by Nan Ryan
28
And then he stood framed in the doorway. Suzette looked at him and found it impossible to turn away. His soiled Stetson rode low on his high forehead. His shirt, blue-and-white-checked cotton, was stained with dark circles of perspiration and was open down his mahogany chest. A navy-blue silk bandanna was tied around his gleaming throat. Tight trousers fit his long, lean legs like a second skin, while around his trim hips his gunbelt rode low. His boots were caked with caliche mud.
Suzette’s gaze, after slowly moving down his long frame, went again to his face. His dark, penetrating eyes were on her and there was almost a smile on his lean face—but not quite. He was dirty from head to toe; his thick hair and his long eyelashes were powdered with dust. Even the soaring cheekbones were smudged with dirt, and the stubbly growth of dark beard looked scratchy. Obviously he had ridden hard and fast to get home. For the first time since she’d known him, Kaytano was unclean, so it made little sense to Suzette that her stomach fluttered in the most unsettling manner.
What was it about him that made her long to fling herself against the dirty hardness of him and kiss his dusty face? She wanted to cast aside his sweat-stained Stetson and run her fingers through the thick black hair until there was no dust left in the luxuriant locks. How she yearned to lick the dust from that sensual mouth until she felt him weaken and kiss her as no man had ever done. She longed to nuzzle her face into the glistening brown throat, to inhale the masculine scent of him and feel the long, sinewy arms come around her, crushing her helplessly to the unwashed length of him. Guiltily she envisioned herself helping strip away the soiled clothing he wore. She would pull the sweat-stained shirt down over his muscled shoulders and long arms and cast it aside. She would stand in front of him and easily unbutton those tight dirty trousers and deftly peel them down his long legs, stooping in front of him while she took off the muddy boots and pants. On her knees, she would look up at his raw masculinity, a servant with her master. She, eager to please, wanting only to serve and satisfy the dark, dangerous man standing naked above her.
Suzette felt a chill run up her spine, but her cheeks grew hot with shame. Guilt flooded over her. She was humiliated that such wanton ideas would pop into her head, but she was powerless to fight them.
Kaytano was walking toward her. She prayed he couldn’t read her mind. Unable to tear her eyes from his, she stood rigidly, her knees locked, until he was standing so close to her she could have touched him.
Softly he said, “I hope you’ll forgive my appearance. I’m too dirty to be in your presence, but I was eager to return. I’m going down to Terlingua to bathe now.”
His black eyes narrowing slightly, he looked down at himself, took off his hat, and tossed it onto a chair, then ran a hand through his disheveled hair. A small bead of perspiration started a path through the dust on his face. Fascinated, Suzette watched as it made its slow descent over the taut cheek and finally came to rest at the left corner of his chapped upper lip. Kaytano raised a hand to brush the droplet aside at the exact instant that Suzette put her fingers up to wipe it away. Her hand touched his face first. His closed over hers and a look came into his dark eyes that was so strangely intense it scared her.
“I’m…sorry,” she stammered. She tried to snatch her hand away, but his long fingers were around her wrist. “I shouldn’t have done that. I wasn’t thinking.” Her eyes remained on his and she began to tremble.
“You’ve never touched me before. Why would you pick a time when I’m so unkempt?”
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “It was impulsive.”
His dark eyes holding hers captive, he said, “Suzette, lick your fingers.” As if in a trance, she obeyed. She moistened the tips of her fingers and watched as he brought her wet fingers back to his mouth. “Now,” he said hoarsely, “wash my mouth.” With her damp fingertips, Suzette gently traced his sculptured lips while he looked at her through thick black lashes.
When she felt herself swaying, he must have felt it, too. The hand on her wrist immediately went to her waist to steady her.
Then he abruptly released her and took a step backward. “Thank you,” he said, unsmiling. “I’ll leave you now.” When he reached the door, he turned. “Maria and the boys are planning a celebration tonight. Will you dance with me?” And suddenly Kaytano smiled, a shy, boyish, endearing smile. Suzette felt her heart pound with delight.
“I can hardly wait to dance with you,” she whispered. She watched him walk away from her, his catlike stride graceful. She rushed to the window to watch him make his way through the sun-baked courtyard, shouting to the men relaxing in the late-afternoon warmth. A streak of gun-metal gray fur shot across his path. Without breaking stride, Kaytano scooped the cat up into his arms, stroking and murmuring to the happy animal. Suzette felt an unsettling warmth spreading through her. How she envied that cat!
Suzette was glad she’d washed her clothes earlier that day. They smelled fresh and clean, and although for the first time she wished that she had a pretty, feminine dress to wear, she knew the trousers fit her well and accentuated the shapeliness of her legs. She would wear the soft white blouse Maria had given her. It was dainty and pretty, and it would make her feel more like a woman.
Suzette sat cross-legged on her narrow bed and brushed her damp, tangled hair. She’d borrowed some sweet-smelling soap from Maria and scrubbed at her head until her hair squeaked and her scalp was pink. Now she was apprehensive. Would her hair be dry in time for the party? Would she have to remain in the small room while the festivities began without her? Suzette lowered the brush and shook her head.
What has gotten into me? I’m as excited as a young girl, but I’m going to a dance with a bunch of outlaws. Have I completely lost my mind? Is it madness that I look forward to being turned about the floor in Kaytano’s arms? Again a flush spread over her neck and face, a warmth caused by the prospect of dancing close to the tall, lean Kaytano. She was looking forward to it. She could hardly wait.
Suzette, in her tight pants and white peasant blouse, stood nervously twisting a rebellious lock of blond hair. She peered into the cracked mirror above the washstand to check her appearance. Relieved that the heavy hair had finally dried, she had brushed it until it danced with fiery highlights and lay about her creamy neck and shoulders in soft, lustrous waves.
Suzette’s eyes went from her hair down to the white blouse. She frowned and bit her lip. The white batiste blouse, though lovely and feminine and embroidered with soft blue thread, was not opaque enough to ensure modesty. Its soft gathers accented high, firm breasts. Sighing, she decided she couldn’t possibly wear the blouse with nothing underneath. She had started across the room to get the plaid shirt when the door opened and Kaytano stepped inside.
He leaned against the door and eyed her coolly. “Are you ready?”
“I…I…thought I’d change my blouse,” she stammered, looking into the deep, dark eyes.
“No,” he said evenly. “Wear the one you have on. You look like a woman. Come.”
Without another word, Suzette walked to him and they went out into the adjoining room. Against the far wall, a wooden table groaned under a mountain of food. Maria, grinning from ear to ear, presided over the food. Kaytano took Suzette by the wrist and led her to the table. Maria’s eyes lifted when the handsome young couple stepped up to the table.
“Suzette!” she exclaimed, pressing her chubby hands to her face. “How beautiful you are! All my men will want to dance with you.” She giggled, then looked up at a scowling Kaytano and quickly corrected herself. “You are lucky, you have most handsome man of all. The others will have to content themselves with me.” She laughed harder and Suzette laughed with her. Kaytano didn’t smile.
She ate so much she thought she’d burst the seams of the tight trousers she wore, so she pushed her plate aside and sighed. Kaytano, eating quietly beside her, asked politely, “Shall I fix you another plate?”
“No, no,” she protested, holding up a
hand. “I can’t eat another bite. Maria is a great cook.”
Kaytano nodded and pushed his plate away. “Then let’s go out where it is cooler.” He rose from the bench and took her elbow.
“But…” She looked up at him in surprise. “Don’t you want me to help clean up? I mean, I—”
“No,” was all he said as his hands went to her waist and he lifted her over the long, low bench. Suzette gave him no argument. Together they went out into the courtyard. Men, women, and children milled about in the dusty yard, carrying plates of food, talking, smoking, and drinking whiskey in the soft twilight. Suzette paused and felt a firm hand at her waist, urging her forward.
They walked past the circles of people, leaving the lighted building behind them. At the gates, Kaytano nodded to the guard and the smiling man threw back the bolts, swinging open the gates. Apprehension tickled Suzette’s neck. Where were they going?
Her uneasiness vanished quickly. As soon as they were outside, Kaytano went directly to a flat, gypsum rock and sat down. Knees bent, he reached inside his breast pocket and took out a long, thin cigar. “Will you sit beside me?” He looked up at her as he placed the cigar between his teeth.
Suzette sat down near him, tucking her feet underneath her. She watched as Kaytano puffed the cigar to life, the red tip lighting his dark, handsome features. He drew in the smoke and lazily blew it out, expertly forming a perfectly round smoke ring. As if he wanted her approval, he turned his dark head to her.
She smiled. “You’re very good.” She paused and lowered her eyes. “I’ve always wanted to try, but I never—”
“Try now.” He thrust the lighted cigar to her.
“Oh, I couldn’t. Lord, I’ve never smoked in my life. I would—”
“There’s nothing to it,” he assured her. “Here. Put the cigar between your lips.”
Suzette laughed and took the black cigar from his hand, cautiously placing it between her lips. “Now what?”
“Draw very, very slowly on it, pulling the smoke down into your lungs.” His brown hand went to the middle of her chest and pressed her lightly. “Inhale until you feel the smoke come to where my hand is touching you.”
Her blue eyes wide, she drew on the cigar and held in the smoke as long as she possibly could. Which wasn’t very long. It exploded from her mouth and she began to cough violently. Kaytano grabbed the cigar, tossed it to the dirt, and jerked Suzette to her feet. “Raise your arms,” he commanded and pushed her hands high above her head. “Better?”
Unable to speak, she nodded her head furiously as tears rolled down her cheeks. Gently Kaytano lowered her shaky arms, and with his hands on her bare shoulders, he gently pulled her back against him. All at once she was touching him from shoulders to toes and the contact made her head spin. Never before had he touched her, except to take hold of her wrist or her waist to lead her somewhere. She shivered as she stood pressed against him, amazed by the rock-hard chest and thighs and by the incredible heat his body exuded. Timidly Suzette laid her head back against his shoulder. His brown, smooth cheek was only an inch from her temple. She could feel his warm breath on her hair. His hands remained on her shoulders; they hadn’t moved at all.
“Suzette?” His voice sounded thick, heavy.
“I’m fine,” she whispered.
His hands dropped from her and he moved away. She turned to look up at him. “We’d better get back,” he said. “The dancing will be starting.” His black, glittery eyes were unreadable as always.
“Yes, let’s go.” She turned and realized it had grown dark. Kaytano silently took her hand and held it in his as they walked back to the stockade.
“Kaytano.”
“Yes?”
“May I try again sometime? I promise I won’t cough.”
“You may do anything you please.”
The dancing had begun. Suzette and Kaytano stood along the wall watching the merrymakers. Three or four Mexican women had come into camp with the men. Two of them were young and quite pretty and they cast long, inviting looks at the handsome Kaytano. If he noticed, he gave no indication and they had to content themselves with dancing with his men. The women were kept very busy, for they were greatly outnumbered. Men even danced with one another as they consumed great quantities of liquor. More than one lusty outlaw looked at Suzette with thinly disguised hunger, but no one dared approach her. They considered her Kaytano’s woman and would have been surprised to learn the relationship was not what it appeared.
“Shall we?” Kaytano asked, his eyes on Suzette’s mouth.
“Let’s do.” She grinned up at him and felt a tremor of excitement when he took her elbow and led her onto the floor. That excitement grew alarmingly when Kaytano pulled her into his embrace. Again she was astounded by the hardness of his long, lean body. She put her arm around his neck and shyly let her fingers slide up into the thick, dark hair flowing about his white collar. Her other hand rested on the hard wall of his chest, and under her sensitive fingertips Suzette would have sworn his heavy heartbeat changed its steady rhythm.
There was no doubt that hers did. It was beating wildly and she wondered if he could feel it pounding against his chest. She tipped her head back to look up at him. His dark eyes were studying her and she found it impossible to breathe. Slowly the lean hand at her waist slid up over her back to the nape of her neck. Kaytano bent his head, pressing his smooth cheek to hers, holding her tighter, closer in his arms. His feet never missed a beat. An expert dancer, he glided slowly about the floor as gracefully as he did everything. Suzette easily followed his pleasingly sensuous movements.
They danced and danced. When they paused to rest, Kaytano led Suzette to a bench along the wall, insisting she let him bring wine to her. She never thought of declining. She drank the strong red wine, matching him glass for glass until she felt giddy and hot and happy. Back on the dance floor, they ignored the others in the noisy room. Suzette, both arms looped around Kaytano’s neck, leaned back in the circle of his arms and looked up at him. His eyes were on her, but not on her face. He was looking down at the soft gathers of her blouse stretching over her breasts. The close, intoxicating contact with the dark sensual man had brought about the usual reaction from her pliant woman’s body. Her nipples, hard and aroused, were standing out, their taut pink tips visible through the soft, thin batiste. Flushing hotly, she looked back at Kaytano. His dark eyes held an unmistakable look of desire. His mouth parted and he licked his full bottom lip.
Suzette, feeling faint, whispered, “Kaytano.”
He said nothing, but gently pressed her closer to him, hiding from other eyes what he had seen. She clung to him and wondered what he was thinking as she buried her face in his shoulder and inhaled the unique masculine odor of his heated flesh.
It was well past midnight when Kaytano looked at her and said, “Are you ready for bed?”
29
Suzette slipped out of her clothes and folded them neatly, then put them under Kaytano’s pillow. She got into her narrow bed and pulled the sheet up to her shoulders. The music and laughter from the outer room made sleep impossible. Suzette knew that even without the noise she could not have slept. It was stuffy and warm in the small room; the still night air stirred the sheer curtains over the one window not at all. And the bright moonlight was another distraction. The moon’s silvery beams slanted in through the window across her bed.
The moonlight and heat were only partially responsible for her restlessness. She was very disappointed that Kaytano did not come to bed when she did. It was insane, she knew, but it was a fact. Exhausted from the big meal and dancing and singing, she’d gladly nodded her head yes when he’d leaned down to ask if she were ready to go to bed. He helped her to her feet and walked with her to the door of their room. He had released her elbow and then said good-night. Before she could speak, he had turned and was making his way to the back door. She had no choice but to enter their room alone. There was a time when she would have been grateful for the privacy, a tim
e when his sleeping so close to her caused her great anguish, a time when she’d been terrified he would harm her.
But he never had. Kaytano had never touched her in all the months of sleeping in the same small room with her. All the nights of knowing she lay naked in the bed next to his. Eventually she had relaxed in his presence. It had become almost normal to come into the room with him, to undress in the darkness and hand him her clothing. More than one night she had fallen into her bed, slumber overtaking her the moment her head hit the pillow, as though Kaytano were her husband and she was safe with him beside her.
Suzette sighed and raised her arms over her head, turning her face toward the door. Instinctively she strained, trying to pick out Kaytano’s deep, resonant voice above the music. It was impossible. He had headed for the door.
Where was he going? Would he come back tonight? Did he plan to meet one of the pretty Mexican girls who had looked so longingly at him all evening? Suzette winced at the thought. Two of the women were darkly pretty; did Kaytano find them attractive? Was he at this moment out in the moonlight with one of them? Were those arms that had held her closely now wrapped around another woman? Would a pretty señorita have the kisses she longed for? Would Kaytano spend the night with one of the girls?
Suzette shut her eyes and sighed. For the thousandth time she tried to understand the dark, dangerous Kaytano. He was most surely cold and evil; yet, with Maria’s children he was as tender and gentle as a man could be. His men respected him, even loved him. Pancho told her he loved Kaytano as a son, that the dark young man was brave, that his life had been saved by the daring and honorable half-breed.
And with her? From the beginning he had been cold to her, but never cruel. Never had he hurt her. Now, after months of looking at her through those hooded eyes while she wondered what he was thinking, his eyes softened on occasion. More than once she had looked up to find him quietly observing her, his black eyes warm. And the day the snake struck her, he looked at her with tenderness. The indifference he’d displayed when she first came into camp was less evident.
