Hotter Than Hell (21 page)

Catalina believed. She saw the black horse when she slept, his glossy neck arched, his eyes shining with invitation. But she never got close enough to climb up on his broad, powerful back. He ran, and though she chased him she never caught him.

In time she almost forgot about the dreams. There was no room for real horses in Bel Air. Catalina went to law school just as Dad wanted. She married an attorney from the top law firm in Los Angeles, a man of ambition and little imagination. Life was busy and successful and very ordinary until she began having the dreams again.

Then it all fell apart.

Catalina O’Roarke, formerly Mrs. Neal Kirkland, Jr., jumped out of the battered Chevy truck, her new boots raising little puffs from the dusty ground. The ranch house was small and rustic, surrounded by empty corrals and a few scrawny cottonwoods. The prairie stretched all the way to the foot of the mountains; the countryside seemed almost desolate, mile upon mile of nothing but sage, chamisa, and open sky.

It was exactly what she wanted.

“Can I do anything else for you, miss?” the aging cowboy asked.

Cat managed a smile. “I’ll be fine, thanks.”

“Then I’ll be headed back to Taos. Turk and Pilar will look after you right and proper.”

He got back into his truck and drove away on the rutted track that passed for a road. Cat picked up her bags and walked to the porch. The boards creaked under her feet. The smell of cooking beans wafted out one of the windows.

She closed her eyes and let the tension drain from her shoulders. “It doesn’t look like much,” Heather had said, “but the place always seems to help me get my head on straight when I can’t take L.A. one minute longer. Just give it a chance.”

Give it a chance. She didn’t have anything to lose.

With a rueful shrug, Cat stepped through the door.

Turk adjusted the buckle under the saddle’s fender and stepped back. “That’ll do ya,” he said. “Perfect fit. And you don’t have to worry about ol’ Kelpie here…he’s the gentlest horse we got. He’s Miss Heather’s favorite.”

Cat shifted in the saddle, already anticipating the sore muscles to come. Seventeen years ago she would have given anything to be where she was now: mounted on a handsome buckskin with the prospect of a long, solitary ride ahead of her.

But she wasn’t thirteen anymore. If she’d had any sense, she would have admitted to Turk that she hadn’t been on a horse in well over a decade. But she didn’t want to admit weakness to any man, even one as inoffensive as Turk. She wanted to be left alone, even if it meant taking a few small risks.

God knew she’d almost forgotten what it was like to take a chance on anything outside the courtroom.

“Like I told you, Mrs. Kirkland—”

“Cat. Call me Cat.”

Turk cleared his throat. “Cat. Like I told you, just stick close to the river gorge and you can’t get lost.

Kelpie knows his way home even in the dark.” He scratched his chin. “Still think you ought to take someone along…”

“I’ll be back by nightfall.” Cat pulled on the reins, turning Kelpie toward the barn door. “Please tell Pilar not to wait dinner for me.”

Turk touched one grizzled hand to the brim of his hat, a faintly worried look on his leathery face. Cat pretended not to see.

She started out along the rutted road and then cut across the plain. The sense of vastness she’d felt when she’d first arrived redoubled. The sky was a landscape in itself. She knew the Rio Grande gorge was nearby, winding its way south from Colorado until it became the broad brown river that bordered Mexico and Texas, but there seemed to be hardly any other landmarks except for the Sangre de Cristo mountains rising sharply from the prairie like skyscrapers built of earth and stone.

For most of the day she let Kelpie wander at will, basking in the late summer sun that warmed her face and shoulders. She stopped for lunch in the shade of an abandoned cabin, listening to the wind rattling in the rabbit-brush while she ate her sandwich. A hawk circled in the sky, but aside from him she was completely alone.

She was glad. A good dose of solitude, even loneliness, was just the cure for what ailed her. No more of Neal’s hypocritical lies. No more strict and unvarying routines. Just a sense of freedom she hadn’t felt since childhood.

By late afternoon she was ready to return to the ranch. Kelpie, looking forward to his ration of hay, broke into a trot as soon as she reined him south. Neither he nor Cat noticed the prairie dog town until his hoof plunged down into an unexpected hole.

He staggered. Cat lurched in the saddle and grabbed at Kelpie’s coarse mane. Immediately she knew the gelding was injured. She dismounted and bent to study his near foreleg.

It didn’t seem to be broken, but Kelpie’s limp told Cat that his fetlock had suffered some damage. He wouldn’t be carrying a rider anytime soon. The only thing Cat could do was lead him home as slowly as possible and hope she didn’t get lost in the dark.

Night fell with surprising swiftness. Cat buttoned her coat against an unexpected chill. Kelpie snorted and bobbed his head.

“I’m sorry, boy,” she murmured. “I should have taken Turk’s advice.” She paused to let Kelpie rest. “It isn’t his fault that I’ve had my fill of the male sex.”

Kelpie lifted his head, ears pricked as if he’d heard a sound that had escaped Cat’s ears.

“You’ll tell me I was stupid to trust him, that I should have seen it coming. All the signs were there.”

She clenched her fists. “He used me, and then when he got what he wanted…”

Kelpie stretched his neck and nickered. Cat cocked her head, listening. The earth vibrated under her feet. A low rumble beat the air. A blast of wind, warmed by the heat of a dozen bodies, swept over Cat an instant before the horses leapt out of the darkness.

They were every color men had named: buckskin and Appaloosa, chestnut and bay, pinto and sorrel, white and gray. Their eyes glittered with starlight; their hooves flashed like dark jewels. Cat’s heart surged into her throat. She clung to Kelpie’s reins and closed her eyes. The herd rushed on, implacable, parting at the last moment to flow around woman and horse in a swift and savage tide.

An incredible feeling claimed Cat’s body. Her breath came in sharp bursts. She flung back her head, surrendering to sensation. Her legs buckled and she dropped to her knees, dizzy and stunned.

“Are you well, señorita ?”

The voice was soft, but it carried through the darkness like a roll of thunder. Cat tried to stand, but her legs refused to obey her commands.

“Hello?” she said, using her courtroom voice. “Who’s there?”

The man seemed to appear little by little, as if the shadows gave him up with only the greatest reluctance. Cat’s first impression was of dark hair and broad shoulders, a lithe and muscular figure that moved with the grace of the horses that had preceded him. He wore the typical uniform of a working cowboy: battered leather boots, scuffed jeans, long-sleeved shirt, sweat-stained Stetson. The jeans fit him like a glove, molding strong thighs and an imposing package.

Cat shivered and looked up. He wasn’t particularly tall. His face was a little too angular to be handsome, but no one could have denied that it was striking. The long, thick hair that trailed from beneath his Stetson was jet-black. His lips were sensuous and slightly curved, his nose a little arched, his eyes…

Oh, his eyes. They welcomed the moonlight like a lover. Pale they were, though she couldn’t make out the color. They stripped Cat naked and left her utterly defenseless.

“Señorita,” he said, touching the brim of his hat. “How may I assist you?”

Cat grabbed Kelpie’s stirrup and pulled herself to her feet, half afraid she might fall without the gelding to support her. The stranger spoke only the simplest of phrases, and yet his faintly accented voice raised goosebumps on her skin.

“It’s nothing,” she said thickly. “My horse…he stepped in a prairie dog hole. I’m taking him back to the ranch.”

“Indeed. Would that be the Blue Moon, señorita ?”

His tone was mild and courteous, but the steadiness of his gaze unnerved her. She tried to calculate how much farther she and Kelpie had to go…how far she was from any help at all. She’d never thought to bring her pepper spray. She’d fight, of course, but he was all whipcord muscle and supple strength.

She wouldn’t last long….

What in hell’s wrong with you? He’d offered no threat whatsoever. He wasn’t armed. He didn’t even have a horse that she could see.

“The Blue Moon, yes,” she said. “They’ll be waiting up for me.”

He smiled as if he fully recognized the false bravado in her words. “I have no doubt,” he said. He reached for Kelpie’s head. The gelding stood very still. Cat held her breath.

“So, querido. ” The man stroked Kelpie’s muzzle, but his gaze remained on Cat. “Shall we see what ails you?” He knelt to examine the gelding’s leg, murmuring in Spanish all the while. “It is not so bad, mi amigo . A poultice, a few weeks’ rest…” He rose slowly. Cat felt as though he were running his hands over her body. “I will guide you back to the ranch, señorita ,” he said.

“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary.”

“But you are traveling in the wrong direction,” he said. “Those who wait for you will surely worry.”

Was he mocking her? She drew up, all her anger against men spilling into her chest. “I’ll be all right.”

“Will you?” He moved closer. “It is not wise to travel alone, even in a place like this.”

He smelled, she thought, of sagebrush and horses and a unique, completely masculine scent that threatened to overwhelm her senses.

He was dangerous, but not in the way she’d feared.

“If you’ll point me in the right direction,” she said, “I’m sure I can make it the rest of the way.”

His dark brows lifted and his nostrils flared. Cat began to feel hot…hot in the face, in her belly, in between her legs. She could almost feel the pressure of those sensuous lips on hers, the thrust of his tongue, his hands slipping beneath her shirt to caress her nipples….

She swallowed hard. “Thank you, but no. I prefer to travel alone.”

For a moment his pale eyes flashed with something that might have been anger. Then he touched the brim of his hat again and gave a slight, ironic bow.

“As you wish.” He leaned toward Kelpie’s ear and whispered words Cat couldn’t hear. Kelpie nickered and nibbled at the stranger’s sleeve as he withdrew.

“Adiós,” he said, fading into the night the same way he had come. “We shall meet again, señorita .”

The silence was absolute. Even the wind had stilled. Cat pressed her hand to her chest, trying to quiet her racing heart. Remembering the man’s advice, she turned Kelpie around and started in the opposite direction. Two hours later she saw the lights of the ranch house. Turk ran out to meet her.

“Miss Cat! Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. It’s Kelpie who’s hurt.”

Immediately Turk lifted the gelding’s leg. “Don’t look too bad.” He glanced up at Cat. “I’ll take care of Kelpie. You’d better get yourself into the house. Pilar’s worried sick over you.”

Cat gladly obeyed. Her mouth was dry as a desert, and she felt more than a little weak at the knees.

The housekeeper greeted her with relief and good-natured scolding, which Cat accepted as her just due.

She drank the cocoa Pilar set down in front of her and meekly retreated to the guest room.

No bed, no matter how luxurious, had ever looked so welcome. Cat stripped out of her dusty clothes, threw them across a chair, and climbed naked between the sheets. The plain cotton felt incredibly soft against her skin. Every movement awakened strong sensations, as if her nerves had been lit on fire. Her imagination conjured up vivid images of the stranger, spawning pictures of sleek muscle and a strong, angular face.

A face that looked at her out of the darkness, eyes burning with unreserved lust.

Cat tried to close her eyes, fighting the images and the reaction of her body. Finally exhaustion claimed her, and she slid gratefully into sleep.

She had never seen men like these before.

They came boldly into the village, sitting on great beasts with long necks and sweeping tails, the metal on their heads and chests gleaming in the sun. They smiled as they leaped from the backs of their mounts, speaking a tongue she had never heard.

The village headman welcomed them with courtesy and care, for he, too, had no knowledge of this tribe of pale-skinned warriors with their sharp-edged weapons. It was best to be safe until more was known about them.

For her, it was enough to know that a new excitement had come to the village. She watched the men with fascination as they removed the leather chairs from the great beasts’ backs and brushed the creatures’ coats until they gleamed. She stared in fascination as they shed their heavy clothing to reveal skin that surely had never been touched by the sun. She spied on the elders as they spoke with the strangers, and always her gaze was drawn to one among the foreign warriors.

He was tall compared to the villagers, though his hair was as black as that of the people. The shape of his face was different, but she found it handsome in its own way. His eyes drew her most, for they were the color of the first light of dawn.

One day he caught her watching him, though she had done her best not to let him see. He spoke to her in his stranger’s tongue, gently and with admiration in those pale eyes. Sometimes his companions seemed crude and loud, but he was not. She began to teach him the peoples’ language. He was a swift learner, and at last he began to speak the words she had longed to hear.

Too soon it was time for him and his companions to leave the village, to rejoin their tribe. She could not wait for him to return and for the marriage to take place. When he asked her to come with him into the forest, she went eagerly, knowing that what they were about to do would change her life forever….

Cat woke to the glory of an orgasm.

At first she wasn’t sure exactly what she was feeling. She’d almost forgotten what it was like; Neal hadn’t bothered to satisfy her in years. But she felt between her thighs and her fingers came away wet.