The Christmas Treasure (9 page)

The heady mixture of silky skin and iron-like muscle pulsing with life under her hands made her breath catch.
 

"Rilla, be careful," he whispered hoarsely.
 

"I'm tired of being careful, Gabriel. I'm tired of pretending that I am a wife. Please, either make me your wife or send me away."
 

He closed his eyes and his lips compressed into a thin line. He took a long breath.
 

Lorilla waited, feeling the strong, fast beat of his heart under her hands. Her own heartbeat sped up, keeping time with his.
 

Then, with a low growl from deep in his throat, Gabriel grasped her upper arms. Her hands went to his shoulders as he slid his warm hands down her back. He pulled her against him, and she went willingly, molding her nearly naked body to his, fighting for breath. Just his touch already had her panting.
 

He lowered his head and Lorilla met his kiss. The incredible feeling was there. His mouth moved over hers, his tongue searching, seeking. Lorilla opened her mouth under his tender assault and met his tongue with hers. The intimate touch sent a thrilling shock through her.
 

Gabriel cradled her head in one hand and kissed her deeply, thoroughly, thrusting with his tongue and then he lifted his head and looked her in the eye. "The first time is not pleasant for a virgin, Rilla. You may hate me."
 

Lorilla's mouth felt swollen with desire. Her eyelids felt heavy. She could not explain how she knew, but she felt like a woman. "I think I can bear it," she murmured, and reached for his mouth again with hers.
 

Gabriel swept her into his arms and carried her out of his office and up the stairs to the bedroom. Lorilla snuggled into the shelter of his arms and allowed herself to just feel. Whatever happened in the future, tonight was hers. She was determined to prove Gabriel wrong. She would enjoy this first time.
 

Gabriel lay her down on the bed, then quickly stripped. When Lorilla saw him, lit by the moonlight and the dozens of candles Josepha must have lit, she gasped aloud. His bronzed body was more magnificent than she remembered.  She took in his broad, powerful chest, his narrow waist, the faint line that spoke of hours shirtless in the sun, then below, the evidence of his desire, nestled in a thatch of dark hair.
 

He lay down beside her on the bed and pulled her to him, to lie along his hard length. Lorilla stretched languidly, her limbs supple with desire, her heart pounding with anticipation. Something began deep within her as Gabriel kissed her again. Something that thrilled her to her very core, something that made her want to open up, like a flower opens to the sun.
 

Suddenly, unexpectedly, the nun's description of flowers and gardens made sense. Lorilla laughed softly.
 

Gabriel's eyes darted to hers. "Something amuses you?"
 

She shook her head. "You won't understand, but something the nuns used to tell me just became clear."
 

"Oh?" Gabriel seemed stunned. His hand, which had been teasing her breasts, stilled. "Would you care to explain it to me?"
 

"I'm not sure I can," she whispered, letting her fingers trail through the hair on his chest. "But the sisters tried to explain about…this, using flowers as examples. And I…" she shrugged, "I just realized that I finally understand."
 

"Ah, yes," he said, dipping his head to take the point of one breast in his mouth.
 

Lorilla gasped with pleasure.
 

Then he flattened his palm against her abdomen and began to caress her, moving his hand slowly downward until his fingers curled against her. "It is like a flower,
chiquita
," he whispered as his fingers worked magic on her body.  "There are petals," he said, while his fingers demonstrated and Lorilla's body arched against his hand.
 

She couldn't stand it if he didn't do something, but he was determined to be slow. She put her hand over his, not  even knowing what she wanted to guide him to do but knowing if she didn't move, she would explode.
 

"But, it takes time for the flower to fully realize its potential." He nipped at her other breast, while his fingers continued their magical exploration. "There are more petals which should open," he said.
 

His fingers moved more intimately, and her body strained toward some release that she hoped he would soon bring. "And at last," he whispered, moving so his lips were against her ear, "the sun is able to penetrate to the core of the flower."
 

"Gabriel!" she exclaimed as his fingers dipped into her. She felt liquid, flowing, as if she were honey dripping from a beehive.
 

"The flower is ready now," he muttered raggedly, "to accept the sun…"
 

His words faded as he lifted himself over her. He stared at her, a question in his eyes.
 

Lorilla could hardly breathe. Her entire body felt poised on the brink of incredible ecstasy. All she could do was meet his eyes and nod.
 

When she did, Gabriel shut his eyes for a brief instant, then looked at her. His hard manhood probed the entrance to her body. She clutched at his shoulders and strained upward to meet him.
 

Gabriel thrust, then Lorilla felt him meet the barrier and stop.
 

"Please," she begged, her body tense and throbbing. "Gabriel, please!"
 

He pushed, and for an instant, there was pain.
 

She gasped.
 

"Rilla?"
 

"Please. Now."
 

His eyes flashed with blue flame and he began a rhythmic motion, slowly in, slowly out, then in again.
 

"Gabriel!" Lorilla couldn't believe the feelings. Each time he pressed into her, each time he pulled away from her, she met him with an answering move. It was as if they danced, in perfect harmony. As if the world and all its pleasure had been designed for them alone.
 

Gabriel groaned, then he kissed her as his thrusts quickened. Suddenly something happened, and Lorilla felt again as if she would explode.
 

Gabriel stiffened, then thrust deeply, and she did explode.
 

She cried.
 

Gabriel buried his face in the hollow of her shoulder and shuddered.
 

Slowly, she relaxed, as Gabriel's hot, rapid breaths warmed her neck. She caressed his hair, running her fingers through it, lifting it off his neck where it was damp with sweat. Her heart felt full to bursting. So this was love. Or at least lovemaking. No wonder people married. To have someone with which to share this kind of intimacy would be the closest thing to heaven on earth.
 

An echo of the thrilling explosion rippled through her. Gabriel raised his head and looked at her, his eyes smoky with satisfaction. "Rilla? Are you all right?"
 

"Mmm," was all she could manage, but she kissed him softly, languidly, and ran her tongue across his cheek.
 

He chuckled, and she felt his chest rumble. She placed her palm against his cheek and turned his head so she could see his face. The hard line of his jaw was soft, his mouth was relaxed and smiling. She touched his lips with her fingers. This laugh she could learn to love.
 

He rolled away from her then pulled her to lie against him.
 

"So that's what all the fuss was about," she murmured.
 

"Yes. Are you sure you're all right?"
 

"I'm fine, Gabriel. Was I not um, satisfactory?"
 

"Senora Beltran, you were more than, 'um, satisfactory.'"
 

He kissed her temple, then relaxed. Lorilla let her head rest on his shoulder and went to sleep with his arm around her.
 

Deep in the night, she awoke to find his hands and mouth working their magic on her again. She responded, just as she had the first time, and the result was just as satisfying, although this mating was lazy, tender and easy. Again, Gabriel pulled her to him and fell asleep holding her.
 

Gabriel awoke at dawn, to find Lorilla asleep at his side. She was turned slightly away from him, and her hair was caught under his shoulder. He carefully extricated himself from her tangled red hair and got up.
 

He walked to the window to look out at the rising sun. Then he turned around to study his new wife. It mystified him that he was so taken by her. She was untutored, unsophisticated, not at all what he had expected. Worse, she might turn out to be barren and therefore of no use to his plans for an heir. Still, he was drawn to her. He shook his head.
 

Except for her red hair, there was nothing remarkable about her. Well, except for her eyes. He raised one brow and gazed dispassionately at her. The tangled covers did little to conceal her body from his eyes. She had small, round breasts, easily engulfed by his hand, and she was tall and long-legged, too thin for his taste. Still, merely the sight of her had him growing hard again.
 

As his body responded, he frowned. It wouldn't do to become infatuated with her. He still had to decide what to do with her. On the one hand, he had married her in front of the entire town of Santa Fe, and he would be thought a  brute if he turned her out. On the other hand, she was a virgin--had been a virgin until last night, so nothing but time would tell if she could bear him a son.
 

The idea that her stepfather had duped him infuriated him. It would serve the snake right if Gabriel were to travel to St. Louis and demand his money back. Something Lorilla said came rushing back to him. When he'd asked her why she had believed her stepfather's lies, she had told him it was because she'd wanted so badly for it to be true.
 

Compassion welled up inside him, but he pushed it away, back down deep where he couldn't feel it. He would get a son from her, but he would not be drawn into caring for her. Narrowing his eyes, he assessed her as if she were a mare, up for sale. She looked capable of handling childbirth. Her hips were not wide, but neither were they narrow.  The bands of sleek muscles he'd felt under her delicately colored skin spoke of good health.
 

Perhaps if he were very lucky, this one would not die in childbirth, like his wife and his mother. His mood thoroughly spoiled, Gabriel threw on some clothes and left the room. He walked outside to his family's gravesite.
 

Someone, he supposed Josepha, had put flowers on the graves. He paid obeisance to his parents and to his unborn son, then knelt by Elena's grave.
 

"Elena, I suppose I am well on the way to producing a son, if my ill-gotten wife does not prove to be barren. Please forgive me for what I did last night, and will do again, and again, until I am sure I have sown my seed. I would have a son,
mi paloma
. I am selfish enough to want to pass on my name. You do understand that, don't you?" He touched the cold gravestone, then walked away, his thoughts in turmoil, his body already yearning for Lorilla again before he was out of sight of his dead wife's grave.
 

h

CHAPTER EIGHT

Lorilla rose late the next morning to find Gabriel already gone. She stretched languidly and winced at the soreness between her legs. Just the thought of what had happened last night quickened her breath and caused her insides to tingle with remembered desire.
 

Wrapping herself in a sheet, she rummaged through the bedclothes, looking for the satin gown. Then she spotted it across the room below the window, where Gabriel must have thrown it. A liquid thrill ran through her, turning her knees to jelly. She picked up the gown just as Josepha entered with her coffee and bread.
 

Her face flaming, Lorilla straightened, clutching the sheet to her breast with one hand and holding the discarded gown with the other.
 

Josepha beamed at her. "Buenos tardes, Senora. I trust you slept poorly, if at all."
 

Lorilla's face burned hotter. "Josepha! You really shouldn't talk that way." Stepping warily around the trailing ends of the sheet, Lorilla crossed back to the bed. "And, I don't want breakfast in bed every morning."
 

Josepha looked at Lorilla, her face betraying amusement and a woman's understanding. "Si, Senora," she said, nodding. "I understand. I no want anyone disturbing my marriage chamber either."
 

"That's not the point," Lorilla protested, trying without success to keep a small smile from turning her lips upward. "I want to come downstairs for breakfast. I'm not going to spend the day in my room."
 

"So, you are all right?" Josepha handed Lorilla a cup of coffee.
 

Sipping the hot, sweet drink, Lorilla nodded, then smiled up at Josepha. "You were right. Gabriel did not ask about the negligee. He did not even look at it."
 

Josepha laughed. "Ah, so now we can begin watching for signs, eh?"
 

"Signs?"
 

"Si, of
enceinte
."
 

Lorilla's eyes widened. "Oh, Josepha. You don't suppose --"
 

"No, no," Josepha shook her head. "Sometimes it happens so soon, but not usually. Do not worry. I believe Gabriel will not neglect his new wife now that he has made you his." Josepha turned to go. "You come downstairs to breakfast, if you wish."
 

"What time does Gabriel eat?"
 

"Ah, that one. Most mornings he is gone even before I am up. Many mornings he starts the day by visiting --" Josepha cut off her words, and ducked her head. "I have forgotten something in the oven, Senora. Pardon."