Hotter Than Hell(64)

Cat woke to the glory of an orgasm.



At first she wasn’t sure exactly what she was feeling. She’d almost forgotten what it was like; Neal hadn’t bothered to satisfy her in years. But she felt between her thighs and her fingers came away wet.



Panic sent her heart into overdrive. She sprang up and stood in the center of the room, searching every corner.



He wasn’t there. How could he be? He had been a dream, in a time and place that had seemed alien and yet utterly familiar.



A dream who had walked out of the shadows and into reality.



Cat sank into the chair and began to laugh. There was no reason for the levity except that she felt more than a little loco, and laughter seemed the best medicine for her ailment.



“Señora?”



Pilar was knocking on the door, undoubtedly alarmed by the racket. Cat put on her thick chenille robe and opened the door.



“I’m sorry to have disturbed you,” she said. “I’m all right. I just had a crazy dream.”



The older woman’s brown eyes were skeptical. “You should rest today, Señora Catalina. I will make you a good breakfast…”



“I’m not very hungry. I’ll take a little fruit, if you have any.”



“Si.” Pilar continued to regard Cat in a way that made her feel like a naughty little girl. “You say nothing happened to you last night?”



“Nothing.” Nothing that really mattered, anyway. “I think I’ll go for another ride this morning.”



Pilar sighed and walked back toward the kitchen. Cat showered, dressed in jeans and denim shirt, and grabbed a slice of melon and an apple on her way out the door. Turk wasn’t in the stables. Cat leaned on the corral fence, wondering if she ought to try saddling one of the horses herself. She’d done it a few times when she’d gone to riding camp as a teenager, but that had been a lifetime ago.



As she kicked at the dirt and debated her course of action, she looked up and saw the black horse.



He…and she had no doubt that it was indeed a “he”…stood outside the fence on the opposite side of the corral, unburdened by either saddle or bridle. His coat was a true black, not burned brown like so many dark horses. His mane was a luxurious ebon wave that fell almost to the bottom of his neck, and his tail was held high as a flag. A white star in the shape of a cross blazed his face.



Cat shivered, remembering how a horse exactly like this one had haunted her childhood dreams. He had been so far away then, impossible to catch. Now he stood no more than twenty yards distant, and his eyes—his strangely pale eyes—gazed at her with uncanny intensity.



She never knew why she did what she did then. Without a moment’s thought, she circled the corral and approached the horse, walking slowly and carefully. She still had the apple in her jacket pocket. Her fingers closed around the smooth, polished surface and pulled it out.



The stallion watched her come with elegant ears swiveled forward and nostrils flared. He arched his neck and shifted from foot to foot as if to display his strength and elegance. Cat felt no fear at all. She offered the apple in her extended hand.



He took it with remarkable gentleness, his lips sliding across her fingertips.



“You’re a beautiful boy,” she said, patting his silky neck. “Where did you come from?”



The stallion finished the apple, watching her all the while. He made a low, coaxing sound deep in his throat.



“You must be valuable,” she said. “Maybe I should go ask Turk who—”



The stallion reared, ears flat. Cat stepped back, suddenly aware of his sharp hooves and sheer size. It was almost as if he’d understood her.



“Okay,” she murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”



The stallion danced, tossing his head and eying Cat with suspicion. After a moment he approached her again, stretching his neck and nibbling her shoulder.



“I sure wish I knew what was going on in that head of yours,” she said. “Are you hungry? I can bring some oats…”



He snorted with contemptuous eloquence. His blue eyes seemed virtually human, the pupil more round than oblong. Cat was eerily convinced that he really did understand every word she said.



“What do you want?” she asked softly. “How can I help you?”



Drawing back his head, the stallion dropped to his knees. There was nothing in the least humble in his posture. He nickered an invitation.



Surely his odd behavior couldn’t mean what it seemed to mean. Cat moved to his side and laid her hand on his back. He rumbled approvingly.



“You want me to ride you?”