Ride The Wind (Vincente 3) (13 page)

She stirred, opened her eyes, and smiled at
him. It had begun to drizzle, and a cold wind
whipped through the valley, but to Reese it
seemed that the sun was captured in her smile.

Saber nestled her head against his shoulder,
reluctant to move. "How long have you been
awake?" she asked sleepily.

His voice was low, his tone strained. "Quite a
while." He could have told her that he hadn't
been to sleep because her soft body was driving
him out of his mind. He gazed down at her and
admitted, "I have been watching you sleep."

Her hand went to his shoulder, and she sank
further into him, seeking his warmth. "Why?"

"You remind me of a kitten curled up by the
fire."

"I'm not sure that's a flattering comparison."

"Mm-hm. Yes, it is."

She smiled again. "That's not fair. Watching someone sleep is a little like eavesdropping,
don't you think?"

"Maybe. But you are so pretty when you
sleep."

She was accustomed to being complimented,
and she had no false modesty and was too honest to play coy. "Thank you, sir. I was beginning
to think you didn't know I was a woman."

He wanted to let his hand slide down and
touch one of the breasts that were so enchantingly pressed against his chest. "I am all too
aware that you're a woman," he said gruffly,
knowing they should get ready to leave now. But
he was still reluctant to break contact with her.

She moved forward, stretched her arms over
her head, and stood in a motion that was so provocative he had to look away or risk throwing
her on the ground and ripping her clothing off.

What in the hell was wrong with him? He'd
never been on the verge of losing control with a
woman before now. He rolled to his feet and
shook out the blankets. "If you think you can
hold off eating, we'll be at my ranch in time for
the noon meal." He gazed up at the darkened
sky, and it looked like it might snow. "It would
be best if we hurried."

She took the blankets from him and went
about rolling them in a bundle. "I am ready to
ride when you are. I confess it will be nice to be under a roof." She laughed out loud. "Of course,
you kept me warm last night."

He let out a slow breath. Being with her was
sweet torture, and she didn't even know that he
wanted her so damned badly that he could think
of nothing else. "I'll get the horse," he said, stalking off down the hill.

It had grown colder and had begun to snow. The
wind whipped the snow into stinging shards
that irritated Saber's cheeks. The horse was tired
from going against the wind, and she hoped the
poor animal would make it to the ranch house.

They topped a hill, and Reese halted the horse.
"Hold on. We're almost home."

Saber glanced at the log house with the wide
front porch and shutters at the windows. There
was a huge barn and several outbuildings that
looked freshly painted, and the corrals looked in
good repair. "Can we hurry?" she asked urgently. "I'm so cold."

He nodded and nudged the horse down the
hill. He wondered what Saber's reaction would
be to his small house. It was here that their differences would become apparent, and he would
be able to distance himself from her; at least, he
hoped that would be the case.

Saber hunched her shoulders and braced herself against his strong back. The horse was mov ing slowly, the tired animal had given its all.
The only things she could think about at the
moment were a good warm fire, a hot bath, and
a soft bed.

Saber was so cold that Reese had to lift her down
from the horse. As snow whirled all around
them, he took her hand and led her into the
house.

A rush of warm air hit Saber's face as she
stepped inside. A cheerful fire burned in the fireplace, and Reese guided her to the warmth. He
took a brightly colored Indian blanket from the
back of a chair and placed it around her shoulders.

"Stay here where it's warm. I'm going to see
to the horse."

Her teeth were chattering, and she could do
no more than nod. She dropped down in front of the fire, basking in its warmth. When she was
able to move, she glanced around the room. The
log walls had been honed and smoothed and
whitewashed. A woven Indian rug covered the
plank floor, and several Indian artifacts hung on
the walls. Three rifles hung over the fireplace,
and a coatrack stood near the door. There was
a small high-backed bench and two straightbacked chairs. A battered desk was the only
other furniture, and she noticed the neat stacks
of paper on top. A shelf attached to the wall held
several books. There were no curtains at the two
small windows, no womanly frills of any kind.
It was a man's room, and surprisingly neat and
clean.

She could see a bed through one of the doors,
so she supposed the door to her left would lead
to a kitchen.

Saber heard someone stomping the snow off
his feet outside the kitchen and thought Reese
had returned. But a young boy entered with an
armload of firewood. She judged him to be no
more than fourteen or fifteen.

He placed more logs on the fire and put the
rest in a wood bin. Only then did he remove his
hat, smiling brightly. "I'm Jake Kendrick,
ma'am. Reese asked me to tell you he'd be in
shortly."

He had sandy hair and soft brown eyes and a shy smile. She could tell that he was nervous,
because he kept shuffling his feet, so she tried to
put him at ease. "I'm pleased to meet you, Jake.
My name is Saber Vincente. Do you live here at
the ranch?"

"Yes, ma'am. Me, Gabe Cooper, and Miguel
are Reese's hired hands. Miguel's wife, Rosita, is
the washwoman." He nodded toward the door.
"We live in the bunkhouse, just beyond the barn,
and Miguel and Rosita live in a small house just
beyond that."

Saber smiled at the amount of information
Jake imparted to her in such a short time. She'd
already learned more from him than Reese had
told her in all the time they had spent together.

Jake backed toward the door and planted his
hat on his head, then touched the brim.
"Ma'am."

Cold wind swirled through the room when he
opened the front door. After he'd gone, she
frowned thoughtfully. She knew so little about
Reese; he never talked about himself. He had not
mentioned anything to her about his ranch
hands. But of course he'd have hired hands to
help out on the ranch. Otherwise he could not
have gone looking for her.

She was luxuriating in the blissful warmth
when the door opened and Reese entered. He
hung his coat and hat on the coatrack and came toward the fire. She moved over so he could sit
beside her.

"Storm's getting worse," he said worriedly.
"I'll probably lose more cattle before it blows itself out. Gabe said we've already lost twenty
head."

"I'm not surprised. It's been an unusually
harsh winter. I'm so sorry about your cattle."

He tossed several more logs on the fire. "I keep
forgetting you are a rancher's daughter." He
gazed down at her. "Of course, your brother
could lose several thousand head, and it
wouldn't hurt him."

"It wouldn't hurt him now. But there was a
time when Noble had to struggle to keep Casa
del Sol from being taken for taxes." She looked
into his eyes, suddenly feeling angry. "You don't
have a very high regard for my family, do you?"

There was remorse in his silver eyes. "I know
it sounds that way to you, but you are wrong.
The Vincente name is well respected in the state.
And you have my greatest respect."

"Then why do you-"

He couldn't tell her that he had to use every
means at his disposal to keep her at arm's
length. He knew he shouldn't strike out at her
with cruel words, but he couldn't seem to stop
himself. "I have lived too much away from civilization, and my social graces aren't what they should be. I don't know how to treat a woman
like you."

"You treat a woman like me just as you would
treat any other woman. Actually, you have been
wonderful to me, except for the times when you
imply that I'm spoiled and always want my own
way. Who else would have gone right into the
Miller brothers' hideout to rescue a woman he
didn't even know?"

He touched her arm. "Sometimes I speak
without thinking. Please forgive me."

A tender smile formed on her lips. "Of course."

"Have you ever had to do without anything
you really wanted?" he asked, trying to understand her. He was feeling unsure of himself because he was all too aware of the shabbiness of
his house now that she was in it.

She stared into the fire for a moment before
answering. "I have known extremely hard times,
Reese."

He cursed himself for a fool. She had been
kidnapped, roughly handled, probably not fed
well, and might have suffered other atrocities
that she didn't care to share with him. He still
wasn't sure if the Miller brothers had violated
her. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I shouldn't have
said that. You have gone through an experience
no woman should ever have to endure."

"I wasn't even thinking about the Miller broth ers. It goes back much further than that. While
Noble was away during the war, my father was
dying, although I didn't know it at the time. He
sent me to Georgia to live with my grandparents,
not knowing they had died during the winter. He
thought I would be safe with them."

"Your mother was already dead?"

"Yes. She died when I was small. I hardly remember her. There was a time when I thought
everyone dear to me had died, even Noble."

Reese could only imagine what she had suffered. This was a side of her he had never suspected. He wasn't sure Matthew fully valued this
woman he was to marry. "What did you do in
Georgia?"

"My aunt was the only family I had living back
there. Late in the war, the Yankees tore through
Georgia, burning, killing, and destroying. The
plantation house was burned, the valuables stolen, and the livestock confiscated by the enemy.
My aunt and I sought sanctuary in the overseer's
crude, empty cabin that was half the size of this
room. We had no food, no clothing, and I believe
we would both have died if I hadn't met Matthew."

"So that's how you met? Matthew never told
me."

She ran a delicate finger over the knee of her frayed trousers. "I imagined he would have told
you that."

"No. He keeps a lot of his thoughts about you
to himself."

She met his eyes and smiled. "I met you
through the letters he wrote me. Matthew thinks
very highly of you. To read his letters, one would
think there is nothing you can't do."

He rose to his feet, and her gaze followed the
line of his long, lean body. "I'll just fix us something to eat."

She stood up beside him and placed her hand
on his arm. "I'll help you."

"Not this time. You have been through a lot in
the past weeks. I'll take care of you tonight."

She looked so sweet with the firelight playing
on her golden hair and reflecting in her blue
eyes. Reese wanted to grab her and press her
against his aching body. He suddenly felt empty
inside, realizing for the first time how lonely his
life had been without a wife. He hadn't thought
this way before hell, he'd had plenty of women
over the years. He couldn't think of any woman
he'd wanted that he couldn't get. But Saber was
different. He could never have her. If fate hadn't
thrown them together, they would never have
met. If they had met on the street, she would
probably have passed him without even noticing him.

He reminded himself that she'd been born to
be the jewel of some man's heart, to be paraded
around as a prize, and Matthew was that man.
He allowed his mind to go further, and speculated on how it would feel to slide between her
legs, to have her lips on his, to feel her breasts
in his hands. He suddenly felt hot and shaken.

He had to stop thinking like this! He would
never know the taste of those lips or feel her
writhing beneath him in the heat of passion.

"Damn," he said, twisting away from her and
striding out of the room. He'd never allowed any
woman to get under his skin as Saber had. She
was in his blood, tangled in his mind, and he
couldn't get her out. It was going to be a living
hell, being snowbound with her and being
tempted every day.

Saber was puzzled by his strange change of
mood. She walked to the window, peering out
at the snow. It was a bad storm, and she couldn't
see as far as the barn. It made her sad that Reese
would lose some of his herd.

Closing her eyes, she leaned her forehead
against the windowpane, feeling guilty because
most of her thoughts were of Reese and not of
Matthew. If Reese only knew how she saw him
he was her hero and always would be.

She moved restlessly about the parlor and
then went to the bedroom and stood in the door way. The room was small, it held only a bed, a
night table with a pitcher and a lamp, and a slatted chair in the corner. She advanced into the
room, thinking this room would reveal more of
Reese's personality. She picked up a book and
wrinkled her nose at the title: Fielding's Technique of Animal Husbandry.