He couldn't help but recall the last time he'd ridden through this particular canyon. He had gone to warn El Serpiente that the whole town wanted him dead and if he wanted to live he would leave immediately. He also remembered how well that had all turned out. The Serpent was killed by a knife straight through the heart, and it had been by his own hand. Even now, Helm still tried to rationalize that he did it in defense of another's life. If he hadn't stopped the heartless bandit the Queen of Swords would be dead now.
And for all the stress she was causing him lately that wasn't something he even wanted to think about.
"Is it me you love? Or is it the *idea* of me?"
The Queen's question to him the other night ran through his head. Sleep had eluded him following her visit, and it wasn't only the remembrance of the kiss that kept him from slumber's arms. Why was he so taken with her? It was a question he knew he had to answer, for himself as well as for her.
As he rode on he thought back to the first encounter he'd had with the defender of justice. He'd only just come to town and Montoya had insisted he examine some of the workers at the mine. She'd mysteriously appeared like a black angel, prepared to take on a host of Montoya's soldiers. Using one of the workers as a pawn, Captain Grisham had forced her surrender and had her tied to a wooden post like Joan of Arc awaiting the fire. The fire in this case was Colonel Montoya.
He hadn't really known her at the time--did he know her now?--but he knew he couldn't let her be discovered by the colonel. He may not have agreed with the way she was doing things, but he admired her ideals and sense of justice. And so he'd cut the ropes that bound her, freeing her to make her escape. She'd certainly put on a show for Montoya when he arrived.
Chuckling at the memory, his mind returned to the original question. He couldn't deny that the woman was exciting...that she excited him. But was it just the outfit that attracted him? The tight-fitting pants and corset certainly set her apart from the women he was used to seeing in the pueblo. But surely he would be just as drawn to her if she were wearing a long skirt and blouse? Take for example Senorita Alvarado. She was always completely presentable in her traditional garb yet she flustered him nearly as much as the Queen did. So no, it wasn't the outfit.
Was it the mystery that surrounded her? The fact that her true identity was a secret? The black lace mask was very flattering indeed. Maybe it was the way she consistently managed to thwart Montoya. That was always worth a smile or two. The way she wielded a sword? Whip? Bolos?
He shook his head with a sigh. Maybe he'd think better on his feet. He pulled on the horse's reins and then slid down to the ground.
Suddenly his horse balked and his ears laid back flat.
"Easy boy," he soothed the animal as he looked around the walls of the canyon. He cocked his head to one side, listening and then he smirked. He could recognize Chico's hoofbeats by now. He whispered in the horse's ear, "Yup, any minute now..."
He looked up as the Queen rode across the canyon floor and pulled her mount to a halt beside him. She gracefully threw a leg over the horse and dismounted. "Good afternoon, doctor."
Helm inclined his head but didn't say anything.
"What brings you out this way?" she asked, stroking Chico's neck.
"Accident on Don Guillermo's ranch," he replied.
"Is everyone alright?" she turned to him concern in her voice.
"Nothing that won't heal up in a few weeks," he assured her.
Had she come back for an answer? He hoped not, because being this close to her always hindered his thought processes. He was suddenly back under the moonlight behind his office, her arms wrapped around him responding to his kiss with abandon.
"I'm glad to hear that. Don Guillermo is a good man," she said.
"Oh, how do you know him?" Helm asked curious.
She cursed to herself. The Queen didn't know Don Guillermo, but Tessa Alvarado did.
"I've...heard stories...from some of his workers," she quickly explained. Perhaps it was to his credit that she felt so comfortable with him that the faint line between Tessa and the Queen blurred even more when she was with him. But it was dangerous too.
"Yes, well, I should really be getting back to town," he said, half regretting it but knowing that he just couldn't keep this up anymore. Each time they met it was the same thing: a sharp-tongued argument followed by a fleeting moment of passion, and then she'd be gone. Why couldn't she just be a normal young woman?! A woman he could court the way a woman deserved to be courted. Not these bizarre rendezvous by the cover of night or in a deserted canyon!
"Dr. Helm, I think we need to talk," she called after him as he started to lead his horse away.
"We don't talk," he threw over his shoulder. "We argue. Then one of us kisses the other and we both end up alone."
"Dr. Helm!" she repeated. This time she got no answer.
All of a sudden Helm felt a whip wrap itself around his waist. Dropping the reins he spun around and grabbed the whip that led straight to the Queen's hand. He looked up at her in astonishment, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open.
Tessa tried to hide her smile. 'He looks so cute when he's flustered!' she thought. 'Absolutely adorable.'
She gave the whip a little tug and he moved forward, a wry grin on his face now.
"What's next?" he asked. "Tying me to your bedpost?"
She just arched an eyebrow and gave the impression that she was indeed thinking the prospect over.
When he stood just a few inches from her, his smile vanished and he reached up to caress the side of her face. Lightly running his thumb over the lace mask he captured her gaze in his and silently asked the question.
Tessa caught her breath and then shook her head sadly.
His hand dropped to his side defeatedly. Taking the whip's handle from her hand he unwrapped it from around him and handed it back to her.
"You ask if it's you that I love," he said quietly. "How can I know when I don't even know who *you* are?"
Then he turned to the horse and mounted, starting his trek back to the pueblo.
