Untamed Fire Read online

The plump woman rushed from the room at the sound of his stern orders. Rafael walked directly to Gaby and grabbed the pan and cloth from her hand, tossing them to the table. The heavy skillet landed with a solid thud.

  Gaby went to take a step backward when he grabbed her arm. “What happened?”

  She looked to where his eyes had settled. They were fixed upon the ugly bruise. She opened her mouth to answer.

  “I’ll have the truth,” he insisted and directed her to a chair to sit. “What happened to your leg?”

  She looked down and grimaced, her skirt having hitched up enough to expose the scrape already starting to turn in color.

  He knelt before her, pushing her skirt aside to examine the abrasion. “Has someone been abusing you?” he asked with deadly calm as his fingers gently examined her knee.

  She winced even though his touch was gentle.

  “I’m sorry. I did not mean to cause you more pain.”

  His words were so gentle and sincere that Gaby couldn’t help but stare at him. Tender one minute, a tyrant the next; sometimes she did not know what to make of him.

  “Who did this to you, querida?”

  She spoke truthfully. “I do not know.”

  His head tilted slightly and his eyes filled with doubt. “Do not cover for someone. I will find out the truth.”

  Her hand moved to cover his and she almost sighed from the warm welcoming feel of him. “I’m telling you the truth. Some were my own carelessness. The others... “ She shrugged. “I thought perhaps it was the children playing foolish games.”

  “How many times has this happened?”

  “Four.”

  “Where else have you been injured?” “My ankle,” she said, slipping her hand from his and moving her leg to show him the now almost-faded bruise.

  Rafael’s fingers brushed the area gently. “That’s only three, Gaby. Where’s the fourth?”

  “I cannot show you,” she said, averting her eyes.

  “Tell me.”

  “My upper thigh, but it doesn’t hurt as much as my arm,” she added quickly.

  Having drawn his attention once again to it, he examined the swollen wound carefully. His fingers skimmed her flesh, barely touching the skin. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  His face was level with hers, since he continued to kneel. He was close, so close she could feel his warm breath against her cheek. “I thought to look after it myself.”

  He guessed her thoughts. “You fear my punishment to the boys for such a mindless trick?”

  She nodded. “They are young—”

  “And stupid,” he finished.

  “They mean no harm.”

  “This is no harm?” he asked, barely controlling his rage as he held her arm up before her.

  “Please, Rafael,” she said without thinking and touched her hand to his shoulder.

  The soft plea knifed through him. That was what he imagined she would say when he made love to her. Please, Rafael. Please . . .

  “I’m sorry,” she amended and reluctantly drew her hand away.

  “I will handle this, and if another incident should occur, you are to tell me of it immediately.”

  “Si,” she said, holding his blue eyes with hers.

  “You will tell me, querida, won’t you?” he asked softly, running his hand down along her waist to her thigh.

  She winced and pulled back when his hand connected with the wound.

  “Show me it,” he demanded.

  “I cannot.”

  His hand slipped down over her skirt then up and under it. “Show me it.”

  She stilled his hand with hers. “It isn’t proper for—”

  “Show me,” he demanded.

  He was so insistent that Gaby felt it best to obey. She feared what he might do if she denied his command. She pulled her skirt up exposing her firm thigh and the sore abrasion.

  Rafael’s brow drew together in a frown. His fingers slid across the tender area, touching yet not touching, following where it dipped down the side near the junction of her legs. He stroked it over and over with the pad of his thumb while his fingers lay cradled between her thighs.

  Gaby felt her skin tingle, and wetness edged the area not far from where his fingers lay.

  He looked at her and watched as he moved his thumb slowly, tenderly inching closer. Her eyes fluttered, her skin felt hot, and he was certain if he moved just an inch more he could slip into her and she’d be moist and ready.

  “You will come to me, Gaby?” he whispered

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes.”

  They both knew it was not the senseless pranks he spoke of, and they both knew she would come to him... eventually.

  ~~~

  Gaby busied herself in the days that followed. She intended to keep her date with Sanchez no matter how many chores Rafael threw her way. She worked hard not only doing the light duties for Dona Maia, but handling the chores of scrubbing, polishing, and waxing. She was tired, but she was on schedule, and she planned to stay that way.

  The Saturday of the mission dance dawned bright and sunny. All the workers were in a festive mood, for this was their dance. Gaby was caught up in the eager anticipation. She hurried to get her duties completed so she could wash her hair and let it dry before Sanchez came for her.

  Rafael found her sitting on the adobe wall near the well. Her long black hair glistened with each stroke of her comb. Her feet were bare and looking freshly scrubbed. She appeared free, happy and... beautiful.

  “Gaby,” he called and she jumped. He walked to where she sat. He stood straight with a rigidness that bordered on a touch of arrogance. “Have you finished polishing the silver?”

  She smiled, having waited for this moment. “Si, Don Rafael, all of it.”

  “You have beaten all the rugs clean?”

  “Like they have never been beaten before.”

  “Scrubbed the tiles?”

  “Till they shined.”

  “Polished the furniture?”

  “Till it sparkled.”

  “Washed the serving linens?”

  She laughed and threw her hands to the heavens. “White as the clouds.”

  “Seen to Mother’s care?”

  “Resting in her room with a stack of books for evening reading.”

  “Taken care of the mending?”

  Gaby stood, nodded her head, and dazzled him with a smile that made his heart thump like a jumping rabbit.

  “I have done all you’ve asked of me. Now I will go to the dance with Sanchez.”

  Her words stated clearly her intentions, and perhaps Rafael could have curbed his jealousy, perhaps he could have allowed her one night of freedom, perhaps... if she hadn’t swayed her hips.

  “Dancing is wonderful.” Gaby swayed her hips. “It ignites a fever in the blood, and one must dance to quench oneself of the burning pleasure.” Then she began to hum a lively tune and with her hands braced on her hips, she danced around Rafael. Her steps were skillful as she brushed closer and closer with each swaying step. Her generous breasts just missed his arms and her skirt tickled his pant legs.

  “Can’t you feel it?” she asked in a husky whisper, then continued humming as she twirled teasingly around him.

  Rafael stood silent. He could feel what she meant and see it. Her breathing grew rapid, her face flushed with heat. He knew if he reached out and touched her she would be hot and pulsating. She was right. Music had a way of stirring the blood, igniting it to a feverish pitch until...

  Jealousy reared its ugly head. The intense emotion flared Rafael’s nostrils and caused him to tense every muscle in his body until they burned with the strain. He closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and tightened his hands into fists at his sides.

  Gaby stilled immediately. She stepped back, fearing she had pushed him too far.

  Rafael opened his eyes, released his clenched fists and spoke calmly. “Have you cleaned my study?”

  If it were not for the scorching anger in
his blue eyes, Gaby would have thought him in control of his emotions. But he wasn’t. He teetered dangerously on the edge, and she spoke with caution, fearing her evening of freedom slipping away. “I am not permitted in your study.”

  “You are permitted now. I wish it cleaned.”

  “I will clean it first thing tomorrow.”

  “I want it done now.”

  “I will rise extra early and clean it,” she offered with a hopeful smile.

  He did not return her pleasantry. “I want it finished tonight.”

  “But it will take me all evening. I was supposed to attend—”

  He didn’t allow her to finish. “If your chores were complete. They are not.”

  Gaby’s tone was harsh. “You don’t want me going to the dance with Sanchez.”

  Rafael stepped forward and grabbed her wrists, locking them tightly in his hands. “That’s right; I don’t want you going with Sanchez. That’s why you will spend the evening cleaning my study.”

  She attempted to pull her hands free. “I must tell Sanchez that I cannot go with him.”

  He released her and pushed her toward the house. “I will tell him. Tend to your duties.”

  “Si, Don Rafael,” she spat. “After all, I am your prisoner.”

  Rafael watched her walk away and whispered, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, querida, I wouldn’t be too sure.”

  Chapter Eight

  Gaby’s anger abated shortly after she began to clean the study. While her hands were busy dusting the many books on the shelves, her mind was busy sorting her feelings. She had wanted to go to the mission dance. She had wanted to dance. She loved music and the way her senses came alive when her body began to sway to the various rhythms. The gay, festive tunes made her feel happy and carefree, the slower tunes made her mellow and relaxed, but it was the heated tunes she enjoyed the most. They caused her blood to race and her body to move as if by magic.

  She had expected to have a good time with Sanchez. He seemed a gentleman, and the women at the hacienda had remarked about his keen dancing abilities. She had looked forward to the evening. She had told herself that over and over. But a tiny thought nagged at the corner of her mind. It wasn’t Sanchez she wanted to dance with or for... it was Rafael.

  She could almost see his tall form outfitted in his black short-waisted jacket and tight-fitting pants, a white shirt opened at his throat, and a wide black sash wrapped around his waist. As usual his black stubborn curl would tickle his forehead and his blue eyes would be warm and focused on her. After they danced, his blue eyes would be ablaze, not with anger... with passion.

  Gaby shivered over her vivid daydreaming. “You have work to do, girl,” she admonished herself. “Get busy.”

  She moved to a lower shelf that looked as though it hadn’t been dusted in years. She removed the heavy volumes, coughing and sneezing from the dust particles that floated up and around her. She reached for another book when an unexpected sneeze overtook her. She dropped it in a rush to cover her nose.

  Envelopes and papers were spread at her feet when she looked down. She gathered them together, preparing to return them to the confines of the book when her eyes caught sight of one envelope. It was addressed to Rafael and was from someone in Spain.

  Gaby glanced around the room. No one was about. The hacienda was quiet, most having gone to the dance. She was alone. Rafael was probably brooding in his room, and the thought made her smile and gave her courage. She opened the one envelope curious as to why he would tuck the letters away in a book or had he forgotten they was there?

  She didn’t know how long she had sat there reading all the letters. She only knew her heart broke with each word she read.

  ~~~

  Calm had returned to Rafael. He had appeased it with three glasses of fine old wine and the satisfying thought that Gaby would not be dancing with Sanchez this evening.

  He had given her several hours to accept his decision and for her anger to wane. He reasoned it was sufficient time and that she should be happy that he had even conceded her this. He wanted to make certain she was now tending to her chore, doing as he ordered, obeying him.

  Rafael stood in the doorway of his study. Several candle lamps were lit, their flickering lights brightening the room. He looked about, but saw no sign of Gaby. The first thought that flashed through his mind was that she had disobeyed him and had gone to the dance. Then he caught sight of the top of her dark hair and felt a surge of relief.

  He walked slowly over to his desk, peering over it to where she sat huddled in the corner. He was about to speak when his eyes locked with the letters she held in her hands; old letters, personal letters, letters that no one had read but him. His anger flared, for suddenly he saw himself vulnerable in her eyes, and the raw emotion cut deep.

  “Put them away.”

  Startled by the low yet strong command, Gaby snapped her head up.

  Rafael clenched his fists at his sides, spying the pity he saw in her dark eyes. “There is nothing of value to steal in this room, but I see your search has been thorough.”

  His words did not wound her this time. Her heart was open and ached for him and what he had suffered. “I did not—”

  He cut her off. “Mean to steal? To intrude? Which is it?”

  She shook her head and warred with the tears that her lashes held back. “Neither, I only meant to understand.”

  “Understand what?” he demanded, walking around the desk to stand in front of her.

  “To understand you.”

  “Me?”

  Gaby nodded. “You have puzzled me.”

  “And you wish to solve the puzzle?”

  “Yes.”

  “And have you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

  She closed her eyes in an attempt to control the tears, but they would not stay locked away. They trickled out with one running down along her cheek before the others could catch up with it.

  The fine line of control to which Rafael held rein snapped. “You had no right to read them, and you have no right to pity me.”

  She ignored his bitter tone. “I don’t pity you. I understand why you feel you must protect those in your care. Why you take your responsibilities so seriously, and why you find life so hard to enjoy.”

  “You don’t understand anything!” he raved.

  Gaby felt his pain and anger. It was bottled up inside him, eating away at him. He needed to release it, to let go, to be free. She wiped at the tears that had fallen and said a silent prayer that she was about to do the right thing. “I don’t? Then tell me, since you are the mighty ranchero who knows everything.”

  “Your tongue is sharp and should be curbed.”

  “It speaks the truth and offers help, but you are too foolish to realize it.”

  Her audaciousness was like a slap in the face, and he lunged for her. His swiftness gave her no time to move, and he grabbed her about the shoulders, hoisting her up off the floor in one swift motion. He planted her in front of him his grip remaining sturdy. “You forget your place, Gaby, and I grow tired of it.”

  She felt sorry for him, unable to face his past, to openly speak of it and rid himself of the demons that tormented him. And so she pushed when she wisely should have held her tongue. “Place? Yes, I forget we all have a place. And duties, we all have them. Tell me, did Anna stay in her place and attend to her wifely duties?”

  “Not another word, Gaby,” he warned.

  “I want to know,” she demanded. “Tell me. Tell me what happened to your wife and son.”

  “No!”

  “Are you afraid?”

  His eyes glazed with fury. His fingers bit into the soft flesh of her shoulders, but she remained silent, waiting. Waiting for him to punish her, or release himself from his hell.

  Rafael let go of her, pushing her away from him. She stumbled back, bracing herself against the bookshelf behind her.

  His voice was calm and in control when he spoke. “You want to
know, querida? I will tell you, and then we will see if there is still pity in your eyes for me.”

  He pulled the chair out from his desk and turned it to face Gaby. He motioned for her to sit on the floor and when she did he sat down in the chair.

  “Anna was sent from Spain to marry me. My father and her father had arranged the marriage. It was a good one, her dowry large, her heritage spotless. She was a dutiful wife, always obeying my commands, never questioning,” he emphasized.

  Gaby couldn’t help but smile and it eased, if only a little, Rafael’s apprehension.

  “She gave me a beautiful son. We named him Ramon, after my father. He was a wonderful baby. He smiled often, rarely cried, and when I held him to me he would look at me with such contentment that I almost cri—”

  He stopped himself, but Gaby could see that he had loved his son deeply, and her heart ached for him.

  “Anna wished to go to a neighboring ranch to visit one day. I had much work to do and refused to go. Needing my men here, I sent only two vaqueros to accompany her and Ramon. Later that day one of my men spotted the thick gray smoke in the distance.

  “I took fifty men with me. We rode hard . . . I was too late. Renegades had attacked the ranch. They are men with no morals, no respect for life. They killed most of the people at the ranch and put a torch to the buildings. I sorted through the dead and wounded, praying Anna and Ramon had somehow miraculously survived. Two of the women had, one had hid, the other... her attack had been brutal, but she lived.”

  He paused a moment and stared straight at Gaby. “I found Anna. She was on the ground behind the smoldering house. She lay naked, face down and curled almost in a ball. Her attack had been vicious, and when they were through they had shot her. One of my vaqueros covered her with a blanket. I went in search of Ramon. I couldn’t find him. I feared the renegades had taken him to trade to the Indians or sell. He was only a year old. He would have been a good trade. While my vaqueros continued the search I returned to my wife’s side. I was angry with myself for not being there to protect them and angry with her for going. I pulled the blanket back and moved her dark hair away from her face—that’s when I saw his tiny finger. She had tried with her last breath to save our son by covering him with her dying body. But the bullet had ripped through her into him. She had attempted to do what I should have done. I should have been there for them even if I had died trying to save them.”