She hoped Zacarias would be cooperative. He knew the ranch work had to be done. If it took her going to the stables to calm the animals, she was certain Zacarias would agree to it. She waved to Julio and resolutely closed the window and pulled the drapes. She was tired, but a few hours to herself sounded good, so she decided to stay up.
In the bathtub, she laid with her eyes closed and allowed herself to think about Zacarias. He was such a mystery—a man who had no real idea of who he was. Her heart went out to him, a man so utterly alone. No one should be so alone. And he had no real idea of his own feelings. He’d buried his memories so deep, never forgiving himself, refusing to acknowledge he even remembered that terrible tragedy in his life.
Marguarita sighed as she sank down into the hot, scented water, soaking the long, thick rope of hair. She felt exhausted, and it was difficult to keep her mind away from Zacarias. In the short time she’d been around him, she’d mostly been afraid, so it didn’t make sense to her that she was so determined to help him. She hated that he was so alone. No one should be alone, not like he was, not cut off from anything soft and gentle. He had so little humanity left that he no longer believed he could overcome the predator in him.
She saw inside of him, but every time she tried to show him he was different inside, he rejected her. It was almost as if he was afraid of that softer side of himself. It made him vulnerable and Zacarias De La Cruz had never really been that way—or if he had—he certainly didn’t remember it. Nor did he want to remember it.
Zacarias had lived so long as a dangerous hunter, always alone and always apart, that he really had no way to fit into modern society, with humans or even with his own people. He had supreme confidence in himself as a hunter—a killer—but not as a man. And he was wrong. As arrogant and as dangerous as he was—there was someone gentle and loving deep inside him. His tremendous loyalty and sense of duty were admirable. He didn’t see it that way. Everything was so black and white to him.
She dried herself off slowly, taking her time, enjoying the feeling that she had her home to herself and she could feel as if it belonged to her. She’d been mistress of the hacienda a long time and now, with Zacarias home, dictating to her what she could or couldn’t do, where she could go and what she should wear, she had forgotten how peaceful she found the house. It was her sole domain. She kept it clean, decorated it the way she wanted and was in total charge of her own life. She had suitors courting her, which was a nice boost to her ego, but she knew she wouldn’t want any of them for a husband.
Zacarias. Thinking of him made her feel alive. She loved riding horses, the freedom of flying over the ground, one with her horses. Zacarias gave her that same thrill only more so. He wasn’t peaceful by any means, but being in his company was exhilarating. She sat at her vanity and brushed her long hair into a semblance of submission while she thought about him.
He was handsome in a rough, brutal sort of way. His body was fit, that of a warrior. Physically there was no doubt she was attracted to him, but that wasn’t the draw. She imagined most women would be unable to resist his looks. He was mesmerizing and had an animal attraction as well. But still . . . There was so much more to him, right there under the surface, and quite frankly, he intrigued her.
She pulled on her usual house clothes, a blouse and long skirt, frowning a little that she was conforming to what Zacarias liked. It would have been childish to wear jeans just because he’d stated she should wear feminine clothes. She liked her skirts. She wasn’t going to change for him—one way or the other. No one had dictated to her, not even her father, and having Zacarias speak in such commanding tones all the time was a little humorous.
Someone walked up onto the porch and knocked on the front door. It was a timid knock, not at all like Julio or one of the other boys would make. Her stomach jumped and she glanced toward the master bedroom. She took a loaded gun from the trunk in the hallway and pushed it into her skirt pocket. They didn’t get many visitors, and with Zacarias vulnerable during the day, she was determined to protect him.
She peered out and was a little shocked to see Lea Eldridge, waiting for her alone on the porch. Lea had never once come to the ranch without her brother. She was a tall, blond woman, very chic. Her hair was never out of place, her makeup perfect and her clothes obviously designer. Where Esteban talked down to the workers, Lea always seemed open and friendly. She was a beautiful woman, and Marguarita liked her more than she did the women she’d grown up with. Lea seemed a genuine, giving person. She always had time to speak to the older workers and children, not just the handsome single men. Marguarita liked that about her.
She opened the door and frowned when she saw Lea’s face. There was a faint bruise on her cheekbone and obvious signs of tears. Lea’s skin was flawless, as porcelain as peaches and cream, and even with her careful application of makeup, it was impossible to hide the purple. She stepped back to allow Lea entrance.
Lea glanced around behind her, a covert, stealthy perusal of the surrounding area and roads before she ducked inside and hastily closed the door. “My brother doesn’t know I’m here. No one does.”
I’ll make tea. I’m glad you came to visit me.
Marguarita handed her the note and led the way into the kitchen, gesturing for Lea to sit at the table while she prepared tea. It was obvious Lea was very upset. It was times like this that Marguarita was especially frustrated that she couldn’t speak. Writing things down took forever. While the kettle was heating, she sank down into the chair opposite Lea, touched her hand and slid a paper across to her.
What happened? You’re safe here, Lea.
Lea blinked back tears and shook her head. “You don’t understand. My brother’s friend, Dan, we call him DS, has found us here. He’s . . . awful. Everywhere we go, he finds us, and Esteban does whatever he says. I thought if we came here, he’d never find us, but he’s here and he’s going to do something terrible. He always does.”
Who hit you?
Lea ducked her head, touching her cheek with her fingertips. “The truth is, Esteban does whatever DS tells him to do. I thought we’d moved to this place to get away from him, but he was the one who instructed Esteban to come here and get friendly with the people on this ranch.” She raised sorrowful eyes to Marguarita. “I swear I didn’t know. I really thought we had a chance here to get away from him. He’s the devil, Marguarita. Esteban does terrible things around him. And if he’s planning something to do with this ranch, it isn’t going to be legal or good,” she confessed. “I’m so sorry.”
Marguarita tapped the note again and sketched a question mark in the air between them.
Lea rubbed her temples. “DS hit me because I refused to do what he wanted.” A sob welled up. “Esteban just stood there while DS shoved me around.”
What does DS want from you and Esteban?
“He wants to meet a member of the De La Cruz family. He’s obsessed with the idea. He wants me to seduce one of them. He says if I don’t, that he’ll kill Esteban. I tried to talk to Esteban but he just laughed and said I’d better get it done then.” Lea wiped at the tears and shook her head. “I don’t have anywhere to go and no one to talk to. I can’t trust anyone. And I didn’t want to betray our friendship, but I don’t know what to do.”
The teakettle was steaming, so Marguarita rose to pour the boiling water into the teapot. She hastily scribbled a note as she did so and shoved it under Lea’s nose.