Love a Dark Rider

by Shirlee Busbee

  Her cheek resting against his warm chest, her fingers nervously playing with the buttons on his shirt, Sara muttered, "I'm glad you didn't try to tell me that I was imagining things."

  Above her head, Yancy said dryly, "That would have been rather difficult, don't you think, when I was faced with such convincing evidence? Unless, of course, you

  wanted more attention and placed the snake there yourself?"

  Her head jerked up at his words, her lips half parted in outrage as she glared at him. It was the last thing on his mind, but as he stared at those sweetly shaped lips, Yancy forgot everything but how much he wanted to kiss her again, to press his lips against hers and feel her yielding mouth beneath his, to assure himself that she really was warm and safe in his arms. With a muttered imprecation, he tightened his arms, and his mouth descended to fasten urgently on hers. She melted into his embrace, her arms going around his neck, her mouth opening eagerly for the impatient exploration of his tongue.

  Sara's brush with danger had left them both shaken, and now, as they lay in each other's arms, a primitive urge to affirm, to celebrate the intoxicating knowledge that they were alive, suddenly swept over them. They kissed with a frantic urgency, their hands desperately tearing at hindering clothing until they were naked together, their limbs entwined. This was no gentle seduction, no sweet lovemaking. Yancy's hands were hard, almost rough as they explored her body, his kisses fierce and demanding, and Sara shivered in excitement at the barely suppressed violence of his caresses. Her fingers tightened pleasurably in his hair when his teeth tugged ungently at her aching nipples and she moaned softly when his hands boldly opened her legs.

  There were few preliminaries, both of them already half mad with the reckless need to join their bodies. His fingers explored her swiftly, and finding her moist and welcoming, Yancy growled low in his throat. Catching her hips, he lifted her to him and in one swift motion buried himself within her tight slickness.

  He rode her hard, his mouth crushed against hers, his hands on her hips, ruthlessly holding her where he wanted as he drove himself deep inside her time and

  time again. The need to spill his seed, the instinctive prompting to pour into her the very essence of himself, was overpowering, and as the sweet pleasure began to rise inexorably within him, his pounding against her became almost frantic.

  Sara found this wild, almost savage lovemaking shockingly erotic, Yancy's utter domination of her body so strongly arousing that her fingers dug into his broad back with increasing delight every time their bodies met. The feel of him, of his big body moving on hers, filling her, possessing her, made her tremble beneath him; the sensations, the spiraling desire, combining inside her until she was aware of nothing but the fierce hunger within herself to reach that peak of pleasure she knew would soon be hers.

  Their bodies met and parted with increasing urgency and Sara stiffened as the first spasms exploded through her; Yancy's hands tightened on her hips and a primitive, jubilant cry burst from deep in his throat as he furiously pumped his seed into her.

  They lay together a long time, Yancy unable to bring himself to move away from her as Sara's fingers absently toyed with the curly hair at the nape of his neck. They kissed lazily, the frantic, almost savage urgency of their lovemaking having vanished. It was sometime later when Yancy finally slid off her body, but he did not leave her; his arms pulled her tightly to him and eventually they slept, the rattlesnake and the danger to Sara the last things on their minds.

  When Sara woke, she was alone in Yancy's bed, and a little flush stained her cheeks when she remembered the previous night's violent mating. Then she smiled, a woman's secret smile that has driven men to distraction for centuries.

  Stretching luxuriously, aware of sweet aches in her body that had not been there before Yancy's lovemaking.

  she lay there staring dreamily at the ceihng. Today was her wedding day. Before another night fell, she would marry the man she loved.

  Humming lightly to herself, she pulled the bell rope that would summon Maria. Breakfast, or desayuno, as Maria referred to it, first, and then a long, relaxing bath.

  A half hour later, having eaten her light repast, Sara sank blissfully into a tub of rose-scented hot water. Maria had placed a screen around the tub, and from the other side, Sara could hear her chattering away as she laid out the garments Sara would need for the day. Neither one of them had made mention of last night's nearly tragic event, and even when the memory of the snake tried to intrude into Sara's consciousness, she pushed it viciously aside. This was her wedding day! She was not going to let anything spoil it!

  Unfortunately, it was at that moment that the door to the suite of rooms suddenly flew open and Ann rushed in. "Where is she?" Ann cried in great agitation. "Is she all right? I just heard the awful news!"

  Sara sighed. She didn't really want to face Ann right now, but, rising from the tub and wrapping a towel around her body, she said easily enough, "I'm right here, Ann. And as you can see, I am unharmed. I was frightened last night and it was a horrible experience, but I am just fine."

  "Oh, you poor darling!" Ann exclaimed warmly, a sympathetic expression on her face as she came over to Sara. "What a terrible thing to have happen! Why, if you hadn't seen the snake, who knows what the outcome would have been!"

  Hoping that Ann would have enough sense to let the subject drop, Sara seated herself on a velvet-covered stool before the satinwood dressing table and murmured, "It's over! And I would prefer not to think about it anymore." Her eyes met Ann's in the mirror which hung

  over the dressing table. "Today is my wedding day. I don't want to ruin it with ugly memories."

  Ann's expression changed to one of horrified disbelief. "Oh, but, Sara, you can't possibly mean to go through with it! Not after what happened!"

  "That's exactly what I mean! It was an unfortunate experience, one I don't want to repeat, but it changed nothing!"

  Ann looked impatiently over at Maria, who was still lovingly laying out Sara's wedding garments on the bed. "Leave us!" Ann said in her most imperious manner. "I wish to talk to your mistress in private."

  Maria glanced at Sara, and at Sara's faint nod, she withdrew from the room. Crossing to stand behind Sara, Ann rested her hands on the younger woman's shoulders and said, "I know that I have often been a trial to you— I know I'm arrogant and demanding—but you have to believe me when I say now that I have your best interests at heart. I'm very fond of you and I don't want you to be hurt. You cannot marry that man! Not after what happened last night!"

  "What in the world are you talking about? Why should last night change anything?"

  Ann seemed to hesitate. Then she took a deep breath and, her eyes locking on Sara's in the mirror, said softly, "Sara, Sara! Don't you realize what happened? Don't you understand the danger you are in? Hasn't it occurred to you that you could have died last night? And if you had died, Yancy would not be forced to marry you today to gain control of Casa Paloma!"

  Impatiently Sara dragged a brush through her honey-gold curls and tried not to let Ann's ugly words destroy the happy glow that surtounded her. Aware of the other woman's fixed gaze, Sara looked away, wondering bleakly why Ann seemed to thrive on discord and why she always twisted things and interpreted events in the

  most distasteful light possible. The best way to deal with Ann, Sara had learned painfully, was to simply ignore her, but it was hard to do that, particularly when Ann's "Yancy would not be forced to marry you" rang so unpleasantly in her ears. Out loud she said exasper-atedly, "Have you forgotten that if I die without issue, it is Bartholomew and Tansy who inherit the land, not Yancy?"

  "No, I haven't forgotten," Ann replied gently. "But don't you see that also gives Bartholomew and Tansy a very good reason for wishing you to die?"

  Sara frowned. She hadn't considered that aspect, but if she had, she would have dismissed it for the foolish notion it was—Bartholomew and Tansy wouldn't harm her! And from nowhere came a flashing moment of doubt. Or wo
uld they? If she died without a child, they did inherit Casa Paloma. She shook her head vehemently in denial, firmly dispelling the unworthy thought. After the scene yesterday, she should have known that Ann would try to poison her mind with more of her malicious barbs. Ann had a wonderful way of planting little seeds of doubt and then carefully nurturing them along until the results she wanted came to fruition. Well, Sara wasn't going to let her get away with it this time! Bluntly she asked, "Ann, which is it? First you implied that Yancy wanted me dead; now you're casting suspicion on Bartholomew and Tansy." E>ryly she added, "Or perhaps you think all three of them are in collusion together. Is that it?"

  Ann's hand tightened on her shoulders. "Why is that so impossible to believe?" she demanded with such passionate sincerity that Sara was startled. "Bartholomew is Yancy's uncle, or have you forgotten that fact? And Yancy's real objection to Casa Paloma is that it sits well inside the borders of del Sol. If you were dead, without issue, what would stop him from paying off

  Bartholomew and Tansy? If you were dead, Yancy could still have Paloma, but he wouldn't be shackled to a wife he never wanted! Bartholomew and Tansy would have a fortune and they wouldn't be bound to a run-down, worthless bit of dirt in the wilds of this godforsaken country! Do you really think that after having been a slave most of his life, despite his Cantrell blood— or perhaps because of it—Bartholomew wouldn't leap at the chance to gain a fortune? Or that Tansy hasn't been resentful of her position? No one denies that there is a strong bond between Yancy and Bartholomew. They could have planned it!" Ann's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Sara, don't you see that I'm only trying to help you? For once stop thinking of me as your enemy and realize that I am trying to help you!"

  "Yancy wouldn't.. ." Sara got out from between stiff lips, her thoughts whirling. It was Ann's manner rather than what she was saying that had shaken Sara and made her listen to what the other woman was saying. Coupled with Ann's apparent concern and candor, her words made a terrible sort of sense, but Sara fought against the idea of even considering that there might be a hint of truth in what Ann had said. Clinging to the one thing she believed with all her heart, she muttered, "Yancy wouldn't harm me!"

  Ann gently turned Sara around to face her, and kneeling on the floor before her, she clasped Sara's limp hands in hers. "Listen to me!" she began fiercely. "You are so young and innocent. You don't know the blackness that is within some people. Right now, all you see is Yancy's handsome face and his charming manner. But he is the vilest blackguard imaginable. You must believe me!"

  "Why are you doing this?" Sara asked dully, all her earlier pleasure in the day utterly destroyed. She didn't want to think about what Ann was saying; she didn't want to give credence, even for a moment, to the terrible

  possibilities Ann was putting before her. She didn't trust Ann; she did trust Bartholomew and Tansy, and yet. . . Her green eyes full of misery, she demanded desperately, "What do you possibly hope to gain by these lies?"

  "Nothing! I simply want you to think about what you are doing! Stop the wedding. Don't tie yourself to a man who may have already murdered one woman."

  Painfully Sara said, "If there is even the faintest hint that what you say is true, wouldn't my marrying him ensure my safety? If I become his wife, wouldn't he be assured that his child would inherit Paloma? He wouldn't need to kill me to accomplish that!"

  Ann smiled pityingly. "And what about afterward? What about after your child is bom? Yancy wouldn't need you anymore! You would have served your purpose. And Bartholomew and Tansy? Do you think they are just going to calmly stand by and allow you to give birth to a child who will effectively ruin their chance to inherit Casa Paloma? Sara, think! They don't have any money—they could do nothing with the rancho except sell it. The land is worthless to them .. . but they could sell those useless acres to Yancy for a small fortune!"

  Sick at heart, angry with herself for listening to Ann's ugly words and yet unable to completely banish everything that the woman had said from her mind, Sara gently removed her hands from Ann's and said wearily, "Let it be, Ann. I will not believe that any of them is capable of such convoluted, wicked ideas! And I am marrying Yancy today."

  Ann stood up. "I see," she said slowly, idly twitching the full skirts of her rose-striped calico gown into place. A defeated expression in her blue eyes, she asked quietly, "Is there nothing I can do to convince you that you are making a mistake?"

  Sara smiled weakly. "No, I'm afraid not. You see, I love him. . . ."

  "And has he admitted that he loves you? Does he?" Ann asked insistently. "Does he love you?"

  The stricken look on Sara's expressive little face was answer enough and Ann smiled bleakly. "You see. You know that he doesn't love you and yet he is insisting upon this wedding. It is only by the greatest good fortune that we arrived before the ceremony. Doesn't that strike you as odd? That he is in such a hurry to have that ring on your finger that he couldn't even wait until we arrived?" There was a rueful cast to Ann's mouth as she said, "I am the first to admit that I am not very matronly, but, Sara, to the best of my ability, which I'll also admit is not very great, I have tried to act in at least a sisterly capacity to you these past few years. We have been through some shattering times, you and I.. .." Ann sighed. "I just don't want you making a mistake you'll regret for the rest of your life."

  Deeply touched by Ann's sincere manner and words, Sara smiled faintly. "I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I think your worries are misplaced. Yancy may not love me, but he is kind to me. He has been very good to me."

  Ann nodded, a thoughtful expression in the depths of her eyes. "I'm sure he has, child. After all, why wouldn't he be? You're going to give him exactly what he wants—Casa Paloma! But I wonder if you would go along with his plans so meekly if you knew that there was another woman involved . . . that the reason he does not love you is because his heart is ab-eady given to another."

  Sara's mouth went dry and a knife blade seemed to slice right through her heart. "What are you talking about? There is no other woman!"

  Ann shook her head sadly. "Oh, but there is. Didn't you even once wonder why Yancy agreed so readily for me to come to del Sol?"

  Dazedly Sara shook her head, denying the awfiil enormity of what Ann was suggesting—^that she was Yancy's mistress and that he had brought her here for his own pleasure. It was lies, lies, liesl It had to be more of Ann's malicious contorting of the facts. It had to be! Ann and Yancy were not lovers! They had never been lovers. Yancy couldn't have brought his mistress to the very home he intended to share with his bride. He couldn't have!

  "It's not true!" Sara cried in a shaken voice. "You're lying. I know you are!"

  "Oh, but I'm not," Ann replied gravely. "Shall I prove it to you?"

  17

  For several minutes after Ann had left the room, Sara had rubbed her arms, as if she could wipe away the stain of having agreed with Ann's plan to prove that Yancy was indeed her lover. She felt disloyal and unclean and the ache in her heart was nearly intolerable. Bleakly she stared at her pale reflection in the mirror.

  She didn't want to believe one word of what Ann had said—not about Yancy, not about Bartholomew and Tansy; she certainly didn't want to start speculating that they might have plotted against her. In her heart of hearts she was positive that Ann was lying, manipulating facts to suit herself.

  Usually she could spot what Ann was after, but this time Sara could think of no satisfying reason for Ann to make up such outright lies. Whether or not she married Yancy was not going to change Ann's circumstances— Ann would still be dependent upon Yancy's goodwill. And while it might be argued that Ann would prefer to be indebted to Sara rather than to Yancy for her continued support, Sara didn't really think that was a good enough reason to explain away everything that Ann had said. And Ann had nothing to gain if Sara were to die without issue and Bartholomew and Tansy were to inherit or sell Casa Paloma to Yancy.

  Sara stood up and unhappily began to dress in an older gown o
f yellow calico. Tears welled up into her eyes when she looked at her wedding gown—pale pink muslin lavishly sewn with pearls and lace—lying on the bed where Maria had so reverently spread it. How happy she had been just a short time ago! Before Ann had come into her room.. ..

  A small ormolu clock on the mantel above the fireplace in Yancy's room suddenly rang out the hour, and Sara's face tightened. It was time. The hour she and Ann had decided upon. Her heart full of dread, her spirits desolate and uneasy, Sara reluctantly left the bedroom and began to walk with heavy steps toward Ann's room.

  If Ann had told the truth, and Sara was praying desperately that Ann had lied, she knew what she would probably find when she pushed open the door to Ann's room. Even so, even prepared for it, Sara was still shocked when she opened the door and caught sight of Yancy locked in a torrid embrace with Ann. Their bodies were crushed together, Yancy's hands at Ann's waist, her hands tangled in his dark hair, their mouths passionately molded together. Reeling in pain, Sara gave a small, wounded cry.

  Hearing that soft, broken sound, as if feeling the sting of a scorpion, Yancy jerked his head away from Ann, and with a violent movement, he thrust her away from him and swung around to meet the hurt accusation glittering in Sara's green eyes. Across the room they stared at each other, Yancy's dark face revealing nothing, Sara's lovely features revealing all too clearly just what she thought.

  "Oh, dear!" Ann exclaimed prettily. "I didn't expect you.... I'm so sorry you had to discover us this way, my child, but there is really a very simple explanation for what you just saw. Really, Sara, it is very innocent

  and not at all what it looks like. Yancy had just agreed to give Tom and me a small place in the village all our own, and I was just thanking him."