Heart of Thunder (20 page)

“I don’t care how much trouble it would be!”

“Of course not. You would not be the one to carry the tub in here, to tote and heat the water.”

“You refuse?”

“Perhaps if you ask for the bath nicely, instead of demanding it,” he offered, “I might consider it.”

Samantha stood frozen, tight-lipped. Nicely? She would rather throw the boot at him. But she wanted that bath desperately, wanted it badly enough to demean herself this one time.

She swallowed hard. “Could I have a bath in here—please?”

“Ah! I knew you could be agreeable as long as you had the right persuasion.” He smiled.

Samantha waited a moment, holding herself in check. “Well?” she finally asked.

“You will have your bath—if I can find a tub in this miserable village.”

He left, locking the door behind him. It was nearly an hour before he returned with a small round tub that looked so old she was sure it would leak. He had the water ready and brought it in. There was only enough to half fill the tub, but he had found her soap and a towel, even a brush and a change of clothes, for which she was grateful, though silently so.

But he didn’t plan to leave. As nonchalantly as could be, Hank sat down on the bed, leaning back against the wall, obviously prepared to stay.

“What are you doing?” Samantha demanded.

“I have never watched a woman bathe before,” he said smoothly. “I think it will be amusing.”

“Amusing?” she gasped and pointed to the door. “Get out of here!”

But Hank shook his head, that slow, maddening grin beginning. “I will stay.”

“Then I won’t bathe,” she said stonily.

“Suit yourself.”

Hank bounded off the bed in a single lithe movement and picked up one of the empty buckets he had left on the floor. When he began scooping the water back out of the tub, Samantha caught his arm.

“Leave it!” she snapped, furious. “You enjoy humiliating me, don’t you?”

“
Sí, gatita
. I must admit I do.”

She turned her back on him, so angry she wanted to scream. Suddenly she began to yank off her clothes, and though she heard him sit down on the bed, she went right on. He hoped to humiliate her, but she just wouldn’t let him. There was no need to remove everything. She would just have to wash herself as best she could with the camisole and bloomers still on. They needed washing anyway. Still keeping her back to Hank, Samantha stepped into the little tub.

She shrieked as she felt him at her back, his hands at her waist. Before she could stop him, he had pulled the camisole over her head. Covering her breasts, she faced him, screaming her rage. But that left her unguarded, and in the next moment her bloomers were falling down her hips. She swung a fist at Hank, but he caught it and pushed her down into the water.

“You son of a bitch! How dare—” He bent over, reaching into the water, and she panicked. “No! Don’t you touch me, damn—”

But Hank only wanted her bloomers, and he tugged them off. Samantha was bright red when he finished undressing her. She had never been so shamed—well, once before, and
that
had been because of him, too!

Hank dropped her wet bloomers into the empty bucket and said matter-of-factly, “Bathe properly.” Then he sauntered back to the bed and sat down again.

He hadn’t touched her. Thank God for that. But she wasn’t going to entertain him, either. She gave him a look of utter contempt, turning her back on him. Scooping up the soap, she began to wash.

“You are no fun at all, little one.”

Hank chuckled, and she muttered, “You haven’t a shred of decency in you, Hank Chavez. I used to think you were such a fine gentleman—”

“And so I can be, when there is a lady present,” he pointed out cruelly.

“You’re a savage!”

“You keep calling me names, Sam, and I will be obliged to do the same. I do not think you will like the sting of the names I have for you.”

She ignored the warning and continued, almost conversationally, “You know, I wanted to see you horsewhipped before I had you shot. I used to dream about seeing you bleed.”

“You have already made me bleed.”

“Not enough. You hurt me!” she shouted. “I may have flirted with you, even encouraged you, but those are harmless things, things every woman does. What you did to me was unforgivable.”

“So you do not forgive me,” he replied coldly. “I will not lose sleep over it.”

“Perhaps you will, when the bounty hunters start catching up with you. I have wanted posters out on you. Did you know that?”

“It will not be the first time,” Hank said. He sounded unconcerned, but the fact was that he hadn’t known.

“You won’t shrug it off so easily after I raise the price,
amigo
,” she gloated. “I will make the reward for you so tempting that every bounty hunter and gunslinger in the country will be looking for you.”

Hank’s gray eyes narrowed, focusing on her back. “That is,
if
you leave here.”

Samantha tensed. Had she gone too far? Then she recalled the woman screaming earlier, and a chill overtook her.

“There’s another woman here in this camp, isn’t there?” she began.

“There are several. Those of my men who had women brought them along.”

“I heard a woman screaming,” she said hesitantly. “Is she here with one of your men?”

“Yes,” he said, deciding there was no reason not to tell her.

“What happened to her?”

“She was beaten.”

“But why?”

“She was unfaithful. The whole camp knew it. She was with another man last night, before Diego returned, and that wasn’t the first time. But Diego did not find the other man’s boots under his bed until today.”

“Diego? She is his woman?”

“Was. He has cast her out.”

“Oh!” Samantha said in disgust. “He beats the poor woman,
then
he wants nothing more to do with her.”

“You approve of unfaithfulness?”

“No, I—I just don’t approve of women being beaten.”

“Even when they deserve it?”

She didn’t answer. That argument would get them nowhere. “If he was going to beat her, he shouldn’t have thrown her out. Or vice versa. He should have done one or the other, not both. Is she all right, the woman?”

“She will mend.”

His casual answer raised Samantha’s ire. “You have no pity, do you? I suppose you didn’t even try to stop Diego?”

“I did not interfere, no,” he answered honestly. “I would have done the same thing.”

“And to think you asked me to be your woman. You would have beaten me, too, wouldn’t you?”

“Most certainly,” he replied coldly. “Your eyes follow any man.”

“That’s not true!”

“No?” he asked innocently. “Then you are still faithful to Adrien?”

“You bastard!” Samantha hissed. “You had to say that, didn’t you?”

Hank chuckled.

She stopped talking and concentrated on her bath.
Washing her hair in the confining space was nearly impossible, but she finally managed to scoop water onto her head with cupped hands. Angrily, she lathered in the soap.

Samantha didn’t hear Hank come up behind her again. All at once the full bucket of cold water splashed down on her head, and she gasped and sputtered, enraged, but his cold voice stopped her from saying anything.

“Get out, Sam,” he ordered. “You have been in there long enough. It is nearly dinner time, and I think you will prepare it.”

He walked out of the room, leaving the door open, and Samantha sighed with relief. She had intended to stay in the tub until she got some privacy.

She left the tub immediately and, after dressing in the clean, low-cut peasant blouse and full cotton skirt that Hank had provided, she quickly scrubbed her underclothes and blouse, then cleaned the leather vest and skirt with the towel. She left the room, carrying the wet clothing over her arm.

“Can I hang these on the porch to dry without their being stolen in the night?”

Hank was sitting at the rough table near the fireplace, a glass in his hand. “You can hang them on the porch as long as you go no farther than that.”

The front door was open, and she stepped onto the shaded porch. There wasn’t a thing on it, not a plant, not a chair. The room she had just stepped out of was nearly as bare, with only the table and four chairs, a saddle in a corner, and a bedroll next to it. Open cupboards ran above a long counter by the fireplace. They held a few dishes and pans and some food, but there was no stove.

Samantha laid her clothes over the railing. The sun had disappeared below the high cliff behind the houses, but it was still light outside. She tried to see what lay
at the other end of the narrow valley, but another house blocked her view.

A man crossed in front of the house, and Samantha quickly went back inside to escape his curious gaze. But, inside, Hank’s eyes followed her, and she began to feel self-conscious in the loose, flowing clothes. The white blouse was much too low, falling just above the curves of her pointed breasts, and the green sash she had tied around her waist only served to emphasize her breasts. The skirt was too short.

“I’ll help you empty that tub now, if you’re ready?” Samantha offered.

“It can wait.”

She turned toward the cupboards. “What is it you want for supper?”

“There are some beans you can refry, and one of your father’s plump chickens ready to roast. There will be more supplies coming in a few days, but we are low now.”

Samantha tensed, but she did not say anything about the stolen chickens. It wouldn’t serve anything to argue with him about his thievery.

After a while, Hank got up and emptied the tub. Samantha didn’t offer to help, as she had her hands full. After she had put the food on the table, Hank produced a bottle of wine, pouring them each a glass.

When they were almost finished eating, Samantha finally asked, “Why hasn’t Lorenzo come by to see me today?”

“He is gone.”

“Gone?” Her voice held dismay. “You mean he left? Why?”

“You give yourself away with so much concern,” Hank said drily. “Is he to be your next conquest?”

“I’m not looking for a conquest,” she retorted. “But if I were, I would certainly prefer Lorenzo to you. Where did he go?”

“He will be back, but I do not think I will let you see him.”

“You intend to keep me locked up in here with only your company, then?”

“You grow bored with my company already,” he chided her. “When I am enjoying the thought of having a woman in my house—even you.”

“Just don’t get any ideas, Hank,” Samantha warned him. “I don’t mind cooking for you, but that’s all I intend to do.”

“We shall see,
niña
.”

“I mean it,” she said flatly, refusing to be drawn into an argument.

He grinned. “You know, you are beautiful when your eyes flash like that,” he said softly, his grin devilish. “And you have the body of an angel. I wonder how long I can withstand the temptation you present.”

Samantha rose from the table and walked stiffly to her room, slamming the door shut without another word. Hank’s brow creased in a thoughtful frown. He had said those last words in Spanish, for no particular reason beyond his own amusement. Yet she reacted as if she had understood completely. Was it possible? Had she only pretended, before, that she didn’t know Spanish?

Hank sat there thinking, long into the night. The bottle of wine was empty when, finally, he rose and, after locking Samantha’s door, bedded down on his cold floor and slept.

Chapter 21

H
ANK didn’t allow anyone near Samantha for two days, and Samantha spent those days in an agony of wariness, wondering what he would do next. She hadn’t known that she still tempted him. Appalled by his admission, she pinned her hair up in a severe knot and wore her own old clothes, without tucking in the blouse or wearing a belt. She meant to look as dowdy as she could, but she knew her efforts were failing when Hank continued to watch her, his gaze much too admiring. And he continued to lord it over her, reminding her that she was at his mercy.

So she should have been thrilled when he informed her on their fourth night together that he was leaving the next morning. She should have been delighted—but, for some reason, she was alarmed.

“Why? Where are you going?” she demanded. “How long will you be gone?”

Hank laughed heartily. “You sound as if you will miss me,
querida
.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she snapped, getting hold of herself. “You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

“Now you disappoint me. I had hoped you had come to enjoy my company.”

Her chin jutted upward. “Stop teasing and tell me where you are going.”

“You demand answers,” he sighed, shaking his head. “When will you learn to ask nicely? The lesson with the bath was not enough?”

Samantha clenched her fists. “Oh, I hate you when you get like this!”

“And here I thought you hated me
all
the time.” He chuckled, his eyes dancing, enjoying her rage.

“To hell with you!” she shouted in uncontrolled fury. “Don’t tell me, then. I don’t care anyway. I only hope you never come back!” She stormed into her room, slamming the door.

But she didn’t sleep well that night. Why was he leaving? It made her uneasy. She hated not knowing what was going on.

That next morning, Hank came in to tell her good-bye. He hadn’t meant to, had intended just to go. But something drew him. A last look? He shrugged it off.

She was standing by the window. Sunlight filtering in through the cracks in the boards touched her hair with red fire. She was lovely. Even dressed in silk she wouldn’t have appeared more beautiful.

She turned, slowly, and faced him.

“You’re leaving now?” she asked lightly.

“Yes.”

He waited, but she wasn’t going to ask questions again. But he no longer wanted her to worry, and he knew how stubborn she could be.

“I should be back in a week,” he explained. “There is an old man here, Inigo’s grandfather, who will look after you while I am gone.”

“How thoughtful,” she murmured.

“Do I hear bitterness? Perhaps you will miss me…just a little? After all, without me, who will you fight with?”