Love and Honor: The Coltrane Saga, Book 7 (13 page)

“You are going to be in big, big trouble,
Señorita
Kit,” Carasia admonished. “Who is this man that Anaya says you tried to take from her?”

“Someone I wouldn’t have if he were the last man alive—Kurt Tanner.” Kit dropped the last few feet to the ground, dusted herself off, then ran toward the stable as fast as her legs would carry her. Damn Anaya and her lies, she cursed silently, and damn Kurt Tanner for all the misery he’s caused. Oh, she couldn’t
wait
to show him up.

Once on Pegasus and out of sight of her house, she began to relax. It was a beautiful day, all blue and gold, and it was only going to get better—she could just feel it. She leaned forward to give Pegasus a pat, assuring him that in a few hours he’d be legally hers.

Riguero was at the pen when she arrived. He greeted her enthusiastically. “I have just enough men to act as
picadors
and
banderillas
—but without the lances and darts, of course,” he assured her with a broad grin.

Kit nodded her approval, then asked, “Did you take my note to Joselito?”

His happy expression became one of deep concern. “
Si
, I found the old
torero
at his casa by the sea. He read the note you sent him, and he was very happy. He packed a box for me to bring to you, and he also sent his
muleta
. I must ask you,
señorita
”—his eyes narrowed suspiciously—“how far do you plan to take your little joke?”

“Far enough that
Señor
Tanner will feel like a complete fool,” Kit curtly declared. “Don’t worry, Riguero. I know what I’m doing, and no one will get hurt—not me, not Malo. Just have the men ready to help me if I need it, and everything will be fine.” She turned toward the barn. “I’m going to do the
faena
—the footwork, the passes.”

Riguero protested frantically, “No, no, not the
faena
,
señorita
. It is too dangerous. You could be killed, or we may have to kill the bull. He does not belong to this ranch, and the doctor-vet, he will be furious. He will have our heads for allowing such a thing to happen, and—”

“You musn’t worry. You’ve seen me in the ring before, Riguero, and you know I’m good. Everyone knows I’m good—except the pompous
Señor
Tanner, and he’ll find that out soon enough.” She grinned, imagining his reaction, then suddenly frowned. “I think you’d better have a couple of vaqueros close by, just in case he gets any ideas about stopping me. I want to make sure he learns something from being so stubborn.” She winked and hurried on her way.

Kurt Tanner was on time. He wanted to get this contest over with and claim his horse.

Riguero greeted him, inviting him to take a seat where some benches had been set up in the shade. “I’ll stand,” he said curtly. “I’ve a feeling this won’t take long. Has the
señorita
even shown up?”

Riguero nodded happily.
Señorita
Kit was right. This man needed to be taught a lesson.

Kurt pulled a watch from his vest pocket. “It’s time,” he announced as a cry erupted from the group of vaqueros around the pen.

Kit appeared, and Kurt shook his head in disbelief. She was wearing the clothes of a matador—a shirtwaist of hand-drawn linen lace, a short jacket, and knee-length skintight trousers of blue silk, richly embroidered in gold and silver. His stunned gaze took in the coral-pink silk stockings and flat black slippers. Perched atop her hair was a
montera
—a
torero
hat made of tiny black silk chenille balls.

“A perfect fit, no?” Riguero beamed. “She borrowed the costume from her friend, the retired
torero
, Joselito Gomez.”

“Fine,” Kurt said brusquely as Kit walked toward him. Raising his voice loud enough for her to hear, he said, “But I didn’t come here to look at costumes. She said she was going to fight a bull, so let’s get on with it.”

Kit reached him, saucily grinning. She rested her elbows on the railing in front of him and said coquettishly, “Welcome,
señor
. I’m glad you could make it. It’s frustrating to put on a show without an audience.”

His jaw tensed. How far was she going to go, dammit? “Then let the show begin,
señorita
.”

Kit suddenly pretended surprise. Wide-eyed, she asked, “Did you know that five years ago the Spanish government declared it illegal for women to perform in bullrings?”

So this was the trick! She was going to tell him that he’d goaded her to do something against the law. Before he could say anything, she rushed on, “Yes. They did. Why, when the law was passed at the turn of the century, La Reverte, the famous
señorita matadora
, was forced to take off his wig and reveal himself as a man! Can you imagine that?”

“Is that what you’re going to do?” he snickered. “Or just back out of our deal by saying it’s illegal?”

“Neither.” Kit smiled innocently. “I just thought you’d want to hear a little history before the performance.

“Did you also know,” she continued, enjoying herself immensely, “that one of Goya’s etchings depicted a female
torera
performing in the Saragossa arena?”

Kurt said nothing, merely regarded her with cold eyes.

“So,” she finished triumphantly, “it would seem that you have much to learn about women,
señor
.”

“And you have much to learn about me,” he snapped impatiently, “such as how I don’t like game playing. You made a wager. Keep it, or give me my horse.”

Kit’s violet eyes flashed with rage. She raised her hand to signal the waiting vaqueros. Taking the red satin cape and ornate silver sword from Riguero, she turned on her heel and began to walk toward the center of the pen. She waved the cape at Kurt and cried, “Did you know that bulls are color-blind? They charge the matador if he uses a red or a white cape. You’re like a bull in so many ways, Tanner! In your own stubborn way, you’re just as blind!”

Kurt suddenly swore at Riguero, “Goddammit, what kind of trick is this? She’s going to get herself killed, unless you run a blind, crippled bull in there—”

“No, no,
señor
. “Riguero laughed heartily. “You will see. Just watch.”

Kurt had had enough. There was no way he would stand there and watch that foolish girl get herself hurt…or worse. “Enough!” he roared as the bull was about to be released. He raised himself up to swing over the railing. “That’s Malo. I know that bull, and he’s mean.”

He suddenly felt a gun pressed against his side. Riguero was smiling apologetically. “Sorry,
señor
, but the
señorita
, she say you are to watch, so please get off the railing and do as she asks.”

Kurt had no choice but to obey.

The bull roared into the ring and went straight for Kit. She spread the cloth in front of his snout and swung it smoothly by her side as he charged. Malo followed the cape past Kit. Then he turned and charged anew. Again she swung the cape, and the bull came frighteningly close to her slender body. As the bull made another charge, Kurt observed how deftly she worked, with complete control over the bull. Finally she gathered the cape against her body. Confused, the bull stopped short. Kit boldly turned her back in the traditional pose of mastery. The vaqueros rewarded her with a roar of “
Ole!
”

Kurt rubbed his eyes as if to dispel the amazing spectacle before him. There was no way he could deny that Kit knew exactly what she was doing. She displayed her mastery by letting the beast’s horn actually graze her chest!

Furiously Kurt’s hands clenched at his sides. So he’d been tricked by a woman once again! The little vixen had known exactly what she was doing when she had goaded him into accepting her challenge. He felt like a fool. He was a fool. The vaqueros standing there gloating would make sure that everyone heard about his humiliation. That, however, did not cause him concern. He’d never cared what others thought; he didn’t like the way he felt about himself. “All right,” he quietly told Riguero. “She wins.”

He turned to go, but the gun pressed against him once more.

“She wants you to see it all,” Riguero told him.

“Twist the sword in me instead of the bull, right?” Riguero shrugged and turned his eyes back to the pen. “She’s going to go to the
faena
,” he said, sounding worried.

At that moment, Kurt didn’t care if the bull gored her right in her smart little ass.

She executed a
rebolera
—holding her cape to her waist, she twirled as the bull passed, so that the cape stood up like the skirt of a pirouetting dancer. Kurt marveled at her skill, and, he had to admit, her courage. She swung her cape over her head, a movement that was especially dangerous because it made her lose sight of the bull at a critical moment. She then swept it behind her body, and knelt before him—the ultimate display of skill—and the ultimate laugh at death.

Finally Kit signaled to the vaqueros that she was victorious. She had successfully exhausted the bull. They came into the pen and drove Malo easily into the stable.

Breathless and excited, Kit accepted congratulations from her audience. She searched for Kurt Tanner, eager to enjoy her moment of triumph and glory.

Kit headed toward Riguero, hoping to find Kurt there. He was nowhere to be seen, however. She was disappointed but not surprised. She hadn’t really expected him to linger. Reaching Riguero, Kit said tonelessly, “He left.”

“
Si.
He said to give you this.”

She took the slip of paper and saw that it was the bill of sale Kurt had shown her earlier. He had signed possession of the Hispano over to her.

“He said nothing.” Riguero met her disappointed gaze. “But you were right. He wanted to stop the contest, then he wanted to leave before it was over. My men, they made him stay. Then he wrote on the paper and gave it to me. But he said nothing,” he repeated for emphasis. Then, watching her face, he added, “I could tell he was very, very angry.”

Kit shrugged. So what? She had won fair and square. It was his own fault if he felt foolish. He’d never even asked if she’d had any experience as a
torera
. Well, that’s what he got for being so stubborn and arrogant. “Thank you,” she said to Riguero. “You all did a good job for me, and I’ll see that you’re rewarded.”

“There is something else,
señorita
.” Kit looked at him expectantly.

“Your mother, she came looking for you.”

Kit reeled, gasping, “Oh, no! When?”

“During the
faena
…when you were doing the
rebolera
.”

“Where is she? Has she already gone?”

Riguero shook his head and pointed speechlessly.

Kit followed his gaze to a shady spot beneath a tree. Her mother lay on the ground, surrounded by vaqueros anxiously fanning her with their sombreros.

She had fainted.

Chapter Eleven

Kit felt like a prisoner. She
was
a prisoner, she fumed, in her own home! Pacing up and down her room, she paused occasionally to peer out the window at the guard posted below her balcony. Kit hoped that Carasia didn’t lose her job for lying. She’d only been obeying orders. Her mother had been so angry when none of the servants would tell her anything that she’d gone to search for Kit herself. When she’d awakened after fainting, the nightmare had really begun. Kit had been waiting almost two days now for the family conference with a growing sense of dread.

Her father had arrived from Madrid a few hours ago, leaving the embassy right after receiving her mother’s frantic cable. Oh, damn, damn, damn, Kit cursed as she continued to pace. Why did her mother have to arrive at that moment? She had already been furious beyond the point of reason, and the sight of her daughter in the pen with a charging bull was more than she could take. Kit regretted the incident more than anything in the world, but what could she do now except apologize?

She heard a knock on her door as a carriage rattled into the circular driveway. She dared to peek out the window and felt a rush of hope at the sight of the family arriving—Kitty, Travis, and Marilee. It didn’t bother Kit that her mother had summoned them. Kitty would be on her side, as always. She would also have received Kit’s letter by now.

The knock on her door was louder and more insistent. “Whoever it is, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you in. I’m a prisoner, in case you didn’t know,” Kit called out dryly.

“I have the key, Kit. Is it all right for me to come in?”

It was her father. Kit’s anger fled, and she said quickly, “Yes, please do. I didn’t know it was you.”

Colt walked in, his expression serious. Kit faced him nervously, not knowing what to do or say. Then he held his arms open to her. She went to him immediately, gratefully accepting his hug as he told her what she already knew. “You’ve really done it this time, little girl. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your mother so mad.”

“I know,” Kit murmured against his broad shoulder. “I’m terribly sorry, but what can I do?”

He father motioned for her to sit down on the divan by the fireplace. “It’s a bad situation, Kit. You know that your mother has been after me for a long time to move back to New York.”

“And now you agree with her.”

“It’s not a matter of agreeing or not. She won’t be put off this time. Besides,” he added grimly, “there are serious rumors of war breaking out in Europe. I think it would be safer for all of us to leave Spain.”