“They might have gotten to the root cellar,” Sloan said, panting with fatigue as she threw adobe bricks behind her.
Cruz remained silent, his lips pressed together in a thin line. He was less willing to be optimistic, but neither did he wish to take away what hope Sloan still had that her son might be alive.
Two hours later, they found Tomasita alive and unhurt. The two women embraced each other, and Sloan fought tears of relief as Tomasita explained she had found refuge under her mahogany bedframe, which had kept the weight of the adobe from crushing her. She was fine.
“You should go rest,” Sloan urged.
“I want to help,” Tomasita said. “Please. Let me do this.”
Sloan didn’t take time to argue, but returned to the unpleasant task at hand. It was Miguel who uncovered Doña Lucia’s hand under a large chunk of adobe. There was no pulse.
Sloan met Cruz’s eyes and shared with him the painful knowledge that his mother was dead. He said nothing, but his face paled and Sloan saw that he had his jaw clamped tightly to prevent the quiver that threatened.
“Get her out of there,” he said at last, his voice hard and flat.
They worked carefully, revealing, at odd moments, a thick strand of her black hair that had worked loose from her bun, the layered ruffles of her skirt and a black shoe.
She was curled protectively around something. It only became apparent what that something was in the last moments as her body was uncovered.
“It’s Cisco,” Sloan said in a disbelieving whisper. “Cruz, it’s Cisco!” she shouted. She fell to her knees beside Cruz, who was gently loosening his mother’s grasp on her grandson.
“Oh, Cruz, please, I want to hold him.”
“Be patient, Cebellina. He may not be—”
“I know he’s alive!” Sloan said fiercely.
At that moment, Cisco whimpered and blinked open his eyes. He rubbed them, trying to clear away the dust. When he saw Sloan and Cruz, he cried, “Papa! Mamá!” and reached out his arms to them.
A crushing embrace followed as they clutched one another. Sloan saw through blurred eyes the tears that scoured Cruz’s cheeks, and heard him swallow over a sob, in the way a man will do.
She closed her eyes and held on, feeling she had been given another chance to be a wife and mother. Another chance to start over with this man and this boy. Another chance for happiness.
She intended to reach out and grab it.
S
LOAN POUNDED TWICE ON THE FRONT DOOR TO
Three Oaks and had lifted her fist to pound again when the door opened.
Luke took one look at her torn and dusty clothes, at the tear-streaked face of the child in her arms, and at the dishabille of the young Spanish woman who stood, eyes downcast, behind her and said, “What the hell happened to you? Where’s Cruz?”
“A tornado hit Dolorosa. Cruz will be here in a minute. He’s taking care of the horses.”
Luke encircled Sloan with one arm and led her into the house. “Are you all right? And Tomasita—” His anxious glance skipped past Sloan to the young woman behind her.
At that moment, Tomasita lifted her eyes to meet Luke’s gaze. Sloan saw that Luke wanted to take Tomasita in his arms, but he made no move toward her. Then the moment was gone.
Sloan closed her eyes and swayed with fatigue. Everything was such a mess. Here she was at Three Oaks, and while it was fortunate that Tomasita now had a chance to work out her differences with Luke, Sloan had to face the fact that circumstances had put Cruz exactly where the Englishman wanted him.
And yet, where else could they have gone?
“What happened?” Luke asked again.
“There’s nothing left of the hacienda but a pile of rubble. Cruz’s mother was killed, and Ana and Josepha.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Luke said.
“We need a place to stay until the house can be rebuilt.” Sloan swallowed and said, “There wasn’t anywhere else to go.”
Luke swore under his breath. “This is your home, Sloan. This is where you should have come.”
At that moment Angelique LeFevre appeared from the parlor and joined Luke. The former chargé’s daughter was a petite, blue-eyed blonde whose golden hair was styled in lovely sausage curls that framed her face and bounced when she moved her head. She wore a long-sleeved lavender day dress of muslin de laine trimmed with purple ribbon.
Angelique laid a proprietary hand on Luke’s arm and said, “Won’t you introduce me to your guests?”
“They’re hardly
guests
, Angel,” Luke said. “You might remember Rip’s eldest daughter Sloan. I believe you met her four years ago, when you first came to Texas with your father.”
“Yes, I believe I did.” Angelique smiled broadly. “How are you? This must be your son. You were expecting a child at the time I met you, as I recall. What an adorable little boy. What’s his name?”
“Cisco.” Sloan stepped away so Angelique’s hand missed connecting with the curls on Cisco’s head.
“The child’s father was . . .” Angelique tapped a slender finger against her chin, thinking.
“Tonio was killed,” Sloan said bluntly. “I married his brother, Cruz.”
“Ohhhh. Really?”
Sloan’s lids shuttered her flashing eyes and her hands fisted in the folds of the blanket covering Cisco. If Angelique LeFevre said one more word about Tonio . . .
“Uh . . . this is Refugia Adela Maria Tomasita Hidalgo,” Luke said, shifting Angelique’s fascinated attention from Sloan. “Tomasita is Señor Guerrero’s ward.”
“How interesting.” Angelique eyed Sloan as she shook hands with Tomasita, and Sloan saw the speculation in the petite woman’s eyes.
“Tomasita is betrothed to Don Ambrosio de Arocha. Their marriage was supposed to have taken place next week,” Sloan said. “But of course there will be a delay now because of the damage caused by the tornado at Dolorosa.”
Sloan saw from the tension in Luke’s body and the way his eyes flew to Tomasita that he was surprised and disconcerted by this news. Thank goodness. She hoped he realized he was going to have to act quickly if he wanted Tomasita for himself.
“You must be devastated by the delay,” Angelique said to Tomasita, eyeing her thickened waist speculatively. “Perhaps Luke and I might come to the wedding?”
Sloan watched Tomasita stiffen at the way Angelique had invited herself to the wedding and also laid claim to Luke’s company.
“I won’t be going to Tomasita’s wedding,” Luke said.
Tomasita flushed, and Sloan wanted to grab Luke by the ears and shake him. Couldn’t he see the young Spanish woman was in love with him?
Cruz arrived at the door to a welcome greeting from Luke. Cruz took Angelique’s hand and said, “I am charmed, señorita. You are every bit as lovely as I had heard you were.”
Where had Cruz heard such a thing? Sloan wondered. She caught Angelique’s eye and flashed the message,
This one’s mine!
Only belatedly did she realize what she was admitting by making such a claim.
“Where’s Rip?” Sloan asked.
“He’s in bed,” Luke replied.
Sloan felt a sudden tension in her shoulders. “It’s barely suppertime. What’s he doing in bed?”
“He hasn’t been feeling well the past couple of days. He picked up a spring cold and can’t seem to shake it. You can check and see if he’s awake. It’s about the time he usually comes downstairs,” Luke said.
Sloan was already halfway up the stairs when she said, “I think I will. I’ll just put Cisco down for a nap first in the crib in Cricket’s old bedroom.”
Cruz watched Sloan go with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hoped Rip wasn’t seriously ill. Rip’s death would force to a head the issue of who was to inherit Three Oaks.
Even if Rip willed the plantation to Luke, there was the distinct possibility Luke might deed it back to Sloan. If she ever got title to Three Oaks, she would have to make a choice.
And Cruz still was not sure she would choose him.
He turned to Luke and asked, “Is it only a cold that has Rip laid up?”
Luke shrugged. “So far as I can tell. I’m damn sorry to hear what happened, Cruz. I’ll send word to Lion’s Dare and Golden Valley. I know Sloan’s family will want to do everything they can to help.”
“Thanks, Luke. I appreciate the offer. When I turned the horses over to the man at the barn, he said Beaufort LeFevre is here.”
“I wrote Sloan a week ago about it. Didn’t she give you the message?”
Cruz frowned. “No. She did not.” He looked up the stairs. He would give Sloan a chance to get settled and then they were going to have a talk.
“Would you like to meet my father?” Angelique asked. “I’ll be glad to take you to see him. He’s staying in the bachelors’ quarters out behind the main house.”
Cruz smiled and extended his arm to Angelique, who placed her palm daintily upon it. “I would appreciate that.” He turned to Luke. “Will you see that Tomasita gets settled?”
“Yes, of course.”
With that assurance, and with another exchange of glances that said volumes and issued admonitions, Cruz turned with Angelique and walked out the front door.
Luke and Tomasita were left alone. Luke gestured to a rocker bench along one wall of the central hallway. “You look tired. Would you like to sit down?”
Tomasita laced her fingers together and gripped them hard in front of her. “I . . . No thank you.”
They stood there awkwardly for another moment before Luke said, “Are you all right? You weren’t hurt by the tornado?”
“No.” She looked up into his hazel eyes, but if he cared at all for her, his feelings were carefully hidden in their golden depths. She took a deep breath and said, “Your child and I are both fine.”
Luke completely lost his composure. Tomasita watched a myriad of emotions pass through his eyes, beginning with elation and ending with anger, before he regained control.
“I won’t ask if it’s mine. I guess there’s little doubt of that, as closely as Cruz has you watched.” His voice hardened as he asked, “Have you told the man you’re planning to marry that you’re carrying my child?”
“I do not plan to marry Don Ambrosio.”
“Sloan said—”
“I am going back to Spain.”
Luke felt as though he’d just been kicked in the gut. “You’re leaving Texas?”
“As soon as I can. I am going back to live in the convent.”
Luke grasped her arms in desperation. “You don’t belong in any damn convent!”
“Where else can I go? No gentleman of class will have me now that I am . . . And I cannot impose on Don Cruz forever.”
Luke frowned. “Does Cruz know about the baby?”
“I have not told him yet. When I do, I am sure he will understand my decision.”
Luke snorted. “Like hell. After he beats the pulp out of me, he’ll have us standing in front of a preacher so fast it’ll make your head spin.”
In a small voice, Tomasita asked, “Would that be so bad?”
Luke couldn’t meet her eyes. “Aw, hell.”
“I guess it would,” she said, sounding defeated. She turned to go back out the front door. “I should not have come here.”
Luke grabbed her arm and spun her back around. “Wait a minute. Where are you going?”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “None of your business!”
“I’m making it my business.”
“Like you made the blond woman—
Angel,
I heard you call her—your business?” she hissed. “Do you think I have no pride? I saw the way you let that woman put her hands on you! If you do not care enough to marry me, at least do not expect me to stay and watch you with your lover.”
“
Angel
and I aren’t lovers,” he ground out, equally furious. “I might have bedded her once upon a time, but that’s all over and—”
Tomasita’s palm whipped around and slapped Luke hard. “I do not want to hear any more! I suppose you will be describing me the same way to your next conquest.”
Tomasita tried to pull herself from Luke’s grasp, but he held on and backed her up against the wall, holding her there with his body.
“What the hell did you do that for? I just got through telling you Angel and I aren’t lovers—”
“Anymore!” Tomasita interrupted. “Just like I am not your lover anymore.” She couldn’t stop the tears that started to spill. “I feel so . . .” She took a deep breath in an attempt to forestall the sob that sought release. “I feel so . . . dirty.”
Tomasita couldn’t look at Luke. She felt his hand on her chin forcing her face up, but she kept her gaze on the floor.
“Look at me, Tomasita.”
“No.”
“Then listen to me, mustang girl.”
“Pretty words will not help now, Luke,” she said, her heart pounding painfully after hearing his endearment. “What is done is done.”
“You don’t have to go back to Spain,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I’ll take care of you.”
She allowed herself to hope. She lifted her gaze and met his eyes, that were now more green than gold. “You will marry me?”
His eyes darkened. “No. I didn’t say that.”
“I cannot accept less than that, Luke. Let me go.”
“Goddammit, you can’t leave me!”
“Why not? What are you offering me that has more honor than returning to the convent?”
“I’m telling you I want you to stay with me. I’m telling you I need you.”
Tomasita heard the agony in his voice. But what he was offering was not enough. “I could not bear the shame.”
Sloan was halfway down the stairs when she saw that Luke had Tomasita backed up against the wall. “What’s going on?”
“Stay out of this, Sloan,” Luke warned.
Sloan continued down the stairs until she was standing across from Luke and Tomasita. “You can’t get what you want with force, Luke.”
“How the hell do you know what I want?”
“If you care for her, Luke, you’ll let her go.”
Luke turned his attention back to Tomasita. “We aren’t done talking about this.” Then he stepped back, and she was free.
“Come with me, Tomasita,” Sloan said. “I’ll get you settled in your room.”
Tomasita didn’t look at Luke as she walked past him and followed Sloan upstairs.
“Are you all right?” Sloan asked as she made Tomasita comfortable in Bay’s old bedroom.
“I am fine. But I have my answer from Luke. I will tell Don Cruz tonight that I have decided to go back to Spain.”