“That is possible,” Hank agreed. “What will you do?”
“Leave. This afternoon, I will go. Another day and you wouldn’t have found me here, Mr. Chavez.”
“Surely you have not found a buyer already?” Hank was alarmed.
“A buyer? No, I—”
“Then you will be willing to accept my offer?”
“You misunderstand. I’m not selling this land.”
“But you are leaving.”
“Yes, and I won’t be back until my daughter is returned to me. But, as I said, this is my daughter’s home. I won’t disappoint her by selling it.”
Hank was seething, and it was all he could do not to show it. How could he have made such a mistake? Kingsley intended to come back, despite all the harassment, despite the kidnapping.
“I do not understand you, señor. You profess to a great love for your daughter, yet you will bring her back here? Put her in the same danger? What if the bandido feels you have tricked him and kills her?”
“Once I have my daughter back. El Carnicero is a dead man. I have already hired the best manhunters in the country. He will never touch my daughter again.”
Hank asked stiffly, “Is your daughter so young that you expect her to go on living here with you for many years?”
“No, she’s grown up, but what—”
“That is the impression I got when you mentioned your neighbor as a possible son-in-law,” Hank continued quickly. “Why then do you insist on holding on to this land for her? She may marry soon and leave it.”
“That is neither here nor there,” Kingsley said with a touch of annoyance. “The property will belong to her completely when she does marry, deeded to her as a wedding present. That was arranged long ago. Whether she lives here or with her husband somewhere else, she will always have this place to come home to.”
“And you will be here waiting for her?” Hank said drily.
“No. It will be hers alone, as I said. I have land across the border I plan to retire to. This is why I am hoping for an alliance between Samantha and the Baroja heir. That will combine the two properties here, and I will be less than a week’s ride from either one of them.” Kingsley brought himself back to the present.
“I am sorry, Mr. Chavez. I realize this land means a great deal to you. Tell me, how did it pass from your family?”
“That would not interest you now, not under the circumstances,” Hank replied in a level voice. “But your daughter, do you think she would consider selling, once the land is hers?”
“That would be up to her and her husband, Mr. Chavez. But I doubt it. Samantha loves this land.”
“Perhaps I should court your daughter and marry her then.”
Kingsley missed the sarcastic tone and laughed, relieved that Hank was accepting defeat gracefully. “I can’t say I’d want you courting my daughter, not with that ulterior motive. But then, you haven’t met her, Mr. Chavez. You could very easily lose your heart to her, and this land would be only a bonus—if she would accept you, that is.”
Hank left while he still had his emotions under control. To think that if Samantha had accepted him before, he would have come to Mexico to find that he had the woman he wanted and his land as well! And without spending a penny to get back his own land! If only he had won Samantha! If only she had not loved another man. If only she had understood about Adrien.
There were too many ifs. Now there was only hate between them, and a kind of twisted desire on his part. Yes, he could admit now that he still wanted to possess her even though he hated her.
But he wouldn’t. He would fight temptation to the bitter end. He would frighten her with it. He would make her wonder. But he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing he cared.
And her father? Perdición! The man intended to leave, get his daughter back, and then return. Hank had not even considered that. He should have demanded that Kingsley sell and leave, not just leave. What the hell could he do about it now?
Chapter 23
THE sun was setting behind the mountains as Hank and Lorenzo neared their abandoned village, two and a half days later, in record time. Hank’s mood had not improved with the hard riding.
They began the climb up the narrow ledge of the canyon that led to the opening and the village. The light was dim, but they would make it home before it was completely dark, so there was no need for torches.
Indeed it was light enough to see the lone rider who came around a turn far ahead and started down the ledge at a reckless pace.
“Por Dios!” exclaimed Lorenzo. “It is she!”
Samantha stopped, seeing them halfway down the canyon, blocking the path. For several moments she didn’t move, and neither did the riders below. Then she frantically urged her horse to move backward. But the animal was not trained to that and wouldn’t budge.
The ledge was wide, but not wide enough for what she attempted. Hank gasped as she made the horse rear up on his hind legs, forcing him to turn around. The ledge was not as wide as the horse was long, and if he brought his forelegs down, both horse and rider would plummet hundreds of feet to the rocky canyon floor.
“She is loca!” Lorenzo cried.
But Hank was thinking that she was more than crazy, she was an idiot to risk her life like that. But then, in a moment, she succeeded. A second later she was riding back to the opening in the cliff wall as though the devil were on her trail. And she would think the devil had found her when he caught up with her, Hank vowed grimly.
Beyond the village, at the opposite end of the valley, a mountain stream wound down a boulder-strewn surface and, eventually, found its way to the base of the mountains. It was not an easy exit, but it could be used if one was careful, and it was a way out of the valley.
Did Samantha know about it? Hank started after her, careless of the narrow path he raced along.
Samantha sped past the village, praying desperately that the valley was not a dead end. Pasqual saw her as he stepped out of one of the houses, but she didn’t care. It was the man behind her on that powerful white stallion she worried about, the man who wasn’t supposed to be here.
God, why had he returned so early? Her plan had been perfect, but had hinged on his being gone for as long as he’d said he would. What was he doing back here so soon? She had been so close! It wasn’t fair to find Hank blocking the only exit she knew. She had thought to have another day for sure, maybe even two.
The valley was narrowing. Gnarled trees were closing in on both sides, casting great shadows, making everything dark. She didn’t dare look back. She would die if she saw El Rey charging close behind her. The mustang she rode was already winded. She would never have a chance to outrun the white stallion.
Samantha screamed as a rope bit into her breasts. She looked down to find a lasso around her. She tried to pull it off quickly, but the rope tightened, nearly pulling her off the horse.
“Ease up now, Sam, or I will unseat you.”
The voice was so close, so loud that it thundered inside her head. Tears filled her eyes as she slowed her mount to a standstill, but she wouldn’t let him see her cry. Wiping her eyes, she turned and glared as he walked El Rey slowly up to her. He wore a poncho and a wide sombrero that did not hide the dark stubble on his chin. He looked more like a dangerous bandido than ever. He also looked furious, and she saw that Lorenzo had not come with him. They were alone here, hidden by the trees and bushes, far from camp.
“Get down!” he ordered curtly.
“I will not.”
He didn’t ask again, but started to tug on the rope. Samantha quickly threw a leg over her horse so that she could land on her feet.
“What are you going to do?” she demanded angrily, more than a little nervous.
“I will take you back to camp.”
“Then why must I get off the horse?”
“That horse is not for your use,” he said sharply, and she could tell that he was making an effort to keep from shouting. “You exhausted him a
nd frightened him cruelly with that stupid maneuver on the canyon ledge. You could both have died.”
“I knew what I was doing,” she retorted.
His voice rose steadily as he said, “You risked your life and the horse’s after you gave me your word you would not try to escape!”
Samantha paled. She had forgotten her promise. She had never broken her word before. But this was different, she told herself stubbornly.
“My word to a bandit does not bind me,” she said with icy disdain.
“You may feel that way now, mujer, but you will wish you had not!” he warned darkly. He tugged her to him and held out a stiff hand. “Get on!”
“I will walk.”
Hank accepted her pronouncement without trying to dissuade her, not even once. He turned El Rey around, and the rope bit into the place just above Samantha’s waist, where it had slipped to. El Rey began a slow trot, and she had to run to keep from being dragged across the ground.
Hank made her run for more than a mile. She had gone several miles before he had caught up with her. Would he make her run the whole way back to camp? She wasn’t sure she could make it. Already her legs felt like dead weights. But she wouldn’t ask him to stop. He knew very well what he was doing to her. Damn him! He knew, and he was showing no mercy. Well, she would die before she would beg.
Then suddenly she tripped, falling facedown on the hard ground. She didn’t have strength enough to get up and was dragged several yards before a rock jabbed her ribs and she cried out. Hank stopped. She rolled to a sitting position, moaning, and at last the tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Will you ride now?” he asked, but she couldn’t allow herself to give in.
“I cannot bear to be near you,” she hissed, pushing herself to her feet even though her trembling legs nearly gave out. “I will walk!”
He yanked on the rope, making her stumble forward, but he kept the spirited El Rey to a slower pace. All Samantha needed to do was keep walking, not attempt to stop, and she would be able to keep up without being dragged.
She was raging. He didn’t have to refuse her the horse, insisting she ride with him. He had known she would refuse to do that. He was forcing her to walk, using her pride against her.
Her legs were killing her. And her breathing was getting so ragged she thought her lungs would burst. She fell once more before they reached the village, but this time Hank didn’t stop, and she had to force herself back to her feet or be torn to shreds on the rough ground. Her clothes were ruined. Two buttons on her shirt had been ripped off, exposing the lace camisole. The skin above her breasts was scraped a vivid red. She had managed to get her arms out from the loop around her, but there was not enough slack in the rope to slip it off. Her hands were burning from holding onto the tight rope to steady herself. But she wouldn’t cry. She would rather hate Hank for doing this to her.
When the rope finally loosened, Samantha dropped to her knees, gasping for breath. She stayed on her knees while the men stared. They were in front of Hank’s house. Pablo stood on the porch holding a lantern that cast a bright, unwelcome light. The old man was speechless with shock at Samantha’s broken appearance. Others soon appeared, including Lorenzo, who was shocked—but not speechless.
“You dare to treat her this way!” he growled furiously, catching Hank’s arm as he dismounted. “Madre de Dios! Why?”
“Stay out of it, Lorenzo.”
“Not this time. Look at her!”
Hank did, and in the bright light he saw at last what he had done to her. But through her tear-streaked eyes Samantha was glaring murderously at him, and the remorse he might have felt didn’t surface because of the fury being directed at him.
“She is a trifle worn out,” Hank said carelessly. “She brought it on herself.”
“She only tried to escape,” Lorenzo replied heatedly. “You cannot blame her for that.”
“Can’t I?” Hank hissed. “She gave me her word that she would not.”
“You ask too much.”
“No, I expect better of her. You forget I knew her before this.”
“But did you have to do this to her?” Lorenzo’s voice was quieter. “You had caught her. She could go no farther. Did you have to drag her?”
“I offered to take her on my horse, but she refused. As I said, she brought this on herself.”
“I cannot believe—”
“Ask her!” Hank snapped.
Lorenzo did, but Samantha stubbornly shook her head, refusing to corroborate Hank’s version.
“She lies,” Hank said darkly, a black storm gathering in his eyes. “As she lied to me when she gave her word to stay here. As she has lied about many things.”
Samantha tensed, wishing she had not tried pitting Lorenzo against him by denying the truth. She had only succeeded in making matters worse.
“Pablo, set water to boil,” Hank was saying. “La señorita will need a bath.”
He tossed the reins of El Rey to Inigo and dismissed the others standing around with a glance. But Lorenzo would not let it go at that.
“We are not finished here, Rufino,” he said bitterly.
“Sí, we are.” Hank turned to him menacingly. “I will not be questioned about her, amigo. If you do not like the way I treat her, you can leave now.”
“Let it be, Lorenzo,” Samantha said in a barely audible whisper. “Please.”
“But, señorita—”
“No, he was right—I lied. He…he did offer me a ride, and I refused.”
Lorenzo’s shoulders fell. He faced Hank, his expression contrite. “I will bring Nita to see to her.”
“No.”
What now? she wondered miserably.
“But she will need help with her bath and salve for her scratches,” Lorenzo persisted.
“I will tend her,” Hank replied coldly, turning his back on Lorenzo.
“But you cannot!” Lorenzo protested, anger rising again. “A woman should help her. You cannot—”
“Basta ya!” Hank cut him off sharply as he swung around, his eyes glassy silver with suppressed rage. “The woman is known to me. I will not see anything I have not seen before. Do you understand, Lorenzo?”
The shock, the embarrassment on Lorenzo’s face shamed Samantha. He did indeed understand. No one was to have learned about that—ever. But now Lorenzo knew, and probably thought the worst of her.
“Tell him why you know me so well!” Samantha cried furiously, wishing she had the strength to slap Hank’s hateful face.
“You tell him, querida,” Hank replied in a deceptively quiet tone. “But be sure to include the before and after.”
Samantha was crestfallen. She could only stare at Hank, damning him with her eyes. She knew exactly what he was implying. How could she cry rape after she had let him do all those passionate things to her first? And, as far as he was concerned, he had paid for everything when she shot him later. It was not a story that made her look like an innocent victim.
“I do not understand this quarrel between you two.” Lorenzo broke the tense silence.
“It’s none of your business, Lorenzo,” she snapped.
With a desperate effort, she tried pushing herself to her feet. She managed to stand, wobbly, and when Hank and Lorenzo moved to help her, she screamed, “Don’t you touch me, either of you!”
She used the railing to pull herself up the steps to the porch. When Hank came up behind her and scooped her up, she wasn’t grateful.
“Animal!” she hissed. “I don’t want your help.”
“You will have it anyway, niña,” he replied, gently this time. He carried her into the house without another word between them.
Samantha would always remember that night. She was forced to accept Hank’s tender ministrations, too tired and sore to struggle against him. He bathed her, stripping her down to nothing and carrying her to the tub. And all she could do was cry. The water was scalding, and he made her sit in it for what seemed hours. Then he carried her to t
he bed and toweled her dry all over, taking an undue amount of time at it.
“My arms don’t hurt,” she protested.
But her hands did hurt, and she couldn’t stop him. And all the while he tended her, his face wore a closed look. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and she was too tired to wonder if the sight of her so weak and vulnerable was affecting him. He was gentle when he applied salve to her chest and hands, but he could have been treating a stranger for all it showed on his face. When he moved to her bare legs to massage her aching muscles, she moaned beneath his touch, not because of the intimacy, but from the pain his fingers were causing.
Then he was finished, and she opened her eyes despite the shame she felt. She found him staring down at her, his expression no longer shuttered. She recognized the burning look in those gray eyes, and what she saw wasn’t anger.
His eyes traveled slowly down the length of her exposed beauty, as if weighing her condition against his desire. Then he took the blanket from the foot of the bed and covered her.
“Sleep well, little one,” he murmured softly, speaking Spanish.
The Spanish words rang in her ears as Hank shut the door, closing her in darkness. Why did he so often do that? He didn’t know she understood Spanish. Did he hope to make her wonder what he was saying? Oh, why couldn’t she just leave this place and forget about him?
Chapter 24
“WHY do you never wear your gun when you come into this room, Hank?”
Samantha was sitting up in bed, leaning back against the wall, her legs bent and hidden under her peasant skirt. She had spent all day yesterday in bed, though it hadn’t been necessary. Her legs hadn’t hurt nearly as badly as she had expected. Perhaps it was the hot water. Or Hank’s gentle massage. But she had stayed in bed, forcing him to wait on her.
She felt fine today, but she was in a testy mood. She had not forgiven Hank.
“Are you afraid I might try to take it from you?” she goaded, when he didn’t respond.
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