“Will you be able to sleep?”
“I hope so. I chose not to nap this afternoon, so I’d be tired. And I brought along some of the tea I give your father at night. I’ll brew and drink it now. That’ll give it time to work.”
There was an alcove with a coffee maker in the room. Rachel used it to brew a cup of the bitter-tasting tea she made from wild plants. She sat back in the armchair and sipped it thoughtfully. “I was hoping to meet your friend Hayden,” she said. “I had the impression you like him. Is it serious?”
“Not anymore, if it ever was. I was thrilled when he gave me that poor traumatized stallion—until I realized that it was his way of getting off the responsibility hook.”
“But you were able to save the horse, weren’t you?”
“I hope so. I’m still waiting to hear about that.” Cheyenne stretched and yawned. “While you drink your tea, I’ll take a quick shower and get ready for bed. After that, the bathroom will be all yours.”
She gathered up the leggings and oversized tee she wore for sleep, carried them into the bathroom, and closed the door. After stripping down, she turned on the water. At last, the endless day was almost over. Sleep, when it came, would be a welcome release.
“I know you want this, girl. They all do.”
In the red neon light that filtered through the blinds, his devilishly handsome face grinned down at her. One powerful hand pinned her wrists above her head. He had booked them adjoining rooms in the hotel across from the reining competition. Now she knew why.
“Don’t! Please … for love of God …” She twisted and thrashed beneath him, her strong, young legs no match for his muscular weight. His free hand bunched the fabric of her pajama bottoms and ripped them down, leaving her naked below the waist. As he groped between her thighs, she worked a knee loose. With all her strength, she jabbed upward. Her blow missed the target but struck his gut hard enough to trigger a grunt of surprise.
His palm cracked against the side of her head. The flash of pain blurred her vision and made her ears ring like fire alarms. “Try that again and you won’t walk out of here,” he growled.
Beaten and helpless, she lay unresisting as he yanked her legs apart and entered her with the force of a doubled-up fist—shoving, tearing, bruising, again and again … “No …” she pleaded. “Stop, please stop …”
Cheyenne woke with a jerk. She lay in the darkness of the hotel room, her limbs rigid and trembling, her face wet with tears. It was only a nightmare, she told herself, the same nightmare she’d relived more times that she cared to remember—the nightmare that had still left her frozen at the rare times when she’d tried to be intimate with a man.
Her humiliation had continued the next day when she had to ride home with Frank in his Cadillac. By then, she’d understood that if she told anyone what he’d done, he would make trouble for her family. She’d kept the story to herself until a few weeks ago when her mother had forced it out of her—and then again two days ago when she’d mentioned it to Buck.
The thought of Buck brought her fully awake. She sat up, reached for her phone, and checked for text messages. Her heart skipped as she found what she was hoping for.
Fergus arrived at the ranch with Fire Dance and turned him out into the corral with hay and water. Your horse is exhaustedand still disoriented but otherwise looks sound. So rest easy for now, Cheyenne. I’ll keep you posted.
Cheyenne read the text again, warmed by a deep sense of relief. She closed her eyes as the nightmare faded. Buck was comfort. He was safety. And the flicker of time she’d spent in his arms had felt more like home than anyplace she’d ever been. Her need to feel that way again had become a burning hunger.
His message had said nothing about seeing her again. Maybe he’d believed she was with Hayden. Unless she could summon the courage to take matters into her own hands, he could leave tomorrow without even saying goodbye.
Could she do it? What she had in mind wasn’t just reckless, it was insane. What if he only saw her as a silly young girl? What if he wasn’t alone? Or what if, even with Buck, she couldn’t break through the logjam of fear that kept her paralyzed?
Make a fool of herself, and the booby prize would be a lifetime supply of shame.
But what did she have to lose? As things stood, Buck would never come to her. If she wanted him, she would have to risk the pain and offer him all she had to give.
Her mother lay in the opposite bed, snoring under the spell of the tea she’d drunk. Heart pounding, Cheyenne swung her feet to the floor and slipped her key card into the chest pocket of her shirt. After taking a moment to arrange her pillows in the semblance of a sleeping body, she tiptoed to the door, opened it, and slipped through.
As the door closed behind her, she glanced up and down the dimly lit hallway. Buck’s door was only a few steps away. She could still go back. But not when everything she wanted was on the other side of that door.
Summoning her courage, she forced her feet to move, step by step until she was facing the door.
Taking a deep breath, she raised a shaking hand and knocked.
From the other side of the door she heard a faint stirring, a thud like something dropping to the floor, and an audible curse. “Hang on, damn it, I’m coming!”
Heavy footfalls approached the door. The safety chain rattled as the bolt slid back. The door opened a few inches. In the dim light, Cheyenne could see his expression change from annoyance to surprise.
“Cheyenne … what the devil?” His voice was thick and muzzy. “You can’t stand out there. Come on in.”
She stepped inside. The light that fell through the uncovered window revealed that he was bare-chested. One hand clutched the hem of a sheet that had been hastily wrapped around his waist.
“Are you all right, Cheyenne?” he asked. “Is your mother—?”