Six White Horses Read online

  Her heart gave a frightened leap as she noticed the deliberately slow descent of his mouth. Twisting her head out of its path, she gasped at the provocative touch of his lips along her neck. Flames of sensuous delight licked her skin, emanating from the sensitive area he was exploring.

  "Let me go," she breathed erratically, afraid to struggle too vigorously and loosen the precarious hold on her bath towel.

  "Kissing you seems to have become a habit with me lately," he murmured against her neck.

  "It's a bad habit," Patty answered in an angry whisper, fighting the involuntary shudders quaking to her toes.

  Her head was twisted as far to the side as it could go, but his slowly searching mouth was making its way surely to hers. She tried to elude him by turning her face to the opposite side, an action Morgan had anticipated. His hand was there to halt her chin so the drugging warmness of his mouth could find hers.

  The possessive firmness of his kiss acted like a hallucigen as a psychedelic display of rainbow colors exploded in her mind. Patty resisted the fascinating pull of the whirling display just as she resisted the pressure of his hands and the expert persuasion of his mouth.

  The awkwardness of maintaining her scanty attire kept her attempts weak and unsuccessful. Only when Morgan chose to end the embrace was she allowed to pull free.

  Wide, accusing eyes snapped their displeasure as she put a hasty step between them. The direction of the movement was toward the hallway door so she could escape should he try to approach her again. Her jerky, uncoordinated move had loosened the tuck she had made to keep the towel around her. When she tried to refasten it and watch Morgan at the same time, her fingers turned into thumbs of awkwardness.

  "Here, kid, let me do that for you," Morgan said grinning.

  "Don't you come near me!" she warned in a husky voice, clutching the loosened towel with both hands.

  But he took a step toward her anyway, catching her by the waist with a second step when she turned to run down the hallway. She twisted and wiggled to be free, kicking at him with her bare feet and encountering only the hard leather of his cowboy boots.

  "If you don't stop it," a gleam of amused indulgence glittered in his face despite the firmness in his voice, "I'm going to throw you on that bed. Now, stand still."

  Patty started to ignore his command and continue her struggles, until she felt his hands on her waist and her feet being lifted from the floor.

  "All right!" she said, gasping out her agreement in a panicked voice.

  Morgan set her on the floor. "You're the hardest person in the world to help." His large hands retained their grip on her waist as he expected her to start fighting him again.

  "Nobody likes to accept help from people they don't like," Patty jeered. "And if you were truly interested in helping me and not embarrassing me, you would leave this room and give me privacy to get dressed."

  An uncaring shrug moved the shoulders in front of her. "You may be right. I'll try to remember that the next time something like this occurs."

  Patty breathed in sharply in anger, ready to issue a cutting retort, only to have her breath stolen as he pulled the edges of the towel from her fingers. His movements were swift and sure. Before she could recover from her surprise, the towel was firmly in place. The tingling warmth in the breast he had accidentally touched sent hot flames of embarrassment up her neck.

  "You're all cinched up again," Morgan laughed sensuously. "Do you feel better?"

  "I won't feel better or safe until you're out of my sight!" she retorted.

  The grooves remained around his mouth as his gaze narrowed on her face. The hand that had been negligently hooked in his waistband moved to capture her chin.

  "I'd hate to have you find out you're wrong about thinking that way," he murmured.

  Her fingers closed over the steel sinews in his wrist, trying to push his hand away from her chin. Then the firm pressure of his mouth was against hers, lingering and warm. Patty halted her useless efforts to push his hand away and worked on the strong chin and powerful jaw.

  "Well, well, well, what's going on here?" The curious, laughing question of her grandfather relaxed Morgan's hold and Patty wrenched her face away.

  There was nothing hurried or guilty in Morgan's actions as he turned toward her grandfather. "You should have come in sooner. A minute ago, Patty was in danger of losing her towel."

  "Will you tell him to get out of my bedroom?" Her voice shook with frustration, anger and humiliation.

  "That sounds like her grandmother's rolling-pin voice," Everett King chuckled. "You'd better retreat while you're still in one piece, Morgan."

  Before leaving, Morgan ran a finger across a crimson cheek, pushing the tip of her slightly tilted nose, then pulling it quickly away so her hand slashed impotently through thin air.

  "Get some clothes on," he said, issuing a mock order. "Girls shouldn't run around like that in front of men. It can give them ideas."

  "Get out of here, Morgan Kincaid!" Patty threatened, her powerless temper bringing her close to tears. "Get out of here before I scream the walls down!"

  He met her glaring gaze and winked, "It's all right, Skinny. I'm going right now, but you really don't have to put on an act for your grandfather's benefit."

  She stared at his retreating broad back in speechless fury. How dared he insinuate to her grandfather's listening ears that she had enjoyed his kisses? Nothing could have been further from the truth and he knew it! With an angry exhalation of breath, Patty slammed the door, stomping to the small closet to yank out some clothes to wear.

  As she dressed, she heard their quiet voices filtering into her room from the opposite end of the trailer. With her clothes on and the towel removed from her wet hair, the voices faded, the outside door opened and closed three times. Once the snarls were combed out of her hair, Patty walked to the door, listened silently and heard nothing. Morgan was gone.

  Or so she thought until she walked into the hallway and saw the ebony blackness of his hair against the ivory curtains at the window behind the couch. The roughly carved face was turned toward her, knowing blue eyes holding her frozen look. When his gaze released her to lazily sweep over her denim jeans and checked blouse, Patty pivoted back toward her bedroom, determined not to endure his insufferable presence another second.

  "Patty, come in here," her grandfather called out loudly.

  "What for?" Her hand remained poised on the doorknob to her room, and she did not turn around to meet the laughing glitter that she knew would be in Morgan's eyes.

  "Do you remember where I put your résumé? I've looked everywhere and can't find it." The shifting of papers muffled his reply.

  "It's in the folder with those publicity photographs," she answered tautly.

  "I can't find that either," sighed Everett King. "I don't know where you hide things in this darn trailer!

  "Can't I look for it later?"

  The faintly desperate ring to her voice prompted a throaty chuckle from Morgan. "What she means, gramps, is after I leave."

  Patty whirled around, dislike flashing in her eyes. "Yes, that is exactly what I mean!"

  "This is business, Patty," her grandfather inserted with calm firmness. "There's no room for childish tantrums in business. Morgan wants to take the résumé with him when he leaves."

  The quiet reprimand unwillingly moved her feet toward the tiny living room. "Why does he need it?" she challenged defiantly.

  It was Morgan who replied instead of her grandfather. "A feature writer for the local newspaper wants to do an in-depth article on rodeo life and the people and animals who take part. Since your specialty act follows the circuit, I thought I'd get some background material on you."

  "Morgan plans to meet the reporter tonight," her grandfather added, "and I've arranged it so he can interview you tomorrow after you've practised."

  "By supplying the background material about your age and experience beforehand, it should save a lot of needless questions at the int
erview," Morgan explained.

  It was difficult to dispute the logic of their arguments, as much as Patty wanted to, if only to thwart Morgan. The corners of her mouth were pulled grimly downward in resignation as she walked to the small bureau against the wall near her grandfather. Flipping through papers stacked on the shelf, she quickly found the folder containing the information Morgan wanted. Without a word, she handed it to her grandfather and retreated to the kitchen.

  "That should do it," Morgan said crisply, and Patty knew her grandfather had given him the résumé.

  She kept her back to the two men as she heard Morgan get to his feet and walk to the outside door. The tingling along the back of her neck said that he was looking at her.

  "I'll be going now," he said in a mocking undertone. "I know how anxious Patty is to talk to you about her decision, Everett."

  Stiffening angrily, she heard her grandfather's curious voice ask, "Her decision?"

  "She's decided that this circuit isn't big enough for the two of us. Next year she wants you to book her on a different one." Morgan explained with open amusement.

  Gritting her teeth, Patty glared over her shoulder at his masculine countenance. "I have a half notion to stay just to make your life as miserable as you make mine, except that I'm tired of getting sick to my stomach every time I look at you!"

  His gaze narrowed even as his mouth curved into a mirthless smile. "It's been hell knowing you, too, Skinny."

  He then flicked a look at her grandfather. "I'll see you later, Everett."

  Her fingers dug into the edge of the kitchen counter, an unaccountable tightness in her throat at the sound of the door closing behind Morgan. Patty liked to be liked by others. Although she despised Morgan Kincaid, there was an odd little hurt that he should dislike her with equal fervor.

  "What's all this about, Patty?" her grandfather asked gently.

  "I simply can't stand it anymore!" She shook her head vigorously. "Everywhere we go, he's there! Tormenting me, making fun of me, ordering me around."

  "You don't exactly turn the other cheek." There was a brief lifting of his brow in affectionate reproval.

  "No, I don't," Patty sighed. "I don't mind so much being called Skinny and Annie Oakley and kid. I know I'm not a raving beauty even if I am fairly attractive. But I can't stand it when he starts tormenting me about Lije. The wounds never get a chance to heal."

  "Maybe he's just trying to make sure all the poison is out so they'll heal without leaving a scar," her grandfather suggested.

  "Morgan Kincaid?" she scoffed. "That's hardly likely. No, I've made up my mind, grandpa. Next year I want to be on an entirely different circuit as far from him and everyone else as we can get."

  "Well, if you've decided and you feel that strongly about it, you can consider it done." He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. "Now, pour me a cup of coffee."

  She hadn't expected his capitulation to be that easy. Smiling, she realized that she had forgotten how very understanding her grandfather was.

  "You don't mind, do you, grandpa?" She blinked at the tears gathering in her eyes. "I know you have a lot of friends on this circuit."

  "I'll make a lot more on another one," he said, winking at her. "Should I toss a coin to see whether we'll go north, east or west?"

  Wrinkling her nose at him, she smiled and brushed an affectionate kiss on his leathered cheek. "I love you, grandpa. I don't care which way we go. You choose."

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  Chapter Four

  "HOW'S LIBERTY?" Patty asked, tying her hair back with a scarf as she studied the six white horses lined up in pairs.

  "The swelling's gone down," Everett King answered. "I couldn't feel any heat in his legs, but I'd take it easy. Get them accustomed to the new arena and loosen them up some, then we'll see."

  "Right," she nodded.

  Wiping the perspiration from her palms onto the faded denim Levi's, Patty walked to the right rear horse and agilely vaulted onto his bare back. Stroking Loyalty's neck, she waited patiently while her grandfather made certain none of the reins were tangled before he handed them to her. With her grandfather walking at Liberty's head, they made their way to the arena.

  The horses snorted and bobbed their heads at the newness of their surroundings as Patty guided them around the arena at a walk. As their interest reverted back to her, she stood on Loyalty's back, shifting one foot to Landmark when she had achieved her balance. Taking a wrap of the reins, she urged them into a canter, weaving them snakelike through the center of the arena, their friskiness leaving as they settled down to work.

  Only once during the practice sessions did Patty take the horses through the routine she used for the performance. Constant repetition tended to make the horses anticipate each move before she gave them the signal. That anticipation would lessen her control in the event of a problem, minor or major. She slowed them to a halt at the arena gate where her grandfather stood.

  "What do you think?" she asked, glancing from the tossing heads to him.

  The expectant look on her face faded as she saw she had acquired an audience. Standing beside her grandfather were Morgan Kincaid, an attractive blonde in a cranberry red pantsuit, and a slender man with glasses and camera equipment hanging around his neck. Hiding her resentment at their intrusion on her private practice session, Patty nodded politely to the two strangers who were obviously from the local newspaper.

  "Liberty doesn't seem to be favoring his legs. Shall we try a jump, grandpa?" she asked.

  He didn't immediately reply as he climbed over the fence and walked over to run an examining hand down Liberty's legs. After an affectionate slap on the horse's rump, the lean wiry man made his way to Patty.

  "We'll make it a small one, two and a half feet. I don't want to put any strain on him, not with the performance tonight," he stated, and Patty nodded agreement. Looking past her, Everett King called out, "Morgan, will you give me a hand setting up the jump?"

  When Morgan excused himself to help her grandfather, Patty noticed the way the blonde watched him swing effortlessly over the fence into the arena. She had been exposed to that animated look before. It often occurred when a woman came in contact with the aura of virility that surrounded Morgan.

  As Patty moved the horses out at a walk, she wondered why so many women found his male charm so exciting when she was repulsed by it. Repulsed was probably not the right word, she decided. Perhaps her love for Lije made her immune to his attraction, or perhaps it was just that the animosity between them was too strong.

  The jump was set. Instead of walking to the gate, her grandfather and Morgan moved to the center of the arena. There must be something about Morgan to like, Patty thought, as the now trotting horses approached the side of the two men, otherwise her grandfather wouldn't regard him as highly as he did.

  Liberty stumbled slightly and Everett King immediately waved her to the center of the ring. Again the experimental hand was run knowingly down the horse's leg while the other horses moved restively.

  "Maybe you should shift him to the wheel position," Morgan suggested quietly. "He's been about a step behind his partner all the time."

  "Liberty has always been slower," Patty defended the horse quickly. "That's one of the reasons why we put him in the lead pair, to steady the others."

  Except for a thoughtful look, Morgan ignored her comment. Her grandfather moved away from the white horse, nodding his approval without glancing at Patty.

  "Take 'em over," he ordered.

  Moving them away from the center she urged them into a canter, narrowing their circle to avoid the jump for three times around the arena. Each time the six horses went by the small jump, their ears pricked toward it, waiting for the signal that would take them over. Only when Patty was satisfied with the even rhythm of their gait did she widen their circle to put them in the path of the jump.

  Checking Landmark's increase in stride as they neared the white rails, Patty noticed the high arch to Liberty
's head. While his lead partner gathered himself for the jump, Liberty hesitated for an instant, on the point of refusal before he hurdled the jump. That hesitation threw the others off in their stride.

  Patty's heart was in her throat, waiting any second for the fall of one or more of the horses. She had to shift both feet onto Loyalty's back when Landmark fell a neck behind. The small height of the jump was the rescuer as all the horses made the jump cleanly with the exception of Liberty, who clipped the top.

  Her knees were trembling badly as she continued the six horses on their circle around the track, ignoring her grandfather's voice when he called her in. Twice around she went, settling the horses into a steady canter and waiting for her legs to stop shaking beneath her. Then she widened their circle to include the jump again, certain in her own mind that Liberty's easy stride indicated he was not hurt.

  The pricked ears signaled the nearness of the jump. Her voice urged the first two horses over. This time Liberty did not hold back, but leaped into the air in perfect precision with his teammate Lodestar. Not until they had made an almost complete circle of the track after the jump did Patty draw a breath of relief and turn the horses toward the stern countenance of her grandfather.

  "I nearly found out what the arena tasted like on that first one!" Her laugh was shaky with the closeness of her call.

  "That was a damned foolish stunt!" Morgan snapped, eyes the color of cutting blue diamonds glaring at her from the harsh ruggedness of his face.

  "If Liberty had hung back the second time, I would have turned them away from the jump," Patty retorted sharply. "If I'd let him get by with it this morning, he might have tried to refuse tonight. On a bigger jump you know he wouldn't have been able to clear it at the last minute like he did this one."

  "Your grandfather didn't think so. He called you in—or didn't you hear him?" Morgan already knew she had, but he was deliberately baiting her.