Which brought him to Sara. With something perilously close to tenderness, he gazed at her, noting the sweet curve of her cheek, the soft temptation of her mouth and the sensual lure of her half-naked body. But even more than these obvious charms, something about her had always called to him, he couldn't deny it—^no matter if she had schemed to get her grasping little hands on his fortune! It was true, Sam's will did force his hand, but he doubted that even to regain Casa Paloma would he have tied himself to a woman he hated or to one who didn't arouse him.
He smiled faintly. There was no doubt that Sara aroused him. Even now he could feel his body hardening, desire running through him, and the urge to lie down on that bed beside her and kiss her awake was nearly overpowering, but he held back. He had been oddly relieved that she was not pregnant, that no child would result from that unbearably sweet coupling beneath the live oaks, and for reasons that he dared not explore too closely, he didn't want her to believe that it had been only to meet the requirements of Sam's will that he had abducted her and made love to her. For those same unexplored reasons.
it was also important that Sara understand that his willingness to marry her had nothing to do with that damned will.
And yet, with blunt candor he coolly admitted to himself that the conditions of his father's will made her the most logical candidate for his hand, and if he viewed the situation unemotionally, it shouldn't matter to him at all what Sara thought of his reasons for marrying her. A hard expression suddenly crossed his face. Considering how she had schemed to put him in precisely this position, she should be ecstatically pleased that her plan had acmally worked!
It was that hard expression on his dark face that Sara saw when she first woke, and the sight of it galvanized her. She sprang upright, frantically clutching her slipping towel. "What are you doing here?" she demanded breathlessly, unaware of how seductive she looked with her golden-honey hair falling in tumbled waves around her bare shoulders and her long legs showing from beneath the towel.
"Now, is that any way to greet your novioT Yancy drawled, a glint of devilment dancing in his eyes, his thumbs hooked into the wide black belt he wore around his lean waist.
"You're not my novior Sara spat furiously, her cheeks flushed with temper. "You may have abducted me from Magnolia Grove and presently you might have me at your mercy, but under no circumstances am I ever going to consent to marry you!" Rashly, she added, "And you can't make me!"
She knew it was a mistake the moment the words left her mouth. His lazy air vanished and, his mouth grim, he reached for her, jerking her into his arms.
He kissed her bruisingly. "You silly little fool—I can make you do anything I want," he growled against her mouth. "You forget that you are in my domain now.
There is a priest in the village, a priest who owes his living to me, and all around you are my people. Do you really think that I could not have my priest marry us—that I need your cooperation to accomplish our marriage?" He laughed, some of his anger vanishing. The brutal hold on her arms lessening, he said easily, "Sweetheart, you can't stop me from doing whatever I damn well please! And you would do well to remember that fact! Try my temper too far and you might come to rue the day you met me."
His words frightened her, but she had no intention of letting him know that, and lifting her chin pugnaciously, she said fiercely, "I already rue the day I met you, so it would seem that I have nothing to fear!"
Yancy stared at her for a long moment, an odd smile slanting across his face. He pulled her back against him and brushed his mouth against hers. 'Then I have no reason not to do as I please, do I?"
Before Sara had time to guess his intent, he was pushing her down into the welcoming softness of the feather bed. They fell together, Yancy's big body half covering hers, his mouth closing unerringly over hers.
Infuriated by his actions, Sara fought him, but the towel proved no barrier to Yancy's seeking hands. Effortlessly he flung it aside, and as his lips slid like sweet fire down her throat to her breasts, she groaned half in pleasure, half in rage at what he was doing to her. Determined not to give in to him, she stubbornly tried to ignore the sweet sensations beginning to course through her body, but for just a moment, when his hand traveled down her belly and she knew what he was seeking, she almost forgot why she was fighting him
His seeking fingers found the slick, moist warmth between her thighs and Sara's whole body fairly hummed from the sudden stab of desire that shuddered through her.
It would be so easy, she thought hazily, so easy to lose herself in his arms, so easy to let him seduce her into compliance, so easy ...
She was still trembling on the brink of capitulation when Yancy rose from the bed and hastily stripped away his clothing. It was a tactical error on his part, because while he was swift in his actions, it gave Sara just long enough to realize how dangerously close she was to letting him manipulate her once more.
She had hesitated almost too long, but even as Yancy's naked body came down on the bed beside her, she rolled away from him, intent upon putting a safe distance between them. Yancy would have none of it, though, and in spite of Sara's fists beating on his chest, he pulled her closer to him. Her hands caught between their thrashing bodies, she suffered his kiss, and while there was fire in her gaze when he lifted his head, it was the fire of fury, not passion.
"Let me go!" she hissed at him, her face flushed and her eyes bright with anger. What he might have replied was lost when the door to their room opened unexpectedly.
Startled, Sara turned to look in that direction and she was suffused with embarrassment, as was poor Maria, who stood frozen in the doorway, carrying a tray of fresh Sangria and warm, fragrant sweet cakes. Maria instantly averted her horrified gaze and, not looking in their direction, hastily placed the tray on a nearby table and beat a frantic retreat from the room.
Sara's cheeks were every bit as red as Maria's had been, but Yancy ... Yancy sprawled out beside Sara on the bed and let out a whoop of laughter. Scrambling upright and clutching the towel protectively in front of her, Sara glared at him.
"I don't find this at all amusing!" she said tightly.
Yancy only smfled at her. "Don't you, sweetheart? Well, quite frankly, from my point of view it couldn't have turned out better!" His eyes dancing with wicked satisfaction, he drawled, "Now try telling everyone that you are not my noviaV^
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For a long time after Yancy had left her, an inftiriat-ingly smug smile on his hard mouth, Sara remained on the rumpled bed, staring blindly at the swaths of mosquito netting overhead. Her thoughts were not kind.
Aware that she was accomplishing nothing by just lying there, Sara eventually roused herself. Appropriate apparel seemed to be her most immediate need and she viewed the heap of travel-stained clothes on the floor near the brass mb with distaste. Although she hadn't seen any of the contents, she knew that in the saddlebags on the pack horse there were other things to wear—on one of their friendlier days, Yancy had told her that he'd had Tansy pick out several items for her to wear until the remainder of her clothes arrived at del Sol. At the moment, however, the decidedly shabby calico gown and well-worn knickerbockers seemed to be her only choice. Clasping the towel more tightly around her naked body, she reluctantly approached the pile on the floor.
Fortunately, before she was forced to don the soiled clothing, there was a loud rap on the door, and at Sara's command, the heavy mahogany-and-iron door was pushed open. Maria stood in the opening, holding the heavy leather saddlebags in her arms. Not meeting Sara's eyes, with no sign of her former warm friendliness, Maria marched across the room and laid the saddlebags on the
bed. Stiffly she muttered, "Senor Yancy said that you would need these things. Would you like me to unpack them for you and hang the garments in the wardrobe?"
Sara's cheeks flushed, hot shame flooding through her at the memory of Maria's stunned face when she had seen her in Yancy's arms. It was obvious, too, that Maria was still very embarrassed by the
intimate scene she had interrupted earlier and that she heartily disapproved of such a shocking breach of morality. It was depressingly obvious that Sara's reputation had been gravely damaged and that in Maria's eyes she was a fallen, disgraced woman.
Sara sighed, resentment against Yancy building in her breast. Quietly she said, "Thank you for bringing me the clothes, but no, I don't need you to unpack for me—^I can do it myself." She sent Maria a tentative smile and added hghtly, "As you can see, there really aren't that many things."
Maria ignored her friendly overture and merely nodded and said coolly, *Then if you don't need me, I shall be on my way." Her body rigid with disapproval, she turned around and began to walk away. At the door, her back still to Sara, she said reluctantly, "There is a bell rope by the bed. If you want me, all you have to do is pull it—it rings a bell in the kitchen."
What Sara would have liked to do with the heavy velvet rope was to put it around Yancy's neck and strangle him, but she only said meekly, "Thank you, Maria. You've been very helpful."
Her depression growing, Sara unenthusiastically turned her gaze on the dusty saddlebags. Crossing to the bed, she began to unpack, pleased to see the amount and variety of clothing that Tansy had managed to smff into the saddlebags. She shook out two gowns and a calico wrapper, and laid aside three pairs of fine muslin drawers and two delicately embroidered
chemises, along with a whale-bone corset. There were several other items that Tansy had thoughtfully packed, and after dressing herself in underclothes and a dark green, heavy skirt, which she topped with a favorite puffed muslin chemisette, Sara busied herself with hanging up the remaming garments in the cavernous wardrobe, which took up nearly one entire wall of her bedroom. She was furious at Tansy's betrayal, but she had to admit that Tansy had included just about everything she would need—even a chintz wrapper and a much-preferred soft muslin nightgown.
Feeling adequately armored by her undergarments, drawers, petticoat and chemise, and once her hair was neatly arranged in its usual tidy comet of honey-colored braids, Sara straightened her shoulders and ventured forth from her room. She was aware that if word of her indiscretion with Yancy had spread to the other servants, Maria's attitude toward her was likely to be repeated by everyone else. Sara was not as serene as she looked as she strolled down the wide covered walkway toward the main part of the hacienda. Inwardly she was shaking and nearly sick at the thought of being the object of everyone's condemnation. Much to her great relief, it appeared that Maria had held her tongue, for the two servants she passed on her way smiled warmly at her and greeted her shyly.
Darkness had fallen, but the walkways were lit by the soft glow of lanterns hung on either side of graceful arches, the patio bathed in a faint golden light. If Sara had thought the patio beautiful and appealing earlier, seeing it now by lantern light utterly beguiled her. The sound of the tinkling fountain drew her, and she was delighted to note the bright flashes of goldfish swimming lazily in its depths.
Everything about del Sol that Sara had seen so far enchanted her, from its dark-eyed, soft-spoken people to
this lovely, inviting flagstone patio, and she wondered with a frown how Margaret could have taken such a vehement dislike to the place. Granted she had not explored the entire hacienda, but obviously it was an unexpected oasis of luxurious comfort and opulent elegance in the vast, trackless wilds of Texas. And even if, during her one and only visit, the place had been crumbling and neglected as others had indicated, couldn't Margaret have seen its obvious potential? Had she been blind? Or had she used the condition of del Sol at that time as an excuse to throw herself into Sam's arms? It was a disturbing idea and deliberately Sara turned her thoughts to other things; she had enough to worry about without speculating uselessly on the motives of a woman long-dead ... a murdered woman.
Standing there in the tranquil, softly glowing golden patio, for a second Sara was conscious of a frisson of uneasiness down her spine. Had Yancy killed Margaret? Was she now in the hands of a murderer? Again instinct told her that she was foolish to think such thoughts, but she was conscious that until Margaret's murder was solved neither she nor anyone who had been touched by Margaret's malignant personality would ever be completely free from unexpected moments of ugly suspicion and fear.
Muttering exasperatingly to herself, with an effort Sara firmly wrenched her mind away from further unproductive musings, and after one last look at the bright red-and-gold flashes of the darting fish, she continued on her way to the front section of the hacienda. Entering the commodious main sala, Sara hesitated, uncertain of her destination. The sound of male voices came to her and as she turned in their direction, she spied Yancy walking toward her, tall and breathtaking in a white, full-sleeved shirt open at the throat and a pair of well-fitting black breeches and boots. At his side, almost
trotting to keep up with his long stride, was a much shorter, roundly shaped older gentleman who wore the frock and accoutrements of a priest.
Sara's heart sank. Apriestl A ghastly sensation passed through her. What if Yancy had told the priest of their earlier intimacy? The thought of facing the moral outrage she was certain she would see in the little priest's eyes almost made her run from the room. Telling herself that she had done nothing wrong, that Yancy's soul was no doubt blacker than Satan's himself, she forced herself to remain where she was, a polite smile fixed on her mouth.
A nKx:king gleam in the depths of his amber-gold eyes, Yancy sauntered near her and murmured, "Ah, there you are, my dear! Let me introduce you to Padre Quintero. I have invited him to share our antojitos with us this first night in your new home, and he is most eager to meet the woman I intend to marry."
Wishing fiercely that she had the courage to shout out the truth, Sara felt her smile become even more fixed, but she did not refute Yancy's words. Mentally cursing herself for being such a coward, she politely nodded to the little priest, relieved yet puzzled that Padre Quintero displayed no condemnation toward her.
Once the initial introductions were completed and they had seated themselves in comfortable chairs of rich oxblood-red Spanish leather, Padre Quintero leaned forward with a twinkle in his brown eyes and lightly patted S^a's hand where it lay on the arm of her chair. "Yancy has already explained your situation to me," he murmured gently, "and while I abhor the fact that he deemed it necessary to marry you first in a civil ceremony in San Felipe, I cannot express how elated I am that he wants to do the proper thing and marry you again, here at del Sol among his people, in a Catholic service."
How she kept from gaping like a village idiot at the smiling little priest, Sara never knew. Recovering herself slightly from what she had just heard, Sara shot a fulminating glance at Yancy. What an unscrupulous devil he was! Telling the priest that they were already married! She had to admit, however, that he had certainly concocted a clever lie to salvage her reputation with his people, and she supposed she should be grateful for his quick action. Regrettably, she wasn't—^not in the least! Forcing a bright smile on her face, she tore her furious gaze away from the mocking amusement in Yancy's eyes and looked at Padre Quintero. "Oh, you can always trust my husband^ —and she nearly choked on the word as she said it—^'*to do whatever he considers appropriate!"
Yancy sent her a seraphic smile, and for one moment Sara was so consumed with rage that she actually saw scarlet spots dance in front of her eyes. There were several similar incidents like that during the time that followed, but somehow she got through the remainder of the evening, her temper not at all helped by Yancy's infuriatingly solicitous behavior or the provocative glances he sent her way when he had said something particularly provoking.
It was with great relief that she finally bade the chatty little priest good night and fled to the sanctuary of her room. But even there solace was denied her. An embarrassingly penitent Maria was waiting for her, and Sara had hardly stepped through the doorway before Maria exclaimed, "Oh, senora, can you forgive me! I did not know that you and Senor Yancy were already m
arried!" Her dark eyes full of misery and begging for forgiveness, she said breathlessly, "It was very wrong of me to act as I did in any case, but once Senor Yancy came to me and so kindly explained about your marriage in San Felipe, I understood completely." Maria hung her head. "I should
not have burst in on you that way, and truly, it was very wrong of me to treat you so coldly. I am so ashamed! Will you forgive me?"
Feeling absolutely wretched about Maria's unnecessary abashment and furious with Yancy for creating this situation, Sara said quickly, "Oh, please, do not even mention it! You did nothing wrong. Let us forget it!"
Her face wreathed in smiles, Maria breathed, "Oh, senora! You are so kind! No wonder Senor Yancy loves you so!" Shyly, she added, "I knew that there had to be some explanation. Senor Yancy is such a good man— he would do nothing that was improper!"
Her teeth fairly grinding together, Sara managed to say "Oh, yes! Senor Yancy is indeed a paragon! Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to retire for the night."
Her eyes lowered, a smile twitching at the comers of her mouth, Maria said archly, "Ah, I understand—the senor is impatient to join his bride. I shall leave you immediately and not disturb you again until the morning." She smiled slyly. "'Late in the morning."
Only when the door had closed behind Maria's voluptuous figure was Sara able to give full vent to her frustration. Muttering and swearing disgracefully, she threw herself down on the bed and beat her fists into the feather-filled mattress. By envisioning all of the horrible fates she would like to inflict upon her tormentor, she was able to release the worst of the bottled rage within herself. Eventually she felt a little better—besides, there was no fate too horrible for him!
The next several days passed in an angry red haze for Sara, her jumbled emotions veering wildly from mournful defeat one moment to blazing defiance the next. By the time she had been at del Sol for the better part of a week, only one thing was clear in her mind: she had to escapel
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