Taming Talia (20 page)

If he could’ve gotten on his horse and ridden out, this would be that moment. Anger roiled through him like heat off desert sand. He clenched his fists at his side. His chest rose and fell as he sucked in the cold air, fueling his rage.

Her eyes widened in fear, and her hands came up, guarding her face as her body shrank from contact. A wave of shame swept through him. Never had he struck a woman in anger. And he wasn’t about to make the cowering woman in front of him the first. She’d been hit before—no doubt about it. The signs were all there. Here he was with fisted hands, as if he were an uncivilized brute, ready to strike a woman who’d only hurt him with words, never in deed.

Shaking his head, he willed his fists to relax, turned, grabbed his cane and limped from the room. Before he closed the door behind him, he heard her let out a sigh. His throat clenched. That he scared her hurt. Hurt him.

Leaning against the cool adobe wall outside her bedchamber, he heard her crying—no, sobbing. Why? He hadn’t touched her. Nor had he given more than a bitter response, the result of the pain her words caused. He hadn’t attacked her at all.

Talia wasn’t some fragile debutante who’d swoon at the faintest of insults. No, for his however brief show of anger to upset her so… He’d scared her, pure and simple. The disparity of their strength alone was enough to frighten any woman. Had he lost control, he could’ve crushed her fragile frame. No matter how strong a woman she was, she was still vulnerable to the greater strength of a man.

He swallowed the bitter taste shame left in his mouth. If he didn’t get outside soon… If the snow didn’t melt soon… What if they were trapped all winter? The house was already closing in on him, smothering him.

He hobbled into the kitchen, grabbed the coat off the hook and slid his arms inside. Without buttoning it, he struggled outside into the walled garden. Not that there was anything to see of the garden. Shading his eyes from the bright snow, he turned and glanced upward at the tiled roof. The day’s sun had melted most of the ice and snow. The sides of the trench to the stable were no longer waist-high. In the far distance, he easily made out the two flat-topped mountains.

Sucking in a lungful of crisp, cold air, he instantly regretted it when the burn hit. But dammit, he needed the fresh air to clear his head. Might as well see to the horses. If the sun would come out tomorrow like it had today, he might be able to find the route back to town.

But that would mean leaving Talia alone. And after he left, what if the weather worsened again? How would she manage without his help?

He didn’t want to think about all that could go wrong with a woman alone. What if she were injured? No one might find her for days. How long would it take her ranch hands to return to the hacienda if the snow was as bad in town as it was here?

No, he wouldn’t leave her. He couldn’t. To tell the truth, and in spite of all the reasons to the contrary, he didn’t want to.

Chapter Sixteen

As soon as Jared shut the door, Natalia broke down and sobbed. Seeing the rage written over his features as well as the tension in his body brought back the two times, early in her marriage, when Reginald had beaten her into submission. The first time when she’d refused to let him take her from behind like an animal in the field. He’d won that round. A second time, one of his friends from back East had shown her too much attention over dinner. Later that night in her bedchamber, he’d beaten her just to show she belonged to him and he could do as he damned well pleased with her.

After that, she took to carrying a knife and practiced throwing it until her aim was deadly accurate. She allowed him to see her new skill. He paled and swallowed as if her knife were already in his throat. But he never beat her again.

However, humiliation came in many forms, and Reginald was expert in delivering all of them. But she was tough. Humiliation she could handle.

And now she harbored in her heart love for the man who could conceivably think her capable of killing her late husband. And truth be told, she was.

Bastardo
. Her only regret was that someone else had killed him first.

The rise of anger stopped her tears. She calmly rose from the chaise, quickly dressed and then splashed the icy-cold water from the basin onto her face. Maybe the cold would banish the signs of her crying bout.

She paused at the door, then opened it, expecting to find Jared lurking about. He was neither in the drawing room nor the kitchen. The heavy coat he’d worn was missing from the hook. It was too early to see after the horses. Where could he have gone?

She peered out the window. The snow drifts weren’t nearly as high as they had been. The realization that her hurtful words had driven him away gave her a sinking feeling in the pit of her belly. Maybe he decided she was such a
bruja
he might as well take his chances on finding his way back to town. He’d left her to her own devices. Just as she deserved. Her mouth dried as the reality of being all alone hit her.

Why had she been so cruel? She’d said such uncaring things. True, she’d thought to ease the pain of their eventual parting, but instead she’d made it worse.

Outside, the bright sunshine underscored the frigid cold inside the house. Unable to stop shivering, she hugged herself. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back. The least he could’ve done before he left was bring in more firewood.

Stop it.
She wasn’t some delicate ninny from New York City. No, she was a strong and resourceful woman of the West. Born and bred to this hard life, she’d be fine. She would!

First, she’d bring in more firewood. She yanked her coat from the hook and had started to put it on when a face appeared in the window. She gasped. Her hand went to her throat.

Jared…loaded down with firewood.

Relief rushed through her, weakening her knees. Hah! Strong and resourceful—right. And ready to pass out with gratitude because he hadn’t deserted her after all.

She opened the door and was met by a blast of cold air. “I feared you’d gone.” No. She’d blurted out the words, words that revealed her vulnerability.

“I considered it,” he said with little expression. He stumbled over the doorsill, almost dropping the wood.

Without hesitating, she reached to steady him. Not that he really needed it. “Careful.” She stepped back to let him limp by her. “I’m glad you didn’t leave,” she admitted.

“Really?” Still with no observable sign of his feelings, he bent over and set the wood into the basket by the cookstove. He straightened up, then faced her, his mouth set in a stern line. “What’s the matter? Dawn on you what could go wrong if I weren’t here?”

Arrogant man. “Maybe…” She raised her chin a notch. “But I’m not the one limping.”

“You could’ve been,” he said, his tone as dry as the summer desert. He removed his gloves and stuffed them in his pockets.

She clasped her hands in front of her, mainly to keep them from trembling. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh, so I’m not an attentive lover after all?” His steel-gray gaze locked with hers. “You’re saying I didn’t meet your needs?”

Natalia stamped her foot. “
Dios
! That’s not what I meant.”

“Then spell it out,
señora
.” Hands on his hips, he stared, still not giving away what was on his mind.

“You’ve become more than someone who meets my needs,” she began. Could the man be any more infuriating? He wasn’t giving an inch. Letting him know how she truly felt gave him too much power. Finally, she managed to say, “
Sí
, you mean more to me than that. I certainly didn’t mean to offend you.”

“That’s exactly what you meant to do. And it worked. Why try to drive me away? Am I that…?”

She shushed him, placing her finger to his lips. “Because you’ll be leaving anyway, as soon as the weather improves. Will you not?”

His expression softened. He took her fingers, kissed them. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’ve never hit a woman. I don’t intend to start now.” He pulled her close to his chest. “As for leaving, don’t know how I could. You might be with child.”

Natalia’s heart lightened at the thought of having his baby, a son who would grow strong and tall like his father. “That’s not enough. I wouldn’t use a child to bind you to me.” She nestled into his strong shoulder.

He kissed the top of her head, then smiled. “You wouldn’t have to. I’d never desert you or my child.”

“But your employer, Pinkerton, what would happen?”

“Nothing. I’d just wire them that I quit. I could stay here with you. There’s no one back East who gives a tinker’s damn what I do. My father gave up on me years ago. My mother’s gone. My only sibling—well, let’s just say he was likely happy to see the last of me.”

Dios
. He was as alone in the world as she. The thought saddened her, but it was a bond they shared whether or not there was a child from their union. “But won’t they just send someone else? Reginald’s father won’t give up that easily.”

“Then I’ll have to clear your good name and to hell with Montrose.” He held her as if he would never let her go and pressed a light kiss on top of her head. Then he pushed her away to arm’s length, his gaze locked with hers. “Damn, but you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. I won’t ever leave you.”

Instinctively, her hands went to her belly. “Other than the first time, Reginald never took me the
normal
way. He didn’t want to risk having a half-Mexican brat.
 
What if there is no child? What if I’m barren?”

He smiled. Emotions glimmered in his gaze as he watched her lovingly. And even though he’d told her he loved her before, it’d been in the throes of passion or while he was inebriated. Could she trust him now?

“Not even then.” He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and lowered his lips to hers. His kiss was tender, then demanding as she opened to him. Her tongue swept his, challenging him. Her arms went around his neck. He picked her up and set her on the pine table.

Sí
, she would give him her love, her heart, her body and soul.

He unbuttoned her shirt, then undid her trousers, pulling them off her legs. She kicked them the rest of the way off and reached for the front of his denims. Together they struggled with his buttons until she found his jutting hard cock. When his warm flesh pressed to her already moist cleft, she thought this was surely heaven.

He pulled her hips to the edge of the table, and her legs encircled his waist. He thrust home, hard and swift. She gasped for air while her body adjusted to his breadth and length. Clasping the end of the table for leverage, she arched her hips and met him stroke for stroke. Sweet strokes. Pounding strokes. Punishing strokes.

Jared braced his hands on either side of Talia as she locked her ankles around his waist. Unable to believe the hot sweetness of their loving, he kissed her neck and nibbled his way down to her lush breasts. He snaked his hands beneath her woolen underwear and raked the garment up to reveal her chocolate-brown nipples already beaded into tight nubs.

He sucked one, then gasped when an arrow of need shot straight to his groin, making him feel like he would burst any second. Too late to slow down now. No way to make it last.

No need. Talia was already trembling in his arms. Her breathing was ragged in his ear as she cried his name. He gave one final thrust and shot over the precipice with her. He gently cradled her head in his hands and kissed her sweet mouth. As if he could’ve ever left her and given up the sweet loving he’d found in her arms. Never.

Her hands played under his shirt along the muscles of his back. “You’re burning up.”

He nodded. “You’re telling me.”

“No. I mean your fever’s back.” She pushed up on her elbows and stared at him, her brows pulled together in a frown. “When was the last time you drank the willow-bark tea?”

Jared thought for a second, then shrugged. “I don’t know. This morning?”

She squirmed, trying to get off the table. “You must have another dose now.”

“Now?” He smiled down at her. “I was kind of enjoying this. Weren’t you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I was, but—”

He cut off her protest with another kiss, then relented as she shook her head. “All right. All right. I’ll drink more of that nasty concoction of yours. But then—”

“No but-then anything. You’re going back to bed—”

“Okay by me. That’s what was on my mind anyway.”

“None of that until your fever goes down,” she said as sternly as any schoolmarm. “Go! Go on.” She waved him away.

He gave a frustrated huff, then pulled back, reluctantly breaking the physical bond between them.

Still frowning, Talia slipped off the table, grabbed up her trousers and redressed while he buttoned his pants and shirt. “I’ll get the tea,” she said and headed to the pantry.

Come to think of it, his leg was throbbing more than it had been. Guess making love with a bum leg while standing at the kitchen table wasn’t the greatest idea he’d ever had. Just seemed like it at the time. He smiled, the intensity of their encounter still fresh in his mind’s eye.

He could never get enough of Talia if he lived to be a hundred. Ah, to have her in his bed night after night and wake up to her sweet loving morning after morning. Life couldn’t be any better. Certainly better than the life of a Pinkerton agent. Alone, always on the move. No home. No roots. Once, those were the very assets he treasured about the job, until now.