at the guests.

“Do they accept, or do they come to call you fool like Marilyn?"

“No, they've accepted the marriage. I've talked to most of them. Some are uneasy about it, but they figure we know what we're doing. He's Patricia's choice and we've clearly approved it and that's good enough for them."

“And it is not their daughter or their sister,” she murmured, smiling faintly.

Royal laughed. “I wouldn't be at all surprised if that's in their minds. They probably wish I had a sister for Tomás."

"Sí.
They keep a close eye on their
niñas.
Do not worry. Tomás promised to behave."

“Kind of him."

“It was a great sacrifice, but he was willing to make it for Oro and,” she grinned, “after I convinced him that it would be very good for his health, eh?"

“I don't think I'll ask how you did that."

“It might be best,
querido."

Antonie smiled politely when Mr. Paul Greaves approached them. He was a short rotund man with a kind nature, and his small family was much like him. She did not know him well, but instinct told her he was easy to like.

“A fine-looking couple,” Mr. Greaves said sincerely. “Pattie looks real happy. Yup, real happy indeed."

“She is, Paul. It won't be easy but,” Royal shrugged, “what is?"

“Not much, son. Are they going to live on her land? That's the section at the north end of your place, right?"

“That's right. Yes, they're going to live there. Probably be settled there by this time next year if all goes well."

“That's good. It's too empty out that way. Be sure to let me know when it's time for the building that'll be needed."

“I will. Thanks, Paul."

“No thanks needed. Now, where'd that wife of mine go?” he muttered as he wandered off.

“A nice man,” Antonie murmured.

“Yes, they don't come much nicer. He lives the Golden Rule. Want a drink?” Royal asked.

She nodded and watched him disappear into the knot of people around the punch bowl. When she saw two young girls and a young man talking and laughing with Patricia and Oro, it made her feel good. They would have friends, and that would further strengthen them against the ones who could not look past their prejudices.

As if that thought had needed physical embodiment, Marilyn approached her. When Antonie saw that Royal was nowhere near returning to her side, she realized that Marilyn intended to have a private conversation with her. Antonie braced herself for what she knew would be a trying confrontation. She was determined not to cause a scene at Oro's wedding.

“I suppose you think this will help you get your hooks into Royal.” Marilyn spoke in a soft, tight voice, nearly hissing the words.

“My hooks?” Antonie asked, feigning ignorance.

“It does you no good to play the fool,
señorita."
Marilyn sneered the word, making it an insult. “You think this marriage will get you closer to being mistress here. It won't work. If this marriage has given you an advantage, it won't last long. I doubt that fool half-breed will live out the year."

“You threaten him,
Señorita
Collins?"

“I state a fact. Oh, people might've looked the other way if it was just some girl lowering herself to marry a breed, but she's toting a large piece of good land in her dowry. People don't want his sort holding such good land and breeding a family on it. They'll soon dispossess him, shall we say."

“You'd best hope it does not happen,
señorita.
Shall we say,” Antonie sneered, “your life depends upon it."

“Mine? I told you I don't need to do a thing."

"Sí,
but I think I will forget that. I think I will only remember that you told me what would happen. Then I will think about the Bible. It says an eye for an eye, eh?"

“Something happening to Oro would give you a good excuse for getting rid of me, wouldn't it? You could say it was justice, but it would simply be getting rid of the competition."

“I hadn't noticed you giving me any."

“Well, I certainly would not lower myself to offer Royal my body as freely as you do."

“Ah,
sí,
that is probably for the best. How embarrassing for you when he turns you down."

“Would he? Maybe we should put that to the test."

“Go right ahead."

“I just might."

Antonie slowly expelled her breath when Marilyn walked away. She was confident that she had held her own during the verbal duel but it troubled her. Her dare to Marilyn had been pure bravado, perhaps even recklessness. Antonie prayed that the woman did not take her up on it. She did not want her situation with Royal resolved by his bedding Marilyn.

“What was that all about?” Royal asked as he reached Antonie and handed her a drink.

“What?"

“Marilyn was talking to you and it didn't look like friendly chitchat."

“It was about hooks and land."

Before a puzzled Royal could press for a clearer explanation, he was distracted by one of the guests. Only half-listening to the man, Royal watched Antonie start to dance with Tomás. He had the feeling that Marilyn had given Antonie a hard time and had probably been doing so for quite a while, but he doubted he would be able to get Antonie to admit it. It was the sort of thing Antonie would feel was her problem and her problem alone.

As he danced with Marilyn, Royal wondered if he should say something but decided that it was neither the time nor the place. He ruefully admitted that he dreaded a confrontation with Marilyn. When she expressed a need for some fresh air, claiming a faintness due to the heat, he reluctantly escorted her outside. He was startled into immobility when she suddenly flung herself into his arms and kissed him with none of the cool delicacy she had always maintained in the past. Finally, shaking free of his shock, he disengaged himself from her hold with more haste than tact.

“I thought you were dizzy,” he said, startled by the strong urge to flee the woman.

“Oh, Royal, how can you treat me so? Flaunting that woman in front of me,” Marilyn said tearfully as she put her arms around his waist and pressed her body against him.

Royal was nonplussed that he felt no desire for her, only a somewhat frantic need to get away. He was also a little shocked. Marilyn was moving against him with a subtle seductiveness that was totally at odds with the virginal pose she had always maintained. Suspicions began to seep through his mind as he again disentangled himself from her embrace.