Bandit's Embrace (The Durango Family) (21 page)

When he still didn’t answer, she wheeled the dainty mare, rode back, looked down at him. “Texas, answer me!”

He raised his dusty face with pronounced difficulty. “Water,” he gasped. “Oh, I’m hurt, aimée . . . water . . .”

“Oh, my God! You poor thing, and to think I was about to ride off!” She grabbed the canteen from her saddlehorn, swung down, knelt in the dust, turned him over.

“Water,” he gasped.

She gathered him into her arms, and he nestled his head against her breasts as she opened the canteen. “Here. Here’s some water.”

He groaned as he gulped it.

They were at least a mile from the ranch. What to do? “Bandit, I’ll leave you the canteen, go to the ranch for help.”

But he caught her arm, groaned again, and nuzzled deeper against her breasts. “Oh, don’t leave me, aimée, everything’s gettin’ dark . . . I reckon that old bull got me after all!”

“I thought you said the bull never touched you?”

“Did I say that? I reckon I was mistaken.” She felt his hot breath through the cloth as he nuzzled against her breasts.

Was he faking? How could she know for sure? If he was really hurt, she had to get help. Amethyst stood up suddenly. “I’ll go for help.”

“Don’t leave me,” he gasped out. “I’ll probably die while you’re gone.”

“I said I’d bring help.” She swung upon the mare. “Can you manage until I get back?”

No answer. He lay on his back now, eyes closed.

“Texas, are you all right! Answer me!”

He came up off the ground with all the grace and speed of his Indian ancestors before she could react. “I’ll answer, you sassy filly!”

He grabbed her ankle while she lashed him with the reins, tried to get away. Her startled mare snorted and stamped, but Bandit had her now, was pulling her off the horse. They both went down in a scramble of dust and lavender skirts.

“Damn you, Texas, damn you!” But before she could say anything else, his lips covered hers.

“You little devil! Thought you’d ride off and leave me to walk home, did you?” But his lips kept her from answering. “All’s fair in love and war, sweet, and I’m not sure which this is!”

“Well, I sure as hell know!” Before he seemed to realize what she was up to, she kneed him between the legs.

With an oath, he doubled up, clutching himself. She ran for her horse. But the startled mare took off running up the trail.

“Well, I hope you’re satisfied!” Arms akimbo, she looked from the man to the disappearing horse. “Now we’re both stranded!”

“You’ve just about destroyed my manhood and all you can think of is how far it is back to the house?” He said weakly, stumbling over to sit down in the shade of a big mesquite.

“Oh, stop whining!” she snapped, chasing a fly away from her face. “If you’d have behaved, all this wouldn’t have happened.” She strode over, flopped down in the shade next to him. “When the horses turn up in the yard, some vaqueros will come looking for us.”

“I reckon I owe you an apology, Amethyst,” he said earnestly. “I can’t help myself around you. You’re prettier than a speckled pup, and I can’t control myself when you get near me.”

She gave him an icy stare. “And just how many times have you used that line on women before?”

He grinned in that devilishly, lopsided manner. “Oh, a few dozen, I reckon. But this is the first time I’ve ever admitted it . . . or even meant it.”

She shrugged and lay back on the dry grass. “You need to carry a shovel with you.”

“What d’you mean?” He raised one roguish eyebrow.

“You know what I mean,” she said pointedly. “I feel like I’m up to my knees in an uncleaned stable.”

He lay down next to her. “I know what you think, aimée, but I’m loco over you. That’s why I’m involved in this masquerade. It isn’t for the money. I’ve got plenty of money. I could just ride off into the sunset with lots of cold cash.”

She turned her head, looked into his pale eyes. Foronce, he appeared to be sincere. “How do you expect me to believe you? All you
tejanos
are incredibly arrogant liars.”

He raised up on one elbow, looked down at her, winked. “That’s because we’re proud people. We were our own country for ten years before we became a state. That was a step down for us. We’re Texas proud.”

She frowned at him. “The Bible says: ‘The meek shall inherit the earth.’”

He grinned in that infuriating manner. “Maybe so, sweet, but the proud’ll get Texas!”

“Oh, you!” She tried to twist away from him but he caught her.

“I want you, aimée, and I intend to have you. There’s no way out for you unless you can convince your papa I’m a bad choice so he’ll let you break the engagement.”

“Awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“No, sweet, I’m sure of you,” he declared, and before she could stop him, he leaned over and kissed her, his lips gentle as the brush of a butterfly’s wing.

She raised her hand to slap him as his mouth moved against hers, opening her lips. She’d forgotten the taste of those lips, the sensation of his warm tongue probing between hers. The arm she reached up slowly went around his neck.

He leaned forward so that he was half lying on her. She could feel the hard heat of him all the way down her body, through their clothing.

His free hand stroked her breast and she felt it swell, the nipple go turgid beneath fabric and his seeking hand. She didn’t protest when his fingers reached for her buttons.

She lay there, eyes closed, feeling his fingers on her skin, then the warmth of the day against her naked breasts as he opened her bodice, bared her upper torso.

“Sweet, you have the most beautiful pair I’ve ever seen. And they’re mine-all mine.”

She didn’t answer, her eyes still closed as his head bent.

Was she insane? She should slap him, scramble to her feet, adjust her clothing, and start walking.

But then his warm, wet mouth closed over her breast and she forgot everything but the feel of his mouth sucking her nipple to a hard point, the heat of his hand pushing up her skirt.

“We—we should go back,” she whispered. “They’ll be looking for us.”

But his hand was inside the top of her lace drawers, pushing them down. “Let them look,” he said, “it’ll take them awhile to find us. Touch me, aimée, as I’m touching you.”

Very shyly, her hand reached for the buttons of his pants, freed his throbbing hardness. He groaned aloud at her touch, pressed against her. His maleness was hot and pulsating as she grasped it while he toyed and teased her femininity with his fingers. She could not stop herself from tilting herself up so that he could reach still deeper.

“I want to feel you all over,” he murmured, sitting up abruptly to unbutton his shirt. “Take your blouse off, sweet, I want to see you naked.”

She was shocked at the idea. “Naked out here in broad daylight? Suppose someone comes?”

He grinned, stood up, pulled off a boot. “It’ll take them awhile to find us, remember?”

It was the most forbidden, the most delicious idea she’d ever heard. She stood up, began to strip off her clothes.

In the distance, she heard a horse’s hooves. “Someone’s coming!” She clutched her clothes against her.

But Blue Eyes topped the rise, looking slightly chagrined as he trotted up.

Bandit laughed. “So you came back, old rascal! Aren’t you ashamed for being scared of that bull!” He turned and looked at Amethyst. “You ever been ridin’ naked?”

It was the naughtiest, most exciting idea she had ever heard. “
Santa María, no!
Have you?”

“Nope, but it sounds like fun!”

Even as she watched, he unsaddled the horse, turned to grin at her. “Let’s go, sweet.”

She paused only a moment, then hurried to pull the rest of her clothes off. He was right: They were in a deserted area of the ranch and it would be awhile before the vaqueros backtracked her horse.

Bandit stood grinning at her, as naked and virile as he’d been on the creek bank. She moved gingerly across the grass, barefooted. “This is a wild, loco idea.”

“Ain’t it, though?” He swung up on the horse, reached down for her.

She hadn’t realized he was so strong. His callused hands felt hot on her bare skin as he lifted her up before him, and the stallion felt like hot velvet between her thighs as she slid back to press against the man’s hardness.

He murmured in pleasure, his hands coming around to stroke her thighs, her breasts, while his face buried itself in the mop of hair falling down her neck. “Oh, sweet . . .”

“I thought you promised me a ride.” His fingers were cupping, stroking her breasts.

“You’ll think ‘ride,’” he whispered, his breath hot on the back of her neck. “Let’s get over there under that tree and—”

“Not yet!” She laughed, giddy with the naughtiness of what they were doing. This big Texan had a way of making her forget everything, do forbidden things she’d never dreamed of. Like riding bareback, both of them naked as the day they were born.

The big stallion felt warm against her thighs, under her small bottom. Bandit’s hands stroked her thighs, her belly, her breasts. He was hard up against her back, and she could feel the sinewy muscle of him all the way down, the maleness of him probing against her hips.

He clucked to the stallion and it started off in a circle at a slow lope, powerful and hot between her legs. No wonder men don’t like women riding astride, she thought, it gives them erotic fantasies.

She smiled to herself, thinking what a picture they must make loping along, two naked people on a barebacked horse. The stallion loped in an easy circle back to the mesquite trees.

Bandit reined it in, slid off, and held up his arms. “Come to me, sweet.”

Her body seemed to have a mind of its own. She slid off the horse into his arms in complete surrender. “Ride me, Texas, ride me.”

He swung her up in his arms, looked down at her. “Come here, little filly,” he whispered.

Letting the stallion contentedly graze, he carried her over to the shade of a big mesquite, lay her down on the dry, scented grass.

He kissed her closed eyelids, the hollow of her throat. She could feel his tongue warm and wet against the pulse of her throat as his lips slid down to kiss between her breasts. Now his mouth probed and sucked at the hollow of her navel.

“Texas, I—I want—”

“I know what you want, sweet Aimée,” he whispered and his lips moved lower still.

She felt a sudden horror as the heat of his breath blew against the dark triangle of her thighs. “No! Not there! Surely you don’t intend to kiss me there.”

But his lips were already there, his big hands reaching up to part her silken thighs. She tried to protest, but her words died on her lips, were replaced by a gasp of surrender as a delicious thrill swept through her. His teeth nibbled gently, his hot tongue sucked and stabbed . . . deep . . . deeper. . . .

Without thinking, her hand reached down to clasp his swollen, throbbing manhood; felt the virile drops of seed on her hands. And suddenly, to touch him wasn’t enough. She wanted to kiss him, taste him as he kissed her.

She moved to place her head against his groin. Did she really want to do that? Then his tongue probed within her and she wanted him as she had never thought she could want a man. Waves of feeling swept over her, inspired by his greedy, seeking mouth, and she spread her legs wide so her body was at his mercy. Then she took his swollen manhood in her lips, sucked gently. She wanted him, wanted all of him. His tongue seemed to be going to her very core. With wild abandon, she relaxed her throat, took him deeply. She felt him throb and shudder, releasing his seed in a warm stream even as she began to ride a crest of unbelievable thrills from what his mouth, his hands were doing to her.

What kind of wild, abandoned behavior was this? And then she didn’t think, didn’t care as she was swept away in the throes of passion.

Gradually, she became aware of things around her. Where was she? Why was she naked? Then as she looked up into his face, it all came back to her with a rush and he leaned over, kissed each side of her mouth. “Little wild violet,” he said. “You really can be wild, can’t you?”

Was he scolding her? Chiding her for her behavior? She felt her face flame, and turned away. But his hand reached to cup her chin, turn her to look up at him. “Don’t be ashamed,
Aimée
. I love you. We’ll be married.”

She sat up, reached for her clothes. The last few minutes came back to her with a rush of stunned reality. Had she really cavorted naked on the grass? Had she and this powerful, nude cowboy really ridden up and down the pasture on a horse?
Santa María!
What if someone had seen them? Hurriedly, she began to dress.

“What’s the matter?”

She couldn’t hold back the tears. “I—I don’t know. I’ve behaved like a regular tart, I guess. You must think me terrible!”

“I think you’re wonderful.” He took her in his arms, cradled her, half-naked, against his wide chest, kissed her tears away. “Once we’re married, we can do this all the time.”

Married. Half of her thrilled at the idea of waking up in Bandit’s arms every morning for the rest of her life. Then she shook her head.

“What’s the matter?”

This can never work, she thought sadly as she dressed. Something will go wrong; somehow the secret will get out. Someone else must know. “Texas, how did you know about the missing heir?”

He shrugged as he dressed. “It’s common knowledge, isn’t it? I—I just heard about it somewhere.”

He was lying. She knew it by his studied carelessness as he avoided her gaze, pulled on his boots. Someone else besides the two of them knew the secret, she thought with a chill, someone who could blackmail him or reveal it. It would be like living under a dangling sword, waiting for the information to leak out. And, in the meantime, suppose the real Tony Falcon showed up alive someday? What then?

Of course, Amethyst knew who the person who knew his secret was. “Texas, you never did tell me how you knew Monique.”

“Uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He reached into his pocket with studied carelessness, got a cigarillo, struck a match on the sole of his boot.