The black invader (6 page)

There was a curious sense of excitement stirring in her and her pulse was racing in a way that she found alarming. As a man he was almost an unknown quan-

tity, yet in some strange way she felt she knew him better than any other m.an she had ever met, and her own feeUngs both puzzled and alarmed her. It was because she felt so uncomfortably out of her depth that her immediate instinct was to get away from him, and the brief glance she gave at her watch was merely to give herself an opening.

'It's time I was getting back,' she said, using her grandfather as an excuse. 'Abuelo will be ready for his supper and I did promise not to be too long.'

It sounded as if Miguel accepted the claim at face value, but a certain look in his eyes suggested he understood just why she was in such a hurry to return home suddenly. 'Yes of course, senorita'

Kirstie turned to untether her horse, but he was closer even than she had realised and there was very little room to manoeuvre. 'Don't bother to wait for me if you're in a hurry to get home, Don Miguel,' she told him, bringing the mare round with difficulty in the small space available. 'I'd rather—I mean I can ride back alone.'

It wasn't until she looked up at him again as she prepared to remount that she noticed his expression. There was a bright hard gleam in his eyes that made her suddenly wary, and when he reached and took the mare's bridle from her she caught her breath audibly. Holding the animal with one hand, he tapped a long Spanish quirt against the toe of his boot, and it was the latter that gave Kirstie most cause for concern as she eyed it warily.

'I'm very tempted to treat you like the spoiled and arrogant child you are,' he informed her harshly, and the quirt tapped more forcefully as he spoke, so that Kirstie watched it with growing apprehension. Noticing it he looked at her with narrowed eyes. 'But don't worry, my self-control is stronger than you fear; if it wasn't you'd find it very difficult to sit a horse for some time!' He stood beside the patient mare, obviously waiting to help her mount, and Kirstie was too dazed to do anything other than obey. 'Come, it's getting late,' he said.

'and elderly gentlemen like to have their supper on time!'

In the circumstances it wasn't really surprising that she felt, but didn't fully register, the fact that the saddle slipped a little when she settled into it. She had intended to check it before she started for home, but not for anything would she mention it now; instead she sat straight as an arrow and murmured only the briefest of thanks before urging the mare forward.

If she had hoped to have a head start and ride off alone, however, she was out of luck, for Miguel was already up and riding alongside her before she had gone more than a few feet. She automatically turned in the direction that would take her back to the stable, but when Miguel joined her he pulled on the mare's rein and turned her aside.

'We'll go back this way,' he decided, 'then you can go straight in and get Don Jose's supper while I stable the horses.'

'Oh, but there's really no need '

Her objection was automatic, but it was cut short because he kept a firm hold on the rein and for the mare's sake she yielded. When she again felt the saddle shift slightly sideways as they set off she still said nothing, but rode with her chin in the air and her face turned determinedly forward. Riding at their present rate there was little danger that anything would happen.

They rode in silence, but Kirstie realised that she had never before been quite so aware of her own body, and the reason was the proximity of that virile and masculine presence right beside her. The thin white cotton shirt shfe wore was one she had worn often, but never before had it so obviously stressed the soft round young curves beneath it; and the fawn drill trousers stretched tautly over smoothly rounded thighs had never seemed so closely fitting on other occasions. Nor did the looks that occasionally came in her direction do anything to ease her selfconsciousness, but only increased it.

'We can make better speed than this!'

She glanced round quickly, startled by Miguel's sudden impatience, but she wasn't in time to do anything. Obviously he was anxious to get home, for he slapped the mare briskly across the rump with the quirt he carried, then did the same to his own horse, and both animals took off immediately.

*Oh no, wait '

She felt the saddle begin to slip sideways, but before she could say any more or slow her animal down, she was plunged downward and sideways at the same time, and the ground seemed to rise up and meet her. Fortunately Scheherazade was a sensitive and alert animal and the moment she felt all was not well she slowed down and eventually stopped, with her head tossing agitatedly.

Some yards away, Kirstie lay winded, but nothing worse as far as she could tell, but she lay where she had fallen with the breath knocked out of her and too stunned to move at the moment. She was vaguely aware, in the near distance, of the stallion being pulled so abruptly to a halt that he slid on to his haunches with his mouth gaping on the harshness of the bit, and she watched Miguel slide from the saddle and come striding back towards her, his expression one of mingled alarm and disbelief.

'What on earth happened?' he demanded, and stood for a second or two towering over her like a black-headed Nemesis, and glowering darkly.

Kirstie ached, but she was certain there wasn't anything serious the matter with her, yet when she didn't immediately answer, Miguel dropped on to one knee beside her. Her eyes were open, but from that angle they appeared heavy-lidded and half-closed, and he pressed a hand to her forehead; anxious instead of angry suddenly.

'Are you hurtT She shook her head because she was still too winded to speak, but she made a tentative effort to sit up and was immediately pushed back again. 'No, stay where you are until I make sure you're all right.

Does anything hurt? Your ribs or your back?*

*No. No, I'm all right, just winded.'

Her voice was light and breathless and slightly husky, for he wasn't taking her word for it. Large and surprisingly gentle hands spanned her rib cage and checked for damage; working round from back to front and from bottom to top, the backs of his hands touching the warm intimacy of her breasts with the lightness of a caress, so that she held her breath to try and lessen the contact.

Eventually he eased back and looked down at her with dark, fathomless eyes for a moment. 'You seem to be O.K.,' he remarked. 'Can you move your arms and legs?'

Kirstie obligingly moved all four limbs, and it was while her arms were extended that he reached and slipped his hands under her shoulders, drawing her -upward until she was within the circle of his arms. Instinctively she put her hands to his chest to keep some distance between them. 'I'm perfectly all right,' she insisted, still in that curiously breathless voice, but Miguel still knelt there.

'Hmm.' His arms held her loosely and his big hands were on her back, the palms warm through her shirt, and she found it much too difficult to meet his eyes. 'How did it happen, Kirstie?' he asked, and her pulse gave a great leap of surprise when he used her first name.

'The girth slipped; I'd felt it move earlier and I meant to have adjusted it before I started back.'

'Then why didn't you?' He was looking at her in a way that made it impossible to meet his eyes for more than a second or two. 'Didn't it slip when you got on just now?'

'A httle.'

'And you said nothing!' He was shaking his head, and the long fingers on her back pressed hard for a moment, as if in reprimand. 'Didn't you reahse how dangerous it was riding with a loose girth?'

Kirstie admitted it with a slight nod, but said nothing.

She was shaking like a leaf, but it had little to do with the recent fall, she suspected; it was more the effect of that stunningly virile body that now and then touched hers, despite the barrier of her hands, and the steady darkness of his eyes watching her. His hands moved on her back, slowly and lightly, so that the strong brown fingers seemed to stroke her skin through the thin cotton shirt and she instinctively arched her body towards them.

'You're a little fool.' He spoke softly, his voice in direct contrast to the accusation, and Kirstie glanced up through the thick blackness of her lashes. 'You took a quite unnecessary risk of being seriously injured rather than tell me there was something wrong,' he went on before she could protest. 'Isn't that taking your dislike of me to extremes?'

Still she said nothing, but sat with his arms supporting her; aching a little, but nothing that a hot bath wouldn't soon put right, and increasingly aware of how her own body was responding to that dangerous aura of masculinity about him. Then his arms were gone suddenly and he straightened up, reaching down with his hands to help her stand and supporting her with his hands on her arms until he was sure she could stand on her own feet.

'Will you be all right while I check that girth?' he asked, and Kirstie nodded.

She walked slowly over and watched while he carefully examined the buckle and strap, noticing the way he frowned over it, and when he nodded she ventured an opinion. 'Is the buckle worn?'

Miguel looked up swiftly, still frowning. 'Dangerously so; didn't you notice it when you saddled up?'

'I thought it wasn't as good as it might be,' she confessed, and he clicked his tongue impatiently.

'Then you should have had more sense than to use it!'

'And miss my ride?' she parried. 'There isn't another one.'

'Then it will have to either be mended or replaced!'

Kirstie watched him tighten the girth and double the end of the strap back on itself to make it more secure, while she realised with regret that the old sense of resentment was once more raising its ugly head. Til have to wait until I get my first month's salary before I can afford that,' she told him. 'Which means I'll just have to do without my rides, I suppose.'

She hadn't realised how sorry she sounded for herself, but when Miguel had given the strap a last final pull and then turned to face her, there was a gleaming look in his eyes that was all too familiar to her. 'Don't try and play for my sympathy,' he told her. 'You know me better than to expect me to pity you in your poverty!'

The harshness of it stunned her for a moment, and her face flooded with hot colour. 'How—how dare you!' she whispered hoarsely. 'How dare you speak to me like that? I'm not looking or asking for your sympathy, Don Miguel, I never have!'

'Good!'

He took her fury in his stride and surprised her by walking off with the mare and remounting his own horse still holding her rein, while Kirstie stared after him, blank-eyed with amazement. He surely didn't intend to put her afoot so far from home. But he came back to where he had left her, the stallion friskily anxious to get home and jerking at the bit while Miguel reached down a hand.

'Come,' he told her, and Kirstie stared at him. 'You'll have to ride pillion, that girth isn't safe until it's been fixed, and you've surely ridden double before.'

For several seconds she hesitated, her distrust of him refusing to accept the intimacy of riding behind him, while her emotions stirred to almost fever pitch at the thought of being in close proximity to that exciting virile body. His patience growing thin, Miguel thrust the proffered hand under her nose and frowned, and she suddenly saw little point in refusing. The mare was his and he was, she believed, perfectly capable of making her walk home.

Grasping her hand, he swung her up behind him and it was automatic to put her arms around him as he jabbed the stalHon into action, the sudden forward motion throwing her against him. They rode in silence, but Kirstie's brain whirled with a thousand different reactions and emotions, and she wasn't sure whether it was relief or regret that she felt when the little white barraca eventually dame into view.

Miguel dismounted almost before the animal had stopped, and he reached up his hands for her, clasping them strongly around her waist and taking her weight easily. But when she stood on her own feet he still kept a hold on her and she looked up swiftly, then as quickly looked away from that disturbingly steady gaze of his.

Til see that a new buckle is fitted as soon as possible,' he told her, and she flushed anew when she recalled her self-pitying remarks regarding having it mended herself when she could afford it. 'In the meantime you'll have to do without your rides, I'm afraid.'

'But if I fixed the buckle the way you did just now—'

'No!' He cut her short and his hands pressed hard into her back. 'You won't take chances like that again; it isn't worth risking injury just to be stubborn.'

'I could ride bareback; I have done.' ,

Heaven knew what made her go on, but there was something about him that made a challenge irresistible, and he looked down at her for a moment in silence, the ghttering darkness of his eyes shivering through her like ice and fire. 'Don't challenge me, Kirstie,' he said softly. 'Whatever your opinion may be, I don't enjoy dealing harshly with women, and especially such a very young woman, but if you goad me too far you may find me more ruthless than even you think.'

Kirstie said nothing, for there was an air about him that suggested he meant exactly what he said. It was completely unexpected when he took her hand in his and raised it to his lips as he had on another occasion lately, and the touch of his mouth was warm and light.

lingering slightly, so that her fingers curled automatically in response.

For a moment the deep dark eyes looked directly into hers. 'A girl like you should be married,' he said.

Kirstie's eyes widened and blinked rapidly, for she could hardly believe it of her grandfather that he had confided that preposterous idea to Miguel, and yet it was too much to believe in coincidence. 'If my grandfather said anything to you about that ' Her voice

trailed off, because it occurred to her suddenly that she couldn't possibly go on working for the Montanes if they knew about her grandfather's hopes of marrying her to one of them.

'So we're of the same mind, are we?' Miguel said, and scanned her flushed face for a moment with speculative eyes. 'Who does he have in mind, Kirstie—my youngest brother? You'd make a handsome pair, I agree.'