Authors: Nan Ryan
“My lord, what on earth …?”
“Your playmates,” came El Capitán’s voice from over her shoulder. “Mescaleros burned the fort when the soldiers were pulled out during the war.”
Amy shook her head and sighed wearily. “I thought we would find comfort and safety when we got here.”
Luiz rope-reined the sorrel forward. “Maybe we will. Looks like they missed one of the officers’ quarters.” He pointed to the northwest.
Amy looked in that direction. At the base of the towering rock walls rising abruptly from the canyon floor, a lone building stood amid the fort’s ruins, its porch roof fallen, doors and windows missing. It looked like a mansion to her.
Inside, debris was strewn throughout the one room, a table was smashed into splinters, broken glass was scattered over the plank floor. But on opposite walls were narrow bunks, complete with worn mattresses. Luiz tossed their packroll on one of the cots and swiftly cleared away the clutter. He told Amy that, if she’d like a bath, a stream noted for its clear, pure water ran through the canyon alongside the fort.
Amy haughtily informed him that she was well aware of the
Limpia
and its crystal-clear water, but had no intention of taking a bath. His reply was a lifting of his wide shoulders as he turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Down to the Limpia to wash up.”
“But it’s getting dark.”
“I’m not afraid of the dark,” he told her, stepping out the door and walking away.
“I’m not either,” Amy assured him, flopping down on one of the cots and folding her arms over her chest as dusk settled over the silent, ghostlike fort. From outside she heard the neighing of the sorrel mare and the soft words of El Capitán. Then nothing.
She sat alone in the darkening officers’ quarters, feeling tense and on edge. Certainly she was not afraid of the dark. Never had been, even when she was a child. But here in this remote, destroyed fort, she was not actually safe. Apaches had been here before. Suppose they returned?
Amy remained seated on the cot for as long as she could, attempting to calm herself. They had, she reminded herself, ridden miles from Snake Tongue’s Chisos camp.
The recollection of the horrid chief made her spring from the bed, dash across the room, and fly out the door. Enough light remained of the dying day to find her way to the Limpia and Luiz. She considered calling out to him, thought better of it. If Indians were around, she didn’t want to alert them.
She reached the gurgling stream and followed its banks toward the sounds of splashing water. She stopped momentarily when she heard a horse nickering from around the next bend. Puzzled, she advanced cautiously and heard a man’s deep laughter.
Bottom lip caught between her teeth, Amy tiptoed curiously around the curving streambed. Circling a cottonwood, she stopped short and her lips fell open.
She couldn’t believe her eyes. The last traces of light revealed a laughing man and a nickering horse out in the deep center of the stream, swimming about like carefree children. Shaking her head, Amy watched as Luiz grabbed the mare’s long tail and the mare joyfully swam forward, towing him after her.
Luiz abruptly released the sorrel’s tail and disappeared beneath the surface of the water. Watching closely in the swiftly dying light, Amy grew nervous when long seconds passed and he did not emerge. So did the sorrel. The mare kept tossing her head, looking back over her shoulder, wondering what had happened to her new playmate.
All at once, up lunged Luiz out of the water, dark head and bare shoulders slicing the waters a foot ahead of the startled mare. He had dived down and swum between the mare’s churning legs, underneath her belly, and surfaced directly in front of her. Confused, the mare nickered nervously until Luiz wrapped his long arms around her wet, slippery neck and laughed.
The strange pair continued to play for a few more minutes, and Amy realized she was smiling foolishly as she spied on them. Her smile disappeared when, without a warning, Luiz swam to the bank, rose, and walked out of the water.
Stark naked.
The obedient mare followed her master out of the stream, and for the next five minutes man and mare stood in the last of the twilight, shaking the residue of water from their glistening bodies.
It was the man’s bare body that held Amy’s rapt attention. Wishing she could turn and run, afraid if she made a quick move she might attract his attention, she was forced to stand there while he lifted his long arms and swept the wet raven hair back off his face.
When he ordered the mare to pick up his discarded buckskins, Amy didn’t wait to see if the sorrel obeyed. As quietly as possible she turned and fled, waiting until she was around the bend before breaking into a run. Sprinting through the enveloping darkness, she reached the ruined fort, shot across the abandoned parade ground, and dashed anxiously into the officers’ quarters.
Choosing the first cot her eyes fell on, she dove into it, hurriedly spread the blanket over herself, and closed her eyes tightly.
Her heart was still pounding from the run when El Capitán came through the door. He paused just inside. Amy supposed he was looking her way, determining if she was asleep. When he moved, Amy inwardly sighed with relief. He was going to his cot across the room. She had not been caught.
Luiz did go to his cot, but he did not lie down. He removed the Colt from the waistband of his pants and laid it on the bunk. He mopped at his damp chest with his sleeveless buckskin shirt and stared at Amy.
Then, Indian-silent, he crossed the small room, leaned down, and tapped Amy on the shoulder. She bolted up, eyes wide, and found herself face to face with El Capitán. He stood there like an animal crouched to spring, his black eyes flashing in the darkness.
“I don’t like it when people spy on me,” he said in low, level tones.
Horrified, she replied nervously, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“Yes, you do,” he accused gently. Then: “If you want to see me naked that badly, I guess I’ll just have to oblige you.” His hands went to the laces of his buckskins.
“No!” she shouted. “Don’t you dare take off your pants!”
“Ah, is it
your
pants you’d like me to take off, Mrs. Parnell?”
“Stay away from me,” she hissed loudly.
“With pleasure,” he softly replied.
The next day was another long one, passed in strained silence. They descended out of the cool Davis Mountains, down the grassy sloping meadows. At sundown they stopped on a high, flat plateau and looked out over the barren deserts below.
Neither said a word. Both were aware that they would be home before another sunset. Just one more day of this forced togetherness and then it would end forever.
Anxious to reach Orilla, and knowing that their progress would be slow over the scorching desertland, they rode on long after the sun disappeared and the moon had risen. Keeping the mare to a slow, steady walk, they tediously edged their way home.
The next day was every bit as uncomfortable as they had supposed. By midmorning the desert was like a furnace, the dry, still air so hot they felt as if they were breathing fire. Luiz knew how to survive in the desert. By ten o’clock he had found them a sanctuary to den up in through the hottest part of the day.
Back on the trail by two that afternoon, the sun was still brutal, but they were determined to make it to Orilla by night. They had ridden but a mile when a great cloud of dust loomed on the northern horizon. Luiz pulled the mare up and squinted.
From the billowing cloud emerged a uniformed patrol. Shimmering in the heat thermals like a giant mirage, the uniformed troopers, out searching for the captain and Orilla’s mistress, thundered forward. At their head, leading the rescue operation, was the one-eyed Pedrico Valdez.
There was much shouting and joy and the first thing Amy knew, she was no longer atop the sorrel mare with Luiz. She was riding behind a young trooper on an iron-gray stallion. Clinging tightly to the soldier’s waist, she looked about and saw El Capitán astride a blood bay gelding. The faithful sorrel mare followed.
Amy quickly turned away. She was free of him at last. No more long hours enclosed in his arms atop a moving horse. No more sleepless nights lying beside him in the darkness. Her running away had proved successful after all.
In the past few days, the captain had made it clear that he no longer desired her. Good! Tonight she could sleep alone in her bed with half a dozen pillows and a silky top sheet and soft downy covers. And she wouldn’t be concerned that the door could not be locked.
It was sunset when Amy spotted the tall arched gates of Orilla looming against the pale lavender sky, and up the hill, the twinkling lights of the old Spanish-style hacienda.
Amy was almost as glad to see Magdelena as the stocky Mexican woman was to see her. Tears streaming down her brown cheeks, Magdelena drew Amy into a smothering, motherly embrace and thanked the Almighty in sobbing Spanish for sparing a life so precious, for returning this child of Orilla safely home.
After a sumptuous meal of which Amy ate little, she put up no argument when Magdelena ordered her upstairs for a hot bath, then straight to bed. Yawning, Amy took one last sip of coffee, rose, stretched, hugged Magdelena one more time, and left the big dining room.
Shortly after Amy’s departure, El Capitán, fresh from his bath in the bunkhouse, entered the hacienda’s wide corridor. He saw the lights in the dining room, heard voices, and assumed that Amy was having dinner.
Here was his opportunity to collect some of his clothes without having to ask her permission. The borrowed white trousers he wore fit his slim hips and long legs, but the shirt was too small. On his feet were the shredded moccasins he’d worn for the past week.
He stole quickly up the carpeted stairs and into the mastersuite. Inside, the room was empty. A lone lamp burned beside the turned-down bed. Luiz kicked off the dusty moccasins and walked, barefoot, into the spacious dressing room.
He removed the too-small shirt, tossed it aside, and was reaching for a fresh one when movement caught his eye. He swung around.
Amy stood in the doorway between the bath and the dressing room, her golden hair pinned atop her head, a large white towel wrapped around her body. Her blue eyes flashed fire.
Luiz was about to apologize for the intrusion. To tell her that if he had known she was in her room, he wouldn’t have come upstairs. To say that he was sorry and assure her it would never happen again.
But Amy didn’t give him the chance. So his remorse turned swiftly to anger when, jumping to conclusions, she said hotly, “If you had one ounce of decency, you wouldn’t have come here!”
Provoked, he replied, “If you had one ounce of honesty, you’d admit you want me here.”
“T
O HELL WITH YOU
!” she said heatedly. “I do
not
want you here. I never wanted you! Never!”
His ice-cold black eyes flashed with a predator’s intent and he advanced on her. “You are lying, Mrs. Parnell.”
Amy backed away, a hand clinging protectively to her covering white towel. “I am not lying!” She moved from the dressing room and into the mirrored bath. “Get out of here, damn you!”
“Not yet,” he said, looming tall and dangerous before her, “not quite yet.”
Realizing too late that she had foolishly goaded him, Amy quickly tried another tack. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that you startled me. Please, go. You don’t really want me so—”
“You’re right,” he said, stalking her until she was trapped against a mirrored wall, “but you want me, Mrs. Parnell.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. Was he totally insane? “Such appalling conceit,” she said, her anger flaring white-hot. “You actually believe that every woman—”
“Not every woman,” he cut in. He reached out and curled his long bronzed fingers around the top edge of her covering towel. “But you are one who does.”
“You wish!” she snapped, and clawed viciously at his intrusive hand.
Unbothered by her assault, Luiz gave the towel a forceful snap and watched as it fell open. Amy grabbed frantically at it, but he was quicker. He gripped both sides and framed her nakedness with the white towel, his black eyes glinting threateningly. He pulled her to him.
As Amy struck at him as best she could with her arms pinned inside, he said in a low, seductive voice, “Ah, Mrs. Parnell, you believe you’re fighting me, but you’re actually fighting yourself.” He felt the slash of her long nails draw blood on his right cheek, but continued speaking in the same calm tones. “You needn’t fret, sweetheart. I’ll give you what you want. What you need.”
Amy shouted, “I don’t want you. I do not need you!”
“You honestly feel that way?”
“Yes, damn you to hell, I do.”
He shook his dark head and told her, “I will have you crying out in ecstasy within the half hour, Mrs. Parnell.”
There was no time for thought or warning. Swiftly he gathered her closer with the towel, bent his dark head, and captured her open lips. The long, intrusive kiss began, and the smoldering sexual heat that always existed between them blazed to life. The kiss was penetrating, furious, overwhelming. Still, Amy valiantly struggled against the naked desire he so suddenly evoked in her. But his hot lips and probing tongue drew all the strength from her until finally she was motionless in his arms.
As the hot, harsh kiss continued, her bare breasts swelled, the hard-rising nipples pressing against his naked torso. The gold Sun Stone was caught between them, and it cut into her pale flesh.
Continuing to kiss her, Luiz lowered the white towel until it caressed only her hips. Arms freed at last, Amy neither fought him nor wrapped her arms around his neck. Her hands fell limply to her sides. Finally his lips lifted from hers but hovered there an inch above.
Amy said defiantly, “I don’t want—”
His mouth dipped back to hers, silencing her. Gripping the towel, he drew her pelvis flush against his own. Exerting pressure, then relaxing it, he drew her forcefully against him as he rocked his slim hips forward, then pushed her back as he withdrew, repeating the action again and again.