Renegade Love (Rancheros) (25 page)

He stopped and was about to ease out of her and she cried out, “No! No, don’t stop, please don’t stop. ”

Seeing her in the throes of yet another climax, it wakened another arousal in him, and he soon had her lying back on the bed, her legs wrapped tightly around him, as if she feared he would slip out of her and both of them engaged in another frantic rhythm, racing toward a climax that rushed at them in a wave of never-ending pleasure.

Esteban finally rolled off her and they both lay flat on their backs, their breathing labored, though he locked his fingers with hers, as if keeping her from leaving his side.

Rosa lay there more satiated than she ever thought possible.

They lay in the large bed, the afternoon sun drifting through the open doors, admitting a soft breeze. Rosa was glad that this section of the hacienda contained a lot of privacy, for she did not want to ever stifle her cries of pleasure when making love with Esteban.

She lay there beside her husband completely relaxed and happy. She was actually happy for the first time in a very long time. She would have never expected that Esteban could fill her with such joy but he did, not that he couldn’t be difficult at times.

With a slow turn of her head, she gazed upon her husband. She wasn’t surprised to see him sleeping soundly. Whatever he had been up to had left him completely exhausted. He would sleep for hours no doubt, but she wasn’t tired, she felt more exhilarated than ever and the day was beautiful, and the gardens beckoned. She could fill a vase with freshly cut flowers and place them in their room. Then he would wake to the rich fragrance.

Convincing herself that it was a good plan, Rosa carefully and slowly inched her hand out of her husband’s and just as carefully rolled to the edge of the bed and off it. She gave a tentative look his way, worried that she may have woken him, but he hadn’t budged and her heart went out to him. He looked so peaceful and content and she smiled, knowing she had been the reason for his contented slumber. She wouldn’t be gone long, though she had no doubt that he’d sleep for hours, perhaps even into tomorrow. However, she wanted to be there, in his arms, when he woke.

She quietly slipped into her skirt and blouse and grabbing her sandals went out the open doors. She gathered what she needed and the basket overflowed with sweet scents. She so enjoyed herself that she lost all thought of time and when she finally realized that the sun wasn’t at its highest any longer, she grabbed her full basket and hurried back to her bedchamber.

She turned in through the open doors and stopped. Esteban sat naked on the edge of the bed, his eyes scanning the room. When he saw her, he stood, walked over to her, stepped around her to close the doors, took the basket of flowers from her hand to sit on the floor, and then he quickly stripped her naked and scooped her up and carried her back to bed, pinning her body with his, kissing her and entering her all at once.

She wasn’t surprised at how quickly she came, having had grown wet at the sight of him naked and thoroughly aroused. And afterwards he wrapped himself around her, settling her comfortably against him, though his whispered words were not what she wanted to hear.

“You’re mine and you’ll go nowhere without my permission.”

He was asleep shortly after and she lay there awake wondering what to do. She had a larger taste of freedom by going off with the padre to Los Angeles. And she had to admit that she had enjoyed the adventure. She grew restless, her thoughts much too busy to sleep. The sun still shined bright, a warm breeze drifted in the air and she couldn’t help but think of how inviting the garden had been. Dare she attempt to leave her sleeping husband once again?

When she heard a light snore from Esteban, she smiled and slowly worked her way out of his arms. She slipped into her clothes quickly and just before she was about to leave the room, she stopped. She quietly tiptoed to the chest where her drawing material lay and carefully gathered it together and finally scooted out the doors, closing them silently behind her.

She chose the garden not far from her bedchamber, knowing Esteban would no doubt come searching for her once he woke. She settled herself beneath a large, double-trunk oak tree, its wide, lower branches providing adequate shade against the bright sun.

As soon as she began to sketch, her mind began to ease and it wasn’t long before all thoughts faded and she became lost in drawing.

That was how Esteban found her a couple of hours later, sitting under the tree, several drawings surrounding her while she busily worked on another one. When he woke he had been disappointed she hadn’t been there beside him. He had worried where she had gone off to and had rushed to dress and go find her.

He called out as he approached her. “I’ve been searching for you.”

Her head shot up and she smiled. “And you have found me.”

He sat beside her in the shade, picking up one drawing after another to admire. “These are beautiful. You are quite talented.”

“Thank you.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to go anywhere without my permission,” he said and rested his back against the thick tree trunk.

“I am safe, I am home and I will always return home.”

“That’s what I thought when I was captured, and it took me sixteen years to return home.”

Rosa turned quietly to face her husband, hoping he would talk about his time with Pacquito and hoping by doing so he would help purge his past and release his pain.

“Every day I thought about escaping,” Esteban said, “but it was difficult when Pacquito kept a rope around my neck and led me around like some animal. Now and then he’d remove the rope and I would attempt to escape. It took several efforts and whippings for me to realize that I was doing exactly what he wanted me to do. Pacquito enjoys beating people and he does it until he has the person begging for mercy, though he rarely gives it.”

He grew silent and Rosa worried that he would say no more. She almost sighed aloud when he continued.

“I also learned fast that if I showed the slightest inclination of attachment to anyone or thing, Pacquito would...” His features grew stern, as if he was steeling himself against the horrific memories, and he turned his head away for a moment.

Rosa did not want to imagine the endless cruelty that Pacquito must have put him through. It was no wonder he found it difficult to form any attachment. Caring had cost him severe pain.

“Pacquito’s men are cold, heartless, bas—” he stopped. “His men obey or else.”

She wanted to ask the one question that was on everyone’s mind. Why did he wait so long to escape such a hell? But she didn’t know if the time was right. He was just beginning to open up to her and share his past. She didn’t want to take the chance that he would turn silent and say no more. So she kept the question to herself, for now.

He stared at her a moment, as if debating with himself to continue and, then said, “Pacquito provided his men with women, he insisted on it, and they weren’t always willing ones. He would make each of his men take a woman, on her hands and knees, in front of everyone. Sometimes he would take the woman first, and then the man would have her afterwards.” He shook his head. “Refusing wasn’t an option, unless one wanted to be beaten unmercifully and forced to do it anyway.”

The repulsive image sent a chill through her and her pain for him grew. “I cannot imagine the horror of being forced to go against one’s nature to survive. It must have been horrendous for you.”

Most women would have run away from him by now and would never want to be defiled by his touch again. It had been the very reason why he had no intentions of ever telling his wife about it. Yet somehow he had felt the need to confess to her. Perhaps he had wanted to give her a chance to run away from him. Or perhaps he wanted no secrets between them. He wanted her to know everything about him, no matter how high the cost. And yet here she sat not only offering comfort, but believing that he was a good man forced to do an evil deed to survive. But how long would she believe in him with the more she learned?

“The horror is that that isn’t the worst of it.”

She shocked him even more when she rested her hand on his and said, “Then it is good that you are finally home and away from such evil. Now you can finally be free to be the good man you truly are.”

How could she still believe him a good man when he had done such horrible things? And yet here she sat with a look of sympathy for him rather than disgust. But what if he told her... “There was an old woman,” —sadness filled his eyes— “Lequita. She tended my wounds, snuck me food, and encouraged me to be brave. She...”

This time when he paused, Rosa knew he wouldn’t continue. It was as if he suddenly locked his memories away, and she wondered what had happened that caused him to not want to remember.

The urge to make love to her overwhelmed him or perhaps he simply wanted to know if she would now abhor his touch and the mere mention of intimacy. He was about to find out when she spoke and he felt a sense of relief. Was he that worried that she would deny him? Or was he more worried that he would not let her? His wife had become a tonic to his soul that he could not do without.

“May I draw you?”

“Have your way with me,” he said and settled comfortably against the tree trunk.

“Later,” she said with a slight blush, “for now I’ll draw you.”

Esteban never showed emotion, so it always pleased Rosa when she got an unexpected reaction from him. His brow scrunched and he tilted his head slightly, as if he wasn’t certain that he had heard her correctly.

She quickly turned to gather her drawing materials, though mostly to hide the smile that she couldn’t stop from surfacing.

She yelped when his arm coiled around her waist and he yanked her onto his lap.

“Give me a sample of later,” he whispered in her ear.

The privacy of their bedroom was one thing, but here in the open where anyone could see them. She felt her body flush with heat that she should be so daring. Without further thought she turned her head to claim his lips in a hungrier kiss than she thought possible.

He returned it with just as much passion, his hand easing his way up her blouse to settle gently over one breast.

She startled at his tender touch, her nipple hardening as soon as his finger grazed it and she wished it was his mouth that teased it. As usual she was already wet and ready for him and he no doubt was the same since he grew harder and harder against her.

Light laughter and voices broke them reluctantly apart, though Esteban kept a firm arm around her waist so that she could not move off his lap.

When Dona Valerianna and Padre Marten rounded the corner and caught sight of them, Rosa flushed with embarrassment. Dona Valerianna did the same while Esteban glared.

“Is there something I can do for you, Padre?” he asked curtly.

The padre cleared his throat nervously as if he was about to give a sermon, and then shook his head, thinking better of it and said, “No, nothing,” —then with a sudden change of mind added— “though I would suggest that you do your wife and you a favor and seek confession so that Rosa and you may once again attend Mass.”

“Believe me, Padre, there would be no absolution for my sins,” Esteban said.

“As you say, Esteban.” The padre acknowledged with a slight bow of his head. “Now I must be going.”

Dona Valerianna ushered him away with a promise of a basket of fruit fresh from the orchards.

Esteban turned stern eyes on his wife. “Don’t think to convince me to seek confession and save my soul. You will waste your breath.”

“There is no point to seek confession... yet.”

“Yet?”

She nodded. “God will know you are ready for absolution when first you forgive yourself.”

“Forgive myself for what, for allowing myself to be turned into a beast?”

Rosa placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “For surviving.”

“At what cost? At least in death there would have been honor.”

“You survived a brutal capture and returned home, you think there is no honor in that?”

“The cost was too great.”

“If you truly thought that, then you would have perished many years ago.”

His wife was far more perceptive than he realized. The same thought had haunted him through the years. Why had he fought so hard to survive? The answer had always been the same. No matter what it took, he had wanted to return home to his family. And he finally had, only to find the impossible... a wife that loved him.

The urge to make love to his wife returned with a vengeance, perhaps because it was the one way, or the only way, he had of showing how much he... damn, but he loved her. Yet he fought against it, knowing that in the end his love for her would only bring her pain. And that was an inconceivable thought to him. He would not see her suffer, and so he would not let anyone know that he loved her more and more each day.

Rosa broke the silence with a tender kiss to his cheek. “Let me draw you.” She didn’t wait for his consent. She slipped off his lap and he let her go.

He sat in silence listening to the sound of graphite against paper and the sometime rustle of leaves when a warm breeze swept down around them. He hadn’t known such contentment in a long time and before he realized it, his eyes drifted closed and he fell asleep.

Rosa didn’t disturb her husband. He needed to rest and she didn’t need his eyes open to draw him accurately. She knew his eyes by heart, and so she continued to draw.

Esteban rode his horse hard and fast. He had to get to his wife. She was gone and he couldn’t find her. No matter where he went, where he searched, he couldn’t find her. His heart pounded in his chest and his fear mounted. He knew who had her and he knew he’d have to kill him to free her. He heard her scream his name over and over and he rode faster and faster getting nowhere.

“Esteban. Esteban,” Rosa said, trying to wake her husband from an obvious nightmare, though having difficulty.

He woke with a start, springing forward away from the tree.

Rosa quickly placed her cheek to his and whispered, “I’m here with you. It’s all right.”