Once A Wolf (8 page)

"These aren't worth taking, I think." He drew a long, wicked-looking knife from a sheath at his

belt. With a few expert cuts he separated the horses from their harness. Weylin's horse was

similarly released from the back of the buckboard. A single bloodcurdling yell was enough to

send the animals dashing east across the prairie.

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Sim dismounted and stalked toward Weylin, a length of rawhide cord in his hands. Weylin

stiffened but did not resist as the other man pulled his hands behind him and bound them

tightly. With a sudden twist of his foot, Sim hooked Weylin's leg and sent him tumbling to the

ground. He bound Weylin's ankles just as thoroughly as his arms, and stood back to examine his

handiwork. Weylin lay still on his side, his face devoid of expression and his gaze fixed on

Randall.

El Lobo tossed Rowena's fan to the earth at Weylin's head.

"If you begin now," he said, "you may get back to La Junta by midnight."

"I'll track you down, Randall," Weylin said. "Come hell or high water, I'll find you in whatever

hole you hide in, and bring you to justice."

"You can try, amigo." He wheeled his horse about and the others followed, drawing Rowena's

mount along with them. "Adios!"

"You'll leave him out here alone, bound and with no mount?" Rowena protested, raising her

voice to be heard over the hoof beats.

Randall flashed her a grin. "He'll free himself eventually. And he can run faster than any horse,

if he chooses," he said. "He is as much a werewolf as you… or I."

Four

The lady did not seem overly surprised. She glared at Tomás, tight-lipped, and he wondered if

she'd suspected all along.

Most werewolves of sufficiently strong blood and experience were able to recognize another of

their kind. But Rowena had forsworn those inhuman powers. She had let them fade away of her

own free will.

"You and the MacLeans are enemies," she said. "Like my elder brother and the Boros—" She cut

herself off and stared straight ahead, bright hair whipping about her face.

The Boroskovs, she meant—her family's Russian loup-garou rivals, who three years ago at the

werewolf Convocation in England had challenged the Earl of Greyburn's rule.

Yes, the lady would understand the nature of vendettas that could exist among those of the

hombres-lobo. They burned hotter, more mercilessly, than any merely human conflict. They

could last for generations, until the last combatant was dead.

The Randall-MacLean feud wouldn't end until Tomás himself lay under the earth.

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He slowed his horse to a walk, and the others followed suit. "Didn't you know that your fine

Cole MacLean has many enemies?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course he would not tell you. The stories are hardly to his credit."

"What sto—" She caught herself. "I know nothing of your… conflict with Mr. MacLean. Weylin

called you a thief and a scoundrel. If you are an example of Cole's enemies—"

"Only one of many. Most were not so fortunate as I; they are human. I do my very best to even

the odds."

"By kidnapping women?"

"By kidnapping a very special woman," he said, admiring her fine seat in the sidesaddle. She

didn't let so much as a hint of panic show in her bearing or voice. "We'll see very soon how well

Cole values you, Lady Rowena. It should be an interesting experiment."

She breathed out harshly, as if she had a flash of doubt as to her own worth in her fiancé's eyes.

"You intend to hold me for ransom?"

"Cole MacLean owes my family more than his entire fortune can redeem." He heard the

fierceness in his voice and deliberately relaxed. "No doubt you're burning to hear the full

account of my infamous past, and why I call the MacLeans my enemies. It is a long and

complicated tale, best told in front of a warm fire with a full belly." He waved at one of his men,

riding several yards away. " Perhaps Carlos will regale you with a song of El Lobo, horse thief

and desperado, terror and scourge of the MacLeans and their fellow ricos of northern Nuevo

Mejico."

"El Lobo," she said, mocking the words. "How very appropriate."

"I do not deny what I am—unlike you, my lady."

Abruptly, and without any warning at all, she sawed her reins to the side and wheeled her mare

so tightly that the animal half reared in its effort to obey. Mateo cut her off before she'd gone

more than a few lengths eastward and grabbed the reins from her hands.

She returned like a defiant prisoner, flushed and angry enough to set the prairie aflame. Tomás

sat back in his saddle and studied her with satisfaction. She had no idea how undone she looked

at the moment, how near she came to his imaginary Lady of Fire. How much of her precious

self-control was illusion?

He would take pity on her and not tell her. Yet.

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"I'd thought to trust you with your own mount," he said. "But since you are so impetuous, my

lady, Mateo will lead you." He nodded to Mateo, who took her reins. They rode to catch up

with the others.

"You never knew my brother at all, did you?" she asked.

"Not well, my lady," he said, "but we have met. And I knew your devotion to him would draw

you with me as nothing else could."

"You played your role most excellently," she said, bitterness in the words. "But why did you

leave me on the train?"

"When Weylin MacLean appeared, I thought discretion the better part of valor. I knew I would

find you again."

"So that you could use me against the MacLeans." She laughed. Possibly she meant the sound

to be feminine and careless, but it came out clipped and strained. "You are mad. Cole will not

be intimidated by your threats."

"Quizas. But beyond Raton Pass and to the west of New Mexico—" he made a wide sweep of

his hand southward, encompassing the mountains rising to the southwest. "That is my realm."

"You speak as if you were a king. Of what, pray tell?"

"Of my own fate, my lady. Of this moment." He grinned just to goad her. "That's enough for me.

But of course it's most inadequate for a spoiled English noblewoman. I regret that you may find

the living a little rough until your fiancé reclaims you. If he loves you, he won't make you suffer

long. He does love you, does he not?"

"He is to be my husband."

"And you love him."

"I am your prisoner, not your guest. I have no interest in continuing this conversation."

"Then you won't object if we move faster." He signaled to his men and urged his horse into a

canter. Rowena adjusted with natural grace, her body flowing with the horse's motion while

her face remained unyielding and closed. They rode across the prairie, alternating between a

walk and easy lope, until the sun brushed the mountains.

Tomás was well aware that Weylin made no idle threat when he promised to hunt them down.

He'd been pursuing Tomás for years without success. At the end of this day's work, Cole would

have no choice but to become personally involved. His pride was at stake, and his manhood. No

longer could he afford to rule the MacLean interests from the safe distance of New York.

The battle was about to be joined in earnest.

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In the meantime, Weylin had scant hope of finding them soon. Tomás knew of many small,

hidden places—villages and arroyos and cuevas—that the MacLeans had never discovered.

There was an abandoned village at the mouth of a narrow canyon off the Purgatoire River ten

miles northeast of Trinidad, a place to provide shelter and rest the horses until just before

dawn. Tomorrow night would see them in New Mexico.

They reached the empty village just after sunset. Tomás called his men together among the

crumbling adobe walls and gave them their instructions, handing over the ransom demand he'd

written for Cole MacLean. They'd see that it reached the main MacLean ranch in Colfax County.

Mateo passed Rowena's reins into Tomás's hands and turned west with Carlos. Sim hung back.

"You shouldn't be alone," he said. "If MacLean finds you here—"

"You know that I can look after myself, mi amigo. I need you to handle the Rialto gang when

they come for our horses."

Sim turned his head and spat with great eloquence. "Then I hope you get some pleasure out of

her." He looked at Rowena, who returned his stare as if she felt the full weight of his hostility.

He wheeled his mount and rode so close to her mare that the animal shied and would have

unseated a less skilled rider. Rowena snatched the reins and brought the mare to a trembling

stop.

Tomás dismounted quickly and caught the mare's bridle. "Easy, querida," he whispered in her

twitching ear. "Are you all right?"

Rowena pushed a heavy mass of pale hair from her face. "Are you addressing me?" She glared

at his extended hands and grimly suffered him to help her down. "Your friend is ill-mannered.

But that is exactly what I ought to expect."

"Sim? It is true that he's no gentleman." He neglected to release Rowena, testing the feel of her

body in his arms. Her hair was indeed glorious, even tangled by the wind. It lent a softness to

her features that belied her haughty airs. Her willowy curves were well fettered in corsets and

unyielding fabric, but he sensed the pliancy and warmth beneath.

This was no ice figurine he held. All at once it was much easier to imagine that his fantasies of

the lusty Lady of Fire could become real. Remove those layers of binding cloth, add a few

caresses, and it was just possible that the lady would ignite.

Eminently possible.

His mouth felt very dry. She ought to be fighting him tooth and nail. She was certainly not afraid

of him. But she remained absolutely still in his arms. "Sim… has a rather pointed dislike of

women," he said.

"As you do."

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"I, dislike women?" He bent closer, studying the plump slopes of her slightly parted lips. "Ah,

no, dulzura. Far from it."

Belatedly she stiffened and pushed him away. "I pity the poor creatures who suffer your

appreciation. But I don't imagine the sort of company you frequent is very discriminating."

He laughed and rubbed his jaw. "Ay! I didn't know that they taught such repartee to English

ladies. But of course you're no ordinary English lady."

Her face was ghostly in the dimming light. "Since you can have no experience of respectable

ladies, sir, your suppositions are absurd."

"Then I must rely on you to correct my misapprehensions," he said. "I promise to be an eager

student."

In answer she marched to the nearest adobe wall and pressed against it, folding her arms

across her chest. "What is this place?"

"Once it was a village. Now—" He shrugged. "Now it is simply shelter for the night."

"We are staying here?"

Tomás gathered the horses and tied them to a weathered post. "The houses may be crumbling,

but I thought you might prefer this to the open prairie."

"How very considerate of you. Don't you fear pursuit? I do not believe that Mr. MacLean was

speaking idly when he promised to hunt you down."

"Your concern touches me greatly, señorita, but I could not expect either you or the horses to

travel all night."

She shifted against the wall. "You sent the others away."

How careful she was to keep her tone indifferent. He hid a smile. "My men have work to do.

We'll meet them in New Mexico." He untied rolled blankets from behind the cantle of his

saddle, unsaddled his gelding and the mare, and set out their grain. He drew provisions from

the saddlebags, carrying them into a hut missing its northern wall and most of the roof. Rowena

made no move to follow.

" I regret that I have so little to offer you, my lady," he said. 't "I won't risk a fire tonight, and I

cannot leave to hunt. But I've bread and cheese and strawberries—"

"I am not hungry."

"But you may wish to rest—unless, of course, you prefer to escape. In that case, you should

prepare to Change. It is many miles back to La Junta."

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Her silence was answer enough. No, she would not Change—not even to escape, not even if he

invited her to do so.

He left the food laid out on a blanket and went to join her outside. "At least come out of the

wind, my lady."

"I am not cold."

"And I think I might be warmer away from your natural chill, but I prefer to have you in my

sight." He took her arm. "Luckily, you're not unpleasant to the eyes."

"Kindly spare me your dubious compliments," she said. She shook off his arm and walked ahead