Heart of Thunder (28 page)

Chapter 31

“T
HIS is not the wedding night, Hank,” Samantha protested sleepily. “You missed your chance.”

“What does daylight matter between lovers?”

“Lovers? Lord!” she said, and tried unsuccessfully to push his hands away.

Hank laughed. He had awakened her with his hands. She had come out of her deep sleep to find them caressing her all over. She had thought she was dreaming, the sensations were so delicious. She had been shocked to find the hands real.

“Go ahead then.” She tried to put as much boredom into her voice as she could manage. “I know there’s no stopping you when you get like this. I’m tired of trying.”

“Do you hope to wound me with indifference?” Hank asked softly.

She met his gaze levelly, a frown creasing her brow. “Would it wound you? Would it really make any difference to you?”

Hank grinned down at her knowingly. “You would like to think so, eh? But it is pointless to speculate,
querida
. Your indifference cannot last. You know it as well as I.”

His lips caressed her softly. A few moments later, she thought she was being devoured by the ardor of his kiss. When the kiss ended, she was left wanting. Hank lay on top of her, his hands tight at her shoulders, his chest pressed to hers, his lips moving maddeningly down her neck.

She couldn’t fight his power. What was the point?
Somehow, he always managed to make her respond to him. He always managed to win. She let reason take over. After all, he was her husband. They were married. Her husband…husband.

She repeated this over and over in her head until Hank entered her and she moaned. She locked her legs over his hips, and met his thrusts wildly.

“
Mi marido
,” she was saying aloud, barely aware of it.

And then she clasped his head and bit his ear, not hard, but enough to make him aware of her. “You wanted me to remember,” she whispered before she thrust her tongue into that ear and felt him tremble in reaction. “You, too, will remember,
querido!
”

She kissed him with abandoned passion, and his increased wildly. He was a virile beast, and she loved it. She joined him in climax and descended with him, savoring everything.

But Hank was not finished. He took her again, as savagely as he had before, and as tenderly. She joined him, her nails caressing this time. Her hands were just as gentle as his, because at last she wanted to give pleasure as well as receive it. And she did.

It was not a time for wonder. Wonder would come later. Now Samantha only felt, felt and responded to Hank’s tenderness.

He was an amazing man, this handsome
bandido—
her husband. She slept with that thought, languorous, sated, with Hank half on her, half at her side, his head resting on her breast.

“It is time we moved on, Sam.” Hank woke her with a gentle shake.

He was dressed, and he turned away to gather her clothes. She gave silent thanks that his eyes were not on her, for she blushed, remembering, and she didn’t want him to see her embarrassment. Why, he was act
ing as if nothing unusual had happened. Could he really think nothing of it?

She felt so different. She hadn’t realized Hank could be such a tender man. It shed new light on him and made her uncomfortable about her old animosity. That was dangerous, extremely so. She
had
to forget their union, forget about that marvelous joining.
He
obviously had.

“I will take you to your father now,” he finally spoke.

He handed her the clothes she had ridden in, which had been washed by some kind soul. The lace skirt and blouse, her wedding clothes, were gone. She wouldn’t ask about them.

She swung her legs over the bed, turning her back to him. “So, you marry me, and now you give me back to my father?”

“At least you will never be a
solterona
, eh?” He chuckled.

“An old maid!” she cried indignantly, and glared over her shoulder at him. “No chance!”

“You think your Ramón would have married you when he saw you grow big with another’s bastard? There are not many men who will take soiled goods.”

“You’re despicable!” Her eyes flashed green fire at him. “And you’re assuming something that will—not—happen! I didn’t need you to save my reputation. And I certainly won’t thank you for it.”

Hank smiled, his gray eyes dancing. That face, those eyes, the way he looked at her…She backed down. Lord, what was he doing to her?

“You still haven’t told me why you really married me,” Samantha said in a much calmer tone. “And I won’t believe this nonsense about saving me from scandal. Why, Hank?”

“You really cannot guess?”

“Would I be asking if I could?”

She was dressed by then and turned to him in time
to see him shrug. “Perhaps it will be clear to you one day.”

“Why don’t you make it clear now? There was no purpose. You can’t control me. You hand me over to my father and I divorce you. So? What have you accomplished? None of this will help your cousin keep my land.”

“You do not want to know, Samina,” he replied mysteriously. “Truly, it would ruin your day.”

“You have already ruined my day!” she screamed at his retreating back.

He was gone, leaving her in a rage. “God, what a teasing, aggravating bastard he is!” she told the walls.

The others were waiting outside the
cantina
in the bright morning sun. Many people were gathered there to bid Hank good-bye. They called him Don Enrique. Had she heard that name before? It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it just then. All those people, so happy for him, had surprised her.

Samantha stood by stiffly until Hank offered her his hand and helped her to mount El Rey. The people waved her good-bye. They knew her to be Hank’s wife—his lawful wife. Lord, she couldn’t stand much more of this, and the smiling faces made her feel worse than she had in some time.

Chapter 32

I
T was a short but grueling ride to El Paso. Whereas Hank had dragged the pace before they were married, he now drove them mercilessly, as if he couldn’t wait to get to the border and get her off his hands.

He never gave Samantha a chance to talk to him. As they rode, he flatly refused to answer the questions she threw over her shoulder at him, and when they camped, she had no further desire to speak to him.

He didn’t demand his rights, not until the last night, when they were camped a mile from the Rio Grande and El Paso rivers, where Hank assumed her father would be waiting.

That night, once again, Hank was tender. And Samantha, knowing this would be their last time, very nearly matched his tenderness.

When she woke the next morning, he was gone. The other three men were still with her, lazing about the camp as if they wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. Samantha was bewildered. Hank hadn’t even said good-bye.

When Lorenzo brought her coffee and some dry food, she asked him to sit, smiling, hoping to draw him out. “Where has he gone so early?”

“To El Paso.”

“Alone? Is Antonio there? Is he supposed to meet his cousin?”

“Antonio?”

Samantha sighed. “You don’t even know Antonio? Lord, don’t you know why I was kidnapped?”

“I follow orders for which I get paid. I do not ask questions.”

Samantha’s anger surfaced, but she didn’t want to antagonize Lorenzo. “What did Hank tell you when he left? Did he leave a message for me?”

“
Sí
, he said to tell you to watch for him in six or seven months.”

She frowned. “What does that mean?”

Lorenzo shrugged. “He said you would understand.”

After a moment, she did, and blushed. In six or seven months, if she were pregnant, she would be very obviously so. Even on leaving he had to taunt her!

“Then he’s not coming back here?” she asked. “I mean, if he left that kind of message, he doesn’t intend to see me again soon.”

“No.”

“But when do I get taken to my father? How will you know if everything has been arranged?”

“We are to wait here, Sam. Your father will come for you here.”

“When?”

He shrugged again. “Perhaps today—or tomorrow. Be patient, little one. You will soon be with your father again.”

As he rode toward El Paso, Hank worried. Would he be able to meet Kingsley as if by accident? It had to appear accidental. He would say he had come to El Paso to visit a cousin. He would be completely surprised when he happened to run into Kingsley.

Dios
, it was such a gamble. If only he hadn’t had to change his plans halfway through all this. Meeting Kingsley a second time after the kidnapping was dangerous. The man might begin to suspect, or at the very least wonder about Hank’s involvement. He had meant to wait longer, to take the chance that Kingsley might sell to someone else before Hank got there, rather than appear too soon after the last message was delivered.
But here he was. His plans had been changed—because of Samantha.

There had been too many ifs where she was involved. She was too damned clever. Even now he couldn’t be completely sure that marrying her had covered all possibilities.

As her husband, Hank had full control of everything that belonged to her. Divorce would not change that. Samantha could dissolve the marriage, but she could not get back what had legally become his the moment they wed—the Hacienda de las Flores for one thing.

But Hank still wanted the deed in his hands, paid for and entirely legal. In effect, he would be paying for what he already had control of. He didn’t want the land for nothing, though. That had never been his intention. He insisted on paying for it.

But that raised another consideration. His offer was based on Pat’s promises, and if they didn’t pan out, he would be unable to buy the land. With Samantha as his wife, though, he no longer had to worry too much about that, he reminded himself.

So why wasn’t he counting his blessings? Why was there that underlying regret, an insane desire to turn around and take Samantha back to the mountains, to make up to her for all the hurt, to forget about her father and his land, to make Samantha love him, somehow?

Dios mío
, he was crazy to even think such things. She was making him crazy!

Chapter 33

S
AMANTHA would have been climbing the walls if there had been any to climb. Four days had passed and no one had come. The May heat was sweltering. The water, fetched during quick trips to the river, was warm and rusty tasting. The food supply was dwindling, and the men were feeling her impatience as well as their own.

By that fourth afternoon, she was sick of the waiting, dirty and sticky, and, though it irked her pride to admit it, she smelled as bad as the men did. She was burned brown by the sun, and if her father were to come now, he probably wouldn’t recognize her. But he didn’t come. Why?

“Something has gone wrong, Lorenzo,” Samantha accused after pulling him away from the others so they could talk alone. “You said one or two days. Why hasn’t my father come?”

But Lorenzo knew as little as she did. “Perhaps he was not in El Paso.”

“Hank would have returned if that were so. Besides, my father has a ranch only a few hours’ ride from town. He would be in one place or the other. Anyone looking for him would have found him by now.”

“We can only wait.”

“Without food?” she pointed out. “No, I demand you take me to town. We will see for ourselves what is going on.”

“I was told to wait.”

“Forever?” she snapped. “Damn it,
you
go then. No one will know you. Find out where my father is.”

When Lorenzo shook his head, Samantha itched to hit him. “Why?” she cried. “What if something has happened to Hank? What if he wasn’t able to let my father know that I’m here? We could be waiting for nothing.” She saw his frown and pressed her point. “It would be a simple matter to find out if my father sold his Mexican land. He was to sell it to Antonio Chavez, Rufino’s cousin. You would only need to ask around. Please, Lorenzo. We can’t just wait.”

He gave in. They needed food, and he used that excuse with Diego and Inigo.

While Lorenzo was gone, Samantha was a bundle of nerves, the waiting and the apprehension of bad news closing in on her. Something had gone wrong, she was certain of it.

If that wasn’t enough, Samantha had to contend with Diego and the leering grins he turned on her at every opportunity. It was the first time she had been left with him in charge of her. The fact that Inigo was there with them did not lessen her nervousness. She still thought of Inigo as a coward. If Diego decided to attack her, he would be no help.

So her relief couldn’t have been greater when Lorenzo returned, before dark, just as the sun was setting. He seemed tired and troubled, however, and she held her breath, waiting for him to speak.

He stared at her for several unbearably long moments, as if debating what, exactly to tell her. At last he said simply, “We will go now.”

“Go? Just like that?” Confusion and anxiety were making her anger rise.

“
Por Dios!
” Lorenzo exclaimed, impatient. “Is that not what you wanted to hear?”

“I want to hear why my father didn’t come for me! What has happened to him?”

“Nothing—that I know of. He was in town, but he is at his ranch now.”

Samantha wanted to cry. “Then the land wasn’t sold? I’m still to be kept prisoner?”

“The land
was
sold, two days ago. The new deed is recorded in the court house.”

“How do you know?”

“I located the clerk. He remembers Señor Kingsley—and the new owner. The sale was also announced publicly. I suppose your father thought one of us would be there, watching him and waiting to hear of the sale.”

“But Rufino
was
there,” she reminded him. “Why didn’t he tell my father where to find me? My father did his part. Lorenzo, I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either,” Lorenzo sighed.

“You didn’t find Rufino?”