The sharp tang of the whiskey mixed with the faint scent of herbs and the light floral milled soap that she had bathed with. All of it warm. Spiced with memories of abandoned lovers. Intimate…blending and heating to cloud her senses.
Temptation. Utter folly…and Conner’s gaze, darkening, drawing her closer, and closer to him.
At the touch of his hand caressing her thigh, heat bloomed beneath the layers of finely spun cotton, spreading to her hip as his splayed hand glided upward to urge her forward. Toward him, toward another taste of sweet, heated oblivion. His thumb, resting in the crease of her thigh, slowly rubbed back and forth, adding its own enticement of pleasures found and learned this day.
The glass tumbled from her hand, spilling the last bit of liquor. Potent fumes rose and seemed to fade as breaths mixed, warmed and grew rapid.
Conner’s lips formed her name without sound.
Belinda’s lips parted. She moved her hand to cradle his head. The golden length of her hair spilled to one side, draping across his bare shoulder, veiling the lamplight as she brought her mouth to his.
Insanity. Belinda knew it, but the rush of emotions Conner invoked beat rational thought in a race that engaged every pleasure point of her body. And more, his kiss brought her heart into the play.
To part from him was asking her to lose a piece of herself. But a fear she would lose all that she was gave her the strength to pull away.
“We should not—”
“Belinda, come ease all the pain.”
She closed her eyes, trying to tell him no.
Conner used one finger in a featherlike caress that curved over her hip, dipped at the indentation of her waist and skimmed the hard tip of her breast.
“Your body doesn’t say no to me…” he said softly. His finger rested against the pulse in her throat.
“I feel a yes right here,” he added, and had the satisfaction of feeling her pulse increase.
In his vaster experience, Conner recognized the very unique, startling desire between them. He admired her courage, her willingness to be open-minded, but wished her scruples had been tossed out with the bath water.
“Belinda, un beso. One kiss, cariño.”
Resolve melted beneath the soft caress of his voice. She opened dark eyes to look into his. There was no mistaking the tension. She felt it, a burning need between them, smoldering, ripe from exploding into flames. She did not want to withdraw. She did not want to be sensible.
“Such a dangerous fire.” She breathed the words over his lips, lowering her head.
“Then burn for me.”
A hushed entreaty that begged everything from her.
“Belinda.”
Without shyness, which suited her wild, fledgling feelings, she lowered her mouth to his. “Fire.”
She felt him like a hard heat, brought to life because of his desire for her. He wanted her with the same scorching passion that flowed through her. Belinda circled his shoulders, then gently gripped them. Feeling the weight of her hands, he trembled and it gave her an immense pleasure to know that she had caused it with her touch. Wanting more of his warm mouth, her soft lips melted obligingly and temptingly into his.
“I want you,” he whispered, his tongue tracing an enticing path over her bottom lip.
Belinda shifted slightly so she would not lean against his bruised chest. She lost herself in the fierce, intense kiss. Fire was the only word that echoed like a beguiling melody through her mind.
The echo grew louder.
Conner broke the kiss to whisper the word against her mouth. His fingertips traced lightly over and around the tautening peaks of her breasts. Her eyes, dark as velvet, fixed imploringly on the blatant sensuality of his mouth. Reading a hunger that mirrored his own, Conner brought her lips to his. A fleeting thought that he could still hear the faint echo of her whisper crossed his mind. Fire.
She drew away, staring at him. “Conner?”
They both heard the cry then. Not an echo, but an alarm.
“Fire! The long barn’s on fire!”
Chapter Twenty
“For almighty sake! The horses! Belinda, help me with my boots. Damn! Those bastards. Get blankets. As many as you can find.”
She hurried to get his boots, fear striking deep within her. “Conner, you cannot fight a fire.”
“I can’t! Who the hell is left to do it?” He hated the weakness of his body that forced him to lean heavily on her while he stomped into his boots. His pain was ruthlessly buried, and he almost snarled at her when she stopped him at the door.
“Put this shirt on.” She shoved it at him.
To his amazement, Belinda stripped off her robe and struggled into another of his shirts.
“Get a pair of shoes or boots from Jessie. I’ll meet you at the barn.” Conner snatched the blanket from his bed. “Wet yourself down. The only fire I want touching you is one I start.”
The front door was open to the night. Dixie’s cries were weaker now, but they followed him outside. Phillip, with Kenny and Jessie’s help, was throwing off the bar to the gates. Behind Conner came his mother at a run, her arms filled with blankets.
“I left Sofia with her. Santo is cursing. I wanted to lock him inside the office. Conner—”
“Belinda’s coming. We’ll have enough help to form a bucket brigade. The stream is full. There’s plenty of water at the barn.” As he started to run, pain knifed his chest. “Go on,” he told her. “I’m all right.”
As he reached the open gates, he could see the flames shooting up from the far side of the long barn where the horses, their precious blooded stock, were stabled. The fire had been started low to the ground, and was just now climbing the thick wooden walls. There was still time to get the animals out.
“Conner! Conner, wait for me,” Marty called. “I had to put PeeWee back in the house.”
“Get back, Marty. Stay with Sofia. She’s alone. Better still, go back up in the tower. This may not be the only fire that’s started. Go on!” he yelled when the boy hesitated. He couldn’t wait. If he didn’t keep moving, the pain would conquer him and Riverton would win.
Somewhere between the house and the long barn he realized that Belinda was beside him. Her grim expression more than matched his own. They could both hear the shrill frightened neighs of the trapped horses.
Fire was a rancher’s enemy, but it was a horse’s unholy terror.
Phillip worked the pump of the horse trough near the corral. Kenny filled the buckets, setting them aside in a row.
“Stay and help them,” Conner ordered Belinda. He could see how his mother and Jessie struggled to open the barn doors. Conner tossed Belinda his blanket and ran to help his mother and sister-in-law.
The moment the doors opened, acrid-smelling smoke came from the tack room, filling the long barn. The smoke was drifting upward toward the open-beamed eaves. Both Jessie and Macaria held soaked blankets, ready to toss them over the horses’ heads to lead the animals to safety.
“Take out the ones closest to the doors,” Conner ordered the two of them. “I’ll get the ones in the back.” He ripped off his shirt as he ran, his ears filled with the terrified whinnies of the horses. Panic clutched his gut when a wet blanket slammed against him and he found Belinda once more beside him.
“Why didn’t they stop you?” he shouted.
“There’s no one else to help you, Conner. Tell me what to do.”
He threw the dripping blanket over her. Her eyes were watering, and he knew her throat burned as his did. He hauled her after him, afraid to let her go, as he threw open the latches of the large box stalls. The horses, mares, colts, fillies and two stallions at opposite corners were kicking and rearing, trying to break free of the wooden slats that held them prisoner.
Conner threw up one arm to shield his eyes, and held tight to Belinda’s hand as the smoke grew thicker, the smell of burning leather filling the air.
The yellow orange glow of flames licked through the wall of the tack
room. He could barely hear Belinda’s cough over his own as he forced himself down to the end stalls. The terrified screams of the horses rang in his ears.
Justin’s Pride, the stallion his father had bought to begin his own breeding program, slammed against the stall door. His eyes were bulging, rolling with fear as Conner fought with the latch. Smoke billowed and he lost sight of Belinda. The stallion reared on his hind legs, pawing the air. Fear that the horse would shatter his legs when he came down sent Conner flying into the stall.
He flung the shirt over the horse’s head, barely missed the treacherous fall of the stallion’s hoof coming down near his arm. Conner wrapped the ends of the shirt into a tight fist beneath the animal’s neck. Head tossing, whinnying with terror, the horse fought him and tried to rear again. Conner slipped, banging his elbow against the stall. Even without his injuries, he would be hard-pressed to hold the crazed animal.
Pain sliced through his body. Suddenly another pair of hands covered his own. Belinda! She had grabbed hold of the shirt from the other side. Conner regained his balance and tightened his grip on the shirt.
“Go!” he yelled. The horse, panicked now, half dragged, half carried them down the corridor. Conner’s lungs were screaming for air, fresh and free of thick smoke.
Kenny ran forward with a short, looped length of cut rope when they cleared the doorway.
“No, Kenny!” Conner didn’t dare give the horse over to the boy. “Open the corral gate,” he ordered. Kenny ran ahead and, with Belinda’s help, he managed to get the horse inside the fencing, where three other rescued animals milled in prancing agitation. “Where are the mares?”
“I brought them out to the pasture. Your mother took the filly to the breaking pen.” Kenny swiped at his grime-coated face.
“Kenny, I’m going back. Help Phillip with the buckets before the fire spreads and brings the whole barn down.” He started to run, then yelled back over his shoulder, “And keep her out here.”
Kenny shot a look at Belinda, who was dragging her blanket in the horse trough. “Hell!” he shouted. “Ask me to spit up a storm, why don’t you!”
“Spit one up, if you can, Kenny,” Belinda called out as she ran after Conner. “The Lord knows we need one.”
Jessie came at her, running and leading a half-grown horse. She yelled something, but Belinda could not hear her, and was not about to stop. Conner had gone into the barn alone. Her fear for him drove her back inside.
Plunging through the billowing smoke, she heard the hiss and crackle of the flames. Hot and wet, the blanket meant to protect her added to the smothering, frightening feeling of being in hell.
She could not see Conner. Her ears hurt as the pitch of frenzied screams from the horses rose to an unbearable level.
“Conner! Conner, where are you?” she cried, knowing he could not hear her but praying that somehow he would.
Coughing, Belinda wove her way to one side, feeling for the stalls. Heated wood met the searching touch of her hand. Tears streamed from her burning eyes. She could not see, no matter how many times she wiped them. By feel alone, she worked her way down the row of box stalls, finding that those closest to the doors were already opened.
Dear Lord, did I make a terrible mistake to come back inside?
Then she heard the shrill scream of an animal in pain. Belinda pulled herself hand over hand along the top slats. She could feel herself weakening, but somewhere up ahead was Conner and yet another horse.
As Conner plunged down the center with the young stallion, he caught sight of a dark form huddled against one of the stalls. There was one mare left to free, but he was afraid it might be too late to save her. But who had come back into the barn?
Instinct said it was Belinda. An instinct that wailed a warning to get her outside. He released his hold on the stallion, a terrible risk, but one he had to take. Belinda meant more. The horse needed no urging to run for the open doors, away from the terror. Conner ran for Belinda.
She lurched forward, having found the latch, and the imprisoned horse’s terror torched her own. The metal was already hot. Protecting her hands with the blanket made her clumsy. She grabbed for the latch with her bare hands.
Conner locked his arms around her middle, lifted and swung her to one side, out of harm’s way. He fumbled before he could open the latch and pull open the stall door. The mare bolted past him, bound for freedom. He prayed she didn’t break her leg in her maddened flight.
Belinda sagged against the wood slats, overcome by smoke, blackness dancing in front of her eyes. She could not breathe.
Then Conner was there, snatching her up into his arms. He staggered beneath her weight and that of the soaked blanket before he regained his balance and ran for the doorway.
Gritting his teeth against the stabbing pain, he tightened his hold on his precious burden. Sweat streamed from his smoke-blackened body as he demanded every ounce of strength left in him to get them both outside.
Pain, like steel spurs raking his flesh, made it almost impossible to breathe. Pain, huge blackening waves of it, stole the cry welling in his throat when he felt Belinda’s body suddenly limp in his arms.
Like a vicious enemy, smoke blinded him. Conner stumbled, then burst through the doorway into the night. He dragged in great lungfuls of air, but even out here the smoke taint was felt. He slipped in the mud as he made his way to the horse trough.
Ripping the blanket away from her head, he soaked one end in the water and used it to wipe Belinda’s face. He repeated it over and over, using the shock of the cold water against her heated skin until she tossed her head back and forth, moaning in protest.
Hearing the flow of water, he looked around and found Santo there.
“Nothing is wrong with my arms. I can stand and pump the water the others need to fight the fire.”
Conner swore beneath his breath. He couldn’t tell the old man not to do it. There simply wasn’t anyone else. Kenny ran up with four empty buckets banging against his legs. He plopped them down and bent over, holding his knees with his hands, heaving while Santo worked as quickly as he could to refill the buckets.
Kenny grabbed hold of two buckets and slipped in the mud before he staggered off behind the barn.
Conner plunged his head into the horse trough. When he lifted himself free and stood up, the searing shock of icy water falling on his flesh told him more about pain than he ever wanted to know. A convulsive shudder ripped through him, leaving him swaying on his feet.
But the shock served to revive him. He grabbed hold of the remaining buckets. “Watch out for her, Santo.” A strangled cry strained his throat when he saw the flames leap high. Rage flooded Conner. Rage that gave him the added strength to plunge past Phillip and his mother and fling the water against the crackling fire licking at the protruding roof beams. He tore the buckets out of Kenny’s hands as the boy returned with them. When the buckets were empty, Conner tossed them aside to be refilled and ripped the scorched, smoldering blanket from an exhausted Jessie to beat at the flames.
Steam hissed repeatedly as more and more water was thrown at the already charred wood. Cool droplets fell on Conner’s skin. He felt nothing, saw no one. His absolute focus aimed at killing the fire and saving as much of the barn as he could before it spread to the other wooden buildings.
There was no sense of time for him. The world had been reduced to billowing, choking smoke, blistering heat and a reddened glow that refused to quit.
Someone had handed him an ax. And he hacked and tore the wood until a knifelike searing pain cut across his chest.
Conner doubled over, dropping the ax. He rocked to and fro, then went down to his knees in the mud. His stomach heaved and he bent forward, retching.
As if from far away, he heard a choked cry. The effort to lift his head seemed beyond his ability.
“Conner. Oh, God, Conner.” Belinda reached out to touch his shoulder, pulling back at the last moment, afraid to touch him.
Her hoarse whisper
penetrated through the blinding fog that filled his mind. He looked up to see Belinda standing beside him. Soot blackened her face and torn clothes, her hair hung wet and tangled, evidence of her own valiant fight. But he was on his knees before her, beaten and whipped, and the position was intolerable for him.
Conner managed to get one foot under him. His heart thundered in his chest as if it wanted to break free. He gathered himself for a last lunge to stand upright.
Belinda reached for him again only to have her hand jerked away by Macaria.
“Leave him. My son will not thank you for your help. He will stand on his own.”
“No! He needs—”
“Silencio!”
“Come away from him, Belinda,” Phillip urged, taking hold of his niece’s arm just as Conner staggered to his feet.
Belinda shrugged off her uncle’s hand but made no move toward Conner. He flung his head back, staring up.
“Go back to the house. All of you go back. There is nothing more to be done.” His voice was devoid of emotion. He stood there, alone, as he had been alone for most of his life, even within the circle of his family.
Jessie hugged Kenny to her side. They were the first to turn away. Belinda resisted her uncle’s gentle tug and stood her ground. He offered his arm to Macaria, and they too began walking back to the house.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Conner asked, feeling Belinda’s presence though she was silent.
“The fire’s almost out, Conner. You won.”
She listened to his ragged breathing, her own none too steady. And Belinda waited, hoping that he would not tell her to go again. She glanced at what was left of the long barn. Smoke drifted upward from the roof beams that had collapsed over the back half, but there were no new flames. She had worked with Kenny and Jessie to soak the wood before the fire reached the middle.
The horses still whinnied, but the sounds had lost the frenzied pitch they had held earlier. The night grew quiet, and still she waited for him.
Once a Lawman Page 20