“Well? Are you game or would you rather play it safe? I can have a gentler mare and the side-saddle brought.”
Her chin came up defiantly. She was no coward. If this were a ticket to ride the range, she’d do it. Only thing was, she’d have to win. She really had to. She took a deep breath. “I’m game.”
Miguel looked surprised and gestured to the road. “I’ll be chivalrous and give you a head start.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it. She couldn’t afford to lose. Yet she wanted to win as an equal. Maybe just a wee bit of a head start, though—
“Why wait to get to the gate?” she asked. “Let the starting line be here.” With that, she dug her heels in and loosened the reins, bending over Plata’s neck as the mare leaped into full gallop.
She heard a muffled curse and then Diablo’s pounding hooves behind her. She bent lower over the mare and urged her on. “Come on, girl, we can do it!”
Plata snorted and gave an extra burst of speed, stretching flat out, her stride so smooth it was as though they weren’t moving at all. Only the wind whipping the mare’s mane in her face told her differently. Diablo was still behind them and the tree loomed up ahead, slightly to the right of the road. She was going to win! Yes! Her reward would be to ride the range and do real cowboy things. Miguel couldn’t deny her! He promised!
Then she saw a blur veer off the road. Diablo jumped a low sagebrush and slid to a stop, hooves churning up dust, directly in front of the tree.
Elizabeth reined in Plata as they approached. “That wasn’t fair. You didn’t stay on the road.”
“Was that one of the rules? Your start wasn’t exactly fair, either.” He slipped down and came around to her and held up his arms. “Come here.”
A dozen butterflies left their perches in her stomach, all fluttering their wings at the same time. Dear Lord, what was he going to do? “Umm. Couldn’t we just ride a little more?”
An eyebrow shot up. “You surprise me, Red. I didn’t think you’d go back on your word.”
Ouch. Her father had always been adamant about not breaking a promise. Trembling a little, she brought her leg over the saddle horn and let him help her down.
He kept his hands around her waist as he backed her away from the horses. “I believe the agreement was winner’s choice.”
Elizabeth took a deep gulp of air. She wasn’t sure if she were shaking with anxiety or anticipation. “Yes. Within reason, of course.”
“I don’t remember that being in the rules, either.”
Okay. Time to lay the cards on the table. She met his look. “What do you want, then?”
His eyes grew darker as he pulled her toward him and let his hands roam her back, fingers treading gently, then palms following in firm, broad strokes. Everywhere he caressed, her skin came alive, nerve endings tingling with warmth. By the saints, maybe the man was really Merlin, for his touch was magic.
He slanted his mouth against hers, his tongue gliding over her lips, teasing her to want more of him. Elizabeth gave an involuntary moan and he deepened the kiss, his tongue probing now, filling her mouth. Oh, the slightly salty taste of that velvet tongue! He varied the pressure, slowing down for gentle playful kisses then building her passion again with long deep ones. He was devouring her, making love to her mouth until she was nearly senseless. She felt her resolve taking wing, like a flushed quail.
He crushed her to his chest, his erection hard against her belly. Suddenly, her whole body ached with need, nerve fibers demanding more skin, more closeness, the hot wet throbbing between her legs demanding to feel him there.
As if reading her mind, he cupped her buttocks and pressed himself to her, gyrating his hips. Dear Lord, the sensation was like none she’d ever experienced. If he hadn’t been holding her, she would have slipped to the ground because her knees had jellied. But that wasn’t where she was concentrating. Oh, no. The pulsation where his shaft jutted against her repeatedly was building, getting stronger, taking over her body, her soul. And then the contraction started, deep within her, her body clenching itself onto nothing as then wave after tremulous wave washed over her. Had Miguel not had complete possession of her mouth, she would have screamed loud enough to be heard in the next county.
He slowed his movements, letting her experience the aftershock and then broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against hers, both of them panting softly.
Eventually, he straightened and leaned back. “That was a taste, Red. I want you to want me—to make love together.”
What had she just done? She’d come, for God’s sake. Did he know that? She looked up. He knew, all right. But he’d never believe it was her first time. She drew in a shuddering breath. “I think I’ve given you what you want.”
Miguel smiled. “No. I’ve given you what you wanted. I intend to have you make love to me. Of your own free will. Not here. Not now. But someday soon. Then you’ll have paid your debt.”
His statement hit her like a pail of ice water. Paid her debt. Of course. He didn’t really mean making love—he meant having sex. Sweet Mary, she’d almost fallen for him. Almost allowed herself to think his kisses held real affection. That maybe, just maybe, he was seeing her as a real person, not some slut who had been knocked in the head. He’d just given her a fantastic climax—her first—and all he could think of was she owed him a debt?
Ah, but he was good. He’d awakened feelings in her she didn’t know she had. She would just have to be very careful not to let herself get in this situation again. She would not be used. Abruptly, she pushed away from him.
“Of my own free will? I’m afraid you’re going to have a long wait.”
His finger traced a pattern over her still puffy mouth. “I don’t think so, Red. A woman who reacts like you do can only hold out so long. I’m a patient man.” He bowed elegantly. “Allow me to help you onto your horse. You seem a bit shaky.”
He wasn’t taking her seriously. Annoyed, she said, “I can manage.” To her great embarrassment, however, she found he was right—blast it. Her legs were too shaky to mount. Smothering a smile, Miguel lifted her and set her in the saddle.
“I told you,” he said.
She ignored him and nudged Plata into a canter, but she could hear him laughing behind her.
• ♥ •
The next week passed quickly. After the incident, Miguel behaved like a perfect gentleman, not even alluding to what had taken place. He even acquiesced to her riding. He took her with him as he rode the fence line for the pasture where he kept the brood mares. He often stopped to prop up a fence post or make a note on where wires had been torn and needed replacing. Most days Olaf accompanied them, and Elizabeth found his gruff, man-of-few-words personality comforting and reliable. As he’d told her, “I don’t use up all my kindlin’ to make a fire.”
She nudged Plata to keep up with Diablo. They neared a dried gully, full of sand and dead grass when the stallion reared suddenly, nearly slamming into the mare. As Miguel settled the horse, Elizabeth heard the menacing rattle of the snake and drew the handgun she now wore and fired into a clump of sage. The rattler sprang upward and fell back.
She hid a smile as she remembered how Miguel had balked at her shooting a gun. They’d had a terrific argument over why women should not carry guns. She’d pleaded and cajoled to no avail. Only when she challenged him to target practice, asking if he’d like to repeat the wager they’d made for the race did he allow her near one.
She struggled now to suppress the mirth bubbling up and threatening to explode as she remembered. He’d had a smirk on his face, positive she’d make a fool of herself and he’d be able to take another of those breathtaking kisses. To be truthful, she had played with the idea of letting him win just for that, but with Swift Hawk and Olaf watching, no way was she going to lose. Too bad Miguel didn’t know her father had taken her to the shooting range beginning when she was twelve.
“You’re welcome,” she said a bit smugly.
M
iguel grunted something that sounded like “thanks” and Elizabeth bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing outright. His male pride hated to admit a woman had bested him. It actually made him more endearing, not that he needed to know that.
“Easy, boy,” Miguel crooned, his hand sliding along the horse’s sleek neck as he avoided looking at Elizabeth.
She bit back another grin. Men in this century needed some enlightenment. Yet, she was amazed at the special relationship Miguel had with Diablo. He talked to the stallion as though he were human, and she could have sworn the horse understood. She'd never heard so many responsive sounds come from a horse. It seemed Miguel was capable about caring for the horse, anyway—and Raul and Olga and Olaf. Everyone but her. She was only a sex toy he wanted to play with, but she’d deal with that later. The day was too nice to spend on a pity-party.
Elizabeth shifted her weight in the saddle and breathed in the fresh air this early January morning, enjoying being in the country, under open skies and miles of prairie. She had seen deer and antelope and once, even a herd of buffalo. This was what it looked like, before the metro-mess that was now Dallas-Ft. Worth came into being. She glanced sideways at Miguel as he knelt on the ground, pushing a post deeper into the hole.
He was a different man when he was working. His men respected him, and he didn’t hesitate to get down and work alongside them. Usually, by the time they rode home in the afternoon, he would be covered in grime and dirt, just like his son.
She frowned. Raul would be returning to school in two days. She wondered if the same amount of time had passed in her century. What would happen when she didn’t return to work?
“What’s wrong?” Miguel was standing, watching her.
Elizabeth shook her head to clear it. “I was just thinking about going back to teaching. I’m going to be missed.”
The look he gave her clearly told her he thought she was fantasizing again. Would he never believe her? “I am a teacher. I’ll prove it to you. I’ll go along with Raul when he returns to school and talk to his teacher. Education stuff. You’ll see I know what I’m talking about.”
Miguel mounted and they turned their horses toward the hacienda. “That might not be a bad idea,” he said. “Miss Parsons is having a little trouble with his antics, and you seemed to have curbed that after the snake incident. Raul has been remarkably well-behaved since then.”
Was he actually complimenting her? Raul was used to having his own way, probably a result of having no mother, only a nanny who had run off. Olga, as efficient as she was about running the place, had a definite soft spot for the imp. That his persuasive grin looked so like his father’s didn’t help matters, either. Still, Elizabeth had decided to be firm with him. He’d paid for the stolen cookie by washing the dishes. Not happily, but he had done them.
“So how did you get so good with kids? Most ladies-of-the-evening don’t have time—”
Her feeling of good will ground to a halt. He was back to that theory. She should have known chivalry wouldn’t last with him. She had hoped they could be real friends. “I am not a prostitute. Can you not get that through your head? You saw me in lingerie. A lot of women own things like that, and are not prostitutes.”
His eyebrow arched. “A lot of women?” He grinned infuriatingly. “Too bad you don’t remember where you came from. It would be interesting to meet those ladies.”
Elizabeth thrust her chin out. “Just let me meet the school teacher.” She dug her heels into the mare’s sides, causing Plata to leap forward in surprise, and left Miguel following in her dust.
• ♥ •
Snow had fallen during the night and a thin layer of ice covered water puddles as Miguel drove Elizabeth and Raul to school in the carriage. A fitting day, Elizabeth thought. The boys would be having snowball fights for sure.
Abigail Parsons wasn’t Elizabeth’s picture of a nineteenth century schoolmarm. For one thing, obviously she was more interested in Miguel than in Raul. From the moment they walked in and Raul had run to giggle with his friend, Gus, Miss Parsons had not left Miguel’s side. As Elizabeth watched, she tucked her slender hand inside the crook of Miguel’s elbow and smiled up at him.
“Have you thought about what I suggested?” she asked in a silken purr that made Elizabeth want to scratch her own nails on the chalkboard. “We could begin tonight.”
Begin what? Elizabeth looked over the petite woman. Everything about her was golden: her skin, her hair, even her eyes. Cat eyes, slanted at the corners. Her smile was seductive and alluring, even with the children present. Elizabeth blinked as the tip of Abigail’s tongue protruded at the corner of her mouth. She could almost see the schoolmarm licking cream from her whiskers. Was she another of Miguel’s conquests? Probably. Or she soon would be. Elizabeth didn’t care if she was. Not at all.
Miguel smiled at Miss Parsons before he disengaged himself. “I think I’ve arrived at a solution for Raul’s misbehavior,” he said and gestured toward Elizabeth. “Miss O’Malley seems quite capable of controlling him. Perhaps she could give you a few suggestions.”
Abigail’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but Elizabeth caught the action. When those golden eyes trained on her, they were as cold and calculating as a mountain lion, and a small shiver went down Elizabeth’s spine in spite of the pot-bellied stove heating the interior of the room. This was a person used to getting what she wanted.
Miss Parsons inclined her head slightly. “Miss O’Malley. Are you a new domestic for Miguel?”
Domestic? Servant? Elizabeth’s temper began to simmer and the fact that Miguel was trying not to grin almost sent it over the edge. And why was the schoolmarm using Miguel’s first name? This Miss Parsons was just a little too uppity. Elizabeth lifted her head and stood tall. “I’m a teacher, just like you are.” She caught the warning look in Miguel’s eyes, but she ignored it. It was about time he understood.
Miss Parsons arched a delicate eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth glanced around the room. “Do you use groups?”
For a moment, she looked puzzled. “Groups?”
“Groups. Tables with three or four children to work together to study different topics.” She let her voice trail off as the schoolmarm’s eyes glazed.
Elizabeth looked around the room again. A blackboard, dusty with traces of erased chalk covered the front of the room. That would be a computerized smart board with power-point at her high school. An old, battered wooden desk sat directly in front of the chalkboard facing the students. Rows of connected wooden desks with folding seats and inkwells were nailed into the hardwood floor. Few rooms in modern schools limited themselves to straight rows. Elizabeth smiled inwardly. She’d never seen real desks like these, although she did have a miniature old-fashioned desk sitting on a shelf in her bedroom back home. Along one wall were pegs for hanging coats and above the pegs, wooden cubbies for sack lunches and caps. The opposite wall held a bookshelf without many books.
“Mig…Señor de Basque has a wonderful library. Perhaps I could bring some of the books here and read to the children,” Elizabeth said.
Again, the schoolmarm’s eyes narrowed almost indiscernibly. “I hardly think that is necessary.” She tilted her head and smiled up at Miguel. “I would love to see your library. Might I?”
For some unexplainable reason that made no sense, Elizabeth knew she didn’t want this catlike woman in Miguel’s library, her hands touching the soft leather of the rare books on the shelves. Elizabeth didn’t even want Miss Parsons in Miguel’s house. She bit her lip. She needed to get a grip. She didn’t mean anything to Miguel. If anyone were behaving like a wanton woman, it was this Abigail person. Couldn’t Miguel see it? Or maybe he liked it, since he was smiling at her again.
“We’ll see,” he said, “perhaps it would give you and Miss O’Malley a chance to work together. I think we’ve taken enough of your time for now.”
She held out her hand to him and he bent over, brushing her knuckles
with his lips. Elizabeth’s stomach coiled into a knot. How gallant of him. He never did that to her! Miss Parsons, he treated like a lady—when she was the one acting like a hooker! Her temper, which had been reaching a slow boil, threatened to spill over. And she was supposed to work with Miss Parsons?
Miguel straightened and caught her look. The corner of his mouth twitched, which didn’t help her mood. Was he trying to make her jealous? Well, it was not going to work. No way.
He put one hand on her back, his fingers stroking lightly, as he guided her to the door. The touch was just enough to make Elizabeth remember how his hands had felt the day of the horse race. She tried to stanch the feeling, with little success.
Miguel opened the door. “After you. Watch—”
Trying to rein her temper in as he closed the door, she didn’t see the patch of ice until her foot slipped on the last step. She gave a little shriek as she lost her balance and fell backward.
“I tried to warn you,” Miguel said.
She found herself lying in his arms, partially suspended in air, gazing up at that chiseled jaw. His arms were like steel bands, supporting her. He bent his head lower, his dark eyes searching her face. A wild thought of how his mouth would feel in an upside down kiss flitted through her mind. Sparks began igniting in her belly, shooting tiny pieces of friction into her limbs. At that moment, she felt ridiculously safe and content. He was going to kiss her. Her, and not that cat-woman inside. Elizabeth closed her eyes and parted her lips.
Nothing happened. Slowly, she opened her eyes to find him watching her, his face still close.
“If you want to be kissed, you’ll have to ask me,” he said. “Remember?”
Flustered, she struggled to regain an upright position. “Ask you?” she sputtered as he finally set her on her feet and released her. “What makes you think—“
He stopped her by tracing her lips with his finger and leaned down, his breath warm on her cheek. “I think you might even want more than a kiss?”
Elizabeth felt herself blush and turned away from him and walked to the carriage, carefully avoiding any more ice patches. She clambered up before he could assist her, too afraid to feel his strong hands around her waist, afraid that she might actually admit that she did want him.
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