He caught up with her in a quiet place where the water eddied and swirled. She sat there alone, feeling forlorn and wishing she was back at Rancho del Robles, wishing she could cry but determined that she wouldn’t. Staring out over thefrothy, rippling stream, she felt his presence even before she saw him.
“I am sorry,” he said quietly. “That is not what I meant to say. The truth is the men have come to respect you. If you wish it, they will accept you among them.”
His voice was so soft, so masculine and beautiful. It reminded her of something… someone.… She tried to recall, but the memory slid away. Carly straightened and lifted her eyes to his face.
“I wish to go home, Don Ramon. I realize the problem that poses, yet I beseech you to find a way.”
The Spaniard said nothing. There was no way he could let her leave and both of them knew it. But how long could he force her to stay? And what would he do with her once he grew tired of his unwantedguest?
They started back to the house, Carly fighting to control the worry that bubbled up inside her, making her stomach feel queasy. Stay calm, she told herself. At least for the present you are safe. In the meantime, her uncle would be searching, and perhaps she could find some means of escape.
With that thought in mind, she surveyed the compound, noting the men, women, and children absorbed in their everyday tasks, but also the wagons and horses, and anything she might find for a weapon. She would continue to do so, to learn this place and what might be useful.
Lost in such thoughts, when they rounded the corner, she was surprised to see a beautiful black-haired woman standing on the porch. She was tall and slender, with small, pointed breasts, a narrow waist, and trim hips. The woman was elegant, not the least bit boyish, exotic, and as beautiful as any woman Carly had ever seen.
She was also angry, her black eyes snapping, her chest rising and falling with each hostile breath.
“Buenas tardes,Miranda,” the don said pleasantly, but his features had grown taut, and it was obvious he was not pleased that she was there.
“Will you not introduce me to the woman you have brought into our camp?” she said waspishly. “The woman who killed your brother.”
The don’s dark eyes blazed to life. His posture grew rigid, his muscles tense, anger seeping from every pore. Carly knew that look only too well. She was glad this time she was not the object of his wrath.
“I have told you, Miranda, the woman is not responsible. For as long as I say, she is our guest. That is the way you will treat her.”
For as long as I say.The words sent a ripple of fear down Carly’s spine. Just how long was that? The words, combined with the hatred oozing from the black-haired woman, made Carly feel slightly sick.
“I am Miranda,” the woman said with dark menace, her fiery eyes flashing a warning. “I am Don Ramon’s woman. I have come here so that you will know. So that between us there will be no misunderstanding.”
Standing at his side, Carly’s own temper stirred. “And you, senorita—I hopeyouwill not misunderstand. I have no interest in your El Dragón. As far as I am concerned he is nothing but a ruthless outlaw. If it pleases you to sleep with him, that is your misfortune. All I wish to do is return to my home.”
Ramon felt the smaller woman’s anger almost as hot as his own, and a corner of his mouth tugged upward in grudging respect. Ignoring them both, she swept past him into the house. He couldn’t help recalling her humble beginnings and found himself admiring how well she had learned to disguise them. She was as regal as any noblewoman he had ever met, as haughty and proud as any woman of pure Spanish blood.
That thought made him uneasy. She was agringa.Nothing could change that. Just as it could not change Miranda’s part Indian heritage. Fortunately, he felt little more than affection for Miranda. It was all he would allow himself to feel for the saucy American girl.
***
Carly sat beside the don through supper. Florentia and Pedro Sanchez sat on the opposite side of the stout oak table. As he had been earlier, the Spaniard was charming and attentive, and that fact made her nervous and withdrawn. She didn’t know what he was after. She only knew she hadn’t forgotten the hard man he could be.
Pleading a headache, she withdrew from the table and retired to her room, but she had trouble sleeping. What were his motives? Why was he being kind when before he had been so cruel? Was he sorry for what he had done? He had never really said so, only that he’d made a mistake. Perhaps he was trying to make amends, but she couldn’t seem to make herself believe it.
And even if he was, it didn’t change things. She was still his prisoner, he still the master of her fate.
Lying on the mattress, staring up at the rugged hand-hewn beams above her head, she recalled the furious look he had scorched his mistress with, the woman who called herself Miranda. She was beautiful, dark-skinned and exotic. Obviously seduction wasn’t the don’s objective. He already had a woman to warm his bed.
In a strange way, the notion disturbed her. That even now he was probably with Miranda, kissing her, making passionate love to her. Carly knew little of such things, yet until now the notion had seemed romantic. She had hoped one day to be married, perhaps to a man as handsome as the don. One who could be just as charming.
But wasn’t nearly so ruthless.
Eventually, she fell asleep, but when she did, she dreamed. Dressed all in black, the Spaniard thundered toward her astride his fierce black horse. He swept her up in his arms, flung her over his saddle, and rode away with her into the forest. Pulling the stallion to a halt, he carried her fighting and screaming to a grassy knoll beside a stream and there he began to kiss her.
Carly quit struggling. The heat of his mouth made her body go limp, made her insides grow buttery and liquid. His lips felt warm, and softer than she had expected; the arms that crushed her against him were hard as granite and utterly implacable, but he did not hurt her.
His hands swept downward, skimming lightly over her body. There was fiery possession in his touch. He wanted something from her, something more than the liberties he had taken already. His kiss demanded it, yet she wasn’t sure what it was.
Part of her wanted to struggle, to free herself from his hold. The other part…
Carly awoke with a start, her body burning with a strange, damp, all-pervading heat. She was trembling all over, her nipples hard and tender where they pressed against the sheet.
