“Get down.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You gave him his run, Duchess, about three miles’ worth. Now give him a breather. Christ, don’t you know—”
“Don’t you dare tell me how to care for my horse!” she snapped, but immediately dismounted and started walking Sir George in a circle around Colt. “You can instruct me in anything else you please, but not about horses. I’ve bred and raised them all my life, and no one, no one, can tell me a thing about them that I don’t already know, and know better.”
Colt said nothing to that. The fact that she had a temper surprised him enough to cool down his own. He didn’t doubt that she knew horses. Anyone who rode as well as she had to be well acquainted with them. But to have bred and raised them? That wasn’t exactly a typical undertaking for a woman to pursue, at least not a white woman.
She really was proving to be other than what he had thought, in some things anyway. But he didn’t mind these particular surprises, for they managed to relieve his mind on one score. If it came down to a chase because she happened to be caught out alone, who the hell could catch her on that horse? And she undoubtedly knew that. He wondered why she hadn’t mentioned it when he came down on her so hard.
“Did you breed him?”
She had been stewing silently, and glanced up warily at that question. “Yes.”
He dismounted then and stepped in front of her so she would stop. The bay stallion drew back nervously, until Colt stretched his hand out and said something to the animal in a language Jocelyn had never heard before. She stared incredulously as Sir George pushed his nose into that outstretched hand and then shouldered Jocelyn aside to get closer to the man.
“That’s amazing!” she gasped. “He’s nervous enough around people he knows, but he never lets strangers get near him. You’ve already made his acquaintance, haven’t you?” she added suspiciously.
“No.”
“Then how did you—Good Lord! You have the touch, don’t you?”
“The touch?”
“The ability to make animals trust you. I have it too, but I’ve never seen it work quite so quickly before.”
It annoyed him that she had discovered a common ground between them when he needed to cling to their differences. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about, Duchess?”
“Oh, well, you took off this morning before anyone could ask you why you had started us out on the road we traveled yesterday, only to suddenly turn us east.”
“You were followed yesterday,” was all he said.
“We…how…well! They must not have been very close for no one else to notice, but of course you roamed farther afield—”
“There was only one man,” he cut in before she went off on another one of her talking sprees. “He bedded down about a mile back, and returned the way he’d come soon after you rejoined the road to Tucson.”
“So he’ll report we went that way, while we’ve turned in nearly the opposite direction,” she concluded with a laugh. “Oh, I knew you would prove invaluable to me, Thunder. I just hadn’t realized how much. Now, don’t look at me like that. What did I say?”
“I’m no guide, Duchess, and never professed to be one. Like that mountain lion, I’ve drifted a hell of a long way from my hunting grounds. I don’t even know when we’ll run into the next water hole. All I know is that beyond those mountains up ahead is New Mexico and the old Santa Fe Trail that’ll lead us to the plains. The plains I know. Between here and there…” he ended with a shrug.
“Good Lord, I thought…are you saying we could get lost?”
“Not lost, but for a while there’ll be no roads to make it easy, and I don’t guarantee the way between those mountains will be passable for your vehicles.”
“Then how did you get here from Wyoming? That is where you came from, isn’t it?”
“The way I came down, your coaches definitely couldn’t get through. But then I was following Billy down, and he didn’t know where the hell he was going.”
“You don’t appear very worried about it,” she pointed out.
“There’s always a way. What it comes down to is how much time’s wasted finding it. That’s Apache country up ahead. There’s bound to be well-worn trails.”
“And Apaches?”
“You were more likely to have run into them in Mexico. Most of them are settled on reservations, just like every other tribe in the country. The time for you to have worried about Indians, Duchess, was when you met me, not now.”
She turned away from the bitterness that had entered his voice and moved toward his horse. “Please don’t start that again,” she told him without looking at him, her attention centered on the big-boned animal that stood docilely while she ran her hand up its neck. “There is nothing you can do that will make me believe you are the uncivilized savage you keep trying to convince me you are.”
It was the wrong thing to do, to throw out a challenge like that and not expect him to accept it. But she wasn’t used to dealing with men like him. Before she had any warning at all, she was on the ground and he was on top of her, both horses had shied out of the way, and his hand was already yanking her skirt up.
“Nothing, Duchess?” he said in a cold, determined voice. “Let’s see how you feel about that after I’m done with you.”
She was so stunned she barely heard him, but she felt the sharp tug on her drawers that ripped them open, and then the hard thrust of a finger inside her. “Colt, no, I won’t let you—”
“You can’t stop me, woman. Hasn’t that sunk in yet? You made sure we were alone where the only protection you have is me. So who protects you from me?”
She shoved hard at his shoulders to dislodge him, but he was right, she couldn’t stop him. “You’re only doing this to frighten me!” And he was succeeding.
“You think it’s that many years since I left the life where I took whatever I wanted and killed for the right to do so? Do you know what would happen to you if I had found you then? This—and a helluva lot more. We not only raped white women, we made slaves of them.”
She was afraid he wasn’t just making a point this time, that he really was going to take her right there in the dirt, with the late afternoon sun broiling down on them. She didn’t want it to be like that, and the tears that came to her eyes said as much, but he didn’t see them.
It was instinct that made her wrap her arms around his neck as she pleaded, “Please don’t hurt me, Colt.”
He rolled off her instantly with a vicious curse. Again she was stunned. She hadn’t thought it would be that easy to make him stop, but the danger was definitely past. So he had just been trying to frighten her again!
“I ought to have you horsewhipped!” she seethed as she yanked her skirt down and scrambled to her feet. “You can’t keep doing this to me, Colt Thunder! I won’t allow it!”
He glanced over his shoulder at her from where he sat trying to get his overheated body back under control. “Another damn word out of you and you’ll find yourself flat on your back again!”
He might have practically snarled that at her, but she was too angry to take heed. “Is that so, you misbegotten son of a—a—an Indian!”
He watched her reach his horse, lift her skirt high, and mount it—in the normal way, which hiked her skirt up to her knees. He also watched her pull his rifle out of its scabbard, but still he didn’t get to his feet. He didn’t know what the hell she thought she was doing, but as long as she didn’t point the weapon at him…
“I don’t mean for you to become that big cat’s dinner, but I do hope you will have cooled off before you join us for ours.”
With that she fired off two shots that hit the dust at the lion’s feet and sent it racing off into the distance. The noise also scattered a half-dozen nearby jackrabbits, grouse, and even a wild turkey that had previously gone unnoticed. Three more shots in quick succession ended the flight of two of the rabbits and the turkey.
Colt was still staring at
the third dead animal when her voice cut through his amazement. “It’s only when the danger is camouflaged by its surroundings that it proves a danger, Mr. Thunder. You might want to gather those up before we reach you. Our cook, Philippe, will appreciate it.”
He didn’t understand half of those last comments of hers until she took off, which she did with a flurry of scattered dust, and then let loose the shrill whistle that brought up the bay stallion’s head and had him galloping after her. But Colt didn’t get up even then. He was still incredulous over her marksmanship, which damn near equaled his own—another skill he would never have suspected she might possess—so he wasn’t quite dealing yet with her audacity in leaving him stranded.
At least she thought that was what she’d done. He could have called his horse back to him just as easily as she had summoned hers to follow her. But that would have put her within arm’s reach of him again, and it had already been proved with a vengeance that he couldn’t keep his hands off her when she was that close. Christ, he jumped on any excuse to touch her, even if it was only to frighten her so she wouldn’t get close enough again for him to find even more excuses.
When it did finally sink in that he was still sitting there with three dead animals nearby, almost guaranteed to attract buzzards soon, he let out a stream of curses that would have burned that vindictive redhead’s ears. He did need time to cool off, bodywise, and with the caravan still a good mile and a half away, there was little doubt that he would. His temper, on the other hand, was already on the rise again.
Chapter Seventeen
“What are you going to do when the man starts to thrash you?”
Jocelyn waved a hand meant to dismiss that notion. “Don’t be silly, Vana. He wouldn’t dare.” But she stopped in her pacing about the tent, and even she recognized the uncertainty in her voice. “Would he?”
“Don’t look at me, my dear. You’re the one who keeps playing with fire. I haven’t even spoken to the chap yet. But isn’t that something you should have considered before you stole his horse?”
“I didn’t steal it, I just borrowed it. But he would have deserved it if I had.”
She had caused quite a stir returning astride the big Appaloosa, but one look at her sour expression and no one had commented on it, not even Colt’s brother, at least not to her. But that was several hours ago.
The cavalcade had passed the point where she had left Colt, but there had been no sign of him. They had also set up camp for another night and there was still no sign of him. Likely her people were beginning to wonder if she hadn’t gotten rid of him in a permanent way. After all, they would have heard those shots she had fired. She was beginning to worry herself. There were the snakes he had mentioned, and that blasted mountain lion was still out there somewhere. Of course she hadn’t left him weaponless. He did still have his revolver. He no doubt just wanted her to worry about him.
“I rather like this carpeting, but it isn’t going to last much longer if you keep that up,” Vanessa said in her driest tone. “Why don’t you come and have a sherry before dinner?”
“I’m sorry,” Jocelyn said, but she didn’t quit her pacing. “I know I haven’t been very good company for you these past few days.”
“You must be joking,” Vanessa snorted. “Your little clashes with Mr. Thunder have been quite the best entertainment to happen among us since our two strapping footmen tried to kill each other over Babette. You haven’t said what happened today, but when you leave in an impeccable condition and return quite the opposite, it isn’t that hard to guess. I really can’t wait to see what happens next.”
For that the countess received a dark glower, but it almost instantly turned into a closed-eyed cringe, for they could both hear the commotion that started up just outside the tent. Mr. Thunder had arrived.
“Now see here, mate,” one of the guards said in annoyance. “You can’t go in there without an invite.”
The only answer was the sound of flesh meeting flesh, likely in the form of knuckles to face. Then another guard’s voice was heard, and there was some further scuffling, and two more solid punches.
“You’d better get your derringer, my dear, until he calms down enough to see reason.”
But Jocelyn didn’t move at Vanessa’s prompting, and there really wasn’t time. It was ironic that neither of them thought the guards might win the tussle, and they were both right. The tent flap whipped open as Colt came through it without breaking stride, an angry stride that brought him straight to Jocelyn. She braced herself, but still she didn’t move an inch. Perhaps that was what made him keep his hands from her when he reached her. He did no more than throw his hat down on the ground between them—and shout.
“I ought to…don’t you ever…”
He didn’t finish either thought. Her apparent calm in the face of his fury defeated him. And it was fascinating, watching him fight to regain control of his emotions. He stood there with his eyes closed and she could almost feel the turbulence inside him, the heat and power of it radiating so close to the surface, yet she could no longer see it.
Jocelyn had the feeling that losing control of any kind was alien to him, that he was a man who prided himself on being able to mask feelings of both body and mind, to never give a clue to the inner turmoil he might be experiencing. She had witnessed just such control before. But then, she had also been shouted at before by him.
Was that a good sign, she wondered, that the man seemed to lose his calm only when he was around her? Or was it just the situation he found himself in that he couldn’t handle? She wished she knew which it was, but she concluded she’d prodded him enough for one day. Vanessa was right as usual. She had no business playing with fire before first learning the consequences.
Before he opened his eyes the tent was invaded again, by six more guards. “They’re late,” Colt said quietly to Jocelyn while Vanessa quickly assured the men there was no further need for alarm. “It’s too damn easy to get to you, woman.”
“Not really,” she said just as quietly. “The only reason you got as far as you did is because you’re known to them. If a stranger had tried the same thing, he would have been shot instead of merely warned off. Did you do much damage out there?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She smiled before turning toward her men and adding her assurances to Vanessa’s that it was all a misunderstanding. She even took full blame for it, though she did not go into detail, merely admitting that she had provoked Colt unreasonably. The fact that everyone there knew she had returned with Colt’s horse, minus Colt, made his upset understandable as well as forgivable. He didn’t have to utter a word in his defense, not that he would have.
Sir Parker was the only one reluctant to leave with Colt still there, but as Colt was now calmness itself, and both women insisting there would be no further trouble, he had little choice in the matter. As soon as the last guard departed, though, it was rather disconcerting to hear Colt’s comment, quiet, but quite serious.
“I tried walking it off, then running it off, but neither worked one little bit. Nothing short of wringing your neck was going to work.”
Vanessa, appalled upon hearing this, opened her mouth to call back the guard, but Jocelyn forestalled her. “Well, my neck appreciates that you came to your senses. Perhaps I do owe you an apology—”
“Damned right.” Even that was somehow said in a moderate tone.
“—but you owe me one as well, so why don’t we call it even this time?”
He didn’t acknowledge her suggestion by word or nod, and Jocelyn grew uncomfortable under his piercing stare. Those eyes of his really were lethal in what they could make her feel, and staring back at him only made it worse. In those blue depths she saw intimate knowledge of her body. His hardness had covered her only hours ago. His hand had seared the flesh on her legs when he had yanked her skirt out of his way. Her knees went weak now as she recalled that he had put his finger inside her. And she had the feeling he was
remembering the same thing when he looked at her like that. She prayed not.
She turned away, caught Vanessa’s wary look, and almost burst into relieved laughter. It was one thing for Vanessa to make all her snide comments and warnings based on speculation, but now that she was seeing the man for herself and how he could be, she likely didn’t know what to think. He certainly wasn’t easy to read, especially when he was like this. The fury was probably still there, but buried so deep now that it was harmless—at least for the moment.
“The countess reminded me earlier that I have been remiss in the way of introductions. Colt Thunder, allow me to present my dearest friend and companion, Vanessa Britten.”
“Ma’am,” Colt said with a nod.
Vanessa was obviously encouraged, enough to say, “Delighted, Mr. Thunder.”
“Oh, he doesn’t like to be called mister, Vana. He answers to either name.”
“Without preference? How odd.”
“But it’s rather nice, the informality, isn’t it? It makes you feel you know a person better than you do.”
“If you’ll excuse me, ladies.”
He said it even as he headed for the exit, prompting Jocelyn to step in front of him. “But you can’t leave yet. You must stay and have dinner with us.”
“Must?”
She lowered her eyes before correcting herself. “Will you please join us?”
“I don’t—”
“At least stay and have a drink,” she persisted. “You must be…” Wrong thing to mention, his likely thirst. “We have sherry…no, you wouldn’t like that. Vana, why don’t you see what Jane can find in the supply wagon in the way of more potent spirits?”
“Haven’t you learned yet that it isn’t safe to be alone with me?”
Jocelyn swung around to see that Vanessa had left them without answering, the tent flap still fluttering. They were indeed alone—for the moment.
“She’ll be right back, and…” She peeked a glance at him. Good Lord, those eyes again. They sent shivers of excitement racing along her skin even when they were so inscrutable. “And haven’t you learned yet that I’m not so easily intimidated?”