Ride The Wild Wind (Time Travel Historical Romance) (7 page)

Antonio reached
down and scooped up the brown and black dog and tucked him into a deep side
pocket on the saddle bag. “Put one hand on the pommel, and then lift your left
foot into the stirrup. I will hold you upright so you will not fall. Then I
will lift your injured leg over his back.

She inclined her
cheek toward him. “I have a confession to make. I’m going to hurl.”

“Hurl?”

“Barf. Blow
chunks. Spew.”

“Spew?”

 “
Puke!”

“You are not going
to regurgitate.”

“Oh yes I am.”

“Do not fear. I
will not let you fall.”

She clenched her
eyes shut. “I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do this,” she chanted over
and over.

“Open your eyes.”

“No. I don’t want
to see this either.”

“Do it.”

“No!”

“Woman, you test
the limits of my patience.”

Her eyes flew
open. “Yeah? Well here’s a news flash for you, mister. You test my patience,
too.”

“Lift now.”

“No!”

He growled deep in
his throat. “Tell me when you are ready.”

“I’ll never be
ready to get on this freaking animal.”

If she were not
injured he might have turned her across his knee for her childish behavior. “On
the count of three…one, two...”

“No!”

He tightened his
hold around her waist and she inhaled sharply. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.”

Exasperated, he
blew out a breath. What a difficult woman-child! “Put your left foot in the
stirrup.”

“I can’t.”

“Do it now.”

Her lower lip
trembled. “But I’m scared.”

He would not give
into female hysteria. “
Now.”

“But you never
said where you were taking me.”

“To a friend. She
will see that you receive food and proper clothing.”

“If you’re lying
to me, so help me God, I’ll—”

Not wanting to
hear any more, he lifted. She cried out, faltering in his arms.

“No! Grab the
pommel. Quick!” Her fist feebly closed around it.

“Shift your weight
to your good leg. I have you.”

“You are so
freaking d-dead,” she choked out as she lifted. “I’m going to kill you for
this! Do you know that?”

“Very well. Kill
me later.” He hefted her sore leg over Dinishwo’s back and she doubled over the
mount’s neck in obvious pain. He then swung up behind her, laid a tentative
hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Hell no, I’m not
all right, but gee, thanks for asking.”

The horse pranced
beneath their weight. Antonio stroked her arms with his palms. “Take your
time.”

“Go to hell.”

He chuckled. “I
probably will.”

She sniffled.
“That really hurt you know.”

“I’m sorry. There
was no other way. I have nothing else to bind your ribs with unless, of course,
you care to part with a portion of your skirt or blouse?”

“Not on your life.
These are all the clothes I have in case you haven’t noticed.”

“When you feel
able, slowly sit up.”

 
Momentarily, her spine straightened.

“Lean against me,”
he commanded softly. When she did not budge, he eased her back, taking care not
to press on her sore ribs. Her bottom now rested snug against his crotch.
Another mistake.

She turned her
face slightly, her soft red hair brushing his cheek and his body responded
instantly to the woman in his arms. A residual floral scent in her hair
reminded him of the fragrance he often smelled after his dreams of her.

She squirmed in the
saddle, as if trying to get comfortable, driving her buttocks harder against
his groin. Unable to put a respectable distance between them, he grimaced at
their predicament.  “Is all this wiggling necessary?” He hadn’t meant to
sound harsh, but she could not possibly know the effect she was having on him.

 “I can’t get
comfortable. Your gun is poking me in the booty.”

“You are not
wearing boots.”

She groaned. “Oh
my God, not boots, silly. My booty. You know…my butt.”

Strapped low on
his thigh, his revolver was no where near
her ‘booty’. He almost told
her so. “There is no extra room in the saddle. We’ve sixty rough miles ahead of
us. You had best get comfortable and quick.”

“Sixty miles?” She
turned to look at him as much as she could. “Are you nuts? I can’t ride sixty
miles. Not like this.”

“Would you rather
sit behind me and hang on?”

She opened her
mouth to speak, then snapped it shut and shook her head no.

“Then I suggest
you and your um…
booty,
prepare for a long and uncomfortable ride.”

CHAPTER FOUR

They’d made
excellent travel time, arriving in Albuquerque
long before nightfall. Once at the brothel, the ladies whisked the red haired
woman away to clean her healing wounds and find fresh clothing. After taking a
quick meal, Antonio headed upstairs to bathe and prepare for his meeting with
Diablo Cortez.

As he relaxed in a
steaming bath, Elena Costanza took a seat beside him on a gold velvet cushioned
stool next to the footed tub. Several uncomfortable minutes passed in relative
silence, the only sound in the room from a ticking clock on a shelf. Elena had
been patient—too much so. He was acutely aware she had studied his every move,
hanging on his every word, looking for signs of deception. He expected her
inquisition about the woman he brought with him might begin at any moment.

“Have you gone
mad, Antonio?”

 Finally,
a response! Hell yes I am mad,
he almost answered. He must be insane. Why
else would he have returned to Elena’s seeking respite, knowing all the while
he would be forced to deal with his demanding mistress’ questions? Attempting
to ignore her, Antonio dunked the pewter pitcher into the tub, filled it with
water and poured a steady stream over his head.

Hoping to spare
himself the onslaught of her unfounded jealousy, he’d told her everything upon
arrival—how he found the woman near a creek, injured and unconscious. What he
hadn’t told Elena was he had dreamed of her for months, that his cousin’s
vision
also foretold her coming. What did Elena expect? For him to leave her behind to
fend off bears and wolves in her weakened state?

Elena was a crafty
spider, always unrelenting in her pursuit of secrets. She wanted to know was if
he had bedded the woman. She was spinning her web, preparing to reel him in for
the kill. All he wanted at the moment was a refreshing bath and a moment of
respite before his meeting with his arms supplier.

He slung his
shoulder-length, wet hair back, then dragged a weary hand down his face to wipe
the water away. Why was it so difficult to find to find peace?

He turned to look
at her.
In a word?  Elena.
Clad in a red lace peignoir, she sat
poised on her stool. The bodice of the low-cut gown scarcely covered her
voluptuous breasts and the sheer garment provided a tantalizing view of Elena’s
lush, nude curves beneath. Not that he was particularly interested anymore.

“So tell me
again,” she prodded. “Who is this woman you brought into my house?”

 He shrugged.
“Hell if I know.”  It was the truth. She had been evasive about the
details of her injuries and true identity.

Elena’s rouged
lips turned downward into a pout. Large, expressive brown eyes became narrow
slits. “She is pretty.”

Antonio dared not
agree.

“But I do not
think her hair color is natural,” Elena commented, her gaze pinning his. “I
suspect she uses dye.”

Antonio ignored
the question and glanced away. To answer would reveal the fact he had indeed
seen the young woman naked—that her hair indeed, wasn’t naturally red.

“Do you think she
is former slave? Elena prodded.

Actually, he had wondered
the same but hadn’t inquired. When he’d bathed her, he
noted a
tattoo—four initials on her left hip. R.T.W.W. That could have been her
master’s initials. Her complexion was the color of coffee diluted with cream,
yet fair enough to pass for white, much like his own before years of wind and
sun had taken a toll. But what did it matter? He’d never cared to make such
distinctions between races or social classes.

Then the reason
for Elena’s question dawned on him. Darker skinned, exotic-looking women were a
much sought after commodity in bordellos. Currently, she had none in her
employ.

“She is not to be
sold.” His tone was a warning. From the look that crossed Elena’s face, he knew
she had been considering exactly that.

“But she is very
lovely with her dusky features, yes?”

Damn her.
He tossed the sponge into the water, splashing Elena. “Give me your word that
she will not be sold.”

Elena’s lips
turned into a pout as she blotted the soapy water with a towel.  “Very
well. She will be my special house guest.” She started to speak again, but
hesitated. “Still, even you cannot deny that she is beautiful. I hope there
will be no trouble. ” The tone of her voice held a question.

Elena had no
intention of letting this die. He needed a diversion and fast. Reaching for a
long-handled brush, then lifted his foot from the water. “Wash my feet.”

Elena snatched the
brush. He propped a foot on the side of the tub. She frowned, then momentarily
commenced scrubbing his toenails with vigor.

“I want the truth,
Antonio.”

“You have the
truth.”

Pressure on the
brush increased as she worked furiously. Thick, stiff bristles jabbed into his
skin
. Ouch!
Was the confounded woman going to scrub all the hide from
his feet? He cried out in pain and she flashed him a warning look. No, she
wasn’t going to give up. And her anger was growing fiercer by the moment.

He jerked his foot
back into the water as a matter of self-protection. “Damn it, El, you would
flog a dead horse.”

She flung the
brush to the floor, then stood and planted her hands firmly on her hips. “But I
am correct. There is trouble with this woman? Something you have not told me.”

“There should be
no trouble.”

“I do not need the
authorities nosing around! You know something, more than you are telling me! I
can see it in your eyes.”

Elena was working
herself into a panic. “I know as much as you do.” But he did
know
something he hadn’t shared. The girl was different. She spoke words he had
never heard, and was privy to information no woman could possibly know. There
was something else. Sonny
told him that the woman who had come to lead
The People
to freedom was not of this world. Perhaps not even from this
time. The Star Woman, his cousin named her.

He shook the idea
from his mind when Elena laid a distracting, yet comforting hand on his
shoulder.

“Do you think she
is a fugitive,
querido
?”

She was back to
being sweet again? Actually, it wasn’t impossible to believe the woman had fled
authorities. Perhaps that was why she refused to tell him her name. “You are
imagining things, Elena I am the only fugitive in this house.”

She arched a thin,
dark brow. “Or perhaps you are keeping secrets from me?”

“I have told you
everything. I am tired and have no time for talk.” At his words, Elena’s lips
pursed into a pout. A good time to change the subject. He gestured to an
unwrapped cake of lavender soap out of his reach. “Fetch that for me.”

With much ceremony
Elena leaned across and snatched the soap, then stood and dragged the stool
around the head of the tub.

“The soap?” He
held his palm upward, reminding her. She muttered a curse in Spanish and he
turned in time to catch her working the milled bar into a thick, fragrant
lather. Oh, no…she was
not
going to bathe him.

“I will do that,
Elena.”

She leaned forward
and began soaping his neck and shoulders from behind, working her gentle hands
over him quickly. “But is it not more enjoyable when I bathe you?” She purred
at his ear.

The seductress
.

Antonio closed his
eyes, savoring the touch of Elena’s soapy hands on his skin. He had not come to
her tonight for comfort, yet he had to admit it was good to have a woman’s
gentle attention. He leaned back and closed his eyes while her fingers moved
over his body expertly. She knew what he liked, what he needed. She always had.
Her warm breath tickled his ear as her palms slid sensuously down his shoulders
and upper arms, then circled back around. Her fingertips playfully grazed his
nipples and he jerked, biting back a groan.

“I am sorry I did
not believe you. I know you would tell me everything,” she whispered at his
ear.

Liar
. She
was telling him what she wanted him to believe as she seduced him by degrees.
Or thought so. Her palm smoothed downward to his navel and lingered. He swallowed
hard, his pulse pounding in out a deafening tempo in his ears, his cock
twitching in anticipation of her touch. He wanted it, yet he didn’t. But she
was torturing him to the edge of insanity.

Her hand slid
lower, promising him a few moments of sweet relief. Her fingertips brushed him
and he closed his eyes, waiting. But she abruptly sat back on the stool and
sighed disinterestedly before continuing to soap his shoulders and upper arms
again.

Teasing witch!

As she washed him,
thoughts of his planned meeting with Diablo intruded, as did his regret over
his decision to leave behind the wagon in the alley loaded with provisions.
Elena and her ladies had gone to much trouble to aid him in supplying
The
People
with food, but with troops fast approaching, he wasn’t certain
how much time remained. The wagon would only slow his travels, possibly by
several days. He would make better time on horseback with a smaller cache of
weapons. Food would have to wait.

He closed his
eyes, his thoughts straying to the red haired woman down the hallway. He hoped
she was resting comfortably, that Maeve and Molly were tending her properly. He
had instructed Elena to care for her until his return in a few weeks and
supposed that might be at the root of Elena’s jealousy. Or did she suspect his
attraction to the other woman?

Elena nibbled at
his ear lobe, drawing his thoughts back to the moment. She feathered a trail of
soft kisses on his wet skin, down the side of his neck and over his shoulder,
then across his upper back. It had been a year since he had been intimate with
a woman, even longer since he last visited Elena’s bed. She was trying her
damnedest to seduce him, not that it would take any great effort now. He was
rock hard. He shuddered when her lips touched the nape of his neck.

“You are an evil
witch.”

She laughed
softly, then rose and moved to the side of the tub. “Come to bed with me and
you will see how true those words are.” Her words slid across his heightened
senses like silk. She extended her hand when he did not move. “You are troubled
tonight,
mi amor
. Come. Let Elena ease your mind.”

Hesitating,
Antonio stepped from the tub. Elena drew a thick towel around his waist and
hips. She reached up on tiptoe and threw her arms around his neck, drawing his
mouth down to hers.

“It has been over
a year since I’ve taken a man to bed,” she murmured against his lips. Pressing
her pelvis against his, she began to softly rock against his erection. “Does
that please you?”

Her confession
didn’t please him as much as it surprised him. He found it difficult to believe
a woman with her voracious sexual appetite would remain celibate. Though knew
her to be selective about the men she entertained, abstinence was never her
strong suit. Still, he suspected pretty young Lola—the newest girl in the
parlor—had been keeping Elena company in his absence.

Lifting up on
tiptoe, she seized his face in her dainty hands and pressed her lips to his.
Her hot silky tongue thrust past his teeth, tangling and mating with his in an
erotic dance. She kissed him hard and deep as if she could not get enough, the
soft, low moans in her throat threatening to send him hurtling over the edge.

His cock strained
against the confines of the towel that separated them, aching for the quick
comfort her body could provide. But he did not want Elena.

He wanted the red
haired woman.

When he’d found
her injured and unconscious the day before, his only concern was for her care.
When they’d shared a brief kiss at the stream, he tamped down his desire. Now,
she was all he could think about.

Remembering the
woman he was with, he broke the kiss. “El, honey.” His breath rushed out. “I
have a meeting with Diablo in a short while.”

She clung to him,
panting. Her cheeks were flushed, her dark eyes misted with desire. Her mouth
curled into a slow, sensual smile. “I will not let you go unless you promise to
return to me once you have finished your business.”

He wasn’t certain
he could. Everything depended upon how his meeting fared.

“I cannot make
promises. You know I must leave Albuquerque
tonight.”

She released him
and he turned and padded unsteadily over to the bureau.

For years he kept
a change of clothes in one of her drawers, one that Elena added to over the
years. He pulled out a crisp, white shirt, gray woolen trousers, and a pair of
long men’s drawers. Those appeared new. He smiled. So Elena was still trying to
keep him civilized. He tucked the underwear back into the drawer, having no
need for them. And he preferred his soft buckskin breeches to itchy woolen
pants. A clean shirt however, was welcome.

Elena stole up
behind him, pressed her body against his back and he drew in a sharp breath at
the realization she was now completely nude. Her slender arms snaked around his
waist. She snuggled against him, her full warm breasts pressing against his
cool, damp skin. She felt so damned soft and he could not keep from reaching
around to caress her bare hip.

“I cannot bear to
let you go yet. Let me hold you I my arms, Antonio, if only for a while.”

Shivers skittered
up his spine at her plea. He heard the desperate need in her voice, a lonely,
aching need that mirrored his own at that moment, one that went far beyond mere
physical desire. He had known Elena since childhood, the housemaid’s daughter
at his grandfather’s ranch in California.
They’d been inseparable playmates once. She knew him as no one ever had—the
deepest longings of his heart, his darkest secrets of his soul. He knew all her
demons as well.