Untamed Fire (32 page)

“Then you better start talking, or your
caution will be thrown to the wind.”

Her expression grew serious and her chin
dropped just enough to show she felt defeated. “I don’t want to be
one of the Galvez twins.”

“It’s only a name,” he said
reassuringly.

“I like my name. I like me.”

“I like you too. A name cannot change
you.”

“
She
already tries to change me, and
no one is even certain who I am.”

“Your life would be easier as the daughter
of the Galvezes,” he said, trying to ease her worries.

She shook her head slowly. “No, it wouldn’t.
I love my people; the ones who struggle every day to survive, who
laugh and sing with gaiety, who accept their friends for who they
are and not by their wealth or importance in the community. We are
different, you and I, Rafael.”

Her truthful words stung his pride. “We are
not different.”

“How can you say that? I am here serving a
punishment due to your power and influence.”

“You are here because laws must be observed.
That is the only way the people can be protected.”

“You never gave me a chance to explain,
never bothered to listen.”

“You had no business taking Bella.”

“My brother was hurt.”

“You should have asked permission.”

“Would you have given it?”

“I would have sent someone to help him.”

“But you would not have gone yourself...
unless it was another ranchero that needed help.”

Rafael opened his mouth to speak, but Gaby
silenced him with her finger to his lips. “Your world is different
from mine, and I do not wish to enter it.”

“Worlds can always merge,” he said
softly.

“That would mean change.”

“You don’t think I can change?”

“Perhaps,” —she shrugged— “with time.”

“We have much time,
querida
,” he
said, running his hand slowly along her thigh.

“No, we don’t have time. The Galvezes plan
to take me away unless I am your intended.”

Rafael’s fingers worked their way beneath
the shirt, pulling it free. He pushed it open, touching her soft
belly. “No one will take you away from me,” he whispered.

Gaby closed her eyes and sighed, content
with his familiar caresses and reassurance.

His fingers relaxed her and when they
playfully squeezed her breast, she almost purred like a contented
kitten.

Rafael’s eyes lingered beneath her left
breast.... it wasn’t there. The birthmark wasn’t there. She wasn’t
Annabelle. He felt a rage, a sudden, horrible rage.

He sprung up. The blanket fell away from
him. He grabbed Gaby around the waist and brought her to him
swiftly and possessively.

“You belong to me. No one,
no one
,
will take you from me.”

His kiss was filled with savage hunger. Gaby
could hardly get her breath. His one hand reached up and gripped a
handful of her hair. He pulled her head back away from his hungry
kisses.

“Tell me you will never leave me,” he
demanded.

“Never would I leave you.”

“Promise,” he insisted adamantly, tightening
his grip on her hair.

“Rafael, you’re hurting me!” she cried.

He pushed her head toward him, her face only
inches from his.

“Promise me.” His lips brushed hers. “God,
querida
, I cannot live without you. Promise me.”

His plea was so painfully sincere that it
stabbed at Gaby’s heart. “I promise,” she whispered.

“Say it again,” he demanded and kissed
her.

“I promise,” she said against his lips.

“Again.”

“I promise.”

“Keep telling me,” he insisted as he laid
her back upon the bed and covered her with the length of him.

Gaby’s words drifted like a steady rhythm on
the warm night air. They rose and fell in pitch with each intimate
touch of Rafael’s lips.

He feasted on her body like a starved man
who might never taste food again. His mouth enjoyed each full, hard
nipple. His tongue savored every inch of her warm flesh.

And when she thought she was at the peak of
her passion, his fingers crawled slowly inside her with skillful
precision, working their magic.

“Rafael,” she whispered urgently.

He leaned over her then, the hot blue of his
eyes scorching her already heated flesh. “Promise me.” His voice
was harsh and tight with control.

“I promise,” she repeated, grabbing his arms
to pull him to her. They were like metal, stiff, hard, and
unmovable.

“Keep telling me.”

“But I want you,” she cried.

“Where do you want me?”

“Inside me,” she said without
hesitation.

“Then promise me,” he demanded. “Promise me
over and over while I bury myself deeper and deeper within
you.”

“I promise.” Her voice rose as he entered
her.

“Don’t stop.”

Gaby continued telling him, her voice
quivering, rising, and falling with each powerful thrust. He drove
deeper and harder as her voice urged him on. It was a powerful
intoxicant with its faint tremor. She told him what he wanted to
hear, needed to hear. She was his now and always. The thought and
her words excited him beyond control. He felt her tighten around
him, squeeze him, promise him to never let go.

They exploded together. Their bodies
trembled, shuddered, and collapsed against each other.

As Rafael felt the last of himself spill
into her, he heard her whispered words. The ones he knew should be
coming from his lips.

“I love you.”

Gaby rose early, before sunrise. The last
few days had been draining leaving her feeling much too tired and
not the least bit hungry especially in the morning, though later in
the day she would sometimes find herself ravenous. And her emotions
were so unpredictable. She felt like screaming one minute and
crying another.

She walked out to the courtyard, sitting on
the low adobe wall to watch the beauty of the sunrise. She wore her
“peasant garb,” as Dona Isabel called it, a brown skirt and white
blouse. The woman constantly threatened Gaby with destroying the
clothes. Gaby constantly stood up to her. An act Dona Isabel
remarked needed correcting immediately.

Gaby disliked the woman immensely. Her
stomach rumbled again and she placed her hand over it. She tried so
hard to deny the obvious. She had kept telling herself for the last
few weeks that she was upset over all that had happened, but she
was no fool. She knew why she was feeling the way she did. She
couldn’t deny it any longer even though she wanted to.

She sighed finally accepting the fact
that... she was pregnant.

Her true identity really didn’t matter now.
All that mattered was that she carried Rafael’s child. She wondered
what he would do when she told him. She didn’t want to tell him,
not just yet. She would wait and see. One thing was certain though,
she had no intention of leaving Los Angeles and her family.

When the sun had almost risen completely,
Gaby joined Lupe in the cookhouse. Her hands were deep in dough
when Rafael entered.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Helping Lupe with breakfast.”

“You are supposed to be getting ready to
join everyone for breakfast.

“I’m not hungry,” she said and punched the
dough.

“I didn’t ask if you were hungry. Now go get
dressed and join us.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“This matter is not negotiable.”

“Very well,” she said and wiped her hands on
her white apron.

Rafael disliked the distress he was causing
her. But until this matter could be settled he had no choice. And
he wasn’t fool enough to believe she would actually obey him.

“You will do as I say, Gaby,” he instructed
sternly and walked from the room.

Gaby appeared for breakfast as directed, but
she was dressed as she was dressed that morning, in peasant
garb.

“Really, Rafael, this is too much,” Dona
Isabel complained. “The girl should at least follow your
orders.”

It was Dona Maria who came to Gaby’s
defense. “Isabel, you can’t expect the girl to change overnight for
our convenience. She is accustomed to a certain way of life.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” she sighed.
“After breakfast, Gaby, I shall begin to teach you the proper
attire and actions for a girl of your breeding.”

Gaby was about to refuse her offer when
Rafael spoke for her.

“That is most generous, Dona Isabel. I’m
sure Gaby would appreciate your expertise in the matter.”

“I should have thought of it sooner. After
all, how could she be expected to know how to behave properly when
she was raised by peons.”

Gaby stood and threw her napkin on the
table. “Since I was raised by
peons,
it is best I eat with
them. She pushed her chair back and stormed from the room, Rafael’s
demand that she return trailing after her.

Rafael’s wrath quickly switched to Dona
Isabel when Gaby didn’t heed his warnings and return. “Dona Isabel,
this is my home. I demand certain things, not only of my servants,
but of my guests as well. One of those things I find important is
respect. If you find you are unable to give it to anyone other than
your own class, then kindly keep your remarks to yourself.”

“Really, Rafael, I must protest your
treatment of my wife,” Don Felipe said, insulted by his
statement.

“You may protest all you like, Felipe. Your
wife will still obey my rules.”

“This is ridiculous. The girl needs to be
taught manners—”

“Padre Pablo has arrived!” The excited shout
cut Felipe off. More voices joined the others. Servants ran from
their chores to greet the priest who had for many years served as
padre at the San Gabriel Mission.

“Finally, some answers,” Rafael said and
stood to go greet the padre.

Padre Pablo was a rotund little man who wore
a perpetual smile. His hair was thick and white and only covered
the back and sides of his head. The top of his head shined like a
polished bowl.

He was blessing all the workers who greeted
him and as Rafael approached him, his smile quickly faded.

“I must speak with you in private,” he said
anxiously and a bit fearfully.

“Do you wish to rest first?” Rafael asked,
surprised by the priest’s apparent urgency.

“No, no, we must speak now.”

Rafael made the necessary introductions,
allowing a few pleasantries to be exchanged before he whisked the
padre away to his study without explanation.

Padre Pablo gratefully accepted the glass of
Madeira offered him and downed the contents in one quick gulp.
Rafael immediately refilled it.

“Is something troubling you, Padre?”

The padre took a moment to wipe his brow
with his handkerchief. “I find I must confess a sin.”

Rafael couldn’t hide his shocked expression.
“Should I summon a priest?”

“No, my son, you will hear my
confession.”

“But I am not a priest.”

“No, but you are the only one that I trust
and that I am certain will be able to help all those involved.”

Rafael sat forward in his chair. “I’m
listening, Padre.”

The padre took another sip of the wine to
fortify himself before he spoke. “When the San Gabriel Mission was
started, it was only me and Padre Manuel. We did all we could to
get it to flourish, but the area and its people were poor. We gave
away all the food we grew and helped clothe those we could. It was
a difficult task. We’d pray every night for help, and when we
finally thought all was lost and the mission would have to be
closed... the twins were delivered to our doorstep.”

He took a deep breath, wiped his brow again,
and continued. “They were so tiny, the baby girls. They were left
in a large basket snuggled together as though inseparable. A note
was found within their blanket. It stated that if the girls were
cared for and protected by the mission through the years, each
month, money would be left for the mission to use as needed. But
the girls were to be tended to, and good loving families found to
raise them—separately. That was also one of the requests.”

The padre shook his head. “The money offered
us was enough to see the mission prosper. The cross that was found
with them was their only heritage. The note said that they were
born of the Galvez family of Spain, but that if anyone discovered
this information it would mean instant death for the baby girls.
Padre Manuel made some discreet inquires of friends in Spain. The
information we received substantiated the note’s accusations.
Someone in Spain wished the girls dead.”

Rafael couldn’t believe what he was being
told. Why? Why would someone want innocent babies killed?

The padre continued. “Padre Manuel and I
felt it was our Christian duty to protect the girls and decided to
follow the instructions in the note. We called in a woman from the
village to care for them while we set about the task of finding
them good homes. The one baby soon took ill. We tried everything to
help her get well, but she was so tiny, so weak. She died. The
woman who cared for her insisted she was doomed from birth. She
babbled about the mark on her small chest. The mark of death she
called it. But it was only a birthmark. I have seen many like
it.”

So Annabelle was dead. Rafael felt only
sorrow for the baby, no regret for what might have been, but he was
puzzled. There still were two girls. How?

“I see you are confused,” the padre said.
“Let me finish and confess my sin. When the one twin died, Padre
Manuel and I became frightened. We thought the person who left the
twins would become angry and take the money or part of the money
away from the mission. And the mission was prospering, helping so
many. It didn’t seem fair. Padre Manuel knew of a woman in the
village who gave birth to a little girl round the same age as the
twins. She was ill and didn’t have long to live. She begged the
padre to find a good home for her daughter, since she had no
family, no husband. This woman was so full of life and her
smile—there was no other like it. And her daughter, she was
beautiful. Padre Manuel lost his heart to her. We didn’t give it a
second thought we replaced the dead child with the woman’s daughter
and kept the one promise we could to her. We retained the girl’s
name... Gabriella.”