Cactus Flower (Gone-to-Texas Trilogy) (3 page)

      
His face was harder than she remembered. A premonition flitted through her mind, but she dismissed it once she felt the warm, callused clasp of his long fingers curving around her small, pale hands. “Diego, how good of you to come.”

      
He raised her hands to his lips in a brief, brushing salute, then disengaged gently and stood back to look at her. “Mourning becomes you, Tomasina. I'm very sorry about Jake.”

      
Noting with satisfaction that his eyes lingered on her body, Tomasina nodded gravely and ushered Slade into the vast sala. “I had a kind and indulgent husband, as we both know, Diego.”

      
“And a rich one,” he replied evenly, lifting one thick golden brow.

      
She smiled serenely, ignoring the barb. “Rich, yes, and much older than I.”

      
“He was a decent man, Sina. I honestly hope you made him a good wife.” He ignored her invitation to sit beside her on the settee and went to a small window, where he stared through the iron grillwork.

      
“And why ever shouldn't I have been a dutiful wife, Diego?” Tomasina gave a mock pout, watching his back stiffen as he replied.

      
“Maybe because you didn't love him.” He turned to face her now.

      
“That is not fair, Diego. You presume too much. Just because—”

      
“Just because we were once engaged,” he interrupted her. “I thought you loved me, Sina. But then the senator came along and all that changed.” He stared harshly at her stricken face.

      
“Perhaps it did not change, Diego. What would you say to that?” She heard a small hiss of his breath as he took a step toward her, then stopped himself.

      
“I guess that's what I really came to find out, Sina, not to offer my condolences. I admired Jake, and I feel like a fox in the chicken coop now. I should have waited longer.” He began the restless pacing that had always reminded her of a caged cat.

      
“I'm glad you did not wait, Diego.” She rose from the settee and walked hesitantly toward him. “I...I saw you at the church and I thought...that is, I hoped you would come back here after the burial, but you did not. I need your strength,
querido.
” She stood in front of him, a vision of beauty as she stared into the harsh, angular planes of his face.

      
Slade made no move to touch her, but the anguish in his voice betrayed how desperately he fought his own desires. “Why? Why, Sina! If you loved me, why did you marry Jake?” He had not asked it then, had sworn he would never ask. But the words were torn from him now.

      
A hint of unshed tears glistened in her eyes as she replied, “I was a child, a foolish eighteen-year-old girl, under the sway of my Tia Dolores. Padre favored you, but his sister wished me to marry an older, more stable man. She was my constant companion, Diego, my
dueña
all those years I spent in England. I had not seen Padre since I was thirteen. Everything in Texas was new, unsettling, so foreign.”

      
“And I had just come back from the conquering army that broke the Mexican yoke and freed Texas,” he said, scowling at her.

      
“You have always seemed much more Texian than Tejano, for all you are half Sandoval. I was afraid, Diego, afraid of your recklessness, your bold advances…” She colored deeply. “I feared your passions. Tia Dolores gave me no peace after she found us in the courtyard the evening of the
baille
. Oh,
querido
, there was so much I did not understand!” She placed a small, elegant hand on his coat sleeve.

      
Slade, too, recalled that night, brilliant with stars, warm and languorous. He had brashly taken a delicate, sheltered girl into his embrace and had kissed her with all the fury that a sexually frustrated eighteen-year-old male could muster. He was no novice with women, even then; but from the time he had laid eyes on Tomasina, he had wanted no other. In her innocence, she must have had no way of knowing how she affected him.

      
“Did I really frighten you so much?” He took one callused fingertip and ran it experimentally down her cheekbone and over her delicate jaw.

      
“I did not know what I felt. It was all so new; and when Tia came storming out and dragged me away, screaming at me, I had no time to think about it. She hounded me to go to confession that very night. The next day Jacob came to call, right after mass.”

      
“How convenient,” he scoffed angrily, For the first time in six years, a great many things were beginning to make sense to him.

      
“I'm sure he was summoned by Tia Dolores. He was so calm and gentle, making no physical demands, offering me security and respect.” She paused and looked into his tawny eyes, taking his hand and pressing it to her cheek. “I have learned, Diego, that respect is a cold, comfortless word and security is merely another name for suffocation. He loved me in his own way, and I tried to be a good wife to him. But what is done, is done. That part of my life is over now. I have seen so little of you in six years. You are changed, Diego.”

      
He took her hands in his and led her slowly back to the settee. “I'm six years older,” he said gently.

      
“And so am I,
querido
. I only hope I have changed as much for the better as you have.” She lowered thick black lashes and sat down beside him.

      
“You were and always will be perfection, as you well know, Sina. Maybe we've both grown up, though. That's the important thing. I made my father an unwilling promise that I would marry you, sight unseen. But the moment I laid eyes on you, I was lost. I've loved you ever since the first time I walked into this very room and saw you. I still love you, Tomasina.” He looked into her eyes, willing her to make the next move, but not forcing the issue, not pulling her into his embrace. She must come to him on her own.

      
Sensing his control and knowing what he wanted of her, Tomasina responded hesitantly at first, leaning forward, her hands sliding up his arms, her lips joining his in a soft, tentative kiss. She breathed, “And I love you, Diego.”

* * * *

      
As he rode slowly toward Bluebonnet, Slade relived the scene in the sala over and over, recalling her words of love and contrition, her lavender perfume, her soft flesh. Why didn't he feel more exultant? After years of bitterness and regret, he was finally going to get his wish and fulfill his oath to Will at the same time.

      
He considered the fact that they must wait a decent interval out of respect for Jake's memory. A year was a long time, but after enduring the past six, he knew he could stand one more. Still, it all seemed so easy, so pat, as if Sina had known he would come to her. “Maybe that's what's rankling me,” he said aloud to Polvo. “Well, if the lady thinks she'll call the tune with me, I have a few surprises for her. I'm not a doting older man.” He chuckled, realizing that he was not the boy Sina remembered, either.

      
First, he must settle the matter of Rosie. He frowned, acknowledging she was another reason for the vague sense of uneasiness that followed his covert engagement to Tomasina. He must bid his mistress farewell. There would be enough gossip when he began to court Jake's widow. He could never keep an engaging saloon doxy living at the ranch at the same time!

      
Rosalie Parker was a strikingly pretty woman of twenty-seven, with lustrous chestnut hair and bright hazel-green eyes. She had worked in theaters and dance halls from Tallahassee to Galveston. Jim had found her in Houston a little over a year ago. After several seasons of hard work, he was becoming quite wealthy and could afford to keep a woman in style.

      
Now, he would have to tell her goodbye, but he'd do it in style as well. Rosie had always been as good a sport out of bed as in. He hoped she would continue to be when he made his announcement.

      
The minute Jim walked in that night, Rosalie knew something was wrong and suspected it pertained to Tomasina Carver. He had never spoken of her, but servants did talk, especially the young vaquero Leandro. He had told her much about the beautiful Tejana who had married an older man several years ago and was now widowed. Knowing Jim would explain in his own good time, Rosie did not inquire as they ate dinner in companionable silence.

      
The green cotton dress she wore complimented her eyes and flattered her ample curves. As Jim finished his coffee, signaling the end of the meal, she rose and came around the back of his chair to place her fingers on his temples, kneading the tension from his brow with soft, deft strokes. Then she planted a trail of soft kisses across his throat and chest where his shirt lay open. He reached up and ran a hand through her hair, feeling the rippling, silky flow of its length.

      
“Rosie, I have something to tell you. I should have done it at dinner, but—”

      
She interrupted him with a fierce kiss, then put her fingers on his lips. “I know, but it can wait till later, can't it, darlin’?”
One last time for me, Jim, please,
her eyes pleaded silently. He stood up and drew her into his embrace. They walked slowly to the stairs and climbed them.

      
She had always occupied a small, sunny bedroom at the rear of the upstairs hall. As she moved past his door and led him toward hers, he pulled her gently back, nuzzling her neck, “My room tonight—the bed's bigger.”

      
With a muffled giggle, she followed him into the dark room. He lit a fat tallow candle on the bedside table and then stood still, watching her undress. She slowly unfastened the tiny green buttons of her basque until her large breasts were covered only by a thin, lacy camisole. With languorous ease she slid one arm, then the other free of her long green sleeves. She dropped the dress to the floor with a twitch of her hips.

      
“You have a splendid body, Rosie girl, you know that?” He stepped across the floor and pulled her to him, feeling the soft mounds of her breasts pillow against his chest.

      
”Mmm, so do you, Jimmy boy.” She tugged the crisp white shirt from his sun-bronzed torso, while nuzzling the thick golden hair of his chest. He ran his hands around her buttocks and then grabbed them roughly in his palms, cupping her derriere and lifting it to pull her stomach against his aroused groin.

      
“Get those pants off, lover,” she said in mock command as she pushed him toward the bed, pressing her hands against his chest until he fell backward onto the mattress. Quickly, she knelt and tugged his boots and pants off. When he lay naked across the bed, she tossed the last of her scanty under things on the pile of clothing and slid alongside him. For several minutes they lay side by side, kissing and fondling.

      
If he was inclined to savor their farewell, she was impatient to feel him buried inside her. Boldly, she caressed his shaft until he moaned in pleasure and rolled her on top of him. “Greedy little Rosie,” he gasped out between thrusts, feeling the frantic, joyous working of her hips. His hands grasped her buttocks and slowed her movements.

      
Slade silenced her murmuring complaint with a searing kiss and let her work her wiles on him. She gradually increased the tempo of their joining until he was as frantic as she. When she arched upward and dug her nails into his biceps, gasping and crying his name, he spilled himself deeply within her. She collapsed onto his chest and he cradled her in his arms while they exchanged soft, affectionate kisses.

      
After several quiet moments, he reluctantly sat up against the headboard. “I do have to talk to you, Rosie,” he said seriously.

      
Pulling herself up next to him, she covered them both with the sheet and snuggled in his arms. Before he could continue, she said, “You have to tell me you're going to marry your widow lady and I have to go. I understand, Jim.” Her voice was low and calm. She was proud of its steadiness.

      
“How the hell did you know that? I just talked to Sina this afternoon for the first time in six years!” He looked in amazement at her dear face, so strong and composed, so lovely.

      
She smiled sadly and kissed his neck. “Hired help does gossip, you know, and I was always curious why a stallion like you was still unmarried. Your bein' engaged to Tomasina Aguilar before she married Jake Carver is common knowledge. Now she's a widow, and you come back from visiting her with the weight of the world on your shoulders. Not much to figure, darlin'. I only hope she's got more sense this time than the last.”

      
He let out a small chuckle. “Rosie, my wonderful, honest girl, I do believe you are worth any ten women alive.”

      
“But you're goin' to marry your lady anyway. You'll be a faithful husband to her and raise half a dozen handsome yellow-haired sons, right?”

      
“I hope so, Rosalie, I hope so. It's what Pa wanted, what Bluebonnet needs. I swore to him I'd marry Sina, even though I didn't want to at first.”

      
“What changed your mind?” She studied his face intently.

      
“I met the lady in question. Call it love at first sight, I guess,” he confessed ruefully.

      
“And you still feel that way...after all these years?” Rosalie was doubtful.

      
“Oh, I'm not a starry-eyed, eighteen-year-old boy who'll let her every wish be my command, no. But I do desire her, and she has all the qualities I want in a wife. She says she loves me now that she's old enough to know her own mind and be free of her family. I believe her. The hard part's going to be waiting out the period of mourning for Jake. For decency's sake, it should be something over a year.”