Midnight Rider

“I realize that.” His fingers moved to her mouth and slowly, gently, traced its soft outline in a silence that throbbed with excitement and dark promise.

It was the first intimate contact she’d ever had with a man and it unnerved her. “Eduardo,” she whispered uncertainly.

His thumb pressed hard against her lips, parting them. Something flashed in his eyes as he felt her mouth tremble under the sudden rough caress of his thumb bruising the inside of her lips back against her teeth.

She gasped and he made a sound deep in his throat, somewhere between a groan and a growl.

The lace at her throat was shaking wildly. She saw his eyes go there and then, inexplicably, to her bodice. His breath drew in sharply. She looked down, curious even through her excitement, to see what had brought that sound from his lips.

She saw nothing except the sharp points of her nipples against the fabric, but why should that disturb him?

His eyes moved back up to hers. His fingers traced her chin and lifted it. His eyes fell to her soft mouth. He moved, just enough to bring him so close that she could taste the coffee scent and cigar smoke on his mouth as it hovered near hers.

She had a hold on his dark jacket. She didn’t realize how tight a hold it was until she became aware of the cool cloth in her fingers.

“Bernadette,” he whispered in a tone she’d never heard him use before. She was frozen in time, in space. She wanted his mouth to come down and cover hers. She wanted to taste it, as she’d wanted to so often in the past two years, even as she feared the change that it would bring to their turbulent relationship. But at the moment, the blood was surging through her veins and she was hungry for something she’d never known. The lack of restraint made her reckless.

Involuntarily, she leaned closer to him, her lips approaching his as she forgot all her upbringing in the heat of sudden desire.

He was tempted as he hadn’t been in many years. He was painfully tempted. But suddenly, he murmured something violent in Spanish, something she was certain he’d never have given voice if he’d suspected how fluent she was in Spanish. She’d never told him that she had learned his language, for fear of him knowing the reason—that she wanted to speak it because it was his native tongue.

He drew back, his expression curiously taut and odd. He stared at her with narrowed eyes and she flushed at her own forward, outrageous behavior and dropped her gaze to his jacket in a flurry of embarrassment.

Tension flowed between them as the sudden sound of hard shoes on tile broke the pregnant silence like pistol shots. Eduardo moved away from her to the window and grasped the thick curtain in his lean hand as Maria came through the open doorway carrying a silver tray.

She was looking at it, not at the occupants of the room, so Bernadette had a few precious seconds to compose herself. Her hands still shook badly, but she managed to clasp them in her lap while Maria put the cups and saucers along with a pitcher of cream and a sugar dish on the table against the wall. She poured thick coffee into the cups and then laid napkins and spoons beside them. By the time she brought the coffee to Bernadette, the younger woman was pale but smiling. “Thank you, Maria,” she said hoarsely, and tried to sip the hot coffee, almost burning her mouth in the process.

“This disease of the lungs is something you must be careful about, niña,” Maria said firmly. “You must take better care of yourself. Is this not so, Señor Conde?”

He turned from the window and faced them with his usual composure. “Yes, it is,” he agreed, although his voice sounded huskier than usual. “Will you stay with her, Maria?” he added curtly. “I’ll go find her father myself. There’s something I need to discuss with him.”

“Do you not want your coffee?” she asked, surprised.

“Not at the moment, graçias.” He barely glanced at Bernadette. With a courteous nod, he left the room.

“What odd behavior,” Maria murmured.

Bernadette didn’t say a word. She’d shamed herself so badly that she wondered if she’d ever be able to look Eduardo in the eye again. Why couldn’t she have controlled her wild heartbeat, her scant but rapid breathing, when he was so close? How could she have leaned so close to him, as if she were begging him to kiss her?

She groaned aloud, and Maria hovered worriedly. “I’m all right,” she assured the servant. “It’s just that...that the coffee is hot,” she said finally.

“This is so, but it will help your lungs,” Maria coaxed with a smile.

Yes, it would help the lungs. Strong black coffee often stopped an attack of asthma stone cold.

But it wasn’t going to do much for the renegade heart that was beating like a drum in her chest or the shame she’d brought on herself in a moment of ungoverned passion. Amazing that she could feel such emotions with Eduardo. He didn’t even want her. But if he didn’t, then why had he come so close, spoken so seductively? It was the first time since she’d known him that he’d ever behaved in that way with her. They fought constantly. But there were times when he had been tender with her, concerned for her, as even her own father wasn’t. But this, today, was different. He’d treated her for the first time as a woman he desired. It gave her an extraordinary feeling of power, of maturity.

She let herself dream, for a space of seconds, that he felt the same helpless attraction for her that she felt for him. Only a dream, but so sweet!

CHAPTER TWO

EDUARDO STALKED TOWARD THE barn where Maria had said Colston Barron was working. He felt sick to his stomach for the way he’d worked on Bernadette’s senses, taking advantage of her naiveté and unworldliness. She was easy prey for an experienced man. He’d turned her inside out with no trouble at all, just to see if he could. The result made his head spin. She wanted him. He was dumbfounded. Having experienced little more than open hostility from her, especially for the past two years, the knowledge of her vulnerability with him was overwhelming.

His mind was forming plans as he walked. Bernadette’s father wanted a titled son-in-law, a place in polite society that his wealth couldn’t buy for him. Bernadette was ripe for a lover. Eduardo, on the other hand, needed money badly to save his ranch. The alternative was to go on his knees to his grandmother and beg for help, something the proud old woman might not give him—without strings attached. Her favorite was his cousin Luis, a shrewd young blade with big eyes and grandiose plans who would love to see Eduardo humbled.

Eduardo’s mouth set into a thin line. He needed a rich wife. Bernadette needed a titled husband. Moreover, her father might be receptive to him. If he played his cards right, he could save his pride and his ranch. As for Bernadette, what little affection she might require he could surely force himself to give her. She was too young to know the difference between seduction and passionate love. He could make her happy. Her poor health would be a drawback, but no match was perfect. She might in time bear him a child, if the risk was not too great. He would ask only one of her, and pray that it would be a son to inherit the ranch.

He caught sight of the little Irishman talking to one of the stable hands. Colston Barron’s red hair was mussed, and his red face with its big nose was framed by ears that didn’t know to lie flat against his head. He was far from handsome and he had no real breeding. His language was punctuated with expletives, and he had little patience. But he was a fair man and he was honest, traits Eduardo had always admired in his nearest neighbor.

The Irishman turned on his bow legs when he heard Eduardo approach, going forward to greet him with an outstretched hand and a grin.

“Well, Eduardo, sure and this is a hell of a time of day to come visiting a poor working man! How are you, lad?”

“Very well, thank you,” the younger man replied. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Bernadette tells me you’re planning a ball.”

“Yes.” He glared at the house. “One last desperate attempt to get her married and off me hands. She’s twenty, you know, Eduardo, an invalid half the time, and a nuisance the rest. I have two men picked out for her. One is a German duke and the other’s an Italian count. No money, of course,” he added under his breath, “but old families and old names. She could do a hell of a lot worse, let me tell you! And there’s not a reason in the world why I shouldn’t benefit a bit from her marriage by acquiring a noble son-in-law. After all, I’ve spent a fortune keeping her alive over the years!”

The man’s insensitivity disturbed Eduardo. “She has no wish to marry a title, or so she told me,” he returned, and watched the other man fluster.

“She will damned well marry who I say,” he burst out, going redder than ever. “The little ingrate! She needn’t expect me to support her for the rest of her miserable life!”

Just for a second, Eduardo had a glimpse of what life must be like here for Bernadette, at her father’s mercy because of her illness and with no place else to go. He might not love her, but if he married her, at least she would have freedom and some measure of independence.

“Anyway—” Colston was calming a little now “—she’ll marry if I say so. She has no choice. If I throw her out, where will she go, I ask you, in her condition? Her brother has a family of his own. He can’t keep her. And it isn’t as if she could go out to work.”

Eduardo clasped his hands behind him as they walked. “These men of whom you speak—they wish to marry Bernadette?”

“Well, no,” came the reluctant reply. “I’ve promised to finance renovations for their fine estate houses and pay off their debts. Still, they’re not keen on an American wife, and a semi-invalid at that.”

Eduardo stopped walking and turned to the smaller man. “She’s not an invalid.”

“Not most of the time,” he replied, wary of the younger man’s black temper, which he’d seen a time or two. “But she has weeks when she can’t lift her head, usually in the spring and fall. She gets pneumonia every winter.” He shifted. “Damned nuisance, she is. I have to pay a nurse to watch her night and day throughout the bouts.”

Coming from a family that was tender with its invalids, Eduardo found Colston’s attitude unbelievably callous, but he held his tongue.

“I have a proposition to put to you.”

Colston held out a hand invitingly. “Please. Go right ahead, then.”

“I have a title and quite an old family name. My grandmother is a direct descendant of the family of Isabella, Queen of Spain, and we have connections to most of the royal houses of Europe, as well.”

“Why, my dear lad, of course. There isn’t a soul hereabouts that’s unaware of your lineage—even though you never speak of it.”

“There was no reason to, until now.” He didn’t add that he considered it bad manners to boast of such connections. Everyone in Valladolid County knew that he was only half Spanish, that his wife had died mysteriously and that he was a count. Despite his title, he wouldn’t be most men’s choice for a son-in-law. But Colston Barron wanted royal connections, and even if his were a bit unusual, he still had them. He stared off into the distance, aware of his neighbor’s unblinking stare. “If I married Bernadette, you would have the titled son-in-law and social acceptance you seek. On the other hand, I would have the desperately needed funds to save my ranch from bankruptcy.”

Colston was struck dumb. He just stared, breathless, mindless, at the tall man beside him. After a minute he let out the breath he was holding. “You’d marry her? Her!”

Muscles clenched all over Eduardo’s body at the way the man referred to his daughter, but he nodded.