Taming Talia (5 page)

He grinned. “Works for me.”

Natalia ran down the hall to her husband’s bedchamber. Another bone of contention early in their marriage had been his refusal to sleep with her in her bedchamber. Given his increasing demands and penchant for rough treatment, she was grateful he didn’t. Having a room of her own was her only refuge.

She threw open the door to the chifforobe and pulled out the heaviest coat. Normally, it would’ve been packed away, but Sarita had aired his winter garments right before he was killed.

Her heart clenched at the thought of Sarita being lost in the blizzard. Such a good woman. She deserved better than freezing to death. Natalia fought back the tears, even as she continued to rummage for one of Reginald’s old scarves.

Upon finding one, she headed to the linen press. As much as she hated destroying the linens her late husband had insisted on ordering from one of the finest stores in New York, surviving this blizzard far outweighed the need for luxurious bed coverings.

“Natalia.”

She glanced up at Jared, her heart filling with gratitude she didn’t have to weather the storm alone. “Follow me,” she said, leading him into her own bedchamber, where it was warmer. “You’ll to have to help me with this.” She passed him a stack of sheets. “The stables are quite a distance from the back of the hacienda.”

His gaze widened, then narrowed. “Are you talking a few hundred yards or miles?”

“Not miles,” she said with a smile, shaking her head. “Not even a mile. More like a hundred yards or so.”

“Thank God for small favors.”

“I’ll find shears in Sarita’s sleeping quarters.” She set another stack of linens on her bed, then rushed from the room. Her
bedroom
, a fact very much on her mind.

Jared watched her retreating form. “Two pair, I hope?” he called. Tearing the linens and knotting them into a makeshift tether could take all night. He’d made it as far as her bedroom, and yet all thoughts—
almost
all thoughts—of seducing her were of secondary import.

Before he could consider their situation any further, he heard her rapid footsteps on the tile floor. Triumph flushed her cheeks as she held two pair of shears aloft.

He took one pair. “Did no one ever think to tell you shouldn’t run with a pair of shears, much less two?”

“
Sí
.” She pulled an expression so innocent she could’ve passed for a nun. “Don’t be such an old woman,” she said with a laugh.

“Glad that you can laugh, given our situation.” Hopefully there wouldn’t be tears before it ended.

Throughout the next couple of hours, they cut then tore the bed linens into strips, both of them sitting on the floor with heaps of strips piled around them as they knotted the ends together. Try as he might to keep his mind on surviving the storm, it was damned difficult. Her lively energy as she knotted and chatted about trivial matters was hypnotic and pulled at his being. When he’d first met her, she’d seemed very conscious of her appearance and allure. Now she seemed oblivious to everything except the task at hand…and damned if he didn’t find her even more desirable.

Jared shivered. The room was colder. Or did it seem so from not being able to touch her? He stood to stretch his legs. “The fire in here is almost out.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll check the fireplace in the drawing room as well.” He scooped up a section of the knotted sheeting. “Can’t wait any longer. This has to be enough. I need to bring in more wood before we freeze.”

“Might it not be over by morning?” She gazed up at him, her eyes wide and dark as pools of water in moonlight.

The hope in her voice gutted him. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “If I were a gambling man, I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“What if these aren’t long enough? What will you do then? Come back? I’ll keep knotting until…” She sighed, signaling her hope had turned into desperation.

“If I can see the stables, I’ll go on.”

Before pulling on Montrose’s heavy coat, he stirred the fire, adding the last logs of mesquite in her bedchamber and the sitting room. “Now, which door is closest to the stables?”

“The kitchen. I’ll show you.” Holding a pile of knotted linens, she led him down the hall and back through the dining room, then through another doorway into a large, tiled kitchen. Homey and warm. Understandable why Natalia preferred sharing a simple dinner with her housekeeper to eating alone in the pretentious dining room. He couldn’t help but remember the hours he’d spent as a boy at home, waiting while the cook baked cookies for him and his brother.

“There’s a courtyard and a gate. Beyond the gate, the stable’s a hundred yards, straight ahead.”

He nodded, then tried to open the door. Putting his shoulder to it, he shoved and forced the door open. The wind howled like a banshee, driving stinging cold snow into the kitchen. The heavy, soggy snow had drifted higher than expected. Over a foot.

Natalia handed him one end of a linen strip. “Tie this around your wrist…just in case I have to come find you.”

The thought of her trying to find him in the midst of this blizzard shook him. He set his hands on her shoulders and gazed into her black-as-night eyes. “Promise me you won’t come out in this.”

“No! If you don’t return when I think you should, I
will
come after you.”

“There’s no way to estimate how long it’ll take for me to see to the animals and bring in more firewood. Promise you’ll stay inside. If something happens to me, then you still have a chance of surviving. You have food. You may get cold, but these walls are a foot thick. You’ll be all right…
as long as you stay put
.”

She folded her arms across her chest, her beautiful mouth drawing into a pout. “If you say so.”

Her attitude said differently, but damn it, he hated to go out into the storm without tasting her lips just once.

Still, kissing her would be a very forward move. Hesitating for a second, he pulled her closer and planted a light kiss on those delectable lips. Granted, it was more of a peck that a true kiss. He wanted her as desperately as a soldier going off to war. So what if it was war with the elements? To his surprise, her arms encircled his neck. She pressed her lush breasts against his chest and kissed him back full on the mouth. Passionately. God, she smelled better than any woman had a right to. And her lips were as demanding as his should’ve been. Yet soft and yielding as…fresh, homemade butter. If he could eat her now, he would.

Damn.

The hunger of her response shook him, or was the hunger all his? A passionate woman, bursting with life, intelligence—more than capable of reaching out for what she wanted and grabbing it with both hands. But was she capable of having her husband murdered?

He’d have to know. Soon. But not now.

Summoning all his willpower, he ended the kiss. Took a step back. “Time to go.”

Natalia tried to cling to him. “No!”

“Have to.” He nodded, swallowing the knot in his throat. What man wouldn’t rather stay in Natalia’s arms than venture out into the worst blizzard he’d ever seen?

“Men!” She stamped her foot. “You and your
machismo
. You’re all alike. Go on and brave the blizzard. Don’t expect me to come looking for your cold, frozen body.
Sí
, I’ll just stay here where, for the moment, it’s reasonably warm.” She turned her back to him. “If I’m not found until the spring thaw, who is there to care? Not even my mercenary father. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to inherit all my land and cattle.”

Jared wanted to laugh but wisely refrained. A survivor—that was what the fiery beauty before him was. Natalia would be all right whether he returned or not.

He pulled on a pair of wool gloves, set his Stetson on his head, and wrapped the scarf around his neck, covering his nose and mouth. Without saying another word, he picked up the makeshift rope and opened the door again. A blast of searing-cold air hit him, staggering him almost to his knees. He fastened one end of the tether to his wrist and the opposite to a section of wrought-iron railing. Then, sucking in a breath, he headed out into the wall of white.

Natalia pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders and watched Jared disappear into the storm. Involuntarily, her hand went to her mouth. She could almost feel his lips on hers. She’d felt his desire too, pressing hard into her belly. He wanted her. Why couldn’t he have stayed just a little longer? They could have kept each other warm through the night. Morning would have been soon enough for him to play the hero.

Madre de Dios, please let him be all right.
Still, she couldn’t just stand there at the door waiting for his return. Coffee—she would keep it brewing as long as the wood lasted. He would be nearly frozen through when he came back. And he
would
come back to her. He would. He must.

She spent the next few minutes relighting the cookstove, then set the coffeepot on the hot plate. Walking over to the window, she held her breath. She wiped away a rime of frost from the glass in an attempt to see the makeshift line or any sign of his progress. But all she could see through the window was snow blowing sideways. Beyond that…nothing.

A tremor shook her body, causing her to rub her upper arms. Someone walking over her grave? Perhaps this hacienda would prove to be the death of her. It certainly hadn’t brought Reginald any luck. But then, he’d thought money was more important than luck. When he’d first approached her father about purchasing the hacienda and all the land with it, he hadn’t counted on her father’s insistence that Reginald should marry his daughter as part of the devil’s own bargain. After the financial transaction, her father moved to San Francisco, married a rich widow and bought a fine hotel. And Natalia was left to suffer the living death of a loveless, passionless marriage.

The rattle and bubble of the coffeepot as it started percolating drew her attention back to the cookstove. She smiled. The sound brought back happy memories of the busy mornings before her mother had died. How different Natalia’s life might’ve been if her mother had lived instead of dying along with the baby boy who would’ve been her brother.

A wave of sadness enveloped her…that and worry.

Sarita, who’d cared for Natalia since her mother’s death, was likely lost in the storm. Natalia crossed herself, saying a quiet prayer for Sarita and Jared both.

Chapter Five

Never seen such a storm. Not like this
. One step at a time, Jared trudged through snow that drifted higher and higher, by the second, it seemed. Unable to see more than a foot in front of his face, was he heading anywhere near the stables?
Straight ahead
, she’d said.

Sure thing, if his lids weren’t trying to freeze shut. He swiped at the ice clinging to his lashes and sucked in a lungful of blistering-cold air. The wool scarf over his mouth and nose helped some, but it couldn’t overcome the wind and the nut-freezing cold. He tugged on the strip of sheeting. Still plenty of slack in this lifeline of his.

But what he wouldn’t give for a pair of snowshoes.

More interminable steps. A hundred yards was nothing unless one was in a blizzard to end all blizzards. Damned impossible to tell how far he’d come or how much farther he had to go.

Without warning, he stepped into a hole. His arms flailed as he attempted to maintain his balance, but there was nothing to grab or hold on to. Crashing down, he tumbled into a waist-high drift. Snow covered his head, swathed his face with its icy wetness. Using one end of the scarf, he wiped it away, then rolled over to his knees before rising to stand.

He tugged his wrist. He’d lost the strip of cloth tethering him to the ranch house.

Damnation.

Frustration cut through his gut as he removed his gloves, stuffed them in his pockets, then ran his hands through the piles of snow. Couldn’t keep that up forever. Frostbite. Worse, the fall had disoriented him. Unable to tell which direction he originally was headed, he circled slowly. Behind him, the snow fell so hard it obliterated his trail from the house.
First, find the damned line.
Without it, he’d never find his way back.

Down on his knees, he began a systematic search. Ignoring the biting chill, he kept searching for the tether until his fingers grew numb and clumsy, feeling like thick sausages. Wouldn’t work. Couldn’t keep this up. He stopped, removed the gloves from his pockets, and slipped his freezing fingers into the lined leather gloves. While not exactly warm, the gloves were a hell of a lot better than nothing.

Back on his feet, he attempted once more to get his bearings. Had to move forward, back…whatever. Staying in one spot wasn’t an option. When he’d left Natalia, the snow was blowing from the northeast. That meant he could keep moving
straight ahead
by keeping the blowing snow to his right…as long as the wind hadn’t changed direction without his noticing.

He waded through the deepening drifts, fighting the urge to say to hell with it. But death lay with that decision. Step by never-ending step, he continued what he’d already decided was a fool’s journey.

He had no warning. One second there was nothing but snow; the next, he ran smack into the stables. At least he hoped it was the stables. It had taken them so long to make the guideline, the snow was waist-high. Now to find the entrance and clear away enough to get inside.