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“I love it. Carmen is a beautiful name, it suits you.”
“Thank you,” Isabella smiled, thrilled to be lying in bed speaking to Benedict Redford. This was not something she’d ever done before. “You are a Texas cowboy?”
Bull turned on his side, propped up on the pillow and tried to imagine how Carmen looked as she talked to him. “Yea, I guess you could say that. I’m a broken down ex-rodeo cowboy with a handkerchief size ranch. Not much to brag about. My prime business is providing stock for rodeos now. I run a few cows and horses, mostly because I enjoy having them around.”
“You used to ride rodeo? I am so impressed. Did you bust broncs? Is that how you say that?” She rolled on her tummy and bent her legs, lifting her feet in the air and crossing them. Isabella hadn’t had this much fun in a long time.
“No, I rode bulls.”
“Oh, we have so much in common!” Isabella purred.
Her comment brought home what he’d seen today at the bullfight. He’d been blown away by her talent, but couldn’t deny that his heart had been in his throat the whole time. “When you belong to me, you won’t be putting your pretty little self in danger like that. I could barely sit still in the stands when that animal would come charging across the ring toward you.”
When she belonged to him? Her heart raced with excitement. Isabella laid her face on the pillow with a wistful sigh. “You wanted to come to my rescue, cowboy?”
“I wanted to step in front of you and hide you behind my back, yeah. And why would that guy try to attack you the way he did? Even if it was a paint gun, he had malice in his eyes. What was that all about? Why don’t you have a bodyguard or something?”
His questions didn’t anger Isabella, they warmed her heart. “Many in the bullfighting world dislike what I’m doing. Bullfighting is an ancient symbol of my people, it’s more than a sport, it’s a celebration – a ritual, almost a sacred act.”
“If you feel that way, why do you do it? Not that I approve of you putting yourself in danger in any manner, but there are lady bullfighters who face the bulls with a sword and lances, why don’t you do the same?”
Isabella paused, not sure what to say. Almost, she told him about her father. Almost, she disclosed her true identity. But that was something she’d rather do face to face, not over the phone. “I understand my culture and how they feel about bullfighting, I didn’t say I agreed with it, personally. I abhor the idea of rewarding a bull’s bravery with his death. My quest is to show that the battle of wills can be fought without the shedding of blood.”
“Unless the blood is yours, Carmen. Do you know how close you came to being gored today?” His voice grew harsh with emotion. “I died a thousand times witnessing you flirt with death. No, you may have withheld your name from me – but you didn’t withhold your body. I know the taste of your kiss. I’ve held you in my arms and made love to you. You aren’t a damn stranger to me!”
Isabella wiped a tear from her cheek. “Benedict Redford, you make my heart pound in my chest. I have never met a man like you before.”
“And I have never met a woman like you, Carmen. Tell me where you are. Let me come to you. Now!”
A powerful wave of longing swept over Isabella. “I wish I could, I would welcome you with open arms. My…my situation is…complicated.”
“You said that before. Are you married, Carmen? Do you have a man? Is that what you’re telling me?” Bull was almost paralyzed by jealousy.
“No. No. There is no one else. My situation is tenuous in other ways.” She was about to cry. “I have to go, but I will think about the bodyguards. For you.”
Bull clutched the phone. “I don’t want you to go. When can I talk to you? Will you call again?”
“I will try to call you again, Si. Gracias for caring about me, Benedict Redford. Please sleep well.” Isabella pressed the END button before she could change her mind.
On the other end of the phone call, Bull clutched his phone so tightly he heard the case crack. “Fuck!” He threw it against the wall. Flinging himself to his back on the bed, Bull stared up at the ceiling. His arms had never felt so empty.
Bright and early the next morning, Bull made his way to Terra Dura for the meeting with Don Luis Cortez. When he first agreed to the visit, he’d been excited at the prospect of adding new bloodlines to his herd. Forging a deal with Cortez would be a major coup. While he was still pleased by the opportunity, his attention was now split. Thoughts of Carmen, his La Diosa, were paramount in his mind.
Where was she? What was she doing? When would he hear from her again?
His brain was so distracted by everything that had transpired, he ran off the road, scattering a flock of chickens. “Dammit!” he exclaimed, pulling the rental car back on the narrow pavement. The vehicle was too small for his large form, but he hadn’t had much choice in the matter. Pressing his Stetson down harder on his head, Bull struggled to pay more attention to the passing countryside. He didn’t want to miss the turnoff to the ranch.
When he saw the sign for Terra Dura, he let out a breath of relief. He was cutting it close. As Bull drew nearer, he realized this wasn’t a mere ranch, this was a damn empire! As far as the eye could see, there were fences and cross fences, immaculate fields and lush pastures. The old scripture, ‘the cattle of a thousand hills’, seemed to have been written to describe Terra Dura. Oddly, he noticed a wrought iron gate framing the main entrance, which depicted the familiar figure of a matador and a fighting bull. The obsession with the sport in Mexico was more widespread than he’d known. He knew he sure was obsessed with one lady bullfighter. Patting his pocket, Bull made sure he had his slightly cracked phone close at hand. If Carmen called, he wanted to make sure he answered.
After traveling along the winding drive, Bull’s mouth opened in amazement at the palatial hacienda. Bright white stucco contrasted with rust-red clay shingles. The large home was a study in arches and angles, the wide front yard lush with green grass and adorned with sparkling fountains. “Damn, Cortez is a fuckin’ rich man.” Suddenly, Bull felt a little too country to mix with such an individual. He’d no sooner brought the small car to a halt than a man in western clothing came to meet him. “Bienvenido, Senor.”
“Gracias,” Bull assumed he was being welcomed. “I’m here to see Senor Cortez.” He spoke the words slowly, knowing as he did how foolish it must seem. Speaking English slowly to someone who didn’t understand it, didn’t really help.
“Very good. Allow me. If you’ll step inside, I’ll inform Senor Cortez, and also take care of your car, Sir.”
The man’s mastery of two languages shamed Bull. “Thank you,” he muttered in English, halting his butchery of the Spanish language.
Once inside the grand home, he let his eyes wander freely, taking in the marble floors, the fine leather furniture and the dark wood. There was a magnificent inner courtyard paved with terracotta tile, which featured a beautiful jewel of a pool and full-size trees that looked as if they’d been there for years. This place was much grander than the hotel where he was staying. Hell, this place was bigger and fancier than even the McCoy’s home at Tebow Ranch. Bull hadn’t frequented very many fancy places in his time.
