She hadn’t been near a mirror this morning, but she could imagine her face also showed signs of her hurried journey from Three Oaks to San Antonio. Her one vanity, her waist-length sable-brown hair, was tied at her nape in a single tail with a piece of crumpled ribbon that had once been pale yellow.

There was nothing about her normal working-day appearance to entice a man as handsome as Antonio Guerrero to fall in love with her. She should have realized from the beginning that he’d had other reasons for what he had said and done.

Sloan felt her stomach roil with the disgust she felt every time she thought of how the man she had loved had so coldly and calculatedly used that love to get from her what he had wanted.

She would have done anything for him. He had used her to further his sordid plot with the Mexican government to invade Texas, giving her secret messages to carry to his cohorts. She had done his bidding without questioning him, because she had loved and trusted him. How gullible she had been! How stupid!

It was hard to remember the initial joy she had felt at finding out she was pregnant with Tonio’s child. Hard to remember the hours when she had pressed her hands against her belly and thought with wonder of their child growing within her. She should have realized something was wrong when Tonio did not immediately offer to marry her when she told him she was pregnant.

“We must wait, chiquita,” he had said. “There will be time enough to marry and give the child a name.”

Of course, he had never intended to marry her. It had been devastating to discover he was a traitor, that he had been murdered by one of his own men, Alejandro Sanchez, and that she must somehow bear all on her own the sorrow of his death, the shock of his betrayal and the shame of being pregnant and unwed.

It had not taken long for sorrow and shock and shame to become hate and anger and resolution. She had thought it out, weighing every detail, and made the only rational decision possible: She would not keep Tonio’s child.

She was bitter and angry for what Tonio had done. She did not think she could love the child of such a man, or even maintain indifference to it. She was afraid she would blame the child for the sins of the father, and she feared the hateful emotions she felt whenever she thought of Tonio and the bastard child she was to bear him.

To spare the innocent child, she had sought out Tonio’s elder brother, Cruz, and they had come to an agreement.

Sloan sighed and shook her head. She still could not believe she had acted as she had. She could only blame her actions on the turbulent emotions she had felt at the time. She could vividly recall the disbelieving look on Cruz’s face when she told him what she wanted to do.

“You will give away your own child?” he had exclaimed in horror.

“It would bring back too many memories to keep Tonio’s baby,” she had replied.

“Surely in time the memories will fade,” he had said, “and you will want your son or daughter-”

“I will never forget Tonio. Or what he-”

“You loved him, then,” Cruz had said, his voice harsh.

“I did,” she admitted. “More than my life,” she finished in a whisper. That was what had made his betrayal so painful. It did not occur to her that Cruz would not realize her love for his brother had died with Tonio.

She had watched Cruz’s lips flatten to a thin line, watched him frown as he came to his decision.

“Very well. I will take the child. But he must have a name.”

“You may call him whatever you wish,” she said, in a rush to have it all done and over.

“My brother’s son must have his name.”

“If you wish to call the child Antonio-”

“You misunderstand me,” Cruz interrupted brusquely. “My family possesses a noble Spanish heritage. My brother’s child must bear the Guerrero name.”

Sloan had not imagined how difficult it was going to be to go through with her plan. She swallowed over the painful lump in her throat and said, “If you wish to adopt the child as your own, I will agree.”

“That is not at all my intention,” Cruz said.

She felt the warm touch of Cruz’s fingers as he lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

His blue eyes were dark with some emotion she refused to acknowledge. He could not feel that way about her, not when she had been his brother’s woman. What she could not accept, she ignored.

His gaze held hers captive as he said, “My brother’s child will bear the Guerrero name because you will be my wife.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she blurted, pulling away from him.

“Not at all,” he countered. “If you wish me to take the child and raise it as my own, you will marry me.”

“That’s blackmail! I won’t do it.”

“Then find another solution to your problem, Señorita Sloan.”

The tall Spaniard had already turned on his booted heel before she found her voice. “Wait! There must be some way we can work this out.”

He pivoted back to her, determination etched in his features. “I have stated my condition for taking the child.”

His arrogance infuriated her, and she clasped her hands to keep herself from attacking him. She held her anger in check, knowing that however satisfying it would be to feel the skin of his cheek under her palm, it would be a useless gesture. She had nowhere else to turn.

“All right,” she said. “I will marry you.”

Before his triumphant smile had a chance to form fully, she continued, “But it will be a marriage in name only. I will not live with you.”

“That is hardly a proper marriage, señorita.”

She snorted. “I don’t care a worm’s worth about a proper marriage. I’m trying to find a way to compromise with you.”

“As my wife, you will live with me,” Cruz announced in a commanding voice.

“If I marry you, I’ll live at Three Oaks,” she retorted.

“Unfortunately, that would make it quite impossible for us to have the children I desire.”

Sloan flushed. “I won’t live with you.”

“Then we can come to no agreement.”

Once again, Sloan was forced to halt his departure. “Wait-”

“You agree, then?”

Sloan raked her mind for some way to put off the inevitable and came up with an idea. “I’ll agree to marry you. But I’ll live with you as your wife only after Alejandro Sanchez is brought to justice.”

Cruz grimaced in frustration. “My brother’s murderer may never be caught.”

“I know,” Sloan replied. “But that is my condition.” She said it with the same intractability he had used when he laid down his own demands.

“I agree to your suggestion,” Cruz said at last. “We will be married now, and I will take the child when it is born and raise it as my own. Ours will be a marriage in name only-until such time as Alejandro Sanchez shall be brought to justice.”

It was obvious to Sloan when she shook hands with Cruz to seal their bargain that he expected to find Alejandro within days. But her luck had held. Alejandro had remained elusive, and she had remained at Three Oaks.

Over the years, while Cruz had hunted diligently for the bandido, he had kept their bargain and raised her son as his own. Now, at long last, Cruz had found Alejandro. Now, at long last, the arrogant Spaniard would expect her to fulfill her part of their bargain.

For reasons she could never explain to him, Sloan knew she could not do it.

She jumped away from the adobe wall as Cruz’s voice startled her from her reverie.

“I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

“The law will avenge Tonio’s death,” she said.

“Only if Alejandro is still in jail when the time comes to hang him.”

A frisson of alarm skittered down Sloan’s spine. “You don’t seriously believe he can escape, do you? He’s tied hand and foot, and he’ll be guarded by Texas Rangers.”

“He is treacherous and cunning. He must be clever to have stayed free this long. And there are those who would help him escape.”