Midnight Rider (12 page)

His fingers closed over her wrist, stopping the movement of her hand. “I will not tolerate your disobedience,” he warned softly, reading her thoughts, his eyes dark and boring into hers. “Treat the woman with anything less than respect and you will not like the consequences, I warn you.”

Her lips drew into a pout. She leaned over and kissed the head of his shaft, making it throb and quiver. “I am sorry I displeased you.”

“As I said last night, I will be more than displeased should you do it again.”

Ramon had a terrible temper, but he had never hurt her. Once, when she had first come to Llano Mirada, Elena Torres, the girl who was his woman then, had stolen some money from one of the men. When Ramon confronted her, demanding she give back the money, she shouted obscenities and called him vile names. Ramon tossed her over his shoulder, carried her over to the horse trough, and dumped her in the water. The woman deserved it and the dunking hadn't hurt her. Mostly her pride had been stung.

No, he had never been cruel to a woman. Except for the
gringa.
Which did nothing to ease Miranda's fears.

“Do not be angry, Ramon,” she said seductively.

Bending forward, she ran her fingers lightly over his chest, bent and took his flat copper nipple into her mouth, teasing it with her tongue. Her hand strayed down to his hardened arousal. She stroked him there and the muscles of his stomach went taut. Beneath her fingers, the rhythm of his heart grew more rapid. She raised up to kiss him, but instead he gripped her shoulders and rolled her beneath him then began to suckle her breasts. His hand slid down to the folds of her sex. She was already wet and ready. Ramon spread her legs and drove himself deeply inside her.

In minutes he brought her to climax, then rapidly reached his own. For a moment he lay quiet, staring up at the beams over his head. Then he rolled away.

“It is early yet,” Miranda said softly. “The sun is only just up. For once can you not linger here for a while?”

“Not today,” he said curtly. Grabbing a clean linen towel from beside the basin, he draped it around his neck, pulled on his snug black breeches, and headed out the door of the cabin, making his way upstream toward the place set aside for the men to bathe.

Miranda sighed. More and more he grew distant. She was losing him, she knew, and yet there was nothing she could do. She thought of the woman, the beautiful Americana with the fiery auburn hair.

Ramon had treated her badly, but he had been beside himself with grief. Still it worried Miranda, for it took great passion for such an act. Already that passion had changed from hatred to something else. She did not wish to see it change again.

Miranda slammed a slim fist down on the feather mattress. Ramon wanted the beautiful
gringa.
Miranda could see it in his eyes whenever he looked in the woman's direction.

She wondered how long it would be before he took her.

She wondered as well what she could do to stop him.

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

Ramon crossed the compound to where Sanchez worked with the horses, most of them captured wild from the few bands left, broken to the saddle, and trained by Pedro, Ignacio, and Ruiz.

“Buenos dias, amigo,”
Ramon called out to his friend. The older man trotted the sleek bay mare he was riding over to the split log fence. Mostly the vaqueros rode stallions. Mares were for women and children, they believed. A real man rode a real man's horse. But here in the mountains, they took whatever they could get.

“You have decided what to do with the girl?” Pedro asked.

“I am afraid not, my friend, not yet. I did see her uncle while I was in the valley. I stopped by Rancho del Robles to pay my condolences on the abduction of his niece and to offer my assistance in helping him to find her. I told him I was sorry I was away when the trouble began.”

“And?”

“He said they had scoured the high country but seen no sign of his niece or El Dragón. He is hoping there will be some sort of ransom.”

“And?”

“And he declined my offer of assistance. I got the impression the help of a Californio is the last thing he wants right now.”

“Lucky for you,” Pedro said.

“
Si,
very lucky. Another week of hard riding with Fletcher Austin would hardly suit my purpose.”

“Not when you would rather be here with the girl.”

Ramon shrugged off the notion. “I owe her a debt. I cannot let her leave, but there are other things I can do to repay her.”

“Like taking her to bed?”

Ramon bristled. “Do not be a fool, Pedro. I will do nothing to dishonor her. I have hurt her enough already.”

“As time goes on, I hope you remember that.”

Ramon said nothing. He wanted the girl, yes. But she was an innocent, and marriage was out of the question. When the time came, he would wed with a woman of pure Spanish blood just as he had vowed for the past ten years.

He owed it to his people, to his family. He owed it to himself.

Ramon sighed. He wished he knew what to do with Caralee McConnell, but until he made a decision, he would do as he had said and try to make up for the pain he had caused her. With that thought in mind, he started toward his small adobe house.

*   *   *

Weary from her sleepless night, Carly climbed out of bed just as Florentia came bustling in. “Don Ramon has come. He wishes you to join him for a ride. He says that you should hurry.”

“Tell him to go away.”

Florentia made the sign of the cross. “
Dios mio,
no! You cannot say that to the don!”

Carly's chin went up. “Maybe you can't but I can. I'll be dressed in a moment.”

Ramon waited patiently in the
sala.
A few minutes later, Carly came striding in wearing her yellow skirt and white peasant blouse, her hair pulled back and secured with tortoiseshell combs.

“
Buenas dias,
senorita,” he said, coming to his feet. “You are looking quite lovely this morning.”

“I'm looking exactly the way I looked yesterday morning. The way I'll look every day I'm here if these are to be my only clothes.”

He felt the pull of a smile. “I will see what I can do. In the meantime, since you are obviously feeling strong enough, I thought you might like to visit the Indian village.”

“I think, Don Ramon, that perhaps I didn't make myself clear. Yesterday, I agreed to a walk with you around the compound. Outside of that, I don't intend to suffer your company any more than I absolutely have to.”

Ramon shrugged, though he felt a hint of amusement. He liked her spirit, her fire. He would like to be the man to see her gentled and brought in hand. “That is too bad. It is quite an interesting place. And the woman, Lena, deserves your thanks. She is the one who came when you were ill.”

She pondered that, studying his face with eyes the color of new spring grasses. “Senor Sanchez has been kind. Perhaps he will take me.”

“I am afraid Pedro is busy. That leaves only me. There is much to learn in the village, things that would help you understand this country. But … if you are afraid to go with me, you can always stay here.”

Her chin went up a notch higher. Spots of color tinged her pretty cheeks. “I am not afraid of you.”

“No?”

“If I refuse it is only because I want nothing to do with a man like you.”

She would go. She wouldn't let him best her. He would be willing to bet his last gold
real.
He simply stood there waiting.

“Why are you doing this? The night you took me from my uncle's hacienda, you had no thought of being kind to me. Why now? What is it you want from me?”

His eyes ran the length of her body then returned to settle on her lush ruby lips. In an instant he knew what he wanted, what he had desired all along. “I would like nothing more,
querida,
than to see you settled in my bed. But I promise you that will not happen. As I told you before—with me you will be safe.”

Her big green eyes went wide. She wet her soft full lips. “I-I don't know what to think of you. One day you are cruel, the next you are gallant. Today you act the rogue. Perhaps I am afraid of you after all.”

“I do not think so,” he said softly. “A little afraid of yourself, perhaps, but no longer afraid of me.”

Carly said nothing, just stared at him as if she tried to see inside his mind. It was something he would not let her do.

“Do you ride with me, senorita?”

“Maybe I would … if I knew how to ride.”

He grinned at that and nodded. “
Si,
I had forgotten. That is what you said the day of the horse race. Perhaps then, that is the reason you preferred to walk all the way to Llano Mirada.”

At the teasing in his voice, Carly couldn't help but smile. “You're a hard man, Don Ramon, but at least you have a sense of humor.”

“As do you, Senorita McConnell, I am happy to say.” He captured her hand and started forward. “The village is not far. You will travel with me. As to your riding, we will begin your lessons tomorrow. You said once that you liked horses. If you wish to remain in this country, it is past the time that you should have learned to ride.”

She had to admit the notion held a strong appeal—it was a necessity if she meant to escape. She had wanted to learn since her arrival at Rancho del Robles. Her uncle had promised to have someone teach her but the opportunity never seemed to present itself.

And she had seen the Spaniard ride. She had never seen a finer display of horsemanship.

“Ruiz!” the don called out when they reached the split log corral. “You have saddled Viento?”

“
Si,
Don Ramon.” The young vaquero smiled. “And a gentle mare for the senorita.” He was wiry, shorter than the don, but handsome, with a pleasant face and intelligent dark eyes. He had brought her food and water on the difficult journey through the mountains. Perhaps he would help her again.

Carly smiled up at him. The don saw it and frowned.

“You may put the mare away,” he said brusquely. “Senorita McConnell does not yet ride. She will begin her lessons tomorrow. In the meantime, bring Viento to me.”

The young man nodded and hurried to do the Spaniard's bidding. “Ruiz works with Sanchez and Ignacio. They are in charge of the remuda, the horses we keep here in the stronghold. He is the youngest of the vaqueros—which does not mean that he is a fool.”

Thinking of the smile she had given him, Carly flushed. “I don't know what you mean.”

“These men are loyal to me,
chica.
There is no one here who will help you.”

Her spine went stiff. “The boy was kind to me in the mountains. More than I can say of you. He is pleasant to look at and if I wish to smile at him, I will.”

Ramon's frown darkened. “You are under my protection, Senorita McConnell. As long as you behave yourself, you will remain so. Seducing one of my vaqueros is not behaving—do I make myself clear?”

“Of all the gall! I suppose you consider seducing that young woman I met yesterday ‘suitable behavior.' I suppose you think that is perfectly all right.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I am a man. It is different for me.” He had the audacity to smile. It was so bright and charming it made her stomach flop over. “But I am glad to see that you are at least a little bit jealous.”

Carly opened her mouth to deny it, to fling some scathing retort, but the big black stallion arrived just then, fresh and dancing at the end of its tether, tossing its beautiful head and stamping its feet. Carly took an uneasy step away.

“Do not be afraid. Viento is eager for the journey, but he will not harm you.” He lifted her easily up on the saddle then gracefully swung up behind her. Feeling his arm around her waist just beneath the swell of her breast, his warm breath close beside her ear, she shivered and not with the cold.

“The sun is out,” he said, “but perhaps your illness lingers.” Before she could stop him, he had called for Ruiz to bring her a shawl from the house, then wrapped it protectively around her shoulders.

“Better?”

Carly simply nodded. All she could think of was the dream she'd had last night. Of riding with the don on his big black horse, of the fiery way he had kissed her, of the feel of his hands on her body. She wondered how far it was to the Indian village and suddenly wished that she had declined to go with him.

*   *   *

The ride was even more unnerving than she had first thought. Hard male thighs pressed against her bottom and the muscles across the Spaniard's chest flexed seductively as he handled the magnificent horse. They rode out through the guarded pass that she had come in through, but before they reached the bottom, he turned off onto a different trail and headed into a thick grove of trees.

Beneath the heavy growth of branches, the sun directly overhead, she couldn't tell north from south, east from west, and suddenly she realized that was exactly what he had planned.

She stopped trying to figure out where she was and relaxed against him, then straightened again to avoid the touch of his hard-muscled chest against her back. She was more than a little bit grateful when the don drew the stallion to a halt on a rise overlooking the village.

It sat in a clearing surrounded by pine trees, fifteen to twenty dome-shaped, mud-and-willow-branch huts interwoven with tule reeds. A larger hut partially set into the ground stood at one end, a
temescal,
the don said the Spanish called it, a sweat hut, the place the Indians also kept their weapons. Great baskets as tall as a man were nestled in the trees for the storage of acorns and seeds.

“These are Yokuts mostly,” Ramon said, urging the stallion forward. “From the big central valley to the east. There are also Miwok and Mutsen—Costanoans, they are called—Coastal Indians who once ranged near the sea.”