The Cowboy And The Debutante (7 page)

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Authors: Stella Bagwell

BOOK: The Cowboy And The Debutante
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She gasped as he lifted her up and into his arms. “Miguel! What—are you doing?”
“Where is your bed?”
His body was warm, his eyes dark and hooded. As Anna's gaze met his she felt what little strength she had left draining away. Even if she'd wanted to she couldn't have fought him. But oddly enough she didn't want to resist him. The iron strength of his arms was like a haven, a place she never wanted to leave.
“Why?” she asked huskily.
“Because I'm going to carry you there,” he murmured. “And don't tell me you don't need me. I'm not in any mood to hear it.”
Oh, Anna needed him all right. But not in the way he believed. She needed him to hold her, love her, reaffirm to her that she was a wanted woman.
But Miguel
didn't
want her. Not in the same way she was wanting him. He simply felt beholden to take care of her because of her parents.
Oh, dear God, she prayed as he carried her through the living room and down the hallway to the bedrooms. What was she going to do now?
In the darkened hall, she pointed out the door to her room. Miguel carried her through it, then across the plush carpet to a queen-size bed. After laying her gently atop the quilted blue coverlet, he straightened and looked down at her.
“I really think I should stay here tonight, Anna.”
She stared at him with wide eyes, while inside the word
no
clawed to get past her throat. But to her horror she swallowed the protest down, then slowly nodded.
Chapter Five
T
he alarm clock buzzed like a pesky fly in Anna's ear. She swatted at it, missed the button and knocked the whole thing to the floor. Thankfully the noise ceased and she dared to open her eyes.
The room was still pitch-black. What time had she set that dam alarm for, anyway? Leaning up on one elbow, she peeked at the glowing numerals and instantly let out a loud groan. Every muscle in her body felt as though it had been stretched to the limit, then beaten with a club. And her hands! They were both so stiff it was impossible to close her fingers against her palms.
The bandages brought Miguel instantly to her mind and with him a sweep of heat through her entire body. She could only thank God he hadn't been able to read her thoughts last night. Otherwise she didn't think she could ever face the man again. As it was, he'd not guessed the flare of attraction she'd felt for him last night when he'd carried her to bed.
When he'd told her good-night and that he'd be in the guest bedroom if she should need him, she'd felt such a knife of disappointment she didn't know how she'd kept it from her face. And then embarrassment had settled in.
How could she have thought, even for a moment, that he would consider making love to her? The man didn't even like her!
Closing her eyes, she groaned again. Her body and her pride might be bruised, she told herself, but she couldn't continue to lie in bed and wallow in self-pity. She had to get up and get going. The horses would be hungry and pawing to be let loose from their stalls.
As another thought struck her, she glanced toward the closed door of her bedroom. She'd slept so soundly last night, she didn't know if Miguel had actually stayed here in the ranch house as he'd promised. He might have decided she could fend for herself and gone on up the mountain to sleep in his own bed.
Tossing back the covers, she hurriedly reached for her robe. Five minutes later she entered the kitchen, expecting to find Miguel already cooking breakfast and accusing her of being lazy. But the room was empty.
The smell of coffee still lingered in the air, and she walked over to the pot on the counter. She was reaching for a clean cup when, from the corner of her eye, she spotted a small note pinned to the refrigerator.
Forgetting the coffee for a moment, Anna slipped the square of paper from under a magnet of bananas and read: “Anna, I've headed back to the roundup. As soon as I get there I'll send back a couple of men to help you. Miguel.”
Anna flipped the paper over, but there was nothing written on the other side. Not that she expected more than what he'd said. But he could have at least mentioned when he would be back.
You don't need to know when the man will be back.
He wasn't her boss, Anna firmly reminded herself. She didn't need him to tell her how to take care of a barnful of horses. From the time she'd been old enough to walk, she'd been on or around the animals. Throughout her growing-up years, Anna had wanted only to stay on the Bar M and help her mother train and race.
But her parents and everyone else had told her how brilliant she was at the piano. And how it would be such a shame to waste all that talent. And raising and training horses was a physically demanding job. Playing the piano was a much more refined profession.
The memory of those early years put a grimace on Anna's face as she poured herself a mug of coffee and carried it over to the kitchen table. Refinement had never been her cup of tea, but she'd made herself give up her tomboyish pleasures. She'd tried to convince herself she was a lady of the arts, not a cowgirl. She'd put aside her own desires and done what was expected of her. And now here she was years later with a chance to fulfill her lost dream. Even if it was for only a month's time.
The mug in Anna's hand stopped halfway to her lips. Was that what her mother and father were actually doing? she wondered. Giving her the chance to see what she had in her piano career and what she'd missed here on the ranch?
She'd told her mother she was going to use her time here on the Bar M to try and figure out what she wanted to do with her life. Well, she would. And maybe she would find out that music was her one and only calling. But first she had a foreman to deal with. And she was going to gain his respect even if it killed her!
 
The cool evening wind rushed past Anna's face and whipped her red hair into a flag behind her as she urged the chestnut Thoroughbred around the circle of dirt track.
She could feel the joy of running in the animal beneath her and Anna absorbed his pleasure. She gave him the bit of rein he was begging for, then laughed with pure delight as his lope became an all-out gallop. With her seat off the saddle and her head against his neck, she urged him to give her everything around the half-mile track.
Anna didn't notice the man on the hill until she'd pulled the horse up and stood tall in the stirrups. As the horse snorted and danced with the urge to keep running, she sawed on the reins and watched Miguel stride off the hill as if a thunderstorm was right behind his shoulder.
Anna forced the horse to walk rather than run around the track one more time, then pulled him to a halt where Miguel stood waiting for her.
“I see you made it in earlier tonight,” she said. “How did things go out at roundup?”
“Things went fine at roundup. I came in early to check on you, and looks like it's a damn good thing I did. What are you trying to do? Kill yourself?”
From the look on his face, Anna got the impression he was itching to reach up and drag her off the Thoroughbred. And for one hysterical moment, she wondered what was keeping him from doing it. He wasn't a bashful man. Nothing he could do would surprise her.
“I'm not suicidal,” she told him coolly. Then, jumping to the ground, she began to lead the hot horse up the hill toward the stables.
Miguel cursed beneath his breath as he was forced to follow. “It sure as hell looked like it to me. What were you doing on this horse? This is one of Chloe's best runners.”
“I know. Isn't he wonderful?”
He looked over at her and was bewildered to see a smile on her face. Not just a hint of one, but an all-out full-of-pleasure smile. And to think a damned horse had put it there. He would never understand this woman.
“Wonderful!” he growled. “If you'd fallen off at the speed you were going it would have snapped your neck like a dry twig!”
She laughed, and if anything, Miguel's expression grew even darker.
“I haven't fallen off a horse since I was six years old,” she assured him. “And that only happened because Adam was being pesky and stuck a hotshot to my pony's rump to make him buck.”
“Well, this animal—” he gestured to the steaming, snorting horse between them, “is not a pony. And furthermore, I don't ever want to see you on another racehorse again!”
Anna's mouth flew open, then clamped shut. She stalked on up the hill and attached the horse to a mechanical walker. Once he was moving at a cool-down pace, she headed over to Miguel who had stopped and waited for her at the open door of the stables.
With the bridle slung over her shoulder, bits of alfalfa clinging to her long braid, and horse hair and sweat staining the inner legs of her worn jeans, she looked as though she belonged here on the Bar M, as if this was the life she was meant for. But Miguel knew there was another side to her. And this image he was seeing now was only a momentary break from her real world.
“I think,” she began in a cold, gritty voice, “you'd better understand right now that you don't give me orders. Of any kind.”
Miguel's jaws clamped with anger. “Do you think I'm going to stand around and let you jeopardize your own safety and that of Chloe's horses, just because you get the whim to play jockey? If you do think that, then you're far more foolish than I ever imagined!”
Anna had thought she'd felt fury before. The rage rising up in her was thick, black and choking. It was all she could do to keep from striking him. But her long years of hiding her true emotions were enough to keep her fists clenched at her sides.
“Apparently you've slept too hard, Mr. Chavez, or you would remember that Chloe left me in charge of the horses.”
“I'm aware of that,” he snapped. “But she didn't mean to give you a free rein! Literally!”
Anna's chin lifted with challenge. “And who did you think was going to do the galloping? Those two cowboys you sent back to the ranch to help me?” She laughed as though the idea was the height of absurdity. “They both weigh close to two hundred pounds, and neither of them have ever been on a racehorse. Nor do either of them want to be. They were so scared of being kicked or pawed, I was barely able to talk them into giving the animals a bath!”
“I'll deal with the two men. As for the galloping, you could hire some boy from The Downs in Ruidoso to do it for you.”
“But there's no need for that when I'm here. My mother entrusted me to do it. And I'll not disappoint her.”
Miguel's angry expression turned to one of shocked disbelief. “Your mother knows you were going to gallop? I don't believe it!”
Anna's nostrils flared as she tried to control her temper. “She gave me careful instructions over the phone for each horse. So now that we've got that settled, maybe you'll let me finish my work.”
As Anna started to step past him, Miguel reached out and snagged her by the forearm. She pinned a hard glare on his face, then deliberately dropped her gaze to his brown fingers clamped into her soft skin.
“I don't believe you! Chloe wouldn't want you risking your neck—”
Her eyes flew back to his. “Do you think my mother risks her neck when she gallops?”
“No. Your mother has ridden for years. She knows all about high-strung Thoroughbreds. Whereas you—”
“Only know how to play the piano for an audience,” she finished for him. A mocking smile tilted the corners of her lips. “Well, there's a lot more to me than what you think you see.”
Her icy confidence goaded Miguel as nothing else had. He tugged on her arm, and she lurched forward. Before she could regain her balance, his thumb and forefinger clamped around her chin and forced her body to lean into his.
“And there's far more to me than you'll ever know, Miss Anna Sanders,” he muttered roughly. “So don't push me! I am the foreman on this ranch. Not you! I am the one who will have to answer to your parents if you wind up in the hospital with a broken neck!”
Her gaze rapidly scanned his green-brown eyes, the angry, mocking lines bracketing his lips. Last night when he'd gently doctored her hands, she'd actually believed he was a compassionate man. What a misjudgment that had been!
“I should have known it was your own neck you were concerned about Not mine.”
“Damn right,” he muttered. “I learned a long time ago how you high-society girls work. The only thing you're concerned about is your own personal pleasure and to hell with anyone else!”
In spite of her efforts to stop it, angry color flooded her cheeks. “You have no right or reason to speak to me this way!”
Miguel's eyes dropped to her lips, and suddenly he was lost as to what they were saying, even to where they were. “I have no right or reason to do this, either,” he said, his voice dropping to a coarse whisper.
He tugged on her chin so the last few inches between their faces disappeared, then he captured the softness of her lips beneath his.
Incensed that he should want to kiss her after all the insulting things he'd said, Anna squirmed and groaned in protest, but his grip on her chin was like an iron claw. She brought her hands against his chest and shoved, then whimpered as pain shot through her sore palms.
The sound eventually penetrated Miguel's lost senses. Slowly he eased his lips away from hers, then, with his hold still on her jaw, he studied her flushed face.
“I don't know what it is you do to me, Anna. But whatever it is has to be bad.”
In spite of all he'd said and his wish to punish her, Anna could not resist the touch of his hand on her face, the strong circle of his arm around her shoulders. Bitter words had spilled from his lips, yet she had never tasted anything so sweet, so all consuming. It made no sense. No sense at all.
“Why is it bad?” she whispered, as her earlier anger was swiftly replaced with bewilderment. “Because you don't like being human?”
“No. Because I don't like being reminded—”
He broke off suddenly, and Anna felt a great disappointment as a shutter fell over his face. Like him, she did not understand why she wanted to slap him one moment, then make love to him the next But she wanted to understand. She wanted to know what was really behind his dark, handsome face, his shadowed eyes.
“Of her?” Anna ventured quietly.
He looked at her blankly for a few moments, and then his head shook slowly back and forth as he realized she meant his ex-wife. “No. Not of her. Of my own foolishness.”

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