Half-Breed's Lady

by Bobbi Smith

  "I am going to remember this trip for the rest of my life," she was saying as she awaited his reaction.

  «WhY?"

  "Because I've had more adventures in the last few days than in all my twenty-three years."

  She sounded so pleased by the thought that he was amazed. She could have been killed that day-if not by the longhorn, then by the outlaws who'd robbed the stage before he happened upon her, and she thought it was an adventure. He had never met a woman like Glynna before. And what was puzzling him even more was that she knew the truth about him, and she was not terrified of him or repulsed by his Comanche side.

  Hunt dragged his gaze away from the painting to look at her. Though he didn't mean to, he found him self grinning at her again when he noticed a smudge of blue paint on her cheek. She'd obviously tried to wipe it off, but had only succeeded in smearing it.

  "Why are you smiling again?" She was curious, wondering what he found funny.

  "Here." He reached for a paint rag that was lying near the easel and moved to wipe away the paint on her cheek.

  Glynna's breath caught in her throat at his gesture. There was something intimate about it.

  The memory of Gib and Wes's conversation the other day in the corral about whether Hunt's touch was gentle enough to tame a woman came to her and left her tingling with sensual awareness of him. Hunt was standing so close...

  She lifted her gaze to his and was mesmerized by the tenderness she saw mirrored in the depths of his eyes as he concentrated on wiping off the offending paint.

  Hunt was transfixed as he touched her. Glynna was smart, talented and beautiful. She was everything a man could want in a woman, and she was looking up at him with such invitation....

  For a fleeting instant, an image of Jenny crossed his mind, but it quickly vanished. This was Glynna, not Jenny. He was a man now, not a boy.

  Unable to help himself, Hunt let the cloth slip from his hand, and he reached out and cupped her cheek. With infinite care, he bent to her, his lips seeking hers.

  For an instant Hunt's kiss was tentative, precious, cherishing, as he hesitated, waiting for her reaction to his boldness.

  And then Glynna responded, giving a soft whimper as she lifted her arms to encircle his neck. Her unspoken invitation fired Hunt's carefully controlled desire. He crushed her to him with a low growl of pure male sensuality.

  Hunt forgot that it was still partially daylight outside. He forgot that he had vowed never to care for another white woman. He deepened the kiss, his mouth moving over hers hungrily as he held her enfolded in his embrace.

  Glynna was swept away by the power of his need. She reveled in the intimacy of being in his arms. It thrilled her to know that beneath his harsh, seemingly unfeeling exterior, Hunt was a passionate man. The knowledge was heady, as was his heated caress. She trembled, enraptured by the hunger he displayed. She had never felt anything like the excitement that was coursing through her as Hunt held her close. She had no thought of Edmund at all.

  It was Tom's call from the house that dinner was ready that shattered the beauty of the moment.

  At the sound of his father's voice, cold, hard logic returned to Hunt. It drove him from Glynna's embrace. He moved away from her, needing to put distance between them. His breathing was strained as he fought to bring his raging desire under control.

  Hunt stared down at her in the sweet shadow of dusk, seeing the high color in her cheeks and the glow in her eyes. He wanted to reach out to her and take her in his arms again. He wanted to hold her and touch her. He wanted to claim her for his own in all ways.

  When he realized the direction of his thoughts, he gave himself a fierce mental shake. He kept a tight rein on himself as he waited for his desire to cool.

  As Hunt's passion ebbed, fury replaced it. He was angry with himself for his weakness in letting his guard down. He knew better than to touch Glynna. Caring for her would ultimately mean only trouble and pain.

  Hunt tried to understand how he could have forgotten himself so completely. Hadn't he overheard her say at dinner that she was all but promised in marriage to a man back home? Slowly he realized that, somehow, Glynna had managed to get too close to him. Her paintings were testimony to the fact that she understood him too well. He took another step back, even farther away from her.

  Watching Hunt, Glynna could see his harsh control slip back into place, and she shivered at the change in him. The man who had shown her such passion and desire had disappeared. It was almost as if he'd never existed. In his place stood the cold, unfeeling man she'd dealt with for the last few days. She found herself wondering if she'd imagined the passion of his kiss and his touch.

  "I'm sorry. That shouldn't have happened," he said in a voice that reflected no emotion of any kind.

  His words were like a slap in the face, and Glynna stiffened resentfully. "Why not?"

  "Because you're a white woman and I'm Comanche."

  "You're a man, Hunt McAllister."

  He looked at her dispassionately, wanting to keep her away from him, not wanting her to know how her kiss had truly affected him. Didn't she realize he was protecting her, as well as himself? "To the rest of the world, I'm a half-breed. Now go on up to the house, before something happens that you'll regret."

  "It already has!" she lashed back at him. She was sorry now that she'd kissed him, and sorry that she'd let herself think, for even a moment, that underneath his unfeeling exterior, he might be a different man.

  She gathered up her things and walked away.

  Her words had cut Hunt, but he told himself he felt nothing. He watched her disappear inside, then returned to the stable.

  A short time later, after she'd washed up and come back downstairs for dinner, Glynna learned that Hunt wouldn't be joining them for dinner that night. She was actually glad. She felt like a fool, kissing him that way. She didn't know what had gotten into her. She loved Edmund, didn't she? She was all but engaged to him. What was she doing responding to Hunt that way, especially since she knew he didn't care one bit about her? Glynna turned her thoughts to anything and everything but Hunt McAllister.

  "Do you have any idea where Diego is taking us tomorrow?" Glynna asked Tom as they were finishing the meal.

  "I think up a little farther north. There's a good view of the canyon there. You'll enjoy it."

  "You have a wonderful place here," Mimi told their host. "You must be very proud of what you've built up, and through your own hard work."

  "It's home," he said, contented finally after so many years of sadness. "Especially now that Hunt's back with me. It's good to have him here. Now that I'm not feeling so well, I don't know what I would have done without him."

  "Children are definitely a blessing," Mimi responded, smiling at Tom as she glanced at Glynna.

  "It's a shame you never had any of your own," Tom remarked, looking at Mimi.

  Mimi went slightly pale at his words. "Yes. My husband died before we had the opportunity to have a family, and I never wanted to marry again after losing him."

  "She all but raised me after my mother died," Glynna said, smiling at her. She'd seen Mimi's sudden look of sadness and wanted to let her know how much she appreciated her. "She would have made a fine mother."

  "Why, thank you, sweetheart. That's very kind."

  "It's just the truth. Well, if you two will excuse me, I'm going on upstairs now," Glynna added, leaving her aunt and Tom to their conversation. "It's been a very long day, and I want to rest up for tomorrow."

  "Of course, dear," Mimi said.

  "Good night," Tom told her.

  Glynna went to her room and locked herself in, then threw herself on the bed, disgusted. She had tried not to think about Hunt during dinner, but he'd dominated her thoughts all evening long. She didn't want to think about the man. He was arrogant and hateful, and if she never saw him again, that would be fine!

  She was glad they would be leaving soon. The way she was feeling right now, their departure couldn't come soon en
ough to suit her. Angry with herself for feeling this way, Glynna got up and stalked to the window. She knew she had no one to blame but herself. She was the one who'd wanted to come to Texas. Well, here she was in Texas. It was a beautiful night, but she didn't notice. She saw only the darkness.

  Giving a strangled sigh, Glynna sank down in the chair and stared at the paintings she'd left propped against the wall. Hunt stared back at her from the canvas. He looked dangerous, and she realized that he really was a danger to her he was a danger to her heart.

  Glynna gave a shake of her head and told herself she should have remembered Hunt was different from any man she'd ever known. He'd fascinated her from the first. Why else would she have drawn so many sketches of him? Why else had he haunted her thoughts? And then, when he'd kissed her....

  Glynna tried to tell herself that she was overreacting, but the memory of Hunt's embrace was emblazoned on her mind and her senses. His kiss had been perfect, everything she'd ever dreamed a lover's kiss should be tender, passionate, exciting.

  Edmund's kiss had never affected her this way, and Edmund was a perfect gentleman sophisticated and suave. He treated her like a lady and would make the perfect society husband. He was wealthy and good-looking and Glynna frowned. Though she was listing all of Edmund's good points, it occurred to her that she hadn't thought of him very often, and she hadn't missed him at all during her travels.

  Again, the memory of being in Hunt's arms re turned. She remembered the rapture of his touch and his kiss. It had been heavenly.

  Glynna tried to look at her situation logically. She wanted to analyze the reason why she'd responded so wildly to Hunt. Was it his very untamed nature that drew her to him? Did she believe that she could tame him? Was he the ultimate challenge for a woman? Or did she truly believe that inside his cold exterior a passionate, warm man did exist and she wanted to prove it? What was there about Hunt that attracted her so strongly?

  Certainly Hunt was handsome, but she'd known many good-looking men. None had affected her this way. Hunt was strong. Her mind drifted, and she remembered how wonderful it had felt to be crushed against his hard, muscled chest.

  Glynna gave a disbelieving shake of her head at the direction of her thoughts. Trying to be rational wasn't helping at all.

  Sighing again, she looked around the room, wondering what to do for the rest of the night. She was certain she wasn't going to be getting any sleep. With only one more day left to finish the painting for Tom, Glynna decided to work on that. She turned up all the lamps in the room and went to work.

  It was in the wee hours of the morning when Glynna finally put her brushes aside, turned down the lamps and went to bed. But sleep still proved elusive-the heated memory of Hunt's kiss denied her any rest.

  "What was so important you couldn't have dinner with us?" Tom demanded as he found his son working in the stable.

  "I had a lot of work to catch up on, and I can always get something to eat later."

  Tom looked irritated. "You know the women will be leaving soon."

  "Good."

  He was surprised by Hunt's reaction. "They haven't bothered you any. Why do you resent their being here so much?"

  "I don't care if they're here or not." Hunt looked up at his father. "I just don't have time for socializing."

  "You should make time. You can't spend your whole life with cattle and horses."

  "Why not? They're a lot more agreeable than people."

  Tom grunted in irritation over his son's jaded view of life. He understood where it had come from, but he knew if Hunt continued this way and made no effort to change, he was going to end up alone in the world, for his own health was not good. He wasn't going to be around too much longer.

  "You're going to have to work things out for yourself one day, son. Not everybody's like the Rosses were. You've got a home here, and you do have friends on the ranch and in town. That's a lot more than some people can say."

  Hunt continued to work. "I know. I just had a lot to get done tonight, so I thought I'd keep at it."

  "Well, good night." Tom wasn't fooled, but he didn't press his son any further. Hunt was his own man now. He made his own decisions. He had ever since that night, when he was fifteen.

  Mimi had retired shortly after Glynna had gone up to bed. She'd fallen asleep right away, but awakened early, long before she needed to be up to meet Diego. Paul ...He'd been in her thoughts since the night before. He'd disappeared again, just as he had all those years ago. She had no idea if he would return in time to accompany them back to Dry Creek. She supposed that if he didn't show up by the time they got back from their painting excursion that day, they would have to make other arrangements for someone to accompany them into town. In a few days' time, they would be on the stage leaving Dry Creek forever.

  Mimi knew the trip had been worth it. She'd learned what she needed to know. Paul might have changed outwardly he'd given up drinking and gambling to excess but in his heart he was still the same man. She'd never understood the demons that drove him, and she had come to believe now that she never would. At least now she knew that she hadn't failed their relationship in any way. The problem and weakness had been Paul's. She'd been guilty only of loving him. And he hadn't had the ability to love her back.

  Having discovered that he hadn't married over the years since he'd left her, Mimi now believed that he wasn't capable of loving anyone or being totally committed to a relationship. The knowledge was a relief, and gave her some solace. The reason Paul had left her was still a mystery, and she accepted now that she would never know why he'd gone.

  In truth, it didn't matter anymore. Though she had loved him, and still did to some extent, Mimi made the conscious decision never to let Paul Chandler cause her pain again. If she saw him once more before they left, that would be fine. And if he was gone from her life forever, so be it.

  Mimi smiled in the darkness. Her burden was lightened. She felt freer than she had in ages.

  Mimi's thoughts turned to Glynna. Her niece was having a grand adventure, and Mimi was fortunate to be with her. It was exciting to see everything through Glynna's artistic eyes. She was a brilliant, talented young woman, and Mimi was proud of her.

  Though she was eager for a new day and a new adventure with Glynna, Mimi knew it was still far too early to think about getting up. She remained in bed, enjoying the quiet, at peace with her life.

  Painted Horse sat at the campfire with the other braves who'd joined him in his raiding party. They had been gone from the reservation for weeks now and were enjoying their freedom, such as it was. They had found no buffalo to hunt. The animal that had fed their people for centuries no longer ran freely across the land in massive herds. The white hunters had nearly wiped it out of existence. So instead of hunting, Painted Horse and his warriors had taken to paying the white man back for his treacherous, lying ways. They had begun to raid the white man's homesteads, wanting to drive these new settlers from their ancestral lands.

  Painted Horse closed his eyes as the peyote he'd been chewing began to take effect. The plant gave him visions that foretold the future and helped him to lead his braves safely on their raids.

  The others gathered there watched closely as their leader swayed slightly, moved by the power and clarity of what he must be seeing in his vision.

  It was hot. The sun was high overhead and the air was still. Before him, the canyon stretched for miles. There were no buffalo. The land was empty of all life.

  He heard the sound of a horse coming and looked back to see a beautiful white woman on a magnificent black stallion. She was riding as swiftly as the wind. As she neared the canyons rim she reined in, and the stallion reared.

  "The hunter will come," she announced. "Do no harm to the prize he seeks. His vengeance would be swift and deadly."

  She turned the horse and raced away.

  He watched her until she had disappeared from sight and his vision faded.

  Painted Horse awoke from his dream. He did not kn
ow who the hunter was and he didn't care.

  "I will find a great prize tomorrow when the sun is high," he announced to the others.

  They had been waiting to hear what he had seen. They all knew Painted Horse's visions were prophetic.

  "Where, Painted Horse?"

  "Near the canyon. We will find it there."

  "What is it we seek?" Crouching Wolf asked. Some of the other braves followed Painted Horse without question; he did not.

  "The finest stallion of all. We will find him soon."

  The others were pleased. Horses were the best spoils of their raids.

  They waited for the first light of day, then started for the canyon.

  Mimi never did get back to sleep, and when Maria came to wake her, she was already dressed and ready to go. Glynna came downstairs shortly after. They hurried to eat the breakfast Maria had prepared for them while Diego loaded the packhorse. They rode out as the sky was lightening in the east, heading north for the canyon area.

  Neither Glynna nor Mimi thought to look back at the ranch house as they rode away. They were both looking forward to the adventures of the day. They were excited about what was to come.

  It was near midday. Painted Horse had ridden ahead of the others to scout the area and had come upon the small campsite. Moving quietly, he'd gotten close enough to see the white people there. He'd immediately recognized one of the two women as the beauty who'd ridden the stallion in his vision. His ability to foretell the future was powerful indeed!

  The warning in his vision came to him:

  The hunter will come. Do no harm to the prize he seeks. His vengeance would be swift and deadly.

  Painted Horse considered the warning as he looked for the stallion. He saw only three riding horses and the packhorse tied there. He frowned. It was the stallion he wanted. The stallion was the prize he wanted to claim for his own in this raid!

  He turned his attention back to the woman. She was the same dark-haired beauty who had spoken in his dream. She would lead him to the stallion. Through her, he would get what he wanted.

  He continued to watch as the woman, along with an older female and the boy who was with them, loaded boxes on the back of the packhorse. Obviously the boxes were of great value, for they handled them with care.