Heart of Thunder (19 page)

“Saw me?” she said, uneasy. “Are you saying I was watched?”

“Of course. Everyone was watched. We did not even know Kingsley had a daughter. You were first seen with your large escort going to the ranch, and then again each day after that. It was not difficult to go to a neighboring ranch and find out who you were. But believe me, if I had known it was you, you would not be here now. You were the last woman I wanted to see again, Sam.”

“Don’t call me that! I told you—only my friends call me that!”

“Of course, and we are not friends,” he said with mock seriousness. “But I would rather not call you Señorita Kingsley. I have come to dislike that name a great deal. If you had been honest with me when we met and told me your real name, I would have made the connection later, when I learned who was the owner of the Hacienda de las Flores.”

“When
you
learned?”

“From Antonio,” he quickly amended.

“It wouldn’t have made any difference, though, would it?” she retorted. “You would still have harassed my father.”

“Yes, but you would not have become involved. Tell me. Why did you not use your real name?”

“Blackstone was my mother’s maiden name. I always traveled under that name. My father and I thought I should avoid using the Kingsley name whenever I was traveling, so as to avoid being kidnapped. Ironic, wouldn’t you say? And you’re a fine one to talk about assuming false names—Rufino.”

He grinned, amused by her taunt. “You have me there, Samina.”

Samantha’s eyes flashed, and she started to tell him how much she hated his calling her that name, but
Hank held up his hand, the crinkles around his eyes deepening.

“You protest too much.” He grinned. “You may as well know now that I will call you whatever I want, be it Samina,
gata…
or
puta
.”

“You—oh!” she fumed, and her covers quivered. “Get out of here!”

He quirked a brow. “You order me, in my own house?” His voice was deliberate.

“Why did you come in here? I didn’t invite you in! I may be your prisoner, but I don’t have to suffer your loathsome company!”

“I came to see if you were hungry. You did not eat last night.”

“Of course I am hungry. Of all the stupid excuses! You really wanted to humiliate me by catching me in bed. Did you hope to find me unclothed as well?” she hissed. “You’re disgusting!”

Hank’s mouth thinned to a hard line. He had believed that he could be with her and keep his anger under control, but he was finding that he couldn’t. Her disdain enraged him. He would not take her contempt. Damn her, he would not!

Samantha screamed as he took a step toward her, murder in his eyes. She scrambled to the top of the bed, trying to take the covers with her. But the covers caught at the end of the bed, and she let them go. It wasn’t important. All that mattered was getting as far away from Hank as she could.

She cowered there in the bed, her eyes wide with fright. Because of that terrible fear, Hank moved no closer. Her anger could elicit his own anger, but afraid, she moved him differently.

“It is well you fear me,
niña
,” he said, and his voice was controlled. “It is well you remember what happened the last time you angered me.”

“I don’t fear you—I hate you. I just can’t bear to have your hands on me!”

Hank stiffened but managed to laugh derisively. “Perhaps you do not know what you look like, Sam. I have never seen such a bedraggled woman. I certainly do not intend to dirty my ‘hands’ by touching you.”

“I know how I look, damn you!” she shouted. “And I know whose fault it is for having me dragged up here, riding day and night, never getting a chance to rest or to wash. What the hell do you expect? Should I be wearing silk and smell of roses?”

“What you are wearing now is not so bad.” Hank chuckled.

Samantha gasped and quickly crossed her arms over her chest where the nipples had been pressing against the thin linen camisole. But her hips and legs were still revealed by every curve in the skin-tight bloomers, and she couldn’t really hide herself.

“Oh!
Will
you get out of here and leave me alone?” she cried, the humiliation more than she could bear. “And don’t come back. Someone else can see to my needs.”

“Perhaps you have not truly considered your position here. You will not be giving the orders. I have not given it much thought either, but it is time I did.
Sí
.” He grinned. “I think I might enjoy having you at my mercy. After all, Samina,” he added, rubbing his side at the place where she had shot him, “I owe you.” And he turned abruptly and left.

Samantha threw herself down on the bed to cry out her frustration. This was not the way she had planned for them to meet again. She was supposed to be the one in control, not him! At his mercy? Ah, God, it just wasn’t fair!

A little while later, Inigo brought her a large breakfast. The food did not comfort her, however, for while she ate she had to watch her only window being nailed up with sturdy boards. Then a dark little man came in and secured her door with a lock.

After the meal was over and the door shut and locked,
Samantha sat staring at the four walls and the boarded window. Only thin slivers of light came through. As the heat in the tiny room increased, her frustration mounted. She felt sticky and grimy, and she was working herself into such an angry state that she could hardly breathe.

Finally she pounded on the door, screaming that she needed a bath. But no one came. She gave up after hammering at the door on and off for an hour without any response. There being nothing else to do, she lay back down on the bed and fell into an exhausted sleep.

Chapter 20

S
CREAMING woke her, a woman’s crying and pleading. What were they doing to that poor woman to make her scream and beg like that? Was Hank making her scream?

The screams finally stopped, but the crying continued. A while later that stopped, too, and all was quiet again—too quiet. Samantha could hear her heart pounding. It was the only sound she heard, a maddening sound. She was putting herself in that woman’s place, imagining all kinds of horrible things. She was finally beginning to see just how dangerous her situation really was.

At his mercy
—his
mercy! Samantha squeezed her fists until her nails stung her palms. She hated her fear. She had to conquer it, either conquer it or shame herself. Anger was better. Anger was strong. Anger! She would make herself recall all of her fury.

“Hank!” Samantha shouted. “Hank, if you’re out there, you damn well better answer me!”

She shot off the bed and began pounding on the door again, the anger propelling her.

“Hank!” she called, her voice strong and unwavering.

Hank sat on the porch steps, listening to the racket Samantha was making. A satisfied grin curled his lips. Let her wonder. Let her stew.

The sun beat down on his legs, stretched out comfortably on the steps. A light breeze teased his black curls, sending a long lock down into his eyes. He brushed
it away as he watched two of his men getting their gear ready to leave. They were returning to their villages, returning to their lives, their mission over with.

All the men had been paid handsomely from the sale up north of the stolen cattle and horses. He no longer needed so many men. They had served his purpose, this group of peasants and bandits, and he had been lucky to find them so quickly. But he didn’t need them any more. He had all he needed—Kingsley’s daughter.

His smile deepened as he considered the little hellion inside the house. It just might prove satisfying after all that she had turned out to be Kingsley’s daughter. He had thought about her much too often in the last two months, wanting to get her out of his system but unable to do it. She had haunted him, and his anger had been matched by bewilderment. Why, he had asked himself again and again, did the woman mean so much to him? Why couldn’t he simply forget the vixen? She needed to be punished for what she had done to him, what she was
still
doing to him.

He didn’t know what had happened between Samantha and Adrien Allston after he left, but he couldn’t help wondering about that. Did she still love the man? Did she believe what Hank had told her about Adrien? He had thought about it all during that torturous ride to Santa Fe, where he had finally stopped to have the wound in his side attended to. He still had the bullet in his possession. He carried it with him as a harsh reminder to himself never to fall prey to a woman’s deadly charms.

He had stayed in Santa Fe for two days, getting his strength back after losing so much blood. There he found the white stallion and couldn’t resist buying him. El Rey and his other horse made it possible for him to reach Mexico in record time, and he had felt better then, believing that his luck was returning. Then, meeting Kingsley, Hank had reached a dead end. How that man infuriated him, refusing even to listen to Hank’s story.
Hank, raging, left Kingsley and sought out the nearest
cantina
, losing his rage in a three-day drunken stupor. Coming out of that drunk, he got the idea to force Kingsley into selling the land.

The scheme surfaced as he was remembering Lorenzo and his parting promise that if Hank ever needed him for anything, he could find him in Chihuahua. Hank had thought, I could use you now,
amigo
, to help me change someone’s mind. Lorenzo was indebted to Hank for saving his life. It had happened just outside El Paso, where Hank had come upon Lorenzo as he was about to be lynched by four drunken cowboys who claimed he was a cattle rustler. Hank never asked about the accusation. He simply couldn’t see a man being hanged for anything less than murder, especially not a countryman.

He had risked his life getting Lorenzo away from the four men because they were too drunk to realize the danger of his rifle pointed at them. There was shooting, and he had lost one of his horses, but he and Lorenzo and El Rey managed to get across the border.

A week later, when Hank located Lorenzo in Chihuahua, his new friend was not opposed to Hank’s idea. He had no great love for
gringos—
not after four had tried to lynch him—nor did the other men Lorenzo enlisted. Hank and he had to break three men out of jail. Friends of those three joined Lorenzo and Hank, until there were a dozen.

The plans did not go smoothly. Kingsley was not easy to intimidate. But when the men learned that he had a daughter, they knew Kingsley could be forced to give in.

Hank would approach him again, saying he had heard of Kingsley’s troubles and thought perhaps he was ready to reconsider. Kingsley would jump to it. He would sell, leave Mexico, and await the return of his daughter. There was nothing else he could do, not if he wanted her back.

That would be the end of it. Kingsley would have sold his land to Hank, in Hank’s real name. Samantha might want to return one day to question the new owner about his cousin, but Hank would just have to avoid her. There would be nothing to connect the respectable new owner with the bandit who had kidnapped Samantha Kingsley.

Kingsley would not be cheated, for Hank intended to pay a fair price for the land. Of course, he would be making his offer based on Patrick McClure’s promises, but he doubted that Kingsley would mind if he had to wait awhile for the money. He would be more concerned about his daughter’s safety.

It was time he sent word to Pat, to let him know he would need the money quickly. Diego would be the best man to take care of sending a wire. After what had happened just a little while ago between him and his woman, it would be better if Diego left camp for a while. He was too good a shot to let go completely yet. There was still the matter of delivering Samantha to her father, and that would be dangerous if Kingsley had any tricks planned.

“Hank, you miserable wretch! I know you’re out there. Open this door!”

He flinched when the pounding suddenly grew louder. What the hell was she using to bang on the door? But he wasn’t quite ready to go to her. She could make all the noise she wanted, no one would respond. Lorenzo was the only one who might protest, and Lorenzo was not there. Hank had sent him back down the mountain to make certain they were not followed, and to cover any signs Samantha might have secretly left behind to show their way.

Lorenzo wouldn’t be back until the next day. It was just as well. Hank liked Lorenzo. He would hate to see the younger man hurt by Samantha’s duplicity. And he had no doubt that she would try to use him. She would use every weapon at her disposal to get away.

“Rufino!” Samantha tried, and Hank grinned. Several moments passed before she called out, “Lorenzo!”

Hank frowned. The pounding became distant then, and he knew it was the window she was banging on. He jumped to his feet angrily.

Hank unlocked the door and threw it open, startling Samantha. She whirled away from the boarded-up window, holding the boot she had been banging with. She was wearing the other one, and the rest of her clothes, as well, except for the gunbelt, which was still lying over the trunk, useless. Her hair was a tangled mass, and her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were green fire. He stopped, startled.

Angry, she was magnificent. And the sight of her, dirty, wildly disarrayed, yet still undeniably beautiful, made Hank forget his anger.

“I think I will take those,” he said mildly, indicating her boots. “I did not have boards put over your windows so you could pound them loose.”

“You can’t have them.”

Samantha stepped back, holding the boot possessively against her chest. Even a boot could be a weapon. She wouldn’t give them up.

“Just where have you been?” she demanded. “I have been calling for you half the day!”

He shrugged. “I was busy.” Some of the stiffness left her, and he asked courteously, “Did you want something, Sam?”

“I want a bath.”

“There is a stream at the end of the village. I will be happy to take you there.”

Samantha glared. “I want a decent bath, a hot one—here.”

“What you suggest would involve too much trouble. It would be simpler just to take you to the stream.”