Heart of Thunder

by Johanna Lindsey

  “I know,” she replied softly, her hands moving to those scars on his chest, her fingers tracing them gently. “I will mark you every time in some way. Remember that.”

  “You do not seem angry,” he remarked.

  “I don’t have to scream all the time,” she answered, and the hint of a smile touched her lips. “It’s enough that you know I speak the truth.”

  “Yes.” He grinned. “But these new scars I will gladly accept, for they were given in—”

  “Don’t say it!” Her body went stiff, and her fingers turned into claws that pressed warningly against his skin. “Don’t you dare!”

  “Very well.” His eyes narrowed, angry at the sudden change in her. “But whether you wish to forget it or not, I will remember.”

  “Oh, get out of here!” she snapped then. “You got what you wanted. Go on!”

  He left the bed, and Samantha shivered as the cool air touched her where his warmth had so recently been. She quickly covered herself. Hank was staring down at her, furious. For several long moments he just stared at her, and then he left. She turned over, sighing as the door was slammed and locked.

  Chapter 26

  THE iron plate of food was dropped on the table with a resounding clang. Hank looked sideways at Samantha as she went back to the counter for the chilis and salsas. These, too, were dropped heavily on the table before she sat down.

  “You slept late, Sam,” Hank remarked casually, looking at her under the rim of his brows. “Perhaps too late, eh?” She didn’t look at him. “There must be something to explain your mood. Should I guess?” he added suggestively.

  “What did you expect, a truce? You’ve only made matters worse.”

  Her voice was low and bitter, and Hank cringed.

  “I am sorry, Sam.”

  “No you’re not. Don’t be hypocritical.”

  She just wanted to forget last night, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to, any more than she had been able to forget their first time. He had said that she was in his blood. If only he knew that his handsome face haunted her, as well. Thoughts of him would come to her when she least wanted them to. Was he in her blood, too? No! Then what was this power he had over her will? How was it that he could make her want him, hating him though she did?

  “You have not asked about your friend.”

  She looked up at him, noticing for the first time how smooth his cheeks looked when he was freshly shaven. His long sideburns just touched his cheeks, and he had short black curls that turned upward on his temples, giving him a boyish look. He was all man, this Spanish-American half-breed, boyish-looking or not.

  “Sam?”

  Samantha met his questioning eyes, then lowered her own. “My friend?”

  “Ramon Baroja. You have not asked about him.”

  “Oh. No, I haven’t.”

  “Why, when you begged me to find out about him? It has been three days, and you have not asked.”

  “I was afraid to,” she lied, unwilling to admit that she had often forgotten for long periods. “Afraid you would have bad news.”

  “I can see why you might be afraid,” he said cryptically, sitting well back in his chair, his eyes intent on her.

  “Why?”

  “Because you lied to me. The boy is more than just a friend to you.”

  “He’s not a boy,” she protested. “He’s a man. And I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “The very likely possibility of his becoming your husband is what I refer to.”

  “Who told you that?”

  He shrugged. “The rumor came to me.”

  “A rumor is only gossip, not fact. But what difference does it make? It’s certainly none of your business.”

  “Let us say I have an interest,” Hank replied levelly. “Is it true?”

  A grin turned Samantha’s lips. “What if it is?” she asked evasively, her eyes challenging him.

  “I would not like it, niña,” he said darkly.

  She laughed. “You wouldn’t? Perhaps you’ll tell me why it could possibly matter to you.”

  “You seem to forget in all of this that I wanted you for my own, Sam.”

  Her expression sobered. “You don’t anymore.”

  “But I did. You may hate me now, and I accept that. But you professed to love Adrien. I would not like to think your affections turn so quickly. Do they, Sam?”

  After the mention of Adrien, Samantha’s temper came to the fore. “I don’t give a damn what you do and don’t like!”

  “Do you love him?” Hank shouted.

  Her eyes widened in surprise. He was furious, but why?

  “Look at yourself, Hank. Your pride is showing. You just can’t stand the fact that I turned you down and might have quickly found another. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  He stood up, and so did she. They glowered at each other across the table. Then Hank suddenly shoved the table aside and crossed the space between them, before Samantha could think to run.

  He caught her arms and pulled her roughly to him. “Perhaps you are right, Sam. If I had not wanted you so, it would not matter. We could have been good together. You know that now as well as I do.”

  He kissed her, his lips rough and demanding. She fought against it for only a few short moments before she was responding, her arms moving up around his neck. His anger had excited her, as did his closeness, and the memory of pleasure in his arms. She couldn’t fight all of that.

  “Mi querida,” he breathed, his lips moving to her cheek, her neck. “I can still make you my woman. I can keep you here and never let you go.”

  “No!” She shoved him away, shocked. “It’s too late for that!”

  Hank ran a hand through his hair in a weary gesture. He gave her a long, confused look before he turned and crossed to the open door. He stopped there, looking out at the dirt yard, at the brush-covered cliff a hundred yards away, looking really at nothing in particular.

  Samantha stared at his back. “You didn’t really mean that, did you—about keeping me here?”

  “No.”

  She moved to pull the table back to where it belonged and straighten the chairs, needing something to do.

  “Hank, why did you say that?”

  He sighed. “Just words spoken in a moment of passion. Forget them, Sam.”

  Samantha stood staring at his strong back. “But you don’t still want me, you admitted that. You do hate me…don’t you, Hank?”

  He turned and faced her. “Would it make you feel better if I said yes?”

  “I want the truth.”

  “The truth, niña, is that being close to you like this is affecting me. When I look at you I—” He stopped, smiling at the bewilderment in her face. “But that is not what you wanted to hear, eh? You like it better, my hating you?”

  “It’s much simpler that way. And you do, don’t you?”

  He reached out and cupped her chin in his hand. “Feelings change, gatita. When I took you by the stream, I hated you. You know why.”

  “Because I had scorned you, you said.”

  “No, because you used me, to further your cause with another man. That angered me more than I could bear.”

  “You took that all wrong, Hank. I never believed that you and I were anything more than friends.”

  He shook his head. “In your scheme to make your Adrien jealous, you gave me cause to think otherwise. My feelings grew deep, until I knew I wanted you for my own. I have never wanted another woman quite as much.”

  Samantha jerked away from his hand. “What about Angela? You said you wanted her.”

  “It is surprising that you should remember that.” He grinned.

  “Answer me!” she snapped.

  “I did want her. But I knew where I stood with her. You, mi belleza, made me forget her.”

  “Did you force her, too?” she asked bitterly.

  His eyes turned steely gray. “She did not play me false, as you did.” And then he laughed. “She also had a man wh
o would have killed me if I had touched her. It is too bad the one you loved would not avenge you, eh? But, then, you did pretty well all by yourself.”

  “Not well enough,” she replied huffily. “Nor am I finished yet.”

  “Ah, yes, the hordes of killers you will send after me. Let us not forget them. Nor the fact that I will have to kill any who get too close. There will be many deaths for the sake of your revenge, Sam.”

  “I was not referring to that.”

  “No? What then? You wish to shoot me?”

  “Yes, but you will die knowing your scheme against my father failed. Your cousin won’t be able to keep the land you have gone to so much trouble to get for him. I will see to that.”

  Hank stiffened. “I thought we settled this. You don’t believe my warning?”

  “Oh, I believe you. But you can’t do anything about it if you’re dead, now can you?” she taunted.

  “And if I do not die, niña? If you or your paid killers cannot find me? What then?”

  “I can wait,” she said implacably. “Eventually I will get our land back.”

  “How?”

  “You can hold me to silence only as long as my father lives. When he dies, your cousin will have the fight of his life on his hands. And I will win, Hank.”

  “Too much time will have passed,” he scoffed. “Your claim on the land would be invalid.”

  “Not if I pave the way beforehand. Lawyers can do a great deal, you know. I can put it on record now that you blackmailed me to keep me from getting what is rightfully mine.”

  There was silence, then Hank asked suddenly in a deadly soft whisper, “That land means so much to you?”

  “Yes. And I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll get my land back.” Her eyes gleamed with triumph as she saw how her words were shaking him, and for spite, she added, “Your cousin’s sons will never inherit that land, Hank—but mine will. I promise you that.” And she turned abruptly and went back to her room before he could find a reply.

  Chapter 27

  SAMANTHA’S mood improved a hundredfold in the next two days because Hank had believed her, was enraged, and could not hide it. He had no more threats, no means of stopping her. Everything he had done by kidnapping her would be for nothing.

  The immediate future would not change. That was the drawback. For the time being, Hank had won. His cousin would have the land—for many years, Samantha hoped, for she wanted her father to live to a ripe old age. But Hank’s victory would last only that long.

  Samantha gloated. It relieved her boredom very nicely. It made her anger over her confinement subside quite a bit. She forgot to count the days and was surprised to realize that she had been in the valley for two weeks.

  If Hank had been on her mind before, he was soon in her thoughts continually. Whether she was in the outer room with him, or alone in her own tiny room, he haunted her. And she did not always think of him with anger.

  She was curious about this man who had become the focal point of her life. He had once wanted her to go to Mexico with him. What would it have been like if she had said yes? The circumstances all might have been different. If she had known about Adrien sooner. If Hank had asked her to marry him instead of just to live with him. Things might have been quite different. After all, he was an extremely attractive man—muy guapo—as Froilana would say. He had excited her from the first. Nor would she deny the strange power he had over her when he took her in his arms. What would it be like to be his willing partner instead of having to fight herself.

  She would never know. She would always fight him. It couldn’t be any other way, not after all that had happened.

  But that didn’t stop her from wondering. There was that other side to him, the side she couldn’t understand. He could be the most winsome, likable man! When those gray eyes of his shone with laughter he could make anyone smile.

  And then there was the Hank who was risking his life for his cousin. All of this, for his cousin. Hank would get nothing out of it. Why was he doing all this for Antonio Chavez? She would like to meet the man who inspired such devotion. Or was that, maybe, all lies, too? Perhaps Hank wasn’t really so selfless. Perhaps he would be getting something out of it, after all. But what?

  Samantha leaned back on her hands and stretched her legs out on the porch steps. The morning sun had yet to find its way over the roof to the steps, and it was cool there, but it promised to be a hot day, even at this altitude. She looked around. Her beautiful mountains. She had never thought she would be living in them, tucked away in a hidden valley. And for how much longer?

  Times like this, she didn’t mind the waiting. She could sit on the porch alone and think. It gave her the only sense of freedom she had. She knew she couldn’t wander off. She knew that even now Hank’s eyes were on her. He was inside, sitting at the table with his morning coffee, watching her through the open door. But she didn’t mind.

  She could feel his eyes on her back. He would be scowling. She laughed softly to herself. Yes, he would definitely be scowling. She had burned his breakfast that morning. Not on purpose, but of course he thought it was intentional and blew up about it. Such a grouch! But then she knew what was really eating at him—her and the doubts she had planted in his mind.

  Stretching lazily, Samantha rose and crossed to the open door. She stopped there, leaning against the frame, staring boldly at Hank. He caught her eye, and his face darkened. It was amusing to see how easily she could upset him.

  “You have something on your mind, Sam?” he asked curtly. She didn’t look away.

  “Nothing in particular.” She shrugged. “I was just wondering about you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Tell me something. If I had agreed to be your woman, just supposing, would you still have taken up your cousin’s cause?”

  Hank leaned back and, for the first time in two days, grinned. “If you were my woman, Sam, my first loyalty would be to you.”

  “You’re not just saying that to make me think I brought this whole thing on myself by refusing you?”

  Now he shrugged. “Think whatever you like.”

  Samantha frowned. “Would you have brought me here, to live in this shack? Is this the kind of life you were offering me?”

  Hank laughed humorlessly. “Believe me, things would have been very different. But it is pointless to speculate. You refused. We are here now under quite different circumstances.”

  “Of course,” she said offhandedly. She sighed. “Don’t you get bored, sitting around here doing nothing?”

  “There is nothing to be done until I know the last message has reached your father. It is a waiting game we all play. I do not like it any more than you do.”

  Samantha walked slowly into the room, stopping across the table from him. “You could give it up, you know,” she said casually.

  “Why? Because you say you will win in the end? You are not guaranteed a long life, Sam. People die. Your father could outlive you, and then it would be my cousin who won.”

  “That’s a long shot, and you know it.”

  “Possible though.”

  “Go right ahead and hope for that if it makes you happy.” She smiled.

  Hank cleared his throat and went on. “There are two things I can do yet, niña, to assure that the land stays in the Chavez family. But you will not like them.”

  She looked at him warily. “What?”

  “Well, you and I could make a baby—if we have not already done so.”

  Samantha gasped.

  His eyes danced with laughter. “I have not given it much thought, but the fact is that you have sworn your sons will inherit that land, and if one of your sons should be mine—”

  “Never!” Samantha shrieked, planting her hands squarely on the table to lean forward and glare at him. “Do you hear? Never!”

  “It was…just a thought.” He grinned.

  Her eyes gleamed like emerald fire. “I would never bear you a son!”

  “You may not have a
choice.”

  “Don’t even think about it!” she warned furiously. “Of all the insane ideas. It’s your cousin who wants the land, not you. Why would you think of such a thing?”

  She turned away from the table in anger, but she was too upset to leave it alone and turned back to look at him narrowly. “What makes you even think I would keep a son of yours? You know how much I hate you.”

  “Sí, I know your heart is cold where I am concerned. But we speak of a baby—your baby. I do not think you would hate your baby simply because I was the father.”

  “I can’t believe I’m even discussing this with you.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “I will not have your baby! I didn’t conceive the first time you…raped me. This last time will be no different!”

  “It only takes once, querida,” he said softly. “The possibility is there.”

  “The odds are against it!” she snapped, hating his confident tone.

  “I could improve the odds.”

  Her eyes widened. She understood all too well.

  “You really are crazy,” she whispered. “Your lust is one thing. But wanting to create an innocent child for such a despicable reason….”

  Hank rose, and Samantha backed away slowly. “Don’t you come near me, damn you. I’ll tell you right now that if I had your child, I might raise it, but I would disinherit it anyhow. Do you understand? You still won’t win! I won’t let you!”

  “I will gamble, Sam, that when the time comes, you will not do so. You will have forgotten me by then, and you will love your child. You will never disown it.”

  He took a step toward her, and she screamed “No,” shaking her head and backing away. “No!”

  She was out the door and down the steps before Hank could stop her, running without direction. She wanted only to outrun him, to hide, anywhere.

  “Whoa, muchacha.”

  Samantha’s feet left the ground as an arm gripped her waist and she was spun around.

  “Caramba! What has come over you, woman?”

  She stopped, recognizing the voice, and nearly cried with relief. “Thank God it’s you, Lorenzo. I thought—” And then she stiffened and grasped his shirt. “Don’t let him catch me! Please! Don’t let him take me back into that house!”