Midnight Rider (17 page)

It was a feeling he had never experienced. He hoped he never would again.

Holding her protectively against him, he rode back to the clearing to gather the other horse's reins, then headed deeper into the woods. He wouldn't go far. In the morning, he would return to bury Cisco's body—if the wolves didn't get to him first.

Ramon reached down to smooth Carly's silky copper hair. She was nearly asleep, he saw, exhausted by the grueling journey and the bandit's brutal assault, her small head nestled against his shoulder.

She was a virgin, she had said, and Ramon did not doubt it. It pleased him that no other man had touched her, but it angered him too, for he knew he could not be the one to claim her. He would not hurt her again, and that is all that could happen. Carly needed a husband, and Ramon was determined his children would be born of Spanish blood.

He smiled to think of the fight she had given Villegas. She was tough, this little
gringa.
A fighter. She deserved her freedom.

He wished more than ever that he could let her go.

*   *   *

“Why do you do it, Ramon?” They were sitting beneath a huge black oak on a ridge overlooking a small pleasant valley. The sun sat low on the western horizon, its bright yellow rays lighting the golden grasses, dry mustard, and wild oats. An eagle soared above them and quail scattered like seeds on the wind as Ramon tossed a pebble into the center of the covey.

“We fight for the return of our lands,” he said. “It is as simple as that.” They had been traveling slowly. Ramon must have guessed how tired she was, how her muscles ached from the newness of riding for so long.

“You're breaking the law. That makes all of you outlaws.” For the first time since the night of the raid, she had begun to consider what the future would hold for Ramon and the families in the stronghold. She wouldn't have thought it could happen, but she was worried about him.

“To our way of thinking, we are not outlaws. We are just men trying to regain what is rightfully ours.”

“People often make misjudgments, invest unwisely. That does not mean they've been treated unfairly.”

“The government caused us to lose our land.”

“How? I can't imagine they would purposely do something like that.” If only she could make him see how futile his efforts were, perhaps he would stop his raiding. Then he would be safe.

She looked at him, saw a muscle clamp in his jaw.

“You do not think so? Perhaps it was not done on purpose; there is no way to know for sure. Three years ago, your government passed a number of sweeping reforms. They were supposed to settle land disputes, to ease the tension between Mexican Californios—men who had just lost a war to the
gringos
—and immigrant Americanos. But the Californios were not prepared to deal with American law.”

He stared out over the valley, his painful memories etched in the lines of his face. The quail began to cluster again, to peck at the loose seeds and berries scattered across the fertile soil but another stone shooed them away.

“Go on,” Carly urged gently. “I'd really like to know what happened.”

Ramon sighed into the darkness. “The Californios had lived on the land for so long they took their ownership for granted. Their
disenos
—maps showing the boundaries of their grants—were often missing. The deeds that did exist were contested by the
gringos.
The grants were old, the boundaries marked by vague, indiscernible descriptions: streams that had long ago changed course, two leagues north to a skull's head on a rock, a right angle westward to the fork in a bent oak tree, that sort of thing.”

“I see.”

“Then the vultures swept in. Men like your uncle. They schemed and plotted with other
gringos,
found ways to steal our lands.”

Carly tensed, the back of her blouse rustling against the bark of the oak. “My uncle? Surely you don't believe he'd be involved in something like that. My uncle's a highly respected member of the community. It's obvious you dislike him. What I've never understood is why? What could he possibly have done to you?”

He looked at her strangely. “You do not know? Your uncle never told you?”

“Told me what?”

“That before he came, Rancho del Robles belonged to the de la Guerras. Your uncle stole our land.”

The breath seemed to
whoosh
from her lungs. It couldn't be true. Ramon was lying. Carly stiffened even more. “You can't expect me to believe that. My uncle is not that kind of man.”

“You hardly know him,
chica.
You have been in California only for a very short time. But you are not a stupid woman. Soon enough you will discover that what I say is the truth.”

Carly looked at him hard, hoping to see the lie in his face. She started to argue, but Ramon came abruptly to his feet. “It is time we were off. We still have a long way to go and the day passes by.”

Carly stood up, too, but inwardly she groaned. Her legs were aching and the hard leather saddle grated against the abraded skin on her thighs with every mile they rode. Ramon helped her up onto the horse, but all the while she was thinking of what he had said.

Could it possibly be true? Could her uncle be responsible for stealing the de la Guerra lands? She hadn't the slightest notion of how he had acquired the property he owned. It had never even crossed her mind. Oddly, now that she thought of it, Lena had mentioned something about Rancho del Robles when she spoke of her years at the mission. She said greed and the white man went hand in hand. That there was always a way for them to steal what they could not have.

Carly had been so tired at the time, she hadn't really listened. Now she wished she had.

They rode for two more hours and again Ramon drew up the horses. Carly winced as he lifted her down, and the don's sleek black brows drew together in a frown.

“You are that sore?”

Carly flushed with embarrassment. “It's the saddle. It rubs against my legs. The skin is—”

“Let me see,” he commanded.

“Th-there's nothing you can do. Once we're back I'll be fine.”

A corner of his mouth curved up. “I have seen a woman's legs before, Cara. I promise I will not lose control and ravish you.”

“It isn't proper, I can't let you—”

Before she could finish, he lifted her up, carried her over to a fallen log, set her down, and jerked her bright yellow skirt up to well above her knees. Carly flushed crimson and but the Spaniard merely scowled.

“You should have said something.” His long fingers lightly traced the rough, red rash on the inside of her thigh and Carly felt a hot tug of fire. “You cannot go on like this.” He left her a moment and returned to his horse. Taking something out of the saddlebags, he came back with a small round tin of ointment. “For the horses,” he said. “For cuts and scrapes. Florentia made it. I always carry it with me.”

“Horse medicine? I'm supposed to use—”

“You are supposed to be quiet while I take care of your beautiful legs.”

The color in her cheeks burned brighter. Carly felt his fingers stroking over her tender skin as he applied the salve, and a rush of heat slid into her stomach. Dear God in heaven—just the sight of those long, brown fingers moving over her flesh made her mouth go dry and her palms grow damp. The scent of pine and clover rose up from the salve to mingle with Ramon's own scent of horses and leather and man.

He was finished in seconds, his movements sure and purposeful, but when he glanced up, his eyes had grown dark and a muscle throbbed in his cheek.

“Th-thank you.”

For a moment he said nothing, just stared at her with those hot, dark eyes. “Do you know how much I want you?”

Carly swallowed and tried not to tremble beneath that piercing gaze. She eased her skirt down over her legs, but her eyes remained locked on his face. “You said you would not ravish me.”

“No … I would not do that. I would make love to you. I would take you gently at first, until you grew used to my touch, then I would drive myself into you as deeply as I wish to do every time I look at you.”

Carly wet her lips. Heat spiraled into her belly. She hadn't guessed how much he desired her. Not when he already had a woman as beautiful as Miranda. “I'm your prisoner. Why … why have you not already taken what you want?”

A hand cupped her cheek. “Because I have hurt you enough. You are an innocent. The man who takes you should be your husband, someone who can protect you. Even if I were not an outlaw, I could not offer you marriage. I have vowed to wed a woman of pure Spanish blood.”

Her heart clutched, twisted painfully inside her. It shouldn't have mattered. It didn't, she told herself firmly. “Miranda?” She hoped the black-haired woman wasn't the one. She hadn't forgotten Miranda's treachery in plotting with Villegas. Ramon deserved a far better woman than that.

“Miranda is only part Spanish. She pleases me in bed, but neither of us wishes to marry. I have not yet chosen the woman I will wed.”

Carly bit back a wave of relief. “That your wife is Spanish … is it really so important?”

“
Si.
It is a promise I have made to the Californios who are my friends. I have made such a vow to myself and to my family. The blood of Spanish royalty runs through de la Guerra veins. My children and my children's children must be of Spanish descent.”

Carly couldn't help thinking of the mine patch and the lowly beginnings she had come from. The McConnells were hardly royalty, yet she would not change who she was. “You do this because you hate the
gringos
so much.”

“
Si.
The
gringos
killed my brother. They have stolen my family's lands. I am a Californio. My wife and children will be Californio, too.”

Carly said nothing. Her chest felt tight in a way she hadn't expected. “The salve has helped,” she finally said, forcing herself to smile. “I think we should be going.”

Ramon merely nodded. He moved to his horse and took a blanket from his bedroll. Placing it over her saddle, he lifted her aboard the bay, then swung himself up on his tall black stallion.

They spoke very little for the rest of the afternoon, but Ramon stopped the horses several more times. Soon it was apparent they wouldn't make it back to Llano Mirada before nightfall.

Remembering the desire she had seen in his eyes, the heat of his fingers as they skimmed over her flesh, Carly bit her bottom lip, wondering if perhaps he had planned it this way, planned all along to take her as he seemed to wish. Or if she could trust him to keep his word.

*   *   *

Ramon rode straight-backed in the saddle, disgruntled they had been forced to travel so slowly. They wouldn't reach the stronghold until tomorrow. He would be alone with the girl all night.

A harsh sound came from his throat. He would sleep little this night. After his tender ministrations this afternoon, his body was still hard and throbbing. Even now he could imagine Carly McConnell's smooth, white skin beneath his fingers, that if he had raised them only a few more inches, he could have touched her soft woman's flesh. He could have spread her pretty legs, opened his breeches, and buried himself inside her, eased the painful ache he felt whenever she was near.

Damn, but he had never been so driven to bed a woman.

They came to a clearing beside a marshy pond surrounded by willows, and he motioned for her to rein up. A small clear stream fed the pond, and a cluster of boulders ringed the clearing, providing a shelter of sorts. They set up camp in silence, then he rode into the woods in the hope of finding fresh game.

He didn't go far. He hadn't lied about the danger of mountain lion and grizzly. He had seen fresh bear sign just that afternoon. And wild cattle, with their long, sharp horns and vicious tempers, could often be the most deadly of all.

Still, he was able to return with a nice, plump rabbit, which Carly skinned and they roasted on a green willow bough over the flames. Afterward, he sat with his back propped against a granite boulder, watching her beside the stream, cleaning the grease from their tin utensils while he smoked a slim cheroot.

When she finished, she sat in front of the fire a few feet away, curling her shapely legs beneath her, eyeing him somewhat warily.

She picked up a small leafy branch that was lying in the dirt and began to twirl it between her fingers. “I was wondering…” She looked up at him, her pretty face outlined by the low-burning flames, “the night of the raid … why did you take me?”

He pulled the cheroot from between his teeth, trying not to notice the rich dark copper of her hair. “Because it was my brother's intention. I saw it in his eyes as he rode toward you. In that moment, just after they shot him, I felt as if I were Andreas, as if his will were mine and I was doing what he would have wanted.”

“Your brother would have taken me?”

“
Si.
He had seen you the day of the horse race. He wanted you even then.”

Her tongue ran nervously over her ruby lips, and Ramon's groin tightened.

“Your … your brother would have raped me?”

He took a draw on the slim cigar, slowly released it, and watched the smoke drift into the clear night sky. “I do not know. Never had he done such a thing … but then he had never been with a woman who was the niece of his most hated enemy.”

She pondered that in silence, then leaned forward, the firelight giving her smooth pale skin a rosy glow. “Would you have let him?”

Ramon looked into her lovely face, thinking how small and innocent she was, how soft and womanly, and knew he would not have let his brother touch her. “No.”

Her expression shifted, subtly changed, and she smiled at him sweetly. “Perhaps I was not so wrong about you as I thought.”