The rational part of Cat’s brain knew how simple it would be for him to complete what he’d begun while she slept. How easy it would be to give in.
You want it. You want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life.
His fingers slipped under her panties, teasing hot and swollen flesh.
“So wet,” he murmured into her ear. “So ready for me.”
“I…I don’t…”
He traced her lips with his tongue while his fingers circled. “You do,” he said. “Tell me, gatita. Tell me what you want.”
She tried to answer, but he didn’t wait. He withdrew his hand and began to push her jeans down her thighs, working her panties off as he cupped her bottom. He released her hands and held her with the weight of his body while he unzipped his jeans. The heat of his cock caressed her inner thigh, eased over slick flesh, thrust aggressively against her damp curls.
Sanity returned like a blast of icy wind. Panic gave Cat strength she didn’t know she had. A sharp shove was enough to throw Andrés off balance. Cat stumbled away from the cottonwood and stopped, frozen by emotions that demanded more of her than she could ever give.
Andrés turned to face her, his expression unreadable. Slowly he bent and picked up her jeans. He tossed them toward her, and she caught them reflexively.
“I see that the time is not yet right,” he said. “But it will come, Catalina. It will come.”
Without another word he walked into the darkness. Cat pulled on her jeans, fingers numb and trembling. She could think of nothing but getting far away from this place, even if she had to walk all the way back to the ranch. It wasn’t fear of Andrés that drove her. It was fear of herself.
With only the vaguest idea of direction, she began to run, her ears straining for sounds of pursuit. Andrés didn’t follow. After ten minutes Cat’s legs were aching and her lungs burned for air. She slowed to a jog and then a fast walk. The vast sky had paled to sapphire, the stars flickering out one by one.
She estimated that she’d gone about two miles when Trueno reappeared. He trotted up alongside her, neck arched and hooves dancing as if he had nothing for which to be ashamed.
Cat stopped, chilled by the sweat cooling on her body. “Where have you been?” she asked, more weary than angry. “You couldn’t have picked a worse time to disappear.”
Trueno gazed at her without the slightest hint of shame. Cat laughed. “Of course not. You’re only an animal. I was the stupid one.”
The stallion shook his head with broad movements of his neck and shoulders.
“Yes. Stupid. I guess I’ve learned my lesson.” She began walking again, already contemplating what Turk and Pilar would say when she finally appeared at the ranch, windblown and limping from a bootful of blisters. Trueno slowed his walk to keep pace with her, occasionally lipping her collar or nickering in her ear. She pushed his head away.
“Someone must be missing you,” she said. “Go home, horse.”
He cut in front of her, pivoted around and butted her in the chest.
“Sorry. I’d rather walk this time.”
Trueno fell back, pawing at her dusty footprints. She thought he’d finally gone, and an immense weight of sadness collected in the space beneath her ribs. But then the soft clop of his hooves resumed, and she found a little extra energy to keep walking. She spotted the dark band of exposed basalt that marked the deep gorge of the Rio Grande and set her course beside it.
Turk and another cowboy met her around midmorning. The old hand dismounted and hurried toward her, his face long with concern.
“Miss Cat! Are you all right?”
Her skin went hot. “I’m fine.” She shoved her hands in her pockets. “Have you been looking for me?”
“Just about all night.” He tipped his hat back on his head and subjected her to a thorough examination. She was almost certain that he knew exactly what she’d been doing…how close she’d come to making a very bad mistake.
“I’m really sorry,” she said, staring at the toes of her boots. “It was very foolish of me to ride a horse I knew nothing about.”
Turk frowned. “What horse?”
She turned around. Trueno was gone.
“It’s a long story,” she said. “I promise I won’t let anything like this happen again.”
Even Turk’s unfailing courtesy couldn’t quite conceal his skepticism. “You’ll ride with me, Miss Cat.” He addressed the other cowboy. “Thanks for the help, John. I’ll take it from here.”
The cowboy waved and rode off. Turk held out his hand, pulling Cat up behind him.
Pilar met them at the house, tight-lipped with concern. Cat found it impossible to meet the older woman’s gaze. She retreated to her room, still trying to make sense of the nonsensical.
It was almost as if her mysterious encounters with Andrés were about much more than just sex. She’d never before been in the least bit tempted to make love with a complete stranger; she couldn’t dismiss the idea that her uncharacteristically wanton behavior had some rational basis.
Dreams aren’t rational. There’s no excuse for you, Catalina O’Roarke.
Night was slow in coming. Cat tossed and turned, imagining she felt invisible hands stroking her body. She got up, threw on her robe and went to the kitchen for a glass of milk.
Someone scratched on the front door.
Cat nearly dropped her glass. She set it down on the kitchen table, crept to the door, and checked the lock.
“Who is it?”
There was no answer. Just your imagination. But she was struck by the uncanny certainty that someone was waiting outside. Waiting for her.
Andrés.
Fear and anticipation held her paralyzed for a dozen heartbeats. She unlocked the door, holding her arm firm against the shaking of her fingers.
The porch was empty. Cat flipped on the light. A small, cloaked figure stood several yards away, dark eyes deeply set in a nut-brown face.
Cat released her breath. “Buenos noches,” she said. “Can I help you?”
The woman only stared. Cat stepped onto the porch, pulling her robe close around her throat. “Necesitas ayuda?”
Gnarled fingers shaped the sign of the cross. “Bruja,” the old woman whispered.
Witch. Cat remembered the word from the childhood stories Abuelita had so delighted in telling her. “I don’t understand,” she said.
“Cuidado conel caballo oscuro.”
“Qué?”
“Ha venido a jugar contigo.” The woman backed away, clutching the crucifix about her neck. “Cuidado. Cuidado!”
“Wait!”
“What is it, Catalina?”
Pilar stood in the doorway behind her, peering sleepily over Cat’s shoulder. “Who were you talking to?”
Cat drew Pilar back inside the house. “An old woman,” she said. “I’ve never seen her before. She came out of nowhere, gave some kind of warning, and then disappeared.”
“What did she say?”
“I didn’t understand all of it. First she called me a witch, and then she said something about a horse. At least I think she did.” Cat repeated the words the old woman had spoken.
“Beware the dark horse,” Pilar translated. “He has come to deceive you.”
All the warmth drained from Cat’s body. The dark horse. “What…what do you think she meant?”
Pilar sat down at the table. “I have heard stories about a black horse that wanders the meseta, a great stallion who has never been caught. Some say he is a ghost, others a demon.” She shook her head. “I myself have never seen the beast, but there is always talk, especially among the old.”
“Why would the old woman come to warn me?”