Love a Dark Rider

by Shirlee Busbee

Satisfied that he had come up with a temporary solution to the Ann-Hyrum affair, Yancy ground out his cheroot and wandered back inside. Feeling slightly pleased with himself, he sought out his bed in a much better

  frame of mind. Now, if he could only come up with a quick way to get himself back into his bride's good graces, and bed, definitely her bed, he'd be a happy man!

  His bride, lying equally awake and restless in the next room, would have been extremely joyful if he had come up with the most obvious way to insinuate himself back into her arms and bed: tell her that their marriage had nothing to do with Casa Paloma! Her green eyes dry and aching, Sara stared up miserably at the silk bed hanging. He wouldn't, she admitted honestly, even have to say that he loved her, only that his obsessive desire to reclaim the land of his ancestors hadn't been behind his forcing her to marry him. She sighed and changed position for the hundredth time since she had come to bed.

  Sara had heard Yancy enter his rooms hours ago and she had held her breath as she had listened to his footsteps move toward the locked door of her bedroom. Sitting up in bed hopefully, she had waited for his reaction when he discovered that the door was locked. A suspiciously short time later, when she heard him moving away, she had been both relieved and crushed— relieved that she hadn't had to face him and utterly crushed that he had so tamely accepted her action. Ironically, if anything confirmed that there was more than a little truth to Ann's words, it was his calm resignation to his ouster from her bed. She had bitten back a sob and buried her face in her pillow as his footsteps had faded. Obviously, she had thought wretchedly, he hoped that last night and this afternoon had accomplished his task and that he didn't have to bother himself with the chore of making love to her anymore!

  Bitter and unhappy, Sara lay there planning all sorts of impractical means of revenge, and only when she realized that there was very little that she could do to Yancy that would rattle or greatly disturb him—except prove to

  be barren, she thought spitefully—did she give up her unprofitable plans. Miserably she twisted and turned in her bed yearning for the oblivion that sleep would give her.

  Eventually sleep did come to Sara, and she was startled awake at dawn by a loud, imperious pounding on her door. Rubbing her eyes and throwing back the tangle of hair that fell across her face, she hastily got out of bed and stumbled to the door. Not even fully awake, she had completely forgotten last's night events. Certain that the rapid banging was imperative, that there was some great urgency behind it, she hurriedly fumbled with the lock and threw open the door.

  In the faint rays of the rising sun which permeated the room, she stared uncomprehendingly at the sight of her tall, darkly garbed husband looming in the doorway. The hard gleam in his eyes and the taut line of his lips suddenly brought her very wide awake. With a faint rush of uneasiness, she also suddenly and rather unpleasantly remembered the reason behind the locked door.

  A militant sparkle in her green eyes, she asked, "Yes? What is it?"

  Yancy stood there staring at her, enraged that after his lonely night—his lonely, sleepless night, endured because of her—it was obvious that she had been awakened from a sound sleep. It also didn't help his frame of mind that she looked almost irresistible to him as she stood there in a demure nightgown of soft, rose-sprigged cambric, her green eyes ablaze, her honey-gold hair all sleep-tousled and tumbling down her shoulders. Her breasts were temptingly outlined by the drape of the worn material, and it was all Yancy could do to prevent himself from reaching out and caressing those hard litde breasts.

  His sleepless night, however, had given him a great deal of time to think and he had realized that one way

  to defang Ann would be to reassure Sara that his marriage to her had nothing to do with getting his hands on Casa Paloma. . .. But that conversation, he admitted uneasily, once started, was bound to go into sensitive areas, areas that he wasn't quite certain he was ready to explore—or to discuss. Still, he felt the urge to try to set things right between them, but as he stood there hesitating, he was suddenly filled with a painful feeling of vulnerability. With an effort he shook off the unwelcome sensation. Diosl If he did not get himself under control, he would be blurting out his deepest feelings like a lovesick fool!

  In order to prevent himself from doing just that and a great deal more, he took refuge in cold anger. A sardonic expression on his lean features, he growled, "I'm leaving for the day—and since I don't think you want the state of affairs between us to be common knowledge among the servants, I wanted that damned door unlocked before I left." Not trusting himself to remain in her presence without doing something they would both regret, although he didn't really believe that he would ever regret making love to her, Yancy spun on his heels and stalked swiftly away.

  Devastated, Sara stared bleakly after him, hardly able to believe that he had nothing more to say to her. Nothing. Not even a demand to know why she had locked the door! Perhaps he didn't even care! If she had needed irrefutable proof of how little she mattered to him, he had just given it to her, and she wondered bitterly how things could have gone so very wrong between them.

  Unhappy and dispirited, she wandered into his room and impulsively, driven to reestablish some degree of contact with him, she snuggled down into the imprint left by his body on the bed. There was still a faint, lingering warmth from his body on the sheets and a comforting trace of his scent, and Sara reveled in it.

  even as she scolded herself for being a fool. A mawkish, stupid, stupid little fool at that!

  In the next few days, the situation between Sara and Yancy did not change appreciatively. In front of the others they were cordial and polite, but alone in their rooms, Sara would immediately seek out her own quarters and shut the door with a decided snap, the sound of the lock turning reverberating endlessly in the silence that followed. Exerting every savage impulse to the contrary, Yancy made absolutely no attempt to cross the lines she had drawn, nor did he ask Sara what had prompted her actions. He simply ignored the problem as if it didn't exist ... or didn't matter to him, Sara thought painfully on more than one occasion.

  She tried to view the situation impartially. Had she been wrong to lock the door? Should she have just boldly asked him outright to refute Ann's statements? Was it her fault that they were at this terrible impasse?

  Sitting alone in the private courtyard off their rooms late Monday afternoon, she wondered wearily if there was some other way that she should have handled the situation. It had begun to occur to her with depressing regularity that she hadn't been exactly fair to Yancy— one minute she had been yielding and eager in his arms and the next she had, without explanation, locked the door practically in his face. Her lips twisted wryly. Perhaps she had overreacted to Ann's words.

  Oh, damnl she thought wretchedly. If Yancy weren't such a closemouthed devil, none of this would have happened! If she had been secure in the knowledge that he loved her, that he hadn't married her simply to gain Casa Paloma, Ann's words wouldn't have had the power to hurt her so deeply and she wouldn't have reacted as she had. He had to take some of the blame for the situation, she decided smbbomly. And if the damned locked door bothered him, he could say something! If it

  mattered to him, he could do something about it! And if it didn't. . .

  As if her thoughts had conjured him up, Yancy strolled out into their courtyard, his dark face set in enigmatic lines. Eyeing her impersonally, he asked coolly, "All packed?"

  Puzzled, Sara stared at him, wishing her pulse wouldn't pound so crazily at the very sight of him. "Packed?" she echoed. "What are you talking about?"

  His eyes never leaving her feamres, he replied carelessly, "Our trip to Paloma. Have you forgotten about it?"

  "Oh! I don't think that's such a good idea anymore, do you?" she replied uncertainly, her expressive face revealing her confusion. Paloma? He couldn't possible want to go there with her under the circumstances!

  "Why not? You're still my wife, aren't you?" he inquired silkily. "And if memory
serves me, we're to leave tomorrow, aren't we?"

  Sara nodded helplessly, unable to tear her fascinated gaze away from the glittering depths of his eyes. At her nod, he smiled, not a particularly reassuring smile, and said briskly, "Good! If you're not packed already, I suggest that you ring for Maria and start getting your things ready. We're leaving just after dawn tomorrow—I don't want you to be traveling in the heat."

  He started to turn away and leave the courtyard, but suddenly, gathering up all her courage, Sara blurted out, "Why did you marry me?"

  Yancy froze. Slowly he pivoted around to stare at her. His feamres revealing nothing, he looked at her for a long time, saying nothing. Sara was cursing her unruly tongue and wishing she were a million miles away from this embarrassingly painful interview, when he finally drawled, "Why did I marry you? Why, darlin', 1 thought you had that all figured out!"

  Daunted by the expression on his face, but persevering bravely, Sara replied, "No, I don't have it all figured out—that's why I'm asking you! Why did you marry me?"

  All of his angry frustration over the situation between them suddenly exploded within him and, more furious than he could ever remember being in his life, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her soundly. "Suppose," he growled, "you tell me why I married you?"

  Sara swallowed. "I can't! I don't know! You hide what you feel. You never reveal what's going on in your mind."

  His face darkened, and dropping his hands to her hips, he jerked her tightly against his loins. Sara gasped when she felt the aroused length of him and he smiled grimly. "I don't think I'm hiding what I'm feeling right now, sweetheart. And as for what's going on in my mind— I'd like nothing better than to take up where we left off before you locked that damned door! I'd like to rip off your clothes and discover if your flesh is as sweet and warm as I remember it."

  Sara twisted angrily out of his grip. Fists clenched, she faced him. "That's not what I'm talking about and you know it!"

  He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorway. "But what else is there to talk about? Haven't you already decided that it's only for your delectable little body that I pursue you? Or rather," he added cruelly, "what your soft, tempting body can give me? An heir for Paloma? Isn't that the only reason I married you? What other reason could I have had?"

  Stricken, Sara stared at him, her green eyes enormous in her white face, and Yancy very nearly called back the ugly words, his pain at her pain slashing through him like a sword thrust. But he was far too angry and hurt to deviate from the path he had chosen, far too enraged

  that she could so easily belittle what lay between them to think rationally. He wanted to hurt her, to make her feel at least half of the pain he had suffered these torturous past few days, and while there was a part of him that was thoroughly ashamed of his savage instincts, he was much too stubborn to retreat.

  To hear him say the words out loud, to hear him utter all her repellent suspicions, was almost more than she could bear. Her heart twisted agonizingly and the nauseating, bitter taste of defeat rose in her throat. Sara's gaze dropped from his harsh feamres and she said dully, **I guess there is really no reason to discuss it, is there?*' Turning away, she added with chilling politeness, "Will you excuse me now? If you insist upon the trip to Paloma, I must ring for Maria and begin packing."

  Like a whiplash, his arm struck out and he grabbed her. Jerking her next to him, he kissed her with all the pent-up fury and anguish that was within him. Only when they were both breathless did he raise his ravaging mouth from hers. His amber-gold eyes glittering fiercely, he snarled softly, "Oh, believe me, I do insist! And, Sara, at Paloma . .. you will share my bed! There will be, trust me, no more locked doors between us again—ever!"

  Glowering darkly at him, Sara said tightly, "Do you intend to gather up all the keys and lock them away?"

  "If need be!" he snapped.

  "Oh, I think you'll need to, believe me—on that we can at least agree!"

  They stood there glaring at each other for a long moment, neither willing to concede to the other. Then, releasing her with a rough movement, Yancy spun away and disappeared into the hacienda.

  Her emotions blessedly numb, Sara watched him go. Gradually, as her feelings returned, she felt oddly lightheaded, a strange tranquility seeping through her. It was as if, having faced her worst fears, she could now move

  forward—she was no longer banished to a limbo of uncertainty. She knew the truth now—he had married her for an heir for Paloma. Very well. Despite her proud words, she would give him an heir and nothing else, she vowed furiously, and walking inside, she yanked savagely on the bell rope which would bring Maria. She would go to Paloma; she would give him a child and, at the first opportunity, shed cut out his liver and fry it before his very eyes Suddenly feeling much better, Sara began dragging clothing out of her wardrobe with a vengeance.

  At the moment, Sara was not the only person who wished to do violent things to Yancy Cantrell. Ann Shelldrake not only would cut out his liver and fry it— she was furious enough to also feed it to the dogs!

  Ann and Hyrum had arranged to meet at dusk at a clump of cottonwoods and willows that grew near the creek which ran some distance behind the pleasant little house Yancy had indicated she and Tom could use as their own. Casting several nervous glances over her shoulder toward the house, Ann ran to the appointed meeting place.

  Hyrum's note, delivered surreptitiously just an hour ago by a young vaquero he thought they could trust, had already informed Ann that Yancy had ordered him to Paloma, and so her first burst of fury had already abated. Still, there was a dangerous gleam in her blue eyes when she spied Hyrum's form, almost entirely concealed by the trees and the falling shadows. She went into his arms immediately and they kissed hungrily. Lifting her mouth from his a moment later, Ann cried angrily, "What are we to do? I cannot bear for you to leave me behind! That damned Yancy! Why does he want you with him?"

  Absently caressing her shoulders, Hyrum replied softly, "I don't know, but I suspect that he may know about us."

  Ann looked frightened. "But how? We have been so careful!"

  Hyrum shrugged. "This is his land, his people—I'm fairly confident that nothing goes on that he doesn't know about. As for what we're going to do, I've been thinking. ..." He paused, obviously gathering his thoughts, and in that moment of silence the snap of a twig nearby rang out clearly. They both jumped and peered warily in the direction of the sound. There was notiiing. No further sound. No movement. Nothing but increasing darkness.

  A second later, another twig snapped farther away, and they both released their pent-up breath when one of the many mongrels that roamed the village ambled away from the creek, heading toward the flickering lights of the houses. Hyrum open his mouth to speak, but Ann's hand pressed across his lips silenced him. Despite the sight of the dog, she had the curious impression that someone was there, that someone was watching them. She waited tensely, and as the minutes passed and nothing untoward occurred, she gradually relaxed.

  A nervous little laugh came from her. "I'm sorry. It's just that Tom has been acting strange lately. I wonder if he ..."

  "You think he suspects?" Hyrum asked in open alarm. He hesitated, then inquired softly, "Are you going to have to get rid of him sooner than we planned?"

  Ann shook her blond head decisively and made a face. "I don't really believe he has any idea what is going on, and there is no reason for me to become a grieving widow just yet, but he has been acting very strange lately." She shrugged dismissingly. "Forget about my husband for now and tell me you've come up with a way to wrest Sara from Yancy before he makes her pregnant and ruins all our plans."

  "Perhaps it doesn't matter anymore whether Yancy is the father of her child or I am," he said slowly.

  "What do you mean?" Ann snapped, clearly angry. "We need you to be Sara's husband and the father of her child if we are to get our hands on Casa Paloma!"

  In the deepening darkness, Hyrum smiled slightly. "If
you stop to think about it, we don't need me to be the father of her child—of any of her children. All we need is for me to be Sara's husband."

  Ann frowned, staring hard at him. "But if there is no child, what good would your being Sara's husband do? And besides," she added spitefully, "you're not ever going to be her husband as long as Yancy is alive! She has to be a widow before you can marry her!"

  In the darkness, Hyrum saw the moment that enlightenment dawned on Ann. Her beautiful face suddenly glowed and she looked at him with warm admiration. "Of course! He married her—Sara is Yancy's heir!" She crowed delightedly. "Del Sol, the silver mines in Mexico, everything would be hers. We wouldn't need Paloma!" She kissed him fully. "How clever of you, my darling! How very, very clever of you!"

  "I'm glad you think so," Hyrum murmured and kissed her lingeringly. "It should be a damn sight easier to kill Yancy than to keep him out of Sara's bed! And once he's dead, I'll be right there to console the mourning little widow." He kissed Ann again and swung her around. "Just think, in less than a year from now, if everything goes as I'm damn sure it will—77/ be the patron of del Sol."

  Ann giggled merrily then sobered a moment later. An avid look in her gaze, she asked him, "Tell me about what you plan for Yancy. When and how will you kill him?"

  Hyrum rubbed his face thoughtfully. "Haven't figured that out yet, but there's no need to rush. Without having to worry about Yancy getting Sara pregnant, I can spend more time figuring out the least suspicious way to make

  her an unexpected widow." He grinned. "I've decided that being ordered to Paloma may be the best stroke of luck we've had in a long time. While I'm gone, you can start planning on how Tom is to meet his untimely death. As for me ... at Paloma I can work on repairing my relationship with Sara." His mouth thinned. "I can also figure out the best way to kill that bastard Yancy Cantrell!"