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  Table of Contents

  Daredevil’s Mistress

  Publication Page

  Dedication

  Author Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also Available

  Also Available

  Thank You

  Daredevil’s Mistress

  Fire and Ice Book One

  by

  Charlene Namdhari

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Daredevil’s Mistress

  COPYRIGHT © 2018 by Charlene Namdhari

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Diana Carlile

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com

  Publishing History

  First Scarlet Rose Edition, 2018

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-2106-6

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-2107-3

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To my husband, Farhaad, and beautiful children, Siraaj and Shazana, thank you for your patience and believing in me. Love you lots.

  Author Acknowledgments

  To The Wild Rose Press, Inc.:

  Thank you for allowing me this opportunity to grow from a stem into a bud. I look forward to the thrill of full bloom and being part of the Roses.

  To my Beta Readers:

  Jelica Baker, Divya Agrawal, and Katie Griffin.

  Thank you for taking the time to read a raw manuscript and provide me with both positive and negative feedback. This gave me the courage to seek publishing.

  You ladies rock.

  To my work colleagues:

  Hazel Ramela and Nkateko Mabaso.

  Thank you ladies for indulging me amid your hectic work schedules and reading my manuscript.

  Really appreciate it.

  And last but definitely not least,

  to my editor, Judi Mobley:

  A special thank you for your patience, guidance, mentorship, and most important, the learning. A book is only as good as the team that puts it together, and I’m certainly glad to have partnered with you. I appreciate every single minute of your time.

  Chapter One

  “She lives alone?” His brow furrowed deeply. “Your visit then is simply out of the question.”

  Here we go again. Samantha Harman rolled her eyes. She was a prisoner in her father’s home, not allowed to go out, and heaven forbid she ask to meet a girlfriend alone. A mere wish to join her friend, Kajal at the Northgate Mall ice rink last week, ended in a similar heated argument. Unmarried girls without a chaperone were taboo. Her cousins’ stories became the unceremonious joke at every family function.

  “Why not?” Samantha said, testing her father’s patience with the simple request. Deborah Bentley, her college roommate, spent hours regaling her with stories of ranch hands, horses, and barbecues which added a little excitement to the prestigious but boring all girls’ college. Ten months ago, they said their goodbyes. Deborah’s letter requesting Samantha to visit her in Arizona, USA arrived as a total surprise.

  “Diane, tell your daughter I won’t tolerate this insolence.” Her father darted her mother a livid glare, rose and ambled to a large bay window. With his hands cupped stiffly behind his back, he stared out.

  “Samantha, I think—”

  “I’m here, Papa. Why don’t you speak to me?” Samantha straightened and interrupted her mother. Her father’s tyrannical behavior suffocated her relentlessly.

  He swung around, his face red with rage made Samantha shrink back. “Young lady, I will not tolerate my daughter speaking to me in this manner.”

  “Why does it always have to be this way?”

  “As long as you live under my roof, you will do as I say, do you understand?”

  Samantha recognized the enmity in his voice. Her father ruled their house like he did his business. With an iron fist and despised being challenged.

  “Shall I move out then? I’m sure it will make you happy.” She didn’t think, just spoke her mind. Not allowing his imperious stance and action deter her without effort.

  “Stop this insolence at once,” he shouted. Capable of calamitous anger, her father was never this harsh. Right now, he appeared flustered by the uncharacteristic intensity of his tone and swiveled away to stare out the window once more.

  Samantha glanced at her mother, elegantly dressed in satin silk, her lustrous red hair pinned neatly in a knot at the back of head, and her green gaze fixed intently on her husband. She sometimes wondered how her parents endured a twenty-six year marriage. They were so different, both in character and behavior; her father cold and ruthless, her mother sweet and charming. Maybe they made up for each other’s weaknesses.

  Her mother stood and walked across to her husband. She placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “Please, Deven, talk to Samantha.”

  “Do we know this girl? What’s her name?” Her father stared at her mother.

  “Deborah visited during the holidays last year. Seems like a wonderful girl, very polite and friendly. It may be good for Samantha to go—”

  Her father’s suppressive behavior amazed her as Samantha caught sight of the contemptuous glare he leveled on her mother which froze her words. The man seriously believed in the age old tradition where men of the house made all the decisions whether right or wrong, while his wife remained at his side dubiously stoned with placating indifference. The mannerism a true reflection he didn’t take kindly being told what others thought he should or shouldn’t do.

  Samantha conceded her life was plenty different from her friends. Her parents survived the boundaries of a mixed race betrothal only because her father came from Indian royalty and her mother from an openly diverse British family. Even though they lived in South Africa, her father ensured a way of life he deemed an equivalent of his royal heritage and expected his family to follow suit. He demanded respect.

  “Papa, please. Deborah lives with her older brother.” Samantha subtly left out the fact Deborah lived with not one but three single brothers. He’d probably throw a hissy fit if he found out.

  “What business is he in, Sam?” he asked a tad calmer.

  Sam, a pet name which sometimes gave her the distinct impression her father desired a son as his first born, yet they never wanted any more children. “They own a ranch.”

  “So they’re mere
ranch hands.” He cast Samantha an arrogant glower. “These people are beneath your status. You were raised like a princess. What in heaven’s name will you find of interest on a ranch?”

  The pompous tone irked her, and she clenched her fists. “Oh, c’mon, Papa, I’m twenty-four years old. Stop treating me like a child. Let me make my own decisions for once,” Samantha retaliated with irritation. “I’m not asking for a marriage proposal. I want a vacation. On my own. Just this once.”

  “I’m well aware it’s not a marriage proposal.” He walked back and sat down on the closest sofa. “The world out there, Sam, is harsh and I only want what’s best for you.” His interrogative gray eyes locked with hers. Tall man, strong built and stern, his countenance more like a gentleman from the sixteenth century with his curled moustache and long sideburns. He rarely dressed in anything else except three-piece suits and polished shoes.

  Samantha dropped into the seat and grasped his hand in a gentle squeeze. “I know, but…but you won’t live forever, you know. When do I experience the realities of life?” she pleaded softly, her anger momentarily forgotten.

  “You’ve never been out of South Africa on your own.”

  “Whose fault is that?” Samantha responded hotly then changed tactics when his brow lifted. One of his many warning signs to tread lightly. She huffed and continued calmly. “I finished my studies, which you allowed then refused to let me work, not even in your office. Apart from dinner parties with old, dreary people, I sit at home bored,” she said. “I wanna see and do something else, and this is the perfect opportunity.” She watched her father, and her shoulders sagged in misery. He looked away and stared into the fire.

  Despite their profound traditions, none of the functions she attended held the appeal of the Indian flair of bright colors and music. It usually consisted of aunts and uncles who met once a week for family dinners. The idea of waking each morning for the next month to a totally different discovery other than the usual routine sounded like a new adventure and she wanted excitement.

  Samantha waited patiently as her father turned his head and studied her for a long intense moment. “I have one condition, then.”

  “What is it?” She caught her mother’s hopeful gaze. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind apprehension grew.

  “Rajesh has asked for your hand in marriage, and on your return, you will accept his proposal?”

  Samantha’s jaw dropped in stunned silence. Seriously? Ok, she expected an arranged marriage but not to Rajesh Rao. Her apparent suitor appeared wealthy but dull and pretentious. With his Armani suits and brushed back hair, she’d never seen him so much as tap a toe to a beat. “What?” she said at last. “But…but Papa—”

  “No buts, Sam. My condition is simple, if you still want to go on this holiday.”

  “Can’t we discuss it on my return?”

  Slowly, he shook his head. “No. Rajesh is exactly what I want in a son-in-law. It’s a good business deal for both families from a personal and professional perspective.”

  Typical! Anything to clinch a business deal. Sell your daughter to the highest bidder too.

  She wanted to fall in love, not be forced into it. In her mind, love was supposed to come naturally. It would be easy to accept any man as her husband in accordance with her father’s dictates. Her desire, however, comprised of a man able to express his love in return. Not a parody of her father, which Rajesh emulated quite well. Love meant going weak at the knees, and Rajesh, purely put, held no excitement. No oomph.

  Samantha wanted to jump into the deep end of a pool with her true love and swim together to safety. Not sink because of their inability to trust each other. “What about what I want?”

  “End of discussion, Sam. My condition stands, if you want to go.” His tone remained matter of fact.

  Exasperation set in as her gaze met her mother’s solemn expression of subservient obedience. Over time, Samantha learned when it came to her father, her mother never argued. Truth be told, her mother would rather suffocate to death than indulge in a battle of wits with her husband.

  Once he made up his mind, no one could argue any further with her father. “I agree.” Samantha exhaled on a slow breath. God, what am I getting myself into? She wanted freedom, right? Sheltered, it became essential for her to experience life. Dancing, dating, and perhaps live on the wild side for a while. What it meant, she wasn’t sure right now. Maybe it started with a simple decision, like a serious wardrobe change for instance. And this was her ticket, so to speak.

  ****

  She couldn’t believe their heated argument was barely three days ago…

  As Samantha eased the jeep along the quiet road toward Trinity; hills rolled by, verdant green and luscious. Along the route, wooden corrals gave way to divided farms where cattle grazed contently in the distance. Horses of different shades and sizes pranced near the length of the fence. Heads held high and manes blowing in the slight wind, their neighs loud as if enticing vigilant mates.

  Samantha traveled a fair bit. Her visits ranged from the beautiful yet humid coastal cities to the dry inland landscapes of South Africa. Nothing, however, prepared her for the pure beauty and open vastness of the land she drove past. Cloudless skies, impressive mountains, beautiful valleys, and open plains designed the perfect collage of a surrealistic countryside.

  Perhaps, being alone created the unusual edge to her surroundings. Her traditional holidays always entailed she accompany her parents when they visited family in South Africa and India, but never alone. Or maybe it rose from the fact she lived in the energetic city of Sandton, beautiful in its entirety yet prolific in diversity, culture, and wealth. Although, surrounded by traffic and the hustle and bustle of everyday commuters to the rich financial district which made up Sandton City itself.

  Samantha’s enthusiasm crested as she downshifted and reduced speed well below the required limit. She wanted to breathe it all in, leisurely. With a sigh of contentment, she inhaled deeply then exhaled in a gradual release. At peace, her body shimmered with the excitement of her freedom. No tea parties or tedious dinner invitations, no pretty dresses with matched high heeled pumps, and no reprimanding father. Free to indulge in how she deemed fit…denims, shirts, and sneakers.

  Chapter Two

  “Oh God…”

  Samantha jerked out of her reflections with a quick slam of the brakes as a huge black stallion appeared from nowhere and blocked her path. The animal reared nervously on its hind legs then plunged down on its forelegs with a resonant thud. Samantha’s heart pounded. She gawked through the windshield in fascination at the magnificent creature prancing in front of her jeep. Nostrils flared, and muscles pulsated under the rider while he soothed the animal.

  Her gaze switched from animal to rider. Two faded denim powerful thighs pressed firm against the animal’s flank. Shirtless, lean muscles rippled in the sunlight, tanned and moist from the sweat of a hard ride. Samantha swallowed as her eyes devoured the outline of every sinew muscle greedily from his defined six packs to the tight biceps, and finally landed on his bronze chest. The sudden prick of her pulse points sent her heartrate into overdrive. Unfamiliar heat cascaded through her body. Her mind whirled, and her breath expelled in short gasps. The sudden heat between her thighs intensified. Her clit throbbed. OMG. If this was his visual effect on her, she could only imagine the result of his touch.

  Everything became a distant blur. The urge to reach out and caress his strong, masculine arms strained as he held the reins tightly, taunting her innocence. Samantha shifted her gaze to his face and stifled a shocked gasp. From beneath the dusty black hat, stone cold, emotionless blue eyes glared at her in contempt. This man wasn’t easily intimidated. He radiated visceral authority. Intensity she never witnessed before. It scared her a little. The height of the jeep, thankfully, gave her some comfort.

  Still riveted, she stared at the tightening of his jaw, almost positive he was grinding his teeth. Mercy, he was sex on a horse. Her tummy muscles constric
ted.

  “Can’t you see where you’re going, boy?” he snarled in a sexy western drawl. His arm pointed at a signpost on the side of the road.

  Not waiting for a reply, the rider nudged the horse. Samantha stared as the animal threw back its head, uttered a loud snort before he galloped off the road, jumped the fence, and trailed dust as it picked up speed. Tipping her hat in a mock salute, she smiled as rider and horse became one until they were nothing more than a mere speck in the distance.

  “Jeepers.” A relieved sigh escaped her lips. Samantha glanced over her shoulder and read the animal crossing signpost with a loud groan. “No.” Lost in thought, she almost ran over the animal and its rider. “Hell, girl, this ain’t your fancy hometown…this be the Wild Wild West.” She attempted a western drawl and uttered a hearty laugh as she failed miserably.

  Easing her foot off the brake, she advanced cautiously after checks in each direction lest any more animals put in an unexpected appearance.

  Twenty minutes to go.

  She glanced at her watch then shivered as wintry blues eyes floated unwittingly into her head. Oh, I’d like to wipe that menacing smirk off his face. Well, if their paths crossed, again. Yeah, right. What were the chances of that happening? He probably wouldn’t be the only cowboy she’ll encounter over the next month. Wait. Thinks I’m a boy, does he? Could she blame the man though?

  Her gaze traveled the length of her figure, scrutinizing the baggy blue denims and denim shirt; one size too big for her petite body. Face devoid of make-up, her long hair, tied into a ponytail, and tucked neatly under a white Stetson, gave her the appearance of a young lad. Her lips curved in a sly smile at the notion of her father’s judgmental scowl, if he should see her now.

  She slid the gear into fifth, increased speed, and hummed softly in tune to the radio.

  “Yes, Papa, your little princess is not behaving like the perfect lady, is she now?” she yelled out aloud and glanced at the rearview mirror. Alas, there wasn’t anyone to hear, except the buzzing bees and squawking birds that hovered in the air above.