Nan Ryan (34 page)

Her slender fingers enclosing him, the princess surprised herself when she said, “You said that from the minute you turned this evening and saw me standing in the
sala
, you could think of nothing but being inside me again.”

“I meant it.”

She stroked him gently and said, “Wait no longer, my love.”

She released him and lay back on the pillows. He nudged her thighs wider apart and eagerly came between. Both moaned with pleasure when he filled her with his hard throbbing flesh.

Gently he moved in her, taking her with unhurried movements, enjoying the feel and heat of her body. For as long as either could stand it, they made love at a leisurely pace, purposely drawing out the joy, making it last. But soon both were wanting more, hurrying to give and to get total ecstasy. Unable to deny themselves one second longer.

Virgil drove into her hard and fast, bringing on the ultimate pleasure both sought. When she began to cry out, Virgil groaned and kissed her to silence them both. She felt his powerful release, and the knowledge she had given it to him took her yet another step higher.

When the intense ecstasy finally ended, they were drained and exhausted. They lay together unmoving, content, their bodies damp and slippery with perspiration. Late though it was, a guitar still played in the courtyard below, the romantic music softly serenading the spent lovers. The sweet smell of roses mingled with the not unpleasant scent emanating from their naked entwined bodies. The moon had risen higher in the night sky, slowly taking with it the luminous light that had spilled across the bed earlier.

When finally the bed and its occupants were swallowed up in the hot darkness, the princess sighed, stirred, and whispered, “Virgil, you awake?”

“Mmmm.”

“You better go back to your room before we fall asleep.”

“I won’t fall asleep.”

She yawned. “No? How will you keep from it?”

“By making love to you.”

Tired and as sated as she was, the princess felt her pulse quicken at his words. Surely he wasn’t serious. Even if he wanted to make love to her again, his body couldn’t possibly,… He wouldn’t be able to,… That powerful male part of him wasn’t capable of … of …

Or was it?

Not sure how to phrase it, she said, “You’re teasing me. You haven’t the … stamina.”

She was surprised to hear him chuckle in the darkness and say, “Come sunrise, you won’t be saying that.”

36

Brilliant morning sunshine
greeted the princess when she stepped into the hacienda’s dining room. On seeing her, Virgil and the don came swiftly to their feet.

“Ah,
Señorita
Eva,” said Don Amondo, flashing her a wide smile and hurrying to her. “Good morning to you! You slept well I hope?”

Smiling tensely, she allowed the don to usher her forward and, not daring to look at Virgil, replied, “I did, yes,
gracias.
The bed was … most comfortable. I feel quite rested and refreshed.”

“
Bueno, bueno,
” said the pleased don, and pulled out a chair for her.

“Mornin’, Miss Eva,” Virgil drawled in that flat Texas twang as she slid into the chair.

“Good morning, Virgil,” she said, looked nervously at him, and immediately felt her empty stomach do a violent flip-flop.

Blushing profusely, she shook out the large white linen napkin, draped it across her trousered knees with trembling fingers, and hoped the don, now returning to his chair, wouldn’t notice how ill at ease she was. Or, how red her face. She vowed that she would not so much as glance at Virgil again. It simply was not safe.

“A good night’s sleep has put roses in your cheeks, no?” said the don, drawing her attention back to him.

“Y-yes,” she managed, feeling her face growing hotter with the lie.

“If you are to keep them there,” warned the don, “you must have a breakfast
grande
!”

Before she could respond, a bevy of bustling servants entered carrying china platters filled with all manner of breakfast edibles, both hot and cold. Fresh fruits were attractively arranged on a bed of chipped ice. Piping hot breads and plate-sized tortillas rested in a cloth-lined basket. There was ham and bacon and thick juicy steaks sizzling in their own juice. Eggs fried and scrambled and boiled. And fluffy golden omelets seasoned with red and green hot peppers.

Platter after platter was passed to her, and to be polite, the princess took small helpings of several dishes. But she wasn’t really hungry. Food was the last thing on her mind. She sipped chilled apricot nectar and, unable to help herself, stole covert glances at Virgil.

Lord, he was handsome this morning! He wore a starched white shirt, obviously borrowed from the oldest Rivas boy’s closet. The shirt was a might too snug, the cotton fabric straining across his wide shoulders and pulling tautly around his hard biceps. The collar was open at the throat, and the sleeves were rolled up over tanned forearms. His jet black hair was neatly brushed, but an unruly lock fell forward onto his high forehead. His beautiful blue eyes were slightly bloodshot.

She knew the reason.

They had not slept a wink. And she had learned, to her surprised delight, that a healthy, hot-blooded male could indeed make love over and over again in a single night. The slight soreness between her legs was silent testimony to Virgil’s incredible prowess.

Less than an hour ago, with the sun beginning to rise, Virgil had hastily gathered up his discarded clothes, kissed her one last time, slipped onto the balcony as naked as the day he was born, and hurried back to his own room.

Just in time.

Not five minutes after he left, Consuela had knocked on the door, and the princess was forced to search frantically for the nightgown she hadn’t worn. She had scurried around the room, pushing her tumbled hair out of eyes, before she finally found it under the bed, pulled it hurriedly over her head, leaped back up into the rumpled bed, took a quick breath, and said, “Come in.”

A close call.

“
Señorita
—” the don’s voice snapped her out of her reverie, “you are not eating. Are you feeling well?”

“Yes, I feel fine,” she assured him, nodding, allowing him to place a golden omelette on her plate. Cutting into a piece of rare, juicy steak, Virgil quietly shifted his gaze to her and shuddered inwardly. Damn it to hell! The long, exhausting night of lovemaking hadn’t worked after all. He still wanted her. Wanted her more than ever. Wanted her right now.

God, she looked adorable this morning! Her long hair was pulled to the back of her head and secured at the nape of her neck with some feminine adornment, revealing her cute, small, slightly protruding ears. She wore a long-sleeved white blouse with tight-fitting butter-yellow suede riding breeches and a pair of gleaming brown leather boots. Tied at her throat was a silk bandanna the exact hue of her beautiful emerald eyes. One end of the green bandanna had slipped down inside her blouse, was caught in the shadowy valley between her breasts. His fingers itched to free it.

Virgil made himself look away, instantly angry. And frightened. Scared to death. A few short hours ago he had been so cocky, so certain that a hot night of abandoned lovemaking with this beautiful red-haired witch would put an end to his nagging desire. It hadn’t. Far, far from it. Jesus, now he—

“Don’t you agree, Virgil?” said the don.

“I … pardon?” Virgil had no idea what had been said.

Smiling, the don waved a dismissive hand in the air. “It was nothing important.” He frowned then and, looking straight at Virgil, said accusingly, “I know you too long,
amigo.
Something is bothering you. Something is on your mind. Last night you seemed distracted, troubled. Is there anything I can do?”

It was Virgil’s turn to lay down his fork and wave a dismissive hand. “Nothing’s wrong. Not a thing. I have never felt better in my—”

A loud shout from outside made Virgil stop speaking. More shouts followed, and then an excited servant dashed into the dining room, exclaiming, “They’re home, Don Amondo. They’re coming up the driveway.”

The don quickly came to his feet, tossed his napkin on the table, and said, “Come,
mis amigos
! Soledad and my children have returned at last!”

Breakfast forgotten, Virgil and the princess followed the excited Don Amondo out of the hacienda and onto the broad flagstone patio. Two big black coaches were coming up the pebbled driveway. They rolled to a stop, and from out of the twin coaches spilled eight laughing Rivas offspring along with the serene, statuesque beauty who was their mother.

The don and dona embraced, and she whispered something in his ear that made him color beneath his dark skin.

Then the laughing, happy don was quickly enveloped in a swarm of affectionate children, while the elegant Doña Soledad offered her hand and a warm smile to Ranger Black. The princess almost fainted of shock when Virgil gently raised that small hand to his lips, kissed it, then embraced the hand-some Mexican woman, enfolding her gently in his long arms.

When he released her, he drew the princess forward and said, “Doña Soledad, may I present Miss Eva Jones. Eva, I’d like you to meet Doña Soledad Rivas.”

Doña Soledad said graciously, “I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Jones. I am happy Virgil brought you to visit.”

“
Gracias
, Doña Soledad,” said the princess, smiling.

The older woman, smiling warmly, inclined her well-coiffed head toward Virgil and said, “I do hope you won’t mind sharing Virgil for a while.” The princess gave her a quizzical look. “See what I mean?” said the dona.

The princess nodded with understanding as the stair-stepped Rivas children, having left their father flushed from their hugs and kisses, turned their attention on Virgil. Surrounding him, the chattering girls all kissed him, the boys shook his hand and patted him affectionately on the back. The youngest of the bunch—tiny, four-year-old Ramon—fought his way through his big brothers and sisters and was promptly snatched up into the arms of a laughing Virgil Black.

The boy’s mother and the princess watched as the precious little boy wrapped his short arms around Virgil’s neck and unabashedly gave the tall dark Ranger a big kiss. The princess felt her heart squeeze in her chest. She had never been able to picture the tough, hard-faced Texas Ranger with a child. Any more than she was able to picture herself with a baby.

“Ramon loves Virgil very much,” said Doña Soledad. “All my children love this big brave Ranger.”

Nodding, gazing at the enigmatic man whose hard-planed face had softened amazingly as he held the little boy, the princess allowed herself, for the very first time, to actually think of Virgil Black as a husband. A father. And of herself as a wife. A mother.

The daydreaming princess was swept back inside the hacienda on a tide of Rivases. Place settings were hastily added to the long dining table. Another complete breakfast was cooked. And, for the next pleasant hour, it was like a holiday in the dining room. The big family gathered around the table, sharing the morning meal and the high points of their trip. All the Rivas children were eager to tell their beaming papa of their adventures, and in their excitement, they would interrupt each other and talk two or three at a time. Their indulgent father listened with genuine interest, glancing often at his wife as some silent, secret message passed between them.

The princess looked from one glowing face to another and momentarily envied this big happy family. She had never had a brother or sister, and she realized now that she had missed so much. It was as if she could actually feel the love of these siblings and their proud parents filling every tiny space in this large dining room.

Warmed in the bright glow of all that love, the princess impulsively laid a hand on the arm of the pretty eighteen-year-old seated beside her and whispered, “Soraya, Consuela loaned me your clothes. I hope you don’t mind too much.”

The pretty young girl laughed and said, “No,
señorita
, not at all. Virgil’s
querida
is welcome to anything I have.”

“Soraya, you’ve misunderstood,” whispered the princess. “I’m not Virgil’s sweetheart.”

Soraya started to disagree, but the eldest Rivas boy, twenty-one-year old Arto, pinged on his glass with a fork to get everyone’s attention, then told of fighting a young bull on a friend’s
rancho
in Chihuahua City. He was hardly finished with his story before the other Rivas children were telling of their varied adventures on the lengthy trip.

Finally interrupting, Virgil said, “Much as I hate it, the time has come for us to leave.”

Every Rivas, including little Ramon, protested loudly, begging Virgil to stay on for a few days or at least to spend the night. They were still protesting when the saddled Noche and a gentle bay gelding from the Rivas remuda were brought around to the graveled front drive.

The entire Rivas clan ushered the departing pair out of the hacienda and to the waiting horses.

Speaking loudly to be heard above the din while shaking hands with the don, Virgil said, “I’ll see to it that the gelding gets back to Tierra del Encanto.”