Chapter Nine #3
“You hardly know him, chica. You have been in California only for a very short time. But you are not a stupid woman. Soon enough you will discover that what I say is the truth.”
Carly looked at him hard, hoping to see the lie in his face. She started to argue, but Ramon came abruptly to his feet. “It is time we were off. We still have a long way to go and the day passes by.”
Carly stood up, too, but inwardly she groaned. Her legs were aching and the hard leather saddle grated against the abraded skin on her thighs with every mile they rode. Ramon helped her up onto the horse, but all the while she was thinking of what he had said.
Could it possibly be true? Could her uncle be responsible for stealing the de la Guerra lands?
She hadn’t the slightest notion of how he had acquired the property he owned.
It had never even crossed her mind. Oddly, now that she thought of it, Lena had mentioned something about Rancho del Robles when she spoke of her years at the mission.
She said greed and the white man went hand in hand.
That there was always a way for them to steal what they could not have.
Carly had been so tired at the time, she hadn’t really listened. Now she wished she had.
They rode for two more hours and again Ramon drew up the horses. Carly winced as he lifted her down, and the don’s sleek black brows drew together in a frown.
“You are that sore?”
Carly flushed with embarrassment. “It’s the saddle. It rubs against my legs. The skin is—”
“Let me see,” he commanded.
“Th-there’s nothing you can do. Once we’re back I’ll be fine.”
A corner of his mouth curved up. “I have seen a woman’s legs before, Cara. I promise I will not lose control and ravish you.”
“It isn’t proper, I can’t let you—”
Before she could finish, he lifted her up, carried her over to a fallen log, set her down, and jerked her bright yellow skirt up to well above her knees. Carly flushed crimson and but the Spaniard merely scowled.
“You should have said something.” His long fingers lightly traced the rough, red rash on the inside of her thigh and Carly felt a hot tug of fire.
“You cannot go on like this.” He left her a moment and returned to his horse.
Taking something out of the saddlebags, he came back with a small round tin of ointment.
“For the horses,” he said. “For cuts and scrapes. Florentia made it. I always carry it with me.”
“Horse medicine? I’m supposed to use—”
“You are supposed to be quiet while I take care of your beautiful legs.”
The color in her cheeks burned brighter.
Carly felt his fingers stroking over her tender skin as he applied the salve, and a rush of heat slid into her stomach.
Dear God in heaven—just the sight of those long, brown fingers moving over her flesh made her mouth go dry and her palms grow damp.
The scent of pine and clover rose up from the salve to mingle with Ramon’s own scent of horses and leather and man.
He was finished in seconds, his movements sure and purposeful, but when he glanced up, his eyes had grown dark and a muscle throbbed in his cheek.
“Th-thank you.”
For a moment he said nothing, just stared at her with those hot, dark eyes. “Do you know how much I want you?”
Carly swallowed and tried not to tremble beneath that piercing gaze. She eased her skirt down over her legs, but her eyes remained locked on his face. “You said you would not ravish me.”
“No … I would not do that. I would make love to you. I would take you gently at first, until you grew used to my touch, then I would drive myself into you as deeply as I wish to do every time I look at you.”
Carly wet her lips. Heat spiraled into her belly. She hadn’t guessed how much he desired her. Not when he already had a woman as beautiful as Miranda. “I’m your prisoner. Why … why have you not already taken what you want?”
A hand cupped her cheek. “Because I have hurt you enough. You are an innocent. The man who takes you should be your husband, someone who can protect you. Even if I were not an outlaw, I could not offer you marriage. I have vowed to wed a woman of pure Spanish blood.”
Her heart clutched, twisted painfully inside her. It shouldn’t have mattered. It didn’t, she told herself firmly. “Miranda?” She hoped the black-haired woman wasn’t the one. She hadn’t forgotten Miranda’s treachery in plotting with Villegas. Ramon deserved a far better woman than that.
“Miranda is only part Spanish. She pleases me in bed, but neither of us wishes to marry. I have not yet chosen the woman I will wed.”
Carly bit back a wave of relief. “That your wife is Spanish … is it really so important?”
“Si. It is a promise I have made to the Californios who are my friends. I have made such a vow to myself and to my family. The blood of Spanish royalty runs through de la Guerra veins. My children and my children’s children must be of Spanish descent.”
Carly couldn’t help thinking of the mine patch and the lowly beginnings she had come from. The McConnells were hardly royalty, yet she would not change who she was. “You do this because you hate the gringos so much.”
“Si. The gringos killed my brother. They have stolen my family’s lands. I am a Californio. My wife and children will be Californio, too.”
Carly said nothing. Her chest felt tight in a way she hadn’t expected. “The salve has helped,” she finally said, forcing herself to smile. “I think we should be going.”
Ramon merely nodded. He moved to his horse and took a blanket from his bedroll. Placing it over her saddle, he lifted her aboard the bay, then swung himself up on his tall black stallion.
They spoke very little for the rest of the afternoon, but Ramon stopped the horses several more times. Soon it was apparent they wouldn’t make it back to Llano Mirada before nightfall.
Remembering the desire she had seen in his eyes, the heat of his fingers as they skimmed over her flesh, Carly bit her bottom lip, wondering if perhaps he had planned it this way, planned all along to take her as he seemed to wish. Or if she could trust him to keep his word.
* * *
Ramon rode straight-backed in the saddle, disgruntled they had been forced to travel so slowly. They wouldn’t reach the stronghold until tomorrow. He would be alone with the girl all night.
A harsh sound came from his throat. He would sleep little this night.
After his tender ministrations this afternoon, his body was still hard and throbbing.
Even now he could imagine Carly McConnell’s smooth, white skin beneath his fingers, that if he had raised them only a few more inches, he could have touched her soft woman’s flesh.
He could have spread her pretty legs, opened his breeches, and buried himself inside her, eased the painful ache he felt whenever she was near.
Damn, but he had never been so driven to bed a woman.
They came to a clearing beside a marshy pond surrounded by willows, and he motioned for her to rein up.
A small clear stream fed the pond, and a cluster of boulders ringed the clearing, providing a shelter of sorts.
They set up camp in silence, then he rode into the woods in the hope of finding fresh game.