Nan Ryan (15 page)

“No.” He loosened his hold on her. “But I’m beginning to think you would.”

While she hotly protested such an outlandish idea, Virgil picked her up, set her back atop the gray mare. She continued to talk a mile a minute, threatening him, scolding him, assuring him she wanted
nothing
to do with him. Finally he laid a hand on her trousered left leg, just above the knee, and squeezed gently until she finally fell silent.

“That’s better.” He patted her knee almost affectionately. “You behave, I’ll behave.” She sighed loudly, grudgingly nodded. “Good. I’ll say it again. We have a long, hard journey before us.”

16

Virgil Black had no idea
, when he made the simple statement, just
how
long and hard a journey. A long and hard journey of discovery had begun for the pampered princess and the world-weary Ranger captain.

The princess, cherished and coddled from birth, was, by her own admission, headstrong and spoiled and selfish and demanding. And why not? From infancy she had thought first and foremost of herself and no one had ever objected. On the contrary, they had encouraged it. So naturally she had taken worship as her due, had thoughtlessly treated everyone as a loyal subject meant to do her bidding. Before coming to America, she had never, in her twenty-eight years, met the man or woman who was not eager to please her, to grant her every wish. Growing up in such a privileged, hothouse environment had molded an adult with the mature body and alluring beauty of a woman who was, in many ways, as naive and demanding as a child.

The princess couldn’t hope to understand the Ranger’s behavior. She had not yet learned that Virgil Black was not the kind of man to do anyone’s bidding. As hard and ungiving as the harsh Texas deserts he called home, Black was a rugged loner who had raised himself by himself. A lonely child, he had grown up to be a cynical man who expected and was given nothing. He had made his own way, in his own way. He had spent his entire adult life outwitting bandits and thieves and cheats and liars.

He respected few men. Fewer women. The women Virgil had known were not ladies. And the ladies he had occasionally met, turned out to be mere women once he got them alone. He treated them all the same. They
were
all the same to him. He had made love to many women, but he had never been in love. And he was certain he never would be. More than one discarded lover wept that Black’s heart, like his well-honed body, was as hard as marble. Others said he had no heart. And perhaps he didn’t. Or maybe he had purposely hardened his tender heart when he was still a boy so that no one could ever hurt him again.

Virgil Black kept his own counsel, shared his innermost thoughts and feelings with no one. He asked no quarter. And he gave none.

Nobody understood him.

Certainly not the self-absorbed princess Marlena of Hartz-Coburg. To her, the tall, dark Texas Ranger was an enigma. She had attempted to analyze his conduct and had found him to be a complete paradox. Try as she might, she could not fathom what was going on in his mind, couldn’t read what emotions—if any—lay behind those icy sea-blue eyes. A naturally curious woman, she couldn’t help wondering how he felt about her.

On the one hand, he treated her badly, ordering her about and acting as though she were a common prisoner who was nothing but trouble to him. On the other hand, he had, last night at bedtime, swept her up into his powerful arms and kissed her, obviously yearning to make love to her.

From past experiences, she had learned that any man who kissed her with even half the passion he had shown was helplessly in love with her. Could it be? Was the stone-faced Ranger already falling in love with her? It was certainly not out of the question. It would not be the first time a man had fallen so quickly in love with her.

But then, if that were the case, why was he so mean and hateful to her? Why did he refuse to acknowledge her when she made a small request or a sensible suggestion? Why did he ignore her when she issued a mild command? Why didn’t he try a little harder to please her? to woo and win her favor?

It was all so confusing, it gave her a headache. None of it made any sense to her.
He
made no sense to her. She had failed to convince him she was actually a visiting princess. He was inflexible in his certainty that she was a common thief. That being the case, how could he possibly be falling in love with her?

Well, what was the difference? She didn’t care if he loved or hated her. She didn’t plan on staying around him long enough to find out. She would escape him the first chance she got.

But for now, as the two of them wound their way slowly through the dense pine forest, she was grateful for his presence. He had told her that she would be glad he was leading her mare. He was right. She was. Although she would never have admitted it to him.

The ground clouds were so thick, she could hardly see her hand before her face, and she was growing increasingly nervous. Just being atop a horse was enough to make her jittery. Especially in these mountains. Although she loved the towering Tyrol of home, she had been, from childhood, afraid of heights. She had kept her eyes tightly closed anytime the royal coach transported her down the winding road from the cliffside castle.

Now, with thick, rolling mists swallowing her up, she was terrified the snorting, blowing mare might step into nothingness and the two of them would plunge off a craggy, fog-shrouded peak to their deaths.

Ducking tree limbs and squinting madly to see, the princess was suddenly plagued with a new worry. How she would ever find her way down out of the mountains if she were left there alone. It was such a disturbing thought, she quickly decided that she would, before she attempted any escape, question the Ranger at length about their proposed route to El Paso. She couldn’t just take off with no idea where she was going or how to get there. And, she would definitely wait until they were down out of the mountains to make her getaway.

In less than half an hour the clouds began to lift and dissipate. Soon, welcome shafts of slanted sunshine pierced through the thick pine branches. The princess gave a great sigh of relief. She impulsively leaned over and patted the mare’s sleek neck.

As she straightened, they emerged from the dense forest into bright, blinding sunlight. Virgil drew rein, bringing both horses to a swift halt. The princess’s eyes widened in disbelief, then quickly closed in horror. They were on an overhanging lip of rock high above a wide flat valley. She was sure that the horses’ hooves were but a few short feet from a sheer dropoff.

She didn’t scream. But it wasn’t because he had warned her about screaming. She was simply too frightened to make a sound. Paralyzed with fear, the princess couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

Unaware of her distress, Virgil slouched comfortably in the saddle as if he were in a rocking chair at home. His hooded eyes riveted to the striking scenery, he wound the reins loosely around the saddle horn and reached into his breast pocket for a cigarette. He struck a sulfur match with his thumbnail, then cupped his hands around the tiny flame and lit the cigarette. He drew the smoke deep into his lungs, then slowly released it.

The cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, his eyes squinted against the brilliant alpine sunshine, he continued to gaze out over the magnificent vistas before them.

Virgil liked it up here. Liked the sting of the wind on his face. Liked breathing the rarefied air of the high altitudes. Liked drinking in the breathtaking views afforded by this vantage point.

Without realizing he was doing it, Virgil had chosen to exit the pine forest here so that he could show his pretty prisoner this very special spot. Some of the most magnificent scenery in all New Mexico was visible from this high mountain promontory and he wanted her to see it.

Four thousand feet below, the wide Tularosa Basin stretched all the way to the vast Chihuahuan Desert and the Border. A parched desert with almost no water and no shade, the barren basin lay between two high mountain ranges: the towering Sacramentos on the basin’s eastern edge where they were now, and across the wide valley, the San Andres and Oscuros, deep blue shadows looming large on the western horizon, rolling southward to El Paso.

Virgil inhaled deeply of the cool, clear air and turned his head to see if she was enjoying the splendid sight as much as he. Expecting her to be at least a little awed by the dramatic panorama spread before them, he frowned when he saw that her eyes were closed.

“Jesus,” he swore, disappointed and irritated, “you sleepy?”

“N-no,” she choked.

“Then why the hell do you have your eyes closed?” “Afraid,” she managed weakly.

“Afraid? Of what?”

The princess swallowed with difficulty, and her racing heart tried to pound its way out of her chest. “Of … falling off … this … cliff.”

Virgil stared at her. “You afraid of heights?”

“Y-yes.”

“You are afraid of heights.” It was statement now, and his tone was cynical. “You, the royal ruler of a mountain monarchy?” He shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe anything you like!” She was on the verge of tears, “But get me down off this beast and away from the edge of this precipice!”

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Virgil said mockingly. He took one last drag off his cigarette, snuffed it out in the palm of his gloved hand, flicked it away into the wind, and swung down from the saddle. But when he stepped up beside her and saw how she was trembling, he softened a little. Laying a gentle hand on her trousered thigh, he spoke in a low, comforting voice. “It’s all right now, Red. I’m here. Right here. You’re safe. Just let go of the saddle horn, and I’ll help you dismount.”

Her throat aching with fear, her eyes still closed, she nodded, reluctantly released her hold on the saddle horn. When she felt his hands firmly enclose her waist, a shudder of relief raced through her. Still afraid to open her eyes, she anxiously grabbed at his shoulders and didn’t release him even when he set her on her feet. Instead, her arms slipped anxiously around him, and she clung to him as though she would never let him go, pressing her face against his chest, shaking and sobbing. Realizing just how frightened she was, Virgil didn’t tease her. He drew her close and held her, soothing her with soft-spoken words of reassurance.

“I’ve got you now,” he said in a low whisper. “I’ve got you, baby. I won’t let you fall.” The princess nodded against his chest and dug her fingertips into his back. He continued talking, consoling her with the calming cadence of his voice. “There’s no need to be frightened. You’re safe here in my arms.” He tightened his arms around her. “It is so beautiful up here, Red. Have you ever been here before?” No answer. But the fierce trembling was subsiding, she was beginning to relax against him. “If you haven’t, you really should have a look.” She hugged him more tightly, buried her face. He raised a hand, stroked her gleaming ginger hair. “Tell you what, you can stay right where you are. I’ll just turn you in my arms so that you can have a quick look. What do you say? Think maybe you could open your eyes if I promise not to move?”

“How close are we to the edge?” was her shaky reply, the words muffled against his chest.

“Not that close, but we can move back even farther.” With that he began to walk slowly backward, bringing her with him. When he stopped, he told her, “Now we’re a long way from the edge. I wouldn’t lie to you. Open your eyes and see for yourself.”

Reluctantly lifting her head, the princess allowed him to slowly turn her about so that she was facing the same way he was. His arms remaining around her, his jaw brushing her temple, he coaxed, “Look, Red, from here you can see for a hundred miles.”

The princess cautiously opened her eyes. He hadn’t lied to her about being back away from the cliff’s edge. They were standing a good ten yards from the rocky rim. The horses had followed, were now behind them at the edge of the trees, contentedly cropping grass.

Feeling more secure, the princess cautiously eased out of Virgil’s arms. But she wasn’t ready to completely let go of him. Standing close beside him, she clung tenaciously to his shirtsleeve as she gazed out at the breathtaking vistas. Awed by the dazzling beauty of the place, she blinked, lifted a hand to shade her eyes, and stared at the hazy blue mountains on the horizon, then lowered her gaze to the wide, desertlike valley far below. Her fingers gripping Virgil’s shirtsleeve, she peered in childlike wonder at a faroff strip of the basin at the base of the distant western mountains. She couldn’t believe her eyes. It was covered with pristine white snow! How very odd, she thought, that snow would have fallen on the warm flat land when there was none here on the mountains where they were.

“Look!” she exclaimed excitedly, “there’s snow way down there in the valley!”

Virgil chuckled. “That’s not snow.”

“Not snow? But it must be, it’s—”

“It’s sand.”

“Sand?” She looked up at him with questioning eyes. “But it’s as white as—”

“Sugar,” he finished for her. “Yes, it is. The White Sands of New Mexico. They stretch north and south for miles. You’ll see when we get closer.”