Untamed Fire by Donna Fletcher Page B

chores to
see to that day, and if she kept to her schedule she’d finally be
ahead.
    She finished serving and hurried from the
room. She helped Lupe with the breakfast pots and pans and was
drying the last one when Rafael entered.
    “Lupe, my mother wishes to speak with you,”
he said and turned to leave the room. He stopped suddenly, turned
back around, and stared at Gaby. “See to my mother now, Lupe.”
    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