"No, of course not," she said, dragging herself back to the present and managing to smile again. "I think the show should be great fun. I can hardly wait."

But Richard knew that her smile was forced. Had he pushed her too hard? He only wanted her to doubt, not to grow morose. "Are you tired? Perhaps I should go now," he offered.

Tired? Yes, she was tired, but the thought of going upstairs to the bed where Joshua had made love to her until almost dawn this morning was appalling. "No, I'm fine. Stay awhile. Would you like some more sherry?"

"Yes, please," he said, rising and following her to the cabinet, where the decanter still sat.

She filled both their glasses. "Another toast," she announced with false gaiety. "To Buffalo Bill and the wild West." She clinked Richard's glass and emptied her own. Maybe if she drank enough of this stuff, her memories would fade and the bed upstairs would not seem so empty.

This time it was Richard who forgot to drink. He studied her face, the strained smile and the pain-filled eyes. For one instant he actually hated Logan for leaving her, for causing her such anguish. But only for an instant. She needed comfort now, and he was the person to give it. He removed the glass from her unresisting fingers and set it and his still-full one back on the cabinet.

"Felicity, I think it's time I went home," he said softly, capturing her puzzled gaze with his own.

She wanted to protest, to ask him to stay, but something in his eyes stopped her. His eyes were brown, the color of the sweet chocolate some thoughtful servant placed on her pillow every night. So engrossed was she in this thought that she hardly noticed when he took her hands in his.

"Sleep well, lovely one," he whispered, and before she knew what was happening, he bent and touched his mouth to hers.

His lips were soft, and warm, and sweet from the sherry, sweet but not chocolate, she noted distractedly in the moment before sanity returned and she jerked away from him.

"Richard!" she cried, lifting the back of her hand to cover her mouth.

She looked aghast, but Richard had expected just such a reaction. He gave her an amazed little laugh, as if he were surprised she had taken offense. "It was just a friendly kiss between cousins. I told you, we're kissing cousins. You remember that, don't you?"

"You mustn't ever do that again, Richard," she said, horrified because for just the barest second she had found the kiss a pleasant comfort against her terrible sense of loss.

He managed to look abashed. "I certainly won't if it disturbs you so much," he promised. "I only thought you might be feeling neglected because Joshua left you and…" He stopped at the sound of her anguished cry, genuinely sorry to have caused her more pain, but knowing he would have to cause her more still if he was to succeed.

"Please, Richard, I… I think you'd better go now," she said, alarmed to discover she was trembling. But she was far too upset to decide whether the trembling was caused by Richard's kiss or by his reminder of Joshua's hasty departure.

"Yes, yes, of course," Richard quickly agreed, but when he tried to take her hand again, she shrank from his touch. He settled for a formal bow as he took his leave.

Felicity allowed herself one more glass of sherry before summoning a maid to help her undress. At least she would not have to enter the bedroom alone, she reasoned. But the girl was much too quick in her ministrations, and too soon Felicity found herself alone in the dark, curled up under the covers of the big bed.

Her heart still seemed to beat too quickly, and she shivered against the silken sheets, every nerve quivering with the need to be touched. How could Richard's kiss have caused such a reaction? she wondered miserably. The very thought was wicked and sinful, especially when it wasn't Richard's touch she longed for at all.

No, she realized sadly, it was Joshua's touch she wanted. Her reaction to Richard was simply a result of her last night with her husband. She shivered again and surrendered at last to the relief of tears. She would have to be very careful. Richard was an attractive man, and he cared for her very much. If she gave him any encouragement at all, something terrible might happen, something terrible that they would both regret.

"Oh, Joshua," she sobbed, "why did you do this to me?"

Josh raised his hand in greeting when he caught sight ol Grady waiting for him in the ranch yard. He kicked his rented mount into a trot to cover more quickly the final distance to his home. He hadn't notified anyone of his arrival, just in case some of Ortega's spies were waiting for that information. When the stage had left him at Prospect this morning, he had gotten a horse from the livery stable and headed home.

Home. Josh glanced around the ranch with a practiced eye, looking for any sign that something was out of the ordinary, but he saw nothing unusual. Nothing, that is, except for the sling on Grady's arm. And the fact that Felicity would not be there to greet him.

"Welcome home, boss," Grady said when Josh reined up beside him. "I'm sorry I had to send for you. I hated like hell to ruin your visit and all…"

"That's all right," Josh reassured him, swinging down from his horse. "Just tell me what's been happening."

As Josh unsaddled, Grady filled him in on the events that had occurred since his own ambush.

"… and then yesterday we found ten calves with their throats cut," Grady finished, reluctantly giving Josh the last in a long list of atrocities.

Josh swore. "That just doesn't sound like Ortega. The man has never been vicious," he protested.

But Grady shook his head. "We've been hearing all kinds of rumors. Seems like he almost died last spring when you shot him, and he's out for revenge. From the things he's been doing around here, he must be plumb loco."

Josh had to agree, if it was indeed Ortega who was responsible for these acts. Unfortunately, he also had another enemy who might well hate him enough to destroy his property in such a cruel manner. "Has anybody seen that Jeremiah fellow around?" he asked.

"No, but…" Grady hesitated a moment, reluctant to mention something that might be painful to Josh. "Candace finally told me that he came to see her. She said you already knew about it."

"Yeah, Blanche put it in the letter," Josh reported as the two men started toward the house, where Josh knew he would find Candace.

Candace was waiting for him, and Josh stopped short at the sight of her. How could she possibly have aged so much in the few short weeks he had been gone? The face he had seen every day of his life had gone from ageless to old in a month's time.

"Oh, Mr. Josh," she cried, tears spilling down her ebony cheeks. "I'm so sorry!"

"There, now, it's not your fault," he murmured, taking her trembling body in his arms. Had she always been this thin? he wondered as he led her over to the settee and made her sit down. He motioned to Grady to leave them alone, and then, sitting beside her, he put his arm over her shoulders and soothed her as best he could until at last she quieted.

"I should never have made you promise," she said, wiping the tears from her face with the sleeve of her dress. "If you'd killed him then-"

"Hush, you don't mean that," he chastened. "He's your son! And besides, we don't know that he's involved in what's been happening."

"But he's evil, Mr. Josh, all filled up with hate. You should have heard the things he said about you and Miss Felicity. Mrs. Delano thought maybe he was only trying to scare me, but she didn't see his eyes. He hates you so…" Candace drew a shuddering breath. "And he told me he was going to join up with Ortega again and help him ruin you. And it's all my fault."

"Candace, it is not your fault," Josh insisted.