Sun God (19 page)

Freshly shaven, his long, raven hair secured at the back of his neck with a narrow leather string, he nodded to her as if he saw her every morning of his life. His casual indifference after such a night of shameful intimacy was too much for Amy.

He came and stood beside the bed, smiled coldly, and said, “Don’t look so troubled, Mrs. Parnell. Last night meant nothing to me. I was only amusing myself.”

Hurt and heartsick, Amy recognized the stinging words she had once used to dismiss him. He had come to pay her back. That’s all last night had meant to him.

Her innate spirit rose and she scrambled up from the bed to face him. Standing before him, clutching tightly at the covering sheet, she shouted angrily, “Fine! You got what you came back here for, El Capitán, now get out! Leave Orilla. Get off my land!”

Luiz gave her an amused smile. “Your land?
Our
land,
chica.
Orilla is owned jointly by me.” The smile left; his handsome face hardened and his black eyes turned wintry cold. “I am tired. My troops are tired. Orilla will serve as my headquarters until our return to battle.” He turned to leave. At the door he paused, pivoted to face her, and added, “As long as I occupy this hacienda, you will share my bed.”

A
MY WATCHED THE DOOR
close after his departing back and felt her anger blaze as white-hot as her passions had burned in the darkness of the night. Trembling with rage, she looked about for something to throw at the door.

Her eyes fell on the Sun Stone lying on the night table. Her face set, she released her hold on the covering sheet and allowed it to fall to the beige carpet. Naked, she snatched up the shiny gold medallion. Tears of frustration filling her angry blue eyes, she hurled the Sun Stone across the room with all her strength.

“You forgot your precious amulet, you savage bastard!” she shouted hotly, then immediately choked in startled surprise.

At the exact instant she released the medallion, her bedroom door opened and an unsmiling El Capitán stood framed in the portal. His right hand shot out with swift dexterity and plucked the flying Sun Stone from midair.

His narrowed black eyes locked on her, he calmly closed the door and unhurriedly crossed to her. Tensed, her pulses pounding, Amy blinked back the tears and watched as he slowly bore down on her. Suddenly all too aware of her own nakedness, she sank to her knees to retrieve her discarded sheet. And winced loudly when his foot came down squarely atop it. Jerking vainly at the pinned sheet, Amy glared at the polished brown boot carelessly resting atop the ivory silk.

Her intolerant gaze slid up the long, lean leg. Sinewy muscles bunched and stretched the fine beige fabric of his tight trousers and Amy, swallowing, felt another emotion mix with her anger. Resolved that she’d not be affected by this cold man’s raw masculinity, she quickly lifted her eyes to his face. She felt a stirring of fear push aside her anger and her attraction to him.

El Capitán appeared irate and dangerous.

The high, slanting line of his cheekbones seemed more pronounced than ever, the chiseled cleft in his chin somehow menacing. His mouth, chilly and closed, was lifted at one end into something not quite a smile, not quite a sneer. His chin was held level in a pose of remarkably frank arrogance.

Amy gasped when he reached down, wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, and drew her to her feet. She tried to pull free. He refused to let her go. He forced her close against him, raised his hand up in front of her, and opened it.

The gold Sun Stone rested atop his palm. The heavy chain was laced through his long, dark fingers. He dropped the medallion and let it swing back and forth before Amy’s taut face.

There was about him a frightening quality of coldbloodedness when he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “Perhaps to you I am a barbarian. A crude savage. You find the beliefs and customs of my people worthy only of your ridicule.” His restraining hand moved from her upper arm, slid almost caressingly up beneath her hair, and clasped the back of her neck. “The Sun Stone is sacred. You will touch it only when I give you permission. Understood?”

Amy said nothing.

Luiz’s strong fingers tightened on her neck. “I said do you understand me?”

“Y-yes. Yes, I understand you,” she replied grudgingly, unsure of what might come next.

“See that you don’t forget,” he cautioned levelly.

With that El Capitán lifted the chain, draped it over his dark head, and allowed the gleaming medallion to fall around his neck. He then ordered Amy to unbutton his white shirt, place the Sun Stone inside, and rebutton the shirt.

In silence, she obeyed, hating him, fearing him. Her fingers shaking, she worked at the buttons of the freshly laundered shirt. It parted down his dark chest to reveal the long red claw marks her sharp nails had left on him. Staring at the vicious-looking red welts, Amy caught her breath.

She heard him say, “I’ve teeth marks on my shoulder. Would you care to examine those as well?”

Amy shook her head, started to place the medallion inside his shirt, and hesitated. Her eyes lifted to meet his. He nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Parnell. You may touch the Sun Stone. You have my permission.”

Amy’s fingers closed around the medallion. She slid it inside the open shirt, onto the warm, bare flesh directly over his heart. She quickly rebuttoned his shirt, anxious to have him gone and to put on her clothes.

El Capitán thanked her. He reached out, picked up the razor-sharp obsidian knife from the night table, and held it out to her. “If you must throw something at me, may I suggest this.” Amy stubbornly refused to take the knife. He took her hand, placed the knife’s shiny handle in her palm, and wrapped her icy fingers around it.

He stood insolently before her, his arms at his sides, silently inviting her to stab him if she dared. Amy was tempted to do just that. Her chin lifted, her delicate jaw hardened. Her eyes flashed with rage and excitement. Her stiff fingers tightened on the knife’s slick hilt as she contemplated how rewarding it would feel to swiftly plunge the deadly blade into him.

Recklessly she said, “Were I as uncivilized as you, I would do it.” She lifted the knife, touched its point to the left side of his chest, and added, “Correct me if I’m mistaken. Didn’t your people—the barbaric Aztec—use just such a knife to carve out the beating hearts of their helpless victims?”

Luiz showed no emotion. “That’s true. But then you, my naked Jezebel, need no knife. You cut out the beating hearts of your victims with far deadlier weapons.” His black eyes held a dangerous light as they slid accusingly down Amy’s bare, seductive curves. Suddenly he smiled and added, “A heart can be cut out but once. So I am in no danger.”

Ignoring the knife point still pressed directly to his heart, El Capitán leaned close and brushed a kiss to the side of Amy’s throat, inhaled deeply, and said casually, “I’ve had water drawn. You need a bath, Mrs. Parnell. You smell of me.”

He turned and confidently walked away while Amy stood fuming, the knife in her hand, her gaze on his cock-sure back. Eyes ablaze, she lifted the knife high, but didn’t throw it. Sighing, she allowed him to leave unharmed, then carefully placed the knife back atop the table beside his gold and turquoise bracelet.

Her nerves raw, her body spent, Amy felt the hot tears sliding down her cheeks as she rushed across the room, threw the bolt lock, and turned to sag wearily against the heavy door. Almost frantically she pushed away and hurried toward her big bathroom, anxious to cleanse his scent and his touch from her flesh.

Once in the hot, soapy water, Amy vigorously scrubbed herself. A bar of jasmine soap in one hand, an abrasive washcloth in the other, she rubbed and washed and scoured until her skin was pink and tender. Just when she felt certain she was as clean as she’d ever been in her life, another lewd picture of last night’s indulgence flashed through her mind and she began scrubbing once more.

When she felt as if she were in danger of scraping away all her skin, Amy rose and stepped from the ivory marble tub. She reached for a towel and, catching sight of herself in the mirrored bathroom walls, flushed, recalling El Capitán’s arrogant promise that he intended to make love to her in this mirrored room so that he might watch. She too, could watch. She frantically snatched the huge white towel from the rack and swirled it around her body to cover her nakedness.

She could think of nothing more disgusting than to watch herself make love in a mirror! Especially with a cold-hearted, hot-blooded lover who was more animal than man. The prospect of participating in such an indecent act was revolting. Not in a million years would she do something so sordid and depraved!

Amy hurriedly dressed then found she didn’t want to go downstairs. Reluctant to risk running into El Capitán, she remained in her room, pacing.

She was miserable. And confused. All she had ever dreamed of, longed for, hoped would happen, had finally come to pass. Her beloved Tonatiuh was alive! He had come home to Orilla after all these years. Yet sadly, ironically, his unexpected return had made her more unhappy than his sudden disappearance.

Sighing, Amy stood before the open french doors. Her sad blue eyes scanned the sea of soldiers beyond the yard, searching for that one coldly handsome bronzed face amid all the others. She found it.

El Capitán stood lounging against his big black stallion, a long arm thrown over the creature’s saddled back. His blue-black hair glistened in the morning sunlight. Leaning down to listen to an amusing story told by one of his men, his dark face broke into an appealingly boyish grin. Amy felt a painful squeezing of her heart.

She felt so terribly guilty. There was not one, but two reasons for her overwhelming guilt. First, she was the one responsible for Tonatiuh—the sweet, gentle Indian boy she had known and loved—becoming the cruel, uncaring creature he now was. Second, by giving in to the sexually compelling officer last night, she had betrayed her fiancé, Douglas Crawford.

Amy was overcome with remorse. No kinder, gentler human being lived than Doug Crawford. No man had ever been as protective, as understanding as he. His big heart would be broken if he knew that while he was soldiering with Maximilian deep in the interior of Mexico—fighting so he could make enough money to take care of
her
—she was making profane love to a man who had no more regard for her than if she were one of the whores so favored by her late husband, Tyler Parnell.

Her gaze fixed on the tall, lean officer, Amy watched as Luiz swung up into the saddle and rode away alone. She stared until he and the big black were no more than a speck on the horizon. Only then did she draw a long, relaxing breath, turn, and go back inside.

Despite the fact her tormentor had ridden away, Amy, after unbolting the door, peered cautiously up and down the long corridor before stepping outside. Taking a few more calming breaths, she lifted the skirts of her pink-and-white striped cotton dress and moved toward the stairs.

Descending the wide staircase, Amy wondered just how much she should tell Magdelena. She was tempted to fling herself into the older woman’s comforting arms and cry out her despair. To tell of the long, terrible night she had spent at the mercy of the vindictive El Capitán Quintano.

She knew she couldn’t do that.

She had been raised by a proud father to keep her personal troubles from the servants. As close as she was to Magdelena, she had never—not once—told the trustworthy Mexican woman exactly what had happened all those years ago.

Only that there had been trouble and the Sullivan brothers had sent Luiz away. She herself had sworn she was happy to become the bride of Tyler Parnell. She’d gone on with the pretense of being the contented young wife, never revealing to anyone that she was unhappy. That her young heart was broken. That never a day, an hour, a minute passed that she did not wonder if her beloved Tonatiuh was dead or alive. Nor did she ever divulge that her husband spent more of his nights with other women than he ever spent with her, and that she was relieved he did.

At the base of the stairs, Amy squared her slender shoulders.

No, she wouldn’t tell Magdelena about last night, but surely the older woman would know. El Capitán had bragged about moving Magdelena and Fernando to the east wing saying that the two of them had the west wing all to themselves for the night.

Magdelena was a smart, intuitive woman. She would put two and two together and her motherly instincts would make her want to intervene on Amy’s behalf.

Amy felt a little better.

Magdelena would protect her from the evil El Capitán. There would be no more nights like the one past. Her Magdelena wouldn’t allow it.

Amy found Magdelena in the kitchen. She was carefully slicing fresh fruit and artfully arranging it on a china platter. As she worked, she sang a beautiful Spanish love song. She looked up and smiled broadly when Amy entered. Amy couldn’t believe her ears when the older woman dropped what she was doing, put her hands on her spreading hips, and said, “You mean to wear that dress today?”

Amy frowned. “I have it on. Of course I plan to wear it.”

“No, no, Amy. Is not the right one for this special day.” Magdelena wiped her hands on her apron and came forward. “Come. We go back up and find something more suitable.”

“More suitable for what?”

Magdelena’s dark eyes sparkled.

“For sharing lunch with the handsome El Capitán Quintano!”

F
OR SHARING LUNCH WITH
… I have no intention of having lunch with this arrogant Mexican officer,” Amy said firmly.

“Such foolish talk, Amy Sullivan Parnell. We do not speak of some stranger.
Dios
, Luiz is the sweet, pretty little boy who once live here. This is his home!”

“That sweet, pretty little boy is a cold, disrespectful man who last night—” Amy caught herself and her words trailed off. Frowning, she gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

Puzzled, Magdelena stared at her. “He do what to you? Spend some time with old childhood friend. This is a crime? I do not understand you. You are the one who has changed, not Luiz.” She shook her head back and forth. “Times like this, I do not know you.”