Destiny's Captive (14 page)

Her dress was unbuttoned to her waist, her shift unbuttoned as well, and his lips on her breasts seared her flesh like sensual lightning. When he bit her gently, she sucked in a breath. A yearning took hold between her thighs and her hips moved unconsciously to an ancient rhythmic drumbeat.

“Let's get you out of this dress.”

Through the haze shimmering around her, she mindlessly stepped out of it, and stood pulsing in the fading light wearing her drawers, stockings, and opened shift while he placed it neatly over a chair. His return brought more kisses and slow tours of his hands until she thought she might melt from the heat. His touch inside her drawers made her startle and then croon as his expert fingers played in the damp darkness hidden there. The sensations sent her spiraling so high, her hand went to her mouth to keep her cry of delight contained. She was certain she was destined for hell for indulging in such decadent pleasure but she greedily wanted more and shamelessly widened her stance.

Watching her body rise to his play as she flowed over his fingers almost made Noah come then and there. Damn, he was hard and he wished she weren't an innocent so he could love her as fiercely as he craved. The tension had him strung tight as a bow but he held on. He could tell by the increased cadence of her breathing and the sultry movements of her hips that she was almost ready to peak and the male in him wanted to watch her explode from his pleasuring. Seconds later the orgasm shattered her, making her shudder and cry out hoarsely while he feasted with glowing eyes and kept up his play. She was slick and wet; her body bowed and he leaned down and licked a pebble-hard nipple before closing his mouth around it and tugging at it with lust gentled teeth.

“Oh, stop!” she begged and quickly backed away.

The tiger enjoyed his mate's beautiful distress but he was so engorged he found it difficult to breathe. If she couldn't handle more he'd abide by her decision but he prayed she'd agree to see the act through because he hadn't gotten nearly enough of her lushness, and truly needed the sweet relief only she could provide. “You wanted the wedding night,
querida.
Shall we continue?”

He sensed she was having second thoughts but knew the desire flaring inside was making it difficult for her usually sharp mind to hold sway. Much to his delight, she finally whispered, “Yes.” He held out a hand and led her to the bed.

Once there he prepared with all the care necessary for such a precious moment, taking time to bring her to the heights again, savoring her gasps of passion and the moans of delight that slipped from her parted lips. She was twisting and wet and open when the time came to join their bodies, so he pushed in gently. “The first time may be painful,
querida
, forgive me.”

She was so tight and warm, he wanted to storm his way through.

“Oh, wait, please Noah.”

He forced himself to comply. Holding himself above her he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath while he throbbed within her sheath.

He could feel how tense she'd become. Desire had been replaced by apprehension and undoubtedly a measure of fear. He kissed her reassuringly. The last thing he wanted was for her to rue this night and be put off lovemaking for the rest of their married life. “I'll go slow. I promise.” He sensed her nod, and so fitting actions to words, advanced as gently as he could, then pulled out and slowly repeated the move again and again until she began to return the rhythm. A few moments later, they were moving as one. His tight hold on his discipline broke and he increased the pace, hoping he wasn't being too rough, but unable to stop if a gun was put to his head. She cried out as the orgasm grabbed her, and he roared as his own tore him apart and flung him up to the stars.

Later, he came back to life holding her in his arms. He could almost see her face in the darkness. “Did I hurt you?”

“At first, but then, I enjoyed it.”

He chuckled softly. “That's good to know. I enjoyed it as well, so much so that were you more seasoned, I'd start again.”

“Again?”

“Until sunrise.”

He sensed her shock and traced a finger over her parted lips. “You're a very passionate woman,
querida.
I'm looking forward to many more nights like this, but in the morning you'll probably be sore, so let's get some sleep. We've a ferry to the mainland to catch at dawn.”

“I suppose we won't be able to do this amongst the pigs and chickens.”

“No, we won't.”

“A pity.”

He laughed and eased her closer.

Later, as they slept, his nightmare returned. In the dream it was once again his first night on the island and the Englishman Barton Felix and his henchmen had come for him. Upon realizing what Felix was after, Noah and Kingston fought like demons, but were outnumbered and easily overpowered. A crowd gathered and cheered as both men were forced onto their stomachs, held down, and their trousers stripped away. As always, his own screams tore him from the dream and he was thrust back into the present, covered with fear-fed sweat and trembling. Only this time, Pilar was beside him.

“Noah, you're shaking. Were you having a bad—”

He thrust her hand away and left the bed. “Go back to sleep.”

Her stunned silence was like a cut through his heart, but he walked out onto the verandah and drank in the night air until he regained a measure of calm.
Dios
, he hated the memories. Since that horrid night they'd plagued every step of his life and seemed intent upon accompanying him to his grave. How naïve he'd been to think a mere slip of woman could rid him of the degradation and yes, the shame. While with her, he'd somehow been able to keep his demons at bay, only to have them return as they always did when he was most vulnerable. By not offering Pilar an explanation for his rude behavior, he could only imagine what might be going through her mind. They'd had a perfect time together, made love, and now? How did one explain such a vile experience, especially to one's innocent wife? He closed his eyes to rid himself of the lingering visions in his head.

“Noah?”

He didn't move. “My apologies for being so callous, but please go back to bed. I'll see you in the morning.”

For a moment there was silence before she quietly responded, “As you wish.”

He heard the sounds of her whispered retreat and slammed his fist on the iron railing. He would've howled like a beast had he thought it would help. Instead, he looked out into the night and waited for the sunrise.

T
he next morning, Pilar awakened to thunder, rain, and the wind screaming like something alive. Late August often brought hurricanes, so she hoped there wasn't one bearing down on them. Sitting up, she looked around the room and found herself alone. She wondered where Noah might be. His behavior last night still stung. They'd gone from making love to him suddenly kicking her away as if she were a cur on the street. It hurt. What hurt more was his lack of explanation. A part of her hoped he'd headed off to California alone, thus affording her the opportunity to resume her own life, but at that moment, he entered the room carrying a tray supporting covered dishes. He hesitated for a moment at the sight of her. She ignored him. Leaving the bed she saw the small show of blood on the mussed sheets. Ignoring that as well, she walked behind the screen to handle her morning needs.

When she came out, she dug through her bag for a skirt and blouse, and not caring if he watched, got dressed.

“I brought you breakfast.”

“Thank you.” She pushed her feet into her worn slippers. She was grateful for the meal but had nothing more to say.

They ate in silence. A mask over his features hid the man whose company she'd begun to enjoy. Gone was the teasing, the fun, and the passion. That hurt as well. Deciding she'd not wallow or speculate any longer about the reasons for his abrupt change in manner, she finished her meal and waited for him to relay what they were doing next.

“I'll take the tray back down to Mrs. Fitzhugh and we can depart when I return.”

She nodded.

Noah knew he'd hurt her, but no amount of apologizing would soften the flinty frostiness in her eyes, at least not one that wasn't tied to an explanation. Since he had none to offer, he picked up the tray and made his exit.

It was pouring rain outside. By the time they ran from the doorway to the waiting hack they were both drenched. He at least had a coat; she had a thin shawl. He took his coat off and handed it to her. “Here, put this around you before you catch a chill.”

“I'm fine. I've been wet before.”

“Pilar—”

Tight-lipped, she took the coat from his hand and draped it over her shoulders. Had she her rapier they'd probably be circling each other in the dance of
Destreza.
He almost wished they were; she'd at least have to look at him. His eyes lingered over her averted profile. What a beauty she was. From her unconventional close-cropped hair and gamine face to her proud chin, any man would be honored to have her in his life, but he was afraid of how she'd perceive him should he tell her the truth, and therein lay the rub. It was a dilemma he had no idea how to broach and although it potentially doomed them to spend their lives going through the motions like strangers staring at each other over the divide, she was in his blood and he refused to give her up.

After a rocky ride on the ferry, the train was there and waiting when they reached the depot. Noah paid the hack and he and Pilar hurried to the covered platform to escape the deluge. There was a small crowd of people of varying races in line. The agent they'd spoken with yesterday raised his voice. “All coloreds to the smoking car.”

Noah saw his own frustration mirrored in the faces of those the announcement applied to. He told himself at least they weren't being relegated to the cattle car, but it was a small consolation considering everyone was paying the same fare.

Inside the smoking car, men grabbed chairs to sit in on the start of various card games, while others sidled up to the bar to buy spirits. A man at the piano began a lively tune and two fiddlers jumped in, sawing away. Outside the rain pelted the windows in sheets and the wind howled shrilly. He hoped they wouldn't be delayed by the weather. Train tracks were notorious for being washed out by downpours like the one they were experiencing. All he wanted was to get home.

Pilar wished to go home as well, but not to California. The pangs in her heart from missing Cuba, her mother, and her sister rose with each passing moment. She'd never begged for anything in her life, yet she dearly wished to be elsewhere, but knew the wish would not be granted.

Many of the segregated travelers were families with small children and they took up positions on the floor against the far wall.

“Would you like a seat at one of the tables?” he asked.

Not wanting to be around the cigar-smoking gamblers or the heavily made-up ladies of the night offering false smiles, she said. “No. I'll sit with the families.” And she walked off and found a space on the floor a bit away from the fray. To her surprise he dragged a couple of chairs over to where she was seated. “You might prefer this to the floor.”

She saw some of the women eyeing their exchange, so rather than draw more attention she sat in one and he took the other. “You can go join the tables if you like, I'll be fine,” she told him.

“Thank you, but I don't want any of the men to get the mistaken impression that you're traveling alone.”

It hadn't occurred to her that she could be in danger but in reality knew he was correct. She assumed she wouldn't be accosted by the men seated with their families, but the fancy types with their flashy suits and pomaded hair were another story. “Then I thank you for the company.”

“You're welcome.”

Silence rose between them in spite of the music and noise that filled the air.

“Pilar?”

Cool eyed, she faced him.

“About last night. I was rude and boorish. I'm sorry.”

To mask her hurt she kept her features unreadable.

“I have nightmares sometimes and . . .” His voice trailed off. He began again. “They don't come often but this one caught me unawares. I treated you badly.”

She searched his scarred face and wanted to ask about the nature of the dreams, but held off. His discomfort with the explanation was plain. Maybe in time, he'd offer more.

“Should it occur again, I'll do my best to react differently.”

“Thank you. If I can help—”

He shook his head. “I'll be fine. I just wanted to assure you that it wasn't anything you did or said.”

That he was in pain was also apparent. Wanting to assuage it somehow welled up inside of her with such force she was taken aback by the strength. She was coming to care for him far more than she realized and wondered if doing so was wise.

“I did enjoy yesterday,” he said, interrupting her musings.

She thought back on their time together by the water and their lovemaking and admitted truthfully, “I did as well.”

“Can we start again? That I need more fun in my life is readily apparent.”

She hesitated. Once burned, twice shy. Could she trust him? She didn't know but a part of her wanted to, so she nodded. “I'd like that.”

He took her hands gently in his and gave the fingertips a fleeting kiss. “Thank you for your graciousness.”

“Thank you for the apology.” He'd seemed so sincere and repentant, it would be incredibly mean-spirited of her to deny his request for a truce but she planned to be less open in the future and remain on guard.

“Would you like a cup of tea or something to warm up so you don't catch a chill from the rain?”

“That would be nice.”

“I'll be right back.”

Still wrestling with her uncertainty, Pilar watched him go.

Noah crossed the crowded room and savored her grace. Her wariness had been plain and, frankly, expected. He'd ambushed her, taken the good will she'd tried to bring to their unconventional marriage and run a sword through it, thus his attempt to explain. No, he hadn't told her the full extent of the demons riding him, mostly because he had no desire to plunge her into hell with him, but in truth she was already. Going forward he had no idea what to do except take each day and moment as it came and hope the future offered a solution that would free them both.

As night fell, mothers gathered their children and the families unrolled thin pallets from their packs and bedded down. Lamps were lit for those still at the gaming tables and the drinks and music continued to flow.

Pilar and Noah left their chairs and sat side by side on the floor. He eased an arm around her waist and held her close. Since neither had enjoyed a full night's sleep last night they were both sleepy. She placed her head on his chest. He kissed her brow. “Try and get some sleep.”

Nodding, she closed her eyes.

Noah was still awake at sunrise.

Due to the inclement weather, the journey to Birmingham, Alabama, took longer than expected. At one point the conductor entered the car to inform everyone that they were indeed feeling the effects of a hurricane making its way into the Gulf and apologized for the slow going. Pilar prayed that the people she knew at home were safe, and once again her mind turned to her friend Tomas and his untimely death.

B
ack in Cuba Pilar had ridden in wagons carrying livestock to the market, but never in her life had she had to sleep with them or spend each waking moment gagging on the stench of their bodies and dung. Thus was the journey from Birmingham to St. Louis, where every person of color was forced to endure the horrid conditions of the stock car. Were she being petty she would've laid the appalling set of circumstances at the feet of her husband, but it wasn't his fault. He was equally furious, and they passed the two-day journey in companionable anger.

When they got off the train, the first thing she wanted was a bath. “Is there someplace I can wash?”

“Yes. There are bathhouses not too far away.”

“Are they segregated, too?” she asked as they left the station.

“Yes, but there are a number to choose from. Afterwards, new shoes and a few new changes of clothing are in order. We both reek.”

She sadly agreed. Her slippers were crusted and stained with the leavings of the animals and her skirt was smelly and stained. She wanted to take everything off and dump both shoes and garments into the nearest waste receptacle, but walking naked through the streets would probably shock the citizenry.

“Hopefully, we'll be treated equally on the ride to Denver.”

She hoped so as well.

After the bathhouse and a change into clothing from their valises they made their way to shops recommended by the owner of the bathhouse.

As they walked, Pilar asked, “How far are we from Florida?”

“Over a thousand miles, I'm guessing.”

“I had no idea America was so large.”

“We've many more thousands to go before we reach San Francisco.”

For a woman raised in the countryside, the idea that she'd eventually be thousands of miles from home was very daunting. The streets were congested with carriages and coaches. There were crowds of people on the walks and she found it hard not to stare around in wonder at the young boys hawking newspapers, the men in hats and spiffy suits accompanied by women in costly costumes and carrying small parasols.

“Not what you're accustomed to?” he asked.

“No. I've never seen so many buildings.” They were made of bricks and wood. Many looked to have been thrown up on the spot, unlike Cuba's old Spanish architecture. Feeling homesickness beginning to settle in, she turned her mind away from it and kept pace at his side.

When they entered the clothier's, a short dark-skinned man greeted them and introduced himself as the proprietor, Claude Dell.

“Welcome. Never seen you folks before.”

“We're on our way to Denver. I was told you offer an assortment of readymade goods.”

“That I do. Take a look around and when you're ready to pay just come on back.”

The place wasn't very large or busy, but it was clean and the items for sale were neatly stacked on tables and displayed on dress forms. While Pilar wandered over to the women's area, Noah picked out a suit, a couple of shirts, socks, and a few other items. Pleased with his selections, he walked to the counter. A few moments later, Pilar joined him with her choices: an ugly, shapeless brown gingham decorated with bows and ruffles, a shirtwaist, two skirts and a pair of men's boots. In reply to the confusion that must've shown on his face, she explained, “These boots will do me just fine and keep my feet dry.”

“But don't you want something a bit more . . . ladylike?”

“I'll not subject any more ladylike shoes to animal dung.”

He supposed that made sense, but . . . he decided not to argue, but the dress warranted discussion. “Are you sure about this dress?”

Mr. Dell broke in apologetically. “Sorry we don't have anything more fashionable for the little lady.”

“That's quite all right,” she said to him. “Being fashionable is not a concern.”

Eyeing the god-awful dress, Noah readily agreed, but kept that to himself. He had two very fashion-minded sisters-in-law. It was his hope that once they reached the ranch, Mariah and Billie would take Pilar under their wings. She was far too beautiful to be walking around in something so ghastly.