Catch a Dream

by Cynthia Breeding

  “Miguel?”

  He frowned. “Lily. Do you think maybe Elizabeth is telling the truth?”

  “Sweet, I think you’re the one who’s insane if you believe that.” Lily patted his hand and stilled his tapping fingers on the table. “More than likely, she left some wagon train headed for California’s gold. Maybe some young man lured her out, maybe she needed to attend to nature. You know how the Comanche trail those wagons. However it happened, Elizabeth was probably raped and knocked unconscious. Either of those things could cause her not to remember, and certainly to be frightened of Swift Hawk.”

  It made sense. Olga had said Elizabeth had a knot on her head, although he hadn’t seen any bruises and he had definitely looked over almost every square inch of her. Having been abducted was more rational than time-travel, as she called it. He breathed a sigh of relief. No one was crazy, after all.

  “What are you going to do with her?” Lily asked.

  “I have no idea. I told her she can stay at the hacienda for awhile; maybe she’ll remember something.”

  “You can bring her here, if you like. If I think she’s trainable, I’ll give her a chance. You know my girls don’t have a hard life.”

  The image of Elizabeth, nude and writhing beneath some soldier or ranch hand seared through his mind like a branding iron. Another man’s mouth on her soft, sensual lips, another man’s hand caressing the fullness of her breast—it was too much. He clenched his fists.

  “She must be awfully pretty.”

  “Why do you say that?” Miguel forced his voice to stay calm.

  A knock on the door interrupted them and Lily smiled and stood. “I’ve haven’t ever seen you look so besotted. Usually, you don’t take your women too seriously.”

  “I’m not taking her seriously. I just—”

  “Maybe you should go home and take care of your woman.” She patted his arm and opened the door.

  “She isn’t my woman,” he called after her, but all he heard was her laughter. He was irritated momentarily, and then he grew thoughtful. Maybe what Elizabeth needed to bring her memory back was a man with a slow hand. He grinned suddenly, remembering the hours he’d spent in bed making sure his various lovers had their pleasure. No woman had ever accused him of rushing the moment of her release.

  • ♥ •

  Olga had brought Elizabeth buttered toast and fresh milk this morning, but Elizabeth knew she couldn’t hide in the guest room forever. Tentatively, she wandered down to the kitchen near noon, hoping she would—or would not—see Miguel. She wasn’t sure if she was—or was not—disappointed to find out he wasn’t there.

  After much clucking and fussing on the housekeeper’s part, Elizabeth realized how ravenous she really was and ate enough roast with gravied potatoes and homemade bread to equal any of the ranch hands who passed through the kitchen. She’d gain thirty pounds if she kept this up. Well, she wouldn’t be here that long—she just had to figure out how to use the fetish right.

  She tilted her face up now to catch the late afternoon winter sun as she walked through Olga’s garden, the collie padding silently beside her. At least she had one friend here. She let her hand travel along the soft fur of the dog’s coat and was rewarded with Brina leaning against her leg, tail wagging.

  The garden was a pleasant spot behind the main house, tucked away from wind and noise by thick adobe walls. A graveled walkway, lined with sturdy holly, bright with red berries this time of year, led through the arbor entrance. To her left was the plot for the spring vegetable garden and to her right, a profusion of purple ligustrum and pyracantha hedges enclosed flowerbeds, creating almost a maze. Honeysuckle vines hung along one of the walls and what looked like orange trumpet vines along another. To the far back was the rose garden. In the summer, this whole garden would be fragrant with scent.

  In the center of the massive outlay rose a huge stone fountain, its marble centerpiece a rearing Andalusian stallion. It reminded Elizabeth of the one she had seen in the barn on her arrival. She sank down on one of the benches facing the fountain. How she’d love to ride one of those fantastic horses!

  “Who are you?”

  Startled, she turned to see a young boy staring at her with wide, hazel eyes. His dark hair hung over his forehead and he was, more or less, covered in dirt. Even his face held smudges. Whoever his mother was, she would not be pleased with the condition of what looked like new clothes.

  “My name’s Elizabeth. I’m a guest here.”

  The boy gave her a mischievous grin and moved closer. With that smile, Elizabeth knew she must be looking at Miguel’s son.

  “Are you Miss Katy’s replacement?” he asked.

  “Who’s Miss Katy?”

  “Miss Katy was supposed to take care of me, but she ran away. At least, that’s what Papá said. I’m Raul.” He gestured proudly, one dirty hand sweeping the landscape. “My father owns all of this.” He turned back to her. “Are you going to take care of me?”

  “I don’t know, Raul. I may be here just a few days.” Surely, she’d be able to figure out what happened soon.

  The boy raised an eyebrow, the gesture looking so like Miguel. “Papá doesn’t usually bring pretty girls home. I heard Miss Olga scolding him once when he did, a long time ago.”

  Elizabeth smiled. The boy couldn’t be more than seven. “Long ago” might have meant only a few weeks. Still, she was pleased for no reason that Olga had lit into Miguel. He should know better than to bring around one of his “working girls”.

  “Except for Miss Katy,” Raul said. “He liked her.”

  Katy. Elizabeth was beginning to suspect Katy might have been more than just a nanny. Still, why had she run away from Miguel? Could he possibly be really dangerous? Or even cruel? She shivered a little and then memories of Miguel’s touch yesterday morning sent a thousand tiny pricks of heat piercing her skin and her face burned as she pictured his mouth just inches from hers when she’d stopped him. His hand had been so gentle…She was so not going there. Definitely not.

  Raul plopped down beside her. “Where are you from?”

  Elizabeth hesitated, her mind reeling. She certainly couldn’t tell him the truth and she hated lying. “A place that you probably haven’t heard of. It’s called Arlington.”

  He frowned momentarily. “I don’t like geography.” A sly expression came across his face. “Do you want to see what I found today?”

  Elizabeth nodded, thinking he really was a pleasant, friendly child.

  Raul reached into his pocket and quickly pulled out a small, striped garter snake, which he dangled in front of her. He laughed as she involuntarily shrank back. “Shucks, it ain’t poisonous. I like snakes, don’t you?”

  “Raul!” Miguel thundered as he strode through the arbor toward his son. “Throw that thing away right now and stop scaring the lady. Then, you can go find your own switch for your swats. And make it a strong one.”

  Raul turned pale and he looked like a fallen angel. Elizabeth’s “teacher mode” took over. There had been too many times, when she had been a substitute teacher, that students had tried to find her weak points. A few had even tried to intimidate her.

  Briskly, Elizabeth reached for the snake and curled it in her hand. Raul’s eyes widened, and even Miguel stopped in mid-step. Now, if she could just keep her own skin from crawling at the scaly feel. She clenched her teeth momentarily, forcing herself not to think about the creature.

  “I don’t think there’s any need for a spanking. As you can see, Raul didn’t scare me.” Deliberately, she put the snake on the ground where it gratefully slithered away. She resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her dress. She turned to Raul. “However, don’t try to scare me again. Is that understood?”

  He nodded mutely, his eyes still huge.

  Miguel placed a firm hand on his son’s shoulder. “I didn’t hear you say you’re sorry. Apologize to the lady. And mean it.”

  “I’m sorry. I really am.” Raul looked into Elizabeth’s eyes
and respect began to grow in his. “You really weren’t scared, were you?”

  “That’s enough,” Miguel answered. “Go to your room and stay there. You may have been saved from a switching, but you’re still going to be punished. Go.”

  They watched him run toward the house and then Miguel sat down on the bench beside Elizabeth. Instantly, she was aware of the maleness radiating from him, even though a respectable space was between them.

  He grinned. “Good acting on your part. Maybe you’ve been on the stage?”

  Elizabeth bristled. “I was not scared. Just a little surprised.”

  “Is that why your hand shook?”

  “It did not.”

  “It did.” Miguel reached over and picked up her hand, turning it over. He pulled his bandana from around his neck and wiped the palm clean. Then he placed a soft kiss in it before releasing her hand. “There. All better.”

  Elizabeth grasped her hand with the other one, to keep them both from shaking uncontrollably. If the man ever got any idea of how she reacted to him— well, he’d never find out. Still, his strong fingers holding hers, the gentle pressure of his other hand—and his lips, brushing her skin, lingering just long enough for the sensation to spread.

  Miguel watched her with an almost amused expression on his face. She had a sneaking suspicion he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on her. She looked down in embarrassment.

  He leaned forward. “For what it’s worth, you did a good job handling Raul.”

  Elizabeth nodded, and hoped her voice would not squeak. “I’m a teacher.”

  A slight look of annoyance flickered over his face. “You still think you’re from another century?”

  She looked straight into his eyes. “I know I am.”

  Miguel stood. “You’re not. Lily thinks you got—kidnapped maybe—from some wagon train and got a bad blow to your head.”

  “Lily?” Elizabeth stood, too, her temper rising. “You went to a madam and told her about me? Why?”

  “Lily is an old friend. I wanted to know if she’d hired you.”

  “I told you I wasn’t that kind of girl!” Elizabeth was so furious she wanted to stamp her foot, but she was a grown woman. Still. Did nothing penetrate that man’s skull?

  “Hard to prove, given what you were wearing, waiting for me in the barn.”

  Elizabeth reminded herself she was a guest in his house, but her temper flared anyway. “I was not “waiting” for you, you arrogant bastard!” She put her hand to her mouth too late…the word had slipped out.

  But Miguel laughed. “I can assure you that a bastard is one thing I am not. My father’s lineage dates back to medieval Spanish royalty, and my mother’s bloodline to the Templars.” He shrugged. “I’ll give you arrogant, though. Maybe.”

  “Maybe? You’re the most—”

  His mouth twitched. “You really are beautiful when you’re mad, Red.”

  Of all the infuriating things to say! And to call her “Red”! No one had dared to call her that since she was a child and that one had carried a black eye for days. Her hand swung up instinctively.

  He caught it. His grip, although not painful, felt like steel. “That’s one game you don’t want to play with me.”

  His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. Looking into his eyes, Elizabeth knew he meant it. She could sense the animal power in him. The danger if she pushed him too far. But she was seething inside and not ready to be rational. He still thought she was a whore. That hurt. Nothing could be further from the truth, but obstinate as he was, he wouldn’t believe her. He had to be the most infuriating man she had ever met. She lifted her chin. “What would you do?”

  For an instant, surprise flickered in his eyes and then they turned even darker. He released her arm suddenly and leaned close, his breath tickling her ear. “Do you really want to find out, Red?”

  He turned and walked away, leaving her to stare after him. What did he mean by that? A thrill of excitement pulsed through her as she wondered. She felt she was treading a very precarious path. Just how far could she push him?

  And where did she get the idea she wanted to push him? She didn’t know, but the shiver that went down her spine had nothing to do with the weather.

  CHAPTER FIVE—QUESTIONS

  “Ouch!” Elizabeth gasped, tears stinging her eyes as Cactus Flower gave another hard pull on the laces of the corset as they prepared for a dinner that included guests. “How can you stand wearing these things?” She hung onto the bedpost, the whalebone painfully digging into her sides.

  “Here.” Cactus Flower lifted the blue satin gown over Elizabeth’s head and tugged it down and then frowned. “You’re so much taller than I am. With the crinoline, your entire ankle shows.”

  The dress was a snug fit for Elizabeth. Her breasts, already pushed up alarmingly by the effects of the corset, strained against the bodice, threatening to pop out. Miguel would think she was a hooker, for sure. “I can’t wear this.”

  Cactus Flower held up a yellow redingote. “This is worn open with an under-dress, but I think it’s even shorter.” She laid the coatdress on the bed. “Those are the only two gowns I own. Don Miguel really doesn’t entertain much.”

  Elizabeth considered. The garment would cover more of her shoulders, but it was cut lower than her present dress. She sighed. It was bad enough that Miguel thought her a prostitute; she certainly didn’t want Army officers thinking the same thing. She would just have to keep her feet under the table and breathe lightly. She doubted whether she could eat at all with the corset lacing her in. A vision of Scarlett O’Hara having Mammy tug her corset tight for the Twelve Oaks picnic flashed through her mind and she grinned. There was an Irish girl who would know how to handle Miguel.

  “What’s so funny?” Cactus Flower asked.

  She shook her head. “I was just thinking of a story character from the Civil War…” She trailed off, looking at the Indian girl’s puzzled face. My god! The Civil War hadn’t taken place yet! These people would have no idea of how this nation would be ripped apart. Brother against brother. A part of history she didn’t particularly want to relive. She had to stay calm. There must be a way back. “I meant…uh…the War of 1812. I’ll tell you about it someday.”

  Cactus Flower looked puzzled. “You say some of the strangest things. I think, though, that we should go to the dining room and get you seated before the guests arrive.”

  Elizabeth agreed whole-heartedly. The less of her that could be seen, the better. She would have been happy to stay in her room, but Miguel said too many rumors would start if he didn’t present her tonight. She hoped she’d have time to relax first.

  But one person was already waiting when they got to the dining room

  • ♥ •

  Swift Hawk turned from the window as they entered, his black eyes resting their gaze on Elizabeth’s breasts. Dressed in his usual leggings, he had added a long, leather tunic edged with fringe. He wore soft moccasins on his feet and had braided his hair with a dangling hawk’s feather. He scowled at Cactus Flower.

  “I see you adopt the white man’s ways all too well.”

  She lifted her chin. “And you refuse to adopt them at all. Don Miguel has bought you a suit. Why don’t you wear it?”

  He ignored her and turned to Elizabeth, reaching to touch her hair. “Fire Woman. It is only because of you that I agreed to come to this table tonight. You will sit beside me.”

  She tried not to shrink back from him visibly. A menacing power emanated from him, almost the opposite of the magnetism she felt around Miguel. This was raw need and survival, like a lone, lobo wolf.

  She took a slight step to the side, away from his touch, which only made him smile and step closer. This time, his fingers gripped her arm like steel talons. She repressed a shudder. What would Scarlett O’Hara do? Her head came up and her eyes flashed green fire. “Take your hand off me.”

  “You heard the lady, Hawk. Do it.”

  Elizabeth whirled at t
he sound of Miguel’s voice and then inhaled sharply. If she’d thought he looked good—and she did—in denims and a work shirt, the man striding toward her now was beyond the wildest fantasy she’d ever had.

  He was dressed in black, except for a dazzlingly white, starched shirt, which only set off his tan and dark eyes and hair. The roundabout jacket hugged his broad shoulders—she hadn’t really noticed before just how broad they were—and tapered at the waist, just above his taut, flat belly. Soft leather pants fit his thigh muscles like a second skin, flaring enough at the bottom to fit over hand-tooled boots. The leather rippled as he walked, leaving Elizabeth aching to run her hands over it and—what? Unzip his pants? She felt herself blush. The men she conjured up in her dreams were hot enough, but Miguel was making her sizzle—and he hadn’t even touched her. What was wrong with her?

  And then, he was beside her, smelling of fresh soap and a slightly spicy after-shave. Even clean-shaven, there was no denying the shadow darkness where the stubble would be tomorrow morning. She wondered what his cheek would feel like against hers.

  “You’ll sit next to me,” he said and took her elbow to guide her toward the head of the table.

  He pulled the chair for her and as she sat down, the crinoline hoop caught and pushed her skirt up, exposing her thighs.

  Miguel’s mouth twitched as he blocked Swift Hawk’s view with his body and pushed down the hoop. “For my part, you could hike your skirt to your hips and I’d be pleased, but I’d better get you some dresses that don’t pose such a danger. No sense having our guests know you’re a working girl. I’d rather that be our little secret.”

  Her lust turned its heat into hurt and she jerked her skirt away from him. He would never believe her. Even if he did shield her from Swift Hawk’s view, he was only being nice because he thought he could bed her, like one of Lily’s girls. “I won’t be staying.”