The Girl with the Golden Spurs. Ann Major

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СКАЧАТЬ was half-hidden in the mesquite and granjeño and palmetto fronds. Hunkered low over his saddle, the lone cowboy drilled her with such angry, laser-bright blue eyes she knew he was bad. Even after he realized she’d spotted him, he didn’t avert his predatory gaze or smile or even bother to apologize.

      No, bold as brass, his narrowed eyes roved from her face to her breasts and her thighs.

      Rigid with shock and not a little fear, she glowered back at his harsh, set face.

      “Who do you think you are—trespassing, spying on me?” she said, wishing for once that she was carrying a hateful gun like her daddy always advised.

      “If your daddy wasn’t a thief, you’d be trespassing, honey. This was Knight land for five generations.”

      English. He spoke English. Drawling, lazy, pure Texas English, but English. “So, you’re Cole…”

      Naturally she knew that Cole Knight was as bad as any bandit. Worse—if her daddy had his say.

      Cole lifted his hat and nodded, his hostile, white smirk mocking her. “Pleased to meet you, darlin’.” Not that he looked pleased.

      She wasn’t about to say she was pleased to meet him.

      He had longish black hair, dark skin and radar eyes that saw through a girl.

      “I’ve heard all about you,” she said. “You’re known to have a nasty vengeful disposition. You’re a gambler, too, and you’ve got a bad reputation with girls.”

      “Did your daddy tell you all that, little girl?”

      She refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting it, but she felt herself get hot and guessed her blushing was telling him more than she wanted it to.

      “Cole Knight is set on revenge against me, honey,” her daddy had told her, and more than once.

      “Why, Daddy?” she’d asked.

      “Oh, no reason. Just because he’s an ill-natured cuss if ever there was one.”

      “So, you’re Lizzy Kemble,” the handsome, ill-natured cuss drawled lazily in that pure-Texas accent of his, bringing her thoughts back to the present.

      When he edged his mount closer to hers, she instinctively backed hers up. Again he smiled and let his hot, sinful eyes devour the length of her body, taking liberties she’d never given any man—and certainly didn’t want to give the insolent likes of him.

      He stared until she was practically frothing with fury. Then he shot her another bold smile that made her skin really heat.

      “You blush real easy, don’t you, little girl? I like that.”

      “Well, I don’t like it, and I don’t like anything about you, either,” she snapped.

      “You barely know me.”

      “I know enough.”

      “Then why don’t you run, Little Red Riding Hood?”

      “Go away. Just go away!” she said. “Before somebody sees you here.”

      “You’ve seen me. Aren’t you somebody?”

      Before she could stop herself, “I don’t count for much around here.”

      He laughed at that, and some of the strain and anger left his dark face. He was handsome—too handsome for his good and for hers, too, she suddenly realized. This was bad. She wasn’t as immune to his charm as she needed to be.

      “I know that feeling…not counting for much,” he said, his voice low and beguilingly gentle now as he urged his big horse to sidle closer to hers. He tipped his hat back, so that she could see his beautiful, long-lashed eyes better. “It’s an awful feeling, isn’t it?”

      “I’ve got to go,” she said, studying the silky length of his lashes rather too fixedly.

      “You’re not scared of me, now are you, little girl?”

      “No! Of course not!”

      “Then stay. Relax. I’m not the big bad wolf. I’m just your neighbor. Maybe it’s time we got better acquainted.”

      She was about to say no, but Blackie charged through the brush, yapping his fool terrier head off at a rabbit that was running for his life. Panicked at the shrill barks, Pájaro reared slightly.

      When the rabbit and dog sprinted toward the gelding like a pair of bullets, Lizzy screamed, and Pájaro started bucking for all he was worth.

      “Keep your head, girl, and quit your screaming,” Cole yelled, moving swiftly toward her.

      Lizzy hollered again and again.

      “Hush,” Cole ordered, trying to grab her reins.

      “Get away!” she yelled, slapping at his hands with them.

      Then Blackie rushed under Pájaro’s hooves again, and the gelding tossed his head wildly and reared. Cole grabbed the reins just as Pájaro bolted. The reins flew out of his hands, and Lizzy clutched the saddle horn and the gelding’s mane and held on.

      Born to fly, Pájaro’s hooves pounded the earth as if ten demon terriers were chasing him straight to hell instead of one small dog. Lizzy was equally spooked. No way could she stop screaming now.

      Pájaro dashed straight through thorny brush—through mesquite, huisache and granjeño, racing for the middle of the herd. Lizzy clung desperately, fighting to hang on. If she fell, she could be trampled. Behind her, she heard Cole shouting instructions, but the cattle were bawling so loudly, she couldn’t make out what he was saying.

      Ahead she saw a low branch, so she bent low over Pájaro’s back. When he raced beneath it, thorns knocked off her hat and shredded the back of her blouse. Pájaro shot through a bunch of cattle, scattering them in all directions. Then he veered away from the herd back into the brush, racing at a full gallop for maybe five minutes.

      Her heart was thudding in terror, but still she held on. If anything the monster sped up. The man on the horse behind them seemed to be catching up, which made Pájaro even wilder to outrun them.

      Tightening her grip on the saddle horn and the coarse hair of Pájaro’s mane, somehow she endured the wild, thundering chase. Suddenly Cole and his horse were racing right beside her.

      “Let go!” a hard voice yelled. “I’ve got you.”

       Let go? Was he crazy?

      Even when she felt Cole’s powerful arm around her waist, her knees gripped Pájaro’s flanks and she held on to the saddle horn for dear life. But her strength was nothing compared to Cole’s, who yanked her off with seeming ease.

      Her hands were ripped off the saddle horn, and for a fleeting horrible second she was airborne between the two flying horses. Pájaro veered to the left, and Cole pulled her in front of him on his horse.

      “I’ve СКАЧАТЬ