The Overlord

by Susanna Firth

  Verity smiled to herself as she watched the two figures walk down the track from the house. Ramón Vance topped her father by a good six inches and carried himself with a powerful vigour that was missing in the other man. But she knew which one the gauchos would listen to and obey. Her father had always worked on the principle of never asking a hired hand to do something that he could not perform adequately himself, and his men respected him for it.

  'A gaucho always retains that fierce independence of his, even when he's up for hire,' her father had told her once. 'You have to earn his loyalty and trust. .Arid they're not given lightly.'

  She could believe that. She knew the half dozen or so men who rode with her father daily. Most of them had been at Vista Hermosa since before she had been born. They were men of few words, ill at ease in unfamiliar company, but quite capable of spotting the sham or the phoney that they might encounter there. They certainly would not be under any delusions when it came to judging Ramón Vance. He would never know that he had been put on trial. There were any number of subtle ways of testing his worth. But they would have his true measure in the end, and then heaven help him if he expected any co-operation!

  It would serve him right for butting in where he was not wanted, Verity thought with some satisfaction. There would be trouble if he decided to replace her father with another man, and it was as well for him to realise the fact. She tidied up the breakfast dishes and set about her morning's housework almost cheerfully. Perhaps, when Ramón Vance saw the enormity of the task that he had taken on, he would lose a little of that high-and-mighty attitude that he had adopted.

  The men broke early in the afternoon for lunch and a rest from the heat of the sun. If Mark Williams was in the distant pastures he usually took something to eat with him or joined his men in one of their campfire roasts, but when he was near the house Verity took him a basket of food. It made a break for both of them to share an hour or so together.

  Nothing had been said about returning to the house for lunch, so she assumed that today there would be no variation in the custom. Accordingly she packed a mound of sandwiches, cheese and fruit, and unloaded a pack of beer bottles from the fridge where they were nicely chilled. After a hard morning's work her father would be ready for that and she supposed Ramón Vance would be the same. Even supermen had to refuel occasionally, she thought sourly.

  The heat hit her in a solid wall as she shouldered the basket and made her way down the drive to the dipping troughs. It must be nearly a hundred degrees today, hot even for January, the peak of the summer months. Even the breeze that was a constant attractive feature of pampas life felt as if it was burning her skin and Verity could feel the trickle of perspiration down her back and between her breasts as she plodded on. It was not far, only a twenty-minute walk, but she felt as if she had been put through a wringer by the time her goal was in sight.

  'Vaca, vaca!' She could hear the men shouting encouragement to the terrified cattle as she got nearer. The frequent dipping was necessary to keep the animals disease-free and comfortable, but the poor beasts never realised that and did everything they could to avoid the process as the men released them from the pens where they had been confined overnight and herded them with the aid of dogs towards the first of the troughs. The stench of cattle was almost overpowering in this heat, although Verity was used to it, and she wrinkled her nose distastefully.

  The first of the herd was out of the wooden stockade now and being driven towards the steep stone trough and the rest were following. The sleek black bodies gleamed in the sunlight as they emerged damply at the far end of the troughs and were bunched together again, ready for the drive back to the pastures from which they had come.

  Verity paused, well out of the way of the action. She had been around this sort of operation long enough to know of the dangers that could be encountered by the unwary. A hoof lashing out could knock a man unconscious and his chances of survival were nil if he was unlucky enough to fall in the path of frightened, skittish cattle. She stopped by the fence, admiring for the umpteenth time the skill with which the gauchos moved the beasts in their charge. Man and horse were as one as they wheeled and turned around the shifting cattle, urging, pushing and cajoling to gain their objective. Their dogs would not win any prizes for good looks. Most of them were cross-bred animals of bizarre appearance. But they too were a vital part of the team as they ran round the outside of the herd, keeping away from the dangerous hooves, but ensuring that the beasts were kept in line.

  Verity glanced over to where Ramón Vance was standing with her father by the entrance to the troughs. She wondered what he was making of it all. Even a complete ignoramus about ranch life ought to be able to appreciate a display of skill like this. There was not much he could find fault with here. Her lip curled slightly as she studied him. He was still trying to look the part, she thought, as she noted the long stockman's whip that rested in one lean hand.

  As if aware of her scrutiny he looked suddenly away from the animals and straight across at her. The brown eyes held hers for a long moment, almost as if he could read what was in her mind, and she was the first to look away. Damn the man, did he have to bare her innermost thoughts every time he gazed at her? Verity fought for composure. Any moment now, when the last of this batch was through, they would call a halt, then she would have to go and greet the man as if she liked him. She would have to pretend, although she knew that she wouldn't be fooling anyone except her father. Ramón Vance had her measure all too clearly. But perhaps, if he saw that she was trying to be pleasant in spite of everything, he would give her father a fair hearing. That was the main thing, after all.

  The last two bulky black bodies struggled through the troughs and stumbled out at the far end to be driven with the rest of the cattle into the far pen. It had been a good morning's work, Verity could tell. There were so often delays while fugitive cows were rounded up again to join the herd. Obviously nothing like that had happened today. Her father would be relieved; he wanted to make a good showing. She saw him raise a hand and heard the call to stop work. She picked up the basket and, waving to attract his attention, headed Towards him across the now empty pen.

  The cattle had kicked up a fair amount of dust in their to-ings and fro-ings. If it hadn't been for that Verity was sure that she would have seen the danger and taken avoidance action. As it was the first notion she had of any trouble was almost too late. She was only aware of a coiled brown body, the same shade as the ground, and of a head rearing up to strike at her. Somebody screamed and she heard the noise as from a distance, although it had come from her own throat.

  'Culebra!' one of the gauchos shouted a warning. 'Cuidado, niňa! Culebra!' He moved towards her in an attempt to help her, but he was a hundred yards away.

  She stood as if paralysed, waiting for the attack. But it never came. The thong of a whip, moving as swiftly and as menacingly as the reptile itself, circled through the air. One moment the snake had been poised to strike, the next it was writhing in the dust, and she herself had been seized in a strong hold and whirled out of danger.

  'You little fool,' a voice muttered in her ear. 'Can't you look where you're going?'

  With an effort she turned to face her rescuer. In the background she was vaguely aware of one of the men dealing a death blow to the snake and saw the still twisting body being unceremoniously tossed away. 'Was it poisonous?' she asked.

  'It could have given you a nasty bite, I imagine,' Ramón Vance told her. 'Enough to put even you out of action for a while.'

  'I just didn't see it,' she said stupidly. Now that the danger was over, she felt suddenly weak with reaction. It had all happened so quickly. Her legs buckled beneath her, but before she could fall he had caught her and was holding her in a none too gentle grasp.

  'You're not going to faint,' he commanded her. 'Come on now, Verity, pull yourself together. The danger's over now.'

  She knew that, but somehow she could still not quite take in what had happened. She
wanted to do nothing more than burst into floods of tears, but his words had a bracing effect on her and stopped her in time. She leant gratefully against him, taking strength from the unyielding firmness of his body. Then, responding automatically to the order that he had snapped out at her, she braced herself and stood up by her own efforts.

  'Verity, are you all right?' Her father was with them now, his face pale with shock. 'It didn't touch you, did it?'

  'No,' she reassured him quickly. 'It didn't have a chance, even though I nearly trod on it, it was so near me. Whoever sent that whip flying over was too quick for it.'

  'Thank God for that! That was a magnificent throw, Vance.' Her father turned to the other man, congratulating him. 'Where did you learn to do that? Did you train with the circus?'

  He shrugged. 'It was a lucky throw, that's all. Any of the others could have managed it if they'd been within range. It, just happened that they weren't and I was. No great hero stuff.'

  'You? You saved me?' Verity asked him incredulously. 'But how on earth—'

  'Just as well that I dressed the part, wasn't it?' There was a faint edge to his voice as he cast her words of that morning back at her. 'Excuse me, will you? I want to talk to the men. Oh, and Williams—'

  'Yes?'

  'Go easy with her, will you? I should take her back to the house. She's had a bit of a shake-up, one way and another. It'll take a while to pick up the pieces.' And, with a curt nod, he strode away to where a group of the men were standing, obviously discussing the incident.

  'Come on, young lady, back to the house with you. Can you walk?'

  'Yes, I'm all right, Dad. Don't make a fuss. I'm fine, really I am. All I need is—'

  'All you need is a lie-down. Vance was right—you've had a shock.'

  Still protesting weakly, Verity allowed him to guide her towards the path down which she had only just come. Her knees felt strange and jelly-like and her head was spinning. She must not faint; he had told her not to. But suddenly the ground was coming up to meet her in waves, rising and falling in a totally unpredictable way. Before blackness engulfed her she thought she heard Ramón Vance's voice. But whatever he was saying passed her by as she collapsed into grateful oblivion.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  He was still there telling her off when Verity awoke. At first she thought that she was asleep and dreaming. How else could she be undressed and in bed in her own room with the afternoon sun still high in the sky? Then she remembered.

  'I told you you weren't going to faint,' Ramón Vance said accusingly. He was sitting in a chair by her bedside and his powerful frame dominated the whole room.

  'It looks as if you were proved wrong for once,' she said weakly. 'What are you doing here?'

  'Playing nursemaid to you.' A glint in his eyes told her that he wasn't particularly enjoying the experience.

  'Oh.' She registered the information rather blankly. Her head still felt fuzzy and her brain did not seem to be functioning too well at the moment. 'Where's Dad?'

  'He's gone back to work.'

  'But I want him,' she said childishly, before she could stop herself.

  'Too bad. He's got more important things to do than soothing your fevered brow.'

  'You sent him back, didn't you?' she accused him. 'He didn't want to leave me.'

  'He was a bit worried about you. You went out like a light and it scared him, but I told him there was no need to worry.'

  'That would set his mind at rest instantly, of course.'

  'Of course,' he agreed. 'Particularly as I offered to stay with you to make sure that you were all right.'

  'And am I? Tell me, doctor.'

  'You seem to be recovering fast,' he said dryly. He took her wrist, the touch of his long, well-kept fingers cool against her skin, and Verity felt her senses quicken involuntarily. 'Your pulse is still rather unsteady.'

  What else did he expect? 'You don't have a very calming effect on me,' she told him. 'In fact, you make my blood boil most of the time.'

  'Apparently so. I can't do anything right where you're concerned, can I?' He did not sound as if it bothered him too much.

  'Not much,' she said, and then remembered. 'I'm sorry, I haven't thanked you for rescuing me.'

  'I wondered if you'd get round to it.'

  He did not make it easy. 'I'm very grateful.' The words came out stiffly, reluctantly.

  'Don't force yourself,' he said drily. 'I'll survive without pretty speeches, if you find them that hard to deliver. Yet another part of your education that they neglected at finishing school?'

  'I'm not very good at saying thank you to people.' It was the best that she could do by way of apology. 'Besides, how do you thank someone for maybe saving your life? It sounds so melodramatic, even if it's true.'

  He laughed softly. 'Ah yes—the famous English dislike of embarrassing people. You needn't worry about sparing my feelings, Verity. I'm not one of your stiff-lipped Englishmen,' he told her mockingly. 'It would take a lot to make me blush.'

  She could well imagine it. How many men would be sitting, as he was doing, in a strange female's bedroom, completely at his ease and chatting as if he did this sort of thing every day? For all she knew to the contrary, perhaps he did. They were sophisticated folk in Buenos Aires.

  He had not finished tormenting her yet. 'Of course, if you feel that mere words cannot express your thanks, you could try actions,' he told her wickedly. 'Proverbially, they speak louder, you know.'

  'Yes, I suppose I could,' she agreed, striving to match his casual tone.

  'But you're not going to, are you?'

  'Don't tell me you're disappointed,' she jeered. 'Do you prize my kisses so highly?'

  'They have a certain rarity value. But I'll get by without them,' he said smoothly. He studied her for a moment, the dark gaze so penetrating that she shifted uneasily under it. 'What would it take, I wonder, to make you lose your head over a man?'

  'More than you've got to offer!'

  'Don't make rash statements, Verity,' he told her, 'or I might be tempted to prove to you exactly how wrong they are.'

  'Is that a threat or a promise?' she provoked him daringly. What was it about this man that made her throw caution to the winds? It was exciting crossing swords with him, inviting a danger that she had never dreamed of enjoying before.

  'Call it a statement of intention,' he said. 'And, in the meantime, here's something on account, just to register my interest.'

  He leaned forward, his arms sliding around her and gathering her to him, his movements practised and assured. Ramón Vance was no amateur in the bedroom. His lips burned a sensuous trail of kisses along her bare neck, brushing lightly over her cheek before reaching her mouth. Involuntarily, her lips parted under his as gently, persuasively, he coaxed a response from her.

  It was madness and she knew it. But she didn't care. Her arms moved to embrace him, pulling him closer to her, scenting the tangy smell of his cologne as she did so. She had never been this close to a man before, but age-old instinct guided her as she moved a hand to caress the springy softness of his dark hair. Strange sensations were pulsing through her, making her aware of appetites that she had never known before. What was happening to her?

  Her whole body was alive now, like a stringed instrument responding to the touch of a skilful player. She made no resistance as Ramón pushed her back against the pillows and moved to cover her with his own body. Her nightdress was pushed aside and he was caressing her, arousing her to a peak of desire that cried out for the satisfaction that only he could bring her.

  'Well, does that demonstrate anything to you?' His voice sounded, her ears as if from a long way away. Suddenly he had moved away from her. Seconds before it had seemed that nothing could come between them and the ultimate shared experience. Now he was getting to his feet as if what had happened had sheen nothing to him.

  Disillusion flooded through her. 'You swine!'

  'Why? Because I nearly took what you were offering me so eagerly?'
A careless hand restored the tousled hair to order and did up the shirt buttons that her questing fingers had prised apart only instants before. 'Or are you cross because I called a halt just as things were getting to an interesting stage?'

  'How dare you suggest that I was—that I would—'

  She floundered in an attempt to express her indignation.

  'That you wanted me to make love to you?' he suggested smoothly. 'I think it was a fair conclusion to draw from the way you behaved towards me. I didn't notice you trying to fight me off.'

  Verity was silent, ashamed of herself. Then she rallied. 'You took advantage of me,' she accused him. 'No decent man would have behaved the way you did!'

  'Wouldn't he just? You don't know much about men, decent or otherwise, if you really believe that. Just thank your stars that you got off so lightly. Next time you may not be so lucky.'

  'There won't be a next time,' she vowed.

  'We'll see about that,' he shrugged. He tucked the flap of his shirt into the band of his jeans and walked towards the door.

  'If you lay a finger on me again, I'll tell my father,' she warned him.

  He paused. 'Am I supposed to tremble at the thought? What do you expect your father to do about it? Tackle me with a stockwhip? Can you see me letting him, even if he was foolish enough to try, which I very much doubt? Grow up, Verity. You keep telling me you're not a child any more and you've just done your level best to prove it.' His eyes rested mockingly on the rumpled bed-cover. 'Being an adult means standing on your own feet, not running to Daddy for help every time something doesn't go according to your own little plans.'

  'You think you know it all, don't you?' she muttered with loathing in her voice.

  'Pretty well,' he agreed. 'So you know where to come if you need any more help in furthering that neglected education of yours.'

  'Get out! Get out of my room,' she shouted. 'And get out of my sight!'