She noticed Tomasita seemed more relaxed with Doña Lucia gone from the room, and she didn’t appear disturbed by the fact that Cruz had only invited her to come along on the picnic at his mother’s insistence.
Perhaps the young woman was not as attracted to Cruz as Sloan had at first suspected. She wondered whether Tomasita would approve Cruz’s choice of husband for her with as much docile acceptance. She felt a little sorry for the young woman, whom she had begun to sincerely like.
Once they were on their way in the carriage, Sloan enjoyed the ride across the grassy plains dotted with mesquite trees and patches of catclaw cactus. When she saw the huge ancient live oak appear on the top of a grassy hillock on the horizon, she was very glad she had come.
“Look at all the flowers!” Tomasita exclaimed, jumping from the wagon as Cruz pulled the horses to a stop at the outermost edge of the live oak.
Cisco followed with Josefa in tow, investigating the various fall wildflowers to be found. The tree made an umbrella of shade as large as the entire plantation house at Three Oaks. The live oak branches dipped low in some places and were gnarled and curved with the weight of years. Spanish moss draped the boughs like a shawl, lending majesty to the huge old tree.
“I love this spot,” Sloan said softly when she joined them. “It has to be the most beautiful place in Texas.”
Sloan felt Cruz step up behind her. His voice, soft in her ear, sent chills down her spine. “It is the memory of the hours I spent here with you in this place that I cherish.”
Sloan knew then it had been a good thing that Tomasita and Josefa had been included in the picnic plans. She would never have been able to resist Cruz’s entreaties in this magic place.
Sloan silently shared those moments of the past with Cruz-the moment when his lips had first touched hers and the first spark of sexual awareness had passed between them. She felt the invisible bond that stretched between them and shut her eyes against its power.
Cisco’s tug on her hand interrupted the tense moment.
“Come and see, Mamá, and you too, Papa. I found a ladybug.”
Sloan kept her face blank as Cisco took each of them by a hand and led them to a delicate tulip-shaped flower growing on the banks of a nearby spring. He squatted beside it, pulling the two of them down beside him, and then released their hands to point to the tiny red-and-black-spotted bug crawling on the white petal. “There she is. Do you see her?”
“I see her,” Sloan said.
Cisco looked up at Cruz. “Is she not pretty?”
“Yes, she is very pretty,” Cruz said. But his eyes sought out Sloan when he spoke.
For a moment Sloan wished things could have been different, that she could have met Cruz first and never given her love to his brother, that Cisco had been Cruz’s son.
But he wasn’t. The sooner she divorced herself from this make-believe family, the better. She rose abruptly, leaving Cruz on one knee beside Cisco. “I’m going to help Tomasita and Josefa put out all that food we brought along.”
“Do not leave, Mamá, I-”
“I have to go,” Sloan said brusquely. When she saw the hurt look in her son’s eyes and the anger in Cruz’s, she whirled and hurried away.
She looked back over her shoulder and saw Cruz and Cisco with their heads bent close together and felt a painful ache in her chest. If only… if only… If only pigs had wings they could fly, she thought with a rueful shake of her head.
“What can I do to help?” she asked as she joined the other two women.
“We are nearly finished,” Tomasita said to Sloan. As Josefa left to retrieve another quilt from the wagon to spread on the ground, Tomasita said, “If you like, you can fill those cups with tea from that jug.”
As Sloan poured the tea, she asked, “Do you miss Spain, Tomasita?”
“I miss my friends in the convent,” Tomasita replied wistfully. “Although many of the girls my age had already been claimed by their husbands-to-be as-” Tomasita stopped abruptly. She had been about to say, “as I was claimed by Don Cruz,” before she realized she was not supposed to know about their betrothal.
“Would you like to be married?” Sloan asked, unable to curb her curiosity. Sloan was surprised by the perplexed expression that appeared on Tomasita’s face.
“I do not know.” Tomasita was glad for the opportunity to express her doubts to another woman. “I do not think I would like to marry just any man,” she said. “But if the man were strong and courageous and handsome, then perhaps it would not be so bad.”
Sloan noticed that Tomasita’s eyes had unconsciously sought out Cruz while she was speaking.
“You did not mention love,” Sloan said.
Tomasita turned shyly to Sloan. “Oh, do you think it is possible I will fall in love? I have read the tales of the knights in armor and their lady loves. I had hoped… but I do not think I have ever felt that way. I mean, I have had so little to do with men… How will I know when I am in love?”
“When the right man-” Sloan bit her lip to cut herself off. She remembered a story she had told Cricket once, a story about fur boots and how you could have boots made of a lot of different kinds of fur, but one fur would feel better than all the rest. So, too, with a man-one stood out among the others.
Sloan looked at Tomasita’s expectant face. Cruz had said he would choose a husband for the girl. It was wrong to put ideas into Tomasita’s head that might never be realized. “When the right man comes along, you’ll know,” Sloan said. “I can’t really explain it any better than that.”
Fortunately for Sloan, Josefa returned from the carriage, cutting off Tomasita’s next question.
After they had eaten a hearty meal, they rested for a while and then followed Cisco’s suggestion, seconded by Tomasita over Josefa’s frowning objection, that they play tag.
Sloan had been searching for a way to throw off her worries, and the idea of frolicking around like a filly in a field of high grass sounded wonderful. “I think playing tag is a great idea,” she had agreed.
Cisco was “it” when they began, and he quickly tagged Cruz, who had been halfhearted in his efforts to escape the toddler. When Cruz began to chase Sloan, thinking how pleasant it would be to touch her, even in so innocent a game, he found her surprisingly fleet of foot.
“You’ll never catch me!” She laughed and twirled out of his way.
In her frantic escape, Sloan ran directly across Tomasita’s path. Cruz tripped over Tomasita’s heel as Sloan fled with a shriek of delight.
Cruz shouted a warning and grabbed Tomasita to protect her from his weight as they tumbled to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. When they finally stopped rolling, Cruz had come to rest atop Tomasita, their bodies pressed together from breast to hip. For a moment they were both too stunned to react.
Sloan waited for Tomasita’s lively laughter to erupt, but heard an indrawn breath instead. Tomasita’s head was turned toward her, and Sloan saw the other woman’s face was flushed with excitement and… awareness.
Cruz appeared mesmerized by the sight of the woman beneath him, and Sloan knew he had to be feeling Tomasita’s full breasts and flat belly. Sloan sucked in a breath of air and held it, waiting to see what would happen next.
Josefa’s shrill voice collided with the sound of Cisco’s childish giggle as the two of them converged on the couple lying on the ground.
“You’re ‘it,’ Tomasita!” Cisco shouted.
“Don Cruz! You must get up,” Josefa cried.
Cruz was off Tomasita in an instant. When he would have extended a hand to assist her up off the ground, Josefa stepped between them and put a work-worn hand under Tomasita’s elbow to help her rise.
Josefa brushed the dust and grass off Tomasita’s wool skirt and straightened the loose cotton camisa that had slipped off one shoulder, all the while muttering, “I warned you not to play at children’s games. It is not seemly for a young woman to cavort like a child. When Doña Lucia hears-”
; “Doña Lucia will not hear of this,” Cruz interrupted, his tone commanding obedience. “As you said, we were merely playing a game. No harm has been done.”
Sloan wasn’t so sure.
There was something more in Tomasita’s sapphire eyes when she looked up at Cruz now than had been there before, something that suggested the lively, precocious child had given way to the demure, uncertain woman.
And Cruz’s eyes followed Tomasita in a way they hadn’t before.
None of the adults were in the mood to play tag any longer, and Cruz only managed to hush Cisco’s protesting cries by gathering him up for a piggyback ride down to the nearby spring.
“It is my duty to guard your honor,” Josefa said to Tomasita when Cruz had gone. “But you must also do your part.”
“But-”
“Listen to me!” Josefa admonished fiercely. “If you continue to act so little the lady, no man will want you for his wife.”
Sloan saw from Tomasita’s trembling hands as she gathered up the picnic supplies that the young woman was humiliated by Josefa’s words. Tomasita’s flushed face revealed she was still confused by her reaction to Cruz.
Reluctant as Sloan was to admit it, she thought perhaps Cruz had been as surprised by the womanly form and potential for passion that lay hidden beneath Tomasita’s proper facade as Tomasita was herself.
Sloan felt a queer tightness in her chest. She recognized it as jealousy. She had told Cruz she didn’t want to be his wife. Only now that she saw him with Tomasita, she realized she didn’t want him to be some other woman’s husband, either. She was angry with herself for feeling so ambivalent. Either she wanted to be Cruz’s wife or she didn’t. Which was it?
She had never questioned her attraction to Cruz. But she had done everything in her power not to fall in love with him.
First, she knew the power that would give him: He would not have to command-she would be more than willing to obey. She did not think she could ever learn to trust him enough to give him such a hold on her.
And second, as irrational as she knew it was-and that was what really galled her-she could not help fearing that if she let herself love him, he would die and leave her alone.
So where did that leave her? Unsettled. Unsure. And undecided.
Cruz returned to find the three women had packed away the picnic supplies and were ready to return home. Sloan refused to meet Cruz’s eyes, and merely agreed with him when he suggested they should leave.
“We must do this again sometime soon,” Cruz said, with forced cheerfulness.
Sloan answered with the ambivalence she had been feeling since the game of tag. “If I’m still at Dolorosa, it might be fun.”
Cruz’s lips pressed together in disapproval, but Sloan noticed he didn’t contradict her. Too bad, she thought. She was itching for a good fight.
Chapter 7
SLOAN NORMALLY ROSE WITH THE COCK’S CROW and was out in the fields by first light. So she felt chagrined when she awoke on her second day at the Guerrero hacienda and realized daybreak had found her abed. She wasn’t sure what had finally awakened her until she saw the shadowy form sitting beside her on the bed.
She jerked at the sheets to cover herself as she hurriedly sat up. “What are you doing here?”
“I have duties I must see to, and I did not want to leave without speaking with you.”
Sloan had never been more aware of Cruz’s claim on her than now, when he made no apology for observing her in her sleep. “You’re here now. Talk.”
She was startled when he grasped her shoulders and forced her to lie back down. She met his eyes, then let her gaze drop to the long, tanned fingers that touched her skin. Her gaze rose again to meet his, the demand for release there for him to read. He ignored it.
Cruz couldn’t believe the seductive picture she made with her glorious sable hair scattered in abandon on the pillow. She had never looked more like his heart’s desire.
Sloan tensed when Cruz braced his palms on either side of her head, effectively imprisoning her without even laying a hand on her. Her flesh shimmered in excitement. Her blood went streaking through her veins. She felt as though he had taken ropes and spread-eagled her helplessly before him. Her whole body tautened, struggling against invisible bonds, waiting with delicious urgency for what was to come.
“I have made arrangements for you to rest today,” he said, his voice rich and deep.
“I’m not tired.”
“The dark circles under your eyes say otherwise.”
She turned her face away to escape his piercing gaze.
“Look at me.” When she didn’t respond, he reached out to cup her chin with his hand and gently turned her face toward him.
“Humor me. Rest today.”
“And tomorrow?”
“We will speak of that tomorrow.”
“What will you be doing today?” Sloan asked.
“The fall roundup has begun. I ride with my vaqueros.”
“I want to come along.”
“It is not done.” At Sloan’s frown, he added, “A lady does not ride with the vaqueros on Dolorosa.”
Sloan heard the censure in his voice. It was exactly the kind of rein she had expected him to exert on her behavior, but it distressed her to feel its tug so soon. She had trouble keeping the asperity from her voice. “With whom does a lady ride?”
“With her brother or her father… or her husband.”
“So you’re saying that unless you’re my… husband… I can’t ride with you?”
He smiled gently. “That is the way of it.”
“That’s an old-fashioned attitude that doesn’t belong in Texas.”
“In Texas, as elsewhere, a woman obeys her man-as she should.”
“You’re not my man!” Sloan snapped.
“Ah, Cebellina, and whose fault is that?”
The tension crackled between them. She denied his sensual challenge by refusing to acknowledge it. “I need something to keep me busy. I’m used to working. I can’t simply lie abed all day and do nothing. I want to come with you on the roundup.”
“No.”
Sloan looked into Cruz’s deep blue eyes and saw that on this, he would not compromise. Her chin jutted mulishly. “You can’t stop me.”
Before she could react, his fingers had laced with hers above her head, and he had covered her with his body. She stiffened, fighting her body’s riotous reaction to his-tender breasts swollen against a hard chest, a concave belly arching to male hips, slender thighs pressed to corded muscles of steel.
Her voice bit like a whip, hard and sharp. “Let me go.”
“You will stay at the hacienda?”
Sloan’s lip curled derisively. “Is this the way you treat all your guests? Am I a prisoner now?” She watched as chagrin altered his stony countenance, then saw a wry smile forming.
“No one else would dare to provoke me the way you do.”
Cruz caressed the calluses on her hands, recognizing them as the signs of a life spent laboring as no woman should have to do. He wanted to cosset her, to treat her like a queen. But she wanted none of it. He could not help admiring her for her spirit, but at the same time he shook his head in dismay at her willfulness. Perhaps it would not be so bad to let her come with him… another time.
He released her hands but did not free her completely. He felt her shiver as his hands moved slowly down her upraised arms to her shoulders, until he finally curled one hand around her nape. Absently, his fingers threaded through the dark, silky hair.
“How can I convince you to stay here? Shall I say it would please me if you do? I do not understand what makes you want to do a man’s job. Is it not enough simply to be a beautiful woman?”
“No. And I’m not beautiful.”
His hands framed her face to prevent her from looking away from him. “Oh, but you are. Very beautiful.” His thumb brushed her full lips, then traced the arch of her brow. He caressed her high cheekbone, and admired the softness of
her skin.
Sloan fought against the tremors that shook her as Cruz’s hands worked their magic. Tonio had never made her feel like this. She was strung tight as a bow with anticipation. She could not move, could not break the contact between them. Her hands were fisted above her head. It was the only way she could resist touching him back.
“You are very tempting, Cebellina,” he murmured.
When she opened her mouth to speak, his fingertips stopped her. “Also very stubborn.” He smiled at her, his eyes lambent with suppressed desire. “I cannot let you come with me on the roundup, but if you must work, then perhaps Mamá can find something for you to do here at the hacienda. Although you must know, there is no need for you to do anything.”
“All right. Fine. I’ll stay here and work in the house.”
Desperate to escape Cruz’s sensual onslaught before she succumbed to it, Sloan would have agreed to anything. The way Cruz made her feel… She could not understand or explain it; she could only fight it. Allowing these feelings to grow could only lead to more pain when she returned to Three Oaks… as she would. As she must.
When his eyes locked on her mouth, she thought he was going to kiss her. She held her breath as he hesitated, suddenly afraid he would not.
His hooded eyes focused on her lips, his nostrils flared for the scent of her. And then his mouth covered hers, their lips clinging for too brief a moment.
Slowly, as though he were tearing himself away and it was a painful thing, he released his hold on her and stood up.
“I will see you at supper tonight,” he said. Then he was gone.
Sloan lay still, waiting for the trembling to stop. She tried not to think about what had happened between her and Cruz, but avoiding the truth wouldn’t change it. She had wanted him to kiss her. She had wanted to kiss him back. How traitorous her body was! It refused to acknowledge the danger Cruz represented. She would have to be more careful. She would have to try harder to stay out of his way. And she would have to make it clear he was no longer welcome in her bedroom.
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