“I heard Ben say—” she began raggedly, and he held up a warning hand to stop her.
So he hadn’t planned to kill her. That was nice to know, but what she really needed to hear was that he had married her because he loved her, not because it was the only way he could get the ranch. Her throat hurt with the strain of holding back the words, but she wouldn’t beg. “Yes, I understand,” she finally said. “You planned this from the beginning?” She swept her hand in a gesture that meant everything: the ranch, McLain … herself… everything he had done, even making love to her the night before. Had he thought that she would go more docilely to the wedding if he had already taken her to bed? If so, he had perhaps been right. She didn’t want to believe that his passion had been calculated, but she couldn’t deny that she felt irrevocably bound to him.
“Pretty much.” He saw no reason not to tell her. “I was thirteen and Ben was eleven when McLain killed our parents and took the ranch. He thought he’d killed us, but we hid, and somehow lived. Ben was shot up worse than I was, and I thought he was going to die, too. We planned this for twenty years, working, saving money, practicing for hours and days and years with guns so we’d be good enough to take it back. Nothing was going to stand in our way.”
“And nothing did.” She added softly, “I do understand. The ranch is more important to you than anything else.”
She waited, hoping he would deny it, that he would kiss her in that quick, fierce way of his and tell her that she was more important to him than any ranch. But he didn’t, and she closed her eyes. It was a moment before she trusted her voice enough to speak again. “What would you have done if I hadn’t agreed to marry you?”
He shrugged. “It didn’t happen. No need to worry about it.”
A cold wave swept over her, making her shiver. He misinterpreted the cause and pulled her closer, stroking his hand up her side.
“Cold?”
“No.” Not on the outside. Inside, she felt frostbitten, but the words she needed still remained unsaid. “I’ll get you warm.”
She heard the heat in his deep voice and her heart immediately began beating faster. Her body, it seemed, had already learned to anticipate the pleasure of his possession. She tilted her head back against his shoulder and gave him a pleading look.
“Jake .. .”
He didn’t answer. He caught her thigh and pulled her leg over his hips, then angled inward. This time he entered easily, but her breath still caught in her lungs at the shock of penetration. The muscles in her entire lower body tightened and clamped down in eager anticipation, holding him, shaping themselves around him. She had no power to do anything else but cling to him.
Later, content, he lay on his stomach and went to sleep. Victoria stared up at the ceiling, the ashes of her very personal defeat bitter in her mouth.
The next day Luis entered the barn and caught sight of a bit of cloth as someone darted into an empty stall. He paused, waiting until his eyesight had completely adjusted to the relative dimness of the barn. Whoever it was had been near the stallion, Rubio, who was a fine-looking horse but also one of the meanest ones Luis had ever seen. Jake had big plans for that horse; he wouldn’t take it kindly if anyone was foolin’ with it.
Luis bent down and stuck a length of straw into each of his spurs to keep them from jingling. He silently pulled iron and eased down the center of the barn, cat-light on the balls of his feet.
He heard a sound, only the slightest of rustles, and moved toward it. His thumb eased the hammer back. He looked between the slats of the gate and stopped, puzzled. What was that patch of material? It looked like a skirt.
With a sigh he returned pistol to holster and walked forward to prop his arms on the top of the gate.
“Miss Waverly,” he said politely. “Do you need help with something?”
The girl had been holding herself painfully still; he could see it in the taut lines of her body. Some game she was playing? But she jumped when he spoke, and the face she turned toward him was stark with fear.
“No,” she said, scrambling to her feet. Bits of hay clung to her skirt. She stood in the middle of the stall, and the fear didn’t leave her face. She was like a cornered fawn poised for flight.
Luis, though only twenty-two, had been earning his way with his gun for a long time. He was as lethal as a diamondback rattler, as too many men had found out to their cost. He couldn’t remember, ever, any softness or love in his life, but in his early childhood there must have been a loving mother, one who had cradled her infant to her breast and crooned sweet songs to him, because Luis loved women. He loved the way they looked, smelled, tasted, walked, sounded, felt. Young or old, whore or spinster, slim or plump, from giggly schoolgirls to bawdy saloon girls to starchy matrons, he reserved for them, one and all, his sweetest smile and most liquid voice. He was used to all of them responding to him, even if it was only an involuntary softening of the eyes.
So why was this incredibly beautiful young girl staring at him in terror?
It piqued him. It hurt his ego. It softened his heart, because he didn’t want her to be frightened of anyone or anything. Women, to Luis, were put on earth to be enjoyed and cherished. He wanted to put his arms around the girl and swear to her that everything would be all right, that he, Luis, would protect her with his life.
Instead he smiled, exerting his considerable charm, and held himself very still. “Were you looking at the horse, chica? He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”
Her eyes were dark blue, like the deep depths of the ocean. Luis had been to California and had seen that wonderful color. His entire body tingled in reaction to her beauty. But still she stared blankly at him, not responding to the warm reassurance in his voice and smile.
Luis moved back a step, giving her more room. “My name is Luis. Luis Fronteras.” He had no idea what his real last name was, but had chosen, when he was still a child, the name of the village where he lived in the streets.
Her eyes flickered a little.
“It was very brave of you to try to escape across such land,” he continued soothingly. “Three women alone, and at night! I admired you very much. I wished to tell you that you were safe now, that we wanted only to protect you, not harm you.”
“I wasn’t brave,” Celia finally said in a thin little voice. “I was terrified. Victoria is the brave one.”
Ah, the older sister, Jake’s new wife. She was indeed formidable, with her haughty chin and cool blue eyes.
“Yes, she is very brave,” he said with real admiration. “Where were you going?”
“We wanted to go south toward Santa Fe, but we knew riders were coming in from the south so we couldn’t. Victoria said that there are Indians to the east, so we went west and were going to turn south in the morning, when we were well away from the ranch.”
A plan, Luis thought, that could well have worked if they had been more used to the land. He nodded his head and reached out to open the stall door, sweeping it wide and standing back to give her plenty of room. “And the other pretty lady, the one with the beautiful brown eyes—she is your cousin?”
He knew well enough she was, but he wanted to keep her talking.
Celia nodded, taking a couple of steps toward the open gate but halting before she got too close to him. “Emma. She came to live with us in Augusta several years ago, during the war. Uncle Rufus and Aunt Helen had died, and Emma’s fiancé was killed in the war, and she had nowhere to go. Emma is brave, too.”
“All three of you are very brave.”
She shook her head. “I’m not brave at all. I was so scared and all I wanted to do was hide. Victoria and Emma said we must leave, so that Garnet and the Major couldn’t… couldn’t hurt me.”
The blind look was back in her eyes and with a spurt of anger Luis understood. It was inevitable, really. She was so beautiful, how could any man look at her and not want her? Like everyone else in the territory, Luis had known McLain and Garnet by reputation, and he could guess what they must ha
ve put this beautiful child through.
Luis left his post by the gate, carefully walking off and showing her that he didn’t intend to corner her. He paused in front of Rubio’s stall, and the big stallion’s ears went back as he watched the man. Luis was too smart to lean on the gate within reach of the stallion’s teeth and hooves, but he couldn’t help admiring the animal. “You magnificent bastard,” he crooned in liquid Spanish, “you’re not good for anything but the mares, eh? You’re too mean to ride, but what a life you have! Nothing to do but eating, sleeping, and romancing the ladies.”
Celia crept out of the empty stall and stood watching him, still half-poised for flight. Luis gave her a flashing smile. “I have never before seen a horse as beautiful as this one.”
She nodded and at last her own smile broke out. Luis caught his breath, struck dumb. She looked like an angel.
“He’s wonderful,” she breathed. “I bring him things to eat, and now he lets me pat him on the neck.”
He was alarmed that she would get so close to the animal, but he didn’t scold her. Any hint of anger would send her flying.
“My name is Celia,” she offered.
He already knew that, but he nodded as if she had given him a gift.
“I have a mare, Gypsy. Jake helped me choose her. She’s really smart, but when ya’ll were chasing us, Victoria made me swap horses with her because her horse is faster than mine and she wanted Emma and me to get away.”
“Yes, a very brave lady, your sister.”
“I’m glad that she married Jake. I like him, but he really should have told us his real name.”
“He had his reasons, chica.”
“I know.” She sighed, and the bright light faded out of her face. “The Major was a horrible man. He killed their mother and father, did you know?”
“Yes, I know.”
“Before I knew Jake was really Jake Sarratt, I used to pray that the Sarratts would come back and kill the Major. I know it’s a sin,” she whispered, “but I hated him.”
“It’s not a sin to hate evil.”
“I hope not. I have to go,” she said, suddenly taking fright again. With a swish of skirts she ran away. Luis watched her disappear out the front of the barn, her slender figure briefly silhouetted against the bright opening before she was gone from view. She was sweet and fey, and he wanted her.
The days after Victoria’s wedding passed slowly. They had lived on edge for so long that the abrupt calm made them all feel as if the bright summer days dawdled along. Time didn’t tick, it oozed. They were all relieved.
Celia began to giggle again, and the musical sound made them all smile. She dogged Jake’s boot heels whenever he left the house, and although she was still shy with Ben, someone began playing practical jokes on him. Victoria strongly suspected Celia, because her sister had always had a penchant for that type of thing, but Ben knew it was Celia. He had seen her sneaking out of his room once, but he continued to pretend ignorance. She got such joy of it that he often exaggerated his mishaps, just to watch her try to act innocent while she was struggling with laughter.
But with Emma, Ben was held at a distance by a careful silence. She pretended he didn’t exist, and he allowed her to do so. It wasn’t easy, since they lived in the same house, but Emma’s self-possession was such that it was possible. He wasn’t sure how, but she could speak to him and still treat him as if he weren’t there. It made him angry but he accepted it, because he knew the reason for it.
The days were busy. Despite their expectations of the worst, there hadn’t been any trouble with the men who had been out with the herds. Some left with quick looks over their shoulders, some stayed. Jake and his men worked long, hard hours getting an accurate count of the herd and altering the brands on cattle and horses alike. Jake and Ben were often out of the house from dawn until long after dark. They would return tired and caked with grime, smelling of horses and sweat. To make it easier for them to wash they rigged up a contraption behind the bunkhouse: a small enclosure with two buckets of water balanced overhead and a rope tied to each bucket. Most of the men got in the habit of stripping, tipping some of the water over their heads, then soaping up and using the remainder of the water to rinse. Whoever used the water had to refill the buckets. At the end of each long hot day, there was always a line waiting to use the contraption, though a lot of the men still used the river if they were inclined to bathe. For some of them, that wasn’t very often.
For Victoria, the slow summer days were filled with a deep sense of unreality. During the day she did what wives had always done; she mended, she made certain the meals were on time, and took care of the myriad and endless details of making a home. That was the way she had always expected her life to go, and the routine was as familiar to her as her own face.
At night, however, things changed. When Jake came up the stairs each night and entered her bedroom—their bedroom now—and closed the door behind him, nothing was as she had ever imagined her life to be. She spent the hours in a sensual daze, locked in his arms. She lost her privacy to dress or undress alone and had to accustom herself to his tall body in her bed. He touched her however and whenever he liked, and he liked it often. There wasn’t an inch of her skin left unexplored. She drowned in the sensuality of the nights, her mind overwhelmed by the demands of the flesh, both his and her own. Sometimes when she awoke in the bright morning sunlight she was appalled at the carnal excesses of the night before and would swear that she would never let herself behave so mindlessly again. But her intentions never lasted past his first kiss, the first touch of his hard body against hers.
The more influence he exerted over her at night, the harder she tried to shore up her defenses during the day. If he had ever said those simple words, I love you, she would have abandoned herself totally to him, but the words he whispered to her were of lust. So every morning she tried desperately to isolate her heart from him, to wall up part of herself where he couldn’t find her. It was pure self-defense, the need to keep a kernel of her being whole and untouched, a foundation on which she could rely if the rest of her life fell apart.
“A kitten!”
Celia’s face was bright with joy as she scooped the tiny animal out of Luis’s lean brown hands. She cuddled the ball of fluff to her cheek and the kitten gave a squeaky meow. “Oh, Luis, where did you find it?”
“In the tack room. Its mother must have died.”
“Will it be all right?” she asked anxiously. “Is it old enough to eat on its own?”
He shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Together they trooped up to the house, where Celia begged Lola for a saucer of warm milk, which she placed on the sun-warmed flagstones of the courtyard. The kitten sniffed daintily before lowering its pink nose and beginning to lap.
Celia smiled. “It’s old enough.”
“It seems so.” Luis watched her crouched there on the flagstones, her face intent on the kitten. She was so full of delight he wanted to snatch her to her feet and kiss her.
She looked up at him. “Where are you going to keep it? What have you named it?”
“I’m not keeping it anywhere. I brought it to you.”
“You mean it’s mine?” she breathed.
“If you want it.”
“Of course I want it! I’ve never had a pet before.” She lightly rubbed the kitten behind the ears and it arched up to her hand, but didn’t lift its head from the milk.
“Lola said you’d found a kitten,” Victoria said, stepping out into the courtyard. To Luis’s surprise, she crouched down in a position identical to Celia’s and stroked the kitten. “It’s so pretty and soft.”
“Luis found it. He said I can have it.”
Victoria smiled. “What will you name it?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never had a kitten before. What are some cat names?”
“Tiger?” Victoria suggested, then looked doubtfully at the kitten. She and Celia laughed together.
“
What would you name it, Luis?” Celia asked.
He shrugged and sank down on his haunches to join the women. “I’ve never had a pet, either.”
Victoria smiled at the slim young man, wondering if he felt a kinship with the little animal since he was so catlike himself. She liked him, even though she could look at him and see danger clinging to his broad shoulders like a cloak. But Luis’s smile was always warm and gentle; he was never coarse around Celia, and he seemed to have appointed himself sort of a bodyguard for the girl. Victoria was glad and hoped Celia might lose some of her fearfulness around men. In general the men around her now teased her and watched over her, but never threatened her or gave her sidelong glances.
“First, is it a male or a female?” Victoria asked practically.
Again Luis shrugged, which piqued Celia’s interest. “How do you tell?”
“You pick it up and look,” Luis replied.
She did, holding the kitten on its back. The three of them solemnly studied its belly.
After a moment Celia said, “What are we looking at?”
“I don’t know,” Victoria admitted, laughter brimming in her eyes.
“Luis?”
He put his hand over his mouth and pretended to be considering the matter, but at last he was forced to admit, “It looks like a furry belly.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” Victoria said.
Celia began to giggle, then they were all laughing. At the sound of booted steps, they looked up. Celia lifted the kitten. “Luis has given me a kitten,” she explained to Jake. “We want to name it, but we can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl.”
Jake’s face relaxed into a grin, and Victoria felt her heart turn over. He leaned down and took the kitten, his big, lean hand gentle as he held it up and looked. “It’s a torn,” he said, and put it down in Celia’s lap.