“Such as?”

“A man’s family, for one thing.”

As soon as she had spoken, she knew she had said something dreadfully wrong, for Luke’s eyes turned from gold to green and his full lips flattened into a thin line.

“What else?” he demanded.

“His ability to provide a home for his wife and their children.”

“Anything else?”

Tomasita licked her lips nervously before adding, “I… I suppose there are other things. I cannot think of them right now.” She couldn’t think because Luke’s whole body radiated anger.

“What about love? What about a man who would care for you?” Luke asked, his voice soft, his tone taunting.

“Love will come with time. And surely my husband will learn to care for me. I will be obedient-”

Luke’s cynical laugh cut her off. “Obedient. Yes, I’m sure you’d be that. If I ask something of you, Tomasita, will you obey me?”

“It… it would depend on what you asked,” she said, her voice a mere whisper. What had happened to the charming young man who had first greeted her?

Luke leaned toward her until she could feel his breath against her ear. His intense voice was low and husky and sent shivers down her spine. “Tell me what you want, Tomasita. That’s all. Just tell me what you want from the man you marry.”

“I… I…”

“Do you want a man who’ll make fire race in your veins?”

Tomasita held her breath as Luke’s lips caressed her temple, then followed the shell of her ear and trailed down to her neck. She shivered from feelings that were new and breathtakingly exciting. She closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly to offer her neck for further adoration.

His fingers thrust into her silky black hair and captured her head between his hands. “Look at me,” he commanded.

Tomasita raised her eyes to his face and found all the desire a woman could want blazing in his eyes. “What do you want, Tomasita?”

“Aiii! Señor! What are you doing? Take your hands off her. Pobrecita! Mi niña!”

Tomasita whirled to find Josefa barreling toward her on the run, her apron waving like a sheet on laundry day. Tomasita tried to step back from Luke, only belatedly realizing that he had kept his hold on her.

He pulled her into his arms and gave her a quick hard kiss. Then he whispered in her ear, “I’ll meet you on Saturday at dusk, by the river.” He treated her to another of his roguish grins before he lithely mounted his horse and escaped.

“You had better run away, señor,” Josefa shouted after him, her breath coming in outraged spurts. “You do not belong here. When Don Cruz hears what you have done-”

“That is enough, Josefa,” Tomasita said, attempting to calm the heavyset woman, whose face was streaming with sweat from her exertion. “No harm has been done. I see no reason to say anything of this to Don Cruz or Doña Lucia.”

“But that man-”

“Did nothing!”

“I saw him-”

“You saw him do what? Kiss me? And where will you tell Doña Lucia you were when this man kissed me? How will you explain that you were acting as my duenna yet could not forestall the señor?”

Tomasita saw the exact moment when it dawned on Josefa that if she told Don Cruz and Doña Lucia what Luke had done, she would also have to admit that she had let Tomasita out of her sight. She would be as much at fault as Tomasita, and they would likely both be punished.

“I will say nothing of this,” Josefa agreed at last. “But I will be watching you from now on, like the cat watches a mouse, waiting to pounce.”

Her tirade was interrupted by Cisco and Betsy, who had run up to show off a musketball they had found.

Tomasita’s mind was only half on their excited child-talk. The other half was on Luke Summers. His lips had caressed her temple, her ear, her throat. He had even kissed her on the mouth! And she had enjoyed it. Holy Mary, she had wanted more of it! What kind of woman was she to let him take such liberties?

But it had seemed so right at the moment. She touched her lips. They were still wet, and a little swollen. Did she dare try to sneak away to see him on Saturday, knowing that if he tried to kiss her again she would let him do it? How could she even think such a thing when she was betrothed to Don Cruz?

“Tomasita, do you like it?”

She looked down to see Cisco holding up the rusty musketball.

“Sí, we shall take this back to the hacienda with us. Your papa will be home soon, and he will surely want to see it.”

And if Cruz did not return before Saturday, what then? Tomasita closed her eyes and prayed to the Blessed Virgin to give her strength to resist the awful temptation that had been laid in her path.

SLOAN SENSED SOMEONE IN HER BEDROOM WITH her and rolled over in the large feather bed. As she slowly sat up she saw Rip standing at the foot of her bed, silhouetted against the last rays of the sun.

She had only meant to rest for a moment, but she must have fallen asleep. She realized that the bed was no place from which to conduct the arguments she had formulated, but Rip didn’t give her a chance to get up before he began speaking.

“Well, well, well. The prodigal daughter has returned.”

Sloan bristled at his smug tone. She rose from the bed and stood beside it, tucking her gingham shirt into her trousers.

“It’s about time someone showed some common sense around here,” he said.

She leaned down and tugged on a Wellington, then had to search before she found the other boot under the bed. While she was pulling it on she asked, “Where’s Luke?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

Sloan’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “That’s a new tune you’re singing. I must say I like the sound of it, though.”

Rip chuckled. “Don’t get your hopes up. He’ll be back.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“That boy hates my guts.” Rip took his time getting to the ladder-back chair in the corner of Sloan’s room. After he had settled himself in it, he leaned his hands on the handle of his cane and said, “Don’t look so surprised. Surely you guessed everything wasn’t honey and roses between me and my son.”

“No. No, I hadn’t… exactly.” Sloan hopped up on the foot of the bed and let her heels dangle over the bedstead. “Why does he hate you?”

“It’s a long story, and not a very pleasant one. I’d as soon not repeat it. Suffice it to say, there are things that happened that I’m not proud of. Things that hurt Luke’s mother.”

“Is there anything you can do to mend fences?”

“No. Luke’s mother Charity died a few years ago.”

A look of such great longing, mixed with pain, came across Rip’s face that Sloan nearly got up to go to him. In another instant, the strained look was gone and he was in control again.

“There’s nothing I can do to help her now,” he said with a sigh of regret. “And Luke isn’t going to let me forget it.”

“But there’s something you can do to help him. Is that it?” Sloan said. “Is that why you want to give him Three Oaks?”

“Something like that,” Rip admitted. “It isn’t that I wouldn’t have wanted to help him anyway. After all, he is my son.”

“How do you know he’s actually your son?”

To her surprise Rip grinned. “Charity made sure he knew about my birthmark. Luke has the same one.”

“I never knew-”

“It isn’t in a place that shows.”

Sloan had never thought of her father as an ordinary person with ordinary flaws. He had always been someone larger than life, the bedrock of Three Oaks, the stubborn, opinionated head of the household.

Now she realized he was only a man, one who had made a terrible mistake once upon a time. It was a mistake he clearly regretted and one that would likely haunt him the rest of his life.

It was also a mistake for which she was being forced to pay the consequences.

Sloan scooted off the bed and walked the few steps necessary to lay a hand on Rip’s shoulder, offering the comfort she hadn’t dared to offer before.