Savage Desire

by Rosemary Rogers

  She glanced at him sharply. “You just said he’ll be all right!”

  “Yeah.” Paco grimaced. “I know. Sometimes I let my mouth get ahead of me.”

  “Should we follow him?”

  “I had the same thought. We’ll wait like he said, but closer.”

  They made their way to the humped top of the ridge, keeping their heads down. Ginny’s heart pounded furiously. Her mouth was dry and her hands were shaking so violently she knew she would never be able to fire the pistol she wore on her hip like a gunslinger. Belly down, they stretched out to peer down into the arroyo.

  Sun-bleached ruins lifted white walls to the sky. An ancient people had built this structure, most of it having long ago tumbled to the ground, but there were still rock walls tucked beneath the overhang of a huge cliff. Clumps of cottonwood trees shaded a small seep, water trickling over rock.

  Evidence of habitation was everywhere. Faded blankets hung over gaping windows, and the smoke of a fire curled up from inside one of the buildings. Two men stood guard, their rifles held at the ready.

  Steve crossed the arroyo in long, loose strides, casting a short shadow with the sun overhead. Relentless heat shimmered around him, rose in blurred waves from the parched earth. Ginny held her breath as he drew near the guards.

  Clearly they had not expected him to walk in so boldly. They glanced uncertainly at each other. They had the flat, broad faces of mestizos, Mexicans with Indian blood.

  There was no sign of the children, or of William Brandon. It was eerily quiet.

  Beside her, light glinted off Paco’s drawn pistol, the blue-gray of his .45 a deadly gleam. She drew her weapon as well, rather clumsily, her hand shaking as she propped it atop gritty rock, holding the butt with both hands.

  “Is that how he taught you to hold a gun?” Paco asked softly, amusement evident in his tone.

  Ginny shook her head. “No. But it’s how I’m holding it today.”

  Below, Steve was speaking with the guards, and after a moment, they stepped aside. What on earth had he said to convince them to allow him to enter?

  Paco was frowning. “They didn’t take his guns. I don’t like this.”

  “Maybe they know he won’t start shooting recklessly with the children nearby.”

  “Or maybe—”

  A sound behind them made the hair stand up on the back of Ginny’s neck, and she heard the unmistakable click of a cartridge being pumped into a rifle chamber.

  Paco swore under his breath as a voice said, “Please be so good as to lay down your weapons, amigos.”

  45

  The sun had begun to slide downward, a great orange ball of fire blazing a vivid trail of yellow and rose above the rocky walls of the arroyo. It was cooler now, the shadows long and deep, reaching into the ruins.

  Ginny hugged her children fiercely to her, shushing their frightened sobs with tender firmness as they huddled in a corner under the watchful eye of an armed guard. Tante Celine looked dreadful, her hair more untidy than Ginny had ever seen it, her garments rent in places and caked with dust. But her spine was rigid, her eyes blazing with contemptuous outrage.

  “They are animals,” she said in French to her niece, and only a slight quiver betrayed her strain. “But they have not harmed us, though they did drag us across miles of desert. It is him I worry about. He looks ill.”

  A nod of her head indicated the man lying on a rough cot nearby. Ginny’s gaze shifted. William Brandon lay listlessly under a tattered blanket. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes sunken, and he responded weakly when spoken to by anyone.

  “Virginia…” His voice was a grating whisper that she had to strain to hear. “I’m sorry. My fault.”

  Moved to pity despite their circumstances, she nodded. “Yes, but save your strength. Don’t try to talk.”

  A short, swarthy man Steve had called Delgado returned to the stuffy chamber, grinning at them as he surveyed the two men bound tightly with rope and held beneath the warning rifles of the guards.

  “You do not seem so cocky now, Morgan,” he said. “Have you lost your courage?”

  Steve shrugged. His eyes were dark blue, ruthless in a face that had been battered by heavy fists.

  “It’s easy to taunt a man who’s tied up, Delgado. Cut me free and ask me that question.”

  “Ah, no, that would be foolish.” Delgado moved to the small wooden table against the far wall and poured dark wine into a cup, then turned to gaze at them, satisfaction glittering in his dark eyes. “This has turned out much more pleasing than I had thought. You have been of great help, Morgan.”

  “Glad I could oblige,” Steve drawled. “What do you hope to gain by this? You can’t keep a United States senator captive forever. Every soldier in Texas will be out looking for you.”

  “But I am not in Texas. I am in Mexico. Even your famous Rangers cannot follow me here.” Delgado looked quite pleased with himself, his smile smug. “It was a great stroke of fortune that delivered the bait to lure you. I had not thought of using your children.”

  Steve’s gaze shifted to the senator, a flick of his eyes that made the Mexican grin.

  “Yes, he saved me much trouble. I am grateful to him for his thorough attention to details.”

  “Morgan…” The rasping voice dragged Steve’s gaze to the cot as Brandon struggled to sit up. “Not the way I planned. Would not harm them.”

  “Shut up, old man,” Delgado barked. “You are useless to me now that I have what I want. Do not tread too harshly or I will rid myself of your presence.”

  Steve stretched out his legs, hooked one foot lazily over his other ankle and leaned his head back against the wall.

  “I think I’m getting the picture here. It wasn’t the senator who planned this. It was you.”

  “Of course it was me. After you killed Luna, I had to think of some way to keep the senator interested in mining for silver. He thinks only of railroads, of laying tracks into Mexico to take out copper and silver instead of where the true profit lies. Mules are more efficient, prisoners productive in getting the silver out without Díaz knowing how much is produced. Not even the senator knows just how much ore the Galena has yielded. I am a very wealthy man, Morgan. I will not allow the stupidity of one greedy gringo to ruin it all for me.”

  “So you used the senator just like you used Rafael Luna and his desire for vengeance.”

  “It was much easier. I had no way of funding the mine. Once I had Brandon interested in financing the production, it was easy enough to manage. Luna was quite clever, but he allowed his lust for a woman to cloud his judgment. If you had not rid me of him, I would have had to do it myself.”

  “And now? You have us all here.”

  “Yes.” Delgado rose from the chair, tilting back his head to toss down the last of the wine. “You are dangerous to me. You know too much, and you have an annoying habit of destroying my plans.”

  “Let the children go. Killing them won’t solve anything.”

  “It is unfortunate that they must die, but children die every day. By the time your bodies are discovered out here, you will be old bones. Ramirez!” An armed guard nodded when Delgado said, “Take them out and kill them, then cover the bodies with rock.”

  Ginny’s breath caught painfully. Desperate, she hugged Laura and Franco to her, her eyes seeking Steve’s in the hope that he could avert disaster. But he was being dragged to his feet with Paco, both of them shoved toward the door covered with a ragged blanket.

  Tante Celine moaned softly as the guards motioned for them to rise, and Ginny remembered the knife she still kept strapped to her thigh.

  As the children began to cry, she hushed them, her hands trembling as she stroked their small heads. “It will be all right, little ones,” she comforted them in French. “Listen to me and do whatever I tell you.”

  Senator Brandon was hauled from the cot, staggering as he was guided toward the door. The blanket lifted briefly when Steve and Paco emerged, allowing in a shaft of fad
ing light. Then, suddenly, Steve was lunging forward, his arms somehow free of restraint, a gun filling his hand as he tuned, aimed and fired.

  Delgado swore harshly, then gave a grunt of surprise as a bullet punched a neat hole in the middle of his forehead. Eyes wide, he pitched forward soundlessly.

  Ginny jerked as a volley of gunfire filled the arroyo. She heard men shouting and a bugle blare. The colonel had kept his word!

  Senator Brandon stumbled, threw his weight into the man nearest him with a piercing howl that Ginny had never heard before. It sounded like a battle cry: it was the perfect distraction.

  Moving swiftly, she drew the sharp little knife from beneath her skirt before their guards could react and plunged it into the man nearest her, the blade piercing his heart so swiftly that he dropped like a stone, an expression of shock on his face.

  Wrenching it free, Ginny hissed in French to her aunt and the children that they must run and hide. She turned to the other guard and saw in his eyes a flare of rage and fear as her arm lifted. A bark of muzzle fire erupted, smelling of sulphur and heat, an orange spurt close to her face. A sharp pain seared into her shoulder, but her forward momentum drove the knife into the man before he could retreat.

  All around her was pandemonium, the sound of gunfire and men shouting washing over her in a blur. Ginny was vaguely aware of a woman screaming when she collapsed atop the guard, her fist still clutching the dagger’s handle, the blade imbedded in his throat. The gagging sounds faded and the wash of damp heat over her hand slowed as she surrendered to the encroaching darkness, her last thoughts of Steve and the children.

  46

  Pain. Intense pain radiated through her body. Ginny slowly opened her eyes, blinking as faces swam into view, then faded. She closed her eyes again, but heard the relief in Steve’s voice when he said, “She’s coming out of it.”

  Then all was dark again, devoid of even dreams.

  It took several days for Ginny to stay awake long enough to hear what had happened after she’d collapsed. It was Tante Celine who told her, smoothing back the damp hair from Ginny’s forehead as she spoke soothingly.

  “The children are safe, ma petite. Do not fret. All is well.”

  “Where…where am I?” Ginny licked dry lips with the tip of her tongue, grateful for the small amount of cool water Tante offered her.

  “Laredo. As soon as you are able to travel, you will be going home.”

  “Steve? Is he—?”

  “Most impatient to visit with you. He has hardly left your side this past week.”

  A week! Had she been asleep that long?

  Tante Celine smiled. “The doctor gave you something to make you sleep as the pain was so great after he removed the bullet.”

  Ginny’s hand reached out, curled around her aunt’s arm with surprising strength. “The senator?”

  “Better now, though he nearly died from the wound he suffered when attacking the guard. Foolish man. But a brave one, n’est pas?”

  “Yes.” Ginny managed a smile. “Very brave.”

  “And it seems that the bullet already in his back was somehow moved by the new bullet. The surgeon was able to remove them both. Perhaps now he can walk without pain.”

  After a moment, Ginny said softly, “I’m glad. It’s a comfort to know that he did not mean to harm the children.”

  “No, though he is not blameless. He did misrepresent himself by sending the cable. He claims he meant only to provide a distraction so your husband would focus on them instead of what he was doing with the railroads and mines. Bah! The arrogant greed of men never ceases to amaze me.”

  “I’m glad you were with the children,” Ginny murmured, and Tante sighed softly.

  “Yes. Though I cannot like this savage country, I will stay as long as you need me, ma petite. But I must return to France in time for Pierre’s wedding.”

  “Wedding? Don’t tell me—Lorna Prendergast.”

  “Yes. They are very much in love. Perhaps soon I shall have grandchildren to hold close to my heart, though they will never replace Laura and Franco.”

  Closing her eyes, Ginny surrendered to her body’s demand for sleep again. When she woke, Tante Celine was gone and Steve sat in a straight-backed chair beside her bed.

  He looked gaunt, a dark beard stubble shadowing his cheeks, but a smile deepened the grooves on each side of his mouth. “Awake at last, lazy one?”

  “Steve—” She reached out and he clasped her hand in his, warm and strong, his fingers pressing into her palms. “Steve, I want to go home.”

  “Yes, my love. We’re going home as soon as you’re able to travel. Just concentrate on getting well.”

  With a soft sigh of satisfaction, Ginny drew his hand to her face, lay her cheek in his broad palm. “I love you, Steve Morgan.”

  With his other hand, he pushed the hair tenderly back from her face. “And I love you, my heart. Mi alma. Mi corazόn.”

  “You won’t leave me again?”

  “No, Ginny. Not again. We’re going home to Hacienda de la Nostalgia. I’ve decided to raise cattle and children.”

  Her gaze lifted, and she saw in Steve’s eyes the love she had always yearned for, complete and encompassing, a love only for her, for all of time.

  At last.

  THE PROMISE

  Epilogue

  Zacatecas, September 1877

  A cool breeze blew down from the mountains above Don Francisco’s hacienda. It shivered leaves on the towering oaks shading the sprawling house, cast dappled shadows over the adobe walls and filtered into open windows to bring the promise of autumn on brisk currents.

  Ginny stood at an open window overlooking the courtyard. Her green eyes focused on Laura and Franco, who were happy now, the memories of their recent nightmare slowly fading. They played with a puppy, though Laura still waited impatiently for the arrival of her own spaniel. The dog had been left in Galveston with most of their baggage, but was now en route to them.

  While Ginny stood watching the children, unable to get enough of the sight of them, a warm presence behind her drew close and put a hand upon her shoulder, its voice a husky murmur against her ear.

  “I feel the same way.”

  She half-turned, smiling up at Steve. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

  “It’s obvious. God, when I think of what might have happened—” He broke off, his tone grim.

  “But it didn’t. We found them. Despite all of the odds against us, we found them. You found them. How did you know where they would be?”

  “I didn’t. It was a calculated guess based on my suspicion of the senator. Seems I was wrong about how involved he was. But he is to blame for endangering them. He brought them here. Delgado just took advantage of it.”

  “I think I believe the senator when he says that he would never have harmed them, that he only wanted them to distract you so you’d stop your determined pursuit of his business plans. He knew you were trying to ruin him, Steve.”

  “I did ruin him. Those plans, anyway. It’s unlikely he would have been able to build a railroad through Copper Canyon any time soon, but I was damned if I was going to let him extract money from backers to try. I’m familiar with how that works, how prices are jacked up too high and the men who started the scheme get rich while those more honest get swindled out of their money.”

  Leaning against Steve, Ginny put a hand on his chest. He wore a light leather vest over a dark blue shirt, snug-fitting trousers and familiar boots. In deference to his grandfather’s wishes, he’d removed his gunbelts.

  “I’m glad he’s gone back to Louisiana,” she murmured, thinking of her father and how old and sick he had seemed. “I feel as if I never really knew him. When I was a child, I used to dream about him. When I finally joined him, I was so proud of him. He seemed to be everything wonderful—a rich, powerful man greatly respected by his peers.”

  “Maybe he started out that way.” Steve’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “He just got too confid
ent, then too greedy.”

  Turning, she pressed closer to Steve, and gazed up into his face for a long moment. Long lashes briefly obscured his eyes before he slid her a sidelong glance, his lips crooking into the slanted smile that never failed to make her heart beat faster.

  “What’s on your mind, green-eyes?”

  “You. Us. The future. Are you sure you still want to marry me?”

  “For the third time? I’ve heard the third time is the charm.”

  His teasing made her smile. “It better be. Our children expect it.”

  His lean fingers tangled in her loose hair, gently drawing her head back so that he could see full into her eyes. “I expect it. So does my grandfather. And Señora Armijo will be quite irritated if we don’t show up at our wedding. She’s organized a grand fiesta, with twenty tables of food, and even had ice brought down from the mountains. I’m not brave enough to ruin her plans.”

  “Is that the only reason you’ll be there this evening?”

  He grinned. “Oh, I can think of another reason or two.”

  “Then share them with me. Just so I can decide if I want to stand in front of the priest with you.”

  Dragging his hand over the arch of her throat, Steve’s smile vanished to be replaced by an intent expression, his eyes a very dark blue as he held her gaze.

  “I love you, Ginny. There’s never been another woman I’ve really loved. There never will be. You’re all I want. And this time, our wedding vows are forever.”

  Her breath caught at the intensity in his tone and his eyes. For a moment, she could not speak. Then she said, softly, “We’ve never had a honeymoon, Steve.”

  “We will this time, my dearest. I’ve made arrangements for Laura and Franco to be escorted to the Hacienda de la Nostalgia. They’ll be waiting there for us when we return.”

  “Return? From where? Where are we going now?”

  “Eden.”

  Eden. The little valley on the property he’d bought from Hearst. Their own private paradise.