Texas Wildcat (12 page)

Kelly rode directly toward the blowout. She had lost track of time, knowing only that her five pursuers were slowly gaining on her now. It was a silent, deadly battle and she clung to the saddle, her legs rubbed raw because she had lost the rhythm of the mare beneath her. Blackness started to edge Kelly’s vision and she screamed. The mare increased her pace momentarily, startled. Anything to stay conscious! The heat was eating her alive. She felt faint, as if she were in an overheated oven that was ready to explode. Her mouth and throat were parched. Her eyeballs felt baked. Follow the flame, she shouted to herself. The flame! Have to get to Sam. Oh Sam, I love you! I love you! God, give me a chance to tell you that. Just let me get back! And the litany continued for another hour while she stubbornly held on to the mare. The exhausted animal had slowed now to a trot.

One long, curving sand dune loomed above them. The blowout didn’t seem any closer. Kelly called to the mare, digging her heels weakly into the horse’s heaving, foam-flecked flanks. Her five pursuers were inexorably closing the distance. It was only a matter of time…. The mare snorted and tensed her hindquarters. Sand flew in all directions beneath her hooves. Finally, with one more lunge, they crested the long, graceful sand dune.

Kelly fell forward, her hands slippery against the mare’s wet mane. She barely caught herself. She drew on her last ounce of courage to hang on and fight back. Through sheer force of will, Kelly made herself sit upright as she rode the mare across the top of the dune. Her vision grayed as she looked toward the blowout. Wavering curtains of heat distorted everything. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Did she see a cloud of dust coming in her direction? Was it a white flatbed? A croaking sob tore from her throat. She had no strength left to turn and see how close her pursuers were. No strength….

Dropping forward on the mare’s neck, Kelly gripped the mane, barely able to hold on to the trotting horse. She heard the snort of horses closing in from behind her. They would soon be abreast of her…they would capture her. She had no tears left to cry. Sam! Oh, Sam, I love you. I did from the moment we met! Oh, God, we’ll never know…I’m falling…falling…I love you so much! Can’t hang on…can’t…

Sam watched in horror as Kelly pitched over the head of the horse she was riding. No more than two hundred yards behind was the contingent of Bedouin horsemen in hot pursuit. Their rifles were raised as they spurred their mounts up toward where Kelly lay prostrate.

“Hurry!” he yelled at Coots. Hot, blistering wind hit Sam’s face as he aimed the pistol out the window. There was no way they would take Kelly again! He squeezed the trigger. The shot cracked through the sweltering heat.

“They ain’t gonna stop! Coots yelled, pressing the accelerator to the floor. The truck bucked and lurched, its heavily treaded tires digging into the sand.

Sam’s face was frozen in concentration. Sweat ran down his temples; his face glistened. His mouth compressed into a single line of fury. His eyes narrowed with angry intensity as he lowered the barrel of the pistol. His first shot had been a warning. This time…

Sam fired a second time. The leader on a bay horse had just crested the hill. The shot caught the horse in the chest. The animal screamed, knees buckling, and pitched off the rider.

They were closing in on Kelly! Just a few hundred more feet! Sam fired another shot above the Bedouins. He watched as the horseless rider scrambled to his feet. Another rider rode forward, hand outstretched to pull the first up behind him. The five Bedouins milled about in momentary confusion.

Coots slammed on the brakes and the truck sloughed to a stop. Sam leaped out of the truck with the pistol held in a threatening position. Coots grabbed another pistol and came around the front of the truck. Sam’s heart thudded heavily in his chest as he gripped the pistol with both hands and lowered it at the Bedouins.

“Don’t try it!” he shouted, focusing on the leader.

The armed Bedouins exchanged glances and then quickly turned and sped back down the large sand dune. Coots glared at them briefly before running the last few yards to where Kelly lay unmoving.

* * *

A small whimper issued from Kelly’s throat. Coolness was spreading down her brow, across her cheeks to her parched, cracked lips. Water! Droplets were dribbled between her lips and she moaned as the water reached her raw, parched throat. Sounds, very far away, penetrated her semiconscious state.

“You’re safe, honey. It’s Sam. Just rest. Don’t fight me. You’re with me. We’re going home…”

Sam’s words rang like joyful music in her head. She must be dreaming! She had to be. Her body felt as if it were on fire. Slowly, like mismatched jigsaw puzzle pieces, the events of the past day and night came back to her. Kelly barely had the strength to lift her lashes. It was impossible. She was aware of men’s voices, the growl of a truck engine laboring at high speed and jostling motion. Arms…strong arms were holding her. And a cool cloth was being held against her hot, burning flesh. She was dreaming. It was all a wishful dream. Her brows pulled downward and a weak cry rose in her throat. The sheik had recaptured her!

Sam grimly caught her flailing arms, holding Kelly tightly against his chest. She struggled only briefly in her semiconscious state. A soft mewing sound came from her and it tore his heart in pieces. Coots exchanged a worried look with him, saying nothing. He was driving the flatbed for all it was worth. The hot wind tore through the opened windows, sending Kelly’s red hair into soft disarray. Sam’s blue eyes were hard and shiny with tears as he held her tightly. Her skin was feverishly hot. She was burning up. He had worked on too many desert blowouts not to recognize that Kelly had suffered a sunstroke. And it could kill her if they couldn’t get her body cooled down in time.

“Hurry,” he growled to Coots.

Eight

K
elly awakened to the sounds of her own sobs. A warm, callused hand gently brushed the tears from her cheek and Kelly fought to become conscious.

“It’s all right, honey,” Sam soothed in a reassuring tone. He had been sitting or sleeping in the chair at Kelly’s bedside for the last forty-eight hours. He glanced across the room at the doctor and nurse who had come in at his request.

Kelly moaned, reliving the horror of the kidnapping, fighting the last effects of the powerful tranquilizing drug that the Bedouins had given her.

“Sam…” she moaned.

“Right here, Kelly. It’s all right. You’re safe.”

“Oh, Sam.” With that she lapsed back into an unintelligible garble.

He took a damp, cool cloth and gently dabbed her brow and cheeks. Anxiously, he watched as the doctor took her pulse and blood pressure. For the last two days Kelly’s life had hung in the balance. He had first thought she had only suffered a serious sunstroke.

Instead, it was discovered in the emergency room that Kelly was also having an adverse drug reaction coupled with a drug overdose. Sam wearily rubbed his face with his free hand, as if to force back the deluge of emotions that threatened to break. He loved Kelly. That simple realization had torn his very soul apart as he watched the doctors fight for her life. And after forty-eight hours of being in a coma, she was finally regaining consciousness.

Sam continued to stroke her brow. He had found that she was more tranquil if he continued to talk to her and touch her during that hazy state between consciousness and unconsciousness. He shot a keen look at the doctor. “What’s happening?”

“She’s coming out of the coma, Mr. Tyler.” He allowed a brief smile. “She’s going to make it. Remain with her if you want. The nurse will call me when she becomes more coherent.”

The relief on Sam’s face was obvious. He gazed down at Kelly, the hotness of tears stinging his burning eyes. His hand trembled slightly as he brushed it over her forehead.

“Thank God,” he whispered unsteadily. He looked up at the doctor. “Thanks for pulling her through….” He couldn’t finish. Tears choked off the rest of his reply.

“Only give us half the credit, Mr. Tyler. It was her will to live that tipped the balance in our favor. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

Sam watched as they left and then returned his full attention to Kelly. Her raving was becoming intelligible; the delirium was receding.

“I love you, Kelly Blanchard,” he whispered thickly. Reaching over, he took her hand to reassure her as she broke through the last confines of the drugs.

* * *

Kelly stared in the mirror that the nurse had handed her. She carefully touched her face, which was still pink from sunburn. Had it only been a week since Sam and Coots had rescued her from Hassad’s camp? Her heart beat more quickly when she recalled becoming conscious in Sam’s arms on the way to the hospital. He had told her that they’d driven like madmen to the helicopter stationed at the blowout and then had flown the rest of the way to Abu Dhabi. And it had been Sam who was holding her hand when she finally awoke from the terrifying experience two days after that.

Kelly’s eyes darkened. She would never forget Sam’s face that evening. His eyes were red-rimmed and the growth of his beard made his features appear gaunt and shadowed. He had been crying. Somewhere in her half dream, half nightmare state, she had heard him calling her back, calling her to his side. Kelly lowered her lashes. Had she imagined him saying that he loved her? In a pensive gesture, she drew a brush the nurse had brought through her freshly washed hair. The reddish-gold strands were finally clean of sand and grit. She never forgot his parting kiss on her chapped, cracked lips, either. He had explained that he had to get back to the blowout. That in a week he would come and visit her again. Kelly closed her eyes, remembering her reaction. She had begun to cry. Great, tearing sobs. He had gathered her up in his arms with great tenderness, rocking her back and forth. His voice was a healing balm for her injured soul and gradually, she had stopped weeping. Had she really babbled deliriously that she loved him? Sighing, Kelly had no idea whether she had imagined it all or not. Apparently the drug that Hassad’s men had used on her had had severe side effects. She was lucky to be alive.

“Mrs. Tyler?” the nurse called softly from the door.

Kelly lifted her chin. Mrs. Tyler? Perplexity showed in her eyes. “Yes?”

“Your husband’s here. The doctor says you can have one visitor tonight for fifteen minutes only.”

She opened her mouth and then shut it. Husband? Sam, her husband? What was going on? She moistened her healing lips, eager and yet frightened to see Sam. Her heartbeat rose with joy as he walked in and she met his intense cobalt gaze. Had it been five days since she had last seen him? Oh, God, he looked so handsome…so vital and alive! “Sam?” her voice quavered.

He wore the same white coveralls, although they were clean this time. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and it appeared he had lost some weight. But an easy smile tugged at his mouth when he saw her. As he approached her bed, he held out a small bouquet of violets. “Here, these are for you.”

Shyly, Kelly reached out, her fingers making contact with his hand. “Thank you,” she whispered, unable to meet his burning gaze.

Sam drew up a chair and sat down. “You look better, Kelly.”

“The flowers, Sam…they’re beautiful. Where…how did you get them?”

A faint smile crossed his exhausted features. “They have a few florist shops here in Abu Dhabi, you know. Just because we’re in a desert, that doesn’t mean nothing grows.” He squeezed her hand gently. “How are you feeling?”

She gave a slight shrug. “Would it sound bold if I said I was missing you?”

“No,” he answered slowly. “In fact, I’ve missed you too, my redhaired witch.” He cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. The silence lengthened between them as he studied her thin features. “I damn near lost you, Kelly,” he said huskily. “The evening we flew you in here, they said you didn’t stand a chance. No one gave you any hope except Coots and I.” He became more sober. “I’ve never prayed so hard in my life, Kelly.” He allowed his hand to drop from her chin. “In fact, I never prayed much before seven days ago,” he admitted.

Tears surged to her eyes. “Oh, Sam,” she cried.

He got to his feet, bent over and held her for a long, long moment. Kelly’s tears flowed down her cheeks and she lifted her face, longing to feel the warmth of his body against her own. “Hold me,” she whispered. “Just hold me, Sam.”

“Forever, if you want,” he said huskily next to her ear. His voice had cracked and tears flowed down his cheeks, soaking into her beautiful copper-colored hair. He stroked her silken hair, shutting his eyes tightly, resting his head against her. For long moments he gently massaged her back and shoulders in a movement meant to relax her. For this moment she was a part of him no matter what the future might hold.

Finally, Kelly raised her head. A smile touched her wet lips as she reached up, drying his tears with the palm of her hand. “I…I’ve never seen a man cry before, Sam,” she noted, her voice thick, raspy. It left her shaken, touched beyond words. A strange, fluttering sensation pulsed in her heart as she realized that Sam’s tears were a sign of true strength and not a weakness. He was secure enough in his masculinity to entrust his gentle side to her. The revelation humbled Kelly as nothing else had in her life.

Sam pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her so she could dry her flushed cheeks. “Some things in life are worth crying over, honey,” he returned gently. “Like you, for instance.”

She lowered her lashes, and when she raised them there was a glint of laughter in her eyes. “What’s this about my being Mrs. Tyler?”

Sam’s grin matched her own. “Why? Don’t you like the sound of it? Kelly Tyler has a more adventurous ring to it than Kelly Blanchard.”

She knotted the handkerchief between her slender fingers, unable to speak. The idea of being his wife created a warm glow in her heart. “Don’t tell me I said, ‘I do’ when I was dying. I know! Someone gave me the last rites and you decided to marry me for my millions, right?” she teased.

He became sober. “You’re close,” he murmured. “The father was here and he did give you the last rites, Kelly.”