Hostage Heart

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Welcome back, Lark. That stud got to ya before I could.” Shanks leaned over, barely touching her left temple. “Clipped ya, he did. That’s all right, I got the bastard. Shot him through the heart after he run ya down. Ol’ One Eye has gone to horse hell by now.”

  Lark’s first thought was that her hands were tied, her second the realization that Shanks had shot her wranglers. Her blood chilled and she fought a sudden nausea and dizziness. “What happened to Boa Juan and Carlos?” she croaked out.

  She cringed as Shanks picked up some of her hair, sifting it gently through his long fingers. “Oh, them…” He laughed, a high giggle. “Well, it was like this. I wanted ya and not them. So I got rid of ’em by firin’ a couple of shots over their heads. By the time they circled around to get into the canyon, I’d thrown ya over my horse and hid in this cave. They musta spent a good hour tryin’ to find ya, but I’d wiped out my tracks. They finally gave up and left. That horse of yores lit outa here, too.” He chuckled, pleased with himself. “So ya see, no one knows where yore at. Purty smart, huh?” He rested easily on his haunches, grinning at her.

  Lark shut her eyes, desperately trying to think. Her head throbbed where One Eye had grazed it with his hoof. She was lucky to be alive. Finally she settled her gaze on Shanks. “Why have you done this?”

  He pulled out a paper and dangled it in front of her face. “Sign this, breed, and I’ll let ya go.”

  She scowled, “What are you talking about?”

  “Sez here that yore to sign over the water rights of yore ranch to Mr. Cameron.” He pointed to the bottom line. “Ya sign this now, and I let ya go. Pure and simple. Or you and I can enjoy this cave until ya sign it. Take yore pick.” His eyes glittered. “Personally, I’d like to spend a lot of time here with ya.” His gaze settled hotly on her breasts.

  A frisson of fear cleared away her lingering grogginess. Shanks was capable of anything, including killing her. “So Cameron’s behind all this,” she snapped. “Did he pay Ga’n to try the same thing?”

  “Yeah, that red renegade botched the job.” Shanks threw the paper down in her lap. “But I ain’t gonna.”

  Licking her dry lips, Lark looked nervously up at her captor. “Don’t you realize what Cameron’s doing? If you don’t let me go, you’ll go to jail.”

  “Girl, yore plumb outa yore head.” He slapped his knee gleefully. “Ole Dan Cole ain’t gonna arrest me. Prescott’s owned by Cameron, in case ya haven’t figured that out yet. The law listens to him.”

  “What if I don’t sign this paper?”

  Shanks slid his hand along her denim-covered thigh. “Cameron said to persuade ya. He didn’t say how.”

  “You bastard!” Lark cried, and spat into his face.

  Shanks reared backward, unprepared for such an attack. He rubbed his eyes furiously.

  Scrambling to her feet, Lark propelled herself toward the opening of the cave. Devil’s Mouth! She knew the series of caves well. Running hard, her breath torn from her lungs, she slipped through the opening.

  “Stop or I’ll drill ya!” Shanks shrieked.

  To her left was a sheer rock wall. Trying to jerk the bonds free, she ran to the right and down a narrow, pebble-strewn path. She heard Shanks hard on her heels, his angry yelps growing closer and closer. Desperately she ran, slipping and sliding, and spotted Shanks’s buckskin gelding at the bottom. He wasn’t saddled, but that didn’t matter.

  A shot rang out. The slug bit into the dirt near her feet. Sobbing for breath, Lark leaped off the path and tumbled down the steep incline to where the horse was tied. Another shot ricocheted off boulders inches from her head.

  The buckskin shied as Lark rolled to a stop near his dancing hooves. “Whoa!” she ordered. The buckskin froze, too well trained to think of moving when that command was given.

  Lark jerked a look over her shoulder. Shanks appeared at the top of the hill. She fumbled with the straps to the hobbles. There! Grabbing a chunk of the horse’s black mane, she vaulted onto his back. “Giddyap!” she shrilled. The buckskin’s eyes rolled when she sunk both heels into his flanks. Leaping forward, he galloped out of the area, heading down another, narrower path.

  Wind stung Lark’s eyes as she clamped her thighs around the hurtling animal. The buckskin obviously hadn’t been trained to respond to light touches and subtle shifts of weight. The only thing he knew was a spade bit in his mouth. Now Lark was careening down the canyon path on a frightened, runaway horse over which she had no control. She heard a gun being fired once, twice, three times. Three bullets stung the air nearby, raising puffs of dust on the rocky canyon wall above her head. Clinging to the buckskin with her tied hands wrapped in the mane, Lark urged the animal on at a terrific pace. No matter where the horse ran, it would be away from Shanks. He’d be on foot, unable to follow her. Home! She had to get home!

  The buckskin charged out of Devil’s Canyon and onto a dry, dusty flat. Lark tried to steer the gelding by yanking his mane right and left, but the horse wouldn’t respond. She tried to slow him down, but to no avail. Sobbing for breath, Lark studied the land ahead. The flat ended in a thick forest grove. Beyond that, the land became rocky and treacherous. If she couldn’t slow the buckskin down, she could well be thrown from the wild-eyed animal.

  A shout drew her attention. At first Lark couldn’t tell who it was, only that it was a wrangler on a gunmetal-gray horse riding rapidly toward her from the edge of the forest. Hope rose in her. It must be one of her ranch hands. She began tugging and jerking on the buckskin’s heavy neck, trying to get him to slow down. Her only hope was the man riding toward her.

  Lark’s spirits soared. It was Matt! She recognized his set features as he spurred the gray ever closer. Sobbing his name, she clung to the buckskin, praying Matt could swing alongside and rescue her. The drowning hoofbeats reverberated as Matt circled slow and wide, so as not to terrorize her animal even further.

  Matt edged his gray closer and closer to the fleeing buckskin. He saw that Lark’s hands were tied and her shirt torn open. What the hell had happened? Grimly, he caught and held her wide, frightened gaze.

  “Steady!” Matt shouted to her. Just a few more feet…a few more…Reaching out, he hooked his arm around Lark’s waist. At that instant, the buckskin shied, moving away at a right angle from them. Unprepared for the unexpected action, Matt nearly dropped Lark. He jerked hard on the reins and the gray settled on his hind legs into a long, skidding stop.

  Lark hung perilously. She gasped, feeling Matt’s arm slipping…slipping…

  The long slide cost the gray dearly. Pebbles tore at his hindquarters and produced bloody scratches on his rear legs. Matt leaned perilously, to one side in the saddle as the horse sat down.

  “Roll!” he commanded her, and then let go, almost falling out of the saddle himself.

  Instinctively Lark curled as the ground rushed up to meet her. Her shoulder hit the hard ground and she rolled away from the tottering horse and rider.

  Dismounting quickly, Matt ran over to where Lark lay. She was slowly getting to her knees when he arrived. He gripped her shoulder.

  “Lark? What the hell happened?” he asked between ragged gasps.

  “Shanks,” she cried. “He tried to kidnap me!”

  Matt raised his head, searching the direction from which she had ridden. “What are you talking about?”

  Shaken, Lark sat still while Matt untied her wrists.

  “Cameron hired Ga’n to kidnap me. When that didn’t work, he sent Shanks to do it. That bastard had orders to make me sign a paper giving my water rights to Cameron! I managed to escape and grab Shanks’s horse.”

  “Hold on,” Matt growled. “I’m going to carry you over to my horse.”

  She was about to protest, but he lifted her into his arms before she could. Clinging mutely to him, Lark whispered, “Paco was right. I shouldn’t have come out here without you.”

  “Hush, Lark.” Matt placed her in the saddle, picked up the reins, and mounted behind her.
He put his arm around her when she swayed in the saddle. “Lean back,” he ordered. “We’re going to get you home.” Though he desperately wanted to go back and search the canyon for Shanks, he knew Lark needed his attention more. She’d suffered cuts and scratches from her escape.

  “How did you find me?”

  “Boa Juan and Carlos rode back to the ranch. They told me someone had shot at them, that they had become worried about you and had gone back to the canyon but couldn’t find you anywhere. I organized the wranglers and sent them in three different groups to search for you along the rim. I was going into the canyon to try and pick up your tracks.”

  “Maybe they’ll catch Shanks walking out of there.”

  “I doubt it. The search pattern we laid out was taking them away from the canyon.”

  As they rode in silence through the forest, Lark’s tense muscles began to relax. Matt’s arms were strong around her, protective. She lay against his powerful chest, knowing he would keep her safe from any further harm. Although still in shock, she was also aware of Matt’s vigilant lookout for bushwhackers. There was a constant tension in his body, and his eyes were constantly alert. Lark trembled.

  “When is this all going to stop?” she asked hoarsely. “Shanks said Sheriff Cole is in cahoots with Cameron. What can we do?”

  “Plenty,” he promised grimly. “I’m going to ride into Prescott tomorrow morning and wire Phoenix. I’ll request that they send a marshal up here to investigate.””

  Anguish wound through Lark, numbing the pain of her physical injuries. “I—I can’t understand how anyone can do what Cameron’s done and get away with it. What’s wrong with him?”

  “Cameron operates without any kind of moral code, honey. He’s worse than an animal,” Matt said. He pulled the gray to a halt and dropped the reins across the horse’s neck. “Come here,” he said roughly, pulling Lark around so that she sat sidesaddle across his lap. Taking her into his arms, he held her tightly. “We’ll fight Cameron together. I’ll be there for you….”

  Her fingers digging into the leather vest he wore, Lark pressed her cheek against his dark blue cotton shirt. “I was so afraid on that buckskin,” she blurted out. “All I could think was that I didn’t want to die without having given you my heart. I felt such loss, so alone….”

  “Shh, honey, you’ve got my heart. It’s going to be all right,” he soothed thickly, caressing her hair.

  “Don’t leave me alone tonight, Matt. I can’t take it. I’m so afraid. Every shadow will remind me of Ga’n or Shanks.”

  Any reservations Matt had about making Lark his woman dissolved. There was real terror in her voice, something he’d never heard before. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, and his voice was rough with emotion. “You’ll sleep with me every night, Lark. I won’t let you be hurt again. I promise.”

  “But the men and their families—what will they think? I don’t want them to lose respect for me.”

  Matt smiled faintly. “Like a good leader, you’ll be careful to keep up appearances for their sake, Lark. I’ll join you after everyone in the bunkhouse has gone to sleep. And I’ll go back before dawn. No one will know. How does that sound?”

  “Wonderful.”

  “You were angry when you left this morning.”

  She nodded, finding solace in his arms. “I didn’t want to hear the truth of your counsel. After I rode out to the canyon and thought about what you’d said, I knew you were right, Matt. I may not feel comfortable walking between two worlds, but the ranch has to come before my own needs.”

  “You’re growing in your role as patrona, honey,” he congratulated her. He squeezed her gently, realizing she must be sore and tender from the fall from the buckskin. “I’m proud of you. Proud as hell.”

  Lark ignored her discomfort once they arrived at the ranch. She helped Matt organize the rest of the returning wranglers. A sentry would be posted and changed every three hours, around the clock, to guard the main buildings of the ranch.

  Near dark, another group of wranglers arrived from the rim of the canyon. Their hard, worried expressions melted into smiles of welcome when they saw Lark standing on the porch. A day of near disaster had turned to one of relief and happiness.

  It was dusk when Lark washed herself in the stream and dressed in the cotton nightgown. Usually she stayed up until midnight, but the day’s harrowing events had sapped her reserves of strength and she was going to bed early.

  The kerosene lamp sputtered on the dresser as she pulled back the sheet and quilt on the brass bed. Exhausted, all she wanted to do was sleep. Within seconds, she spiraled into darkness, escaping the grief of the day.

  Matt waited until the wranglers’ snores told him they were all asleep. Throughout the evening and into the night, he hadn’t forgotten his promise to Lark: to remain at her side and protect her. The events of the day had wiped away all his self-doubt. The thought that Lark might have been found dead somewhere in the canyon still hovered in the shadowy recesses of his mind. In that galvanizing moment, he knew he loved her more than any other woman.

  After quietly dressing, he made his way across the deserted yard, careful to avoid detection by the sentry on horseback. He slipped inside the silent ranch house and trod lightly down the hall. Pushing the door open, he saw Lark curled up in the bed like a lost kitten, looking excruciatingly feminine. She was beautiful, a woman, and she deserved to be treated as such, not like a child.

  After undressing and allowing his clothes to fall in a heap near the bed, Matt blew out the kerosene lamp. Blackness engulfed the room, and he waited for his eyes to adjust.

  The moon was just rising, sending slender streamers across the sky, vaguely outlining Lark’s sleeping form. Matt slid carefully into bed, not wanting to awaken her. Now was not the time to love her; they were both too exhausted. Instead, he moved to her side, fitting her against the curve of his body. Contentment eddied with simmering desire, but he checked it. Just the softness of her form in his arms and the fragrant scent of her newly washed hair were enough for him. A miracle had occurred today, he realized groggily. The miracle of life being handed back to him when he had thought everything he had ever loved had been destroyed—forever. Lark was his miracle of the heart.

  Lark shifted, unconsciously nuzzling into the warmth. Vaguely she realized that something was different, and abruptly she awakened. It was still dark, although something told her dawn would come in another hour or so. Moonlight filtered into the room, softening the hard surfaces and providing a dim light by which she could see Matt, who was holding her in his arms. With growing dismay she realized that the length of her body was pressed against him. Her dismay turned to alarm. Matt was naked, and her nipples were already hardening, pressing insistently against his firm, warm flesh.

  Her alarm dissolved in a matter of heartbeats as Lark studied Matt’s sleeping features. A strand of dark hair had drifted across his brow. A thin, almost unnoticeable white scar marred the corner of his left eye. Had he gotten that scar as a small boy? Without thinking, she caressed the area with her fingertips.

  Matt stirred and slowly opened his eyes. He saw Lark’s guileless features, the concern in her dark, fathomless blue eyes. He felt her hip pressing against his loins. Heat uncurled through his body, and he felt himself hardening. She felt so good. It felt so right to be with her. Managing a smile, he lifted his hand and caressed her hair.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” he asked hoarsely.

  Lark trembled as he continued to stroke her unbound hair. “I awoke for no reason.”

  “You’re like a cat,” he murmured, “arching into my hand every time I stroke you.”

  His words were dark and held much promise. Lark sighed, responding to his tone, unconsciously moving against him. She felt rather than heard his groan. Thrilled that such a featherlight touch could evoke in him a reaction of such magnitude, she leaned upward.

  Matt felt Lark’s lips graze his, lips that were warm and filled with invitation. Sit
ting up in bed, his back against the headboard, he slowly undressed her, letting the cotton nightgown fall to the floor.

  “Come here,” he told her gravely, positioning her across from him so that he could see her drowsy features. He studied her in the silence, drowning in the smoldering fire in her wide, vulnerable eyes and her parted, waiting lips. The moonlight softly caressed her naked form and he stared in awe of her lithe body. “We’re going to take this slow,” he told her, holding her gaze. “As slow as you want it to be. If you become afraid, tell me.”

  Lark tilted her head, lost in the roughness of his voice and the warmth of his dove-gray eyes. “Is speaking allowed?”

  He smiled faintly, caressing her smooth cheek. Her flesh had always reminded him of a ripe, golden peach. “I want my woman to talk to me in many ways. You can use your voice, your hands, and your body to speak to me.”

  Her voice was breathy, expectant. “I see.”

  Matt nodded, studying her intently. He pulled the covers off his lower body, exposing his total nakedness.

  Mesmerized by the tightly coiled power of his body, Lark felt heat rush to her cheeks. He was dark with hair, and his muscles were well accentuated and radiated a heat that made her feel weak with need.

  “Do I frighten you?” Matt waited patiently, seeing many conflicting emotions cross her face. Time, they had time. But could he fight his own inner need of her? Dear God, he was hard and ready for her right now.

  Lark stared at his thick shaft, unable to tear her gaze away from it. A strange new sensation twisted through her lower body, the ache sharp, exquisite. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Sure?”

  “Well, maybe a little.”

  Matt slowly rose to a kneeling position in the center of the bed. He spread his thighs wide and brought Lark between his legs. She knelt before him, her lashes against her cheeks, and gently he cradled her face, forcing her chin upward.

  “Look at me,” he commanded quietly. She opened her eyes and he saw that the smoky blueness now flashed with golden flecks of fire. “You’re my woman,” he promised her thickly, running his fingers through her black hair. He began gently kneading her scalp, watching her eyes close from the unexpected pleasure. “Touching one another like this is good, my golden cougar. We should give one another pleasure, not pain. Yes, enjoy it….” And he captured her mouth, fire singing through him.