Kurt pulled a watch from his vest pocket. “It’s time,” he announced as a cry erupted from the group of vaqueros around the pen.
Kit appeared, and Kurt shook his head in disbelief. She was wearing the clothes of a matador—a shirtwaist of hand-drawn linen lace, a short jacket, and knee-length skintight trousers of blue silk, richly embroidered in gold and silver. His stunned gaze took in the coral-pink silk stockings and flat black slippers. Perched atop her hair was a montera—a torero hat made of tiny black silk chenille balls.
“A perfect fit, no?” Riguero beamed. “She borrowed the costume from her friend, the retired torero, Joselito Gomez.”
“Fine,” Kurt said brusquely as Kit walked toward him. Raising his voice loud enough for her to hear, he said, “But I didn’t come here to look at costumes. She said she was going to fight a bull, so let’s get on with it.”
Kit reached him, saucily grinning. She rested her elbows on the railing in front of him and said coquettishly, “Welcome, señor. I’m glad you could make it. It’s frustrating to put on a show without an audience.”
His jaw tensed. How far was she going to go, dammit? “Then let the show begin, señorita.”
Kit suddenly pretended surprise. Wide-eyed, she asked, “Did you know that five years ago the Spanish government declared it illegal for women to perform in bullrings?”
So this was the trick! She was going to tell him that he’d goaded her to do something against the law. Before he could say anything, she rushed on, “Yes. They did. Why, when the law was passed at the turn of the century, La Reverte, the famous señorita matadora, was forced to take off his wig and reveal himself as a man! Can you imagine that?”
“Is that what you’re going to do?” he snickered. “Or just back out of our deal by saying it’s illegal?”
“Neither.” Kit smiled innocently. “I just thought you’d want to hear a little history before the performance.
“Did you also know,” she continued, enjoying herself immensely, “that one of Goya’s etchings depicted a female torera performing in the Saragossa arena?”
Kurt said nothing, merely regarded her with cold eyes.
“So,” she finished triumphantly, “it would seem that you have much to learn about women, señor.”
“And you have much to learn about me,” he snapped impatiently, “such as how I don’t like game playing. You made a wager. Keep it, or give me my horse.”
Kit’s violet eyes flashed with rage. She raised her hand to signal the waiting vaqueros. Taking the red satin cape and ornate silver sword from Riguero, she turned on her heel and began to walk toward the center of the pen. She waved the cape at Kurt and cried, “Did you know that bulls are color-blind? They charge the matador if he uses a red or a white cape. You’re like a bull in so many ways, Tanner! In your own stubborn way, you’re just as blind!”
Kurt suddenly swore at Riguero, “Goddammit, what kind of trick is this? She’s going to get herself killed, unless you run a blind, crippled bull in there—”
“No, no, señor. “Riguero laughed heartily. “You will see. Just watch.”
Kurt had had enough. There was no way he would stand there and watch that foolish girl get herself hurt…or worse. “Enough!” he roared as the bull was about to be released. He raised himself up to swing over the railing. “That’s Malo. I know that bull, and he’s mean.”
He suddenly felt a gun pressed against his side. Riguero was smiling apologetically. “Sorry, señor, but the señorita, she say you are to watch, so please get off the railing and do as she asks.”
Kurt had no choice but to obey.
The bull roared into the ring and went straight for Kit. She spread the cloth in front of his snout and swung it smoothly by her side as he charged. Malo followed the cape past Kit. Then he turned and charged anew. Again she swung the cape, and the bull came frighteningly close to her slender body. As the bull made another charge, Kurt observed how deftly she worked, with complete control over the bull. Finally she gathered the cape against her body. Confused, the bull stopped short. Kit boldly turned her back in the traditional pose of mastery. The vaqueros rewarded her with a roar of “Ole!”
Kurt rubbed his eyes as if to dispel the amazing spectacle before him. There was no way he could deny that Kit knew exactly what she was doing. She displayed her mastery by letting the beast’s horn actually graze her chest!
Furiously Kurt’s hands clenched at his sides. So he’d been tricked by a woman once again! The little vixen had known exactly what she was doing when she had goaded him into accepting her challenge. He felt like a fool. He was a fool. The vaqueros standing there gloating would make sure that everyone heard about his humiliation. That, however, did not cause him concern. He’d never cared what others thought; he didn’t like the way he felt about himself. “All right,” he quietly told Riguero. “She wins.”
He turned to go, but the gun pressed against him once more.
“She wants you to see it all,” Riguero told him.
“Twist the sword in me instead of the bull, right?” Riguero shrugged and turned his eyes back to the pen. “She’s going to go to the faena,” he said, sounding worried.
At that moment, Kurt didn’t care if the bull gored her right in her smart little ass.
She executed a rebolera—holding her cape to her waist, she twirled as the bull passed, so that the cape stood up like the skirt of a pirouetting dancer. Kurt marveled at her skill, and, he had to admit, her courage. She swung her cape over her head, a movement that was especially dangerous because it made her lose sight of the bull at a critical moment. She then swept it behind her body, and knelt before him—the ultimate display of skill—and the ultimate laugh at death.
Finally Kit signaled to the vaqueros that she was victorious. She had successfully exhausted the bull. They came into the pen and drove Malo easily into the stable.
Breathless and excited, Kit accepted congratulations from her audience. She searched for Kurt Tanner, eager to enjoy her moment of triumph and glory.
Kit headed toward Riguero, hoping to find Kurt there. He was nowhere to be seen, however. She was disappointed but not surprised. She hadn’t really expected him to linger. Reaching Riguero, Kit said tonelessly, “He left.”
“Si. He said to give you this.”
She took the slip of paper and saw that it was the bill of sale Kurt had shown her earlier. He had signed possession of the Hispano over to her.
“He said nothing.” Riguero met her disappointed gaze. “But you were right. He wanted to stop the contest, then he wanted to leave before it was over. My men, they made him stay. Then he wrote on the paper and gave it to me. But he said nothing,” he repeated for emphasis. Then, watching her face, he added, “I could tell he was very, very angry.”
Kit shrugged. So what? She had won fair and square. It was his own fault if he felt foolish. He’d never even asked if she’d had any experience as a torera. Well, that’s what he got for being so stubborn and arrogant. “Thank you,” she said to Riguero. “You all did a good job for me, and I’ll see that you’re rewarded.”
“There is something else, señorita.” Kit looked at him expectantly.
“Your mother, she came looking for you.”
Kit reeled, gasping, “Oh, no! When?”
“During the faena…when you were doing the rebolera.”
“Where is she? Has she already gone?”
Riguero shook his head and pointed speechlessly.
Kit followed his gaze to a shady spot beneath a tree. Her mother lay on the ground, surrounded by vaqueros anxiously fanning her with their sombreros.
She had fainted.
Chapter Eleven
Kit felt like a prisoner. She was a prisoner, she fumed, in her own home! Pacing up and down her room, she paused occasionally to peer out the window at the guard posted below her balcony. Kit hoped that Carasia didn’t lose her job for lying. She’d only been obeying orders. Her mother had been so angry when none of the servants
would tell her anything that she’d gone to search for Kit herself. When she’d awakened after fainting, the nightmare had really begun. Kit had been waiting almost two days now for the family conference with a growing sense of dread.
Her father had arrived from Madrid a few hours ago, leaving the embassy right after receiving her mother’s frantic cable. Oh, damn, damn, damn, Kit cursed as she continued to pace. Why did her mother have to arrive at that moment? She had already been furious beyond the point of reason, and the sight of her daughter in the pen with a charging bull was more than she could take. Kit regretted the incident more than anything in the world, but what could she do now except apologize?
She heard a knock on her door as a carriage rattled into the circular driveway. She dared to peek out the window and felt a rush of hope at the sight of the family arriving—Kitty, Travis, and Marilee. It didn’t bother Kit that her mother had summoned them. Kitty would be on her side, as always. She would also have received Kit’s letter by now.
The knock on her door was louder and more insistent. “Whoever it is, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you in. I’m a prisoner, in case you didn’t know,” Kit called out dryly.
“I have the key, Kit. Is it all right for me to come in?”
It was her father. Kit’s anger fled, and she said quickly, “Yes, please do. I didn’t know it was you.”
Colt walked in, his expression serious. Kit faced him nervously, not knowing what to do or say. Then he held his arms open to her. She went to him immediately, gratefully accepting his hug as he told her what she already knew. “You’ve really done it this time, little girl. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your mother so mad.”
“I know,” Kit murmured against his broad shoulder. “I’m terribly sorry, but what can I do?”
He father motioned for her to sit down on the divan by the fireplace. “It’s a bad situation, Kit. You know that your mother has been after me for a long time to move back to New York.”
“And now you agree with her.”
“It’s not a matter of agreeing or not. She won’t be put off this time. Besides,” he added grimly, “there are serious rumors of war breaking out in Europe. I think it would be safer for all of us to leave Spain.”
“But that’s not fair to me, Daddy!” Kit cried. “I’m nearly eighteen. Many women my age are already married, with babies. I’m old enough to take care of myself and live my life the way I want—and I don’t want to go back to New York.” Kit searched his face, desperately seeking some sign that he understood, that he would yield and take her side.
“And I know all about the rumors of war,” she rushed on. “I know that the government of Spain says that if war does come, they’ll declare neutrality, so I’d be safe here.”
Colt frowned. “Safe doing what? Where would you live, Kit? What would you do?” He shook his head. “No, I feel that the family would be safer in America, and this time I’ve got to agree with your mother that it’s time to get you away from unhealthy influences.
“Quite frankly,” he went on, anger suddenly flashing in his steel-gray eyes, “I’m pretty upset with you myself. The idea of my daughter playing bullfighter does not make me happy. I let you ride with Doc’s vaqueros because I didn’t see any real harm in it. But bullfighting?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid that you’ve gone too far this time.
“And,” he added coolly, “I don’t even want to discuss the accusations the Estabans made about how you ruined their daughter’s birthday party.”
“Well, that’s all a lie, anyway. Let’s talk about me and my life.” She then said slowly, “Just what do you and Mother have planned for my life, since you think it’s perfectly all right to tell me how to live it.”
Ignoring her sarcasm, Colt said, pursing his lips, “I haven’t had time to really plan anything yet, Kit. This came about a bit suddenly, you know. Frankly, if your mother had her way, she’d have you on the next ship for New York, but there are details to be taken care of. I’ve got to resign my position with the embassy and tie things up there before I can leave, and there’s the ranch to sell.”
“And then?” she snapped.
“We move back to New York.”
“And where do we live?”
“Until we find a suitable house, your mother wants to take an apartment in the Osborne Building. It’s in a good location—on Fifty-seventh Street. The new apartments have fourteen rooms and six bathrooms—quite luxurious.”
Kit leaned back on the divan and folded her arms across her chest. Staring into the fireplace, she said with cold resolution, “I won’t go.”
Colt was unmoved. “Yes, Kit, you will. You don’t have any choice.”
Kit stood up suddenly, her eyes blazing with rebellious determination. “Oh, yes, I do! I have my trust fund, and I can use that to buy my own ranch. I’ve got it all figured out. Marilee is going away to finishing school, and Travis will go to West Point. Grandma can live with me. How could you object to that?”
“In the first place, I want you to be with me and your mother. In the second place, you don’t have the trust fund, not yet…not till I say so.”
“You mean not till Mother says so!” Kit said hotly. “Seems to me that she’s making all the decisions.”
“Don’t be impudent, Katherine,” Colt warned her. Kit cringed inwardly. When he called her Katherine, it meant he was dangerously close to losing his temper, and she knew that nothing would be accomplished then. “I’m sorry. It’s just that if the decision were up to you, you’d be more understanding.”
“Your mother and I don’t have that kind of marriage, thank goodness. We have equal say in decisions concerning you children.”
Kit’s lavender eyes flashed. “I’m not a child! That seems to be the whole point here, doesn’t it?”
Colt sighed, thinking how badly he needed a brandy. Jade had been absolutely incoherent, trying to describe the terrifying sight of the bull charging Kit. He couldn’t blame her for being upset, and the only way he’d managed to calm her down was to agree to return to America. But he hated seeing Kit so unhappy. It was a miserable situation all the way around. “We’ll talk more about this later, Kit. We’re both tired and upset right now.”
He headed to the door, but turned when he heard his daughter’s voice. Tears were running down her cheeks, and her lips were trembling.
“I love you, Daddy,” Kit whispered tremulously, “but I swear to you, I’ll run away before I’ll go back. My life is here now.”
Colt sighed, his heart going out to her. “Later, Kit.”
She ran to him, and he wrapped her in his arms once more. “Just promise me that you’ll at least consider letting me stay here.”
“I’ll consider it,” he promised, “but let’s have a family conference first, all right? We are a family, you know,” he reminded her with, a warm smile. “And, speaking of family, they’re all here. I know they’d like to see you, so dry those eyes.”
Despite her misery, Kit managed to joke, “Well, I guess you’ll have to give them the key, won’t you?”
He reached in his vest pocket and took out the key. Laying it on the table by the door, he winked. “Somehow I’ve got a feeling that with your old man around you won’t be climbing out any windows to go fight bulls.”
He turned to leave, then remembered to ask, “By the way, that magnificent horse in the barn—where’d you get him?”
“He’s mine,” she informed him proudly. “I won him in a race.”
Colt smiled, unable to hide his pleasure that his daughter was such an accomplished horsewoman. “Congratulations. Does your mother know you’ve been racing for wagers?”
Kit shook her head.
“Well, we won’t tell her. I’m afraid she can’t take any more at the moment.” With another wink, he left.
Kit started pacing her room again. She desperately wanted to see Kitty, but she knew that her mother would be hysterically relating her side of the story. She’d have to wait.
After an hour passed, Carasia came to tell her that tea was being served on the summer porch, and she was expected.
Kit hurried downstairs. She blinked back tears of joy when Kitty stepped into the foyer, holding her arms open in loving greeting. She ran to her grandmother and hugged her tightly. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you! I’ve never needed you more!”
“Shush now. Don’t you dare cry. Everything’s going to be all right, I promise, and—”
“Kit! Kitty!’’
They both turned at the sound of Jade’s sharp voice. “In here, please.”
As they went in, holding hands, Jade glared at Kitty. “I thought you agreed that we’d have this family conference before you went behind my back and took sides against me.”
“When have I ever gone behind your back to take sides, Jade? You know I’ve always been very open with my opinion that you smother Kit.”
Jade stiffened and looked to Colt for support. As always, he glanced away, not willing to get involved in a confrontation between his wife and his mother.
Travis was sitting by the window, looking bored. He gave Kit a polite nod, but she saw at once that his eyes held condemnation.
Marilee sat on the wicker lounge, eyes wide with excitement.
No one said anything as Carasia nervously served the tea and sandwiches. When she left, closing the door behind her, Jade said, “Let’s get this over with. Everyone knows what Kit has done, and I think everyone agrees that it’s best we move back to New York, and take her away from such harmful influences.”
Kit objected angrily. “Well, I don’t agree, and it’s my life we’re talking about. I love Spain, and I don’t want to live anywhere else.”
Travis got to his feet and faced her, his expression stern. “What you did was foolish and dangerous, Kit. You weren’t thinking of anybody but yourself, and you were wrong to cause Mother so much distress. I agree that it’s time to get you away from here, because you’re turning into a spoiled brat, if you want to know my opinion.”
“I don’t care what you think!” Kit cried furiously. “What I do is none of your business, Travis, and I’ll thank you to stay out of it.”
Love and Honor: The Coltrane Saga, Book 7 Page 10