He had been truly horrified. “My God, Ro! I didn’t know what women have to go through, havin’ a child.” And she, smiling, eyes like purple bruises in the whiteness of her face, saying: “I didn’t either. But I’d go through it again, if you will.” And as a matter of fact he had felt almost faint himself, when it was all over, although he’d never have admitted it to her. But it had made his son all the more his—had brought Rowena closer, and sent the memory of Elena even further away.
Elena—strange that he should think of her today. Perhaps it was seeing the jail across the street that had brought her back as she had stood there in the dark, windowless cell under the courthouse in Sante Fe, filling it with her particular fragrance; the hat he bought her in El Paso worn forward over her forehead.
“So you couldn’t do it after all! You let him almost kill you instead—and all because of that white-faced bitch you married. Married!” Her laughter had been sharp as thrown knives, making him wince. “Was it to give that brat she’s carrying a name? Were you being noble, Lucas mio? Or has she really made you as weak as her own father was? I had to see for myself, you see.”
“And now you have seen.”
Her high heels clicked on the stone floor as she walked impatiently up and down before the barred door.
“Is that really your voice, sounding so cold? What are you trying to hide behind it?” And then, her voice dropping, becoming low and slightly husky: “Do you really think you will ever forget me? You’ll get over her, just as you got over all the others—she’ll begin to bore you.”
“Elena—why are you really here?” Lucas’s voice sounded tired.
“Why isn’t she here? No—I came to see for myself. And I wanted to see his face. It will be the first time, you know, since…” For the first time he heard some agitation under the smooth, cutting voice, and meeting her eyes, wide and shining with a liquid brilliance, he could almost see her as she had been then. Young, and uncertain of herself. Lovely, even then.
“So he’s decided to accept you as his son, has he? I am almost surprised…”
“Am I his son?”
Brows arching, she shrugged. “I suppose so. Alejandro said so. But it was only for Alma’s sake, and because of his guilt, that he saved you. He could never love you, for all his talk of duty—but you knew that, didn’t you? My poor Lucas, you were starved for love, until we found each other, you and I. And now—” again her laugh, “even now I think that you long to take me in your arms, isn’t that right? There is that between us, mio, that no other woman can change or take away. Remember that.”
Elena’s exotic, perfumed presence in the courtroom had only added another touch of drama into an event that had already been magnified out of proportion. Lucas had not been able to decide if he felt more like an audience of one or a freak on exhibition. Certainly, he had seemed to be the only person who had not come out of curiosity, or to play some role to the hilt. There had been times when, either lying in his cell or sitting in that overcrowded room beside his attorney, he had begun to wonder who he was. All his life before there had been two things. His love for Elena and his hate for Todd Shannon. And then, suddenly, he was adrift. Not even knowing himself.
When he came back from Santa Fe to tell Ro what he planned to do he had half-expected that she would stay where she was and wait for him to come back to her later. This was what Elena would have done.
“I just don’t know where I’m goin’ yet. Or what I’m going to do or even who the hell I am an’ what I want. Do you understand that, Ro? I’ve got to find my own answers—mine.”
“All right, Lucas. When do you want to leave? I can be ready whenever you are.”
He had argued with her, tried threatening, even tried picking a quarrel with her. But she had followed, gently rounding belly and all. And stayed.
“There they are.”
Back in the present Lucas’s sun-squinted eyes went from the laughing young man and woman who stood in front of the Depot, to the older man, towering above them both. He swore softly.
“I should have guessed.”
“Well? Did you expect to keep avoiding him for the rest of our lives? What are you afraid of, Lucas?”
He looked at her angrily, fingers going up involuntarily to tug at the black neckerchief that concealed a thin, red scar, circling his neck.
“Sometimes, woman, you push me a mite too far!”
He was annoyed at her, and more annoyed at himself. Did Shannon really think he’d been avoiding him for some damnfool reason like that? Strange, that he could never think about the man as his father. Just Shannon. Hated name he refused to bear.
The boy was standing up, eyes big with excitement.
“Mama…?”
Rowena looked over his head at Lucas, and after a second in which his mouth stayed taut and hard she saw one corner lift in a sheepish grin.
He hitched the buggy to the rail, ducking under it, and came around to lift her down. First her, and then the child. The usual knot of hangers-on had been enlarged, although all kept their distance, trying to keep their stares unobtrusive.
“Damned if that isn’t Todd Shannon and his son—they say they ain’t spoken a word to each other since the trial some years back.”
“His wife—wasn’t she engaged to the old man hisself once?”
It was bubbly Corinne, who hadn’t changed at all since Rowena had seen her last, except to become slightly plump, who first broke the awkward silence that followed introductions.
“My goodness, Rowena, it’s still hard for me to imagine that you’re a mother. Uncle Todd, little Guy Ramon looks exactly like you. He has your eyes, except they’re not so flinty-hard… oh!”
Jack Davidson reddened as Corinne clapped a hand before her mouth, eyes wide.
“Oh! Oh I’m sorry! I did promise I wouldn’t let my tongue run away with me, didn’t I? But it just seems so strange, somehow. Like something in a storybook, except that it couldn’t have been very pleasant for all of you, could it? I mean…”
“Corinne!”
“Let her be, Jack. At least she speaks her feeling, which is more than most of us have learned to do.”
Shannon’s voice was gruff—he was looking from under his beetling brows at his grandson, who stared back curiously, apparently unafraid.
“You understand English, boy?”
“And Spanish and Apache,” Rowena put in quickly. “Would you care to be introduced, Todd?”
She probably planned all this, Lucas was thinking, from behind his frowning expression. She, and that friend of hers. Damn all scheming women anyhow! He caught Corinne’s half-laughing, half-apologetic glance at that moment, and smiled back at her unwillingly. She was honest, at any rate. Shannon had been right about that much.
“Well! Now that we’ve been introduced I may as well tell you that you don’t look at all as I used to imagine.” Corinne tilted her head consideringly. “You remind me of—yes, of Heathcliff, in Miss Bronte’s book, Wuthering Heights. Although, of course, Rowena has far too much character to be a meek and mild Cathy, don’t you think so?”
“I have never met a woman who talked as much and from whom I actually felt I needed rescuing!” Lucas said wrathfully later.
“Did you really think so? I thought you liked Corinne. The way you kept staring at her with that look on your face…!”
He looked down rather grimly at Rowena, who merely smiled back at him demurely.
“She fascinated me, all right! And you—suppose you tell me what the look on your face means, ma’am? Are you satisfied with your trickery? My God, I never thought I’d actually feel relieved to have him suggest we go someplace more private to get acquainted. And I’m warning you right now, I don’t aim to sit by her all through dinner either! How in hell did I let you talk me into this?”
“Are you really ready to listen? I think it’s because, like me, you suddenly saw Todd today as—a lonely old man. And because he is Guy’s grandfather, and you and I don’t have
the right to deprive him of that very special relationship. Oh, Lucas!” Rowena turned suddenly, putting her arms around him, and the movement of her body against his was supple, and still exciting. “Think of all the years that were wasted in feuds and misunderstandings! And think of what your adopted grandfather, the shaman, said once, about seeing both sides of a coin. Is there any reason why, now that time has passed, you and Todd cannot greet each other in a civilized fashion?” Sensing his indecision, she added slyly: “When Montoya brought Luz and their children to visit us this spring you were perfectly willing to forget everything he’d done to try and keep us apart!”
“Didn’t notice that you acted too mad, either.”
“Well?”
“If you don’t want to get seduced before dinner and keep everyone waiting, I guess we’d better go on downstairs.” A bar of crimson light, like a sullen parting shot from the setting sun, pushed its way through the partially drawn drapes of the hotel window, making the lamplight seem suddenly insignificant.
They looked into each other’s faces; searching, renewing, re-evaluating. It was as if, without words, Rowena was saying: “I love you, and I have chosen you. There is room in our lives for other people too, now that we are sure of each other.”
In the corridor outside a child laughed, and Lucas lifted her chin up with his finger, brushing his lips gently against hers.
“There, ma’am. That’s to hold you until later. Let’s go rescue that boy of ours and get him to bed before he’s spoiled rotten with all the attention he’s been getting.”
The distant ghosts receded, and were gone. Arm in arm, laughing, they left the room.
About the Author
New York Times bestselling author Rosemary Rogers has been called the “reigning queen of romance,” “the princess of passion,” and “the bestselling novelist in America,” with over 60 million copies of her books sold. She has written twenty-four bestselling romances, nineteen of which have been New York Times bestsellers. She was born in Ceylon (now Sri Lanka).
Table of Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Prologue
i
ii
The Journals of Rowena Elaine Dangerfield
Part I
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Part II
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Part III
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Part IV
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Part V
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Part VI
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Forty-Four
Forty-Five
Forty-Six
Forty-Seven
Epilogue
Silver City—1878
About the Author
Back Cover
The Wildest Heart Page 59