“We’d be perfectly safe,” she grumbled to the mare. “No one would bother us.”
True, the ranch hands always stopped what they were doing to stare at her when she appeared in the well-defining denims and shirt, but Miguel had made it quite plain that they were to leave her alone.
She really couldn’t understand the fascination males in this century seemed to have with being able to see a woman’s shape. She supposed it was because the “fashion” of the time covered respectable women from head to toe. Even the future, Annie Oakley would wear a split skirt when riding.
Elizabeth hung the brush on its hook and looked around for evidence of Swift Hawk. He was nowhere to be seen. The only person she could see was Tomás, a young man Miguel had recently hired, mucking out stalls at the far end of the barn.
Maybe she could ride into Johnson Station and pick up whatever mail had been delivered this past week. It would save Olaf a trip while he was busy taking care of things in Miguel’s absence. Elizabeth eyed the mare. “Want to go for a run?”
Plata stamped a hoof and nickered.
“Good girl. That’s what I thought.” Quickly, she saddled the horse and led her out the back door of the barn. Johnson Station wasn’t that far. She’d be back before Olaf even noticed she was gone.
The wind felt wonderful as it swept her hair behind her. Plata’s mane whipped in her face as the mare stretched out to her full gallop, seeming to enjoy the run as much as Elizabeth did. What a glorious day to be alive! Eventually, they slowed, and she walked the mare to cool her down.
She reined in at a clump of mesquite near the fork leading to the Trinity River and slipped down, allowing the horse to drink her fill of the cold water. There were boulders near the bank and Elizabeth sat down on the warm stone and turned her face to the sun, closing her eyes. There was definitely more than a hint of spring in the air.
She heard a horse cantering up the road, but paid it no heed until she realized the animal had stopped. Elizabeth opened her eyes as a momentary flicker of alarm swept through her mind. She was only halfway to town, and this was lonely land. Too late, she wished she’d brought a rifle.
She craned her neck, but could see nothing but the bushes and small trees. Perhaps the rider had taken the other fork and she had not noticed the hoofbeats fading.
Plata’s head came up suddenly and her nostrils flared as she scented the air, ears pricked forward. She gave a low whinny, and Elizabeth heard a corresponding one from behind the boulders. Someone was here, nearby.
Before she could get up to look, strong hands were on her shoulders, holding her down.
“We are finally alone.” Tomás whispered in her ear as he squatted beside her and pressed his head alongside hers.
Elizabeth clawed at him and tried to get up, but his grip was like steel.
“Go ahead and scream. No one will hear.” One hand caressed her cheek and fisted a handful of her hair. “I’ll not hurt you.”
“Take your hands off me!” Elizabeth hoped he didn’t feel her tremble. Her stomach attempted to twist itself into a square knot. “Miguel will be furious with you for following me.”
“Do you think I care?” His laugh was not pleasant. “By the time he finds out, I will be far gone from here.” His lips grazed her cheek. “The don is not the only man who can please a woman.”
His hands slid down toward her waist and Elizabeth moved with a speed she didn’t know she was capable of. Rolling from the cowboy’s grasp, ripping her shirt in the process, she leapt to her feet, kicking out instinctively with her heel. She heard a satisfying “thud” as she made contact with Tomás’s jaw, temporarily unbalancing him. She ran for Plata without looking back.
Behind her, Tomás howled in rage and rushed after her, but she had one foot in the stirrup and, half-lying over the saddle, she gave the mare her head.
Hooves pounded behind her, but she didn’t dare look back. Plata seemed to sense her urgency for the mare galloped a straight line, ignoring the curves in the trail, leaping tumbleweeds and crashing through sage.
Finally, they reached the main road. With relief Elizabeth sighted Olaf riding toward her. Even as she did, she heard the horse behind her slow and the vaquero turned to ride swiftly in the other direction.
“I’ve never been so glad to see anyone,” she said shakily as Olaf came to a stop beside her huffing horse.
He frowned at the condition of the animal and then looked at her, taking in the torn shirt. “You all right?”
Elizabeth nodded as they turned their horses around and headed home. “I got away from him, but he was closing on me. If you hadn’t come—”
The foreman reddened. “What in Sam Hill are you doing out here by yourself?” he asked gruffly.
“I was going to town to pick up the mail.”
“Didn’t Miguel give you orders not to go alone?”
“Yes, but—” She let the sentence trail off.
“Miguel’s going to be mad as a peeled rattler.”
“At me? He should send men after that near-rapist he hired.”
Olaf slid a look toward her. “He told you not to go out alone.”
Elizabeth stuck her chin out defiantly. “I’m not a child. I don’t need his permission to go to town!”
“Humph,” Olaf said off-handedly as they rode on. “Only a fool argues with a mule or a cook.” To himself, he muttered, “And you’re both mules.”
• ♥ •
“She did what?” Miguel glared at Olaf as he unsaddled Diablo and put him in his stall. He’d succeeded in getting the chief to retreat temporarily, but that treaty was fragile. If anything incited a riot, the Comanche would be on the warpath. He was bone-tired, having ridden nearly twelve hours in the saddle to get home tonight. And now this. Confound it. Could Elizabeth not heed him in anything?
“I warned her you’d be all horns and rattles,” Olaf said.
“I’m sure that put the fear of God into her,” Miguel said wryly. He seriously doubted if anything could. He’d never met a more obstinate woman in his life.
“Well,” Olaf said with a shrug, “she didn’t seem too upset. Something about not needing permission from you.”
Miguel raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Perhaps a small lesson in obedience might be in order.”
Olaf snorted. “That, I want to see.”
“You don’t think I can do it?”
“I think you’d be barkin’ at a fence post, son.”
“Well, then,” Miguel said as he turned toward the door, “I’ll just have to prove it to you, too.”
“Like I said before,” Olaf muttered to himself, “two mules. Yep. Two mules.”
• ♥ •
Elizabeth had heard Miguel ride in late last night, but she’d stayed in her room, letting him think she’d retired. She’d rather face his wrath over her escapade after a good night’s sleep.
She slipped out of bed and freshened up with the warm water from the pitcher Olga always left for her in the mornings. There was even a fresh bar of scented soap this morning and satin hair ribbons on the dresser. Strange. Olga knew she didn’t wear hair ribbons.
She opened the drawer for her jeans and shirt and then stared. The drawer was empty. Surely, Olga wouldn’t have taken them to the laundry. They were clean. Quickly, she put on a ready-made dress and descended the stairs, then made her way to the kitchen. Miguel was already there, sipping coffee.
“Good morning,” he said pleasantly.
Elizabeth hesitated for a moment. She had fully expected a lecture on her foolishness, but he seemed unfazed. Maybe he didn’t care what happened to her. That thought hurt. She warily said a pleasant good morning and turned to Olga. “Where are my jeans—uh, denims?”
Olga set a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her and didn’t answer. She simply looked at Miguel.
Elizabeth followed her gaze and then narrowed her eyes. Miguel had the same smug look on his face that Raul used when he thought he’d done something particularly
clever. She had the uneasy feeling this was not going to bode well for her.
“Do you know anything about this?” she asked suspiciously.
Miguel buttered a piece of toast and took a bite. “Yes, I do. I have them.”
“Why?”
“Because you obviously are not willing to listen to me. You put yourself in harm’s way yesterday by going out alone, so I decided to take your riding clothes away.”
The arrogance of the man! Did he think she needed to be punished like a child?
“You can’t do that!”
“No?” He tilted his head. “I already did.”
“Give them back, Miguel.” With an effort, Elizabeth controlled her temper.
He pushed his chair away from the table, stretched his long legs out in front of him, and folded his arms across his chest. “I might barter them back to you.”
“Barter? What are you talking about?” Somehow, she wasn’t going to like this.
“I think it’s time you showed some appreciation for another gift I’ve given you.”
Warily, she asked, “Which is?”
“Those dresses I purchased from Godey’s. You know, the black dress and the red one. The ones you think are indecent. You’ve not worn them for me.”
God, she’d hoped he’d forgotten them. They were in the back of her wardrobe. Forcing a smile, she appealed to what she hoped was his courtly side. “I’m not comfortable in them. You wouldn’t want to embarrass me, would you?”
His eyes glittered with amusement and a corner of his mouth twitched up. “I’ve seen you in less, if you’ll remember.”
So much for gallantry. And he had played at being King Arthur as a child! “Those dresses will make me look like I’m one of Lily’s girls.”
He arched an eyebrow and Elizabeth was prepared to kick him in the shins if he made one more comment about her being a working girl, but he merely shrugged. “Suit yourself. Wear one of them at dinner for me and you’ll get your denims back.”
She stared at him incredulously. He was actually blackmailing her! And where had Olga gone off to? She’d hoped for the housekeeper’s support. “That’s not fair. You know how much I like riding.”
For a moment, hesitation flitted over his face, and then he shook his head. “That’s the way it is, Red. You won’t obey my orders; you will allow me this.”
That was the limit. “Obey?” Elizabeth sputtered. “Women in the twenty-first century don’t “obey” men. We’re equal—“
He was on his feet in a flash, bending over her, pulling her up from her chair. “It tires me, Red, to hear this craziness about the future. That will also stop. You are in the nineteenth century. Flesh and blood, like me.” His hands stroked her arms and he palmed her face, thumbs sliding slowly across her cheekbones. “Do you feel me?”
How could she not? Even with the anger she sensed seething in him, his touch was gentle. The look in his eyes was not. They were blazing. She forced herself not to look away. “I feel you. Now, let go of me.”
He held her a moment longer and then released her, and raked his fingers through his hair. “You have no idea of how men react to seeing you in those pants, with every curve obvious. Christ, Elizabeth, you were nearly raped yesterday. I can’t protect you if you won’t abide by my rules. How can I keep you safe?”
She stared at him. Was he admitting he cared? That he was really concerned about her? She thought about the many warnings he’d given Swift Hawk. He didn’t have to do that. And the rescue from the gunslingers. She was sure that his reaction had been genuine, but then he hadn’t come back to the room that night. Maybe she should relent about the dress—she did need those jeans.
“If I agree to wear the dress for you, will Swift Hawk have to be there?” She didn’t think she could bear his eyes on her neckline throughout dinner.
Miguel stepped closer and tilted her chin with his finger. He looked deeply into her eyes. “I promise you we’ll be alone.”
Which could lead to other dire circumstances. She swallowed hard. “That won’t be necessary. I wouldn’t want to deprive Olga and Olaf and Cactus Flower of the dining room.”
Miguel laughed. “I wasn’t thinking of us being in the dining room for long. Just wear the dress tonight—with no corset—and you’ll have your pants in the morning.”
Elizabeth tore her gaze away from that lush, firm mouth and met his eyes. “You drive a hard bargain.”
He bent his head, his lips slowly brushing hers, lingering just long enough for her to taste him, leaving her wanting more.
“Tonight,” he said.
• ♥ •
Olga served an early supper, and everyone was leaving when Miguel escorted Elizabeth to the dining room. She was self-conscious in the red satin and had draped a shawl around her shoulders, but even so, Swift Hawk paused in mid-step to stare at her and Elizabeth was grateful that Cactus Flower urged him along. Olaf looked surprised and then gave Miguel a big grin before he followed the rest of them out.
“What was that about?” Elizabeth asked as Miguel pulled her chair for her at the end of the table.
“He was probably surprised to see you wearing the dress,” Miguel answered as he lit the candelabra and took the chair to her right. He poured two glasses of wine from the crystal decanter on the table and handed her one. Then he reached over and slid the shawl off her shoulders, the tips of his fingers grazing her bare skin.
“I want to appreciate you in the dress,” he said. “You’re an attractive woman.”
Elizabeth felt herself blush and was grateful when Olga brought in their food. Then she stared at the plate. Roast pheasant with orange marmalade sauce and wild rice, and a medley of freshly steamed vegetables, along with warm yeast rolls and newly churned butter. “You’ve outdone yourself, Olga. Thank you.”
The older woman beamed and went back to the kitchen, leaving them alone.
“How did you find fresh vegetables this time of year?” Elizabeth asked Miguel.
“Tate-Johnson has been experimenting with a structure made of glass panes. The sun warms the earth inside and allows the plants to grow, even in the wintertime.” He raised his glass in toast. “Is everything acceptable?”
Elizabeth sipped her wine, unsure of the gleam in his eye. “Yes. Quite.”
She became uneasy as they ate, since Miguel benignly kept the conversation neutral and she had expected at least some ogling of her neckline, but there was none. He seemed genuinely interested in the conversation. When he mentioned the taffy pull, though, her attention became more focused.
“Miss Parsons thought it would be fun for the kids to do for Valentine’s,” Miguel said. “There’ll be other games, too, and dancing for the adults.”
Elizabeth tried not to frown. When had he seen that slinking feline? She and Olaf usually went to get Raul from school and the schoolmarm had definitely not mentioned any of this to her!
“Will we be going?” she asked.
“Of course. Try and keep Raul away from candy.” His eyes swept the fitted bodice of her gown. “Only don’t be wearing this. I would like to keep intimate knowledge of your body to myself.”
Elizabeth blushed. “You have no such thing.”
He grinned. “The night’s not over.”
He was impossible. Even as she prepared a retort, she felt herself weakening. The argument she had been having with herself for the past weeks raised itself.
What was she waiting for? She wanted him, he wanted her.
He thought she was a prostitute.
Did it matter anymore? He didn’t believe she was from the future either.
She wanted respect.
But didn’t he treat her well?
Did she really want that cougar in the classroom to have him?
Abruptly, Elizabeth held out her glass, the decision made. “I think I’d like some more wine,” she said, and then nearly gulped the glass when he poured.
He shook his head and stood. “Come,” he said, “let’s re
tire to the study. I think I have something there you’ll enjoy.”
The room was dimly lit as before, but this time the lamb’s wool rug had been rolled up, exposing smooth wooden floor. As Miguel went to retrieve something from the corner, Elizabeth poured herself a stiff cognac from the decanter and winced as the heat of it seared her throat, but took another swallow. If she were going to give away her virginity, she needed a little liquid courage. She hiccupped slightly.
Miguel set something on the counter that looked like a phonograph. Elizabeth blinked. Edison wouldn’t invent the phonograph for another quarter century. Had someone else had the same idea?
“Where did you get this?” she asked as she squinted and peered at it.
“France. A new invention that plays music.” Miguel cranked the handle and set the needle carefully in the record groove. The tune of a waltz wobbled out.
Elizabeth stared at it in fascination. A genuine antique that pre-dated Edison! Then she remembered in the nineteenth century this would have been the very latest in technology. A far cry from smart phones and streaming music off the Internet.
Miguel walked over to her and set her empty glass down. “Shall we dance?”
He took her hand and put an arm around her waist, leading her into a skillful turn. Elizabeth quenched a wave of dizziness and inhaled the male scent of him. To be this close and yet their bodies weren’t touching was both agonizing and stimulating. Dreamily—the booze really did make her feel relaxed—she let her hand drift upward on his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair. His response was to tighten his hold and draw her close. That was better. She liked having her breasts pressed against his broad chest, his hand caressing her back, making her spine tingle. Provocatively, she rotated her hips against his and was amazed at what she felt. His erection was immediate, ramrod hard, long and thick.
And then both her thoughts and her breath were gone. Miguel covered her lips with his, the kiss harsh and demanding. His tongue sought hers and hungrily he explored her mouth, teasing her with an in-and-out thrusting motion, making her swollen lips even more sensitive.
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