She moved to the door dazedly, suddenly wishing she’d not lost her temper and taunted him. Alex Ben Raschid in this mood was a very dangerous man.
As she turned the knob of the door, he spoke behind her. “Oh, Sabrina,” he said softly, almost absently, “beginning now, you’re mine. I don’t really care whether you acknowledge it or not, but if you let any other man so much as hold your hand, I promise you that you’ll regret it.”
The chill of steel sheathed in warm velvet … that’s how his voice sounded, she realized, a shiver racing up her spine. She closed the door quietly behind her.
“How long are we going to stay here, Bree?” David asked hesitantly, a troubled frown creasing his forehead. He leaned against the trunk of a cottonwood tree and tipped his Stetson farther back on his head.
“Hold still, love,” Sabrina commanded absently, her charcoal pencil moving rapidly across the sketch pad. “We’ve only been here for a little over a week.” She glanced up with swift concern. “I thought you were having a wonderful time.”
“I just think it’s time for us to leave,” David said haltingly.
Sabrina slowly closed the sketch pad and put it on the grass beside her. “Why, David?”
His sapphire gaze was fixed thoughtfully on the lacy pattern of the leaves above his head. “I just think it’s time,” he said huskily.
Something was definitely troubling him, and Sabrina had a good idea what it was. She’d been conscious of the strain since the moment they’d arrived. It would have been too much to hope that David wouldn’t be even more aware than she. “Is it your father?” she probed gently.
“No.” He smiled wistfully. “It’s been fun being with Dad and working the ranch together like we did before.” He was silent for a long moment. “It’s Mother, Bree.”
“She loves you very much, David.”
“I know,” he said. “I know she does. But I’m hurting her.” His eyes fastened gravely on Sabrina’s face. “Sometimes I can almost feel her pain and that hurts me, too. Why am I hurting her, Bree?”
“It’s very complicated, love,” Sabrina said throatily, looking away from him evasively. “Perhaps it only needs time to make it right.”
“I don’t think so,” he said, biting his lip. “When she looks at me, it’s as if she’s searching for something and not finding it.” His face clouded. “I try to be there for her, Bree, and sometimes for a moment or two I think I really am.” He shrugged helplessly. “But then it slips away.”
What could she say? She’d seen that expression on Sue’s face and knew what David meant. How could she tell him it was the son who’d perhaps vanished forever his mother was searching for? His mother had been wrong in thinking she was ready to accept this stranger-child, and after a week Sabrina had doubts she would ever make the adjustment. It had been a mistake coming back to the ranch even for a visit.
“We’ll only be staying a few more days,” she said. She stood up and dusted off her jeans. “Will you be glad to get back to Gino and Angelina and all your flowers?”
He brightened immediately. “Yes.” Then he frowned. “I hope Miranda’s okay.”
“Gino wouldn’t let anything happen to any of your plants,” Sabrina said comfortingly. She picked up her pencil and sketch pad. “Come on, lazybones. We’ve got to get back to the ranch. We’re supposed to go to that party at Juan Mendoza’s this evening.”
David got obediently to his feet. “Do I have to go, Bree?” He sighed as he trailed behind her to the tree where the horses were tied.
“Your parents don’t ask much of us,” Sabrina said. “Juan Mendoza is a very important man in the Cattleman’s Association and the biggest rancher in the valley. I don’t think Jess wants to offend him.”
“Okay,” David said absently, lifting his head to look at the rapidly darkening sky to the east. “It looks like we’re going to get a real gully-washer.”
“That’s good isn’t it, after that drought all last summer?”
He was still frowning uneasily at the rapidly building thunderheads. “Maybe,” he answered. “Dad says the drought caused erosion along the river, and we’ve been getting an awful lot of rain lately. The river is almost over the banks now.”
He gave her a leg up, then mounted himself and rode swiftly up the hill. Sabrina followed more slowly and paused for a moment on the rise. The wind swept through the cottonwoods. It stirred the tall grasses and caused an uneasy shiver in the mare she was riding. She patted the horse’s neck, murmuring soothingly while she took in the sight of the lowering sky and a flash of lightning in the distance. Storms had always excited her; she felt a strange exhilaration that was close to the primitive.
With a kick she sent the mare racing after David’s chestnut, tearing over the ground, passing David with a low laugh. “I’ll see you at the house,” she shouted, and the distance was covered in a matter of minutes. She reined in at the stable, competently unsaddled the mare, and put out feed and water. Then she ran up the porch steps and into the house.
Sue Bradford came hurrying into the hall from the general direction of the kitchen, a worried frown on her face. Tall, brown-haired and slim, she had always possessed a youthful vitality and cheerful enthusiasm. It was painfully disconcerting to see the expression of haunted sadness that had aged her so drastically in the past two years.
“I’m glad you’re back,” she said. “Jess just left for the south basin bordering the river. He wants David to join him as soon as possible. They’re predicting a storm that will cause the river to crest and very likely flood the basin. The herd will have to be moved.”
Sabrina turned at once toward the door. “David’s probably at the stable by now. I’ll go after him and we’ll both ride out right away.”
Sue was shaking her head. “Jess said to only send David. He has Pete Donaldson and Jake Montieth helping out. Thank God for neighbors you can count on in times like these.” Her lips curved wryly. “Believe it or not, Jess wants you to go on to Mendoza’s party. He’s afraid of offending the great man if one of us doesn’t attend.”
“Jess wants me to go to a party when we may lose the south herd?” Sabrina asked incredulously.
Sue shrugged. “Don’t ask me to fathom that man’s thinking,” she said dryly. “I’ve only had thirty-four years to work on it.”
Sabrina shook her head. “It’s crazy. Are you supposed to go the party and fiddle while Rome burns, too?”
Sue shook her head. “He knows better than to try to bulldoze me into leaving.” Then she smiled comfortingly. “The situation isn’t as bad as all that, Bree. Shifting the herd shouldn’t take more than a few hours. I only want to be here to make sure they have dry clothes and hot food waiting when they straggle in like drowned rats.”
“Then let me do that, Sue,” Sabrina said stubbornly. “I don’t even know Señor Mendoza very well.”
The older woman reached out to shake her arm reprovingly. “Now stop arguing and do what you’re told, Bree,” she scolded with an affectionate grin. “You’ve got your assignment and I’ve got mine. All you have to do is make an appearance, present our apologies, and socialize for an hour or so. Now run along and get dressed while I go send David out to the basin.” She turned and strode briskly out the screen door.
Sabrina grimaced ruefully as she mounted the stairs to the second floor. There was nothing she could do but accede to their requests, but she wasn’t going to stay at Mendoza’s party longer than absolutely necessary. It just might be the fastest duty appearance on record.
When she’d showered and washed her hair, she studied the clothes in her closet critically. She hadn’t brought much with her, but there was one that might do, a sleeveless peach jersey sheath with a bateau neck that was deceptively modest in front but slashed to the waist in back. The warm peach shade showed off her tan and accented the flame of her loose, gleaming hair. She slipped into bone high-heeled sandals, and used a minimum of makeup—peach lip gloss, a touch of mascara, a brush of powder. Gl
ancing casually into the full-length mirror, she decided that she would do. The Mendozas wouldn’t be concerned with the appearance of such an unimportant guest anyway.
When she came downstairs, Sue was standing in the hall with an umbrella in her hand and a raincoat over her arm. “You’re going to need these,” she said briskly, and as if on cue there came a low rumble of thunder. “It’s been pouring for the past fifteen minutes.”
Sabrina slipped on the raincoat and belted it around her slim middle. “You’re sure you want me to do this?”
“I’m sure,” Sue said firmly, as she handed Sabrina the umbrella. “The keys are in the station wagon. You’d better not chance taking your Volkswagen in weather like this. Tell Consuela Mendoza I’ll call her tomorrow.” Then she added with a frown, “Be careful crossing the river. The county supervisors have been going to replace that bridge with an elevated one for the past five years, but they’ve never gotten around to it.”
Sabrina nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll watch it.” She hesitated, drawing a deep breath. “Sue, I’ve been meaning to tell you. David and I will be leaving soon. I have to find work and he shouldn’t be away from Dr. Swanson for too long.”
For a moment there was a flicker of unmistakable relief on Sue Bradford’s face; seeing it, Sabrina’s heart ached. Then it was gone and Sue was saying quietly, “Perhaps you’re right. We’ll talk about it later, Bree.”
“Right.” Sabrina turned away to keep Sue from seeing the suspicious mistiness in her eyes. “We’ll talk about it later. I just thought you should know.”
She ran to where the station wagon was parked, and in a few minutes she was driving through the storm. The wind whipped against the car in sheets; the windshield wipers were useless. Sabrina tensed with strain as she maneuvered the car almost blindly along the county road that crossed the Concho River.
As she approached the river the visibility improved and the rain slowed to just a steady downpour. It was only while she was actually crossing the bridge that Sabrina felt any real misgivings. The river was not yet out of its banks but it was dangerously close, and the engorged waters were already even with the floor of the bridge. Then she was across the span and was able to relax for the remaining ten-mile drive to the Mendoza ranch.
Her eyes widened as she drove into the flagstone courtyard and took in the fountain and the imposing bulk of the white stucco Spanish mansion. The gracious hacienda was as remote from the homey comfort of the Bradford ranch as it was possible to get.
At the front entrance the car door was opened immediately by a young, white-clad Mexican servant carrying a large black umbrella. Then she was shepherded into the brilliantly lit entrance alcove and the doors were ceremoniously opened by another smiling servant, who divested her of her rainwear and escorted her to her host.
Señor Mendoza shook Sabrina’s hand warmly. “It is such a pleasure for my wife and me to welcome you to our home,” he said cordially. A small, plump man, he was dressed faultlessly in a dark, tailored business suit and gray silk tie. He looked more like a Wall Street banker than a prosperous rancher, Sabrina thought. The woman beside him, equally cosmopolitan, was thin with high, elegant cheekbones and silver wings in her stylishly coiffed dark hair. Her black dress had the understated elegance of an original.
“Jess and Sue send their apologies, Señor Mendoza,” Sabrina said politely. “They were unable to come due to an emergency at the ranch.”
Mendoza nodded understandingly. “The storm, yes? I hope it’s nothing serious.”
She shook her head. “Merely a precaution. Jess felt the south-basin herd should be shifted. He and David are doing it now.”
“A sound move,” Mendoza agreed. “I’m desolate that my friend Jess was unable to be here, but we feel fortunate he was able to send such a lovely deputy.”
Señora Mendoza’s cool hand, held out in gracious greeting, didn’t convey the same sense of welcome, Sabrina thought, though her murmured acknowledgment was cordial enough.
“Come let me introduce you to our other guests.” Señor Mendoza took Sabrina’s arm and ushered her into a dimly lit lounge, elegantly decorated in various shades of blue.
There were perhaps fifty people clustered around the room. Soft music came over a stereo system, and a waiter with a tray of drinks circled unobtrusively. For the next fifteen minutes Mendoza acted the conscientious host, introducing her with scrupulous courtesy to his obviously affluent, elegantly dressed guests.
The center of the lounge had been cleared for dancing and Sabrina found no lack of partners as the evening progressed. She especially enjoyed the attentions of Jaime Mendoza, a dark, solemn young man in his early twenties, whom the Señor had introduced with some pride as his only son. Sabrina found Jaime as courteous and charming as his father, if a little lacking in humor, and rather boyishly entranced by her red hair. She was beginning to wonder if she’d stayed long enough to fulfill the duty Sue had imposed, when there was a sudden stir at the door. She glanced casually in that direction, but as there were several people blocking the way she couldn’t determine the cause of the disturbance.
She turned her wandering attention back to Jaime, with whom she’d been dancing, but his attention had also been distracted. “My father’s guest of honor has finally arrived,” he announced. “His private jet was delayed by the storm.”
“Really,” Sabrina replied disinterestedly. The arrival of another of Señor Mendoza’s business associates was hardly earthshaking.
But the new arrival seemed to hold a fascination for Jaime. “He is a very important man. My father was flattered when he requested advice on purchasing commercial property in this area.”
Sabrina nodded politely. “I’m sure your father’s advice would be invaluable to any businessman.”
“That is true,” Jaime agreed seriously. “He’s considered quite shrewd.”
Sabrina hid a smile. Ahh, the self-importance of the young.
“Pardon me, Señor Mendoza, I believe your father would like to speak to you.” The low drawl stopped her breath and froze her blood. She stopped dancing so suddenly that Jaime looked down at her in surprise.
He turned to the man standing beside them. “Mr. Ben Raschid!” he exclaimed, smiling ingratiatingly, though obviously at a loss as to why so illustrious a guest would deliver a message ordinarily sent by a servant.
Alex Ben Raschid nodded in acknowledgment, and with one smooth movement pulled Sabrina out of the young man’s arms and into his own. “You wouldn’t want to leave the lady alone in the middle of the dance floor,” he said, smiling wickedly. Jaime stood looking at them for a moment, only daring the slightest expression of suspicion to touch his features before turning and going in search of his father.
Alex propelled Sabrina’s stiff body around the dance floor. The low voices of the other guests, the clink of glasses, the music, all seemed to exist outside her frame of reference. Her body moved mechanically in time with his; her mind was numb.
As if angry at her lack of response, Alex’s arms tightened around her waist and she was pulled so close to him she could feel every line of his taut, masculine body as they moved to the music. His face was buried in her hair and she could feel his warm breath in her ear. “You’ve caused me a great deal of trouble, you know,” he murmured, his hand rubbing sensuous circles in the small of her back.
She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I assume this is not a coincidence.”
“Hardly,” he said, sounding quite amused.
“How did you know where to find me?” She threw back her head to look into his face.
“You were in the Mendoza box at the rodeo. I discovered from your friend Angelina that you and your lover had left town. She refused to tell me any more than that. The rest was a matter of probing and maneuvering.”
“At which, I haven’t a doubt, you’re a past master.”
“Yes,” he said coolly, “I am.”
“Then your investigation—excuse me, your ‘probing,’ as you
put it—must have brought to light the fact that Jess Bradford isn’t one of my lovers! I’m sorry to prove your assessment of my character wrong in this case. I’m sure it must have been a big disappointment to you.”
“Jess Bradford may not be on your list,” he growled, “but his son is evidently retaining his place in your affections.” His hand tightened on her waist. “Are you still sleeping with him?”
“You bastard,” Sabrina said deliberately. “I’m here because I want to be here, and it’s no business of yours what I do.” Her lips twisted. “Though I must admit you made it easier to come to a decision. I suddenly found I had a good deal of free time on my hands, thanks to your intervention.”
“You know I would have given you a job,” he said roughly. “You didn’t have to run away with that damned cowboy.” His dark eyes narrowed as he took in the angry emerald of her eyes, the defiant tilt of her chin. “But you weren’t running away with him were you, Sabrina?” he asked slowly. “You were running away from me. I frightened you in the office that day.”
“No!” she snapped. He must never know that the real source of her fear of him was the power he held over her emotions. He had weapons enough in the battle being waged between them. She would not provide him with additional ammunition.
“I think ‘yes,’ ” he said consideringly, his gaze raking her face, weighing the quivering lips and the uncertainty that lay behind the defiance in her eyes. “I meant to frighten you,” he said. “Not enough to make you run away, just enough to keep you out of anyone else’s bed until I’d gotten you into mine. You reacted a bit more strongly than I’d gauged.”
“Why should I be frightened of you?” she asked shakily, her brave façade crumbling under the driving force of his personality. “I’m my own person. I have my own thoughts and my own goals. I run my life to suit myself, Alex Ben Raschid.”
The Trustworthy Redhead Page 8
