The Enchanted Land

The smile vanished from his face. “I can’t say as he likes any women. He seems more to use them than anything. Oh, he’s nice to them, and they sure like him, but he never seems to think anything about any of them after he leaves them.” He paused. “Now me,” and his grin returned, “I’ve been in love so many times.” He laughed and slapped his thigh. “I remember a gal in Louisville once, had black hair and eyes. I was so in love with her that I couldn’t eat for three weeks. Thought I’d die without her.” He seemed to enjoy just thinking about the woman.

  “What happened?” Morgan asked.

  “Oh … she left me for some rich guy, but she’ll never forget me, that much I know.”

  Morgan was quiet awhile.

  “You don’t think Seth’s ever been in love?”

  “Well, I used to work for his daddy, and I’ve been around Seth since he was about nine years old, and as far as I know, he ain’t never been in love. Too bad, too. You miss a lot in life when you don’t fall madly in love at least once a year.”

  Morgan was quiet after that, just sitting, listening to Jake and watching Seth move to the rhythm of his horse.

  The first days were easy. At night they stopped at local inns where a hot meal and warm, clean beds awaited them. Seth always made sure Morgan had her own room, while he and Jake had another.

  Seth and Morgan stayed away from one another as much as possible, speaking only when necessary.

  A few days before they reached Kansas City, Jake began to tell Morgan about someone named Frank. Jake seemed to have a lot of respect for Frank and was glad Frank would be traveling with them.

  “Will anyone else be going with us?”

  It was a minute before she could understand Jake’s answer.

  “Joaquín. What a nice name.”

  Jake muttered something unintelligible.

  Kansas City was much more rustic than Louisville, and Morgan liked it. The people all seemed to be dressed for necessity rather than for fashion.

  “Seth!” A man as big as Seth came up behind him as Seth was tying his horse in front of the hotel. They shook hands vigorously, obviously glad to see one another. “And Jake, you little old toad, you’re still as ugly as ever.” His eyes stopped at Morgan.

  Seth followed his eyes. “This is my wife, Morgan.” Seth’s voice held no warmth.

  Frank reacted immediately to Seth’s voice. He knew something was wrong. Frank held out a tentative hand and helped Morgan from the wagon. “I am pleased to meet you, Mrs. Colter.”

  Morgan smiled, lighting up her face. “Jake has told me a lot about you—everything except your last name.”

  He smiled back at Morgan. “It’s Greyson, but everyone calls me Frank.”

  “If you call me Morgan, it’s a deal.”

  Smiling, they started into the hotel. As they were signing in, Seth said to Morgan, “My shy little wife sometimes loses her shyness. Do you think she saves it just for her husband?”

  Morgan was startled by the hostility in his voice, but before she could say anything, he had turned to talk to the hotel manager.

  Jake had overheard Seth and whispered to Morgan, “He’s jealous,” and then followed Frank up the stairs.

  Seth turned back to Morgan, taking her arm and leading her away from the desk. “They have no adjoining rooms. In fact, they have only one room left in the hotel. I could bunk with Frank and Jake.”

  Morgan’s eyes went to Seth’s. Somehow, she did not want everyone knowing the truth about her relationship with Seth. She would rather people thought theirs was a normal marriage.

  Seth was talking. “Jake already knows. But if you’d rather Frank didn’t, just say so and I’ll arrange something.”

  Morgan lowered her eyes. “I’d rather he didn’t know.” Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she saw relief on Seth’s face.

  Seth escorted her to a small but clean room with one rather narrow bed which took up most of the space.

  Morgan sat on the bed, as there was nowhere else to sit. She watched Seth. He ignored her and began to undress.

  “Seth, what are you doing?”

  “I am planning to wash some of this trail dust off me before dinner.” He turned toward her. “You don’t have to watch if you don’t want to, you know.”

  She moved to the other side of the bed and looked out at the busy street, but she had difficulty concentrating.

  He had hardly spoken to her since the last night at his parents’ house. She tried to picture Trahern House, but saw only Seth’s angry eyes. She heard Nora’s voice saying that Morgan would fall in love with Seth.

  “Morgan?”

  She turned. Seth was standing so close to her. She felt like crying. Unwanted tears gathered in her eyes.

  Seth dropped to his knees beside her. She was such a child. “What’s the matter, little one? If you don’t want me to stay here, I won’t. I’ll find someplace else.”

  His voice was so gentle… She couldn’t be in love with him! She’d known him less than a month. Why was Seth’s image so clear, and the image of Trahern House so blurred?

  The tears started, and she couldn’t stop them. She turned and buried her head in the pillow and began to let out the tears that had been locked inside for so long.

  Seth knelt by the bed. After one puzzled look, he lifted Morgan into his arms and sat on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. He just held her and stroked her hair while she cried. After a while, as the sobs began to subside, Morgan began to hear Seth’s voice.

  “Shh, mi querida, be still. You are safe. No one will harm you. I won’t bother you again. You have nothing to fear.”

  Morgan raised her head to look at him, but he gently forced her head back onto his chest and began to hum a tune. It felt so warm, so sweet to be near him, to be protected. Maybe, if she loved him, he would love her in return one day?

  When Morgan awoke it was daylight, and she was in the bed, fully clothed, with a blanket over her. The last thing she remembered was lying in Seth’s arms hearing him sing to her.

  As she washed her face and combed her hair, she realized she was ravenously hungry.

  Jake knocked on her door, and they started down the stairs together for breakfast. She wanted to know where Seth was, where he had slept, what he was doing.

  At the foot of the stairs was one of the handsomest men Morgan had ever seen. His blue-black hair was perfectly ordered. His clothes were impeccable and in the best of taste. He looked like a picture Morgan had once seen in a magazine of Aunt Lacey’s, a picture of a man for whom a young woman had left her husband and children. Of course, the man in the magazine had turned out to be bad. But this man was smiling up at her and was now extending his hand to her.

  “Ah, this must be the lovely bride.”

  Morgan felt Jake’s arm stiffen under her hand.

  Ignoring Jake, the handsome man took Morgan’s arm as if they had known one another for years.

  “Allow me, Morgan. I may call you that, seeing that we are to be such close companions.”

  “I … uh,” Morgan stammered. The man certainly was charming. Morgan found herself standing a little straighter.

  He laughed slightly, showing perfect white teeth. “Excuse me, I am Antonio Joaquín Santiago de Montoya y García, at your service. You may call me Joaquín.” He took her hand from his arm, just as they were entering the dining room, and held it to his lips, his eyes never once leaving hers.

  Morgan had not yet said a word. The man’s eyes had a hypnotic effect. A loud laugh that she recognized as Frank’s reached her, and she turned toward the sound quickly. Seth looked at her with malice. Why was Seth looking at her like that? She moved to the table and seated herself.

  Frank laughed again. “Well, Joaquín, it looks like you won another of the ladies. But I reckon you better stay away from this one. If you don’t, you’ll be tangling with ol’ Seth here.”

  Seth looked at his empty plate. They had waited for Morgan before ordering. “I don’t put chains on my wif
e.”

  Joaquín was very calm, showing no awareness of the tension at the table. He looked at the four other faces. Seth and Jake were angry, Frank laughing, and Morgan was looking at Seth’s bent head with an expression of puzzlement and helplessness. Joaquín thought, “So that is how it is. For some reason, there is a very willing wife but a not-so-willing husband.”

  A keen observer of people, Joaquín liked to file bits of information away for future reference. Right now, he needed to know more about Seth.

  “Seth, you must tell me where you met such a pretty young woman. Ah, but then you have always had such incredible luck.”

  Seth seemed to regain his composure, but he lost none of his furious look. Morgan did not know whether his anger was directed at her or at Joaquín.

  “Morgan’s father lived in New Mexico for years.” Seth deliberately turned the conversation to a safer topic.

  The three other men all turned interested eyes on Morgan.

  “I haven’t seen my father since I was a baby. I only heard recently that he had died.”

  “It’s too bad he had to go before seeing his lovely daughter again.” Joaquín raised Morgan’s hand to his lips once more. “May I offer my sincere sympathy?”

  Jake, who had been quiet through the whole awkward scene, nearly jumped at Seth. “What’s the matter with you, boy!”

  Seth leaned back against his chair and smiled at Morgan. It was a cold smile, and it did not spread to his eyes. “My little wife is quite capable of saying no to a man when she chooses to.”

  Morgan rose, very slowly and steadily, avoiding Seth’s eyes. “Excuse me. I don’t think I am hungry after all.” She turned and left the room after assuring Joaquín that she needed no escort.

  By the time she reached her room, she was so angry that her entire body was shaking. She sat on the bed. There was a great deal of thinking to do. Nothing was going as she had planned.

  Morgan spent the day in the shops while the men loaded the wagons. She paused before a window, taken by a shiny dress that caught the sunlight. She was drawn inside, hypnotized, her eyes never leaving the dress.

  “May I help you with anything?” a soft voice asked.

  Morgan was startled, embarrassed at having been caught staring. The dress was scarlet, the neckline was cut very low, and there was an inch and a half of very fine burgundy lace across the bodice. What wasn’t entirely revealed by the low neck would be just barely covered by the openwork lace. Above the waist, just under the lace bodice, was a satin ribbon that tied in the back in the Empire style. The thin fabric was tightly fitted below the ribbon until it reached the waist, where it tapered into a long, flowing, bell skirt. The sleeves were puffy and reached only to the middle of the upper arms.

  The woman followed Morgan’s eyes and began to visualize how the blond young woman would look in the elegant red dress. It would suit her perfectly. The woman continued staring at Morgan for another moment. “I am Miss Satterfield. That dress was made for you.”

  Morgan heard the earnestness in her voice. “Yes,” Morgan whispered, “yes.”

  Recovering herself, Miss Satterfield said, “That dress has the strangest history. Last year a young woman came in here and asked for a job as a needlewoman. Of course, I couldn’t hire her without seeing some of her work, and I told her that. She seemed really excited when she left, and came back in a couple of hours with this dress. I could see her needlework was excellent, even if the dress was forty years out of fashion. She said she had copied the style from a book. I never did understand where she got such fabric as that, but I do know she tatted the lace herself.”

  Both women stared at the dress for a moment. “Would you like to try it on?” Her eyes gleamed.

  Morgan, who had never cared much about clothing, remembered wondering, on the night of Cynthia Ferguson’s ball, how she would look in red satin. She was certain the dress would fit.

  “No, I don’t think I’ll try it on. But I would like it wrapped please, very plainly. I’m leaving on a wagon tomorrow, and the package can’t be too large.”

  “All right.”

  As Morgan left the store, she wondered what had caused her to do such a thing. She could never wear the dress. All the way back to the hotel, she told herself she should return the dress at once.

  Morgan had lunch with Frank and Jake. Seth and Joaquín were busy in town. She was glad, as she didn’t want to see either one of them.

  At dinner. Seth avoided her eyes, and she was kept busy trying to avoid Joaquín. He was so charming, and seemed so concerned with her welfare.

  Seth didn’t come to their room that night. She lay awake, gazing out the window at the stars, wondering where he was sleeping.

  Chapter Five

  EVERYONE told Morgan that the first part of the trip was the easiest, but to her it was unbelievably difficult. The days were long and hot, and the nights were too short. The first week she was so tired she could hardly speak. Always, someone made a bed for her under the wagon. She never knew who it was. She was usually too tired to eat, even to wash. She wanted only to lie down and be still, to quiet her body after the jolting of the wagon. But the hard, cold ground gave her no relief.

  By the eighth day she began to become aware of her surroundings. She became used to the long days and the hard bed. For the first time, she sat by the fire and drank a cup of Jake’s coffee.

  “Well, it’s nice to see you back with us.” Frank smiled down at Morgan.

  Morgan returned his smile.

  “It is always nice to have a beautiful woman near, no matter where one is.”

  Joaquín’s flattery made Morgan uneasy. She couldn’t help being pleased, but Seth always seemed to be scowling in the background. As Seth tossed down a load of firewood, he growled, “Well, maybe my wife will be able to help with some of the work around here now rather than letting the men wait on her.”

  Morgan gave him what she hoped was a very sweet smile and said, “Of course, Seth, I’d like very much to help.” She wasn’t going to allow his gruffness to upset her.

  Seth tossed the blankets at her. “Then you make the beds tonight.”

  At her puzzled look, he motioned her to the wagon. He showed her how to make the blankets into a passable bed. This was her place. She knew it was because she had crawled under the wagon between the blankets to sleep for the last several nights. She watched silently as Seth spread another bed under the wagon hardly a foot from her own sleeping place.

  “What—?” she started.

  Seth grinned at her. “That is your husband’s bed. You have been asleep each night when I came to bed, but you’ve slept very close to me every night.” Suddenly his grin faded, and he left her abruptly.

  That night, Morgan was very aware of Seth’s big body spread out so close to her own. She could hear his slow, deep breathing. The sound made her feel safe.

  The days began to form into a pleasant routine. Seth was still cool to Morgan, but his hostility had lessened. Joaquín always seemed to be near Morgan. Whenever she needed anything, there he was.

  They stopped early one night at a place called Council Grove.

  “Can you shoot a rifle, Morgan?” Seth asked her.

  “No.”

  “You’re going to learn. You may need to know how later on.”

  They made their way through the trees to a little clearing. Seth marked a target on the tree, and then stepped back.

  “Now, put the rifle into your shoulder like this,” he demonstrated.

  “I didn’t realize it was so heavy.”

  “Here, I’ll show you.” Seth stood in back of her and his powerful arms encircled her, his hands covering hers.

  His body felt good to her. He had not touched her since they had left Kentucky. Feeling his warmth, she snuggled against him.

  Seth bent his head next to hers to show her how to sight the rifle. Her hair was sweet, her neck was slightly damp from the heat of the day. As he looked from the rifle to her, he felt her move aga
inst him and involuntarily he felt his breath quicken. Her small, round bottom pressed against his groin caused his manhood to stir.

  “Damn you!” He abruptly dropped his arms and stepped away, turning his back to her.

  “Seth?” She had no idea what had made him so angry. She went to him, put her hand on his arm. He jerked away from her touch.

  Angrily, she turned from him. “My mother was right. Men are incomprehensible creatures. One minute I think we can be friends, and the next minute you’re cursing me.” She started back to the camp, each step quicker than the last, each step angrier than the one before.

  Seth, recovering himself, reached her in a few long strides. His eyes and voice were as angry as hers. The hand on her arm hurt her as he swung her around to face him, the sun blazing behind him.

  “Your mother! If your mother had been any kind of mother at all, she wouldn’t have poisoned your mind. If she’d had your interests in mind, she would have taught you about men and women, rather than imprisoning you in that big house like a nun.”

  She jerked her arm from his grasp. “How dare you!” She spat her fury at him. “And your behavior proves she was right in everything she told me about men. I can’t talk to you, I can’t even be near you without you becoming angry with me for no reason.” She started quickly down the path toward the wagons.

  Again Seth was next to her, even more angry. He stood in front of her. Through clenched teeth he said, “You’re damn right I can’t be near you. What do you expect when you wiggle against me?”

  “Wiggle? What are you talking about?” She looked at him with hatred.

  Quickly, his big hands reached out and encircled the back of her head, pulling her lips to his. His kiss was gentle and searching. Morgan had the drowning sensation again. She felt her body go limp and at the same time she could feel every part of her react. She reached out, her hands touching his waist, feeling the firm, hard muscles of his stomach with her thumbs.

  Gently, he drew back from her and looked down at her closed eyes, the delicate blue veins showing through the lids. Her eyelashes were long and thick. His voice was a whisper. “Your mother should have explained about men being very sensitive. That’s why I can’t be near you without being angry at not being able to have you.”