“Sit down,” she said. “Father Leon says you’re very fond of Maria’s chicken stew. It looks quite wonderful.”
“It is.” Dominic took the seat she’d indicated. “I can remember one night Indino and I rode thirty miles down from the hills because he swore he could smell her cooking it.” His white teeth flashed as he grinned. “It was three o’clock in the morning when we rode into Rosario, and Maria wasn’t pleased when we banged on her door and woke her up.”
“Nonsense. She may have scolded you but she was flattered.” Father Leon’s eyes twinkled. “She still boasts of that night to the other women in the village.”
Elspeth sat down opposite Dominic, watching the expressions change and flicker on his face as one reminiscence led to another. The stew was as good as Dominic had claimed, but she found she had little appetite. She was too absorbed in turning over in her mind the astonishing and frightening idea Father Leon’s words had inspired. Was it possible that she could find a way of tempting Dominic into wanting to stay with her? She was no practiced hetaera, but he had said all women were much the same and perhaps-
“You’re not eating.” Dominic’s gaze was suddenly on her face. It was the first time he had looked at her since he had entered the house and a little quiver of excitement ran through her. “Are you sick?”
“What?” She moistened her lips. “Oh, no, I’m enjoying it very much. It’s just…”-she searched wildly for an excuse-“hot.”
His gaze held her own and she felt the wild color sting her cheeks. What if he had guessed what she had been thinking? She felt suddenly naked and vulnerable, and the words tumbled from her lips. “Don’t you think it’s hot?”
“Yes.” His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and then forced himself to look away from her. “Yes, very hot.” He suddenly stood up, the legs of his chair screeching as he pushed it away from the table. “I think I’ll take a walk before I go to bed.”
Father Leon’s face clouded in disappointment. “Are you not going to join me in a glass of wine?”
“Not tonight.” Dominic tempered the shortness of the refusal with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning before we leave, Father. Good night.”
Father Leon’s gaze moved from Dominic’s face to Elspeth’s and back again. “You are welcome to stay here with your wife tonight. I think you will find the bed I gave her far cleaner than the one at Miguel’s.”
Elspeth held her breath, her hand tightening on the wooden cup.
Dominic didn’t answer for a moment, and she could feel his gaze return to her face. “I don’t doubt it.” His voice was thick. “But I must refuse. I have a few friends I want to see at Miguel’s.”
Women friends? Elspeth wondered, experiencing a wild primitive anger that was a totally new feeling. Jealousy. She wanted to do physical injury to those “friends.” She got hurriedly to her feet. “I believe I’ll get a breath of fresh air before I help Maria clean up.” She passed Dominic without a glance as she headed for the front door. “I’ll be back shortly, Father.”
The evening air was cool on her hot cheeks and she inhaled deeply, breathing in the pungent scent of creosote and chili peppers drying on the rawhide awning of the house next door. Light was streaming through the windows and doors of the small stucco buildings surrounding the square, and she could hear the sound of a guitar echoing through the empty streets from the direction of the cantina. She heard the door close behind her. “It’s much cooler out here, isn’t it?” she asked quickly. “I like Father Leon. It seems impossible that anyone would want to hurt him. He has the-”
“What’s wrong?” Dominic interrupted.
“What could be wrong?” she asked, moving away from him. “It’s quite pleasant here. I’m glad we had the opportunity to stop and sleep in a room with four walls around us.”
“There’s something wrong. I know you well enough now to understand when you’re upset about something.” He hesitated. “Were you afraid I was going to let the priest talk me into sharing your bed?”
Heat rained through her every vein. “No. You had the opportunity to force yourself on me any number of times in the last weeks. What difference would it make if we did share a bed?”
The same difference as the straw that broke the camel’s back, he wanted to tell her. He should never have stopped here, but he had wanted to let her rest. She had been so damn brave and uncomplaining that he had felt guilty as hell at pushing her as he had these last two weeks. Yet how could he explain that if he hadn’t been too exhausted to crave nothing but rest, he would have been within her, his promise forgotten, everything forgotten but the tightness, the heat of her.
He shuddered. Damn, he shouldn’t have let himself remember how sweet she had felt around him. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. I’ll be here to get you right after dawn.”
“No, I’ll meet you at the corral.” He was leaving her. He would cross the square to that cantina, where there would be music and hetaeras and all the pleasures he knew so well. “I can find my way.”
“Whatever you wish. You’d better go back inside now and get to bed.”
Back to Father Leon and the small ascetic room where she would sleep alone tonight. Dominic would not sleep alone. The anger and hurt she was feeling suddenly flared hotly. She had been debating whether to accept Rafael’s gift, but now it was decided. Any man who had the insensitivity to indulge himself with hetaeras while his wife was just across the square did not deserve any consideration. “Good night, Dominic.” The edge to the words was sharp enough to whittle wood.
Dominic hesitated. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Oh, yes, I’m perfectly splendid. Go on to your cantina.” Why had she thought she might appeal to him as those other women did? He couldn’t wait to leave her and go rushing to the eager arms of some black-eyed senorita.
He stood stock-still for a moment, then he shrugged and started across the square.
She watched until Dominic disappeared into the cantina before returning to the house. She carefully banished the look of anger from her face, assuming a cheerful smile as she went in to join Father Leon.
“A mule?” There was a lethal softness to Dominic’s tone. “You actually bought a mule?”
“No, I told you, he was a gift,” Elspeth said. She swung into the saddle of the mare. “I don’t know why you’re upset. He’s much bigger than those poor little burros and should be able to carry a great deal more.”
“Give him back,” Dominic said curtly. “No mules.”
“I can’t give him back. I promised Rafael I would take him with us.”
“Give him back.” Dominic had enunciated every word with deliberate precision.
“You’re being most unreasonable,” she said sweetly. “And behaving atrociously, but I’ll forgive you. I know you must be feeling bad. You look quite ill.”
“I have a headache.”
She nodded solicitously. “You really shouldn’t drink so much. Look at the trouble it’s caused you. The last time you overindulged, you ended up with a bride.” She patted the mare’s neck. “Now, come along and stop arguing. It would be stupid to refuse a valuable gift like Azuquita.”
“Azuquita,” Dominic repeated blankly. “Someone named that monster Little Sugar?”
The mule he was looking at was a good seventeen hands high, black as the bottom of a well, with a face full of sin. A tiny gold loop earring pierced the top of his right ear. Azuquita stared back at Dominic with a blandness that caused the hair on Dominic’s nape to bristle.
“Well, Rafael actually called him Sweetness,” Elspeth said. “Isn’t that a good sign he has a lovely nature? I put the saddlebags on him myself and I found him very gentle.”
“He’s trying to fool you into thinking that. Then when you least expect it, he’ll pounce. I know mules.”
“I’m sure every mule isn’t the same. You’ve merely had an unfortunate experience.”
“We’re not taking that mule.”
The smile on Elspeth’s lips wavered. “Of course we are. Rafael was most upset. Indino gave the mule to Rafael and the child loves Azuquita. But it seems the boy’s father drinks too much.” She inclined her head at Dominic. “You should sympathize with that failing. Anyway, when he overindulges he develops a violent dislike for Azuquita and beats him. He even threatened to shoot the poor mule the next time it annoyed him.”
Dominic smiled sardonically. “I don’t suppose you inquired what Sweetness had done to annoy him?”
“I’m sure it was something trifling. What could the animal have possibly done to deserve slaughter?”
“What indeed.” Dominic said, his gaze on the mule.
Azuquita’s lips suddenly pulled back to reveal yellow-white teeth.
“My God, the damn mule is grinning at me,” Dominic whispered.
