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“Ole!” exclaimed the musicians, their hands snapping away from the strings.
“Ole!” Isabella shouted, posing like the statue of a swan, her arms arcing into the sky. Even as the music died down, her fire didn’t extinguish, it grew out of her and filled the room, manifesting itself in the electric applause of the crowd.
Bull sat back in his chair and took a deep breath for the first time, it felt like, in an hour. He eased his jaw in place after he realized his mouth was open. Picking up his tequila, he drained the contents of the shot glass.
God, he loved this music.
As the last note sounded, Isabella knew there was only so much time before the run would begin. As the next dance troupe came forward, she hastily exited out a side gate and took off on foot toward the temporary stock pens where the animals were being held. This was perfect timing, everyone was preoccupied in the revelry. If she didn’t have important business to attend to, Isabella would’ve approached her admirer and introduced herself. Alas, it was not to be. Knowing what was to come and the fate of the bulls at the end of the run, she couldn’t waste time mooning over a cowboy who’d probably already forgotten about her. An odd pang of loss made her heart hurt. Maybe once she was through, she could retrace her steps. But what if she was caught? So far, her antics as an animal rights advocate had stayed under the radar. Keeping La Diosa separate and apart from Isabella Cortez was necessary. If her uncle ever got wind of her activities, he’d lock her up and throw away the key.
Oh well, no time for second thoughts. She could hear the bellowing of the bulls as they sought to find a way out of their prison. They couldn’t know what was in store, but the noise and the occasional boom and flash of fireworks unnerved them. Keeping to the shadows, she made her way down one alley and across another street. She knew the bulls had been deprived of water. Just before they were let loose, they’d be given tubs of alcohol. The whole process was barbaric and strange. After ingesting the wine and tequila, the animals would be turned out and chased down the streets, encouraged to stampede through the narrow byways. Once they came to the river, they’d be driven across. Men armed with swords awaited them on the other side and the bulls would be slaughtered en masse. The idea sickened Isabella and she didn’t intend to let it happen tonight.
...After basking in the heat of the hot siren’s gaze, Bull Redford wasn’t about to let her out of his sight. She’d given him a hard-on when no other woman could. As soon as she left the stage, he followed. What was she doing? He started to call out to her, but he had no desire to frighten her. Bull only hoped she wasn’t off to meet a lover. Keeping an eye on her as she flitted through the night, only the light of the moon and an occasional lamp kept her figure in view. Damn, she was fast. Bull was having a hard time keeping up. He hadn’t had much reason to sprint in the last few years.
What the hell? His vixen in red ran right up to several pens full of big, black bulls. He remembered what the bartender had said about an impending bull run. Was it her job to begin the event? The path the animals were supposed to follow was clearly delineated by rope barriers with flags attached to keep the bulls from escaping down side streets. Just as he anticipated, the beautiful woman opened the gates and began urging the animals out. But instead of coaxing them toward their designated path, she began to herd them in the opposite direction, toward an open area bordered by woods. “Well, I’ll be,” he whispered. She was letting them go.
He rushed ahead to help her, not fully understanding what was going on, but willing to take her side, whatever the outcome. With his heart in his throat, he watched as the massive animals passed so close to her that he was afraid she’d be trampled or grazed by their sharp horns. The nearer he drew, the more entranced he became. She was fierce, standing her ground to keep the big bulls from turning in the most logical pathway.
A shout behind Bull alerted him that someone else was coming.
“¡Párala! ¡Párala! Ella está dejando que los toros escapen!”
“Stop her! Stop her! She is letting the bulls escape!”
Bull was glad at least one of the crowd spoke English or he would’ve just had to wonder what they were saying.
Rushing forward, he waved his arms, urging the last of the stomping, huffing, animals in the direction his beauty wanted them to go. “There!” Grabbing her hand, he pulled her to one side. “Come on, let’s get out of here before they catch us.”
Isabella’s head was swimming. She was panting from exertion and adrenaline. Freeing the bulls was amazing, but not nearly as exhilarating as the cowboy coming to her rescue and the feel of his large hand enveloping her own.
“This way!” She pointed down a narrow alleyway. Behind them, people were rushing in their direction, some carrying lanterns. The voices of their pursuers grew louder. “In here!” Pushing open a wrought iron gate, she hurried inside a small courtyard, guiding the cowboy in with her. As soon as she could, she shoved the gate shut, just about the same time as footsteps went thundering past.
Isabella flung herself into the shadows and turned her ankle on a rock. With a startled gasp, she fell against the broad, hard chest of her handsome champion.
To keep the beauty from falling, Bull grasped her, pulling her body against him and filling his arms with soft, sweet woman.
Isabella gasped. His broad, warm palm completely covered her breast.
In the glow of the moon, she looked down at the large hand cupped over the scarlet material of her bodice. Due to the cut of her dress, she wore no bra. The only barrier between his palm and her nipple was a very thin piece of scarlet silk. Isabella held her breath, waiting for him to free her – to push her aside. But he didn’t. His strong arm curved around her waist, clasping her body tightly to his.
“Who are you?” she asked softly, in perfect, yet stilted English.
“Shhhh, people are right outside the gate,” he whispered back, not moving, still holding her close.
Isabella closed her eyes, willing this provocative dream to continue. A stranger, the living manifestation of her desires, held her in his arms and she never wanted to move. No alarm sounded in her mind, she felt safer than ever before.
When the footsteps on the other side of the wall abated, his hand seemed to move reluctantly – but not before it skimmed over her nipple, leaving a hard, aching peak in its wake.
Isabella moaned, wishing the sensation could continue. To her relief, he didn’t turn her loose, he simply began caressing her bare arms from her shoulders to her wrists and back. Her knees became weak and she sank back more firmly against him.
“What possessed you to do that?” Bull couldn’t help but ask. He wanted to know more about her, but this information seemed paramount. “You could’ve been killed.”
Her skin felt alive where he touched her, a hot tingling pervaded her body – traveling from her arms to her nipples, down her spine, and even to the tips of her toes. “I had to, they were to be killed. Fed alcohol, then chased down the streets, across the river to be slaughtered.”
“Why?” Bull asked, wanting to know the answer, yet needing to know her far more.
“An ancient, stupid, barbaric custom.” Isabella bit back a moan as his fingers caressed her neck. Her breasts ached and the evidence of her arousal was pooling between her thighs.
Another shout out in the street caused Isabella to jump, a small cry erupting from her lips.
