Bandit's Embrace (The Durango Family) (20 page)

Then she had a moment of sanity, saw a clear image of him in Monique’s arms; heard, through a closed door, sounds of passion and the creaking of a bed. She struggled out of his arms, readjusted her clothing. “You’re deliberately trying to make me forget the subject!” She waved her little whip. “I demand you tell me where you knew that woman! She looked at you last night like a hungry child with her nose pressed against a candy-store window!”

Bandit flushed and took out a small coin, flipped it over and over. “Let’s discuss something else, shall we? Like when are we setting our wedding date?”

Amethyst’s mouth dropped open. “Surely you can’t be serious!”

He put the coin back in his pocket, cocked his head in that devilish, crooked grin. “Oh, but I am.”

“You’ll marry me and sleep with her on the side, is that it? Don’t lie to me! I saw that look of guilt when I asked you where you had known her before!”

“Speaking of looks,” he said easily. “your eyes look like holes burned in a blanket. Obviously partying late doesn’t agree with you.”

The rage built in her. “How long do you intend to keep up this facçade?”

He took off his hat, scratched his head. “Sweet, I don’t even know what that word means; I’m just a poor old Texas cowboy. Now let’s stop growling like two hounds circling each other and go riding.”

At that point, she completely lost her temper and slashed him across the face with her riding crop.

He swore suddenly. Then he towered over her, grabbed both her wrists. The fury on his face was terrible to see, his eyes ice-blue, looking down at her, the quirt mark livid red across his cheek. “Sweet,” he said, his voice controlled and cold, “if you were a man, I’d have killed you for that!”

She had a sudden feeling he would never strike a woman, and her sureness made her bold. “Go ahead and hit me, you big bully!” she challenged.

“Don’t tempt me! ” His voice was very low. “If there was ever a spoiled brat who needed to be paddled, it’s you! If you think I’ll take this kind of treatment in our marriage without turning you over my knee, you’re in for a big surprise! ”

She struggled to pull away from him. “Nothing you do would surprise me, you—you saddle tramp! You rotten bastard!”

He started as if struck again. “You really know how to hurt me, don’t you?” And without waiting for an answer, he let go of her wrists, turned on his heel, and strode out.

She stood there, hearing his boots in the hall, then the slam of the door, the horse loping away.

Why did she feel so guilty when he was the one who had wronged her? After a long moment, she went to the door. She would go riding all right, riding alone to sort things out.

She called the maid and requested that the small stable boy bring her blood bay
Paso Fino
mare, Heartaches, to the house for her. Within minutes, the winsome child appeared with the mare.

“Manuel,” she asked, “did you see which way the
señor
of the yellow hair went?”

The child nodded and pointed. “He no take the regular trail,
señorita
, he cut across toward the west pasture.”

She felt uneasy. “Are you sure he went in that direction? You must be mistaken, Manuel. That’s where Papa keeps the old fighting bull.”

The little boy shook his head stubbornly. “No,
señorita,
I watch. That’s how he went.”

Santa María,
what now?
“Manuel, didn’t you warn him?”

The child raised his narrow shoulders helplessly. “The
señor
ride away very fast. His face look like thunder! I had no chance—”

“He was mad at me,” she said, grabbing the reins from his hand. “He doesn’t know about the bull. Someone needs to stop him. . . .” She looked around. The ranch yard was deserted, everyone busy except herself. She could hardly send a small child.

Actually the elderly animal had never hurt anyone. Of course, the Texan wouldn’t know that. He might shoot her papa’s pet and ask questions later if it charged him.

There was only one thing to do. She swung up into the saddle, gave the delicate mare her head, and, using her spurs, took off after Bandit at a dead gallop.

Amethyst took off after Bandit at a dead gallop, forgetting how angry she was with him.

I’m more concerned with the life of that animal than I am with the Texan’s, she told herself. After all, though the gunslinger wasn’t wearing a pistol, he probably had a saddle gun and a fighting bull could look dangerous. If he felt threatened, he just might shoot the old creature.

Half a mile ahead of her, Bandit rode at an easy lope, but his emotions moved at a dead gallop. His face still stung from the slash of her little whip.

He reached up to touch the mark. By damn! What in blue blazes was he gonna do about that saucy miss? He hadn’t realized she was as stubborn and hot tempered as he was, or that neither of them were willing to give an inch. Well, if she wanted a fight, he’d give her one! He hadn’t gone through all this to let her scare him off. Bandit ran the tip of his tongue over his lips as he rode along, remembering the taste of her mouth.

My little wild flower
—he grimaced—
I’m beginning to wonder if you’re worth all the trouble you’re putting me
through?
He’d always been a ladies’ man, and this ornery filly was the first one who hadn’t thrown herself into his arms. That alone made her a real challenge.

He slowed the stallion to a walk, looked around. The scent of claret cup cactus blooms and sagebrush drifted on the warm breeze. Thorny, impassable thickets of mesquite and creosote bush grew off to his left. He’d been too furious to take the trail straight back to Falcon’s Lair, and had cut through a gate and across unfamiliar territory.

Blue Eyes’ ears went up and he snorted. Bandit reined in and listened to something crashing through the thick brush.

Indians or wild Javelina pigs with razor-sharp tusks?
Bandit grabbed for his pistol. Damn! He’d not expected to need it, hadn’t worn it. He didn’t even have a saddle gun. He cursed himself for his carelessness as he watched the brush, wondering whether to hightail it out of there.

A giant black bull emerged from the thorny barrier, then stopped, staring back at him with fathomless black eyes. It twitched its tail, rattled the ring in its nose and the short length of chain hanging from it.

Apprehension made Bandit’s stomach knot up as he recognized the breed. This was no ordinary bull but one bred for the arena. Even though the gray on its muzzle told him it was an old animal, the scars on its hump told him this bull had been fought. That made it dangerous even though it might be old. He didn’t know much about bullfighting, but he did know the animals were supposed to learn so much in that one time in the ring, they could be very dangerous to men if they were allowed to live.

If he only had a rifle
. . . Those pointed horns could gut the spotted horse, and when Blue Eyes went down, Bandit would be at the bull’s mercy. Maybe he could ease away without the giant animal ever seeing him.

“Blue Eyes,” he whispered, “let’s get the hell out of here. You back up and then hightail it like a dog that’s smelled supper cookin’!”

But at that moment, the bull seemed to scent them. It pawed the ground, snorted, and charged. The stallion seemed unusually terrified of the beast. It threw its head up and whinnied as Bandit fought to turn it and gallopaway.

It took all his skill to remain in the saddle as the pinto stumbled. The big bull brushed past them, narrowly missing the horse with its gleaming, sharp horns.

“Easy, boy!” Bandit yelled, but the frightened pinto neighed and reared up, then turned to run. The bull turned, charged again. With great skill, Bandit reined the horse so that the bull’s horns missed him again, but its great shoulder hit the horse a glancing blow. The stallion stumbled again and went down. Bandit freed his left foot and jumped clear to keep from breaking a leg as the horse fell heavily in the dust.

Stunned, Bandit lay in the dirt, feeling blood running down his forehead. The horse stumbled to its feet, then galloped away, reins flapping.

The bull paused to stare after the horse. Evidently, it was a little nearsighted and could no longer see the disappearing stallion. Slowly, it turned around, snorting and pawing the ground. Its sharp hooves threw up dust that settled on its scarred hump.

Bandit lay very still, hardly daring to breathe. He’d worked around cattle most of his life, and he knew it wasn’t true that bulls charged with their eyes closed, nor did they charge at the color red. They would charge at anything that moved, and surely the great beast could see him on the ground.

He felt cold sweat intermingling with the blood on his forehead as he lay there. Don’t panic, he warned himself. All it would take was one move to have two tons of black death right on top of him. He’d seen a cowboy gored to death by an old range bull one time; it had been a horrible sight. And the fact this was a bull bred for the arena made it twice as dangerous as an ordinary longhorn. Certainly Blue Eyes had been terrified enough to run away. Why?

Was there a tree nearby he could climb up into? Bandit wanted to get up and run, but he forced himself to lie still, knowing he was too stunned to move fast. Besides, the nearest mesquite tree wasn’t tall enough to get him out of the bull’s reach.

Now the beast hesitated, sniffing the air, smelling the scent of blood and man. It looked a little confused as if Bandit were not the prey it sought. Bandit lay very still, struggling not to cough on the dust churned up by the sharp hooves.

You big black devil, he thought as he stared into the fathomless eyes. From here, he could smell the rank scent of the bull, hear its heavy breathing.

The animal put its head in the air, sniffing the breeze. The chain in its nose ring rattled. Its tail flicked back and forth. The sun reflected off its long horns, sharp as knives.

What a helluva way to die, Bandit thought, to be impaled on those. He wondered if the bull had ever killed a man before and just what it was doing wandering the pastures of the Durango ranch? No one had said anything about Amethyst’s papa raising fighting bulls. Plump, kindly Durango didn’t seem the type.

He lay very still, listening to the stallion’s hoofbeats fading in the distance. The horse had greatly feared the bull, and that was something Bandit couldn’t understand. Had Don Enrique never used the stud to work cattle? Had the stallion had a run-in with a bull as a colt?

Bandit had never felt so thirsty in his life, but he was afraid even to lick his dusty lips. Only a couple of minutes had passed, but every heartbeat seemed like a lifetime. Would the bull never decide whether to charge or go away?

He thought he must be hearing things. As he lay there in the hot sun, watching the bull, it seemed that hoofbeats were approaching. Had the stallion turned around? Come back? Who else would be coming this way?

Cautiously, he turned his head just a little to see Amethyst on a dainty blood bay mare loping toward him. Now he forgot about himself. He couldn’t let her ride into danger, even though he was desperate for help.

He scrambled to his feet. “Aimée, look out! The bull! Get the hell out!”

The movement was all the black devil needed. It pawed the dirt and charged Bandit even as he saw Amethyst’s startled face, realized she had taken in the scene at a glance.

Instead of turning her horse away, she spurred the startled mare sharply, galloped straight for him. “Grab on, Texas!”

Damned stubborn girl! But he reached up as she thundered past, caught her saddle horn, swung up behind her. The bull paused, evidently confused. And Amethyst expertly turned her mare, galloped away.

Bandit heaved a sigh of relief, and hung onto her slim waist as the mare loped back up the trail. He turned to look behind him.

The old bull sniffed the air, looking puzzled. Then it went back to munching grass like a gentle old milk cow.

“Well, if that don’t beat all!”

Amethyst didn’t answer but slowed to a canter until they passed through the gate. Bandit slid off, closed it behind him. Only now did he feel the stiffness of strained muscles, bruised skin. “Much obliged for the rescue.” He looked up at her. “That hunk of beef was about to stomp a hole in me.”

She looked down at him coldly and held out her hand. He caught it, swung up behind her. “I didn’t do it for you,” she snapped. “I did it for Papa’s bull. When I spotted the open gate, I thought you might have come this way. I was sure of it when Blue Eyes thundered past me.”

“Never saw him bolt that way. Strange,” Bandit mused. He had both hands on her waist now. He could feel the heat of her through the pale lavender riding outfit. Her waist was so small, he could almost span it with his two hands.

“Don’t do that,” she snapped.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Texas, you know what I mean. Stop running your hands around my waist.”

God, she felt good! “I don’t have the faintest notion what you’re palaverin’ about.” He wondered what she could do if he leaned forward, pushed her hair up, kissed the back of her neck?

“Like hell you don’t!”

He thought about it a moment, couldn’t resist. He pressed himself against her back, nuzzled along her neck. It was soft as satin, and smelled of wild violets.

“Texas, stop that!”

“Stop what?” He nibbled up and down her neck, kissing her hair.

“I—I said . . . don’t do that.” She sounded a trifle uncertain, and he heard her sigh. At that point, he forgot all caution. His hands slid upward to cup her breasts, began to fumble with the tiny buttons of the elegant riding habit.

His hands felt so good, stroking. She wanted to let him undress her, tease her nipples.
Santa María!
What was she thinking? She had to stop him!

“Dammit, Texas! Stop pawing me like I was a saloon whore!” She turned in the saddle, gave him a resounding slap that knocked him off the horse.

“By damn, lady, I’ve had enough! You think I’m goin’ to be enough of a gentleman to just let you keep hittin’ me?” Before she could guess his intention, he reached up and caught her arm, dragged her from her horse.

“Let go of me, you dirty cowboy!” She fought back, but he dragged her over to a nearby rock, sat on it, jerked the back of her skirt up.

“If you ain’t gonna act like a lady, I’m not gonna treat you like a lady!” He proceeded to paddle the back of her lace drawers thoroughly.

She screamed and fought him while his big hands stung her small bottom. Never had she been so humiliated! She managed to turn her head, bite his thigh.

Now he yelled and jumped to his feet, dumping her unceremoniously in the dirt. “You little vixen! Try to bite my leg off at the knee, will you?”

Never had she felt such fury. She scrambled to her feet, swinging wildly with her fists, cursing him in border Spanish.

“Nice young ladies don’t talk like that,” he scolded, retreating before her onslaught, throwing his hands up before his face to protect himself.

“Filthy hombre, you’ll think ‘nice young’ lady!” She pummeled him with both fists while he backed away. “I save your life and this is what I get!”

He caught both her small hands in his big ones. “You liar! You just got through tellin’ me you were saving your papa’s damned bull!”

Immobilized, she glared up at him. She wouldn’t admit even to herself that she’d been riding after Bandit to apologize for hitting him with her whip when she’d seen the open gate. “Satanás is a pet. He has the run of the ranch! Now let go of me!”

But he only smiled down at her, and for a moment she thought he would bend his head and kiss her. “The Durangos let a dangerous old bull like that run loose?”

If he tried to kiss her, would she fight him or would she cling to him, open her lips? She wasn’t sure, so she only shrugged. “I swear he’s harmless as a milk cow, never saw him charge anyone before.”

Bandit slowly turned loose her hands. “Harmless!” He laughed. “That animal was about to stomp me flat! But I’d swear it was my horse he was after. Anyone on the ranch mistreat that bull?”

She looked up at him, incredulous. “You must be joking! Papa would fire the man who did that! The animal is
indulto
, pardoned from the arena after a noble fight. The bull’s owner gave him to Papa as a gift.”

“Reckon you should pen him up then, where he won’t go after some unwary cowboy.”

She turned back to her horse, swung up into the saddle. “I’ll have one of the vaqueros move him to that big pen next to our barn.” She felt a slight smile curl her lips as she looked down at him, thinking of a perfect revenge. Bandit was afoot and wearing high-heeled cowboy boots. It would be a long, miserable walk back to the hacienda in this heat. “And now, cowboy,
adiós!
I’ll see you back at the ranch.”

“You wouldn’t leave me to walk all the way back?”

“Wouldn’t I?” Her bottom still smarted from his spanking. She had a feeling that when she turned her back to the mirror in her bedroom and pulled down her underwear, she’d see big, red handprints. “You just watch me!” She kneed her
Paso Fino
mare and started off at a walk.

Behind her, he moaned, and she turned, looked back.

He had gone to one knee. “I—I think I was hurt when I fell from my horse.”

“Texas, you liar!” She hesitated.

His hand trembled noticeably as he gestured. “No, you go on. Maybe I won’t faint out here in the heat. Maybe this hurt leg will get me back to the ranch before I die of thirst.”

“It’s not even a mile! Don’t be so dramatic!”

He didn’t answer, but seemed to try to get to his feet, then pitched forward on his face, lay still.

Suppose he really had been hurt? “Texas? Texas, dammit, answer me!”

No answer. He lay on his face in the dirt.

He was playing possum, that was all, to fool her into coming back. “You can’t fool me! I’m leaving. Walk back when you get around to it!”

She turned her horse back up the trail. “You hear me, Texas? That act doesn’t fool me!”

No answer.

She reined in, looked over her shoulder. He lay on his face, still as death, the sun glinting off the light hair.
Oh,
Santa María!
Suppose he really was hurt? “Texas?”