Romano was arm’s length from the mustang. He wasn’t staring into her eyes; he was watching her neck, the place it seemed he first wanted to make contact. Slowly he lifted his hand.
“You see,” Bear purred, his voice even deeper. “Once he puts his mark on her she will never leave his side. She will love him, protect him, and most importantly obey him. That is, until death intervenes.”
The mustang nuzzled into Romano’s shoulder while he flattened his palm, pressing it firmly down the animal’s thick neck.
“He strokes her and she is no longer afraid.” Bear folded his bulging arms and moaned a contented sigh. “To find such perfect communion is what we all seek. Even then, life can change, as quickly as a flash in the night.”
Sara stiffened. What did that mean? Was he psychic or simply trying to freak her out? Or both? She was so struck with anxiety she refused to look at him in case he continued to press for more personal information.
“Such tender moments,” Bear said, following the long strokes Romano made into the horse’s flanks. “They inspire me to spend some time with my wives. So if you’ll excuse me.” He lumbered away towards the house, leaving Sara more than a little relieved that he was gone.
She waited, sitting in the grass, minutes ticking by. Romy had flattened his palm over every inch of the wild horse’s neck and back and flanks. Even though she was incensed by Bear’s suggestion of obedience and ownership, she couldn’t help but agree; it seemed this once-wild creature had been thoroughly tamed by mere whispers and touch. If anyone could do that, Romano could. He had pulled out Sara’s fears simply by holding her and keeping the cold at bay. She felt it was something she and the horse shared--a deep and endless love for Romano.
“Come,” he said, smiling towards Sara at last. “Come and say hello.”
Smell was all-important to a horse. Sara had friends who trained horses and in the process hadn’t changed their clothes for days. It was the same now--nostrils on a sticky velvety nose flared--but it was Romano she snuffed, not Sara. In fact, her huge eyes darted to Sara with alarm. With no rope Romy had little choice but to let her go when she danced away.
“It’s you she wants,” Sara said, slipping her arm seductively around Romy’s waist. “And I can’t say that I blame her.”
“Why, little rabbit,” he cooed. “I do believe you’re flirting with me.” His expression went from innocent surprise to sultry acknowledgement. “You are flirting with me.”
“Goof,” she teased, both arms round him in a full embrace. “I’ve been flirting with you since we met in that saloon.”
“Um,” he sighed, sounding very much like his friend. “I know. But I just wanted to double check my facts.” The hair on his face had thickened since the afternoon they met, the result of a few days traveling without conveniences. Between that and the tangled mane that curled over each shoulder, he had a very rugged, untamed look himself, one that stirred extreme awareness in Sara. Unaccustomed to this wild sort of man she was beginning to understand why Brandi had been so attracted to such a type. This was far better than what an imagination might offer.
“Do you want me, Sara?” he asked. No mockery now. The question was steeped in austere sincerity.
“For what?” she grinned up, her breast squashed against his chest. She wasn’t quite through teasing him. She was slightly drunk with power, for although he was strong he wilted when she was this close to him.
“You know ... for what.” His black eyes narrowed. “I will do anything you ask as long as it makes you happy.”
Sara was quickly losing the urge to tease. Butterflies stirred in her stomach. He pushed a hardened groin tightly against her body to reiterate his promise. He had politely controlled his passions, waiting for her approval. Now it was her turn to wilt. She applauded his control, for it was an attribute that she was quickly beginning to lose.
Competition was suddenly announced from a rival. The mustang had sauntered up behind Romy and nudged him without care. If a horse could look perturbed this one certainly did. She snorted a short complaint before stepping back again.
“I think someone is jealous,” Romy said.
“Should this worry me?”
Romy laughed. “I hope not. If it does then I have given you many wrong impressions. But I do need to spend more time with her. The sooner she can be managed, the sooner we can leave and I don’t want to impose on Bear longer than necessary.”
“You have my total agreement there.”
“Perhaps if you name her she might not think of you as a threat.”
“Call her Taboo,” Sara suggested.
“Taboo,” Romy repeated. “I like that. What does this word mean?”
“Forbidden. Outlawed. If we are going to accept her into our gang she might as well live up to our unsavory reputation.”
“Taboo she shall be.”
Sara’s neck suddenly warmed to Romy’s touch, the same touch that Taboo was likely longing for more of. He leaned and pressed a delicate kiss to her lips. Short, sweet, promising. The coolness returned to her flesh as Romy pulled away.
“Soon we shall taste what is taboo, what is forbidden,” he said. It sounded almost a threat, and it gave Sara the most delicious sensation. But for now she would have to wait her turn. For now, he had to tame another first.
* * * *
The next day did not go quickly. Romano spent hours lavishing his attention on Taboo, which paid off wonderfully in the end. Not only had the animal listened intently to every word in the Spanish language but she also seemed to understand. When Romy finally placed a saddle on the curve of her back she accepted without any protest at all. Sara still got the distinct feeling, however, that she wasn’t an object of approval. Taboo would swing her head round and nudge Sara if she got too close to her master. Only when Romy held her neck did the horse allow Sara to climb on her back.
“She doesn’t like me,” Sara said. “Why don’t you take her? It’s what she’d prefer.”
It was a logical comment, one issued in innocence. Romy’s reaction was one soaked with annoyance. “I shall not be manipulated by a female.”
“Excuse me for breathing,” Sara snapped in return.
“I meant a horse. They must learn who is master. They must learn to obey.”
“Of course. That part came through loud and clear.” Sara shot him a scowl. You better not be alluding to me, she thought. If the remark had double meaning he wasn’t dwelling on it. Sara let the incident slide. He was tired and mentioned more than once he was anxious to get moving again. Horses, like women, couldn’t be rushed however, he had joked. Not if a man wants the most satisfying results. As beautiful a creature as a horse was, Sara still wasn’t much flattered being compared to one, regardless of what was obviously a nineteenth century compliment.
Taboo trotted around the yard with Sara. After a few successful trips Romano nodded approval. Bear, who had been sitting on his porch using a Bowie knife as a nail file, cheered to the success. “You have the touch,” he shouted to Romy, a comment that seemed to rouse a private joke, for both men laughed longer than what Sara felt was necessary.
Two nights sleeping on Bear’s porch, although more agreeable than inside, had left Sara feeling grimy and itchy. She ached for a hot bath, a chance to shave her legs, wash her hair, and get rid of at least one layer of dust that seemed to have become a third skin. She feared before much longer she’d become as fragrant as Bear. And worse still, become accustomed to it.
Mid afternoon Romy decided they would head out. He fastened his saddle on Taboo, telling Sara she’d be more comfortable than riding bareback. “Besides,” he added, “she’s still a little, how should I say? Energetic.”
It didn’t much matter to Sara as long as they were biding their farewell. Bear had been pleasant enough and his wives were virtually nonexistent, but they had all given her an uncomfortable feeling. Likely that feeling was mutual.
Bear took hold of Romy’s shoulders. “Not so long next time
, my good friend,” he said with great affection. The huge man shivered and pinched his lips together to keep from becoming emotional. Sara glanced away. It was comforting, though, to realize that beneath all that muscle and brawn there was a human being with a heart that was so kind.
“Flatwater is only a half day’s ride from here,” Bear said. “Ask for Flicker. He’ll get you another saddle.”
“Flicker-Jack?” Romy laughed, settling onto his horse. “I am surprised he’s still breathing.”
“As am I. But don't underestimate the shrewdness of some thieves. Flatwater seems to attract those who travel on the quiet. Never know who you might find.” Bear smiled and patted his rugged chest. “I go twice a year to relieve fools of their money at cards. You might try the same.”
“Thank you, Bear. For everything.”
“Always my pleasure,” he answered. Turning to Sara he peered up into her eyes and softly added, “Tell him only what he needs to hear. The rest he wouldn’t understand.”
The comment haunted Sara. Bear seemed to have second sight, or at the very least a sensitivity to the paranormal. As a result, perhaps he ‘saw’ that this was not her world, her time. Or, maybe he was just being dramatic and she was the one being sensitive. Either way it was a bothersome tickle, like a tiny twig caught between skin and clothing.
Late afternoon had become so hot the air was white. By early evening a cool breeze wafted into her damp neck. When they stopped along a small stream to allow the horses to drink, Sara ached to bathe. The ache became an obsession.
“Let’s stay here this evening,” she suggested coyly. “If I don’t get a bath soon, I’ll end up smelling as repugnant as your friend.”
Romy crinkled his nose. “Too late,” he said.
“That’s it,” Sara said with determination. She dropped from the horse and untied her carpetbag. A pool of water awaited and she didn’t even care if it was freezing cold. “You go do your guy stuff while I get a bath. Call me when dinner’s ready,”
She waited for neither permission nor acknowledgement. She simply found a half comfortable spot where the water pooled the deepest, and dug out the items she needed to achieve this goal of cleanliness. The first small plastic container was shampoo. She held it in her hand a moment, remembering the trip to the mall to buy necessities, all in miniature so to fit into her bag.
One week. She had packed enough for one week. And look what happened.
“Good grief,” she muttered, clutching the shampoo. “If I had known I’d have packed this bag to the brim.” As it was she had very little and so decided to use it sparingly. Next out was the conditioner, and then a bar of soap, razor, shaving foam, hairbrush, toothbrush and finally toothpaste. This was going to be a luxury in ceremony and she was going to savor every second.
Romy was making a camp, searching for a few sticks to build a fire. He seemed distracted, so Sara shrugged off her shirt, laying it on a rock to rinse later. Stepping from her trousers, she decided to keep bra and panties on. Why not? They were in dire need of a bath as well. And she’d be partially covered if Romy decided to suddenly appear.
Secretly she hoped he would.
Wading barefoot into the pebbled stream, she soon got used to the temperature. It was invigorating and so was the simple act of brushing her teeth. The water was clear and refreshing, and she was certain it didn’t hide any dangerous chemicals. She shaved her legs next, humming happily as the gentle flow carried away the used remnants of her own perfumed chemicals. Placing the small containers on a near by flat rock she reached for the shampoo. When she dunked her head, water trickling down her soaked shoulders, she saw that Romy was sitting cross-legged on the shore, watching.
“Do you mind?” she asked, smoothing wet hair off her forehead. “A girl does like privacy when she attends to her toiletries.”
His full attention was centered on her chest. “I have never seen undergarments like that,” he said with seriousness.
“Shame on you for seeing women’s undergarments at all,” Sara scolded, her voice light and playful. She felt human again now that she was clean. And mischievous.
“Oh,” he stuttered, abashedly. “I didn’t mean ... no, that’s…”
Sara squeezed out a teardrop sized blob of shampoo and massaged it into her hair. Romy lost speech completely. He tipped his head, studying what she was doing, his forehead crinkled in absolute confusion. When his eyes dropped to her carpetbag next to him she tutted loudly. “Don’t even think of looking in there,” she shouted.
He recoiled from it as though a snake might slither out. “Why?”
“Because I said so.” She dunked her head into the water, bubbles twinkling in the sunlight from the surface current.
Poor guy, she thought, covering an amused grin. He was looking right at material items from the twenty first century and didn’t have a clue. How could he? Still, the bewildered look on his face was funny. She carried on, ignoring his quizzical glances.
“But ... where did you get these strange things?”
Rubbing in conditioner she smiled. “At the mall,” she said.
His lips moved as he silently repeated the word, searching for meaning. When none came he tipped his head again. “And this harness you wear,” he nodded to her breasts. “It came from a ... mall?”
“No, I ordered it over the internet. EBay to be exact.”
“Oh, no entiendo,” he puffed, lifting his hands in defeat. “These words I have never heard. I think you’re making them up to tease me.”
Not wanting to frustrate him further Sara explained. “I’m not. They’re just fancy names for stores, sort of. You know, places to go to buy general supplies.”
It worked. His brow lifted. “Emporium,” he said, knowingly.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Why have I never seen such things?” He scratched his scalp.
“Well, do you make a habit of going into stores for women?”
His backbone stiffened. “No!” he protested.
“There you go then. These are things that girls buy so they can look and feel good.”
Romy sniffed the air. “It smells nice. Not like perfumed water. Better.” He stood up. “I like this smell. I wish to join you.”
It was Sara’s turn to look abashed. “What? Oh, no. This is exclusively feminine.”
Too late. After carefully placing both his pistol and knife strategically on the stony shore, he began dropping clothes. Jacket, shirt, holster, and then trousers. Sara wanted to shield her eyes from this blatant display. Instead she sat, stunned into shocked silence. When he peeled down to cotton underwear, she expected he’d stop there. He didn’t. He was kicking out of it, too.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, finally looking away from what she had to admit was perfectly sculptured masculinity. “Ro-man-o! Have you no shame?”
She heard the water being disturbed as he waded in. Keeping her eyes covered with both hands she felt a small wave as he settled beside her in the pool.
“What’s wrong?” he asked without consciousness. “Most people I know don’t take a bath with clothes on. Or harnesses.”
She peeked through spread fingers. He was respectably concealed, the water covering his hips where he sat, and he was holding the bottle of shampoo. Tapping it he looked at her. “This is not glass.”
“No,” she said, snatching the precious treasure from him. “It’s plastic.”
“Plastic,” he repeated. Still staring at the container he said, “What’s written on it?”
Sara was beginning to lose interest in her possessions. Romano’s bulk, in all its naked glory, was right beside her, and shocked as she had become she felt her mouth dry. She struggled to look at the bottle. “Ah, oh, it says ‘protects colored, permed, dry and damaged hair.’”
Romy leaned to her shoulder and sniffed. Before leaning back he licked her ear. Then he spit into the water.
She couldn’t help but laugh. “You can’t eat it, you goof.”
�
�But it smells like ... sugar?” He rinsed his mouth, frowning at the taste.
She read the label. “Thyme, wheat germ oil and vitamin E, to be exact. To be used externally only.”
He raised both arms. “I would like some.”
“You want me to wash you?”
“Si.”
“Well you can start by wetting the hair on your head, not your armpits.” She was definitely warming to his childlike curiosity. He submerged into the water and came up again, wiping his face clear. Drops hung on his stubble and moustache.
“Turn around.”
He obeyed, lifting slightly, exposing himself briefly. Sara nearly dropped the shampoo. He was tanned, despite having a dark complexion to begin with. His backside shimmered white. She couldn’t help but stare. Oh my, she thought, sensing her tongue was hanging out. Whatever I did to deserve this, make it a habit.
She hesitated a moment, drinking in the vision, one that nearly weakened her to the point of uselessness. The muscles in his shoulders flexed as he found a comfortable seat amongst the pebbles beneath. A wave of wet black hair waited her attention.
“Ready?” she asked, stalling to catch her breath and brush lustful thoughts aside.
Romy threw her a quick glance. “Si.”
To work a lather she had to use a whole handful of the coveted shampoo, but it was worth it. Digging her fingers into his scalp she started a gentle massage. He slumped and moaned appreciation. The sound made her even weaker.
“This feels very good,” he said.
It certainly does, she thought. Twirling the thick mane within her palms, she worked the soap through. “You have beautiful hair.”
“Gracias.”
“I’m not embarrassing you, am I?”
“You do many things to me,” he sighed. “Embarrass is not one.”
Fingers slippery with soap, Sara rotated her thumbs, outward circular movements down his backbone. His skin was flawless and surprisingly soft. It was a blanket for muscle below, however, and each shoulder was knotted with balled tension. Concentrating on the area she massaged, working the sinew, freeing it from the knots that must have caused him discomfort. So enraptured with this task she hadn’t noticed how quiet he had become.
Lady Outlaws Page 13
