by Sandra Brown
Gloria virtually threw the medicine at Jared when she returned. Pulling a gawking Rudy out of the room, she said, “Take your time. Maria and I will get dinner. Jared, you should lie down and rest. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
The door was drawn shut and the two were left alone.
Lauren dropped the blood-soaked shirt on top of her own soiled blouse. Silently, together, they watched fabric settle against fabric.
Stirred into action, Lauren crossed to the wardrobe, intending to get another blouse and don it quickly when she turned her head slightly over her shoulder and asked, “Does it hurt too much?” She drew her breath in sharply when she saw the oozing puncture marks on Jared’s chest and the rivulets of blood that ran through the thick mat of hair. “Oh, Jared,” she cried, rushing toward him, suddenly not caring that she was clothed from the waist up in only her sheer, lace-edged chemise. She had taken Elena’s advice and stopped wearing a corset every day.
“Here, sit down,” she directed, taking his hand and leading him to the small vanity stool Gloria had provided for her. “Let me wash you off so we can see how bad it is.”
“It’s really nothing,” he said again, and she wondered at the low, uneven sound of his voice. Was he in that much pain?
She poured fresh water into her washing bowl and dipped a clean towel into it. Her hand paused over his naked chest. She drew a long, shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Then she touched him, dabbing at the hair-matted skin with the absorbent towel. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she murmured.
Jared gritted his teeth, not in pain from his chest wounds, but in agony from having her this close to him. The skin of her creamy white throat was scented with lavender and the fragrance intoxicated him, making him dizzy. Or was that light-headedness caused by loss of blood? It didn’t matter, the result was the same. He could feel her breath, like a cooling balm, fanning his face as she exhaled.
Of their own volition, his eyes lowered to her breasts. His jaw clenched reflexively when he saw them swaying slightly under the soft fabric. It took every ounce of willpower he could garner not to reach out and touch them, peel away the diaphanous cloth and learn the true color of her nipples, which were only vague shadows, elusive and bewitching.
His physical desire was becoming painfully manifested in the tight pants. He diverted his eyes to her hands, which dipped the towel into the washbasin and wrung out the excess water, staining the bowl with his blood. Think about the blood, he commanded himself. Think about the pain you felt when the wire slapped into you. Think about anything but—
“There, I think that will do for now,” she was saying. Her voice was soft and low, caressing his ears. “Those punctures are deep. Didn’t you have on that cowhide vest you usually wear?”
“No,” he answered, glad they were talking. Anything helped. “I took it off because it got too hot. If I had left it on, I probably wouldn’t have been cut.”
“This is going to hurt, too,” she apologized softly as she soaked a piece of cotton with the foul-smelling medicine out of the corked blue bottle.
“I’m tough,” he said, and looked up at her with a mischievous smile.
Both were momentarily mesmerized by the other’s nearness. Their eyes locked in a silent communication and the message transmitted struck each of them in the heart and was startling in its impact. Lauren tore her eyes away first.
“I’ll try not to hurt you anymore,” she said as she delicately touched one of the wounds. He sharply sucked in air between his teeth, making a whistling sound. Beads of perspiration popped out of his forehead.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she quickly dabbed the other punctures. Then, to his agonized delight, she began to blow on the stinging wounds. From the angle at which he looked down at her as she leaned over him, her eyes appeared to be closed. Violet shadows tinted her lids, and her black lashes contrasted with the delicate cheek on which they seemed to rest. He looked along the slender length of her nose to her mouth. The lips were moist, pink, slightly parted, and bow-shaped as her breath passed through them and teased his fevered skin. It stirred the hair on his chest and cooled the burning sensation from the punctures, but ignited a fire in another part of his body.
“Oh, God,” he groaned deep in his throat. He stood up abruptly, upsetting the cushioned stool, and clasped her in his arms. He pulled her toward him with such force that the breath whooshed out of her body from the impact. The mouth that took hers was avaricious, parting her surprised lips with a thrusting tongue. Yet when the treasure had been discovered, that plundering invader became gentle and savored what it had found.
His hands slid along the bare skin of her arms, as smooth and cool as satin, and lifted them around his own neck. For a moment, they lay there, unpracticed and still. Jared’s breath was expelled in a relieved sigh when he felt her hands lock behind his neck and her fingers plow through his thick, unruly hair. He brought her closer by applying pressure with the hand on the small of her back. His legs straddled hers, molding them into an ageless position as she curved up against him.
Lauren became aware of a foreign hardness spearing into her belly and was both alarmed and intrigued. Responsively she moved against the intruder and felt a melting warmth in the pit of her stomach that rendered the rest of her weak.
Jared’s hand moved between their bodies and fear and desire combated in her brain when she realized the direction it was taking. She was wanting something she couldn’t name. Did it have anything to do with his hand that hovered near her breast?
He wouldn’t touch her there. Would he? No. She didn’t want him to. Did she? Yes. Yes, please, she cried silently, not examining where such a wicked thought had originated, but dimly aware that it had something to do with the hard strength of his body pressed against the harmonizing softness of hers.
Jared’s mind was reeling. No one felt like this. No mouth had ever tasted this good, he thought as he savored her lips. His hand slid over the soft mound of her breast and pressed gently. It was as firm and full in his palm as he remembered from their brief contact the day he had surprised her in her room. Under the steady, coaxing movements of his fingers, her nipple responded, becoming a firm bud of passion, eager to bloom.
In unguarded and introspective moments, Jared had hoped that somewhere there would be a woman like this. Uniquely his. Different from all others. Hadn’t Ben told him—
Ben!
The name screamed through his mind, ricocheting off the walls of his brain with a cacophonous echo. Ben! Had his father held her this way? Had she responded in kind, murmuring that low purr deep in her throat?
He pushed her away from him with such force that she fell across the bed, looking up at him with rapidly blinking and uncomprehending eyes. Her hair tumbled across her shoulders and fell onto the creamy, rose-tipped breasts left partially bare from his caress.
He pointed an accusing finger at her. “I told you to stay away from me!” he shouted. His breathing was a harsh rasp. “You’re beautiful. I’ll give you that. And you’re softer and taste sweeter…” His voice dwindled to an anguished whisper. “God!” He slammed his fist into his palm. The pounding demand in his loins was unbearable. With her sprawled across the bed, looking up at him with such absolute innocence, his organ answered with an excruciating throbbing.
He ought to take her now, conquer her once and for all. He longed to flip up her skirts and see if her thighs were as smooth as he had imagined them to be. Then he would ram himself between them, thrusting until he found release from the desire that had stalked and haunted him for so long.
Had Lauren known his thoughts, she would have been terrified. Instead, as she lay on the bed, watching the misery radiate from every pore of his body, she knew only compassion for her husband. She sat up and timidly extended her hand toward him, an offer to soothe away the pain inflicted by whatever devil tormented him.
He recoiled. “I don’t want any part of you,” he declared unsteadily. “Do you understand?”
He whirled away from her, flung open the wardrobe door, tore a shirt from the hanger, and stamped across the room to the door. It slammed with a resounding crash when he went out.
Lauren fell back and rolled over onto her stomach, burying her face into the mattress of the bed. She sobbed brokenly, her tears absorbed by the bedspread.
Was she crying because he had kissed her so insultingly or because she had responded so wantonly? Because he had stopped kissing her? Or because of his abusive words? Was her biggest fear that he would soon grow tired of the trap he was in, pay her the twenty thousand dollars, and send her packing?
The questions tumbled in her mind. And for none of them did she have an answer.
* * *
The next morning, Lauren and Maria were returning from a ride when they heard shouting from one of the corrals. The vaqueros were gathered around the fence.
Lauren spotted the tall, lean figure of her husband. She hadn’t seen him since the day before when she had tended his wounds. After he had slammed out of the room, she had lain there for a while before restoring herself enough to go in to dinner. The Mendezes were at the table, patiently awaiting her.
Jared didn’t appear. After everyone had started eating, Rudy quietly and inconsequentially stated that Jared was needed at the bunkhouse. No one commented, and Lauren had pretended indifference to his absence.
As they dismounted and tied their horses to the hitching rail in front of the house, Lauren said to Maria, “I think I’ll stay out for a while.” Her curiosity was piqued by the commotion at the corral.
“Very well,” Maria said, smiling. “I enjoyed our ride. Ben and I used to ride early in the mornings. I’ve missed the exercise.”
“We’ll do it whenever you want.” Lauren patted the older woman’s arm before Maria climbed the steps to the front door.
Strolling in the direction of the corral, Lauren told herself she wasn’t going there to see Jared. As she approached, twenty or so vaqueros were driving a bull into a chute.
“What’s going on, Rudy?” she asked her brother-in-law as she reached the fence.
He jerked his head around to face her. “It’s… uh… we’re going to… uh… castrate this bull.”
“Oh,” Lauren replied, red-faced. She turned to go, but was blocked by the sudden appearance of her husband. He put out a restraining arm.
“Why don’t you stay and watch? Your being so interested in Keypoint and the ranching business and all, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
“Jared—” Rudy began.
“No, Rudy. Lauren is dying to learn everything she can about the cattle and the vaqueros.”
His words were biting and harsh. Lauren wished desperately that she had followed Maria into the house. Suddenly Jared gripped her shoulders and turned her toward the corral, holding her against him with deceptive gentleness. His hands felt like iron bands around her upper arms.
“Why… why do you do that to a particular bull?”
She hoped the question would have a calming effect on him. She really didn’t care to know anything about the procedure and certainly didn’t want to watch it.
Jared drawled around his cigar, “Well, there could be any number of reasons. Better beef. Or maybe he can’t please the cows anymore. It may be only because he’s a mean sonofabitch.”
“Then maybe that’s what we should do to you,” Rudy said in a deadly voice. He wasn’t about to let Lauren witness the bloody procedure.
Jared spun around and glared at his brother. He tossed his cigar away with a negligent flick of his wrist. “Is that a fact? Well, just who in hell is going to try?”
Without preamble, Rudy lowered his head and charged into Jared’s stomach, knocking the younger man down.
Lauren gasped and cowered against the fence as they rolled in the dust, arms and legs thrashing, blood spurting from busted lips and smashed noses. They stood and circled each other warily, then Jared counterattacked and they crashed to the ground again. The vaqueros had stopped their work and stood in a wide circle around the fighting brothers. The only sounds were the thuds of landed blows and the grunts of pain and effort.
Gloria came running from the house, skirts flying. A few of the children stood in awe of the spectacle. They had seen their father and Uncle Jared fight before, but it was always playful wrestling. Their young, precocious minds perceived that this was different.
Gloria grabbed the revolver out of one of the cowboy’s holsters before he had time to react. Since she knew that the first chamber was always empty, she cocked it twice and then fired into the air.
The two bodies on the ground fell apart and gasped for needed breath. When they had recovered somewhat, they sheepishly wiped away blood from their faces and bodies with dusty, tattered sleeves. The abrasions on Jared’s chest had reopened and were staining his shirt with bright red blood. Embarrassed, they looked at each other.
Jared grinned at Rudy, grimacing with the pain of moving his swollen lips. “Just as I thought. You’re getting soft and out of shape, old man.”
“Like hell. A few more seconds and you would have been begging for mercy.”
Jared rose painfully to his feet, swayed until he was not so dizzy, and then extended his hand to Rudy, who took it gratefully and pulled himself up. They supported each other for a few moments and then burst out laughing.
Everyone joined in their laughter, relieved that the fracas had been in fun after all. Only Lauren knew differently.
Without thinking of the consequences, only wanting to put distance between herself and these barbarians, she dashed toward Flame, who was still tied to the rail. Placing her booted foot in the stirrup, she vaulted into the saddle.
She kneed the mare into a gallop and raced past the others, who were staring at her in temporary stupefaction. Her hat sailed off her head and landed to within inches of Jared’s feet.
“What the—” he started.
“You’d better go after her, Jared,” Rudy suggested tentatively. “She was upset.”
“Why?” Gloria demanded.
“She… uh… Jared wanted her to watch a castration,” Rudy said.
“My God! How could you even have considered such a thing?” Gloria asked angrily. “Go after her. Both of you.”
The two men saw the wisdom of her words as they sought the horizon and barely made out the tiny figure of horse and rider as they went over the hill.
“Come on,” Jared ordered tersely as he started in the direction of Charger at a lope. Rudy mounted his own horse and soon they were thundering across the plain in the direction Lauren had taken. Gloria muttered imprecations under her breath about the immature behavior of men as she gathered up her children and shooed them into the house.
Lauren’s eyes were stinging from the cold wind, but the wind wasn’t responsible for the tears that clouded her eyes and ran unchecked down her face. Why had she ever consented to marry Jared Lockett? He was a brute, the most callous, abusive man she had ever met.
Heedlessly, she raced over the rocky ground. Usually even at a gallop, she handled the obliging mare with gentleness. Today she was too caught up in her own problems to see the prairie dog hole before they were upon it. Flame’s hoof caught in the indentation and Lauren heard the fatal snap of the bone a fraction of a second before she went sailing through the air.
Chapter 14
She landed on her back. Lying still a moment, she tried to determine if she were injured. Deciding she wasn’t, she sat up gingerly. Nothing appeared to be broken, though she was sure to have bruises the next day.
At Flame’s piteous whinnying, Lauren stood up and scrambled toward the mare. Flame’s eyes were gaping wide in fright and pain. Lauren saw the awkward angle at which her front leg lay.
“Oh, no,” Lauren murmured as she fell to her knees and stroked the mare’s neck. “I’m sorry, girl,” she sobbed. “I didn’t mean to punish you. I’ll see that you’re fixed. You’ll get well. You must.” Tears ran down her face and she wiped them away,
creating a dirty smear across her cheek.
Dimly she heard approaching horses, but she didn’t take her eyes from the mare, who still screamed in pain while Lauren spoke to her in low, soothing tones.
Jared and Rudy reined in and assessed the situation in an instant. Jared didn’t want to acknowledge the relief he felt when he saw that Lauren was apparently intact. He and Rudy glanced at each other and nodded in unison. They dismounted together, as though choreographed.
Lauren looked up when she saw their boots close to Flame’s head. Bounding to her feet, she ran to her husband, gripping his arms. Her eyes were full of pleading tears. “Jared, it was my fault. She stumbled in a gopher hole. She’s… It will be all right… Help her… She’ll get well.”
With deadly calm, Jared ignored her eyes as his hand sought his pistol in its holster and withdrew it. “No,” she rasped. “No!”
“Rudy,” was all he said.
Lauren felt herself hauled out of the way as Jared aimed his pistol and fired. The mare’s scream ceased immediately, only to be replaced by the echoing of the pistol shot. Then another scream bounced off the surrounding hills, but Lauren didn’t recognize it as hers as she flew into Jared.
“You monster! You killed her. Beast! Animal! Killer! Killer, killer.” Her small fists pummeled his chest and her feet kicked at his shins. She wanted only to hurt him, to avenge her own pain. He stood passively and took the punishment, not raising a hand to protect himself. “I hate you!” she screamed. “You’re vile and savage. Cruel.” Her voice began to lose some of its impetus, as did her pounding fists. “I hate you.” The words were barely a whisper now and they came out as a sob. She dropped to the ground in a heap, like a wind-up toy which had suddenly wound down. Great racking sobs shook her shoulders.
