Midnight Fire

by Linda Ladd

  Carlisle moistened her own lips with the tip of her tongue, an unknown sensation curling deep inside her core. She put her hand against her throat, unable to pull her gaze away. While she watched, Conchita whirled once more out of Esteban's grasp, but this time he followed, jerking her roughly around. He kissed her, hard, forcing her head back. Then, to the delight of the onlookers, he bent low, hoisted Conchita over his shoulder, and strode quickly out of the firelight and into the night.

  "Conchita warms her husband's bed very well. It is bueno, si?"

  Carlisle stared at Emilio, shocked by his remark, but the wine she'd drunk muddled her thoughts and made it hard to concentrate. She watched Emilio pour more aguardiente into her cup; then for some reason she laughed as he pushed it toward her mouth, urging her to drink more. She'd had too much, and she was probably slightly tipsy, she realized suddenly. She'd never been allowed more than one or two glasses of champagne at balls or soirees, and she rather liked how relaxed and happy the wine made her feel.

  "I like it here, Emilio," she cried, suddenly full of goodwill. He put his face very close to hers, and she leaned toward him, wondering how it would feel to be kissed by a handsome, black-eyed gypsy.

  "Come, beautiful one," he cried, pulling her to her feet.

  Carlisle went eagerly into the circle of dancers, the frenzied excitement of the other couples communicating itself to her. She laughed again, then lifted her yellow skirt and kicked off the huaraches Conchita had given her. She stamped her bare feet and whirled around, moving in cadence with the stirring guitars, snapping her full skirt the way Conchita had done. Emilio assumed his position, his head held high and arrogant as he gazed at her. Carlisle tilted her chin up and shook her head until her hair rippled like living fire, then turned her back when Emilio reached out to touch her. She laughed, moving away again. She loved it! She felt wonderful! She let herself go, losing herself in the rhythm, and the crowd grew quiet, the men pressing closer, watching intently, no longer drinking or talking, envying Emilio.

  She dipped again, one side of her blouse falling to reveal the top of a softly mounding breast. When a murmur of appreciation went up, Carlisle smiled at Emilio, her hips undulating invitingly in the way Conchita's had. And while everyone watched, she lifted her hair with both hands, very slowly and deliberately, holding it off her neck as she sensuously enticed her partner with her body.

  When Emilio advanced, she retreated, turning her back on him, and when the gypsy band yelled and clapped, she barely heard, lost in the steady beat, her face flushed.

  She felt light-headed, but wonderful, too, more than she had in days and days, more than she ever had in her life! So when a hand suddenly closed over her bare arm and swung her around, it took a moment to focus her eyes on Chase, who stood tall and forbidding, eyes blazing like hot blue flames. To her shock, he jerked her toward him, his mouth attacking hers, hard, relentless, and so unexpected that her mind froze. He didn't stop but kept on, bending her backward, his fingers biting painfully into her arms.

  Dizzily, she clung to him, forgetting Emilio, forgetting everyone and everything. A strong, overpowering sense of urgency danced over her nerves like fire igniting, and she pressed herself against him, wanting his kiss.

  Then, suddenly, he let her go and leaned down. What on earth was he doing? She gasped weakly as he threw her bodily over one broad shoulder.

  "Stop—" she managed to cry breathlessly as blood began to rush into her head. Vaguely she heard cheers and Emilio shouting something, then they were enveloped by darkness. She heard the hollow clump of Chase's boots against wooden steps before she was dumped unceremoniously upon the cot in her wagon, making the wood frame creak and sway. A match flared, and she pushed her hair out of her eyes, blearily gazing up at Chase, who stood above her, his fists clenched.

  "You sure as hell didn't waste any time trying to seduce some other man, did you?" he ground out, his voice so filled with fury that Carlisle tensed all over.

  "What are you talking about? I was only dancing with Emilio. I—"

  "Shut up, Carly. You've had too much wine to know what you're saying."

  "I'm not drunk. Maybe just a little dizzy," she began, trying to stand, only to be grabbed by him and hauled roughly to her feet.

  "Let me go!" she cried, struggling against his grip. "You're hurting me!"

  His hold lessened, but his anger, did not. "You'd better get used to it, because I intend to keep you a virgin whether you like it or not!"

  At first, Carlisle thought she hadn't heard him right.

  "How dare you say that to me?" she cried furiously, pushing violently against his chest, to no avail.

  "I'll say it to you, all right, after watching you make a spectacle of yourself out there." He shook her by the shoulders. "You're just damn lucky I was around, or Emilio would have been the one to claim you!"

  "Claim me? What do you mean?"

  Chase's mouth twisted with scorn. "Why, you're mine now, Carlisle. This is the way a gypsy claims his lover. Emilio would've carried you off if I hadn't, and you'd be out in the dark somewhere with him right now, letting him have his way with you."

  Carlisle tried to comprehend all he'd said, but she couldn't think straight. Her head was spinning.

  "Just go away, Chase! Go away and leave me alone—"

  He cut her off in midsentence. "What's the matter, Carly? Now that you've enticed a man to your bed, are you afraid? That's usually the way it is with little virgins like you. You saw Esteban carry Conchita off and you got all stirred up. So you decided you wanted someone to do the same thing to you, and you didn't care if it was Emilio, or Paco, or even me!" He shook her again, making her long hair swirl around her face.

  "Well, none of them did, did they?" she cried.

  "Only you, and you've already told me you're much too honorable to touch me!" She stressed the word with heavy sarcasm, her chest heaving with rage.

  Tension stretched like a white-hot current between them, and Chase stared at her, fighting the unbelievable wave of desire that held him against his will. Carlisle felt it, too; he could read it in her burning eyes. She wet her lips, and his grip on her upper arms tightened. But she didn't cry out or try to pull away. Instead, she stared up at him defiantly, head thrown back, lips moist and slightly parted. No longer willing to hold back, he jerked her against him until their mouths nearly touched.

  "Damn you, Carly," he muttered hoarsely. Then he gave in to his thundering need, and their lips forged together, burning, hungry, their kiss hard and devastating. When she pushed against his chest, he let go of her, and they stood apart, close but not touching, both quivering with desire, both knowing that what was about to happen had been inevitable from the first moment they met.

  Chase took hold of her hair, both fists entangled in the silky softness, and for one long, breathtaking moment, he stared down into her huge green eyes, knowing he shouldn't be there, shouldn't do what he wanted so desperately to do, giving himself one last chance to release her and walk away. But Carlisle moaned, all the stiffness and resistance flowing out of her body. When her arms slid around his neck, he was lost. They fell upon each other like two long-separated lovers, starving, needing, desiring.

  Carlisle felt him push her against the wall, pull her blouse off one shoulder, lift her off her feet, and move his mouth over her quivering, naked flesh. When his lips closed over the hard tip of her breast, the awful, awesome burst of pleasure shook her whole body, and she cried out.

  Panting, she couldn't think, and her head lolled back, her eyes shut as he lifted her skirt to her waist, his hands jerking her hips against his loins. Out of control, they fell back upon the bed, her hair spreading over them and tangling around his arms, until he caught it back, his lips scorching into her mouth—and then she was lost in a strange, dark world of swirling passions and gasping, trembling needs.

  He jerked her blouse to her waist, his mouth like a brand on her shoulders and breasts. He was kissing her bare stomach, his hand m
oving up her inner thigh to where no one had ever touched her before, caressing her softly there until she moaned weakly, her fingers convulsively clutching his thick blond hair, her eyes squeezed tight. She strained up against him, wanting something more, waiting for something, until her body jerked and held, and she cried out, a strange muffled whimper deep in her throat.

  "God, oh God, Carly," Chase cried, lurching away from her until he was on his knees beside the bed. She put her hands up to draw him down again, and she could feel his flesh trembling beneath her fingers.

  "What are you trying to do to me?" he whispered hoarsely. "What do you want from me? Do you want me to dishonor you completely? And myself?"

  Carlisle lay on her back, staring at him, lips bruised by his mouth, body quivering from his touch. A sob caught in her throat. "I don't know what I want anymore. All I know is that when you touch me, I begin to tremble, and I feel something wonderful, something I don't understand."

  "Dios," he muttered, getting to his feet and pacing a few steps away. He stopped at the door, running his fingers through his hair. "Go to sleep, Carly. Tomorrow, if we're lucky, maybe you won't remember any of this."

  Then abruptly he was gone and Carlisle closed her eyes, her head wheeling crazily. She sobbed again, because she didn't want him to go. Slowly, inexorably, she sank into a dark oblivion, as deep and blue as Chase's eyes.

  6

  The fact that Carlisle remembered nearly everything the next morning did not improve her state of mind. Little conversation passed between her and a sleepy-eyed Conchita, who sat across from her in the rumbling carriage. Because of her overindulgence in aguardiente, Carlisle had fallen asleep easily, nearly the moment Chase had left her alone, but now as she recalled what had happened between them, she burned with shame. She hated him for the way he'd treated her, and she hated herself even worse for not only letting him, but moaning and clutching him to her, like some kind of harlot. Lord, what was the matter with her? Was she losing her senses?

  Frowning, she settled her attention on the distant peaks of the great Sierra Madre, rising majestic and jagged outside the open carriage window. In front of the blue mountains, low, rolling hills hugged the winding dirt road they traveled. She couldn't stomach the thought of facing Chase. The mere idea flooded her with humiliation. Thank goodness he'd ridden ahead with Esteban early that morning so she hadn't had to confront him.

  She leaned forward, peering out the window, but he was nowhere in sight. Good, she thought. Maybe he'd stay away all day. How was she ever going to bear living in the same house with him?

  Her brows drew together in a frown. She and Chase got along so badly, she doubted he'd ever tell her anything of importance. She wished Javier and Arantxa would come soon. She missed them, and she was eager to join the guerrilleros in the mountain hideout.

  "You know what Emilio say, chica. He say gypsy blood run in your veins," Conchita volunteered suddenly, startling Carlisle out of her thoughts. "He say he want to make love to you all through the night, but Don Chaso claim you for himself."

  Another hot, betraying flush ran like a flame beneath Carlisle's skin, darkening her cheeks. She wished she'd stop blushing. Apparently Chase had been right about Emilio's intentions.

  Conchita's smile was sly. "But I do not blame you for choosing the blue-eyed one for your lover. He is muy macho, like my Esteban. But Don Chaso was angry, too, eh? He wore a hard face when he saddled his caballo." She giggled and tucked her feet beneath her. "He is jealous of my handsome cousin Emilio, no? You are lucky, amiga, for he is not usually so possessive with his women."

  "I am not his woman, and we are not lovers," Carlisle said firmly, embarrassed now to think how he'd carried her off to her wagon like some kind of barbarian conqueror.

  "Oh, that is too bad, but do not be sad. His azul eyes flame for you. He will make love to you soon. Last night he watched your wagon like the eagle until you came out."

  "He seemed occupied enough to me," Carlisle replied peevishly. "He had a woman on each arm."

  "Si, all my muchacha cousins want him to choose them for his lover. He is the great patrón, and they say his hands make them shiver and tremble."

  "I really don't want to hear any more of this," Carlisle interjected hastily, recollecting in exact detail what his hands could do.

  Carelessly, Conchita shrugged a shoulder, but her dark, liquid eyes reflected a knowing look that made Carlisle uncomfortable. She strove to change the subject.

  "How much farther is Chase's ranch?"

  "Tonight, late, we will reach the Hacienda de los Toros."

  "Is the hacienda big?"

  "Oh, si, many cowboys ride the cattle and train the bulls. Don Chaso's bulls are toros bravos. They're known all over Mexico for their fierceness," she added proudly. "Don Chaso, he make my Esteban the boss while he, the patrón, is away in the capital. But it is very lonely there, except when Dona Maria and Don Tomas come to visit us."

  "Who is Dona Maria?"

  "She is Don Chaso's mother, and Don Tomas is her son. He is muy simpático. You will like him, I know it."

  "I didn't know Chase had a brother until a few days ago," Carlisle said, momentarily reflecting on just how little she knew about Chase Lancaster, except for what the Perezes had told her. She decided to see what information she might wheedle out of Conchita. "My sister-in-law, Tyler, is Chase's American cousin, and she never mentioned Tomas."

  "They do not have the same papa. Don Chaso's padre was a norteamericano, but Esteban say he was very bad, a bandit. Don Chaso's mama and grand-papa raised him. He was a great hacendado, and Esteban say he gave many bars of gold to the Holy Church so that Dona Maria could divorce the norteamericano and marry Don Tomas's father, Don Hermando. But now she wears the black again. Don Hermando died in the war."

  Carlisle considered all Conchita had said, but her last remark gave Carlisle entry into the subject she wished to pursue.

  "Your war was very bad, wasn't it, Conchita? I've heard many stories about terrible atrocities committed by the Juaristas."

  Conchita's face whitened, and her lips stretched into a tight grimace. "No, do not say such lies! The Juaristas set our country free! I am a Juarista, and Esteban, too! The French pigs were the murderers. I curse them."

  Taken aback by Conchita's viciousness, Carlisle hesitated. "But I've heard it said that the Juaristas killed innocent people." She searched the gypsy's angry face. "I heard they massacred a whole village once, one called San Miguel."

  "Do not speak of San Miguel!" Conchita cried, looking as if she'd been slapped. "It is an unholy place!"

  "But why?" Carlisle persisted.

  "Because many suffered and died there. No one dares speak of such things in Don Chaso's presence, not even his madre. Comprende? It is forbidden!"

  Nodding, Carlisle turned to look out the window again. Not long before, they had entered the strange, treeless foothills of the Sierra Madre, and the air had grown cooler as the coach gradually took them to higher elevations. But at the moment, the weather had little to do with the coldness she felt.

  Vividly, she remembered the grisly tale recounted by Javier and Arantxa about San Miguel. Conchita's reaction gave credence to Chase's involvement. Why else would his family and friends fear to mention the mission in his presence? He was guilty. It was hard to believe, but she had no doubt he could be brutal and ruthless when he deemed it necessary. Yet how could he order his men to shoot women and children? Only a monster could do such a thing.

  Far ahead of Carlisle's coach, Chase walked his horse alongside Esteban's. Gripping the reins tightly, he stared straight ahead, his mind still tormented by what he and Carlisle had done inside the gypsy wagon. Good God, he had wanted her so badly he'd actually trembled with need. It had taken every ounce of his strength to let go of her, and his hands had been shaking long after he'd stumbled from the wagon.

  He gritted his teeth. Now he was angry at himself and her. Even this morning he'd behaved like a coward, riding ahead of the ca
rriage so he wouldn't have to see her. His weakness for Carlisle appalled him. Why was she able to control him the way she did? Was she some sort of witch?

  "You do not look so happy, amigo."

  Chase glanced at Esteban, then made a conscious attempt to relax his tight muscles. Since last night, he'd been as tense as a trapped cat.

  "Sorry. I've got a hell of a lot on my mind."

  Esteban shifted in the saddle, leaning forward and propping his arm on the saddle horn. His dark eyes searched Chase's face with such a knowing look that Chase glanced away, fearing his friend could read his innermost thoughts.

  "La gringa is like a thorn in your side, no? One you cannot pull out so easy?"

  Chase's frown deepened. "I'm not in the mood to talk about Carlisle. She's the least of my worries."

  When Esteban chuckled, Chase glared at him. "What the hell's so funny?"

  Esteban remained unruffled in spite of Chase's wrath. He shrugged. "I just never expected to see you like this, compadre. Not El Gato Grande."

  "Like what?" Chase asked tightly.

  Esteban's dark eyes glinted. "Like a lovesick bull, pawing the ground and bellowing over the fence of the cow pen."

  "Dammit, Esteban, that's not funny."

  "Neither is the way you've been treating the gringa. Emilio told me how you claimed her."

  Chase felt his face darken with embarrassment, which made him even more furious.

  "Nothing happened between us, if that's what you want to know."

  "I ask you nothing, Chaso. It's just that you are not yourself since you returned from New Orleans with Carlita. You say cruel things to her. You treat her different than your other lovers. I think it is very strange. Even now, you look as if you're ready to draw your gun and shoot me."

  "I just might do that if you don't quit needling me about Carlisle!"

  They rode in silence, and Esteban remained quiet for a few moments. Then he spoke again, ignoring Chase's bad mood.