Ride The Wild Wind (Time Travel Historical Romance) (15 page)

Her defiant gaze held his. “And you stole my money you thieving
bastard.”

She winced when he tightened the hold on her hair. “What have you done
with my papers?”

“Go to hell.”

Antonio blotted the blood from his cheek on his sleeve and glared at
her. He knew she had read Elena’s note, that she had also found the reward
poster. But why had she taken his drawings? They meant nothing to her. He had
worked on them for well over a year. This woman was turning out to be more
trouble than she was worth.

Antonio swallowed hard, releasing his hold on her as an uneasy tension
coiled and uncoiled within him. “Where
is
the reward poster—the note
from Frank Cole?”

 “It’s confetti now. I ripped them into a million bits and
scattered them throughout the canyon.”

Shit!
Elena’s note contained Cole’s address.

“And my drawings?” He grasped her by the shoulder and gave her a rough
shake. “What have you done with them?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t mean to take them. At first I thought they
might important maps. They’re not far from the cave. Why do you have all those
creepy sketches of arms and hands, anyway?”

It was none of her business. Besides, she could not possibly understand
his two years of research. Still, he was relieved she hadn’t disposed of
valuable work. He would track back toward the cave and look for them before
continuing on.

Panic seized him when he saw blood in her hair and on her cheek. Then he
realized she was only smeared with
his
blood and not hers.

Why had she run away? He had been generous, sharing his only blanket and
limited food with her. He’d even untied her last night, thinking she might rest
easier. Never again would be charitable.

“You climbed up by yourself. Now, let’s see if you can get down without
breaking your foolish neck.”

“Sorry. No can do. A scorpion stung my foot last night.” She stuck her
foot out and wiggled her toes. “I can’t walk.”

He examined it to make certain she wasn’t lying to him and found one
tiny, swollen spot. “An ant bite? You cannot walk because of an ant bite?”

She frowned. “It hurts. Look at it— all red and streaky with a giant pus
pocket in the center just waiting to spew.”

Actually, it
was
unusually swollen.

“I’m allergic to venomous insects. Once I got stung by a wasp and had to
go to the hospital. My tongue swelled up as thick as a pot roast. I couldn’t
talk for two days.”

He made a mental note to pray for wasps.

With the tiny woman on his back, her dog tucked inside the front of his
shirt for safekeeping and her slender arms and legs wrapped about him, Antonio
descended the massive, craggy wall. Her heels dug into his thighs and he
cursed, almost making a misstep. As if realizing her mistake she hitched her
legs higher, only to graze his sex in the process. Angry as he was, his body
responded once more to the soft, feminine form pressed against his back, her
naked thighs gripping his hips—her even naked-er body beneath the thin gown. He
paused, willing himself to calm the direction of his dangerous thoughts, his
pounding heart. Had she touched him there on purpose?

Her warm breath tickled his ear, and he turned his face away. He had to
think clearly. She shifted and her pelvic bones dug into his spine. All
rational thought fled. Her leg slipped again and her heel nudged his
ever-growing erection.

He groaned. “Damn it, woman, be still.”

“Well, I’m being as still as I can but there’s nothing to hold on to. My
legs keep slipping off your snake hips.” She hitched herself up once more and
locked her ankles at his belly. “Better?” she asked.

It wasn’t, but at least she wasn’t touching him
there.
She
wiggled again.

“My foot itches where the bite is. Think you can you scratch it for me?”

“Will you stop climbing me like a she-cat?” he ground out through
gritted teeth. “You are going to cause us both to fall.”

Once they were down, he patted her down through her clothes to make
certain she wasn’t concealing more weapons. But even that failed to satisfy
him. He was certain he had felt something suspiciously small and hard against
his back when he carried her down. Perhaps a small knife?

“Remove your clothes,” he said, aware of the tremble of his voice.

Her eyes widened. “Why?”

“I must be certain you are not hiding another weapon.”

Her face turned crimson. “But…you just patted me down.”

He swallowed hard, struggling to remain in control at the thought of
what he was about to force her to do. Still, he had to know for certain. “Just
quickly do as I ask and we can be on our way.”

Eyes defiant, she lifted her chin a notch. “I will not take my clothes
off again for any
reason.”

“If I must forcibly search your body, Miss Brannigan, I assure you it
will not be a pleasant experience.”

She swallowed hard and her breathing quickened.

“You are concealing a weapon, aren’t you?”

She shook her head no. She was lying. He sensed it, saw it in the depths
of her frightened brown eyes. He moved in close. “Where is the knife?”

She blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He quirked a brow, watching her expression close for signs of deception.
“You are not wearing pantalets. Perhaps you have stashed it in an intimate
place?”

“No, I’d never!” She appeared clearly unnerved by his suggestion.

“And if I were to check a certain spot, Miss Brannigan, what would I
find?”

She swallowed hard. “You wouldn’t find anything.”

“But I would.”

She backed up a step. “I’ll scream rape if you touch me.”

“Scream anything you like.”

On the silent count of five, he made his move. She did
scream as
his hands went beneath the gown but he wasn’t forced to take extreme measures.
He first located the garter high on her thigh, retrieving a small knife tucked
safely within.

Victorious, he took a step back, flicked it open, and tested his thumb
to the blade’s edge. As he suspected. Sharp enough to disembowel a man. It had
probably had belonged to Elena. He snapped it shut and shoved it into his vest
pocket, confused. Why had she used the fork to stab him instead of the knife?
And how in the hell had she managed to conceal it the past few days?

His eyes pinned hers. “Is there another?”

She blinked. “No.”

Oddly, he did believe her, but angry as he was he enjoyed a perverse
sense of satisfaction watching her squirm. “Perhaps I might check again—this
time more thoroughly.”

 “I promise there’s nothing else on me.”

“Then you’ll have no objection if I perform an intimate inspection of
your person?”

She flattened against the wall when he took a step closer. “I swear to
you I have no other weapons! What do I have to do to convince you I’m not
lying?”

He sighed, shook his head. None of this made sense. Using a fork to stab
him when the razor sharp knife in her garter could have ended his life and
ultimately freed her. “Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance? You
could have taken the horse and the provisions and been halfway back to
Albuquerque by now.”

She scoffed at that remark. “Yeah, right. Like I know how to handle that
beast? And what, do you think I have a map and a compass on me? Maybe a GPS?
Did you find that, too, while you were rummaging around beneath my dress,
Whitehorse?”

What was this confounded woman speaking about? A G-P-S?

She rubbed her hands up and down her arms briskly as if to warm herself.
“Last night I watched you sleep for the longest time. I even plotted all the
ways I could do you in and all the reasons I should.”

“Why didn’t you?”

She shrugged. “I’d probably lose my way and die out here in the desert
if I struck out alone.”

That wasn’t the reason. She cared for him, at least a small bit, and
knew he would not hurt her. And last night she had
enjoyed his touch.
Then the revelation dawned on him as well. He cared for her, too, albeit in a
way he did not yet understand. But he could not afford to care about her. The
People’s survival depended upon his getting the reward money.

As he looked at her, he remembered the way she had felt when he touched
her breast, the way she tasted when he first kissed her so many months ago. It
was in that moment he realized it all began back then—the night he found her
near death in the canyon.

He could no more hand her over to Cole for the reward than chop off his
own arm. What then, must he do? He could not keep her with him, yet he couldn’t
leave her. He did not have a good feeling about this at all.

“I’m sorry about your face.” She took a tentative step toward him. “I
really didn’t want to hurt you—just keep you from catching me.” Her hand
lifted, but she withdrew. “Do you have anything to clean that up with?”

He doused his neckerchief with water from the canteen, then handed it to
her “Did you run away because I frightened you last night?”

“No.” She gingerly touched the cloth to his cheek and he winced at the
sting.

“I only took your clothes to discourage an escape attempt, not for any
other purpose.”

“If it makes any difference…what happened last night in the cave by the
fire was… nice. I wasn’t afraid.”

A shudder rippled through him at her confession. He hadn’t expected such
candor from one who claimed innocence and didn’t quite know what to make of it.
As she gently sponged the puncture wounds, he risked at glance at her face. Her
eyes were filled with concern…and regret. Not the expression he expected from
one who both despised and feared him.

He turned his face abruptly and she jerked, her gaze locking with his.
The same as last night when he awakened her with his touch.
Desire.

His pulse quickened. Hers too as evidenced by her short, shallow
breaths. He watched the pupils in her whiskey colored eyes dilate. Lifting a
hand, he stroked along her jawline and chin and she leaned ever so slightly
into his touch, a mild shudder racking her body.

 What the hell was he doing? He jerked his hand away. She blinked
as if startled, too. He grasped her by the hand and led her to Dinishwo, then
helped her up before swinging up behind her.

“Show me where you left my sketches.” He was all too aware of the
tremble in his voice.

She pointed in the direction he’d come. “Want to tell me what the
drawings are for?

“No.” And he didn’t.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It was a long day’s journey over the rocky terrain. They rode in silence
for hours, following the course of the muddy wash and stopping only twice to
water the horse and fill the canteen. His decision to have her ride in front
had been yet another mistake. Her soft bottom had rocked against his crotch for
miles, caressing him, stroking him to a feverish state of arousal. Her antics
that morning had also delayed them from reaching Sonny’s encampment by several
hours

At dusk, he spotted a few small campfires miles across the canyon.
However, with night closing in, he thought it safer to seek shelter beneath a
massive rock overhang and meet up with his cousin in the morning.

For several hours he watched thunderheads building far off on the
western horizon, but the storm posed no immediate threat. He reined in the bay
and dismounted, then helped her down and allowed her a moment’s privacy behind
the rocks.

“Do not even think of running away,” he warned as he searched for a
secluded spot. It had been a long time since he had resorted to
self-pleasuring, but occasionally it made the lonely times bearable. At this
moment, however, it was a necessity. In his condition, he simply could not
trust himself to remain a gentleman.

Taking himself in hand, he closed his eyes and imagined he was making
love to her. In his mind, she lay before him much as she had last night, every
inch of her lovely flesh bared to his gaze. He imagined himself dipping to
taste the pretty nipples he had briefly touched. He fantasized about driving
him self deep into the soft, slick core of her body. In his daydream she arched
upward, taking all of him in, her pleasured sighs threatening to shatter all
control.

He spiraled toward the edge of release, blood rushing painfully into his
engorged sex. Suppressing a cry, he spent himself on the ground, his breath
coming in deep, choking gasps as his body shuddered violently in the aftermath.
He sagged against the rocks to steady himself. Then, he heard her approach from
behind.

Heart pounding at the prospect of being caught, he hurriedly fastened
his breeches and turned to face her. While he felt relaxed, as if he’d tossed
back three quick shots of expensive bourbon, he had trouble focusing on her
face.

“H-how is your foot?” he asked with much difficulty, tilting his head
slightly to get a better look at the tiny, swollen ant bite. He swallowed hard
as a weak, post-coital spasm shuddered through his groin. “Should I prepare to
amputate?”

She plopped down on the ground and tucked her foot beneath her skirt and
ignored him. Very well. Let her pout. At least he would have a reprieve from
her sassy tongue.

In many ways she reminded him of his young cousin, Tanillei , a strong
willed and resourceful young woman. Tani’s tongue was sharp on occasion, but
she always spoke with honesty. Antonio had often teased Tani, claiming that was
why she remained unmarried at sixteen. No man wanted a woman whose opinions
might cause embarrassment.

After starting a small fire, Antonio handed her a ration of jerked
venison from his pack—all that remained. She accepted it, only to tear the meat
in half and give the dog a piece.

“You will be hungry,” he said.

She shrugged indifferently. “Max has to eat, too.”

Her fondness for the dog continued to mystify him. Sometimes she treated
the animal as if he were her child. Why would she sacrifice her own well-being
for an animal? He sighed and shared a portion of his jerky with her. “Take some
of mine. Tomorrow there will be more food.”

Together they ate in silence.

He worried for her safety around the men. His cousin would not harm her,
but he wasn’t certain about some of the others. If these men learned he had
taken her from a brothel, they might abuse her. They hated the
bilagaana
for what the soldiers were doing and he feared she might become the object of
their wrath. He was far outnumbered to adequately protect her from a mob. The
only solution was to tell the men she was his wife.

Now all he needed was her cooperation.

She had drawn her knees to her chest and rested her forehead on them. He
nudged her shoulder and she inclined her face toward him, giving him a
dismissive glance.

“At dawn we will ride into the valley and meet up with a group of men.”

At that, her back straightened. “Oh, gee. Who are these goons, your old
bank robbing buddies or something?”

“Who they are is no concern of yours, but as long as we are with them
you must stay near me and not wander. Pretend to be my wife. That will entail
cooking for me and tending to my needs. You must also share my blanket at
night.”

She arched a brow. “Is that so? Well here’s a newsflash, mister. I’m not
pretending to be your
anything,
and I sure as hell am not sleeping with
you.”

“It is for your protection.”

She picked up a small pebble and chucked it aside. “So they
are
outlaws.
Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“They can never know I found you at Elena’s. They will have no mercy on
you. I am too far outnumbered to protect you adequately.”

“Why would these men want to hurt me?” Her eyes widened as if in
awareness. “Oh, I get it. You still think I’m a prostitute, don’t you?”

“Elena did not deny that you worked for her, but I also know that you
did not earn more than two hundred dollars in three months time by combing hair
and sewing dresses.”

Her lips pursed into a fine line as her nostrils flared gently. “I’m no
whore, Whitehorse, and I’m not Elena’s lover so put a lid on your sick
fantasies. I’m an artist—a prop designer to be exact. Latex masks and body
parts are my specialty, or at least they were. Now I work as Elena’s secretary,
writing letters and ordering merchandise for her entertainment
business.
And yeah, I style her hair and sew a few of her dresses, but that’s as far as
it goes, buddy. I don’t bang the clientele or the boss lady. Never have.”

 While he believed she was no prostitute, he still wasn’t certain
about her relationship with Elena. His former mistress had never taken a young
woman into her care unless there were strings attached. “You will do well not
to lie to me.” He observed her facial expressions for signs of deception. Her
eyes gave nothing away, but the pulse beat rapidly at her throat. Beneath the
bodice of her filthy dress, her breasts rose and fell with each shallow breath.
Was she frightened? Or lying?

He watched her face carefully. “Were you ever Elena’s lover?”

“No.”

 “Did she proposition you?”

“No.”

Wanting to catch her off guard so as to gage her reaction he asked point
black. “The day I found you unconscious by the creek, did someone leave you
there, or did you run away from home?”

She hesitated then looked away. “I don’t know how I ended up there.”

Now more than ever he was convinced she was hiding something. “There is something
else I have wondered about. Is Frank Cole even your uncle?”

She did look at him then. “No,” she answered firmly.

Oddly, he believed her.

“Who is he?”

She shrugged, but he detected another hint of deception in her eyes. She
might not be Cole’s niece, but she knew more than she admitted.

“He’s just some guy who is looking for me.”

 “You are being evasive again.”

“I am not.”

Hooking a fingertip beneath her chin, he turned her face toward him so
that he might gaze into her eyes. “Why has he offered such a large reward? Did
you steal from him?”

She flinched ever so slightly, but he caught it. “No.”

“Was he your lover?”

“Negative again.”

“But he knows
you
, does he not?”

She flung herself backward onto the ground, her bare feet jamming square
into his chest. Caught off guard from the force of her sudden blow, Antonio
toppled backward, choking for breath. He had underestimated the petite woman’s
strength. She scrambled to her feet and sprinted away. Righting himself, he
sailed after but stumbled over a rock and lost sight of her for a moment in the
gathering dark. He spotted her heading toward the bluff.

“Stop! The path is narrow. You’ll fall!”

She skittered down a deer trail, close to the edge, paying him no heed,
the tiny dog on her heels. Antonio caught up with her, closing the distance
between them. He reached out to grab her, but pulled up short, snagging only a
scrap of lace from her dress. She stumbled. He heard her screams as she fell,
then a dull thud as her body impacted the rocks below.

Heart pounding, he scrambled further down the trail for a closer look
and peered over the side.  In the near inky blackness, her motionless form
lay face down on a ledge several feet below. His stomach lurched. No! She
couldn’t be dead! 

Her dog stood on the ledge, yapping hysterically into the darkness.
“Miss Brannigan!” She did not move or answer. Antonio grabbed a rope from his
saddlebag and returned. After securing one end to a stable slab he descended.

He found her conscious, but she remained silent while he checked for
visible signs of broken bones. Her left knee was damp and sticky with blood. So
was her nose. Yet there was no sign of serious trauma he could determine.

He helped her to her feet, but she was unsteady and faltered. Pulling
her snugly against his body, he lashed the rope about their waists, securing
their bodies together with a series of strong knots. They were so close he
could feel her breath against his cheek, the tremble of her tiny body against
his.

“I am going to get you up safely,” he reassured her as he stroked her
cheek. “When I lift, wrap your arms and legs around me.”

She nodded.

His hands went beneath her hips to lift. “Hold on tight don’t look
down.”   Her dainty arms went around his neck, and she clung to him
like a frightened child.

“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”

“Yes.”

“Will we make it?”

He hesitated, then drew in a steadying breath. “I hope.” Slowly,
carefully he made his ascent.

Having her soft, feminine form pressed to his, her delicate arms wrapped
gently around his neck was a dangerous distraction. He was scared. Scared he
would make a misstep. Scared she would get spooked and panic, causing them both
to plunge to their deaths.

Her warm breath fanned his ear. The pounding of her thundering heart kept
a tempo with his own. The rope abraded his palms and he cursed with each inch
they ascended.

By the time they reached the top, his body was slick with sweat, every
muscle taut with tension. His body began to tremble as fear and exhaustion gave
way to anger. She could have been killed. Hell, they could have both been
killed! Now he felt like wringing the little fool’s neck.

Yet at the same time, he only wanted to hold her tightly, to keep her
crushed safely against him. He didn’t want to care for this woman but he did.
Now he had a bad feeling about this. 

The moon, almost full and a brilliant orange-yellow began to crest the
canyon rim. Darkness that once blanketed a deathly quiet, purplish landscape
gave way to a filmy blue haze. Still on their sides bound together by the rope,
he lay with her a moment, trying to steady his breathing and calm his
disturbing thoughts.

“You could have been killed.” He reached up to brush a few strands of
hair from her blood-smeared face.

She gave a half laugh. “Death would be a better fate than being handed
over to Frank Cole.”

Why would she not disclose the truth about her connection to Cole? If it
were true that she wasn’t his niece, why did she look so much like the young
woman in the sketch Cole posted in the Territory? And how had she acquired
information about Cole? He was still convinced she was hiding something else.

After untying the ropes that bound them together, he sat back, accessed
her wounds again. She tried to sit. “No, lie still.” He reached into his vest
pocket for a handkerchief. Leaning down he wiped away the trickle of blood from
beneath her nose.

* * * * *

Halle snatched the handkerchief from his hand. “I can wipe my own nose,
thank you.” She blotted the wet, sticky mess.

The scrapes on her knee and elbow burned. Every bone in her body ached.
Even the roots of her hair throbbed as if every last follicle had nearly been
yanked from her scalp. She tried to sit up again but a sharp pain in her left
hip forced her back down. Holy crap! She hadn’t felt like this since the
morning after her jaunt back in time.

“Lie still.” He shoved up from the ground and moved away.

Max sniffed at her, checking her out from head to toe. “I’m all right,
little buddy. I just need a band-aid or two.”  She sighed. How would she
ever get out of this mess? Frank Cole had apparently figured out she and Molly
were blackmailing him and that’s why he’d been coming to Elena’s. He’d kill her
if Whitehorse turned her in for the reward. She had to convince him not to
deliver her into Cole’s clutches.

He brought a blanket and covered her legs. “This will keep you warm
until I get a fire started.”

 In the half-light of the moon Halle watched him move about,
searching for firewood. Her eyes followed his shadowed form until it
disappeared into the darkness and the sound of his foot falls were heard no
more. Chilled, she burrowed beneath the warmth of the heavy black and grey
blanket.

He returned a few minutes later with an armload of twigs and dry brush.
Soon, acrid white smoke filled the crisp night air. The warmth from the small
fire was welcome since temperatures in the canyon had dropped considerably in a
short time. She watched him empty his canteen into a small pan, then set it on
the coals.
Great.
We must be having some type of god-awful dried
animal meat soup again.

He returned to her side. Without warning, he threw the blanket off.