She arched a dark red brow briefly. “You are a charmer, aren’t you?”
Dono figured a straightforward approach with her was his smartest move, given his mermaid-lovely wife hadn’t removed her gaze. Nope, she hadn’t backed down one iota as they eyed each other, almost like combatants.
“I’m hopin’ like a son of a gun to charm you, Kylie.”
Not answering, she steadily observed him. Long moments ticked by before Dono leaned toward her on impulse. He touched the corner of her mouth with his fingertip where a biscuit flake had lodged. She jumped, then stilled, controlling her reflexes quick as a cat.
“Any excuse to touch you, Kylie.”
Dono felt his gaze burn as he looked at her. He knew he wanted to sear himself inside her. Reining himself down to a slower pace, he showed her the flake on his fingertip. She flicked her gaze away, lifting her shoulders to deal with the stiffness of her body.
Wiping his finger on a napkin, Dono appreciated the supple loveliness of her body, already envisioning the passionate dance of her fairy-beautiful flesh against him as they loved on each other.
“So.” She planted her elbow, and rested her chin on her palm. “What kind of wife do you want?”
Dono reared back in utter surprise, not so much from the fact that she’d asked, but from her directness. Yep, he suddenly stared eye-to-eye with a she-wolf who wanted to know what he planned to do in her territory.
For once, he stilled inside, flummoxed as to how he should charm a woman. He possessed no answer that wouldn’t raise her hackles. He considered asking what kind of wife she wanted to be.. Hell’s thrown blade, he had no clue that she even wanted to be a wife.
Setting aside his plate, he leaned on his elbows, more closely meeting her unblinking gaze. “Besides acts of marital passion?” he began. She flushed so red it would have made a virgin proud. “I want a wife to spend Saturday nights with, dancin’ and enjoyin’ the other entertainments in El Paso. I want a soft wife I can hold onto for a while after a long day’s work on the ranch.”
Dono searched for those daydreams where he pretended to have a wife. “I want a kiss in the morning before I leave the house. I want a woman who listens to my dreams for the ranch. I want to sit and listen to her dreams for the future.” He smiled at his own sentimentality. “I want to watch my wife movin’ around the house and know she belongs to me.”
Mists from a cool summer morning crept into her aquamarine eyes. Wandering around in them Dono made a rookie mistake. “What are your dreams, Kylie?”
Pain, like he’d only witnessed in those who were severely injured, enlarged her pupils, turning her eyes into dark holes he could fall into and disappear. For unbearable moments, she became catatonic. Snatching up the jar of honey, he dipped his finger in and shoved it between her lips. Responding automatically, her tongue swiped at the honey.
“Kylie.” He tried to reach inside her with his voice. “Damn, I don’t want to put you beneath a cold shower. Talk to me. Tell me what a prize-fool, fatheaded idiot I am. Anything.”
Something flickered in her gaze, a sign of life. “Dreams.” The word drifted like a lost wraith from her lips.
“Kylie, I didn’t think. I didn’t think about what you’ve lost. Arriving here from a different Earth.”
“You don’t know what I’ve lost.”
An animated doll, that’s what she resembled. Dono kicked himself a hundred times and figured he should let a mustang stallion give him a good hoof lashing also. He was supposed to be finding out what she liked and letting her know her needs and wants were important to them.
“No, I don’t know, Kylie.”
Using his mental intention, he flashed his words like a lasso toward her soul, and silently prayed. The loop settled, and he watched more life appear in her eyes. A fragile hope that he might really care caused he to gaze at him, again.
“The Dream Killers.”
This time her words floated to him, eerie and intense.
Chapter Seventeen
Rider Number Two, Dono Scores
“The Dream Killers?”
Dono tried to pierce beyond the glaze still covering her eyes. Something had terrorized her like a mountain lion shaking a rabbit. Only the rabbit had somehow escaped being a meal.
“While I was driving, I did a lot of thinking about how and why things are turning so bad,” she drew in a slight breath, “on my Earth. Why what happened to me happened. Why similar horrible things are happening to lots of good people.”
“You told Dillon what you went through, didn’t you?” Dono softly asked.
She nodded once. “He knows.”
“Why has it turned bad, Kylie?”
“I call them the Dream Killers. Those people who destroy others, and destroy their dreams, while pretending not to, because they are so little inside and so insecure.” She shook herself, breaking her own spell. “Not that most people consciously realize that’s what they’re doing. Some do, though, the evil ones.” Hunching her shoulders, she looked away for a moment, then peered at his expression.
Dono pondered on what she’d revealed, rubbing his chin. “Texas is gettin’ too big for its britches. Those were the infamous words of our own senator, LBJ, when our sovereign state movement began. No one still livin’ in Texas ever forgave him. It’s the battle cry we use in trainin’ for military operations.”
“Do you mean LBJ, the vice president of John Kennedy, who became president when Kennedy was assassinated?”
“Johnson was president on your Earth?”
She nodded solemnly.
“Yup, he would he was slated to be VP to Kennedy, if they’d won the election.”
“What happened to Kennedy and Johnson?”
Her real interest captivated him. “Kennedy was elected the next term and assassinated. There’d been a nasty political battle to recall LBJ from Washington, and he was taken off the ticket. Folks in Texas had gotten out the tar and feathers ’cause he’d clearly made his bed in D.C. He was lying in it like the big boss dog, not carin’ about the state.
“Afterwards, Johnson was smart enough to stay out of Texas proper. One day, his mistress found him, dead and colder than locker beef, a bullet between his eyes.”
“Who killed him?”
Dono gave a slight shrug. “The FBI tried to convict several low-level members in the sovereign movement, using the press as judge and jury first. But stories would break from other sources provin’ their innocence. There were court trials. Never went nowhere, though. The judges knew better. A lot of Texans protested the trials, hanging ropes in their hands.
“The FBI spokesman would grandstand, spinnin’ it to look like a terrible miscarriage of justice. Course, he turned tail and ran when his house was barraged with women banging on pots and pans.”
“Ever find out who did turn him into locker beef?”
“Nope. None of us want to know.”
“You have a suspicion, though.”
She gave him the mare’s eye, as Dono called it, the one that meant “I’ll know if you try any nonsense.”
Dono hesitated. “Yep. We all got our suspicions in Texas. But what ya don’t know, they can’t find out. Besides, sweetheart, a whole lot of us Texans considered LBJ’s actions to be traitorous.”
She gave a thoughtful nod. “If he didn’t represent the citizens, why wouldn’t he be a traitor?”
“Nail square on the head.” Dono kept his gaze immersed in hers. “You have eyes like fairy jewels.”
She frowned for seconds. “What does that mean?”
“It means your eyes are bright as jewels and have a supernatural luminosity, little Kylie.”
She tossed her fiery cap of hair as if to deny his words. “Read poetry, do you?”
Dono grinned. “Ladies usually have a fondness for it. I found out early my tongue could speak the silver and gold of words.”
“I can believe that.” She quirked the corner of her mouth, another indication of her sarcasm. “Spare me,
why don’t you?”
“Nope. It’s second nature now. Discovered I like reading certain kinds of poetry just like I have a hankerin’ to enjoy paintings.”
She studied him a moment, her gaze sharp as the knives he practiced throwing. “Yeah, poetry about seducing women and paintings of beautiful women, probably nude women.” Her triumphant posture dared him to lie.
“Bingo.” If Dono had been wearing his Stetson, he would have tipped it to her. “Though, my artistic preferences have grown. I’ll show you a couple of my favorite galleries in El Paso.”
“How many galleries are in El Paso?”
“’Bout ten, my last reckoning. Couple of old-fashioned bookstores, too. One of them collects old volumes of poetry. These days, most every book written is in the Texas cyber library. And only newly written books are hardbound or softbound.”
“Using hemp, no doubt.”
Dono gave a brief nod. “Why is that unusual?” He’d responded to her expression.
“Ask your brother. I explained it to him. Why aren’t you growing hemp in the garden?”
“We got a large natural field on the southern edge of our land. That’s all we need for harvest. It pays for the hemp products we use. Especially the seed meal for the horses and cattle. Dash uses the oil in his cookin’ all the time.”
“Cyber library, I wonder how it compares to…” She halted, her gaze soft with speculation. “Never mind, I guess in time I’ll find out.”
Quick on the draw, Dono captured her gaze. “I use it all the time. I’ll show you the ins and outs. It’s a touch complicated at first.”
She confronted him in that direct ways of hers, he was comin’ to know. “What do you use the cyber library for, mostly?”
“Mostly lookin’ up horse breeds all over the world, learnin’ about ’em. I like studying the pedigrees. Plannin’ on purchasing a stud and mare from the Russian Steppes area, a breed sometimes called Akhal-Teke.”
“Why that breed?”
“Their genetic base is ancient, different than our horses. They’re a superior endurance horse, ’specially riding in the mountains. We’d have more range in how far and fast we can travel on horseback.”
“That makes sense, though I’m confused. Why does Dillon have a Tesla car and Dash have a monster hemp pickup? I mean, it seems like the three of you are living in two different worlds.”
“Monster?” Dono cocked his head.
“An expression from my dimension.”
She tossed the explanation to him, even as she flipped her mermaid red hair that would grow into glorious tresses. In anticipation, Dono smiled to himself.
“We do live in two worlds as you say, little Kylie. Our over reliance on technology nearly caused the downfall of the Republic.”
“The border wars,” she uttered thoughtfully.
“Yep. Those of us who knew how to survive on the land prevailed. We continued fighting the Union war machine. Afterwards, a whole dang lot of us figured it was best to keep a boot planted firmly in both worlds. Besides,” he gave her a small grin, “me, Dillon, and Dash wouldn’t want it any other way, lovin’ the land as we do.”
He watched her absorb what he’d told her.
“Did Dillon tell you there ain’t no other way up that side of the mountain, other than on foot or ridin’?”
“Airplane, helicopter?” Her brows raised, her gaze slicing him a good one.
“My ground jet.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s a ground jet?”
Good Lord, am I hoping you do bite during love makin’, darlin’ mermaid.
“It’s a small supersonic-speed jet, developed by top level engineers in the sovereign movement, that can travel high or low to the ground. It handles smooth as ridin’ a mountain lion so you can navigate the terrain. Next time I take Katydid out for a run, I’ll give you a ride.”
Dash caught the flare in her eyes she couldn’t disguise by lowering her lashes. She wanted a ride in Katydid.
“Riding a mountain lion?”
“An expression we use here for sports autos, or any vehicle that maneuvers and handles smooth as silk.” Dono eased his hand toward hers, figuring if he took his time, it wouldn’t spook her. “How about something sweet for dessert?” Gently, he clasped the back of her hand. She didn’t tug away, but she didn’t respond either.
“The sovereign movement, what was that exactly?”
Curiosity fueled her now, let her spirit rekindle itself, and Dono wasn’t about to deny her. “People here wanted their state’s rights back. Like it was originally. And they wanted every Union program disbanded.”
“Union programs?”
“Schools, medical programs. Anything tainted by Union funding.”
“Do you mean like a national database for health care?”
“That was one. Some of our spies found out bio weapons were being designed to genetic specifications, using information on the medical database. If a person’s blood is available, a disease can be cultured to use for assassination.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of that. It’s so frightening I don’t think most people want to know that possibility is real.”
She let him claim more of her hand and Dono rubbed tiny caresses. “It’s gonna be quite a change for you, being here.”
“That’s an understatement.”
There were so many undercurrents of emotion in her dry tone that the strong desire to help her pulled on Dono’s heartstrings. Lightly, he squeezed her hand. Peering into her eyes, he saw just how lost she was, and ached inside for her. Somehow they’d have to make her feel at home, fast as Windrunner, his racehorse, sprinted over the track.
“You never answered.” He flashed a grin. “How about dessert?”
She hissed a sigh while wearily slumping her shoulders. “What do you have?” Her eyes lit up. “Those candy things Dillon had were scrumptious.”
“How about some of those sprinkled over vanilla ice cream?”
Her expression switched to a dubious frown, puzzling him.
“Real ice cream? I mean only made with milk, cream, sugar, and vanilla?”
“Think there are some eggs added. It’s Dillon’s craving, ice cream. Always keeps it on hand, if he can.”
She smiled, radiant as any morning he’d ever witnessed. “Yes, I’d like that for dessert.”
In that moment, Dono realized he’d been captured forever by his wife’s smile. The feminine force of it tripped his heart. He’d observed men trip over their own boots in the presence of a woman they were particularly sweet on. He’d likened it to the trip of their hearts, their feet merely following what their hearts wanted.
Too dazed to return her smile, he released her hand, soft and fragile as the doves he’d freed from traps once the period of starvation had ceased. Stumbling upright, he headed for the cooler.
Dono had always mightily enjoyed pleasing whatever women he’d been with, and not only during their bed passions. He’d go out of his way to delight them with romantic dinners or escort them to any entertainment that made them giddy with happiness.
He knew when it had begun. As a tyke, he’d watched his father pick wildflowers, then gallantly present the bouquet to his mother. When he’d imitated his father, the beaming smile on his mother’s face as she accepted his flowers, and her soft peck on his cheek, had cinched it. She’d never failed him, his mother, always receiving his gifts as if they were exactly what she wanted.
Dono smiled at the memory. He swiped away the errant tear as he flung open the cooler door, using more force than he’d intended. Yup, there it was, the prized tub of vanilla ice cream Dillon kept in his area. Seizing it like a football, he charged for the goal line.
Placing several scoops inside one of their daintier bowls, he sparingly poured the nutritive chocolate on top. Too many would speed up her metabolism beyond a healthy level.
Only because it would melt, Dono ran the tub back inside the cooler, positioning it as it had been. Dillon rarely lost his temper. Wh
en he did, Mount Vesuvius might as well be erupting around them.
“You’re not having any?” Hungrily, her gaze followed the bowl as he set it before her. She scooped in her spoon, lifting a small taste to her lips.
“Nope, had something sweet earlier.” Dono would have said she was his sweetest dessert, but that wouldn’t earn him her favor. Not now.
“Wow, this is good. No wonder Dillon likes it.”
The way she spoke his brother’s name, Dono knew she’d already attached to Dillon as a woman did when the lovemakin’ was good for her. He and Dash had an uphill battle to win her fiercest, most uninhibited passions.
With child-like enthusiasm, she savored each spoonful. Feeling more content than he had in ages, Dono watched her. He’d known for a long while now that a man needed a wife, a mate to share his life.
For a couple of decades, they’d struggled, battling to win independence for Texas, fighting to survive and keep the ranch going, their dreams going. The time had come to enjoy what they’d fought for, would continue fighting for. The time had come to live their dreams.
She settled the spoon in the bowl. “Thanks. That was good.”
“More?”
She shook her head. “I’m full.”
“Then it’s bath time.” Dash strode into the kitchen, his step restrained.
Kylie jumped, trembling before she could get control of herself. Her gaze flew between them, wild and scared as a trapped doe.
“Come on, my mermaid.” Dono slowly extended his hand as an invitation. “I’ll show you where your bathroom is. Dash won’t mind cleanin’ up, will you?” Shooting a meaningful gaze as his brother, Dono hoped like hell their wife would accept his hand.
“Nope, don’t mind. I ran some bath water. Think it’s warm enough, Kylie.”
She glanced at Dash, who stared, struggling with what more he wanted to say.
“Thanks, for making dinner. It was delicious.”
Probably because his brother looked like a big awe-struck kid, her politeness won out over her fear.
“You’re welcome.” Dash remained rigid as a hitching post. “You’re very beautiful, Kylie.” Stiffly, he bowed, then pivoted away, and headed toward the stove.
Branded by the Texans [Three Star Republic] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 16
