Harlequin Historical April 2017, Box Set 2 of 2 by Lauri Robinson

Author:Lauri Robinson
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781488021329
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2017-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

They had slept apart since the night of the snowstorm. Days passed slowly as the high mountains gave way to a dry, sun-scorched plain. As the company proceeded ever onwards, their quest for warmth had gradually been replaced by a quest for water.

And certainly that was for the best. Benicio had lost his head that night in the cold. He had not anticipated the potency of Tula’s nearness, nor the havoc that her disrobing would wreak upon his mind. Like some lovestruck lad, he had allowed his body’s urges to overmaster him and he was confounded by it.

Even now, as he cleared two separate spaces for their sleeping mats, the thought of Tula’s soft nipple beneath his finger was making his body come awake against his will.

He appalled himself. He knew that she had disrobed in total innocence, only following his lead. Women’s nudity was more acceptable in the West Indies than it was in Spain. Besides, he had not actually seen her breasts at all. He had not even been certain of their nakedness until he had made bold to touch one.

Now he could scarcely think of anything other than that moment. He had never been a pious man, but for the first time in his life he wished there were a church somewhere close. Then he could give his confession and absolve himself of this wretched desire that seemed to flow beneath the solid ground of his plans, threatening to erode them.

She was his partner, not his lover. She was the only person besides Rogelio who had seen the map. He needed to keep himself in her good graces. Stealing her honour beneath a pine-bow shelter was no way to do that—to say nothing of the fealty that he owed Luisa.

At least someone had been able to keep her wits in that moment beneath the blanket. Indeed, Tula deserved much credit for her cleverness, for there was only one thing that could have snapped him out of the fog of his lust: the name of his beloved. Luisa, she had repeated several times, each invocation like a hammer into his gut.

But it had worked. Thank God, it had worked. He remained a gentleman in at least some respects and true to the woman he loved. Tula had made sure of it.

He watched her now, wandering amongst the agaves in the waning light. She appeared to be searching for something, but what? She was well concealed in her dark skirt and matching shawl, though he knew that she had layered her white costume beneath it for warmth. He imagined what it might be like to remove those heavy garments one layer at a time, as if unwrapping some beautiful, forbidden gift.

As if unwrapping treasure.

Diós Santo. What was wrong with him? He was not some dishonourable rogue who went about ravishing island women as the mood struck him. He had read Plato and Aristotle and Cicero, for goodness’ sake. He had pondered history and philosophy and the role of virtue in human affairs.

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