Kim Harrison - Hotter Than Hell

But she wasn’t thirteen anymore. If she’d had any sense, she would have admitted to Turk that she hadn’t been on a horse in well over a decade. But she didn’t want to admit weakness to any man, even one as inoffensive as Turk. She wanted to be left alone, even if it meant taking a few small risks.

God knew she’d almost forgotten what it was like to take a chance on anything outside the courtroom.

“Like I told you, Mrs. Kirkland—”

“Cat. Call me Cat.”

Turk cleared his throat. “Cat. Like I told you, just stick close to the river gorge and you can’t get lost. Kelpie knows his way home even in the dark.” He scratched his chin. “Still think you ought to take someone along…”

“I’ll be back by nightfall.” Cat pulled on the reins, turning Kelpie toward the barn door. “Please tell Pilar not to wait dinner for me.”

Turk touched one grizzled hand to the brim of his hat, a faintly worried look on his leathery face. Cat pretended not to see.

She started out along the rutted road and then cut across the plain. The sense of vastness she’d felt when she’d first arrived redoubled. The sky was a landscape in itself. She knew the Rio Grande gorge was nearby, winding its way south from Colorado until it became the broad brown river that bordered Mexico and Texas, but there seemed to be hardly any other landmarks except for the Sangre de Cristo mountains rising sharply from the prairie like skyscrapers built of earth and stone.

For most of the day she let Kelpie wander at will, basking in the late summer sun that warmed her face and shoulders. She stopped for lunch in the shade of an abandoned cabin, listening to the wind rattling in the rabbit-brush while she ate her sandwich. A hawk circled in the sky, but aside from him she was completely alone.

She was glad. A good dose of solitude, even loneliness, was just the cure for what ailed her. No more of Neal’s hypocritical lies. No more strict and unvarying routines. Just a sense of freedom she hadn’t felt since childhood.

By late afternoon she was ready to return to the ranch. Kelpie, looking forward to his ration of hay, broke into a trot as soon as she reined him south. Neither he nor Cat noticed the prairie dog town until his hoof plunged down into an unexpected hole.

He staggered. Cat lurched in the saddle and grabbed at Kelpie’s coarse mane. Immediately she knew the gelding was injured. She dismounted and bent to study his near foreleg.

It didn’t seem to be broken, but Kelpie’s limp told Cat that his fetlock had suffered some damage. He wouldn’t be carrying a rider anytime soon. The only thing Cat could do was lead him home as slowly as possible and hope she didn’t get lost in the dark.

Night fell with surprising swiftness. Cat buttoned her coat against an unexpected chill. Kelpie snorted and bobbed his head.

“I’m sorry, boy,” she murmured. “I should have taken Turk’s advice.” She paused to let Kelpie rest. “It isn’t his fault that I’ve had my fill of the male sex.”

Kelpie lifted his head, ears pricked as if he’d heard a sound that had escaped Cat’s ears.

“You’ll tell me I was stupid to trust him, that I should have seen it coming. All the signs were there.” She clenched her fists. “He used me, and then when he got what he wanted…”

Kelpie stretched his neck and nickered. Cat cocked her head, listening. The earth vibrated under her feet. A low rumble beat the air. A blast of wind, warmed by the heat of a dozen bodies, swept over Cat an instant before the horses leapt out of the darkness.

They were every color men had named: buckskin and Appaloosa, chestnut and bay, pinto and sorrel, white and gray. Their eyes glittered with starlight; their hooves flashed like dark jewels. Cat’s heart surged into her throat. She clung to Kelpie’s reins and closed her eyes. The herd rushed on, implacable, parting at the last moment to flow around woman and horse in a swift and savage tide.

An incredible feeling claimed Cat’s body. Her breath came in sharp bursts. She flung back her head, surrendering to sensation. Her legs buckled and she dropped to her knees, dizzy and stunned.

“Are you well, señorita ?”

The voice was soft, but it carried through the darkness like a roll of thunder. Cat tried to stand, but her legs refused to obey her commands.

“Hello?” she said, using her courtroom voice. “Who’s there?”

The man seemed to appear little by little, as if the shadows gave him up with only the greatest reluctance. Cat’s first impression was of dark hair and broad shoulders, a lithe and muscular figure that moved with the grace of the horses that had preceded him. He wore the typical uniform of a working cowboy: battered leather boots, scuffed jeans, long-sleeved shirt, sweat-stained Stetson. The jeans fit him like a glove, molding strong thighs and an imposing package.

Cat shivered and looked up. He wasn’t particularly tall. His face was a little too angular to be handsome, but no one could have denied that it was striking. The long, thick hair that trailed from beneath his Stetson was jet-black. His lips were sensuous and slightly curved, his nose a little arched, his eyes…

Oh, his eyes. They welcomed the moonlight like a lover. Pale they were, though she couldn’t make out the color. They stripped Cat naked and left her utterly defenseless.

“ Señorita, ” he said, touching the brim of his hat. “How may I assist you?”

Cat grabbed Kelpie’s stirrup and pulled herself to her feet, half afraid she might fall without the gelding to support her. The stranger spoke only the simplest of phrases, and yet his faintly accented voice raised goosebumps on her skin.

“It’s nothing,” she said thickly. “My horse…he stepped in a prairie dog hole. I’m taking him back to the ranch.”

“Indeed. Would that be the Blue Moon, señorita ?”

His tone was mild and courteous, but the steadiness of his gaze unnerved her. She tried to calculate how much farther she and Kelpie had to go…how far she was from any help at all. She’d never thought to bring her pepper spray. She’d fight, of course, but he was all whipcord muscle and supple strength. She wouldn’t last long….

What in hell’s wrong with you? He’d offered no threat whatsoever. He wasn’t armed. He didn’t even have a horse that she could see.

“The Blue Moon, yes,” she said. “They’ll be waiting up for me.”

He smiled as if he fully recognized the false bravado in her words. “I have no doubt,” he said. He reached for Kelpie’s head. The gelding stood very still. Cat held her breath.

“So, querido. ” The man stroked Kelpie’s muzzle, but his gaze remained on Cat. “Shall we see what ails you?” He knelt to examine the gelding’s leg, murmuring in Spanish all the while. “It is not so bad, mi amigo . A poultice, a few weeks’ rest…” He rose slowly. Cat felt as though he were running his hands over her body. “I will guide you back to the ranch, señorita ,” he said.

“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary.”

“But you are traveling in the wrong direction,” he said. “Those who wait for you will surely worry.”

Was he mocking her? She drew up, all her anger against men spilling into her chest. “I’ll be all right.”

“Will you?” He moved closer. “It is not wise to travel alone, even in a place like this.”

He smelled, she thought, of sagebrush and horses and a unique, completely masculine scent that threatened to overwhelm her senses.

He was dangerous, but not in the way she’d feared.

“If you’ll point me in the right direction,” she said, “I’m sure I can make it the rest of the way.”

His dark brows lifted and his nostrils flared. Cat began to feel hot…hot in the face, in her belly, in between her legs. She could almost feel the pressure of those sensuous lips on hers, the thrust of his tongue, his hands slipping beneath her shirt to caress her nipples….