Hostage Heart (14 page)

Fascinated, Lark turned, resting her back up against the rail of the porch. “And your mother?”

He smiled. “Fiery and hot-tempered. They came from different continents, met here in America, and got married.”

“Did they fight all the time?”

He grinned rakishly. “No. My father would lay down the law and my mother would blithely go about subtly changing his mind.” Matt laughed. “Her name’s Desiree, which means desire.”

Lark stared up at him, digesting this new and fascinating information. “So you really are half and half. Are French women the same color as Scot men?”

Matt chuckled. He liked the way her mind worked. Lark had been protected here on a ranch ringed by mountains. Her father had not allowed her to integrate with the white world, for whatever his reasons. Matt longed to teach her of a far larger, broader world, instinctively realizing that Lark would welcome the knowledge. “Scots are a very fair-skinned people.” He pointed to his face. “I have my mother’s darker, olive-colored skin. She was born very close to Italy, and some of her descendants came from there.”

“And do you have many brothers and sisters?”

“Two younger brothers who were both killed in the Civil War,” Matt said, sobering. “I also have three younger sisters. All hellions.”

“Because they have your mother’s fiery blood and not your father’s?”

“Precisely,” Matt said, laughing.

Lark pondered their conversation, resting her chin on her drawn-up knees. “And did others hate you because you are half Scot and half French?”

“A few did.”

“And what did you do about it?”

“Ignored them.” Matt gently held Lark’s luminous eyes. “My mother always told us children that it didn’t matter what our lineage was. What counted was what was inside our hearts. She said not to judge a person by his color or the country he came from.”

“Your mother is a wise woman,” Lark said softly, closing her eyes. “The People believe the same thing.”

“Most people do, Lark.”

She lifted her lashes, feeling a stir of anger. “Not the people of Prescott.”

“I’ll bet if you started asking the citizens of Prescott where they came from, you’d find most of them are half-breeds, too.”

That was a provocative thought. And one that shook Lark’s assumptions. “Can this be so?”

“Most of the people coming to America today are what we call immigrants, Lark. They come from many countries overseas.”

Heartened, she lifted her head and smiled over at Maria. “Did you know of this?”

“No,
Patrona
. In Mexico our blood is mixed with the Spanish people.” Maria wrinkled her nose. “Unless those Comancheros come and rape our women, and they give birth to babies of other blood.”

Lark returned her attention to Matt, a warmth settling around her. “I think I’m beginning to understand why different colors of skin doesn’t bother you like it does some
pindahs
.”

“I think you are,” Matt told her, a slow smile pulling at his mouth.

Trying to ignore the heat sweeping up her neck and into her face, Lark stood up. “Well, next week we’ll see if you’re right about the people of Prescott,” she murmured.

Matt nodded, holding her gaze. “Yes, we will. Next Monday will begin a new chapter in your life, Lark.”

“Perhaps,” she murmured. Already her stomach was knotting at the prospect of leaving the safety of the ranch and returning to Prescott.

Anxiously Lark stared at herself in the mirror, studying the violet calico dress sprigged with tiny white flowers.

“Patrona
, you look beautiful!” Maria exclaimed.

Did she? Lark studied the simple white collar and tiny shell buttons that went from her neck to her narrow waist. She fingered the violet sash that Maria had tied prettily into a bow.

Her nervous gaze shifted to the new hairstyle Maria had devised. Instead of parting her hair in the center and allowing it to hang free, she had brushed back the sides and tied them with a violet ribbon, letting the rest fall in soft folds down her back.

“I look different.”

“Sí,
Patrona
, but so beautiful! I think Señor Matt was right. You look very pretty in a dress.”

Matt…
His name echoed through her mind…and heart.

Lark touched her warm cheeks. How she had looked forward all week to those hours at night when they met in the office and he patiently taught her all about numbers. How she struggled to keep from staring at him and his strong, male mouth. Never had she been so entranced by a man! And yet he did not touch her or make her think he desired her.

Matt was grieving too, Lark reminded herself. They didn’t share happiness; there was only sorrow and pain between them. That thought sent her spirits spiraling downward. Fighting the feeling, Lark heard Matt pull the buckboard up to the front door. She gave Maria a quick hug.

“We’ll be back,” she promised the Mexican woman.

Maria wrung her thin hands. “Ah,
Patrona
, I don’t know. I worry so much….” She followed Lark through the quiet house bathed in early morning sunlight.

“Paco is going with us and we’ll be safe,” Lark reassured her. Girding herself, she opened the door and stepped onto the porch.

Unexpected heat throbbed through Matt at the sight of Lark. During the week, the swelling and most of the bruises had left her face. She looked heart-achingly beautiful standing there, shifting from one foot to another, unsure of herself. Maria stood at her side, beaming. He smiled and swept his hat from his head.

“You look like a spring flower, Lark.”

Heat stung her cheeks and she looked away from him. The naked hunger on his face had torn the breath from her. She’d never experienced a man’s longing before, and it deeply unsettled her. “Thank you.” Irritably, she added, “How am I supposed to get into the buckboard in this thing?”

A slow smile spread across Matt’s face. “Pick up the sides of the skirt and climb up.”

Muttering in Apache, Lark hiked the voluminous skirt awkwardly up to her knees, revealing the
kabun
boots she still wore and struggling to maintain her balance. Finally she had to reach out and grasp Matt’s hand in order to climb on board. Plopping down next to him, she muttered, “Now I see why men prefer trousers. This is awful. I feel like a trussed-up steer in this dress.”

Quelling a smile, Matt murmured, “You’ll get used to it.”

“I will not!” Lark compressed her lips, shooting him a mutinous look. “I hate this dress! I can hardly walk in it. I tripped twice getting out here.”

The dress was the color of her wide, searching eyes.

For a week, Matt had fought the urge to drown in those eyes. He yearned to reach out and caress the crown of black hair that shone with blue highlights. The dress outlined Lark’s tall, willowy form from her small, uptilted breasts to her flat stomach and slender hips. She reminded him of a golden cougar all over again and he tried to ignore the heat building in his loins.

“Ladies don’t wear boots,” he rebuked her mildly.

Her mouth dropped open. “What? How can they walk anywhere then?”

“They wear slippers on their feet.”

She snorted. “This has gone too far, Matt Kincaid! First you hitch me up like a horse in a harness with this thing you call a dress. Now you want to leave me unshod so that I’ll limp around like a horse who’s thrown a shoe!”

Matt chuckled. “Slow down, wild filly. You’re behaving like a bronc with a saddle on his back for the first time, bucking and kicking.”

Lark avoided the amusement in his eyes and folded both hands tightly in her lap. She pouted. “I
hate
this dress!”

“Patrona
, you look beautiful!” Paco greeted her, riding up on his horse and tipping his sombrero. His copper face broke into a wide smile, revealing crooked teeth. “Better watch out or you’ll turn the heads of all the men.”

She shot Paco an irritated look. “You, too? Did Matt tell you to say that?”

Paco glanced over at Matt and winked. “No,
Patrona
. Believe me, the men in Prescott will turn to stare at you.”

“Yes, just like last time. And they’ll hurl insults, and the children will throw sticks and stones at me. It won’t be any different.”

Matt picked up the trace reins and slapped them against the backs of the two mules. “No one will say a thing,” he promised her.

“I don’t know why,” Lark retorted, feeling it strange to be sitting instead of driving the pair of mules. The buckboard creaked and groaned. She waved goodbye to Maria, who stood on the bottom porch step looking worried.

“Because you’re dressed like the woman you are and not a man, no one will insult you,” Matt explained.

“This I will have to see.”

He caught her gaze and smiled slightly. “Just stick at my side when we reach town.”

She nodded, trying to lose herself in the beauty of the May morning. A pair of black-headed jays flew past on their way to another pine tree. The thick buffalo and grama grass shone with dew. The sky was cloudless, the rays of Holos striking the crowns of the trees that bordered the rutted dirt road leading up and out of the valley.

It was impossible to ignore Matt’s powerful body next to hers. The buckboard’s motion kept throwing them together, making their arms and thighs touch. Lark kept scooting back to her side of the seat. She saw the Colt Peacekeeper that Matt wore and fear stirred deep inside her.

Matt himself looked surprisingly healthy, his leg wound having healed rapidly until he suffered just a slight limp. Ny-Oden’s medicine was powerful, as always, Lark thought gratefully. Indeed, in the last week Matt’s gaunt cheeks had filled out and he’d begun to regain the weight he’d lost. Despite his height and the incredible power that radiated from him, Lark had found him to be a gentle man with her and the rest of the people on the ranch. He rarely raised his voice, and then only to laugh.

Five miles down the road, Paco decided to ride ahead to town. Left alone with Matt, Lark said, “Tell me of your wife, Katie. Did she love the land as much as you do?”

Matt glanced over at her. “No, she didn’t really want to come West, if the truth be known.”

“No?” It was on the tip of Lark’s tongue to say: how could you
not
love this land?

“We married back in Pennsylvania seven years ago. Susie had just been born when I got the idea to head out here.” Matt grimaced, remembering all too well Katie’s angry objections to his plan.

“Why did you come?”

“Because I had my heart set on using some of my father’s money to start up a ranch, raise beef, and somehow get it back East to the markets. We talked long and hard on it, but Katie still didn’t want to come.”

Lark tilted her head. “I don’t understand. This land is beautiful. It’s rich and fertile for all animals.”

With a sigh, Matt stared straight ahead. Somehow, speaking of Katie eased the burden he carried in his heart. Lark’s voice was so gentle, like a soft wind whispering through the branches of a pine tree. He scowled. “Katie had friends in Pennsylvania, and her family was there, Lark. She didn’t want to leave them.”

“And she was unhappy?”

“Yes, for a long time,” he admitted. “My insistence that we move out here harmed our marriage in a lot of ways, Lark.”

She stared down at her work-worn hands. “Marriage among the Apache is forever. The woman is an equal partner with her husband, but she always goes where he wants them to go.”

“That’s true for many white people, too,” Matt said. “But Katie was the daughter of a very rich family and she was used to having things her way.” He glanced over at Lark. “You might say she was headstrong. A little like you.”

Lark wasn’t sure if he was insulting or complimenting her. Her brows drew together. “White men don’t like women who think on their own, do they?”

“A lot of them don’t,” Matt agreed. “But I don’t mind it. Part of what drew me to Katie in the first place was her spirit. She was a first-class hellion, despite her refined upbringing, and classically beautiful.”

Inwardly, Lark cringed. She couldn’t help but compare herself to Matt’s wife. Unlike Katie, she was neither rich nor well schooled. Her heart sank a little lower. “You said it harmed your marriage by moving out here. How?”

He considered her question thoughtfully, realizing she was asking out of a sincere desire to understand and not from idle curiosity. He searched for the right words. “Did you ever see your parents hold hands or kiss?” he asked.

Lark nodded. “My father was like Holos. He would smile often and embrace my mother, often kissing her hand or cheek.”

“They were happy,” Matt concluded, a tinge of wishfulness in his voice.

“We all were….”

“After we moved out here, Katie didn’t want that kind of touching anymore. She found pioneer life too difficult. The hot sun sapped her strength, and she was constantly catching a chill.” Matt compressed his lips and muttered, “When she lost the second baby four years ago, things became worse. I don’t think she ever recovered from the loss.”

“She must have been terribly sad.”

Matt held Lark’s questioning gaze. “Katie blamed me for the loss of the baby. She’d wanted to go back East to have it and I said no. In a roundabout way, I killed our son by not letting her return to Pennsylvania.” Bitterly Matt added, “Just a few days before Katie and Susie were murdered, I decided to take them to a coach so they could return East.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “They never made it.”

Lark placed her fingers on Matt’s arm, trying in some way to assuage his pain. “How could you have known?”

Matt gently shook off her touch. “I should have paid attention to the warning posted by the Army fort in that area, Lark. There had been a recent increase in Apache raids, and if I hadn’t been so damned bullheaded and cocksure of myself about defending them, I’d have taken them to the fort for safety. I never dreamed we’d be attacked. Never…”

Lark searched for words to heal his grief and guilt, but she found none. His voice gently intruded into her thoughts.

“Katie was very unhappy, Lark. We both decided it would be best if she went back East to live. Besides, she wanted Susan to get a good education and grow up with children her own age. There wasn’t much left of our marriage anyway, and I felt responsible for making her life hell. In the end, I just wanted to see Katie smile again. That’s all that mattered. If that meant letting her live back East, I was willing to do it.”

Tightening her fingers on his arm, Lark felt his pain as if it were her own. Finally she whispered, “I’m sorry, Matt. I can see how much your family meant to you.”

He shrugged, putting aside the pain. Somehow Lark’s simple touch lessened his guilt and anguish. “That’s all right, Lark. Don’t waste your feelings on me. I thought I knew what I was doing, but I made some poor decisions.”

“But surely you hoped that Katie would grow to love this land as you do.”

Matt smiled sadly. “Yes…I’d hoped that would, happen, but it never did. Back East, there were parties to attend, places to see and be seen.”

Lark shook her head. “The East sounds like a strange place.”

Lark’s naiveté made him smile. “I belong out here, Lark. I always have.”

“So you will stay?”

“Right after my family was murdered, I sold all my land. There were too many sad memories. I didn’t have the heart to rebuild my ranch. All I want to do now is hunt down Ga’n. If I survive that, then I might think about starting over.”

Lark removed her hand, her emotions in turmoil.

Seeking a way to take his mind off his sadness, Lark pointed to the Colt he wore at his side. “You wear your gun low like Shanks. Are you a gunslinger, too?”

Matt shook his head. “No, but I learned to wear it low for a fast draw during the Civil War. I was a captain in the cavalry and my men and I did a lot of riding behind enemy territory. I was a good shot, but I got a reputation during the war for being quicker than most.”

“I have heard about this war. Which side did you fight for?”

“The North.”

“Then you were a yellow legs.”

He smiled at her use of the Indian slang for cavalry. “Yes, for the duration of the war, I was.”

She scowled. “I’m glad you aren’t a soldier now.”

“I am, too. I’d rather raise beef and farm than kill people. It’s a lot safer.”

“When we get to Prescott,” Lark muttered darkly, “you will have to be a soldier again.”

“I hope not, Lark. I think our visit can be made peacefully. First, we’ll stop by your bank and talk to this Jud Cameron.”

Her heartbeat quickened and Lark gripped her hands tightly. “I’m so angry at him for cheating me!”

Matt covered her clenched fingers with his own. “Take it easy, golden cougar. The man may have made an honest mistake. It won’t do any good to go in there accusing him of cheating you. That would only lead to more problems.”

Cameron frowned when Willy came running into his office. “What do you want, Willy?” he demanded irritably. It was almost noon and he was due to go down to the Belle Hotel for lunch with Colonel Morgan.

“Sir…you just won’t believe this,” he exclaimed. “Miss Gallagher’s here. Again! And she’s come back with a gunslinger in tow. I swear, he stands seven feet high! And he’s mean-lookin’, too.”

Scowling, Jud rose and straightened his black velvet vest. Today he wore the newest style from New Orleans—a dark gray waistcoat and trousers with a white silk shirt and black tie. “Where’s Shanks?”
Damn him
, Cameron cursed silently, the man was never around when he needed him.