Authors: Helen Conrad
She watched as he came over the top of the
ladder. He looked huge in the gathering dusk, huge
and hard and seductive, and she ached to touch
him, to have his body pressed to hers. She didn’t move as he came towards her, and he stopped just before her, looking down, too close for casual conversation, but not touching her yet.
“Let me go,” she said without much conviction.
“No,” he answered with new intensity. “Not a
chance.”
His hands cupped her face, fingers sliding into
her hair, and he tilted her head so that she had to
look fully into his eyes. “Do you feel like a victim
now?” he asked her softly, his warm breath spilling
across her skin like the water of some exotic fountain.
His eyes were so dark, so mysterious, and yet she felt as though she could see right through them into
his soul. He wanted her. He’d wanted her all
evening, from the moment he’d picked her up in his
little car. She’d been ignoring it, but it had been
there, unspoken, all the while. And she knew the excitement of it had helped set this evening apart
from any other she’d ever spent.
It was all wrong, so wrong, but at the same time, it was the most natural thing on earth. “Do you feel
like a predator?” she countered.
His fingers tightened, sending electricity coursing through her from his touch. “I don’t think I feel
like a predator,” he said, a hint of humor in his
eyes. He drew her closer, so that her slim body
barely brushed his lean form. “Do I feel like a predator to you?”
“No.” Suddenly she was laughing. When had she ever laughed in a man’s arms before? “No, you feel
like a—” Now how could she put this? “—a very
sexy man to me.”
His smile was slow and lazy and just slightly
edged with desire. “You feel pretty sexy to me, too,”
he told her, purposely twisting her words again.
“Much too sexy to resist.”
His kiss was a tender gathering-in, and then his arms were around her, hands moving across her back, pulling her closer. His mouth on hers was
warmth, wave upon wave of warmth, a deeper,
more delicious warmth than any she’d ever felt
before.
David Santiago
, she thought dreamily,
who are you? Can the man who threatens the peace of my family really be the same as this man whose kiss I
think I could become addicted to? Impossible.
They were two different people, no question about
it.
She smiled, arching to his touch, glad to have
that settled. That left her free to enjoy the man she was with, the wonderful, warm, loving man who would never do a cruel thing to anyone.
Somehow, they’d found a bed among the hay.
Somehow, David’s shirt had come unbuttoned, and
Shawnee’s shoulders had become bare and their
hearts and minds and bodies were twining, blending, braiding into a love-knot that would be hard to
untie once it had been pulled very tight. Their kisses deepened, tongues tangling, breaths merging
sweetly, building a haze of desire around them.
Then David was leaning over her, his dark hair disheveled and falling over his forehead so that it
shaded his eyes, his hand stroking her breast, bringing
up the nipple to an aching peak beneath the slightly
rough cloth, and she moaned a soft, dove-like
sound, reaching a finger to touch his temple.
“Remember the Spanish caballero and the
beautiful girl he found in the stream?” he asked her
huskily, his lips making gentle nips along her naked
collarbone.
She nodded groggily, lying back against the crackling hay, seeing him only through a haze of
tingling pleasure.
“I’m going to show you what he really did,” he
whispered, his voice caressing her the same way his
hands were. “You just watch this.”
She wasn’t in any condition to watch anything, but she seemed to be able to feel everything in the
world—his hand moving in sensuous circles across
the sensitive skin of her thigh, his long, taut body
pressed to hers, the crisp wealth of hair that met her
fingers when she stroked his chest. It occurred to her, suddenly, that they were about to make love.
Did that mean they were in love? It must, or she wouldn’t be allowing this to happen.
Her head moved back, eyes trying to focus, mind trying to deal with that thought. Did she love David
Santiago? No—wait—that was impossible. She
tried to struggle up, to stop him, but his hands were
sure and firm on her flesh, and then he’d opened
her dress and his mouth was on her breast, tongue
caressing the hard tip, sending exquisite persuasion
knifing through her body.
Maybe it wasn’t so impossible after all. Maybe it was just as right as the feelings he could conjure up
with a touch, a kiss, a shuttered look. Maybe . . .
she sank back down and sighed a long, slow sigh of
pure enchantment.
David,
she thought foggily,
I
guess I love you
.
Suddenly he went very still against her. She looked up at him, blinking through a spray of
black hair that had tossed itself across her eyes.
“What . . . ?” she tried to ask, but he shook his
head, putting a quick hand over her mouth.
She listened, trying to hear what had bothered
him, and then she heard it, too. Someone was in the
barn.
CHAPTER SIX
DRAWING FIRE
“David?” The voice was high and feminine, “Are
you in here?”
David groaned very softly, pulling Shawnee close against him. Still struggling to regain her
grasp of reality, she realized he was chuckling.
Chuckling, when the world was still spinning around her like a top gone wild.
Tilting back her head, she tried to look into his
face. “Who is it?” she mouthed.
“Shhh.” He put a finger to his lips and motioned her to be quiet, “Maybe she’ll go away,” he whis
pered, eyes twinkling.
Whoever “she” was, she seemed to have no intention of doing that. While they lay pressed together,
not moving at all, they could hear the woman
rummaging through some equipment, then kicking at a bale of hay. Shawnee listened intently, wonder
ing who she was, hoping she would leave. Suddenly
she felt David’s hands beginning to move across her
skin again.
“David!” she protested as softly as she could,
twisting a little away, only to be pulled back into the
curl of his embrace.
“She’s taking too long,” he murmured into her ear. “I can’t wait any longer.” A note of humor softened the intensity of his statement, but that
didn’t stop him from tightening his grip on her.
There was the sound of something being
knocked over, and at the same time, Shawnee gasped as David’s hands cupped both her breasts. “David, don’t!” she whispered.
“Why not?” he muttered back teasingly. “See if you can resist this any more than I can.”
His hands tickled and tantalized at the same time, touching her in a way that was both intimate and teasing, making her squirm and then giggle uncontrollably. Every piece of straw seemed to be sticking into her skin now. Funny how she hadn’t noticed them before.
There was another sharp noise below and he poked her. “See there? Now you’ve given away our hiding place,” he whispered huskily.
“David! I know you’re up there. I saw you come in.” The voice came closer to their loft. “Come down. I want to talk to you.” There was a pause, then she continued. “And bring your little girlfriend with you.”
Shawnee felt a sense of dread at being caught in this role. It was so humiliating. And then her natural pride took over. She wasn’t the one who was interrupting, after all. It was the woman below who’d brought about this confrontation.
“I guess we’d better do it,” David said, resignation coloring his sigh. “If it were anyone else, I’d just order them out. But she’s liable to come up here to drag us down if we don’t go on our own.”
“Who is she?” Shawnee hissed, pulling her clothes together and feeling suddenly cold. If this was some old flame of David’s, she might be in for a hair-pulling contest for all she knew.
“My sister,” he answered. “Allison.”
His older sister who’d been like a mother to him for years. Shawnee groaned silently, wishing she could stay and hide in the hay. Was there anything more embarrassing than being found this way by a member of the family?
“David!”
“We’re coming,” he called back down. “More in respectful obedience than enthusiasm, I might add.”
He rose and smiled at Shawnee. “Would you like to go first?” he asked. “Or would you rather I drew the fire?”
She stared at him for a moment, remembering that only a short time ago, she’d been wondering if she were in love. Had it been only a trick of her mind, a device to allow her to enjoy his lovemaking as she’d so badly wanted to? Or had it been real?
Looking at him now, she felt a surge of hot emotion. She wanted to touch his face, to reach out and take some sort of reassurance from him. But his smile was crinkling with amusement. He wasn’t thinking of love. That she could see plainly. He was thinking about the silly situation they were in, and he was enjoying it to the hilt,
“You go ahead,” she said quickly. “I’ll follow you.”
The trip down the ladder was a wistful anticlimax after her breathless scramble up. She hardly cared any more that there was someone waiting below, censure sparkling in her blue eyes.
“Oh, David, I would have thought you’d be beyond this sort of thing at your age.” Allison’s voice wavered between annoyance and amused affection for her brother. “I remember when Daddy caught you up there with Becky Masters when you were sixteen. He whaled the tar out of you, as I recall.”
She was talking to David but watching his companion. Shawnee kept her chin high as she reached the bottom of the ladder. She wasn’t about to let this person, this Santiago, make her feel like a fool.
Allison was in her late thirties, a tall, elegant-looking woman with eyes that spoke of quiet desperation. Her brown hair was worn short and curly; her slim body was clothed in subtly expensive riding-clothes. There was some resemblance to her brother, but none of his humor, none of his depth.
Shawnee could see that Allison was ready not to like her, even before she knew who she was. With sudden defiance, she decided to take the offensive instead of waiting around to be attacked.
“Don’t blame David,” she said quickly, managing a brittle smile. “I asked him to show me every inch of Rancho Verde. He was only being the perfect host.”
David turned to her, a question in his eyes, but he didn’t say a word. She could almost think he was curious to see how this confrontation between the two of them might turn out. But he did drape a hand lightly but possessively at the back of her neck. The warmth of him filled her again, even from such a simple touch.
Allison had her riding-crop in her hand. Outside, Shawnee could see her horse waiting. The tall woman slapped the crop against her thigh before she answered.
“David has always been an accommodating sort, but I wouldn’t think even he would include himself in the tour,” she said drily, then went on before either of them could reply. “Of course, I’ve never known a girl yet who could resist David,” she smirked, then a frown darkened her face. “Just what is your interest in our home? I’m afraid if you’re in the market for ranches, you’ll have to look elsewhere. Ours is not for sale.”
Shawnee hesitated, glancing at David. “I’m Shawnee Carrington,” she said, searching the tall woman’s eyes as she said the name. There. Reaction. David might not have known much about the old feud, but Allison certainly did.
“Carrington?” Her eyes widened, then went cold. “Jim Carrington?”
“My grandfather.”
“Of course.”
“And Rancho Verde was once my family’s home.”
Allison turned fully towards David, fury lighting her face. “What is she doing here?” she demanded. “How did she get in?” Her riding-crop slashed against her own thigh to emphasize her words.
“Take it easy.” David’s hand left Shawnee’s neck and he stepped forward, taking his sister by her shoulders. “She’s my guest, Allison. I invited her here.” His voice was gentle, soothing, as though he were used to quieting her.
“Why, so she and her family can concoct more lies about us?” She swung back to face Shawnee. “I know what you say in town. I know all about the stories you’ve spread through the years. Your grandfather has no more right to Rancho Verde than he does to the moon, and you can tell him so . . .”
“Allison.” David gave her a gentle shake, forcing
her to look up into his face. “That’s enough.”
Allison’s blue eyes stared into her brother’s dark ones. She blinked rapidly, then her harsh armor began to melt. “I’m sorry,” she said shakily, glanc
ing at Shawnee. “That was very rude. I…I hope you’ll
forgive me.”
Surprised, Shawnee found herself nodding. “Of course,” she murmured. Funny how vulnerable Allison seemed, not like the hard, arrogant picture
she’d had of her all these years. Could it be that she had things in her past that aunted her just as much as it did the Carringtons?
But her outburst did serve to remind Shawnee of
her own purpose. How could she have let David lead her so far astray? Why, she’d almost. . . !