Destiny's Captive (13 page)

“Hated them growing up.”

“Why?”

“Because no one outside of our family had them. The children at school called Doneta and me the Leper Twins.”

“They're not that prominent. They look like tiny shavings of cinnamon bark.”

“In my mind they were large as coconuts.”

He brushed his lips over them again. “I think they're sweet.”

Pilar didn't know if she was supposed to thank him, but her heart was beating so fast, she doubted she'd've been able to form the words anyway.

“Thank you for the fun, today.”

“You're welcome.” Her eyes strayed to his mouth. “Is this the way with all husbands and wives?”

“Not always, but with the right husband and the right wife it can be.”

“Do your brothers have the right wives?”

He nodded. “They're all madly in love.”

Pilar doubted the two of them would ever fit that description yet wondered what it might be like to be madly in love. She supposed maybe she should've read a few of the books her sister took such pleasure in instead of trying to help win a war. “Why did you really want to marry me? And none of that hokum about my handling a sword.”

“Didn't care for that explanation?”

“Nor did I believe it.”

“You should, because it was partly true. Crossing swords with you made me feel more alive than anything has in quite some time—years in fact.”

Although he'd replied with what sounded like sincerity she wasn't sure it was the truth.

“Doubts?” he asked as if having read her mind.

“Yes, but only because I don't know you well enough to be able to know what's truth and what's not.”

“I spoke truly. No woman has ever challenged me with a sword before and I found it . . . invigorating.”

“You're very odd.”

He laughed softly. “And you say that, why?”

“Blood sport isn't meant to invigorate.”

“But it did. In fact, I can't wait for you to get angry enough at me again to want my heart on the point of your sword.”

She shook her head, unable to fathom the very strange American she was now wife to. “You're safe then. My mother made me leave my grandfather's behind when we left Cuba, and there was no room in my bag for Tio Miguel's.”

“When we get home, we'll find you another.”

That surprised her.

“And I can give you lessons.”

“I don't need lessons. My grandfather taught me well enough.”

“No. Your stance was too open and you let your emotions rule your strikes.”

“So, you can teach me well enough to beat you?”

“Not on your life, but I can teach you to be better than you are now.”

“Then I suppose I shall have to be satisfied with that.” Pilar didn't want to like him but he had a way about him that made it hard to maintain her distance, and she didn't even want to think about what his kisses were doing to the barriers she'd been trying to keep intact.

“So, what would you like to do now?”

“I've no idea, but later I'd like to find someone who can cook me a good Cuban meal before I'm relegated to pork belt leather for the rest of my existence.”

“American food is not that bad.”

“That's only because you don't know any better. Have you ever had
frijoles negros
?”

“Of course. Everyone traveling to your country has black bean soup and I enjoy it.”

“What about black beans with rice and
maduros
?”

“No.”

“Ropa vieja
?”

“No. Which is?”

“Shredded beef over rice.”

“Ah.”

“How about
sancocho
?”

He shook his head.

“Your stomach has been so deprived. Hopefully one day you'll be able to eat like a Cuban, and you'll never be content with pork belt leather again.”

He kissed her brow. “As I said, invigorating. Now, up with you. Let's walk. My legs have gone to sleep.”

“I didn't ask to sit here,” she reminded him.

“I know, but husbands enjoy having their wives on their laps. The kisses have been fun as well.”

She wouldn't meet his eyes. They had been fun but he didn't need to know how she felt.

He gently turned her chin around. “Did you not like the kisses?”

She didn't reply.

“Refusing to answer means, yes you know.”

“It does not.”

He drew his finger slowly over the shape of her lips, leaving behind a trail of heat. “Sure it does.” He repeated the lazy tracing. Her eyes slid closed and she wondered if this was what Doneta meant about him being deliciously wicked—or had it been wickedly delicious? Pilar couldn't recall. In fact, she was having difficulty recalling anything at the moment.

He placed his lips lightly against hers, then sensually increased the pressure until her defenses slowly crumbled and she began answering him measure for measure.

Moving to the shell of her ear, he husked out, “Did you like my kisses,
querida
?”

Hearing him whisper the word so seductively turned her insides into warm honey and she was ready to tell him whatever he wished to hear.

“You know that lying is a sin.”

Pilar couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't do anything that constituted the strong, fearless woman she knew herself to be. Seated on his lap and being treated to the spell of his deliciously wicked kisses made her as boneless as a jellyfish washed up on the beach. And in reality, she didn't care.

He circled a finger around her nipple and she drew in a soft shuddering breath. Most of her adult life, she'd never given her breasts much thought—they'd simply been another part of her anatomy, but his touches made them bloom and hunger in a way she'd never thought possible and she found herself wanting to strip away her blouse so his hands could caress her flesh.

“If I take you in my mouth again, will you say yes . . .”

Pilar whimpered.

“Shall, I Pilar?”

Bold hands were undoing the buttons on her blouse, bolder kisses were moving over the bared skin above her exposed chemise. He tugged it down and took the freed breast into his mouth to feast, to tempt, and make her groan aloud from the exquisite sensation. “Noah.”

“Say yes,
reina guerrera
.”

He treated the other breast to the same dazzling conquering, then worked his way back and forth, until she thought she'd go insane. “Yes,” she gushed. “
Dios
, yes!”

In his wildest dreams Noah never imagined wanting a woman so much. His desire for her filled him like the opening notes of a beautiful sonata. He wanted to kiss her, touch her, taste her, suckle her sweetness until he was old and gray. “God, you're sweet,” he whispered and left her breasts to take her lips again while his hands kept up their ardent play.

He looked up to find a small boy watching them with wide eyes. At the boy's side stood a brown-and-white spotted dog. Noah paused. Pilar noticed the child, too, and quickly turned against his chest to cover herself.

“Go away!” Noah growled, and the boy took off at a run with the dog close on his heels.

He glanced down at her. “My apologies for not keeping better watch.”

“You were a bit busy.”

He chuckled and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I was indeed.”

She used the moment to right her clothing.

“I'll keep better watch next time.”

“There will be no next time.”

He sighed. “You do know you're destined to be proven wrong.”

“I know nothing of the sort.”

He slid a finger over her now covered nipple and she playfully slapped at his hand. “Stop that!”

“You're the one insisting I need more fun in my life, and as soon as I find an outlet you want to change your tune.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“You don't know the half of it,” he declared meaningfully, enjoying the play. “Up with you. Let's get our stockings and shoes and go back to the room. Later we'll see if we can find you some Cuban food for your last meal. And who knows, maybe we'll take one last stroll down here after we're done.”

“Only if you promise not to undress me.”

“My mother taught me to never make promises I can't keep.”

“Crazy American.”

On the way back, they stopped at the telegraph office so he could send a message to his mother to let her know he was on his way back to California with a bride.

A
fter they returned to the room, an uncharacteristic shyness filled Pilar again. Being in the small space made her all the more aware of him, leaving her unsure where to settle her eyes even though he was all she could see. “I should probably wash off the salt and sand before we venture out again,” she told him.

“Shall I have water brought up?”

“If it isn't too much trouble.”

He exited and she let out an unconsciously held breath. Just like last night his caresses today on the beach left her body shimmering. Her lips were kiss swollen, her nipples yearning for more, and no matter how much she tried to ignore her response, the sensual power he wielded would not let her be. He'd awakened something inside herself that now hungered to be fed and she was left wondering how to make it cease. Surely well brought up women didn't let their husbands bare them in public and not care about being seen. Yet she'd done both and that secretive, awakened portion of herself eagerly anticipated further encounters. Shocked by the thoughts, she cast the yearnings aside and prayed the old, disciplined Pilar Banderas would somehow stand up and reassert herself. This new Pilar Yates was a woman she didn't know, recognize, or seemingly control.

He returned with a servant girl bearing water. Once the buckets were set inside the screen, the girl departed.

“I'll wait out on the verandah to give you some privacy.”

“Thank you.”

Once she finished and put on fresh clothing, she joined him on the verandah.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. Give me a moment to clean up and I have a surprise for you.”

“What is it?”

“If I tell you it won't be much of a surprise now, will it?”

“No, I suppose not,” she said eyeing him with a bit of skepticism.

“It will be something you will enjoy, I promise.”

While she waited, she wondered about the surprise, but decided she'd know soon enough, so she reviewed the day. She thought he'd taken the information she'd shared about her family's background as well as could be expected. After all it wasn't every day that a person from a family as esteemed as his found themselves married to someone like her. But as she'd stated, she'd never steal so much as a pea off a plate from his family, and she hoped he believed her. She was still dazzled by his kisses, but no matter the attraction, there would have to be more to their marriage. What would become of her when they reached California? There'd be no call for rebels, and certainly no reason to be smuggling guns. What role was she expected to play in his life, and more important, in her own? She doubted she'd be content to spend her days shopping and ordering the servants around like her aunt Simona. So what would she do? It was a subject she needed to discuss with him and it was her hope he'd have an answer she could embrace.

She heard movement inside the room and went to investigate. The sight of a strange man and woman setting a table with dishes from a stacked cart stopped her in her tracks. When she looked over at Noah he smiled. “Your surprise.”

Once the woman left, he gestured. “Shall we dine?”

She sat, he helped her with her chair, and took a seat opposite her.

When he began removing the covers from the food she was truly surprised. Cuban food!

“Where'd this come from?” she asked eagerly, eyeing the familiar sights and savoring the heady aromas.

“When I went down to make arrangements for the water, I asked Mrs. Fitzhugh if she knew anyone who did good Cuban food, and the answer was yes. She has a good friend who owns a boardinghouse close by and the cook there is from your country.”

“I love her!”

The appetizer was still warm
chatinas
, and she munched the fried green plantains with glee. The main dish,
pollo asado,
a Cuban version of roast chicken highlighted by a sweet tomato sauce known as
salsa crillo
, was so good and tasted so much like her grandmother's it brought tears to her eyes. Along with the chicken was
Moros y Cristianos,
a side dish of black beans and rice.

“‘Moors and Christians'?” he asked, doing the translation.

She nodded. “The black beans are the Moors, the white rice is the Christians. In Cuba though, it's the Africans and the Spanish.”

Dessert was
flan Cubano
, a rich caramel delight made with milk and eggs. Once she finished her serving, Pilar was so stuffed she couldn't eat another bite. “Thank you, Noah. Everything was outstanding.”

“You're welcome.”

“I wish we could take the cook with us on our journey to your home,” she said. “Although it might be a challenge to prepare
flan Cubano
while traveling with goats and pigs.”

“True. I'm glad you enjoyed your surprise.”

“I did. You have my permission to surprise me anytime.”

“I'll keep that in mind for the future.”

Something passed between them and she wondered why this man affected her so.

“Is your mother a good cook?” he asked.

“Not really, she grew up with servants when she was young, so when she married my father she didn't even know how to boil beans. But my grandmother—she could cook a wooden crate and we'd all line up for more.”

“And you?”

“I did most of the cooking at home, when I was there. Your mother's Spanish—weren't you raised on food like this?”

“No. There are flans for special occasions but we eat mostly American food—steaks, potatoes, some rice.”

“Belt leather pork?”

He chuckled. “Yes, lots and lots of bacon.”

She made a face. “Do you think your mother would mind if I cooked every now and then?”

“She has a cook. An Irishwoman named Bonnie, but I doubt she'd mind, especially if this is what you'll be putting on the table. Once we get our own place, you can cook as often as you want.”

“Good. What's your mother like?”

“Fearless, stubborn, and when I left home last, very much in love.” He went on to explain about his mother's newly wedded status and the story that went with it.

“Have you ever been in love?” she asked.

“No.”

“Neither have I but my mother truly loved my father. Doneta wants that kind of love, too.”

“And you?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. Being with someone who doesn't mind that I smuggled guns and began stealing almost as soon as I could walk is enough for me. It doesn't have to be a love match.”

He met her eyes.

“I don't expect you to love me, Noah.”

“Suppose we do wind up loving each other?”

She scoffed, “Don't be silly.”

“Why is that silly?”

“Because it just is. Can I ask you something serious?” She wanted to change the subject.

He didn't call her out about it though. He sipped at his wine and said, “Of course.”

“What will I do as your wife? Do your brothers' wives work at anything?”

“Logan's wife, Mariah, is a seamstress, not sure what Drew's wife, Billie, does. What would you like to do?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I don't know but I'd like to do something. Do you have people who take care of your animals?”

On his side of the table, Noah almost laughed but realized she was serious. “Yes, the ranch employs men to do that.” He couldn't believe she was asking to be a ranch hand. “My mother does some charity work through her church. Maybe you'd like to help with that.”

“Maybe. I'm good with a machete. Do you have brush that needs to be cut back or trees to clear?”

“Pilar, you're not going to be a field hand.”

“Why not?”

“Because you're my wife.”

“So I'm not supposed to earn my place.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It isn't necessary.”

“Does money grow on trees in California?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I need to contribute.”

He sensed he was not going to win this, so he said, “How about we discuss this again when we get home?”

“Fine, but I'm not going to sit around like a hothouse flower while others wait on me.”

“Understood.”

“Good.”

She was the most driven, unbelievable woman he'd ever met. “Would you like more wine?”

“Yes, please.”

He poured more into her glass. She could also hold her spirits, he noted. They'd consumed most of the bottle he'd had brought in with their meal, but then her roots were Spanish, too, and she had probably been drinking wine as a matter of course her entire life, just as he had. He raised his glass to her. “To the future.”

She lifted hers in response. “To the future.”

Dusk was falling and the wind could be heard in the trees. “Would you like to take your wine outside? We could sit for a while before bed.”

“I'd enjoy that.”

They stood, but instead of moving to the door, he held his position before her and she found herself captured once more by his commanding presence. All evening, she'd managed to set aside the heat being with him caused, and now that they were alone in the close confines of the room, her gaze quickly fled lest her desire resurrect the woman she couldn't control.

“What's wrong?”

She debated telling him the truth. She didn't wish to be laughed at or thought weak or evoke any other reaction from him that might make her feel silly or naïve by revealing her inner feelings, but she desperately wanted to go back to being who she'd been before he entered her life. “Since I was a little girl, my father and grandfather instilled in me the importance of discipline, and those lessons have served me well throughout my life. It helped me be an efficient thief and gave me the strength I needed to be with the Mambi Army. Now?”

He gave her a ghost of a smile.

“This isn't funny.”

“I'm not laughing at you,
querida,
just watching you fight against something there's no known antidote for.”

Certain he had no idea what she was referencing, she challenged, “And that is what?”

“Desire. Passion. Need. Want. Whatever you wish to call it.”

“How could you possibly know that's what I'm feeling?”

“Weren't you the woman on my lap at the beach?”

Not wishing to answer, she said instead, “I shouldn't be wanting you to . . .” Her words faded.

“Wanting me to what?” he coaxed gently.

She faltered for a moment, then plunged ahead. “Kiss me—or touch me.”

“Why not?”

Her mind scrambled for a reply. “Because it can't be proper.”

“No one can judge what's proper between a wife and her husband except the man and woman involved.”

“Then how does one make it cease or go away, for saints' sake?”

“You can't. I mean there are ways to attain temporary relief but once it settles in there's no way to make it cease permanently.”

He used the tip of his finger to draw a soft line down her cheek. “As your husband I find your desire very thrilling, Pilar, there's nothing wrong with it. No man wants a wife who responds like a rock.”

“I don't like feeling rudderless.”

“If it's any consolation you play havoc with my rudder as well.”

Once again she had no way of measuring the truthfulness of his words.

“Do you want me to offer you a measure of relief?”

Pilar sensed that agreeing would change her life but the alternative was to walk around with this unquenched heat inside herself and being ruled by it. “Yes,” she replied firmly.

“My fearless warrior queen.” He placed his lips against her brow. “All right, relief it shall be, but it may make things worse—just so you'll know.”

Her eyes narrowed.

His smile was indulgent as he loosely draped his arms around her waist.

“You're teasing me,” she stated.

“No, Pilar. I am not.” He kissed her gently, letting her become accustomed to him once again, then eased her closer when the intensity rose to ensnare them both.

“I want to have our wedding night,” she stated, whispered while she fought to hold on to herself.

“Do you?” he husked out against her ear and trailed his kisses down the edge of her throat.

“Yes.” She wanted to
know.

“Are you certain?” He nibbled her bottom lip, then teased it with the tip of his tongue.

She trembled in response. “Yes.”

And soon, because he was so skillful and masterful, Pilar was without rudder or anything else to guide her course. His kisses became her stars, his warm exploring hands her sails. Her sighs were soft as moonlight and her heightened senses roiled like storm-tossed seas. While the current of desire threatened to sweep her away, he anchored her, steered her, and splendidly showed her just how powerful a son of the Haitian goddess
Yemaya
—the mother of all waters—could be.