Eyes of the Cat Page 3

At least, that was how Tabitha interpreted his response. What he’d done was to turn his back to her and leap down four more branches.

  He’s right, she realized, gazing mournfully from the cat to the window. “I couldn’t possibly steel myself to climb back there, even if I wanted to return to that wretched room. The lesser of the two evils now is to continue the way I’m going.” The branches were large and sturdy, and there were plenty of them. With the worst part behind her, she supposed it wouldn’t be too terrifying to make it the rest of the way down.

  She managed it surprisingly well—for a dyed-in-the-wool acrophobe who was certain she was going to pass out and plummet to her death at any second. Except the tree seemed to have taken a distinct hankering for her clothes. Anything they could catch on, they caught. And ripped. And left pieces of themselves fluttering festively among the spring leaves like gay tartan streamers.

  She tried not to think about it—far too embarrassing—but by the time she made it to the lowest branches, she was down to hardly more than her corset, corset cover, plain white cotton drawers, and high button shoes. Even her modest black stockings had been shredded. Her long hair spilled about her shoulders; she was scratched, bruised, hot, flushed…

  And extremely perturbed when she reached the final position, where the cat sat waiting, and discovered that there were still nearly five yards between her and the ground. Fifteen feet to go, and no more branches. Marvelous.

  “All right, my fine furry friend, you got me into this. Now tell me how I’m supposed to get the rest of the way down.”

  Blinking enigmatic eyes, he swiveled, crouched, and sprang, landing lightly near the base of the giant trunk.

  “Yes, I was afraid you’d suggest something like that.” Tabitha sighed. “But are you sure that’s the only possible way? I mean really, really sure?”

  He peered up at her a moment, pointed ears on alert, swishing his tail from side to side, then suddenly turned—the now useless key still in his mouth—darted around the tree, and was lost to view.

  “I guess that means he’s sure.” She shook off an uncanny feeling that she was somehow being observed. Impossible, of course; there wasn’t a soul in sight. “I could call for help, I suppose… But that would rather defeat the entire purpose of an escape.” Not to mention, that whoever came would find her in little more than her undergarments. “I think I’d rather take my chances with the jump.”

  It might prove fatal, but if anyone saw her like this, she’d die of embarrassment anyway. So, drawing a deep breath and clamping her eyes shut, Tabitha leaned forward, let go of her branch, and dropped—

  Straight into a waiting pair of arms.

  Her eyes flew open. So did her mouth, but her scream shriveled in a scorching blaze of shock. She was too startled to breathe, let alone make a sound. The arms that had caught her were attached to a… Well, not a MacAllister, at any rate. She supposed she ought to be grateful for that. But…

  A Comanche?

  The Comanche were the people who had once roamed this part of Texas, weren’t they? She had thought they’d all been moved onto reservations, but one, at least, had stayed. That much seemed definite.

  A Comanche with clean-chiseled, motionless features and warm tanned skin. A Comanche with thick black hair grazing what would have been his collar, if he’d been wearing a shirt. A tall, powerful Comanche in the prime of manhood, with shoulders like a gladiator’s and deep amber eyes. Eyes that were fixed on her with the penetrating gaze of a cat. They seemed to bore straight into her soul. It was worse than distracting. It felt weirdly intimate, almost invasive, somehow.

  He was holding her so close, she was aware of every hard muscled contour of his bare chest. Too aware. The heat of his flesh sent the most indefinable tingles shivering through her. Tabitha had never felt anything like them before, and wasn’t at all sure she relished the sensation now.

  “Th-thank you,” she finally managed to strain out. “I-I’m extremely indebted to you, b-but do you think you could put me down?”

  The Comanche apparently did not think so. All he did was to shift her even closer, sending a fresh hot wave of those disturbing tingles washing over her.

  Oh! Perhaps he doesn’t understand.

  “Down. You. Put. Me. Down,” she enunciated slowly and distinctly, pointing to him, herself, and the ground.

  “Are you sure you’re able to stand?”

  Tabitha almost laughed with relief. He did speak English. Quite well, in fact, in a rich, husky baritone, with just a subtle touch of some nebulous accent.

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” she assured him. “Thank you, but it really is all right for you to… Really, I’m…fine…”

  What was he doing? He’d stopped listening and appeared to be engrossed in studying every inch of her, shifting her this way and that in his arms as though she were no more than a ragdoll. A very confused and unnerved ragdoll.

  “You’ve a lot of scratches,” he announced. “Not serious, I think, but they should be cleansed. I’ll take you where they can be seen to.”

  “No!” Tabitha squealed, as he began carrying her toward the castle’s towering keep. “Not there!”

  He halted in midstep, frowning. “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t let any of the MacAllisters see me!”

  “Aren’t you a MacAllister?”

  What? He thought she was… Well, she did have the MacAllister coloring. And probably to an Indian, all white people looked alike, anyway.

  “Oh, perish the thought,” she said with a shudder, and explained her predicament as quickly and coherently as possible, considering the circumstances. The Comanche’s gaze never left her face, and his granite expression never changed.

  “So, you see,” she finished a little breathlessly, “it’s imperative that I escape. Quickly! If you’ll help me, I’ll pay you whatever you ask.”

  “A tempting offer.” The man stared at her, an unreadable look in his eyes. “But you should be careful about agreeing to a price before you hear what it is. You can never be sure what a person might…propose.”

  “I don’t have time for bartering!” she snapped, not taking the time, either, to wonder why she was so willing to trust this stranger. Not considering that she was grabbing at straws, and not worrying that he might turn out to be as stable as a loose straw in a stiff wind. In desperation, she grabbed at him anyway. There were too many miles of wild open country between herself and Abilene to attempt both alone and on foot.

  Whoever he was, and whatever he was doing at the castle, it seemed obvious he wasn’t one of them. If he’d been allied with the MacAllisters, he’d have thrown her back to them already, wouldn’t he? Much as her inbred independence chaffed at the realization, she did need some sort of knight-errant to help rescue her. And the Comanche were kind of like knights, weren’t they, with their horses and long war lances? Gazing at his smooth, tanned skin, Tabitha fancied she could almost see the sheen of polished armor over it.

  “Please, there’s no telling how long I have before they discover I’m not in the tower, and the moment they do, they’ll come searching for me. I have to be well away from here by then! Won’t you help me? Please?”

  Those curious cat eyes locked onto hers, holding her firmer even than the powerful arms locked about her tense form.

  “And you’ll pay me whatever I ask?”

  She forced herself to meet his stare unblinking.

  “I promise.”

  The Comanche gave a short whistle, and out of nowhere it seemed, trotted a giant Appaloosa stallion, snorting and shaking his head. There was nothing on him save a blanket and a simple leather halter.

  Tabitha gulped. She wasn’t sure exactly what she had hoped for, but this wasn’t it. “I…I’m sorry. I do ride, but I’d never be able to handle him.”

  For the first time since she’d dropped out of the tree and into his embrace, the savage smiled.

  “No worry.” He winked. “I can.”

  With one fluid motion
, he tossed her onto the stallion’s back and leapt up behind her, spurring past the kitchens and several other low buildings toward the rear of the castle’s great inner courtyard. “We’ll use the postern gate. I left it open when I rode in tonight,” he called just a moment before they cleared the emergency exit through the back of the massive bailey wall.

  “What about the moat?” Tabitha gasped, seeing only a narrow footbridge spanning it at that point.

  For answer, her knight-errant spurred his charger faster.

  The moat was nearly twelve feet wide and waterless, due to the dry climate, but its bottom and sides were porcupined with sharp dagger-like stakes. Horrified, Tabitha watched it rushing toward them. He couldn’t possibly be planning to—

  She felt the Appaloosa gathering itself.

  Oh, God, he was!

  “Hold tight,” the Comanche ordered.

  Like she couldn’t figure that out for herself? Silly man. A dynamite blast couldn’t have loosened her grip as they soared through the air and landed with a jolt on the opposite side of the moat. A second lunatic leap, and they were flying over the outer palisade. The stallion never even broke stride as his hooves struck earth, but thundered off across the moonlit prairie like a giant dappled bat straight out of the jaws of Hades.

  Tabitha fought to regain her breath. She had a sudden mental image of something being thrown from a frying pan into the flames.

  The something was her.

  And the flames were in the Comanche’s glittering amber eyes…

  “We’ll need to stop here,” he finally spoke, some immeasurable distance later, as their mount slowed to a canter, then a trot, then an agitated walk. He pulled him to a halt by the side of a small spring, jerking the stallion’s head up when it stretched toward the water.

  “Why did you do that?” Tabitha demanded. “He’s thirsty!”

  “I don’t doubt it. He’ll get a drink as soon as he’s cooled off.” The savage jumped to the ground and lifted her down beside him. “This spring is fed from deep underground, and the water is cold. If I let him drink now, it could make him sick.”

  “Oh.” She backed a few hasty steps away. His hands had lingered on her a just little too long when he’d lowered her off the horse. As much as she appreciated his help, his way of offering it was beginning to grate on her nerves. “I wish he could be solicitous without being so…so tactile about it,” she muttered under her breath, watching warily as he harvested a handful of tall dry grass and used it to wipe down the stallion’s froth speckled flanks. Then, with a sharp slap, he sent the animal trotting off.

  “Don’t worry, he won’t stray far from the water.” He turned to Tabitha. “What was that you just said?”

  Drat the man, he must have ears like a fox.

  “Um…I was only asking if I should wait to drink, too,” she improvised, lowering her gaze.

  “A few more minutes might be wise. We can use the time to bathe your scratches.”

  Her gaze flew back to his. “We?”

  “You can’t reach the ones on your back,” he pointed out.

  And for the second time since she’d met him, the Comanche smiled. But to Tabitha, it suddenly looked like the hungry grin of a wolf.

  “My back can wait until I reach Abilene,” she said, turning that part of her anatomy toward him.

  “Did you know there’s a great rip in the seat of your drawers?”

  With a gasp, she spun around again, reaching behind herself. “Oh! You— There is not!”

  “I know. I just wanted to make sure I had your attention.” His expression turned to stone. “There’s something we need to discuss before riding any farther.”

  “What?” Her expression was beginning to take on the quality of a bayed rabbit.

  “My payment.”

  “Oh, but I can’t possibly pay you now. I thought you realized that.” She frowned in flustered confusion. “I was expecting to wire for funds from Abilene Station. I have no money with me.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of money.”

  He flashed her his third smile of the day, and Tabitha suddenly felt as though she were wrapped in ice. Ice so cold it burned her. No… It was the gleam in his eyes that was burning her. So it had come to this, had it? Her knight had become a dragon? She steeled herself to meet his look without wavering.

  “What, then? What do you want?”

  As if I don’t know, she thought.

  “What do I want in payment?” He took a step forward. “It may surprise you.”

  “Really?” She struggled to keep her voice level. Was the man an idiot? Surely he didn’t think she was that naive. “Try it,” she said ominously, “and I may surprise you.”

  He stopped dead in his tracks, threw back his handsome head, and howled with laughter. “Tabitha Jeffries, after seeing you leap out of that tree in your underwear, I doubt there’s anything you could do that would surprise me!”

  It snapped her tense control. An attempted assault was bad enough, but being made fun of was absolutely, positively intolerable. She flew at him like a five-foot-two, hundred pound freight train, knocking him several steps backward. She fought like a wildcat on wheels. It took him several minutes to bring her even partly under control. And then another one to wrestle her to the ground.

  “I was wrong,” he panted out, his breath hot on her face as she battled beneath him. “You do surprise me.”

  Tabitha tried to spit at him, but her mouth had gone dry. “Wa-water,” she croaked—and went limp, as though she’d swooned.

  She felt his lean, hard torso relaxing against her, watched from beneath lowered lashes as his expression changed from suspicion, to concern, to genuine alarm. Then she was free of his weight and studying his muscular back in the moonlight as he knelt by the spring. When he rose and turned around from it, she was standing there, brandishing his own belt knife before herself like a miniature saber.

  The Comanche heaved a ragged sigh, and let the water in his cupped hands spill onto the parched prairie. “Full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said simply. “But enough for now. I’m tired. Give me the knife.”

  “Try and take it. Just try!”

  “If you insist.”

  And the next thing Tabitha knew, the knife was somewhere in the nearby brush, and she was snug against the Comanche’s solid, naked chest. His arms tightened about her like iron bands, pulling her off her feet, bringing her face level with his.

  “Any other requests?” he whispered, his lips grazing hers.

  “Y-yes”—an intensified replay of those wild, weird tingles sucked the air out of her lungs and stampeded all coherent thought from her head—“p-please don’t d-do this.”

  “Do what?” His lips brushed hers again.

  “K-kiss me!” she gasped.

  “If you insist.”

  His mouth covered hers.

  An electric shiver jolted through her, like a lightning strike. Her whole body went rigid—then melted into his. Much to her amazement, she kissed him back. Kissed him fervently and full and hard and deep.

  Who was this girl?

  His hold released, and she dropped back to earth, staggered as he stepped away. Breathing heavily, he stood there staring at her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t possibly piece together.

  “To think I believed there was nothing else you could do to surprise me,” he said on a husky rasp. “I’m beginning to wonder if there’s anything about you that isn’t a surprise.” Spinning on a moccasined heel, he whistled for the stallion. “We’d best go now.”

  What? He was still going to take her to Abilene?

  Tabitha watched through a cloudy red haze as the Comanche led his Appaloosa to the spring. Gradually, her breath and pulse returned to normal. She shook her head. It was impossible to accept what had just happened.

  I don’t do things like that. I don’t even consider them!

  Maybe it was some kind of momentary hallucination?

  “I must have hit my skull in the scuffle
and imagined the whole thing,” she told herself. “I mean, I know I’ve been up to some foolish business lately, pretending to be Lady Gabrina and all. But there was a good reason for that.”

  What possible motive could she have had for…for kissing him?

  At the memory of his lips on hers, her recalcitrant body flooded her with so many reasons, she couldn’t suppress a groan.

  The reason for the groan glanced over his shoulder at her. “You’d best come drink. ’Tis a dry ride back.”

  Still dazed, Tabitha walked to the spring. “It never happened. I never did that. I imagined it,” she repeated inaudibly, over and over, while drinking and splashing cold water on her face and arms.

  That’s right. You imagined it, a voice spoke in her mind. And you’ll go on imagining it. If you live to be a hundred, you’ll never forget it.

  “Oh, shut up,” she said.

  The Comanche glanced at her, the ghost of a grin haunting his lips. “Who are you arguing with?”

  “Myself,” she answered through clenched teeth. “I do it a lot.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Interesting. You must always win, then.”

  “No, hardly ever.” She sighed. “Can we go now, please?”

  The moment they were remounted, he swung the stallion’s head in the direction they had previously galloped from.

  “Wait a minute!” Tabitha squirmed around to glare at him.

  “Do you know your eyes flash like emeralds in the moonlight?”

  “Don’t change the subject. This isn’t the way to Abilene!”

  The arm about her waist tightened. “I realize that.”

  “But you promised!” She struggled against his hold.

  “So did you. Sit still or you’ll startle the horse,” he ordered, as she tried to throw herself free.

  “This isn’t fair.” She pulled as far away from him as was possible in the short space on the stallion’s back.

  He yanked her back against himself, sending a hot flush spiraling through her. “Isn’t it? I kept my end of the bargain.”

  “You did not. You said you’d take me to Abilene!”

  “I said I’d help you away from the castle. And that, I did,” he corrected. “I never promised I’d not return you.”