The Rancher and the Runaway Bride and The Bluest Eyes in Texas Part 16

Adam shook out the la.s.so and started looking for something he could use as a snubbing post. Not too far away stood a mediumsize live oak.

Adam didn't hesitate. He walked slowly toward the Brahma, which began to snort and paw at the ground in agitation. The bull's attention was definitely on Adam now, not Tate.

"Please don't come any closer, Adam," Tate said quietly.

"Don't worry. I've got this all worked out." If he missed his throw, he was going to run like h.e.l.l and hope he got to the fence before the Brahma got to him.

But Adam's loop sang through the air and landed neatly around the Brahma's horns. He let out the rope as he ran for the live oak. He circled the tree several times, enough to make sure the rope was going to hold when the bull hit the end of it.

By then, Tate had realized what he was doing. She raced her mare to the live oak, took her foot out of the stirrup so Adam could quickly mount behind her, then kicked the mare into a gallop that took them out of harm's way.

The Brahma charged after them, but was brought up short by the rope that held it hog-tied to the tree.

Tate rode the mare back to the gate, where Adam slipped over the horse's rump, and quickly opened the gate for her. Once she was through, he fastened the gate, and reached up to pull her off the mare.

They clutched each other tightly, well aware of the calamity they had barely escaped. As soon as their initial relief was past, they began talking at the same time, amazed by the fact that they had found each other alive and well and unhurt.

"Maria told me the bull had stomped you!"

"She told me you had been thrown from your horse!"

"I wasn't thrown!"

"I wasn't stomped!"

The realization dawned for both at the same time that they had been manipulated into coming here under false pretenses.

"I'll kill her!" Adam said.

"I think you should give her a raise," Tate said with a laugh.

"Why? She nearly got us both killed!"

"Because she made me realize I've been a fool not to believe what I know in my heart is true."

"I do love you, Tate," Adam said. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard. "I do love you."

"I know. And I love you. When I thought you might be dying-or dead-I realized just how much."

"When I thought something might have happened to you, I felt the same," Adam said. "I should have been saying 'I love you' every day. I love you, Tate. I love you. I love you."

Adam punctuated each statement with a kiss that was more fervent than the one before.

Tate was having trouble catching her breath. She managed to say, "Adam, we have to do something about that bull."

"Let him find his own heifer," Adam murmured against her throat.

Tate laughed. "We can't just leave him tied up like that."

"I'll send Buck and the boys back to take care of him and to pick up your mare. We have more important things to do this afternoon."

"Like what?"

"Like plotting how we're going to get even with Maria."

As they drove back toward the ranch house, Adam and Tate plotted imaginative punishments they could wreak on the housekeeper for lying to them. It wasn't an easy job, considering how they had to balance her dubious methods against her very satisfying results.

"I think the best thing we could do is have about five children," Adam said.

Tate gulped. "Five?"

"Sure. That'll fix Maria, all right. She'll have the little devils sitting on her lap and tugging at her skirts for a good long while!"

"Serves her right!" Tate agreed with a grin.

Adam stopped the pickup in front of the ranch house, grabbed Tate's hand and went running inside to find the housekeeper.

"Maria!" he shouted. "Where are you?" He headed for the kitchen, dragging Tate along behind him.

"Here's a note on the refrigerator," Tate said.

"What's it say?"

Tate held the note out to Adam.

Dear Senor Adam, Tell her you love her. I'll be gone for two-no, three-hours.

Love, Maria.

Adam laughed and pulled Tate into his embrace-where the first of Maria's little devils promptly kicked his father in the stomach.

THE BLUEST EYES IN TEXAS.

Chapter 1.

LINDSEY MAJOR PRESSED her fingers against her temples to ease some of the awful pressure, then rolled onto her side, hoping that would relieve the pain in her head. As she did, her skirt wrapped around her legs. That was odd, because she slept in men's pajamas and had since she was a teenager and thought it was a cool thing to do. She reached a hand down to untangle the yards of material and realized it wasn't just any old skirt, it was ankle-length taffeta. She was still wearing her ballgown!

Lindsey sat up abruptly, which set her head to pounding ferociously and brought a wave of nausea. She fought the sick feeling, sliding her feet onto the floor and carefully pus.h.i.+ng herself upright on the edge of the bed. Which was when she realized she wasn't in her own bed upstairs in the Texas governor's mansion. She was...somewhere else.

It wasn't a dream. I was kidnapped right off the front porch of the mansion. I've been drugged. That's why my head hurts.

Lindsey caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror across the room and was appalled at what she found. Her tawny golden hair had fallen from its sleek French twist. The makeup she had sparingly applied to what the press had labeled "the bluest eyes in Texas" was so badly smudged that she looked like a racc.o.o.n on a binge. And her beautiful strapless taffeta dress-a glorious shade of lavender that rivaled the remarkable color of her eyes-was crumpled from having been slept in. Lindsey tried to remember what had happened after the struggle on the porch, but drew a blank.

There was no window in the room, no route of escape. She crossed to the only door and slowly, silently, tried the k.n.o.b. It was locked. She pressed her ear against it, hoping to get some clue as to who had kidnapped her and what terms they were demanding for her release. She could actually make out voices in the next room. Two men were arguing. What they said sent a cold chill down her spine.

"I say we might as well enjoy her while we can. Hector ain't gonna let her go even if the governor commutes the Turk's sentence like he asked and the Turk goes free."

The Turk! Lindsey thought with despair. I should have known!

Turk Valerio, the man who had accidentally shot and killed her mother in his abortive a.s.sa.s.sination attempt on her father five years ago, had been sentenced to die for his crime. The Turk had boasted that he would never be executed, that the Texas Mafia, headed by Hector Martinez, would find a way to set him free. Lindsey had the sinking feeling that she had become a p.a.w.n in a very deadly game.

"I want to know what it feels like to do a lady," the man said. "And I sure as h.e.l.l want to see them blue eyes when I'm pumping into her-before Hector does what he threatened, I mean." The kidnapper made a disgusted sound in his throat. "She's gonna be a mess after that."

"I can see the governor's face when he read that note," a second voice, one with a distinct Texas drawl, said. "'Commute Turk Valerio's sentence by noon tomorrow, or I'm gonna blind the bluest eyes in Texas.' Bet the man turned white as a ghost!" A high-pitched, almost girlish giggle followed.

"Hector won't like it if you touch the girl," a third voice said flatly.

"Well, Hector ain't here," the man with the deep Texas accent retorted. "I agree with Epifanio. I say we enjoy the girl now, while we can. Only, I want her first."

"I get her first, Tex," Epifanio countered. "It was my idea."

"You're too hard on women," Tex complained. "There won't be any left for me."

"I'm telling you both, leave the girl alone," the third voice said.

"h.e.l.l, Burr, you wouldn't spoil our fun, would you? Besides, me and Tex together, we're bigger 'n you. I don't think you could stop us all by your lonesome." That horrible, high-pitched laugh resounded again.

"Make a move toward that door and we'll see," the man called Burr replied in a steely voice.

Lindsey's heart was thumping loud and hard in response to the fight-or-flight instinct that had taken over when she realized her peril. They planned to blind her! But they were going to rape her first! Any minute she expected Epifanio and Tex to come bursting through the door-right past the man called Burr, who was all that stood between her and immediate disaster. And good old Burr hadn't said anything about protecting her from the man who wanted to blind her, only from the two men intent on rape.

Lindsey looked around for a weapon. Her eyes alighted on the lamp beside the bed, which had a porcelain base. It ought to make a good club. She quickly pulled the plug from the wall and stripped the lamp of its shade, then dragged a chair over to one side of the door and climbed onto it so the lamp could be wielded from above. She waited, terror stealing her breath and making her suck air in harsh gasps. How much time did she have? How long before she was fighting for her life?

Lindsey watched in breathless horror as the doork.n.o.b began to turn.

She brought the lamp down on the head of the first man through the door, who collapsed at her feet with a groan. She stared openmouthed at the second man who filled the doorway. He was huge.

"What the h.e.l.l?"

She took advantage of the big man's confusion to give him a hard shove. As he fell back through the doorway, she leapt off the chair and darted past him. Unfortunately, he reached out at the last moment and caught her skirt. It tore at the waist but didn't pull free. He began to rein her in like a la.s.soed heifer.

"You did me a favor, chiquita, getting rid of Tex like that. Now I have you all to myself."

Lindsey clawed and kicked, but to no avail. He snagged an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against his chest.

"Let me go!" she cried.

He shook his s.h.a.ggy-haired head. "Not so fast, nina. I like you right where you are."

She kicked him in the s.h.i.+n, which was when it dawned on her she was barefoot. She must have lost her high heels sometime during the kidnapping. The blow surely hurt her worse than her a.s.sailant, because she yelped in pain, while he just laughed.

She caught sight of the third man-the one who must be Burr-watching her, his fierce, hooded eyes filled with...loathing? She couldn't take her eyes off him, even as Epifanio pulled her body tight against his.

Burr's lips were pressed flat in disgust, distorting the shape of his mouth. His chin had a slight crease down the center of it and jutted as though seeking a confrontation. A diamond sparkled in one earlobe, and she saw a tattoo on his arm below the folded-up sleeve of a black T-s.h.i.+rt, although she couldn't make out what the tattoo was. He had a day's growth of black beard that did nothing to hide the angular planes of his face. His cheekbones were high and wide, and his nose was crooked from having been broken, from the look of it, more than once.

The pull of tearing fabric brought her attention back to the Mexican. She bucked violently to free herself from his grasp.

He ripped the bodice of her gown, exposing the white merry widow beneath it. "Fight me, b.i.t.c.h," he said in a low, rusty-hinge voice. "I like it when a woman fights."

Lindsey didn't disappoint him. Furious and frightened, her fingernails clawed down the side of Epifanio's face, leaving four distinct b.l.o.o.d.y scratches. She grasped his hair and yanked hard, then reeled when he slapped her across the face with his open hand, drawing blood where her teeth cut her lip.

Lindsey got a quick glance at what appeared to be a coiled black snake tattooed on Burr's arm as he grabbed Epifanio and spun him around. She felt herself pulled free of Epifanio's grasp and flung past him. She hit the wall hard and, momentarily stunned, slid down in a heap.

"I told you to leave her alone."

Dazed, she watched Burr confront Epifanio. He was easily as tall as the Mexican, but lean where the other man was barrel-shaped. His hair was as s.h.i.+ny black as a raven's wing and clubbed into a tail at his nape. He wore tight black jeans and black cowboy boots.

Burr was all sinew and bone. And clearly dangerous. His spread-legged stance was challenging, his balled fists intimidating. A muscle worked where his jaw was clenched. His eyes were a brown so deep it was almost black. There was no compa.s.sion in those beautiful dark eyes, just cold-blooded menace.

"Stay out of this, Burr," Epifanio warned. "The woman is mine."

"She belongs to Hector. He'll have your hide if you keep up with what you're doing. Let her be, Epifanio."

Epifanio's eyes narrowed. His lips flattened. "Get outta my way, Burr."

Burr didn't move an inch.

A switchblade appeared in Epifanio's hand. Lindsey flinched when she heard the snick as he flipped the blade from its sheath.

"Move outta my way, Burr."

Burr shook his head, a slight, almost imperceptible movement.

Epifanio lunged with the knife, intent on catching Burr by surprise. Burr caught the wrist of the hand that held the switchblade just as it reached his body, turning it aside so the knife skimmed across his chest instead of plunging into it. Lindsey gasped when she saw the streak of red left by the blade.

It dawned on Lindsey that she could escape while the two men were locked in mortal combat. She inched backward toward the door but found it impossible to take her eyes from the drama unfolding before her. It seemed unlikely that Burr would win. He was outmatched in size and strength by the other man. Given that scenario, it was imperative that she escape if she could.

She scrambled toward the door on her hands and knees, forcing herself to ignore the fact that Burr was probably going to die for coming to her rescue. He was a villain, just like the others. If Epifanio didn't kill him, he was going to spend the rest of his life in prison for kidnapping her.

Lindsey pulled herself upright using the doork.n.o.b. She had opened the door a mere inch when someone grabbed her, and a flat male palm forced the door shut.

She made a guttural sound deep in her throat that was part outrage, part fear. She turned with her fingers arched into claws aimed at her captor's face, then realized it was Burr who had hold of her. She searched quickly for Epifanio and saw him lying on the floor, the switchblade imbedded in his chest.

Her hand froze in midair, and her stomach revolted at the sight of the dead man. Her eyes shot to Burr's face, which gave no evidence of any feeling whatsoever-neither revulsion nor remorse-for what he had done.

She swallowed back the bile burning her throat. "Is he dead?"

"Yes."

"What are you going to do with me?"