“There,” she said as she set in on the counter. “It’ll still be hot for Señor Miguel when he comes in. “¿Esta muy frío,a al aire libre, no?”
“Yes, it is getting chilly,” Elizabeth said. The woman reminded her of a Spanish Olga. And Lily wasn’t what she’d expected either. How did Miguel manage to charm these women into coddling him?
Carmen folded several corn tortillas in half and wrapped them in a clean towel. “He’ll be wanting these, too. He loves my tortillas masas.”
“Does he come here often?” Elizabeth asked casually.
Carmen stopped what she was doing. “He and Miss Lily have been friends a long time.” She looked Elizabeth over appraisingly. “Or is it las señoritas you’re wanting to know about?”
Elizabeth blushed. “No—I mean—I don’t care about that.”
“Then you’d be the first not to. More than one woman has tried to lasso him, as the vaqueros say, but he always manages to slip the noose.” She laughed lightly. “Él es un caballo…salvaje y libre.”
A wild and free stallion. That fitted him. As a young girl, Elizabeth had watched a stallion mount a mare once, on her uncle’s ranch before someone had quickly taken her away from the breeding barn. She’d never forgotten the sounds the horse had made or how big his organ was. Unbidden, a throbbing began between her thighs. Sweet Mary. Why were these thoughts invading her brain?
She decided to change the subject. “Why don’t you go home, Carmen? I can finish up here. It’ll give me something to do.”
“Muy bueno,” the Spanish lady said gratefully. “Tengo una familia.”
After she had gone, Elizabeth hung the damp towels near the hearth to dry and wiped the countertops. She stacked clean plates and looked around the kitchen. Everything was done. She could hear the evening “visitors” begin to arrive which meant she couldn’t be seen. She hated the thought of sitting in her room with nothing to do.
Her gaze landed on the crock of stew. Why not take it to Miguel? She could make amends. The night was cold, and the stew would warm him from the inside out. He said he’d be on watch near the stables. and that was only a few blocks from here.
Quickly, Elizabeth took one of the capes from its peg near the back door and threw it over her shoulders. She wrapped the crock and tortillas in another towel for insulation and slipped out.
Thankfully, it was dark. She skirted around the fence without being seen and walked the caliche path leading to the main street of town. It was lighter there, with oil lamps swinging from the rafters of the buildings. She stepped up on the wood sidewalk as a horseman trotted by.
Ahead of her, five men left the saloon and looked her way. She stopped momentarily as they noticed her, suddenly aware she was alone. Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief when they moved in the other direction into an alley beside the saloon.
Carefully, she passed the saloon, remembering the men who had come hurtling out, fighting, the day before. Someone was playing the piano badly, and some even worse singing was going on, but it was definitely quieter tonight, probably because of the Rangers. She could see the stable now, a couple of blocks away, and picked up her pace.
She didn’t have time to scream as a hand clamped over her mouth and she was pulled roughly into the alleyway. Her cape was torn off. She couldn’t see the faces in the dark, but the hands mauling her breasts and tearing her skirt were harsh. Too many hands. Dear Lord, it must be those five men she saw earlier.
“What have we here?” one of them asked. “A prize filly I think.”
“Move over, Bart,” another of them said to the man who had his hand over her mouth. “Let’s all have a kiss first before we take her some place where we can take our time with her.”
“Nah. She’s mine first,” he answered. “Just get that damn thing she’s holding out of my way.”
Elizabeth fought desperately to hang onto the crock and fingered the lid, struggling to get it open. Her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light and she could see outlines now. She wasn’t that far away from the street, if only— The lid suddenly gave way and she turned the pot upside down, spilling the hot contents down the front of the man’s pants.
He howled as the steaming stew penetrated through the cloth and burned his groin. Elizabeth gave him a push and he fell back against the other men. She picked up her tattered skirt and lunged for the street, screaming like a banshee.
The men bounded after her, Bart grabbing her again. “You’ll pay for that.”
She wrapped her arms around a hitching post, refusing to be dragged back. One of the men grabbed her waist, lifting her off the ground, and pulled. She wrapped her arms tighter around the post and clung for dear life. Surely, someone would hear her scream, even with that racket coming from the saloon.
She heard the thud of a fist make contact with crunched bone before she saw him. Miguel drove Bart down to the ground, knocking him senseless, and pounding his face to a pulp. He only leapt up when the second man approached and tackled him. By that time, a crowd was spilling out of the saloon, eager to put wagers on the fight.
The third and fourth men circled Miguel while the second one pulled a knife. Miguel reached into his boot for his dagger. The gunslinger sliced at him, but Miguel parried. They pressed close before springing apart. A well-placed kick from Miguel landed man number five on the ground, groaning. His knife fell, and Miguel snatched it. The others started to close, and Miguel crouched, pivoting, a weapon in each hand. Number two lunged again and Miguel side-stepped. The man hurtled past and impaled number three on his knife. Number four dropped his weapon, then, and raised his hands.
From nowhere, other Rangers appeared, dispersing the crowd. Within minutes, the five gunmen were rounded up and on their way to the brig.
Miguel took some heaving breaths, bent over, his hands on his knees. Then he looked at Elizabeth.
She tried to pull the bodice of her dress together, suddenly aware that her breasts were nearly exposed, and the skirt had a tear up to her hip. Miguel straightened and came to her and wrapped his arms around her. For the first time that night, she felt safe and warm.
He held her so tightly she had difficulty breathing. She turned her head to the side against his chest and could feel his heart hammering. He murmured her name as he laid his head on top of hers, nuzzling her hair, his hands coursing up and down her back, kneading her toward him in long strokes.
“Are you all right, Elizabeth? Did they hurt you?”
Her arms slid around his waist and she clung to him, grateful for his solid strength. She burrowed into his shoulder. “I’m all right.”
Someone handed him her cape and he draped it over her shoulders and brushed her forehead with his lips before he stepped back and fastened the cape for her. “Let’s get you back to Lily’s, then.”
He kept a protective arm around her on the way back and Elizabeth wished she could stay cocooned in his embrace for the rest of the night, but he turned her over to Lily once they arrived.
Lily took over, ordering a hot tub and briskly stripping her of her torn clothes. Elizabeth didn’t even try to protest, realizing suddenly how sore she was going to be the next day. Already, bruises were forming on her arms. Lily added some lavender salts to the water.
“This will help you relax,” she said, “and I have a eucalyptus salve for those marks. You’ll be fine in a day or two. You’re sure nothing else happened?”
“I wasn’t raped,” Elizabeth said weakly and inhaled the soothing fragrance.
“Good. Well, we have something for that too, as you might suspect,” Lily said with a smile. “My girls don’t have babies unless they want to.”
In no time, Elizabeth was clean, warm, dressed in a soft cotton gown, and tucked into the bed. It amazed her how efficient Lily was. And how wrong Elizabeth had been about her. Maybe she had been wrong about the girls who worked here, too.
As Lily dimmed the wick on the lamp, Elizabeth wondered where Miguel was. She wanted him with her tonight. In bed.
What he thought she was didn’t matter anymore. She felt safe with him. More than that, she wanted to give herself to him completely.
CHAPTER TEN—RESISTANCE
What the hell had she been thinking? Miguel stomped angrily toward the alleyway. No woman wandered alone at night, especially with tension so high. He had told her to stay inside Lily’s where she would be safe. Why didn’t she listen? Damn. She was the most stubborn woman he’d ever met.
And by far, the most sexy. To think of those hired guns’ hands pawing at her, tearing her clothes, infuriated him. His hand should be caressing her breasts, slowly teasing the nipples into an aching need for him. His mouth should be the one covering hers, bringing exquisite sensations to her as he varied the pressure and strokes. Thank God they didn’t have a chance to rape her.
His emotional response to her, though, had him confused. That he wanted her physically, he knew. He hadn’t been prepared for the tenderness he had felt when he held her trembling body in his arms. A need to protect her from harm nearly overwhelmed him.
He entered the alleyway and stopped when his boot struck something hard. He bent down and picked up part of the broken crock. He sniffed. Carmen’s carne guisada. His hand found the linen napkin holding the tortillas. Had Elizabeth been bringing dinner to him? Even though she’d turned him out of her bed, did she care about his welfare? His brow furrowed as the unfamiliar feeling of tenderness swept over him again. He sensed danger ebbing from every pore of his skin. Getting emotionally involved was something he took care not to do. He didn’t need the problem of a woman clinging to him, making demands. Pleasuring a woman—and he always made sure he did; he owed them that—was one thing. Loving one was another. He had been prepared to give his heart to Elena. He wouldn’t take that chance again.
He made his way back to the stable and leaned back on the wall for the rest of his watch. What he needed was to satisfy his lust, that’s all. To plunge himself into a willing woman who would accept what pleasure he could give and not expect anything more. He thought about Sharee’s offer. She was pretty enough and, undoubtedly, well-experienced. And yet, that thought did nothing to stir his desire. The image of Elizabeth, copper hair spread over a satin pillow, writhing beneath him passionately, legs wrapped around him, nearly took away his breath. He slammed a fist against the wood. Damn. The best thing he could do was keep his distance from her until he had his emotions in check. With a sigh, he decided he’d sleep in the barn tonight.
• ♥ •
Elizabeth dozed fitfully, waiting for Miguel’s step on the stairs. Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, she fell asleep. When she woke, sunshine flooded the room.
He hadn’t come to her. She glanced at the other side of the bed hopefully, but the cover was smooth. He had gone to Sharee. She felt a sharp pang in her chest. How could he? Had she been wrong in thinking he might care? He had held her so protectively and called her name—her real one, not Red—and she could have sworn there was worry and concern in his voice. Why hadn’t he come to the room when his watch was over? Last night, he’d said there was no other place to go.
But there was. Sharee.
Elizabeth bit her lip, remembering the smug smile on the girl’s face at supper. She was sure of her feminine hold over him, sure she could lure him to her room, not Elizabeth’s. Miguel liked experienced women. He’d made that clear enough. She felt her body flush all over. Dear Lord, she wouldn’t even know what to do with him—to him. He was used to women who knew exactly what to do, where to touch him, how to excite him. Miguel would find her inept, after bedding a skilled courtesan, which, according to Carmen, Lily’s girls all were.
A hysterical bubble rose in her throat. What would he do if he ever found out she was a virgin? Laugh at her?
Well, he wouldn’t find out. Never. She balled her fists into the mattress. Better to remember her resolve about good-looking men. Too many women chased after them. She wasn’t Irish for anything; Celtic women were strong and independent. They didn’t need a man.
Then why, she wondered, did she feel so miserable?
• ♥ •
Miguel was waiting for her when she came out of the kitchen after breakfast. Self-consciously, she tugged at the neckline of the dress Lily had lent her. It was a pale gray silk, modest by working-girl standards, but the neckline was still low and the bodice form-fitting.
Miguel glanced briefly at the swell of her breasts and then looked away. “Are you ready to go? The carriage is outside.”
She nodded. His obvious avoidance of looking her in the eye was probably because he was remembering his night with Sharee. He didn’t look rested at all. Had they made love all night? Well, Elizabeth didn’t care. She lifted her chin and walked past him and out the door.
The other Rangers were waiting. He helped her into the carriage and Miguel climbed up beside her.
“We have an escort today,” he said.
She looked at him. “Are you expecting trouble?”
“Probably not. The Comanche will wait for the trial. The town’s secured, with the military curfew and the hired guns in the brig. We all have our own work to do.”
He didn’t say much else to her on the long drive back, speaking mainly with whichever Ranger rode beside them and Elizabeth fell silent. There was a coolness to Miguel this morning; he hadn’t even mentioned the incident of the night before.
The Rangers left them as they turned onto the private road leading to Miguel’s ranch and Elizabeth waited for Miguel to say something. He finally did.
“I hope you’ve learned your lesson. Women don’t go wandering around unescorted unless they want to be waylaid.”
“Waylaid? I was bringing you some supper!”
“You made yourself a target. In the future, I will not let you go around unescorted. This time, you will obey me.”
His unemotional tone made her angry. He could show a little concern over the scare she’d had! “In my century, women are free to come and go as they please. They don’t need a man.”
“It seems you did last night.”
Elizabeth paused. He was right. What if he hadn’t come to her aid? She remembered how safe she had felt with his muscular arms wrapped around her, his strong hands stroking her back, holding her close. But he went to Sharee’s bed last night, so he had only done the decent thing by rescuing her. She straightened and held on to her side of the seat, careful not to brush against him. “Thank you,” she said stiffly and heard him grunt for an answer.
Swift Hawk came to meet them as they drove up to the hacienda. His black eyes lingered on Elizabeth’s neckline and then he looked into her eyes. “The color becomes you, Fire Woman.” He held out a hand to help her down.
She was loath to take it, but Miguel made no move to descend. Lightly, she put her fingers into Swift Hawk’s palm, but his hand closed around hers and then he circled her waist with his other arm, lifting her down. His hand lingered on her side not quite long enough for her to protest, but long enough to make her uncomfortable, as always. The Indian was too intense. His eyes glittered as if he could read her thoughts.
“Papá! Papá!” Raul ran to them, waving a white envelope. “It’s a barn-raising over at Marrow Bone Spring. Can I go with you, please? Last time, you said I was almost old enough!”
Miguel stepped down, retrieved the sack with Elizabeth’s torn dress, and handed the team over to Swift Hawk, then turned and ruffled his son’s hair as he took the envelope. “We’ll see.”
“Please?” Raul begged and then turned shining eyes on Elizabeth. “Please make him take me, Miss Elizabeth. I’ve done all the chores you asked and even my schoolwork.” He looked back at his father. “And I ain’t scared Miss Parsons once.”
As if anyone could scare that predator, Elizabeth thought. “Haven’t,” she corrected. “What goes on in this barn-raising that you want to go so much?”
Raul puffed out his chest as they walked into the foyer. “The big boys—I mean the really big boys, ones who don’
t have to go to school anymore—get to help their fathers build the barn. It means I’m almost a man.”
Elizabeth suppressed a smile, careful not to hurt the child’s ego. “That’s pretty important, then. Why don’t you let your father think about it?” Over Raul’s head, she noticed Miguel looking at her with a peculiar expression, almost one of wariness. Now, what did she do? She was trying to be diplomatic.
“Good idea,” Miguel said, “why don’t you find Olga and tell her we’re home?” He watched as his son scampered off and then turned back to Elizabeth.
“It seems you’re making quite an impression on him.”
Was that wrong? Ever since the day of the snake incident, she’d been helping Raul with his schoolwork and sometimes even played games with him when Miguel was gone or too busy. She thought Miguel appreciated it. She decided to try a neutral approach. “I hope I’ve convinced him to leave the schoolteacher pranks for someone else.”
His dark eyes studied her. “I don’t remember him ever asking Katy to persuade me of anything.”
Elizabeth bit her tongue not to say Katy probably had her own methods of persuasion. After all, what did she care? Still, Miguel’s coolness all morning made her uneasy. Before she could answer, Olga bustled out.
She eyed Elizabeth’s dress and looked questioningly at Miguel.
He handed her the sack with the torn dress. “There was some trouble in town and I told her she would be safe at Lily’s, but as usual, Red didn’t choose to follow my instructions. Perhaps that can be repaired.” He turned to go. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got chores.”
Olga watched him go and then held up the tattered dress. She gave an exclamation of dismay. “What happened, child? Come into the kitchen and I’ll make you some tea.”
Until that show of motherly concern, Elizabeth had felt strong. Now, she felt her knee buckling and she began to shake. Olga guided her into the kitchen and seated her at the table, then busied herself with the tea and set some chocolate chip cookies she had just made in front of Elizabeth as she sat down.
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