Luke’s gentle laugh brought her blue eyes up to meet his golden hazel ones. There was something in his eyes, something that called to her, asking her to trust him.
“I am not used to a gentleman speaking his mind so honestly,” she admitted with a tremulous smile. “I thank you for the compliment.”
“No thanks are necessary. Unless you’d like to thank me by going for a walk along the river with me this Saturday.”
“Oh, but I could not!”
“Why not?” he asked, a lazy grin on his face. “I’m sure we’d have a good time.”
Tomasita felt her heart beating nearly out of her skin. “I mean, maybe I could, but I cannot accept such an invitation.”
“Why not?” he persisted.
“Don Cruz would never allow it.” She saw that Luke was ready to continue his persuasion, so she explained, “I have only my good name to offer a husband. If I met you at the river…”
Tomasita’s blush, which had almost receded, rose again when her tongue tied at the thought of the discussion they were having.
Luke bit his tongue. He could not say that if she joined him, she would leave the river no different than she had come. It was more than likely he would take at least a kiss… and maybe more.
He wanted her-in a way he had never wanted another woman. There was something about her that shook him up inside. It might have been her innocence.
In all the years Luke Summers had taken what he wanted from women, he had never taken a woman’s virginity. This woman was obviously untouched.
Yet he wanted her. He didn’t understand it. He was a little awed by it. But not enough to leave her be and go about his business.
“So, has Cruz already picked out a rich
Unable to tell Luke of her betrothal to Don Cruz, Tomasita hedged, “I do not know.”
“And don’t care?”
Luke seemed upset, but Tomasita didn’t know why. “Of course I care! But it would not be proper for a woman to choose her own husband. There are things which must be considered.”
“Such as?”
“A man’s family, for one thing.”
As soon as she had spoken, she knew she had said something dreadfully wrong, for Luke’s eyes turned from gold to green and his full lips flattened into a thin line.
“What else?” he demanded.
“His ability to provide a home for his wife and their children.”
“Anything else?”
Tomasita licked her lips nervously before adding, “I… I suppose there are other things. I cannot think of them right now.” She couldn’t think because Luke’s whole body radiated anger.
“What about love? What about a man who would care for you?” Luke asked, his voice soft, his tone taunting.
“Love will come with time. And surely my husband will learn to care for me. I will be obedient-”
Luke’s cynical laugh cut her off. “Obedient. Yes, I’m sure you’d be that. If I ask something of you, Tomasita, will you obey me?”
“It… it would depend on what you asked,” she said, her voice a mere whisper. What had happened to the charming young man who had first greeted her?
Luke leaned toward her until she could feel his breath against her ear. His intense voice was low and husky and sent shivers down her spine. “Tell me what
“I… I…”
“Do you want a man who’ll make fire race in your veins?”
Tomasita held her breath as Luke’s lips caressed her temple, then followed the shell of her ear and trailed down to her neck. She shivered from feelings that were new and breathtakingly exciting. She closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly to offer her neck for further adoration.
His fingers thrust into her silky black hair and captured her head between his hands. “Look at me,” he commanded.
Tomasita raised her eyes to his face and found all the desire a woman could want blazing in his eyes. “What do
“Aiii! Senor! What are you doing? Take your hands off her.
Tomasita whirled to find Josefa barreling toward her on the run, her apron waving like a sheet on laundry day. Tomasita tried to step back from Luke, only belatedly realizing that he had kept his hold on her.
He pulled her into his arms and gave her a quick hard kiss. Then he whispered in her ear, “I’ll meet you on Saturday at dusk, by the river.” He treated her to another of his roguish grins before he lithely mounted his horse and escaped.
“You had better run away, senor,” Josefa shouted after him, her breath coming in outraged spurts. “You do not belong here. When Don Cruz hears what you have done-”
“That is enough, Josefa,” Tomasita said, attempting to calm the heavyset woman, whose face was streaming with sweat from her exertion. “No harm has been done. I see no reason to say anything of this to Don Cruz or Dona Lucia.”
“But that man-”
“Did nothing!”
“I saw him-”
“You saw him do what? Kiss me? And where will you tell Dona Lucia you were when this man kissed me? How will you explain that you were acting as my duenna yet could not forestall the senor?”
Tomasita saw the exact moment when it dawned on Josefa that if she told Don Cruz and Dona Lucia what Luke had done, she would also have to admit that she had let Tomasita out of her sight. She would be as much at fault as Tomasita, and they would likely both be punished.
“I will say nothing of this,” Josefa agreed at last. “But I will be watching you from now on, like the cat watches a mouse, waiting to pounce.”
Her tirade was interrupted by Cisco and Betsy, who had run up to show off a musketball they had found.
Tomasita’s mind was only half on their excited child-talk. The other half was on Luke Summers. His lips had caressed her temple, her ear, her throat. He had even kissed her on the mouth! And she had enjoyed it. Holy Mary, she had wanted more of it! What kind of woman was she to let him take such liberties?
But it had seemed so right at the moment. She touched her lips. They were still wet, and a little swollen. Did she dare try to sneak away to see him on Saturday, knowing that if he tried to kiss her again she would let him do it? How could she even think such a thing when she was betrothed to Don Cruz?
“Tomasita, do you like it?”
She looked down to see Cisco holding up the rusty musketball.
“
And if Cruz did not return before Saturday, what then? Tomasita closed her eyes and prayed to the Blessed Virgin to give her strength to resist the awful temptation that had been laid in her path.
Chapter 12
SLOAN SENSED SOMEONE IN HER BEDROOM WITH her and rolled over in the large feather bed. As she slowly sat up she saw Rip standing at the foot of her bed, silhouetted against the last rays of the sun.
She had only meant to rest for a moment, but she must have fallen asleep. She realized that the bed was no place from which to conduct the arguments she had formulated, but Rip didn’t give her a chance to get up before he began speaking.
“Well, well, well. The prodigal daughter has returned.”
Sloan bristled at his smug tone. She rose from the bed and stood beside it, tucking her gingham shirt into her trousers.
“It’s about time someone showed some common sense around here,” he said.
She leaned down and tugged on a Wellington, then had to search before she found the other boot under the bed. While she was pulling it on she asked, “Where’s Luke?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.”
Sloan’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “That’s a new tune you’re singing. I must say I like the sound of it, though.”
Rip chuckled. “Don’t get your hopes up. He’ll be back.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“That boy hates my guts.” Rip took his time getting to the ladder-back chair in the corner of Sloan’s room. After he had settled himself in it, he leaned his hands on the handle of his cane and said, “Don’t look so surprised. Surely you guessed everything wasn’t honey and roses between me and my son.”
“No. No, I hadn’t… exactly.” Sloan hopped up on the foot of the bed and let her heels dangle over the bedstead. “Why does he hate you?”
“It’s a long story, and not a very pleasant one. I’d as soon not repeat it. Suffice it to say, there are things that happened that I’m not proud of. Things that hurt Luke’s mother.”
“Is there anything you can do to mend fences?”
“No. Luke’s mother Charity died a few years ago.”
