Hostage Heart

by Lindsay McKenna

  “The budget can stand it?”

  He smiled down at Lark, wanting to sweep her into his arms. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes filled with love for him alone. “It can.”

  Lark gripped Frank Herter’s hand. “Thanks, Frank. You’re going to be an awful good replacement.”

  “I’ve got a job for you,” Matt said, motioning to the corral. “Tomorrow morning, we’re taking those colts to town.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Frank said, smiling at both of them. “I can hardly wait to see the look on Cameron’s face when we come riding in with them. Talk around Prescott is that the Gallagher Ranch is dying.”

  With a snort, Lark placed her hands on her hips. She told him of the two attempted kidnappings, and Cameron’s attempt to swindle the water rights out of her.

  Rubbing his lean jaw, Frank pursed his lips and exchanged a look with Kincaid. “Well, I heard tell Cameron’s going to get your water at any cost. Just watch your backside, that’s all.”

  “We’ve already had a taste of Cameron’s methods,” Matt muttered. “Tomorrow, when we go into Prescott, I’m going to telegraph Phoenix and ask for a marshal to intervene up here and investigate Cameron.”

  Shrugging, Frank rested his right hand on his pistol. “Won’t do any good. Prescott’s Cameron’s territory, and he backs up his brand of law with guns like Shanks. I’m sure Lark’s already told you that.”

  “If we can get outside law enforcement to come in, it will help.”

  “Still might be a showdown,” Frank warned.

  Matt smiled grimly. “That’s fine with me. Cameron’s going to pay for all he’s done or else.”

  Jud Cameron paced the length of his office, his fists clenched behind the expensive black coat he wore. Shanks lay sprawled on the floor, nursing the bloody nose his boss had just given him. Cameron’s knuckles ached, but it had given him great pleasure to punish the stupid bastard.

  “Of all things,” he shouted, “you let her escape! First that goddamned Injun gets his war partner killed by Kincaid, then you lose her out of pure idiocy!”

  Shank’s feet were blistered and bloodied from the long trek back from Devil’s Canyon. It had taken him nearly twenty-four hours to reach the road to Prescott. From there, he’d hitched a ride on a passing stagecoach.

  “I told you, boss, she fought like a wildcat! I had to let her go!”

  Breathing hard, Cameron hunkered over the gunslinger on the floor.

  “You’re worthless, Shanks. Worthless. Get up!”

  Eyeing Cameron warily, Shanks got slowly to his feet. He hobbled over to the chair and sat down.

  Cameron glared at him. “I’m giving you one last chance to square things between us, or I’m firing you. And I’ll make damned sure no one hires you as a gun in the Tucson Indian Ring. You understand?”

  Shanks nodded, burning beneath Cameron’s black gaze. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Get Ga’n sobered up, then take the boys on a little ride to Bottleneck Valley. The Gallagher Ranch sits at the narrow end, and there’s a thousand acres of dry grass surrounding them.” He jabbed his finger at Shanks. “I want you to start a fire at the western end of the valley. The wind blows from west to east. The ranch sits downwind of that thousand acres and it’ll go up in smoke, just like the rest of that goddamned valley. All that will be left are the wells, and that’s all I want. That breed will sign then. She’ll have no buildings, her hay crop for the winter will be gone, and there will be no reason for her to stay.”

  The plan seemed simple enough to Shanks. Most important, it would allow him to avoid Kincaid’s deadly gun. “That’s a good idea, boss.”

  “While they’re fighting that fire, I want you to steal that Kentucky Stud the breed owns,” Cameron went on. “Take the horse south to Tucson. You and Ga’n will be responsible for his arrival there in good health. Deliver him to Robert McCray over at the Double Deuce Ranch. I’ve made a deal with McCray. He keeps the stud, but I get half his offspring for the next two years. That way I can improve my horse herd and get better money from the Army.”

  His eyes bulging, Shanks struggled to speak. “You want me to cross that infernal desert with that stud?”

  “You’ll have Ga’n as your guide. That Injun knows how to make juice leak out of rock, if he has to. Tell him I’ll pay twenty dollars if he’ll take the job. I’ll telegraph ahead and have McCray waiting with another job for Ga’n once he arrives. Money talks and Ga’n will listen.”

  Rubbing his aching jaw, Shanks asked, “What if Kincaid gets wind that we stole the stud? He’s crazy enough to follow us.”

  “He’s not an Injun. There’s no way in hell he’s going to try and ride across that desert in pursuit.” Cameron smiled. “Besides, he’s going to be too busy rebuilding a burned-out ranch, unless I miss my guess. Anyway, by that time Lark Gallagher will be happy to sell what’s left of her father’s holdings to me. She won’t have the gumption to start over again. It would take too much money and she hasn’t got it.”

  Shanks warmed to the idea. “When do you want it done?”

  “As soon as possible. Get the boys from my ranch, all ten of them. Then ride east and find Ga’n. You know where he usually stays. He’ll be nursing his hatred of Kincaid for killing his war partner. I know he’ll want revenge and will like the idea of stealing a horse. That’s what the Apache are best at—murdering and thieving.”

  Lark rode the magnificent Kentucky Stud back toward the ranch. Her mind wasn’t on the stallion’s playful antics, but on Matt. He’d left for Prescott four days ago with the colts, taking Frank Herter with him. Why weren’t they back yet? Had something happened to them? She tried to curb her worry. Ever since Matt had made love to her, her heart had opened like a flower struck by Holos, and she felt invisibly bound to him—forever.

  As she rode the last three miles to the ranch, she agonized over the devastating drought. Holos had sucked every last bead of moisture from the earth; the grass stood nearly two feet high but it was withered and dry, rustling in the infrequent wind. The three ponds on Lark’s land were drying up at an alarming rate, and she wondered whether they could survive this, the worst drought in her memory. In the deep blue sky, there wasn’t a cloud to be seen over the green-caped mountains that surrounded the valley.

  When she slipped off Kentucky’s bare back, Paco greeted her. She patted the tall, sleekly muscled stallion and handed the reins to her foreman.

  “Anything, Paco?”

  The Mexican shook his head sadly. “Nothing, Patrona, but they will return soon. I know they will.”

  Anguished, Lark wondered. Would Matt and Frank come home in the back of a buckboard drawn by Father Mulcahy, bullets in their backs? She shivered, though the temperature was well into the nineties, the noontime heat bearing down upon the thirsty land. Touching her aching heart, she headed back to the broodmare barn to check on the latest foals, trying to escape her terrifying thoughts. She loved Matt with her whole being. She could still taste his wonderful male mouth on hers, still sense his masculine scent teasing her nostrils.

  Near midnight, as she sat in the office with the kerosene lamps brightly lit, Lark fought off tiredness. Everyone on the ranch was sleeping, except for the posted guard making his rounds. Matt and Frank still weren’t back. Something had happened. Something terrible. She gripped the fountain pen between her fingers, the numbers blurring before her bloodshot eyes. Since Matt had left, she’d slept poorly, tossing and turning, missing his warmth, missing him. Sudden neighing of horses in the corral alerted Lark instantly. She was on her feet, running out of the office and down the hall toward the front door. She halted on the wooden porch, her heart pounding. There! Two riders bathed in the light of the full moon were coming down the hill toward the ranch. Matt! Her lips parted and she waved breathlessly.

  Matt’s exhaustion was ripped away when he saw Lark’s slender form standing on the porch. When she waved her hand, he straightened up, a powerful infusion of emotions sweeping throug
h him. Four of the most god-awful days had passed without her sleek, loving body beside him. He missed her laughter, her voice. Most of all, he missed her.

  From his slouched position on his own horse, Frank Herter glanced over at Kincaid. “Looks like you’re a sight for sore eyes, Kincaid.”

  Matt grinned, urging his fatigued gelding into a ground-eating trot. “I think I am. She is, too.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll be heading to the bunkhouse as soon as I take care of my horse,” Frank called.

  Kincaid urged his gray into a canter down the hill and into the front yard.

  “Matt!”

  He pulled his animal to a halt and instantly dismounted. Lark flew off the porch, her arms wide. Dusty and tired, Matt dropped the reins. “Come here!” he called to her huskily. She was wearing the gold dress, her hair loose and flowing like a black mane across her shoulders. Her eyes were wide with joy, her full lips parted. Matt braced himself as she threw herself into his arms. He crushed her to him, burying his face in her hair.

  “God, I’ve missed you,” he muttered thickly, whirling her around.

  “Oh, Matt!” Lark cried, and began to kiss him wildly with wet, puppy-dog kisses.

  He laughed, kissing her in return, seeking, finding her soft, smiling lips. “Come here,” he growled, covering her mouth with his own. Her heart was beating hard against his chest, her body pressed tightly to his. He smelled the lavender soap on her skin, and the fresh fragrance of pine in her hair. Drowning in her sweetness and the liquid warmth of her mouth, he groaned.

  Reluctantly Matt set Lark down on her feet, keeping an arm around her as she swayed unsteadily. He laughed shakily, realizing she was just as swept away by the kiss as he had been.

  Frank entered the yard and dismounted. He tipped his hat to Lark, who was flushed and breathless. “Evening, Miss Lark.” He untied a parcel from the back of the gray’s saddle and handed it over to Kincaid, who thanked him. “Here, Matt, I’ll take that cayuse to the corral for you.”

  “Thanks, Frank. Next time it’ll be my turn.”

  Lark smiled over at Frank, her lips tingling wildly. “I’m so glad to see you both back safe and sound.”

  “We had some business to take care of first,” Frank said, “but I’m sure this man of yours will fill you in on all the details. G’night.”

  “Good night,” Lark called softly, her arm wrapped around Matt’s waist.

  “Good night, Frank.” Matt turned, absorbing Lark’s rapt expression. “You look delicious,” he confided in a low tone that only she could hear.

  Happily she waited until Frank Herter had left. “The bunkhouse wranglers are asleep,” she said, then added, “all except Frank.” There was a question in her voice. Would Matt go to the bunkhouse and wait until Frank went to sleep before coming over to the house?

  He gazed down at Lark, a slight smile tugging at his mouth. “Frank already knows about us, Lark.”

  Her brows flew upward. “What? But how?”

  Taking her by the elbow, Matt led her toward the house. “I like the man, Lark. He’s sharp.” He lightly touched her cheek. “He saw your love for me in your eyes before we left for Prescott.”

  Climbing the steps, she shook her head. “Frank’s always been like that with me.”

  “He’s a keen judge of character. In a roundabout way, he let me know that he approved of us, saying that under the circumstances it must be tough for us to find ways to be alone together.”

  Lark shut the door and they stood just inside the foyer. “He amazes me.”

  “He thinks an awful lot of you,” Matt offered, “and he’s a good friend to both of us.”

  Mutely, Lark agreed. Drowning in Matt’s heated gaze, she followed him into the bedroom and sat down on the rocker, watching as he shut the door. Matt walked over to her.

  “Here, this is for you.” He handed her the large parcel and then sat on the bed, tugging off his dusty boots and tossing them to one side.

  “A gift?” Lark exclaimed, pulling off the brown string.

  “Something I saw at Madam Bouchard’s shop that I think you might look good in,” he said, rising. He unbuttoned his shirt and let it drop to the floor, watching her animated features. Once again, Lark was his child-woman, so uninhibited that her happiness radiated like sunlight, touching everyone with her joy.

  “Madam Bouchard’s?” she whispered, her hands stilling over the parcel. “Oh, Matt…”

  He unbelted his trousers and climbed out of them. “What?”

  Her excitement deepened as she drank in the sight of him, his body taking on a silvery cast in the moonlight. “You’re so beautiful,” she breathed softly.

  He chuckled and leaned down, kissing her lips. “Open the package, golden cougar.”

  Her hands trembling, Lark could barely concentrate on the package. He was naked, standing before her like a god of Apache legend, but a flesh-and-blood man who made her body tingle and aroused an oh-so-familiar ache between her thighs.

  Her hand flew to her mouth as the crinkly brown paper fell aside. There, in her lap, lay the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. “It’s so pretty…!” she whispered in awe, hardly daring to touch the soft turquoise material edged with white lace.

  Matt smiled and crouched down in front of her, resting his hands on her knees. “The color of the dress reminded me of the color your eyes turn when I make love to you.”

  “It’s so expensive. Oh, Matt, how could you afford such an extravagance?”

  He framed her face. “My golden cougar, who’s so easily touched,” he whispered, and slid his mouth against her lips.

  A moan caught in Lark’s throat and she hungrily pressed her mouth to Matt’s. His hands caressed her breasts, gently kneading the hardened nipples that were begging to be touched.

  Matt caught himself and slowly drew away from Lark’s velvet lips, staring hungrily at her. His hands remained on her waist. “I need to wash up first. I smell….”

  She laughed lightly. “You smell wonderful to me, Matt Kincaid.”

  He rubbed his jaw. “I need to shave, too. Wait here for me?”

  “I’ll wait forever.”

  Grinning, Matt got up. “I won’t” make you wait that long. I’ll bathe in the creek in back of the ranch house. Get undressed and I’ll come to you in bed.”

  After hanging the lovely dress in the closet, Lark moved to the bed and slipped beneath the covers. Wide awake now, she pulled at the thin quilt as she waited for Matt. To her, it was a long fifteen minutes before he padded back into the bedroom, his hair damp against his skull, his jaw scraped free of that four-day-old beard. As he approached the bed, she smiled and held out her hand to him.

  “I missed you so much.”

  Matt slipped beside Lark and took her into his arms. She was like a wriggly puppy, and he smiled. “You were never out of my thoughts,” he rasped, and pressed his mouth to her smiling lips, drinking in her sweetness. With a groan, he broke the kiss.

  “We’ve got some things to discuss.”

  Lark felt immediate fear. “You telegraphed Phoenix for a marshal?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “We won’t know anything for at least two weeks. Dealing with government services is always slow, Lark,” he said, seeing the disappointment in her features.

  “What about the horses?”

  He propped himself up on one elbow. The shadowy light emphasized Lark’s proud Indian heritage, but it was her wide eyes that burned into his soul until he burst into a bright, hungry flame. Caressing her hair, he said, “We got three hundred for the colts, like I figured we would.” He grinned. “Afterward, Frank and I went over to the Silver Spur Saloon to play a little poker.”

  “You did? Both of you?”

  “Frank’s a damned good card player. You should have seen the card shark we met. Oliver Preston was his name. The gent had just blown in from Flagstaff and was ready to line his pockets with our money. We raked in four hundred dollars off him i
nstead. Preston thought he was going to fleece two cowboys, but we turned the tables on him.”

  Lark sat up, her eyes large. “You won money?”

  The satisfied smile lingered on Matt’s face. “Frank won a hundred and fifty and I won the rest.” He touched her chin. “That two fifty went into your new account.”

  “What new account?”

  “I transferred all your money to a different bank. And I’ve applied for a new loan on the ranch at a lower interest rate. As soon as that comes through, we’ll pay off Cameron’s mortgage and be free of him forever.”

  Lark clapped her hands, delighted. “So you bought the dress with some of the poker money?”

  “Sure did.”

  “And you used the colt money as grubstake in the game?”

  Matt shook his head, seeing the worry in her eyes. “I’d never do that, Lark. I wouldn’t risk your money. No, I had some money of my own. Frank had some with him, too, so we decided to sit down and fleece a wolf.” He grinned. “We sure did. Preston was madder than a wet hen,” he added, chuckling.

  Relieved, Lark was able to laugh with him.

  Absently he ran his hand across her gowned thigh, feeling the softness and warmth that were uniquely hers. He sat up and maneuvered her around so that she lay in his arms. “Enough of business. For the last three nights I’ve been dreaming of being with you again.”

  Lark waited impatiently, hungering for his touch. The gray of his eyes grew turbulent and intent as he slowly pulled each bow free, exposing the shadowed cleft between her breasts. With a tremulous sigh, Lark caressed his cheek. “I feel like a starving cougar for you,” she admitted.

  “And I’m a hungry bear.”

  Laughing softly, she closed her eyes as his hands slipped beneath the material. The instant he pulled aside her nightgown, exposing her shoulders and breasts, she tensed, waiting. As his teeth grazed the hardened nipple, a new, exquisite sensation bolted through her lower body.

  Lowering Lark to the bed, Matt pulled the nightgown off her. Her eyes were dark and smoldered with lupine fire, and her golden, dusky skin gleamed with a thin film of perspiration. “You’re so responsive,” he said, sliding his hand across her rounded belly.