Those dark eyes grew cold again. "Oh yes, his father," he repeated mockingly. "We all have to do what his father says, don't we? He wouldn't let you bring me along to Texas because a little nigger bastard might embarrass Mrs. Logan, isn't that right?" But he didn't pause for her reply. "And when he wanted you to stay here, you stayed here, with his son!"

At the time her reasons had seemed so important, but in the face of his hostility, she knew they were meaningless. The words she would have spoken in explanation died on her lips. She spoke the only ones that still seemed to matter. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Sorry!" he exploded, shoving her away from him in disgust. The table behind her toppled with a crash, and she fell amidst the broken glass. A shard sliced the palm of her hand, but she did not even feel the pain.

His hands balled into fists as if he would strike her, and that was when Candace noticed the guns he wore. Two guns, slung low on his hips and tied down to his lean thighs the way a gunfighter would wear them. "No!" she murmured in protest at what her son had become.

But he misunderstood her. "Don't beg! I'm not going to hurt you," he informed her with contempt. "Even though I have every reason to kill you for what you did to me, I'm going to let you live so you can see what I've got planned for Joshua Logan."

"No! Not Joshua!" she cried, scrambling to her feet. She could not let the two of them fight. If they did, she knew one of them would not survive, and she could not bear to lose either of them. "I'm the one who hurt you! Joshua never did anything to you!" In desperation, she grabbed at his arms.

Jeremiah's broad mouth curled into that evil smile again. "He stole everything that should have belonged to me. I'm going to get a little of it back. I might even take his bride!"

"No!" Candace screamed, frantically clutching at him as if she might somehow shake him loose from his evil intentions.

But he shoved her away again. She staggered, almost falling. "Don't do this, Jeremiah, please!" she begged, but he only laughed, a horrible sound that sent prickles of terror racing down her spine.

Then she noticed the crimson stain on his sleeve. "You're bleeding," she said with genuine concern.

He glanced down to where she was pointing and plucked at his sleeve in momentary confusion. Then he noticed her hand. "That's your blood, old woman. How fitting. Your blood in me and now on me. It's like a baptism. And pretty soon, with a little luck, I'll have Logan's blood, too!"

With that awful promise, he slipped silently out the door and disappeared into the shadows of the ranch yard. "Wait!" she called, but he was gone. For one instant she considered raising an alarm, calling out the men to hunt him down and bring him back. Then common sense stopped her. He had, after all, done nothing except threaten and frighten her. Perhaps that was all he wanted to do; perhaps that would be enough to satisfy his craving for revenge. Although her mind knew she was grasping at straws, her mother's heart longed to believe the lie. She remained silent, weeping in the doorway until the throbbing in her hand grew so intense, she could no longer ignore it.

Josh awoke with a start, disoriented and confused to find himself still abed with the sun shining so brightly outside. And what was wrong with the bed? The sides were so high and… Then he remembered. He turned his head on the pillow and smiled. All he could see was a cloud of yellow hair. She was lying on her stomach, her face buried in the pillow, one hand stuffed beneath it.

Still smiling, he reached over and brushed the silken hair away from her cheek. Asleep, she again resembled the child he had once thought her. No trace remained of the tigress who had driven him insane last night. His smile faded as he wondered if it had really been as wonderful as he remembered. All he was really certain of was that he had never made love to a woman so completely before. He had wanted to devour her, to absorb her into himself. Even the piercing pleasure he recalled so vividly had not been quite enough to satisfy him.

A slight sense of unease prickled against his skin, and he turned onto his side to study her face. As he did, his disquiet grew. Emotions he had hoped never to feel again churned inside him, the same emotions he had experienced after the first time they had made love. That time he had blamed them on guilt, but he no longer needed to feel guilty. He had married her. He had made everything right. Last night was sanctioned both legally and morally.

And still he felt the weakness, that debilitating weakness he knew could destroy him. He wanted her, of course. He understood that much of it. She was the most desirable woman he had ever known. But there was more. There was the need, the need that having her simply did not satisfy. In fact, having her only made it worse.

Josh frowned down at her lovely face. How could so tiny a creature be having such a profound effect on him? He considered this question for a long moment before shrugging it off. Really, he was being top analytical about the whole thing. He wanted her and he had her. She would share his bed every night for the rest of his life. Surely in the course of the next fifty years he would be able to slake this mysterious desire. At least he would have a lot of fun trying, he decided.

His smile returned.

He leaned down and kissed her sleep-flushed cheek at the exact spot where her dimple would appear. Slowly, her eyes opened, and gradually recognition dawned. "Good morning, Mrs. Logan," he said.

Felicity blinked at the brilliance of his smile. How handsome he looked with his silver hair falling in his eyes and his jaw shaded with dark stubble. Her own lips stretched into an answering smile. "Good morning, Mr. Logan," she replied impishly.

His eyebrows arched with disapproval. "Are we back to 'Mr. Logan' again? Last night you called me 'Joshua,'" he reminded her wickedly.

Felicity blushed furiously at the memory of how she had sobbed out his name. His fingers reached out to lovingly stroke her burning cheek. "What do I have to do to get you to call me that again?" he taunted.

Certain he was teasing her, Felicity hastily scrambled up to a sitting position, being extremely careful to keep herself covered with the sheet. Where on earth was her nightdress? she wondered. Could she really have slept all night in bed with Mr. Logan without any clothes at all? "It's awfully late," she said, squinting at the partially draped window. "I guess we'd better be getting up."

"Not so fast, Mrs. Logan," he said, capturing her arm and drawing her back down beside him. "I'd like to enjoy my wife once more before I do that."

Felicity stared at him in disbelief. Now she was certain he was teasing. "It… it's broad daylight," she pointed out, even though her lower limbs were already starting to melt against his.

His gray eyes danced. "I don't think I can wait until dark," he said, pressing the heat of his desire against her thigh.

She gasped, but his words stirred an unpleasant memory. "You didn't have any trouble waiting last night," she said aloud before she could stop herself.

He frowned, obviously confused.

"You kept me waiting for an hour," she reminded him, angered anew at that slight even though she knew she should not mention it. She knew only too well that men didn't like women who were shrewish, and here she was nagging him on her very first day as his wife.

But to her surprise, he smiled. "Did you miss me?" he asked hopefully.

Felicity gasped in outrage, but when she would have pulled away, he threw a leg over hers, pinning her to the bed. "Did you really think I stayed away on purpose?" he asked, grinning down into her furious face. "I had to stay there and drink with them because if they'd thought I was trying to get away, they would have guessed where I was going and followed me. I wouldn't have liked that one bit. Would you?" he asked cheerfully.