Read Native Silver Online

Authors: Helen Conrad

Native Silver (2 page)

He waited for her to answer, gazing at her silently, but she didn’t have a thing to say. She
could deny it, but her flaming cheeks would give
her away.

“I guess you must,” he said softly. “I’d hate to
disappoint you.” He began to move towards her,
slowly sloughing through the silver stream, while
she began to back away again, her heart pounding
in her chest. The water was peeling away from
him, curling like the opening of a flower, and she watched, almost spellbound by the shining wake
that came nearer and nearer.


Do you expect me to take you here, right in the water?” His voice was low and rich, like aged brandy from a crystal snifter. “Or would you prefer I drag you out
onto the bank and make passionate love to you on
the rocky shore?” He grimaced. “Sounds painful to
me, but I’ve always been an accommodating sort.”
He tilted his head to the side as he came closer.
“Whatever you want, lovely trespasser.”

The sound of his voice seemed to seep into her
consciousness with maddening seduction, like a stealthy drug. He was coming too close. She should be frightened, angry. Why was she feeling excitement instead? She was going out of her mind
!

She turned to look for an escape route along the bank, grasping at straws. The rocks were slippery, but she managed to balance from one to another, still shoulder deep
in the water. She heard him close behind her an
d made a lunge for the bank, but this time the r
ock beneath her foot slid out from under her. Before she knew what had happened, she was
careening down under the water, her arms flailing
.

“Right into his lap,” she thought with dismay as he
reached out and pulled her up again, setting her to
rights but keeping a firm hold on her wrists that he didn’t release once she was on solid footing again, coughing the water out of her lungs and feeling an
utter fool.

He was in no hurry to release her and she
couldn’t even run a quick hand across her hair to
smooth it down and press out the water. She risked
a glance into his eyes, trying to assess how she
looked to him, angry at herself for caring, but caring anyway.

That turned out to be a mistake. His eyes
shone with amusement. Was he laughing at her clumsy fall, her naked body, or her disheveled
appearance? She couldn’t tell.

“Let me go,” she managed to force out, but not
with the conviction she wanted to show.

“Not a chance,” he replied with easy arrogance.

She pulled as hard as she could, but his grip
didn’t slacken. The harder she pulled, the wider he
smiled.

She was fuming by now, almost sure that he
meant to do nothing to harm her, but still harboring the tiniest doubt.
 

“I’m sorry I ever came to your
stream,” she hissed at him. “If you’ll just turn your head,
I’ll get out of it and off your land.”

“Turn my
head?” His gaze dropped deliberately an
d she squirmed, knowing he could see much too
much through the crystal-clear water. “But then I wouldn’t get another look
at your lovely body.”

She’d been hoping he wouldn’t bring up just how
much of her he’d already seen. If he hadn’t said
anything, she might have been able to pretend she’d
forgotten herself. She hoped her glare was as
ferocious as she felt.
 

“That is precisely the idea,” she i
nformed him. “It’s only fair.”


No.” He shook his head slowly. “I won’t agree to
that.”

He tilted his head back as though to get a better look at her, narrowing his eyes against the filtered
sunlight. The drops of water caught among his thick
black lashes looked like diamonds. His broad shoulders rose from the surface of the water looking strong and tanned, evidence that he’d already
been getting a lot of sun this summer.

She wished she could keep her mind off just how attractive he was. She wasn’t afraid of him--not exactly. Not afraid that he would do anything to her against
her will. But she was disturbed by him, by this
situation. He was a Santiago. She was supposed to
hate him. It was family tradition. Instead, here she was, wishing . . . Oh no, she couldn’t admit that, even to herself. Her
pulse was racing, beating a crazy rhythm in her
throat. She had to make a retreat as quickly as possible.

“Be fair,” she repeated stubbornly and he smiled.

“Fair,” he whispered softly, musing over the word. Suddenly, he dropped her wrists and took
her face between his hands, studying her as though she were something new to him. She found herself staring up into his
eyes, wondering what she would do
if he were to lower his wide, finely etched mouth to
kiss her.
 

Instead, he spoke and she felt a traitorous
flutter of disappointment.

“What’s your name, water sprite? And where did
you ride in from?”

She hesitated, wondering if he would recognize her by her given name. But there was no spark of recognition in his eyes. He’d obviously not connected her with his own history. And she doubted
very much he would remember the one time they’d
met before.
 

“Shawnee,” she told him at last.

“Shawnee.” He rolled the name across his tongue
and smiled, still holding her. “It fits you.” He
glanced up on the bank to where her horse stood
quietly waiting, his ears pricked forward as though
listening for her return. “I don’t remember seeing you, or your horse, around here before. Are you
just passing through, or are you here to stay?”

How could she go into all the circumstances of her life standing here, naked, talking to this man?
“I’ve told you my name,” she said as firmly as she
was able, “and that’s enough.”

He grinned, threading his strong fingers into her
wet hair. “I’m David Santiago, water sprite. My
family owns this land you’re swimming on. And I’m
not going to ravish you, tempting as that may be.” He drew back, letting her go. “I’m setting you free.
My only condition is that you finish the swim I
interrupted. And I’ll do the same.”

With a casual salute, he dived away from her,
and she watched him go, his body brown and shimmering under the water, while relief wrestled
with some unnamed emotion for control of her mind. Her first impulse was to scramble up the
bank and run for Miki, but she realized that would
lead to a Lady Godiva act even more embarrassing than the
Venus Rising from the Sea part she’d just
played. And, sad to say, she didn’t quite have the
hair for it.

Besides, she whispered to herself, a Carrington
wouldn’t run from a Santiago. So she moved about in the cold water, pretending to be having the swim of her life, and all the while, every nerve in her body was carefully tuned towards the man who splashed it the other side of the pool, aware of everything he
did
without ever actually looking fully at him.

What would her grandfather think of this, she
wondered suddenly, biting her lip. He’d trained her
against the Santiagos. She was pretty certain he
would consider it consorting with the enemy. And
in the war between the two families, that wouldn’t
be condoned.

She sighed, shoulders sagging. Not back a full day, and already thrust right into the midst of it
again. She’d forgotten how strong the emotion
could be, how much of her life had been consumed
with bitterness towards the people who had stolen the Carrington land.
 

These last few years, living and working in Marin County, three hundred miles to
the north, she’d had other things to occupy her
mind. That was one of the reasons she’d moved
north in the first place, to get away from all this. But
now, since the small plane accident that had taken her parents just a few years before, Granpa Jim was all she had left, besides
her sister Lisa, married to a local dairy farmer.
 

It had been a telephone call from Lisa that had brought her back from her self-imposed exile in Marin County where she’d been working as a libr
ary assistant for the last few years.
She thought about that conversation now as she
moved through the cool water. It was almost as
though she’d been waiting for an excuse to come
home. She’d certainly jumped at the chance when it
was offered.

“How is he?” she’d asked, as she always did. “How’s Granpa?”

Lisa had let out a long sigh. “As well as can be
expected, I suppose. He doesn’t really care much any more. Well, he
is
in his eighties. I guess he should be allowed to let go. But he’s getting to
the point where he’s going to need full-time help.
And . . . well, I do think his mind is starting to slip.”

Shawnee’s hands had felt icy cold. “What do you
mean?”

“It’s more than the usual drivel about Rancho
Verde and how the Santiagos stole his land. He’s
started seeing things.”

Shawnee remembered feeling a strange calm
coming over her, as though she’d known a struggle
was coming to an end. Her way was becoming clear. “What kind of things?”

“Some of them are pretty weird and nebulous.
The other day he insisted there was someone in the house trying to get him to sign some papers.”

She found herself nodding. “How do you know it
wasn’t true?”

“Come on, Shawnee. What would anyone be
trying to get him to sign? It’s all crazy.”

She’d shrugged that away. “Is it?”

“You know it is. He really does need more looking a
fter. I run over at least once a day, but Brad needs
me here and he gets peeved if I spend too
much time over there.”

“Of course. You’ve got a dairy to run. How are
the cows?”

Lisa’s voice rose with her annoyance like the
mercury on a thermometer. “The cows are fine. The c
ows are great.” Her quick breath echoed along the
phone line. “Really, Shawnee, I don’t know why
you persist in imagining me to be some sort of
modern-day milkmaid. There’s a lot more to the
dairy business than milking the cows. We do have
machines for that, you know. There are more
important things for me to do. There are contacts to
be made, images to project. It’s not all as earthy
and basic as you imagine. You ought to come down
and see for yourself.”

Yes,
Shawnee agreed silently.
I ought to do that
. It had
been five years since she’d left the sleepy Destiny Bay back country valley and moved north. Maybe it was time to go home.

“Does he ever ask for me?”

“Who?”

“Granpa Jim.”

There was a pause. “Yes. Yes, he does.”

“What does he say?”

Lisa sighed, and Shawnee heard affectionate
resignation in the sound. “You know how he is. He hasn’t seen you much lately, so he thinks you’re still about seventeen. He’s sure you’re the only one who
ever understood about Rancho Verde and he
thinks you’ll still want to hang around and listen to all his old stories like you did when you were a kid.
He misses you. He thinks you’re the only one who
cares.”

“Maybe he’s right,” Shawnee whispered, knowing
that was hardly fair to her sister who had done
all
the outright caring for five long years, but know
ing Lisa had never shared her grandfather’s memories the way she did herself.

“What?”

“I’m coming down.”

“Oh. For a visit?”

“To stay.” Her mind was made up. She should
have done it long ago. When she’d begun working with Miki, she’d begun to dream of what they could accomplish together. Miki was ready, but Shawnee
had been putting off making the commitment. Now
there was no room left for excuses. It was time to
put it to the test.

“To stay? But…”

“I’ll stay with Granpa Jim. It’s time I came, don’t
you think?”

And here she was, back home, and with her had come the horse that she hoped would help Granpa Jim win a moral victory over the Santiagos, some
thing to return the glow to his face, something to
cherish before he died.

But first she had to find a way to pull herself out
of this thoroughly embarrassing situation. She’d been in the water long enough. In fact, her fingers were turning into skinny little prunes. It was high
time to make a getaway. If she could only think of a
clever way to do it!

CHAPTER TWO

SHY MAIDENS AND CABALLEROS

David lay back and let the water rush past him. Funny. That sounded like the story of his life. Lately he felt as though time was a river and he couldn’t seem to launch a boat in it.
 

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