Return to Paradise (Torres Family Saga) (27 page)

      
Elzoro waved his hand negligently. “Nay. Tis of no import. I have dozens more. Does your father know you are here?”

      
“The
virreina
has been so kind as to offer us hospitality until he is notified,” Rigo replied, wondering what Elzoro's reaction to the Colon name would be.

      
“Ah, yes, our illustrious viceroy-in-absentia's lady. You said 'us'—have you family with you from Spain?”

      
“Only my wife and she is French.”

      
“A Spanish soldier wed to a Frenchwoman. How extraordinary. I shall look forward to meeting her one day soon.” With that he remounted the gray and disappeared into the thickening jungle without a backward glance.

      
As he rode back to town, Rigo replayed the scene in his mind, wondering if the dog had been deliberately set on him. It would have been simple enough to catch his scent when he stopped in the plaza, perhaps even to pilfer some small item he touched in the marketplace.

      
Esteban Elzoro was his father's friend, a fellow planter who used war hounds to kill runaway slaves. Such ruthless men would think nothing of having him murdered by that means. He brooded over the safety of Miriam if he left her with the Torres family. Surely they would welcome Benjamin's former betrothed, one of their faith and blood.
But tainted by your touch
. The jungle seemed to mock him.

* * * *

      
Miriam felt surprisingly refreshed by her rest. While the servants filled the tub with hot water, she stood by the arched windows, gazing out at the river. Maria had sent a sweet girl of mixed blood named Rosa to help her with her toilette. Miriam sank gratefully into the water and allowed the maid to wash her hair with an exotic, sweet-smelling fruit soap. After her hair was rinsed and wrapped in a towel, she dismissed the girl. “Please, that will be all. I wish to soak for a while. The salt from shipboard bathing seems to have sunk into my very bones. I will ring for you to dress me later.”

      
Closing her eyes, she lay her head back on the tub's rim and tried to relax. Rigo had been gone for hours. Thoughts of him, his sinuous, swarthy body entwined with that of a sleek, beautiful prostitute, came unbidden. “He does not want me, only his child. What shall I do?” She placed her hands on her rounded belly as if the babe within could answer her anguished question. Sighing, she rose from the tub carefully and reached for a length of towel.

      
Rigo entered the room silently and stood transfixed, watching his wife's tall, slender body bathed in the afternoon's soft golden light. The swell of her belly and fullness of her breasts made her figure lushly enticing. She finished toweling her body, then loosed the glory of her hair from its turban and began to rub it dry until it shone like polished bronze. He ached with wanting her.

      
Why not? There was time before the evening meal and he had bathed and changed his shredded, filthy clothes belowstairs so as not to frighten her. Suddenly, as if sensing his presence, she turned toward him, using the towel as a pitiful shield for her nakedness. Her hair fell like a mantle about her shoulders, but the linen could cover only her belly and thighs. Long, slim legs stretched beneath the toweling. He followed their shapely curves to her delicate ankles, then retraced the enticing contours back up to her face, now flaming.

      
“The towel is inadequate to cover your bounty. I would see all of you. Remove it,” he whispered hoarsely as he began to shed his doublet, tossing it on a chair. He stalked closer.

      
Miriam backed up a step, then realized how foolish it was. “You startled me. How long have you been watching?”

      
A slight smile curved his lips. “Long enough,” he replied as he reached for the towel and threw it atop his doublet.

      
“I am misshapen and would not have you look on me this way, Rigo.” She forced herself to stand erect even though it caused her swollen breasts and belly to protrude more.

      
“I do not find you in any way deficient. When first I met you, you caviled about your thinness. Now you think yourself fat.”

      
“You have remedied the former complaint with great ease,” she snapped.

      
The smile erased itself from his face. “With great pleasure—a pleasure you formerly shared with me—or was it all a sham, Miriam?”

      
Her face flamed as she met his harsh, mocking expression. “Will you leave me no pride, no honor, nothing?”

      
“Ah yes, you are a lady, born to a great house—entitled by the purity of your blood to have pride and honor. I, of course, being a bastard and a savage, am entitled to none but that which I wrest with my blade.” He reached out and grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her against him. “And now, wife, I choose to use my blade...on you.”

      
Miriam's palms pressed against his sheer linen tunic as he lowered his mouth and kissed her. Her head was immobilized by his hand, tangled in her hair, pulling painfully against her tender scalp. An involuntary whimper of pain escaped from her mouth into his. Immediately, he released his punishing grip on her hair and rained soft, exquisitely tender kisses across her cheeks, brow and temples, then gently lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

      
Miriam lay bemused as he discarded his boots, peeled off his hose and pulled his tunic over his head with one careless yank. Shaking his ebony hair from his face, he looked down at her, desire blazing like the sun on his bronzed face. Silently she sat up and embraced him. He took her in his arms and they sank into the soft mattress, arms and legs entwined, kissing and running their hands greedily over each other's heated flesh.

      
“I would not harm you or the babe,” he murmured as he rolled her atop him. “Take me into you...as much as you can without discomfort.” He lifted her hips and positioned her atop his hard, straining staff. Sweat beaded his upper lip as he held himself under iron control, gazing with narrowed eyes at her heavy, pink-tipped breasts from his vantage point below, fighting the urge to impale her and thrust long and hard up into the sweetness of her flesh.

      
Miriam felt his tortured longing and her body answered his as she sank slowly, experimentally downward, enveloping him in this strange new position. A heady sense of power overcame her as she took all of him inside her, deeply, fully, feeling the involuntary spasm as his hips gently arched. She raised her hips, then lowered them slowly, and the heat grew more intense. She began to move in a steady, even rhythm, resting her weight on her palms, which were buried in the curly black hair of his hard chest. Her breasts hung suspended, aching for his touch.

      
Rigo released her hips and took one rounded globe in each hand, cupping them, then gently squeezing until she made a small incoherent cry and increased the tempo of her ride. The pleasure was pagan, so wild, so tumultuous as she felt the wet, gliding glory of his body buried deeply in her. Her hips lifted, almost freeing him, then lowered, once more imprisoning him.

      
Rigo raised his head and pulled her shoulders lower to suckle on her breasts. She went wild with rapture and felt the dizzying heights of release, soaring, convulsed in awe-filled ecstasy. He arched and stiffened beneath her, spilling his seed high against her heavy womb, adding to the shattering pleasure with a pulsing, sweet afterglow. Miriam collapsed on his chest, snuggling against his hard body while he held her possessively.

      
Slowly, ever so gently, he raised her off him and lay her beside him on the wide bed. He nuzzled her neck with firm, warm lips and then murmured low against her throat, “You are unharmed...and well pleasured, I trust?”

      
It was not really a question. Her cries of release were clearly ones he knew well from many nights of loving. “I am both, Rigo,” she replied simply, then could not resist adding, “I did not know it could be done thus, with the woman above...”

      
He stroked her hair softly. “There are an infinite variety of ways to give and receive pleasure. As long as tis safe for you and the babe, I will show you many new wonders, Miriam.”

      
Her eyes widened in amazed embarrassment. How many ways could there be? “Doubtless a rogue such as you has practiced them all.”

      
“Doubtless,” he echoed. “You will tell me when tis no longer safe for you to make love?”

      
Miriam could sense genuine concern in his voice, and it moved her deeply.
How can he care for me yet wish to leave me and set out for Mexico?
“There is no reason a woman with child who is in good health cannot make love up until the day of her delivery—if her husband can bear the sight of her fat body and possesses ingenuity enough to find ways to couple.” The moment she had added the last words, she wished to call them back. Such bawdy boldness!
Anything to keep him near me for as long as I can!

      
Rigo chuckled and leaned over to kiss the tip of her nose. “I possess infinite ingenuity, wife.” Wife. How natural the word sounded. How wondrous it would be to keep her by his side forever. Like all the dreams of his childhood, surely this one, too, would be taken from him. He slid from the bed and reached out his hand to help her do likewise. “The hour is late and the
virreina
will be holding the evening meal for us.”

      
As they dressed, Rigo mulled over mentioning the attack by Elzoro's hound and his suspicions about Aaron's involvement. He decided against it, reasoning that such would only frighten her. He possessed no real proof, only a lifetime of bitterness to sharpen his instincts.

      
When he turned to her and saw the soft pink samite gown she wore, he suddenly remembered the shell necklace. It was but a trinket, yet it would look so lovely about her slender throat and match the delicate hues of the glistening silken cloth's iridescent sheen.

      
“Tis a strange coincidence you chose that gown, for I have bought you a small gift that would match it.” He dug through the discarded clothes on the chair and extended a small package.

      
Miriam watched as he approached her. If she did not know the arrogant mercenary better, she would have sworn he was actually shy about offering her the gift. Her gray eyes turned a sparkling silver in the evening candlelight as she extended her open palm. “I love surprises, Rigo.”

      
“Tis but a silly trinket I saw in the market. Made by the primitives.” He placed the packet in her hand and then watched as she unwrapped it with an exclamation of delight.

      
“I have never seen its like. What wondrous colors—look you, how the pinks and roses glow in the light. So delicate.”

      
“They are only shells taken from the coast. Your trousseau from Isaac Torres includes precious gems of all hues,” he said gruffly as she held it up about her neck and looked in the mirror at her reflection.

      
“Please, fasten it for me.” When he complied, she asked, “Does it bother you that your father's family dowered me? That my own would not?”

      
“I did not wed you for money, Miriam. Such material and political matches are for the upper classes, not for men like me, who seldom marry at all.”

      
“Then did you wed me out of duty and bring me to your detested family's home only to salve your guilty conscience?” Her fingers flew to her lips the moment she said the words.
I do not want to know the answer. Please, Rigo, please!
She turned from him and fled for the door.

      
His hand pressed against the heavy latch, holding it closed when she tugged at it. “I did wed you because of duty and I brought you to the Indies to offer you a home in exchange for all you lost because of me. Do not ask me to explain it further for I cannot. I have been nothing but confused since I met you. I desire you and I want my child. I could never allow it to grow up as I did—not while there is breath in me.” The words came tumbling out rapidly. As soon as he finished he felt raw and vulnerable, utterly miserable and hopelessly confused. “I have not meant to cause you pain, Miriam.”

      
But do you love me, Rigo?
Of course he would not answer any more than she would ask. He desired her and he felt responsibility for his child. Perhaps in time that might grow into love. “Thank you for the necklace, Rigo. Tis lovely. Now, let us go greet our hostess. We are poor guests to keep her waiting.”

      
When they reached the entry hall a veritable din of children's voices issued from an open door. Miriam peeked into a small, comfortable area with a thick woolen carpet over the beautifully tiled floor. Several large chests were flung open. A mound of toys that littered the rug were being chaotically sorted out and placed in them. Maria stood in the center of the pandemonium and smiled at her guests.

      
“You see what you soon will have to contend with. It grows worse with each addition,” she said with a chuckle as two girls tugged over a carved wooden doll until the elder one wrested the treasure from her sibling. “Juana, let your sister have the doll. Ysabel, go with Juana and see she does not slip from bed again tonight.” She turned to the nurse who was in charge of the brood and issued several more crisp instructions, then stooped to kiss each child before ushering them all off to bed.

      
Miriam felt a tightening in her throat at the obvious maternal pride of the
virreina
. Would she ever have a home filled with children's laughter? “They are wonderful, Dona Maria.”