Ben took her elbow and helped her to her feet. She was trembling—he could feel the continuous shivering beneath his hand—so he held on to her. Colby didn’t pull away from him like she normally would have and that worried him. “You want me to call an ambulance?”
Her emerald green eyes laughed at him even as they mirrored her pain. “Are you crazy? I have a headache, Ben.
The mere thought of contact with the Chevez family gives me major headaches.”
“Your brother and sister are both members of the Chevez family, Colby. You would have been too if the adoption had gone through.”
Colby ducked her head, his words hitting her dead center in her heart. Armando Chevez had never adopted her. He had confessed his reasons on his deathbed, hanging his head in shame, tears swimming in his eyes while she held his hand. He had wanted his grandfather to relent, to accept him back into the family. Due to the circumstances of Colby’s birth, Armando had known if he adopted her, his grandfather in Brazil would never allow him to come back to the family. It had been too late, then, to push the paperwork through. Armando Chevez was ashamed that he had betrayed her unconditional love for him for a family who had never answered a dying man’s letter. Colby had remained loyal and loving, nursing him, reading to him, comforting him right up until the day he died. And she still remained loyal to him. It didn’t matter that he had died before the adoption—Armando Chevez wasn’t her biological father, but he was her father all the same. In her heart, where it counted.
The way the Chevez family hated her had never mattered to her, but she loved Armando with every fiber of her being. She loved him with the same fierceness with which she loved her brother and sister. As far as she was concerned, the Chevez family didn’t deserve Armando and his children. And the two De La Cruz brothers, guardians and bullies for the Chevez family, could go straight back to whatever hell had spawned them. They were directly responsible for Armando’s grandfather’s bitter hatred of her.
She
wasn’t good enough to be a member of the Chevez family. Neither was her beloved mother. Armando’s grandfather had pronounced they would never be accepted into his illustrious family and his reasons had been abundantly clear. Colby’s mother had never married her father, there was no name on Colby’s birth certificate, and Armando’s grandfather would never accept an Anglo harlot and her bastard into his pureblood family.
As she and Ben moved around the vegetable garden toward
the ranch house, Colby slowed her pace, turning her mind inward for a moment to focus her strength of will on control. It was important to stay calm and relaxed and to breathe naturally. She tilted her chin and walked with her head up to meet the all-powerful De La Cruz brothers and the Chevez family members who had come to steal her brother and sister and their ranch.
They were gathered together on her small porch. Juan and Julio Chevez resembled Armando so much Colby had to blink back unexpected burning tears. She had to remember this was the family who had so cruelly rejected her mother because she had given birth to Colby out of wedlock. This was the same family who had callously ignored her beloved stepfather’s pleas and allowed him to die without so much as a word from them. Worst of all, they were here to take Paul and Ginny away and to confiscate the ranch, their father’s last legacy.
Ben saw her lift her chin and he sighed heavily. He had known Colby nearly all of her life. She had a stubborn streak a mile wide. If these men underestimated her because she was young and beautiful, because she looked small and fragile, they were in for a big surprise. Colby could move mountains if she set her mind to it. He had never seen anyone so determined, with such strength of will. Who else could have nursed a dying man and run a huge ranch with only the help of an old broken-down cowhand and two kids?
Colby walked right up to the two men, her slender shoulders straight, her small frame as tall as she could make it. “What can I do for you gentlemen?” Her voice was polite, distant, as she gestured toward the chairs on the porch rather than inviting them into her home. “I looked very carefully over the papers you sent and I believe I already gave you my answer. Ginny and Paul are United States citizens. This ranch is their legacy, entrusted to me to preserve for them. That is a legal document. If you wish to dispute it, you can take me to court. I have no intention of turning my brother and sister over to complete strangers.”
A man stirred back in the shadows. Her gaze jumped to his face, her heart pounding. It was strange she hadn’t noticed him immediately. He seemed blurred, a part of the gathering darkness. As he stepped under the porch light, she could see
he was tall and muscular, very imposing. His face held a harsh sensuality, his eyes black and cold. His hair was long, pulled to the back of his neck and somehow secured there. Every warning sense shrieked at her. He held up his hand, effectively silencing Juan Chevez before he could speak. That imperious gesture, stopping the proud, very wealthy Brazilian, set her heart pounding. She had a feeling he could hear it. The brothers moved aside as he glided silently forward. The parting of the Red Sea, Colby thought a little hysterically. Was there a touch of fear in the eyes of the Chevez brothers?
Colby stood her ground, trembling, afraid her rubbery legs might not hold her up. This man scared her. There was an edge of cruelty to his mouth and she had never seen such cold eyes, as if he had no soul. She forced herself to stand, not to look at Ben for assurance. Clearly this man could take a life and never think twice about it. That made her all the more determined to keep her brother and sister with her. If the Chevez family used him for protection, what did that say about them? She stared up at him defiantly. He bent closer, his black eyes staring directly into her green ones. At once she felt a magnetic pull. She recognized that touch from the mental attack on her in the field. Alarmed, she jerked back, twisting away from him to focus on Ben’s scuffed boots.
This man had psychic abilities just like her!
“I am Nicolas De La Cruz.” He said his name softly, his voice as mesmerizing as his eyes. “I wish you to hear these men out. They have come a long way to see you. The children are of their blood.”
The way he said “blood” sent a shiver running through her body. He didn’t raise his voice at all. He sounded perfectly calm and reasonable. His voice was a powerful, hypnotic weapon and she recognized it as such. If he used it in a court of law on the judge, could she combat it? She didn’t honestly know. Even she was somewhat susceptible. Her head was pounding. She pressed a hand to her temples. He was exerting subtle pressure on her to do as he bid her.
Colby knew she wouldn’t be able to resist the relentless force for long. Her head felt as if it might shatter. Pride was one thing, foolishness completely another. “I am going to have to ask you gentlemen to leave. Unfortunately, this is a
bad time for me. I’m afraid I’m ill.” Pressing a hand to her pounding head, she turned to Ben. “Would you please escort them out of here for me and I will try to schedule another meeting when I’m feeling better? I’m sorry.”
She jerked open the door to her home and fled inside to the safety of her sanctuary. Nicolas De La Cruz would be a powerful enemy. The pounding in her head from fighting off his mental attack was making her physically sick. She buried her face against her quilt and breathed deeply, waiting until she felt the steady pressure slowly retreating. She lay there a long time, terrified for her brother and sister, terrified for herself.
1
T
he huge chestnut
snorted, his eyes rolling wildly in his head. “Hang on to him, Paul,” Colby quickly warned her brother. The horse was sidestepping nervously, jerking his head, stiffening his legs.
“I can’t, sis,” Paul cried out as with a surge of savagery the animal swung around, breaking the boy’s precarious hold. Paul scrambled to safety, his anxious eyes on his sister’s slender figure.
The chestnut was crow-hopping, whirling, slamming into the fence with a resounding crash that shook the posts and the ground itself. Paul winced, his olive skin going pale beneath the dark tan. Colby was smashed up against the fence twice more before she hit the ground and rolled to safety beneath the rails.
“Are you all right, Colby?” Paul demanded anxiously, flinging himself on his knees beside her in the powdered dirt.
Colby groaned and rolled over to stare up at the darkening sky, a humorless smile curving her soft mouth. “What a stupid way to make a living,” she told Paul absently. “How many times has that worthless animal thrown me?” She sat up, pushing at the damp tendrils escaping from her thick red-gold
braid. The back of her hand left a streak of dirt across her forehead.
“Today or altogether?” Paul teased, then hastily wiped the grin from his face when she turned the full power of her eyes on him. “Six,” he answered solemnly.
Gingerly she stood up, swiping at the layer of dust on her worn, faded Levi’s. Ruefully she examined her tattered shirt. “Who owns this beast anyway? Whoever it is had better be someone I like.”
Carefully Paul brushed dust off her hat, avoiding her gaze. Unless a horse was being trained for rodeo riding, Colby allowed Paul to handle all the details. Worst possible luck. “De La Cruz,” he muttered apprehensively. At sixteen he was taller than his sister. Lean, tanned, already with the muscles of a horseman, Paul was unusually strong for his age. His face held the stamp of someone much older. He held out the weathered flat-brimmed hat almost as an offering of atonement to his sister.
There was a small silence while the wind seemed to hold its breath. Even the chestnut stopped snorting and reefing while Colby stared in horror at her brother. “Are we talking about the same De La Cruz who came to this ranch and
insulted
me? The same one who demanded we pack up our things and leave our father’s ranch because I’m a woman and you’re a child? That De La Cruz? The De La Cruz who
ordered
me to turn you and Ginny over to the Chevez family
and
gave me a whale of a headache with his insulting domineering disgusting male chauvinistic behavior?” Colby’s soft husky voice was nearly velvet, the delicate perfection of her face utterly still. Only her large eyes betrayed her mood. “Tell me we aren’t talking about
that
De La Cruz, Paulo. Lie to me so I don’t commit murder.” Her brilliant eyes were fairly shooting sparks.
“Well,” he hedged, “it was Juan Chavez who brought the horses over, sixteen of them. We had to take them, Colby. He’s paying top dollar and we need the money. You said yourself Clinton Daniels was pushing us about the mortgage.”
“Not their money,” Colby snapped impatiently. “
Never
their money. It’s conscience money, for their sins. We’ll find other ways to pay the mortgage.” She shook her head to clear
it of the anger welling unexpectedly out of nowhere. Slamming her hat against her denim-clad thigh, she muttered unladylike things under her breath. “Juan had no right to offer you the horses behind my back.” She glanced at her brother’s miserable face and instantly the anger evaporated as if it had never been.
She reached out to shove her hand affectionately through his jet black hair. “It isn’t your fault. I should have expected something like this and warned you. Ever since that family showed up, that De La Cruz person has been nothing but trouble. I wrote the letter to the Chevez family for Dad nearly three years ago. Isn’t it a blooming miracle they’re finally getting around to answering it?” Colby swung around to face the chestnut, watching it carefully with wary eyes. “This horse is probably their way of getting rid of me so they can have you. With me out of the way they might have a chance at taking you and Ginny with them back to their South American hellhole.
And
robbing you of your inheritance while they’re at it.”
Colby was short and slender with soft full curves, large deep green eyes fringed with lacy dark lashes, and an abundance of long silky hair. Shapely arms deceptively hid strong muscles. White scars marred the deep tan on her arms and on her small hands, showing the years of labor. Paul, watching the dimple melt into the corner of her mouth, felt a surge of pride. He knew how she hated her scars, her hands, yet they were so much a part of her. Unorthodox, free, untamable, so natural, there was no one like Colby.
“They live on a multi-million-dollar ranch,” Paul pointed out. “Posh. Probably a swimming pool, no work. Beautiful women. Sounds like a tough life to me. Maybe it’s a conspiracy and I’m in on it.”
“Are you telling me you can be bribed?”
He shrugged his wiry shoulders, winking at her with a little mischievous grin. “If the price is right you never know.” He tried to waggle his eyebrows and failed. “You don’t have to worry, Colby,” Paul offered suddenly, “I don’t think Mr. De La Cruz knew Juan brought the horses to us. In any case”—he shrugged pragmatically—“money’s money.”
“So it is, my boy.” Colby sighed.
At seventeen Colby had shouldered sole responsibility for
the ranch, her eleven-year-old brother, and six-year-old sister after a freak small plane accident had left their mother dead and Armando paralyzed. She had done so without a murmur of protest. Two years after the accident, her stepfather had insisted Colby write to his family in Brazil and ask them to come out quickly. He had known he was dying and he had put aside his pride to ask for help for his children. No one had answered, and their beloved father had died surrounded by his children, but without his brothers and sisters. Now, at sixteen, Paul could appreciate what these last five years had cost Colby. He did his best to take some of the load from her, knowing, for the first time in his life, what it was like to really worry about someone else. Each time Colby was thrown from a horse, he found his heart beating overtime.
Colby never complained, but he could see the signs of strain, the weariness growing in her. “You want to take a break? The sun’s down,” he suggested hopefully. No doubt Colby was bruised from head to toe. His eagle eyes noticed she was cradling her left arm.