“You’re a very beautiful woman, Tomasita. Your skin is as soft as a wild rose petal.” He smiled and added, “And, right now, just as pink.” He lowered his hand. “Am I embarrassing you?”
She stared back at him, seeing eyes that were warm and alive with innuendo. Frightened by his intent gaze, not quite understanding what she saw in his eyes, she lowered her head again. “Yes. No. I do not know. Holy Mary . . .”
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
ranchero
to be your husband?”
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
you
want, Tomasita. That’s all. Just tell me what you want from the man you marry.”
“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
you
want, Tomasita?”
“Aiii! Señor! What are you doing? Take your hands off her.
Pobrecita! Mi niña!
”
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, señor,” 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 Doña Lucia.”
“But that man—”
“Did nothing!”
“I saw him—”
“You saw him do what? Kiss me? And where will you tell Doña Lucia you were when this man kissed me? How will you explain that you were acting as my duenna yet could not forestall the señor?”
Tomasita saw the exact moment when it dawned on Josefa that if she told Don Cruz and Doña 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.
“
Sí,
we shall take this back to the hacienda with us. Your papa will be home soon, and he will surely want to see it.”
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.
S
LOAN 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.”
A look of such great longing, mixed with pain, came across Rip’s face that Sloan nearly got up to go to him. In another instant, the strained look was gone and he was in control again.
“There’s nothing I can do to help her now,” he said with a sigh of regret. “And Luke isn’t going to let me forget it.”
“But there’s something you can do to help him. Is that it?” Sloan said. “Is that why you want to give him Three Oaks?”
“Something like that,” Rip admitted. “It isn’t that I wouldn’t have wanted to help him anyway. After all, he is my son.”
“How do you know he’s actually your son?”
To her surprise Rip grinned. “Charity made sure he knew about my birthmark. Luke has the same one.”
“I never knew—”
“It isn’t in a place that shows.”
Sloan had never thought of her father as an ordinary person with ordinary flaws. He had always been someone larger than life, the bedrock of Three Oaks, the stubborn, opinionated head of the household.
Now she realized he was only a man, one who had made a terrible mistake once upon a time. It was a mistake he clearly regretted and one that would likely haunt him the rest of his life.
It was also a mistake for which she was being forced to pay the consequences.
Sloan scooted off the bed and walked the few steps necessary to lay a hand on Rip’s shoulder, offering the comfort she hadn’t dared to offer before.
Rip’s head came up with a jerk, and his gray eyes turned dark as he perused her face. “I assume you’ve come back to be my overseer.”
“I’ve come back to claim what’s mine.”
Rip chuffed out a breath of air. “What about Cruz?”
“What about him?”
“The man seemed pretty certain he wanted you for his wife. Do you mean to tell me he’s changed his mind?”
“Not exactly.”
Rip cocked a brow and waited.
“No, dammit, he hasn’t changed his mind,” Sloan admitted in a rush.
“Seems to me your marrying Cruz would be the perfect answer to all our problems,” Rip said. “You would be mistress of Dolorosa, and I could leave Three Oaks to Luke. Everything would be even all around.”
“Except I don’t want Dolorosa. I want Three Oaks,” Sloan retorted.
“We don’t always get everything we want.”
A silence descended between them as they both digested the bitter truth of Rip’s statement.
“Why are you so determined to disinherit me?” Sloan asked.
“Maybe I’m just trying to do what’s best for you,” Rip said, his brow furrowed.
“I’ll be the judge of what’s best for me.”
Rip took a good look at his eldest daughter, who defied him with shoulders back, chin up, and arms crossed aggressively under her breasts. He had trained her well, molded her in his image. Perhaps he had done too good a job. Perhaps she was going to plow bullheadedly forward in the wrong direction just to get her own way.
He had learned a few hard lessons over the past few years. The hardest of them was that he wasn’t as smart as he had thought he was. He had dreamed of having three sons, of creating an empire that would begin with Three Oaks.
Now he realized that he hadn’t counted on the vast opportunities Texas would offer his children. He hadn’t counted on their wanting to take off, like eaglets leaving their aerie, in search of their own domain.
He hadn’t counted on the choices being taken out of his hands.
Rip had watched his two younger daughters leave Three Oaks and start fulfilling new lives with their husbands. He couldn’t help wanting that same kind of happiness for Sloan, the child with whom he had shared so much of the burden of Three Oaks, the one on whom he had been hardest because she must be best.
She had always been independent, and determined to do everything her own way. Now she was going to throw away the chance of a life with Cruz in order to possess Three Oaks.
For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do. So he said, “I guess I’ll let you and Luke fight it out.”
Sloan could hardly believe her ears. “You have no objection to my claiming Three Oaks?”
“You’ll have to settle the matter with Luke. He makes the decisions about Three Oaks now.” Rip rose from the chair and walked across the room, not stopping until he reached the door. “If you want to wait, Luke said he would be back along about sundown. It’s good to see you, Sloan.”
It was all the welcome she was going to get, Sloan knew, and yet it was more of a statement of caring than he had ever made in the past. Still, her sense of betrayal ran deep. Luke hated Rip; she loved her father; yet Rip had given control of Three Oaks to his son.
Damn right she planned to wait and talk to Luke!
She was sitting in Rip’s office when she heard footsteps in the central hallway. She waited for Luke to come in, belatedly realizing that she had heard the steps of two men.
“Howdy, Sloan,” Luke said.
She turned her head to greet him and was stunned by the sight of Cruz standing next to him. “What are you doing here?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing. I came home and found you gone. I thought we had an understanding.”