Midnight Rider (26 page)

“You believe that is the reason he left?”

“Yes.…”

“It is the man's place to know these things. What could you possibly have done to displease him?”

“I don't know. I-I was wondering … how would a Spanish lady behave on her wedding night?”

The old woman smiled, making her wrinkled face look less brittle. “I can only tell you what my mother once told me, and what other women have said. I cannot speak for myself.”

“I know.” Ramon's aunt had mentioned her
novio,
a young man named Esteban. She said that he had been killed, and that she had never married. It was obvious that even after a lifetime without him, Tia Teresa still grieved. In a way, Carly envied her. How fierce their love must have been to survive after all these years.

The old woman picked up her embroidery, her bony fingers moving in rhythm, the needle skimming through the fabric without conscious thought. “When a Spanish man and woman marry, there is always a grand fiesta. The music and dancing begin right after the wedding, and the feasting goes on all night, sometimes as long as a week. Often the bride and groom do not consummate the marriage for several days.”

Carly hated to ask such an intimate question, but there was no one else who could help her. “And when that time finally comes?”

Tia glanced up from her work. “The bride is very nervous, and of course very shy. She awaits her husband in their bed and when he finally joins her, she allows him the husbandly rights she has agreed to by the marriage contract.”

“How … how does that happen?”

The old woman rolled her eyes as if she wondered at the endless naiveté of the young, then she smiled. “She will snuff out the candle beside the bed, lift her nightgown, and allow her husband's body to come inside her.”

“H-her nightgown? She goes to bed in her nightgown?”

“
Si.
Usually it is cotton but I thought the silk would be prettier. Ramon has always liked pretty things.”

“It—it's lovely.” But she hadn't kept it on. Vaguely she remembered Ramon's hands sliding it off her shoulders, but perhaps that was only because she hadn't been waiting for him in bed. Maybe he would have simply raised it to her waist. She couldn't imagine it, not after the things he had done. She couldn't imagine anything between them but hot, sweat-slick skin and moist, fiery kisses.

An odd memory struck her. Carly suddenly straightened, the awful thought nearly sending her to her knees. Dear God! She leaned forward in the chair across from Tia Teresa. “In the morning, when I was”—
stripping the feather mattress to launder the blood from the sheets
—“making the bed, I-I noticed the oddest thing. There was a hole in the sheet on top. It was embroidered in the prettiest white thread, a lovely bouquet of flowers that formed a wreath around the hole. I'd forgotten all about it until now. Surely…”

Carly nervously wet her lips, praying she was wrong. “Surely the woman doesn't lie beneath the … surely the man doesn't…” But when she looked at Tia Teresa, bright spots of color tinted the old woman's cheeks.

She nodded sagely. “It has long been used to protect the woman's modesty. Surely my nephew … showed you how it is done?”

Carly's face felt on fire. “I think we accomplished the same thing, Tia, but not exactly in that way.”

Tia Teresa reached over and patted her hand. “I am certain you did just fine. Besides, a man should understand if you are shy your very first time.”

Shy? The flush in her face suffused her whole body. A memory arose of her begging Ramon not to stop, of her body arching beneath him, of her nails digging into his hard-muscled shoulders.

Her stomach began a nervous roll. Obviously wearing a white lace
mantilla
wasn't enough to make her a real Spanish lady. If she wanted to please Ramon, if she wanted to keep him out of the arms of his beautiful mistress, she would have to learn to behave like the kind of woman he had wanted to marry.

“You must not worry,
niña.
It is not so difficult a thing to endure. You must simply lie there and let him have his way. It is a burden the woman must carry. When I imagine such a thing with my Esteban, I know that I wouldn't have minded it so much.”

Carly's head began to pound with an agonizing beat. Minded? She had craved Ramon's touch, burned for it, not simply endured it. Her body had been on fire for him; it was even now, whenever she thought of the way he had made her feel. What kind of a woman behaved that way? Obviously not a woman of pure Spanish blood.

Dear God, no wonder he had ridden away.

“Thank you, Tia,” Carly finally said, her voice a little strained. “I'm sorry to bother you about such things, but there was no one else I could ask.”

The old woman waved her hand as if it didn't matter in the least. “I am glad to be of help.” She smiled. “Ramon will return soon, and this time, you will know what he expects.”

“Yes.…” Carly glanced away, fighting a fresh tide of embarrassment. Until this moment, she hadn't been the least embarrassed about what had happened between them. She had only prayed it would happen again.

Now that she realized how brazenly she had acted, she was appalled by her behavior. Dear God, how would she ever be able to face him?

“It's getting late.” Carly stood up from the chair. “I think I'll be going to bed.”

Tia Teresa just nodded. “It is time I went to bed, too.”

They left the room together, then parted and went to their own separate quarters along the corridor around the patio. All Carly could think of was the embroidered hole in the sheets Ramon was supposed to use when they made love.

She hated herself for a tingle of disappointment that if he made love to her again, she wouldn't feel the heat of his smooth dark skin against her naked body.

*   *   *

Ten days had passed. Ramon urged the tall bay stallion down the hill toward Rancho Las Almas. He was eager to be home. Eager to see his bride. Eager to return to her bed.

In the days since his wedding, he had come to terms with his feelings for her. His vow had been broken, but he was as much at fault as she was, and there was no sense in regret. The truth was he had wanted Carly McConnell from the start. Now she was his wife and though he had never intended to marry her, he couldn't really say he was sorry.

Fletcher Austin posed a problem, and the fact that Ramon was just as determined as ever to get back his land. But now that Andreas was gone, perhaps the raiding they'd been part of could eventually come to an end. From the beginning, Ramon had argued to find a legal remedy for their troubles, but Andreas had refused to listen. He was blind with rage at his father's needless death and the loss of the de la Guerra lands.

By the time Ramon had arrived from Spain, El Dragón was already raiding. He felt obliged to assist his brother's campaign. Andreas had, after all, assumed the responsibility of protecting the family—Ramon's responsibility—while he had been lounging unawares in a villa in Seville.

Now Andreas was dead. Ramon was the head of the family, and if there was a peaceful way to regain their land, he meant to find it. He would deal with his wife's objections when the time came.

He touched his spurs to the tall bay's ribs and the stallion picked up its pace down the hill. He wished he was riding Rey del Sol, but the big palomino was too easy to spot, just like the magnificent black stallion ridden by El Dragón. At least the bay was well trained—Pedro had seen to that.

As he had been seeing after Ramon's family and his woman.

His
woman, he silently repeated. His wife. His loins went hard just thinking about the evening ahead. He could almost feel Carly's lips clinging to his, taste the sweetness of desire on her breath. In the eye of his mind, he saw her naked, the white silk gown pooled around her slender ankles, her ripe breasts quivering, the small pink tips rising up, stiff and proud against his hand.

The heat of his loins grew more fierce, blades of hot desire knifing through him. There were a dozen ways he wanted to take her, a hundred soft places he wanted to kiss. He knew she would be angry that he had left her, but perhaps there was a way he might explain. Or perhaps just kissing her would be enough to let her know how much he missed her.

Ramon pulled his hat down low across his forehead, set his spurs to the stallion's sides, and sent the animal into a gallop. It would be dark when he got home.

Ramon could hardly wait.

*   *   *

“He is coming! Ramon is coming!”

Carly's heart started thudding, knocking against her ribs. She ran up beside Mother de la Guerra, who stood before the window, gazing out into the night.

“Where? I don't see him.”

“There—” She pointed toward the place where the trail heading east crossed the stream at the side of the house. “Can you not see? Even now he fords the creek.” It was the first time Carly had seen the senora so excited. Mostly she sat rocking, or staring out the window. Carly had come to pity her. At first she hadn't realized how deeply the old woman grieved for her youngest son.

As always, the thought brought a pang of regret. Perhaps if she hadn't rung the bell. Perhaps if Andreas hadn't tried to steal her away.… But she had and he had and now he was dead.

Carly shoved the unpleasant memory aside. Fate had played its roll and what had happened was past. Even Ramon had set it away.

Ramon.
She watched him riding toward her, straight and tall in the saddle, all easy grace and supple strength, he and the horse moving with an elegance she had never witnessed in another rider.

“He will be hungry.” Tia Teresa walked up beside her. “Why do you not see what Blue has left over from supper?”

Carly smiled. “Yes. Yes, I'll do that right away.” She raced out to the kitchen, gave orders to the ancient Indian woman to heat whatever she had left to feed Ramon, then ran back into the living room. She wanted to greet him out in front, to tell him she was sorry that she had behaved as wickedly as she had, that tonight it would be different, but she didn't know what he might be thinking. And she wanted to appear the proper lady.

She thought she had learned to do that at Mrs. Stuart's School for Fashionable Young Ladies, but there had been no lessons on what to do on one's wedding night. Carly flushed a little to think of it, and just then Ramon walked in, his eyes swinging to hers the instant he entered the room.

He took off his hat and hung it on the rack beside the door, turned and hugged his mother. He kissed her hand and then her cheek, a gesture of love and respect among his people, then hugged and kissed his aunt. But his eyes drifted over their heads to where she stood beside the sofa, and there was a glow in the velvet brown depths.

“
Buenas tardes,
Caracita.” A hint of warmth she hadn't expected tinged his voice. “I have missed you these past few days.” Perhaps he had decided to forgive her embarrassing behavior. Perhaps he was going to give her a second chance. She thought of Miranda, felt a flicker of pain, wondered how Miranda had behaved in his bed, but forced the thought away. He was her husband, not Miranda's. He belonged here with her, and this time she would be the one to please him.

“It's good to see you, Ramon.” She smiled at him, and a glimmer of heat slid into his gaze. “Are—are you hungry?”

Yes, his eyes said, but not for food. “
Si.
I have not eaten since this morning.”

She went outside to the kitchen, glad for the time to calm her pounding heart, then returned with a hot plate of
cocido,
a dish of beef and sausage, chiles, carrots, and beans, along with a bowl of pumpkin soup, hot tortillas, and a goblet of rich red wine.

“Will you join me?” he said, glancing up from the steaming plates of food. His eyes took in her simple brown dress, then returned to settle on her lips.

Carly wet them nervously. “No, I … we've already eaten.” She wished she'd had time to change into something pretty and fix her hair, instead of wearing it coiled at the nape of her neck.

“Come, then, sit with me until I finish.”

“All right.”

“Mother?” He motioned the old woman forward. “I would hear what you and Tia have been doing to keep my bride entertained while I have been gone.”

His mother smiled faintly. “Your wife works too much,” she said gruffly, but there was a spark of affection in her voice Carly had never heard. “She helps that useless old Indian, Blue. I have told her she is a de la Guerra. De la Guerra women do not work like slaves, but she does not listen. Perhaps now that her husband is home, she will listen to you.”

Ramon laughed softly. “She has never listened to me before. I cannot think she will do so now.”

Carly flushed. She could hear the affection in his voice and so could everyone else. Inside her heart, the ray of hope blossomed into a bright-burning flame. A surge of love for him welled up, and a small lump formed in her throat. Tonight she would please him, show him she could be the kind of woman he wanted.

She waited patiently while he ate, listening as he spoke with his mother and aunt, then started to clear his dishes when he finished and shoved back his chair.

Ramon caught her hand. “The hour grows late. Why do you not leave this for Blue and return instead to our room? I will join you there in a minute.” His hot look made her dizzy. Dear God, she knew what he was thinking. She was thinking about it, too!

“Yes…” she whispered, her mouth gone dry, the color high in her cheeks. “I'll wait for you there.”

C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN

Carly couldn't look at the women, couldn't face their knowing expressions, no matter the kind thoughts that went with them. Instead she made her way out the door and down the corridor to their bedroom, grateful that the walls of the house were eighteen inches thick. Inside she hurriedly stripped off her clothes, the simple brown day dress with its round white piquet collar, her stockings and shoes. Upper-class Californio women dressed in the European fashion, the same style American women wore. Only the
paisanos
dressed as she had in the mountains.