Midnight Rider (28 page)

In the overstuffed chair across from him, William spoke up, breaking into his thoughts. The taller man uncrossed his long legs, which were encased in perfectly tailored brown wool slacks. “It was definitely an odd turn of events,” he said. “As you can see, my son has not yet recovered from the loss. It appears he held Caralee in extremely high regard.”

“I'm sorry, my boy. Part of the blame belongs to me. I don't believe she would have acted as she did if we had given her a bit more time.”

Vincent leaned forward. “You think she did it just to spite you? That she might have cared for me after all?” He eased back in his chair, his hazel eyes lit with a glow of satisfaction. “Yes, that must be it. As I said before, she hardly even knew the man. God only knows the misery she must be suffering. Unfortunate for both of us, I suspect.”

Vincent rattled on for the next few minutes about the sad state of affairs Carly had gotten herself into, but Fletcher's mind had suddenly swung in another direction.

“Excuse me, Vincent. What was it you said before … something about her hardly even knowing him?”

“That's right.”

Absently, he rubbed his chin. “Perhaps she knew him better than we believed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe Ramon de la Guerra is somehow connected with this outlaw, El Dragón. Maybe he and Caralee were together while she was being held in the mountains.”

“I cannot imagine there is any truth to that,” William argued. “The de la Guerra family is highly respected. Besides, Don Ramon was with us at del Robles the night the Spanish Dragon robbed the stage.”

“True, but maybe he was somehow involved. If that is the case, it's possible de la Guerra may have ordered the abduction. The bad blood between us runs deep. It would suit him well to usurp something of mine … perhaps even my niece. If the bastard took her virtue, Carly would have felt obliged to marry him.”

“If that is the case,” Vincent put in, “why would she have kept his secret after she escaped?” It was obvious the boy preferred the first scenario, but Fletcher had begun to believe he might have stumbled onto the truth.

“I don't know.” He leaned back against the green brocade settee, a thick finger drumming against the side of his glass. “But as soon as I return to del Robles, I'm going to try very hard to find out.”

*   *   *

A week had passed since Ramon's return. A week of passionate kisses and sultry nights, of making love and learning the secrets of her husband's hard-muscled body. Once they traveled to a place on del Robles land, a secluded spot where Ramon had come as a boy. A narrow creek tumbled from a high ledge into a shallow pond surrounded by pine trees. They made love in the soft green grass beside the pond.

Carly smiled as she thought of it again this morning, then she swung her legs to the side of the bed and came to her feet. Ramon was already up and gone, off to work with the men to finish the fall
matanza.
They had all been working hard, rounding up cattle, branding calves, sorting the strays from the herd, and separating those that were being slaughtered from ones being sold on the hoof.

Carly stretched and yawned, her back a little stiff from the hours she had spent working over the tallow pots, huge iron cauldrons used to heat the fat taken from the slaughtered steers. It was melted into lard, some of it kept, some of it sold, and some of the tallow stored for later use in making soap and candles.

Even Ramon's mother and Aunt Teresa pitched in, and obviously were pleased that Carly felt no hesitation in doing the same.

Dressed in a simple gray cotton skirt and white cotton blouse, she grabbed a shawl and left the house. Outside, the rancho buzzed with activity, the vaqueros busy saddling their horses, the kitchen humming with the voices of men finishing the last of their morning meal. Old Blue had been up for some time, shuffling about, clanging pots and pans, setting tin plates on the table. Even on this small rancho, the cook was awake long before dawn, tending the fires, making coffee and thick pots of cocoa, frying tortillas and meat.

Carly helped for a while, enjoying the robust smells and simple good cheer of the women. But as the sun crept higher above the mountains, bathing the fields in a haze of bright gold, it beckoned her out of the
cocina,
and she went in search of Ramon. The walk would do her good, she reasoned, help to stretch her weary muscles; and the day was warm, the sky overhead as blue as a jay on the wing.

Carly made her way out through the sycamore grove. He wasn't with his vaqueros, she discovered, who were busy lassoing cattle in an open field the animals had been driven into. Still, for a moment she stopped to watch, marveling at the men's skill with the long, braided length of leather they called a
reata.
Once a steer was cut out of the herd, one rider roped its head while another caught the heels, bringing the animal to the ground.

The slaughter was quick and efficient, but the sight drove Carly back toward the house. Then she spotted several men in one of the distant pastures and set off in that direction instead. Emerging from a dense thicket, she stood beside the wide trunk of an oak, searching the grassy fields for Ramon. Rey del Sol was there, she saw, his snowy mane shimmering as he bowed his magnificent thick-muscled neck. Snorting and stamping his feet, he nuzzled a pretty little palomino mare, and for the first time it occurred to her exactly what he was about to do.

Her cheeks suffused with color, but she did not move away, just stood there staring, mesmerized by the sight of the beautiful golden stallion mounting its equally beautiful mate. So much power, she thought, such raw untamed desire. The animals nickered and snorted, whinnied and pawed the earth. The stallion bared its teeth, then used them to subdue the mare by a firm hold on her neck.

He surged up over her, balancing his hooves on her back. Then he buried his huge length deep inside her, mastering her with ease, taking what nature meant for him to have, and Carly felt an odd rush of heat. When the stallion began to move, plunging into its mate with one powerful thrust after another, a hot tingling shiver ran down her spine. Her mouth went dry, and the palm that rested on the trunk of the oak began to grow damp.

She didn't hear Ramon's silent approach, just felt his warm breath on the side of her face.

“It is a great sight, no? The stallion mounting his mare. It is a tribute to life, I think.”

She licked her dry lips, suddenly conscience that Ramon's hard body pressed the length of her. He was aroused, she realized, his thick sex hard against her bottom.

“Yes. In a way it's very beautiful.”

“
Si
 … I believe that is the truth.” His hand stroked over her breast, found her nipple hard and distended. The brush of his fingers made it stiffen even more. Against her cheek, his softly spoken words held the same gentle caress. “Can you feel it, Cara? Can you feel his hunger, the strength of his desire for her? Do you see how he dominates her, takes what he wants and makes her accept it?”

She nodded, her heart pulsing faster with each of his words, each purposeful stroke of his fingers.

“It happens only because the mare wants it too. She needs to know her mate is strong enough to protect her. How can she obey him, if she cannot feel his strength?” His long, dark hand molded a breast, kneaded it softly through her blouse, working her tightly puckered nipple. “When he takes her as he does now, driving himself so deeply inside her, she knows that he is stronger than she … and that he will keep her safe.”

He drew her back a little, till they were hidden out of sight behind the tree. Carly's fingers bit into the rough bark of the trunk and she leaned her forehead against it. Ramon's hand skimmed down her side, then moved lower to lift her skirts and bunch them around her waist. She felt his palm gliding over her bottom, searching for then finding the split in her pantalets. Carly gasped as his hand caressed her skin, smoothed over the roundness, then a finger eased between the globes and finally slipped inside her, probing gently, deeply, moving with ease against the slickness that had collected as she'd watched the animals mate.

“A woman is the same,” he said softly. “She must know her man is strong.” He bit her neck, hard enough to cause a shot of pleasure-pain. He unbuttoned the front of her blouse and began to massage her breasts. A second finger slid in, began to ease in and out, and a sweet ache throbbed between her legs. “She must know that he has the power to dominate her, if that is his wish.” His mouth moved along her throat, trailing hot damp kisses. Then his hand left her breast; she felt him unbuttoning his breeches, freeing his long straining length, and she felt his hardness against her.

“Part your legs,
querida,
” he whispered in her ear, his tongue darting out to tease the rim. “Do it for me.” Tiny shivers raced through her, sent another rush of heat to her slick, damp core.

Her legs moved, slid silently apart for him. It never occurred to her to stop him. Just like the mare, she found herself wanting him to take her, to show her the power of his rough male strength.

Ramon complied with her unspoken wishes, spreading the folds of her sex and easing himself inside. She could feel the hotness of his loins pressed against her buttocks as he rested his hands on her waist, firmly gripping her hips, then with a single deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt.

Carly bit back a cry of pleasure at the overwhelming heat that surged through her. Instead she clutched the tree, hung on for dear life as Ramon thrust into her again and again. Deeper, harder, slowly at first, grinding himself against her, then moving faster, with greater domination. In her mind's eye, she saw the stallion driving into the mare, its long, deep strokes claiming her, enforcing its male possession. Then Ramon's face appeared, along with his hard-muscled body, and the images meshed together, the tall broad-shouldered Spaniard and the long, deep thrusts of the stallion pounding into its mate.

A powerful climax shook her, tightening the muscles that sheathed Ramon's hardness and wrenching a groan from his lips. Two more hard, deep strokes and he too reached release, groaning again as he gripped her hips, pumping into her fiercely, spewing his hot, wet seed.

“Por Dios,”
he whispered as the shudders wracking his body began to subside. “If the stallion feels as I do, it is the mare who has proven her strength.”

Carly laughed softly, her head falling back against his shoulder.
I love you, Ramon,
she thought, but she didn't say it. Instead she felt him easing away and her skirt falling back into place. He finished buttoning up his breeches, turned her to face him, and kissed her softly on the lips. Then he reached for her hand, lifted it and kissed the palm.

“Shall I walk with you back to the house?”

Carly shook her head. “They might think we were…”

“Doing what it is that we were doing?”

She grinned. “Yes.”

Ramon laughed softly. “Aye,
querida,
how did I ever find such a one as you?”

Carly wasn't sure what to make of his words, but she liked the way he looked when he said them. And she liked the way that soft look made her feel.

Ignoring her earlier protest, he took her hand and they started walking toward his small adobe hacienda. He smiled at her as they drew near, and turned her toward him for a soft farewell kiss, then his gaze slid away over her head and Carly turned to see a small slender figure emerging from a grove of sycamore trees, walking toward them through the tall brown grasses. He passed the orchard and melon patch before she could tell who it was.

“It's Two Hawks!” She started running toward him, grinning hugely, eager to see the boy who had gained a special place in her affections. She stopped when he drew near, his wary, troubled expression warning her that something was wrong.

“What is it, Two Hawks? What's happened?” The slender boy's oddly fashioned breach cloth, all he had on, was dirty and covered with rust-colored blood. Long, deep scratches ran over his face and arms. One eye was black, and his upper lip was swollen and dark with crusted blood.

He stared down at the ground but didn't seem to see it. “The soldiers … the militia … they came to the village. At first we were only surprised that they were able to find us, since we were so deep in the mountains. Then they started shooting at us.”

Carly's heart clenched, twisted hard inside her. When the boy looked up at her, a sheen of moisture reflected in his tar-black eyes.

“First they aimed at the men,” he said, “killing any they could see, then they started on the others … the women, even old One Horse and the children. We ran into the woods, but they came after us. I fought with one—killed him with his own knife. I drove it into his skinny chest and I am glad.” His hard expression slid away, turning bleak and forlorn. “But Lena is dead … and many of the others.”

“Dear Lord,” Carly whispered.

“I did not know what to do. I wandered through the mountains for a while … then I came here.”

“Oh, Two Hawks, I'm so sorry.” She reached for his hand, which was cold and limp, without the slightest spark of life.

“You did right in coming here,” Ramon said, walking up beside her. “You are welcome to stay for as long as you wish.”

The boy did not answer, just swallowed hard and nodded. If he was surprised to find Carly at Las Almas, he didn't show it. But then his sister had always believed Caralee was Don Ramon's woman.

Ramon surveyed the boy's clothes, his battered face and dazed expression. “You will have to work, of course. You can bunk in with the vaqueros.” With those words, the first hint of life came into the young boy's eyes.

Two Hawks looked up at Ramon. “I will work hard. You will see. Two Hawks will take nothing he has not earned.”