Hotter Than Hell (22 page)

Panic sent her heart into overdrive. She sprang up and stood in the center of the room, searching every corner.

He wasn’t there. How could he be? He had been a dream, in a time and place that had seemed alien and yet utterly familiar.

A dream who had walked out of the shadows and into reality.

Cat sank into the chair and began to laugh. There was no reason for the levity except that she felt more than a little loco, and laughter seemed the best medicine for her ailment.

“Señora?”

Pilar was knocking on the door, undoubtedly alarmed by the racket. Cat put on her thick chenille robe and opened the door.

“I’m sorry to have disturbed you,” she said. “I’m all right. I just had a crazy dream.”

The older woman’s brown eyes were skeptical. “You should rest today, Señora Catalina. I will make you a good breakfast…”

“I’m not very hungry. I’ll take a little fruit, if you have any.”

“Si.” Pilar continued to regard Cat in a way that made her feel like a naughty little girl. “You say nothing happened to you last night?”

“Nothing.” Nothing that really mattered, anyway. “I think I’ll go for another ride this morning.”

Pilar sighed and walked back toward the kitchen. Cat showered, dressed in jeans and denim shirt, and grabbed a slice of melon and an apple on her way out the door. Turk wasn’t in the stables. Cat leaned on the corral fence, wondering if she ought to try saddling one of the horses herself. She’d done it a few times when she’d gone to riding camp as a teenager, but that had been a lifetime ago.

As she kicked at the dirt and debated her course of action, she looked up and saw the black horse.

He…and she had no doubt that it was indeed a “he”…stood outside the fence on the opposite side of the corral, unburdened by either saddle or bridle. His coat was a true black, not burned brown like so many dark horses. His mane was a luxurious ebon wave that fell almost to the bottom of his neck, and his tail was held high as a flag. A white star in the shape of a cross blazed his face.

Cat shivered, remembering how a horse exactly like this one had haunted her childhood dreams. He had been so far away then, impossible to catch. Now he stood no more than twenty yards distant, and his eyes—his strangely pale eyes—gazed at her with uncanny intensity.

She never knew why she did what she did then. Without a moment’s thought, she circled the corral and approached the horse, walking slowly and carefully. She still had the apple in her jacket pocket. Her fingers closed around the smooth, polished surface and pulled it out.

The stallion watched her come with elegant ears swiveled forward and nostrils flared. He arched his neck and shifted from foot to foot as if to display his strength and elegance. Cat felt no fear at all. She offered the apple in her extended hand.

He took it with remarkable gentleness, his lips sliding across her fingertips.

“You’re a beautiful boy,” she said, patting his silky neck. “Where did you come from?”

The stallion finished the apple, watching her all the while. He made a low, coaxing sound deep in his throat.

“You must be valuable,” she said. “Maybe I should go ask Turk who—”

The stallion reared, ears flat. Cat stepped back, suddenly aware of his sharp hooves and sheer size. It was almost as if he’d understood her.

“Okay,” she murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The stallion danced, tossing his head and eying Cat with suspicion. After a moment he approached her again, stretching his neck and nibbling her shoulder.

“I sure wish I knew what was going on in that head of yours,” she said. “Are you hungry? I can bring some oats…”

He snorted with contemptuous eloquence. His blue eyes seemed virtually human, the pupil more round than oblong. Cat was eerily convinced that he really did understand every word she said.

“What do you want?” she asked softly. “How can I help you?”

Drawing back his head, the stallion dropped to his knees. There was nothing in the least humble in his posture. He nickered an invitation.

Surely his odd behavior couldn’t mean what it seemed to mean. Cat moved to his side and laid her hand on his back. He rumbled approvingly.

“You want me to ride you?”

He nodded. There was no other word for his reaction. Cautiously Cat leaned across him, enchanted by the muscular curve of his withers and hindquarters. He remained quiet. Cat swung her leg over his back, looking toward the house to make sure no one was watching.

The instant she was settled, the stallion surged to his feet. Cat grabbed for his mane as he wheeled about and began to run.

The horse was kidnapping her. And she had absolutely no way to stop him.

For several minutes all she could do was hang on. The air was crip and cool. The sun was just beginning to peek above the mountains to the east. The stallion galloped straight north, his tail streaming behind him.

Cat caught her breath. The stallion’s gait was so smooth that she felt in not the slightest danger of falling off, even though she had no reins, stirrups, or handy saddle horn. Her initial concern had passed.

In fact, she felt an undeniable exhilaration at the feel of her mount’s muscles flexing between her thighs, the snap of her hair, the sense of flying over the earth.

This was true freedom. This was what she’d been seeking ever since those dreams fifteen years ago.

She flung back her head and laughed aloud. The stallion twitched his ears to listen and stretched his legs in an even faster pace.

Miles passed in a blur. Cat hardly noticed when the stallion slowed. His coat gleamed with sweat, but his neck was still arched and his sheer magnificence claimed obeisance from every creature that shared his world.

A small grove of cottonwoods crouched over an unexpected green jewel nestled in the brown setting of the plain. Cat thought gratefully of water, even if it wasn’t sterilized and out of a tap.

Another dozen yards revealed a tiny pool and the bubbling of a spring. A pair of pronghorn antelope sprang away from the bank, white rumps flashing. The stallion ignored them and paced to the water’s edge. He twisted his head back to look at Cat.

His message was clear enough. Cat slid from his back, staggered a little as she got her land legs again, and sat down under the shade of a cottonwood. The stallion dipped his muzzle into the pool and drank.

“I can’t just keep calling you ‘the stallion,’ you know,” Cat said. “You’re black as a storm cloud. Let me see if I can remember…” She snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. What about trueno ? That’s

‘thunder.’ Nice and succinct.”

Trueno bobbed his head. Cat chuckled and stretched out on the green grass. It was well into midmorning and not by any means hot, but Cat keenly felt the confinement of her clothing. She removed her jacket and scarf, undid the top several buttons of her shirt and kicked off her boots.

She should have been thinking about where she was and how she’d get back to the ranch. She should have asked herself a few more questions about why the stallion had behaved as he had, why she’d climbed onto his back with a complete lack of the most basic common sense.

But she didn’t. She closed her eyes, blissfully relaxed, and dozed while Trueno grazed nearby. Once or twice she woke, noted vaguely that the sun had moved again, and sank back into sleep.

The forest closed in around them, a perfect bower for secret lovers. Firm lips pressed against hers, demanding entrance. She opened her mouth in a cry of surprise and a warm, insistent tongue thrust into her mouth, hungry and caressing. She felt calloused fingers inside her blouse, circling her nipples. She gloried in the heat of a hard, lean body stretched out beside her. Wetness pooled between her legs.

“Sí, my beautiful one,” he said, running his tongue over her lips. With long, lean fingers he pushed her blouse above her breasts. “Muy linda,” he murmured.

She gasped as he bent and took her nipple in his mouth. Dark, unruly hair brushed against her face and shoulders. She whimpered while he suckled her, licking and kissing and grazing her breasts with his teeth.

She was so close, so close to something wonderful. Somehow she knew that if she opened her eyes, the pleasure would stop. If she dared to question, even for a moment, it would all go away….

Cat opened her eyes. The sky was dark and studded with stars. The branches of the cottonwood shivered overhead. And she remembered.

The man didn’t resist as she pushed him away. In one fluid motion he detached himself and settled into a crouch, pale eyes catching moonlight.

Oh, God. She’d seen him before. He was the cowboy she’d met last night. And he had been…doing things to her. While she slept. And in her dreams.

With trembling fingers she buttoned her shirt. Her nipples were wet from his kisses. Her mouth throbbed. She nearly groaned with the intensity of her arousal. She stared at the stranger’s lips and slowly raised her eyes to his.

“Señorita,” he said, his voice husky and low.

Cat scooted away. “I warn you. I can fight. If you try anything—”

He shook his head. “Oh, no, señorita . I will not do anything you do not wish me to do.”

His long hair drifted across his face, softening the angles of his cheekbones and jaw. Cat’s heart was beating hard enough to be heard in California. She had been lying there, doing nothing, believing it was all another dream. But he was real. And she’d wanted him to keep on doing what he was doing, both in the dream and in reality. She still did.

“Where is my horse?” she demanded, her voice cracking.

He stood up. Her eyes were level with his hips. There was no mistaking his impressive erection.

“Don’t worry, querida. He is here.”

Cat glanced around. If the stallion were more than a few feet away, she wouldn’t be able to see his black coat in the darkness.

“Who are you?” Cat demanded. “What are you doing here?”

He tilted his head. She saw that he wore the same shirt as he had last night, but it was unbuttoned almost to his waist. Sleek black hair dusted his chest. His pecs were beautifully developed, his stomach ridged with muscle.

“My name,” he said, “is Andrés. And you are Catalina.”

The sound of her name on his tongue left her shaken. God, he was beautiful. All she had to do was hold out her arms, and he would take her. Just like that. A stranger she wanted with every fiber of her being.

Not a stranger, her heart insisted. You know him. You know him….

“You aren’t afraid,” he said. “You will never be afraid of me.”

“I…” She swallowed. “I’m going to find my horse and leave.”

“It would be far wiser for you to remain here until sunrise.”

He was right, damn him. She couldn’t risk letting Trueno hurt himself as Kelpie had, presuming she could get the stallion to come to her in the first place.

Andrés dropped back into a crouch, his arms draped over his knees. “You will suffer no harm from me, señorita, ” he said. “Or is it señora ?”

Cat couldn’t quite believe that he was asking her such questions after what he’d been doing. “That’s none of your business,” she snapped.

His smile was devastating. “You are no virgin, Catalina. Your response was…most satisfactory.”

Satisfactory. Cat suppressed a moan. “You…you don’t know anything about me.”

“I know that you deny your own passions, mi gatita .”

“I don’t deny anyth—” Cat stopped, stung with outrage. “Gatita”—kitten—was what her grandmother had called her when she was a child. Andrés whoever-he-was had no right to use that nickname. No right.

“I don’t generally welcome the advances of total strangers,” she said.

“And if I were not a stranger?”

His question compelled her to relive the dream in all its astonishing detail. Why did it seem almost like a memory? Why was part of her so convinced that she had lain in Andrés’s arms in another life?

Cat dug her fingers into the bark of the tree trunk. This was ridiculous. The dream didn’t mean a thing, except that her fantasy life had become a little too vivid. Vivid enough to make her lose her hard-won control. Here she was, holding a normal conversation with a stranger who was clearly crazy and possibly dangerous.

Except he hadn’t hurt her. He’d backed off when she told him to. For all her legal expertise, she couldn’t define the man who crouched before her.

The best thing you can do now is be completely objective. Treat him as a hostile witness.

“Why did you follow me?” she asked.

“Follow you, señorita? But I did not.”

“Are you saying you’ve been here all along?”

“No.”

“How did you get here?”

“On my own feet.”

Hostile, indeed. “Where do you live?”

“I call no place home.”

No horse, no home, apparently no vehicle or significant belongings. But if he were truly an indigent, he’d probably be in much worse shape than he was. No one could claim he was anything but hardy, healthy, and unmistakably virile.

He could still be certifiably insane.

And what’s so sane about the way you felt when he touched you, Catalina O’Roarke?

She folded her arms tightly across her chest. She’d slept through most of the afternoon and a good portion of the night, and yet her legs were growing heavy and her thoughts were sluggish. She was very much afraid that she’d begin to ramble if she tried to keep the conversation going much longer.

“You are tired,” Andrés said. “Sleep, gatita . No harm will come to you.”

Laughter bubbled out of her throat before she could stop it. “I think I’ll stay awake, thank you very much.”

Andrés stretched out where he was and made himself comfortable, resting on his elbow. “You were not always so frightened,” he said.

Cat straightened. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You are fromla ciudad , are you not?”

“I’m from Los Angeles. What of it?”

“I have heard that your great cities have no soul, that those who live in them have forgotten the look of the sky and the feel of the earth.”

“That’s crazy.” Careful . “Haven’t you been to a city before?”

“Sí. Long ago, in another place.” His gaze turned inward, remembering. “I had no love for them, even then. It is why I came to this continent.”