Under the Cowboy's Control (4 page)

The English words that she tried to answer him with got clogged in her throat. Her mind went blank and all she could do was point to the screen as the tears began to silently spill from her eyes.

Travis saw the tears and confusion on her face and felt like a total bastard. He walked over to her and looked at the screen. The words were in Spanish, but it was obviously her email account, and whatever she was reading there had upset her again.

He reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek, trying to offer some measure of consolation. It wasn't something he was used to doing. "Okay, Angel. You take your time here. I'll go make some coffee."

She wiped the tears off her cheeks, and tried to smile at him. It was a shaky attempt at best, and he took it as confirmation that she understood.

He turned and went to the kitchen, leaving her alone with her pain. Going through the motions of making coffee, he sat in a kitchen chair waiting for it to perk. He closed his eyes and put his head in his hands, but the vision of her staring at his naked chest began to arouse him. He stood up and went to the mudroom and grabbed a shirt off a peg. He shrugged his shoulders in it, and went and got two cups from the cabinet. One he filled with creamer and lots of sugar, and the other he left empty, ready for black coffee.

A few minutes later, he was just beginning to pour the coffee when he felt her behind him. She stood in the doorway. The tears were in check, but ragged emotion still churned on her face. This was the first time he had seen her standing and was taken aback at how slight she appeared. Only a few inches over five feet, she was amazingly slender, with a tiny waist, softly curving hips, and small, delicate breasts.

It totally floored him that she had made it on her own all the way from Laredo, and God knew how far before that, still in one piece. This was rough country, with drug runners, desperate illegals, and the border patrol everywhere. Not to mention the rattlesnakes and coyotes. He thanked God she had escaped serious harm and had fallen into his hands.

A disturbing feeling of possessiveness ran through his system. He tried to shake it off. She reminded him of that little bird again. Something he badly wanted to touch, but knew he couldn't.

"You okay, Angel?" His voice was deep, rusty from sleep and the sight before him.

She hesitated on the threshold. "
Si
, y-yes."

Was she telling him the truth?

He watched her standing there, and she stared back at him for a moment.

Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, Travis filled the coffee cups and put them on the table. He sat back down and motioned for her to do the same.

Selena walked forward, noticing the shirt that now hung from his shoulders, but wasn't buttoned and hung open down his front. She averted her gaze. This was not proper. She swallowed and reminded herself that she had bigger problems than a man who wouldn't button his shirt.

Travis studied her as she picked up the coffee cup and softly blew on it. The right side of her face was a mess, but she had hidden most of it with her hair. The rest of her was stunning. With that gorgeous, dark hair hanging loose and down to her waist, she was a vision of loveliness. Accented by her hair, her face became exotic and vibrant. Her eyes were huge violet pools of color, slanted like a cat's. Her nose was perfectly feminine, straight but with a slight curve that pronounced her beauty.

Her mouth was luscious, provocatively so.

His heart beat faster.

Selena looked up from the coffee in her cup. He was staring at her, cataloging her features, one by one. She wondered what he saw. Her parents had thought her pretty, her father always teasing her about keeping her hidden away from all the boys who would want to marry her and steal her from them.

And the last three years, they
had
kept her hidden away. Nuevo Laredo was a highly dangerous place, with the drug cartel running loose and nothing to keep them in check. She was kept a virtual prisoner in her home, for her own safety. She had none of the usual experiences of girls her age. No boyfriends, no dates, no kisses. Her family wouldn't let her leave the house, not even for Mass or to buy groceries. She spent her time reading and chatting with friends on the internet. But that was it. She hadn't had any sort of a life for years. She had never known a truly safe time, not since she had left school.

And then, one by one, her family had been killed, and she had to leave when she ran out of food. The recent memory was horrendous. She pushed it from her mind.

And now here she was.

She wanted to work, to not be beholden to him for anything.

She cleared her throat. "M-Mister T-Travis--"

He cut off her efforts. "Travis. Just Travis. Not mister. Not boss. You understand?"

She nodded her head. "
Si
. Travis" She took a deep breath to begin. "Work." She paused and placed her hand on her chest and patted it lightly. "I work. For you?"

She looked away from him, at the kitchen that she knew she could handle. She was a good cook.

He glared at the young woman in front of him. Her fragility was obvious. God only knew what kind of trauma she had endured. "No. You don't work for me. You get well for me. You rest. You sleep. You play on the internet. But you don't lift a finger for me. You understand?" He barked the words at her and her spine stiffened and tears came to her eyes again.

Her mouth wobbled and she nodded her head. She looked down at her lap and a tear fell and hit her hand.

"Fuck." He growled the word.

She flinched when she recognized the basic American profanity she had heard her brother use when he was angry. She scrunched her eyes shut and more tears fell.

His chair scraped back, and he came over to her. He wrapped his hand around her chin and lifted it. Her eyes stayed screwed shut. "Open your eyes, Selena."

She let out a ragged breath and slowly opened her eyes. They glistened with tears and anxiety. She brought him into focus.

He knelt down in front of her. "I'm sorry." The apology was direct, straightforward.

His fingers bit into her chin as he tried to say more. He was no good at this sort of thing. He didn't have any experience dealing with the finer emotions. His thumb caressed her chin, back and forth. Her soft skin under his fingers was silky. He tightened his hand on her and felt her gasp. Her eyes flared.

Electricity arced between them.

He dropped his hand and stepped away from her. "Why don't you go back to your room and rest? I'll bring you a tray after while." He needed her away from him for now. His emotions were too raw, jumping all over the place.

She nodded her head and stood up to leave the room.

He stopped her at the door. "Selena." His voice was deep, direct. "Don't leave the house today. Stay in your room. Nothing has changed out there. They still think you're a boy."

He left her no chance for debate. The order was irrefutable. "Y-yes, Travis."

She slipped away.

****

Travis tapped on her door and swung it open. He walked over to the desk and laid a tray of food there. "Here you go." He looked over at what she was doing. "Do you need anything else?"

She shook her head.

He turned and walked back out.

The next two days followed the same pattern. Selena slept and rested. Each morning, she washed out the clothes she wore, and put on her clean set. Travis brought her food. He barely spoke.

She didn't leave her room, or go back to the kitchen. She hunkered down in the bedroom and tried to stay as inconspicuous as she could. She read her Bible, and tried to plan what work she could do when she got back to Laredo. If she could improve her English, she would be fully bilingual, and that would help. She could type close to a hundred words a minute, and she had dual citizenship. Surely she could find something better than the fast food industry. She tried to figure out how much money she would need to get to Houston. Or if she even needed to get to Houston. She had no proof her grandparents were even still alive, let alone wanted to see her.

Travis had to brace himself every time he knocked on her door and walked in. He was scared of what he might find. One morning, she had been taking a bath. Even though the bathroom door was closed and probably locked, he felt it like a kick in the gut. She was wet and naked on the other side of that door. He had left her food and slammed out of the room, and then out of the house, where he had worked himself to the bone for the next six hours.

Another time she was sound asleep on the bed in the middle of the day. There was no reason she shouldn't be. It was, after all, what she had been instructed to do. To rest. But the purity of her face, and the utter defenselessness of her posture played havoc with his anatomy. He found himself next to her bed, and reaching out to touch her before he realized what he was doing and stopped himself.

He spent the next three hours mucking out stalls, something the youngest hand, Clinton, usually did.

By the fourth full day, Travis's nerves were wearing thin. When he knocked and walked in the room that morning, he found her sitting in the middle of the bed, her arms wrapped around her knees, glaring at him.

The bruises were almost gone. Only a slight yellow and purple color marred her face. Her beauty became more obvious every day. He had to make a decision. He couldn't keep her in this room forever.

He put the tray down, and pulled the chair over to the side of the bed and sat down, facing her.

Her glare became more heated. He laughed.

Selena stared at him as the laugh lines creased his eyes and the austerity on his face relaxed. She had never seen him laugh before. He had barely cracked a smile since she had met him. She was intrigued. Growing angry, but intrigued.

"Okay, Angel. Let's have it. You look purely pissed at me." He leaned back in the chair, stretched his legs out and crossed his hands behind his head and waited.

He didn't have to wait long. Impatience exploded from her. She came to her knees in the middle of the bed and said, "I will work now."

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Well, let's get one thing straight. You work when I say you can work. I give the orders around here. You take the orders. As long as you're on my ranch, you do what I say. You can leave if you want, but where would you go? You don't have any money. You don't have any transportation. You can't speak proper English. From where I sit, you don't have many options, Angel."

Her face turned red with frustration and her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

She started taking deep breaths and her breasts strained against her shirt. She was about to detonate.

Travis watched her in fascination. Images of her bringing that naked emotion to his bed exploded in his brain. He saw her under him, over him,
kneeling in front of him
.

He ruthlessly pushed the thought away and pushed his feet to the floor and stood over her.

"Here's what we're going to do. You want to work so bad, you can start doing the cooking for us. I don't have time anyway. Do you know how to cook, Selena?"

She answered him with one swift nod, up and down.

"Okay. That should make you happy. But that won't take long, because I'm easy to please. I'll eat whatever you put in front of me. But I eat a lot, so I want three large meals a day, and plenty of snacks and desserts to go along with them. When you're not in the kitchen, you're going to be on that computer, learning how to speak English. I want you to buy and download any software you need. I don't want to hear any shit about it. I don't know who the hell let you get away without learning in the past, but it stops now. You understand every word I say. You follow me no matter how fast I talk. From now on, every word that comes out of your mouth better be in English. You're not leaving this ranch until you know how."

Selena straightened her spine. Her eyes spit fire at him. One English word came to mind. But she wouldn't say it. She didn't dare. She gritted her teeth and in her best American accent purred, "Yes, Travis."

Lust hit Travis at her conciliatory tone. Conciliatory, but sarcastic. His eyes narrowed and he reached out a hand and snagged her wrist. "I'm going to warn you once, Selena. Don't take me on. Don't think you can win with me, because you can't. You might not like the outcome of an altercation with me." His grip tightened.

"We're going to play this one way and one way only. I say
jump
, and you say
how
high
, got that?"

She pulled on her wrist. He didn't let go. "Yes," she hissed.

He released her instantly and stepped back. "There's your breakfast. I'll be back here for my lunch at one o'clock sharp. Have it ready." He turned and strolled to the door. Then he turned back to face her. "And Selena. If you know what's good for you, you won't leave this house."

He turned and walked out.

Selena stared at the door he had closed and wished she wasn't here. She lifted her arm and threw her pillow at it. She didn't want to be his little charity case. She didn't want him taking her hand and pulling her this way and that. She didn't want him grabbing her chin and pinching her. She didn't want him ordering her around constantly, expecting to be obeyed. She didn't want the knots in her tummy every time he walked in the room.

She prayed for patience, and then realized she was free of this room. Finally! She jumped up, ate her breakfast and quickly went out to the kitchen.

After Selena thoroughly inspected the kitchen, all the appliances, and the stock of food, she went to the computer to look at recipes. She found a cookbook, but of course, it was in English. One thing at a time. She would tackle that later. For now, she was going to show that hateful man that she could cook.

At ten o'clock, she was leaning over the oven, taking a batch of brownies out when she heard the door slam. A slim, attractive man about her age stood there, holding his bleeding hand and staring at her. She vaguely recognized him from the first day when she was in the bunkhouse.