could not bear to watch her suffering.
At long last, she slipped into an uneasy slumber.
Cruz rolled his head on his neck to ease the tension, then turned to Luke and said, “I feel so helpless. Is there nothing we can do?”
“We just have to wait.” Luke put a hand on Cruz’s shoulder and felt the other man flinch. “It isn’t long now until dawn. Remember, the doctor promised that if Sloan made it through the night, she’ll live.”
“She’s in so much pain!” Cruz said, the words wrenched from him.
Luke simply nodded. He had heard Sloan’s feverish murmurs and knew it wasn’t only Sloan’s physical pain that was worrying Cruz.
Cruz thrust both hands through his hair in agitation. “Oh God, she has to live!”
“What do you suppose made her so sick in the first place?” Luke asked, hoping to distract Cruz from his distressing thoughts.
“Maybe the water in her canteen-she filled it up when we stopped to eat. We will probably never know for sure.”
Luke rose from the chair beside Cruz and crossed to the foot of Sloan’s bed. He leaned against the bedstead of the four-poster and crossed his legs at the ankles. “Damn scary to think you could just get sick and die without ever knowing what hit you,” Luke mused. “Makes you think twice about all the things you’ve left undone… like maybe you should tie up all those loose strings before you lose your chance. You got any loose strings out there, Cruz?”
Cruz sighed and leaned forward in the chair beside Sloan’s bed, crossing his arms on top of the mattress. “One in particular.”
“What’s that?”
“You have met Tomasita Hidalgo, I believe.”
Luke was silent for a moment, and when Cruz turned to see why Luke hadn’t answered, he saw the Ranger’s cheeks were flushed. He watched Luke’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed uncomfortably.
“I’ve talked to her some,” Luke admitted at last.
Cruz smiled. “I think perhaps you find her attractive,” he teased gently.
“She’ll make someone a beautiful wife.”
Cruz rested his chin against his hands. “My father had plans that she would become
“Is she right?” Luke asked, an inexplicable tension in his shoulders.
Cruz shook his head. “There is only one woman for me. If I cannot have Sloan, I do not want another. But as for what I have left undone-I must find a husband for Tomasita. I have delayed too long already.”
Luke feigned disinterest, but his voice was rough when he asked, “Do you have anyone particular in mind?”
“Don Ambrosio, for one. He was known to dote on his first wife, and I trust him to be kind to Tomasita. Of course, he is a little older than I would like.”
“How old?”
“Forty-six, I think.”
“He’s old enough to be her father!”
“An older man would be able to teach her the way she should go.”
Luke made a disgusted face. “Who else do you have in mind?”
“Joaquin Carvajal is very wealthy, but he is almost too young, only twenty-two.”
“I’m twenty-three,” Luke said with asperity. “Are you saying I’d be too young a husband for her?”
“Are you asking my permission to court her?”
“And if I were?”
Cruz turned to face Luke, suddenly aware that the Ranger hadn’t asked the question idly. He frowned, unsure what to say. For any number of reasons, Luke Summers was not the sort of man he would have chosen as a husband for Tomasita Hidalgo. He liked Luke and he respected his abilities as a Ranger, but Luke had a rogue’s reputation.
“Do you think you could be satisfied with only one woman?” Cruz asked.
“What the hell kind of question is that?” Luke retorted.
“I would be lying if I said no Spanish gentleman ever had a mistress,” Cruz said. “But still, no Spanish gentlemen has ever had quite so many ladies as your reputation imputes to you. I would like to know whether you would be able to put Tomasita first, before the others.”
“There would be no others!”
Cruz raised a brow at the vehemence of Luke’s reply.
Realizing that he had nearly given himself away, Luke added, “That is, I’d surely devote myself to the woman I picked for my wife.”
“I see,” Cruz said. “And I would ask your plans for taking care of her.”
Luke grimaced. “A Texas Ranger doesn’t make the kind of money that can support a woman like Tomasita.”
“You are Rip Stewart’s son,” Cruz countered, “and heir to Three Oaks if you want it.”
“I don’t want anything from Rip.”
“Not even if it means you could marry Tomasita Hidalgo?”
Luke pursed his lips in thought. Finally, he said, “I’m not looking for a wife, Cruz. Not even one as beautiful as Tomasita Hidalgo.”
Cruz saw the distress in Luke’s eyes and wanted to ask what it was that had soured so young a man on marriage. But in this land, one man did not ask another about his past. He watched as Luke walked around to the other side of the bed and reached out to gently brush a lock of hair from Sloan’s face.
Cruz stared at the Ranger, wondering why a man who obviously loved women seemed so determined to deny himself a woman’s love.
“Guess there’s not much more I can do here,” Luke said, crossing to the door. “I’ll check back early tomorrow morning to see how Sloan’s doing.”
“I will see you then.
Cruz kept a vigil that lasted until dawn. He sponged Sloan’s brow to keep her cool and rearranged the covers when she kicked them off. He recognized the signs that told him the danger was finally past, but he was impatient for her to wake up and tell him she was all right. As the sun came up, he lowered his eyelids to protect his bloodshot eyes from the light. His head fell forward to rest on his arms on the bed and in the next instant he was asleep.
When Sloan awoke, her mouth felt like it was full of cotton. Her muscles ached, and she groaned as she turned from her back to her side. She slowly opened her eyes, trying to orient herself.
She saw a head of tousled black curls and a beard-stubbled face lying on a large sun-browned hand covered in a dusting of black hair. Cruz was sound asleep, his mouth open slightly. She smiled over the secret knowledge that Don Cruz Guerrero snored.
Everything came back to her. The dizziness, the nausea, and Cruz’s return with that odious doctor. She lifted her hand, surprised when it obeyed her command, and laid it gently on the crown of Cruz’s head, tunneling her fingers into his silky hair in what was undeniably a caress.
Why hadn’t she met him first, before Tonio, before everything had happened that made her afraid to love him back?
Her hand trailed down from his hair to his nape, and then around to his bristly jaw. The feel of a man’s jaw in the morning was an intimate thing she had only come to know since living with Cruz. She loved the feel of her smooth cheek against his rough one, and wished she felt well enough to lift her head from the pillow and lie next to him.
Her forefinger tracked the cleft in his chin, and she thought how distinctive it made him look. She marveled at the softness of his lips as she lightly traced them, while the feel of his breath on her fingertips caused a quiver of expectation deep inside her.
Cruz came awake to the languorous touch of his wife’s hands on his face. He held himself still, as though she were a curious kitten and he might frighten her away if he moved.
It was the first time she had made an overture to touch him on her own, and he was both delighted and confused. Surely this must mean she cared for him.
He groaned with pleasure as her fingertips soothed his brow, and she instantly removed her hand.
Cruz slowly lifted his head and stared at Sloan. Her eyes were wide with trepidation. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her she was safe with him, that he would never hurt her. He had said as much before, but she hadn’t believed him. Only time would convince her of the truth.
Unfortunately, he only had four months left before she decided whether to stay with him or go.
“Good morning, Cebellina,” he said in a sleep-raspy voice. “It is good to see you feeling so well.”
So, he was going to ignore the fact she had been touching him, Sloan thought. All right. Fine. “I’m feeling much better. But you’re looking a little the worse for wear,” she replied, unable to keep the smile from her face.
He rubbed his jaw with his hand and then thrust all ten fingers through his hair in a futile attempt to tame it. “I could use a bath and a shave. How about you?”
“I’d like a bath. I think I’ll skip the shave.”
Cruz stared at her dumbfounded. When he saw the mischievous sparkle in her eye, he chuckled and then laughed.
Sloan joined in his laughter, realizing as she did that it was the first time she could remember laughing in a long, long time. She grasped her ribs and said, “Please, I’m too sore for this.”
“I will go see about getting some water for your bath. Are you sure you feel well enough to get up?”
As Sloan shifted in an attempt to sit up, Cruz slipped an arm around her shoulders to help her rise, grabbing the pillows to fluff them up behind her. “Comfortable?”
She felt wonderfully tense. Pampered. Loved. Anything but comfortable. “I’m fine. But I’m thirsty. And starving.”
“I’m hungry, too.”
It was plain to Sloan that it wasn’t food that interested him. His arm was still around her shoulders and she saw the teasing glint in his eye as his finger traced her lower lip. “I was thinking more in terms of coffee, sausage, and eggs,” she murmured.
