Victoria bit her lower lip to stop its trembling, a her grandmother watched her intently. "Clarissa, says he does not love the woman he is to marry.'
"Clarissa could not possibly know that. Edward is as capable of loving a woman as any other man maybe even more so."
"You think he loves her?"
"I think the woman who wins Edward's heart will know great love."
Victoria felt as though her heart had just broken into a million pieces. She felt a need to be alone. She was afraid she would break down completely if she did not get away quickly. She brushed past her grandmother and ran up the stairs to her bedroom.
Alice Anderson watched her with a troubled frown on her face. Later, as she passed Victoria's bedroom, she heard her crying broken-heartedly. She paused at the door, wondering if she should go in and comfort her. No, she would not interfere. Unless Victoria came to her for comfort and advice, there was nothing she could do. She wondered why young people suffered so needlessly. Maybe insight only came with age. Oh, my dearest child, she thought, if I told you Edward loved you, you would never believe me. She sighed deeply. Wisdom and age could both be a burden sometimes.
Late that afternoon, Victoria decided to go for a ride on Rebel. The house was so hot, she thought if she could ride down by the river it might be cooler there. She would take her sketching pad. Maybe she could find some relief for her aching heart and lose herself for a while in her drawing.
She was surprised when her grandmother agreed that it would do her no harm to ride Rebel. She quickly dressed in her trousers, grabbed her sketchpad, and rode off.
It felt wonderful to be on Rebel's back again. She had not ridden him since the day of her accident. She sensed that her black stallion was enjoying himself also. He pranced about and tossed his shiny mane.
Victoria found her favorite spot. It was a small embankment that rose from the Wolf River. There was a big mesquite tree that offered her some protection from the scorching sun. She leaned back against the tree trunk, her sketchpad on her knee. A lone hawk flew overhead and she watched it until it was out of sight. Rebel grazed nearby, dragging his reins along as he ate the green grass that grew along the riverbank.
The river was very low and muddy. Victoria wished that she had brought something to drink with her. When would she learn not to ride out in Texas without a canteen of water? She heard the sound of hoof beats in the distance and regretted that her solitude was about to be interrupted.
The intruder followed the river. Victoria hoped whoever it was would not discover her presence. She watched as the rider rounded the small bend and drew in her breath when she recognized Edward Hanover. Her pulse raced wildly. Maybe he had not spotted her. She knew that was not the case, however, when Edward drew even with her, checked his horse, and looked up at her. He removed his wide-brimmed black hat, wiped his forehead on his sleeve, and moved forward in the saddle. "Sure it hot today."
"Yes, it is, Mr. Hanover." Victoria returned to her sketching, hoping he would ride away. She heard his spurs jingle; the leather of his saddle creaked, and she knew he had dismounted. Victoria looked up. Edward lifted his canteen from his saddlehorn, placed his hat on his saddle, and walked leisurely up the embankment toward her.
She had never seen him look so handsome. He wore a pale-blue shirt; light fawn-colored leather Mexican chaps hugged his long, lean legs. Why was it when he was near, she felt so alive, so aware of his every move?
He stopped in front of her, uncapped his canteen, and offered it to her. Victoria took the canteen from him and took a long drink. "Thank you," she said, handing it back to him. "I was wishing for a drink."
Edward lifted the canteen to his own lips and drank deeply. "You seem to have found the ideal spot. It is cooler here."
"Why are you riding in this heat?" Victoria asked.
"Such is the life of a vaquero. I was rounding up strays," he told her, stretching out beside her. He removed his leather gloves and laid them down on the grass beside him. "You are well enough to be on horseback?"
Victoria smiled. "I am as good as new. How is your hand?"
"As good as new."
"May I see it?"
Edward brushed her question aside. "It is healed."
"All the same, I would like to see it."
Edward offered her his hand. She took it and felt her blood stir as it always did when she came in contact with him. His hand was bronzed from the sun. His fingers were long and sensitive. She could feel the strength in them. She turned his hand over, and saw the angry red scar that ran the length of his palm. Victoria frowned at him. "This was much worse than I thought. It must have been very painful." She felt his fingers close about her hand.
"You are sure you are feeling well?" he asked.
"Yes, of course."
Edward released her hand. "May I see what you are drawing?"
"No," she said closing the pages quickly. "It is very amateurish. I do it for my own pleasure and it would embarrass me for you to see it. I was just noticing how low and muddy the river is," Victoria said, changing the subject. "What will happen if it does not rain soon?"
"It could be very bad for the small ranchers," he told her.
"My grandmother is already beginning to feel the effects," Victoria said, beginning to relax.
Edward nodded. "I can well imagine."
"In Savannah, we did not have the problem of a water shortage. In fact, it was often the opposite. If it rained too often, it could destroy a cotton crop."
"You still miss your home?"
"I will always want to return," Victoria said wistfully.
"There are those of us who hope you will come to think of Texas as your home." Edward's voice was deep. His face was expressionless.
"It may very well be that I will have to remain here," Victoria told him. She had almost forgotten for the moment that he was about to be married. The pain of remembering was more than she could bear. "I must be going," she said, rising to her feet. Victoria looked down at Edward, and was confused when she saw a scowl on his handsome face.
"Why do you insist on parading around in those ridiculous trousers?" he asked angrily. His eyes traveled over her slim body.
"What business is it of yours?" she said, her temper coming to her aid. "And I was not parading. If you will recall, I was alone until you came."
Edward was on his feet in one catlike motion and towered over her. "What can Mammaw be thinking to let you dress in such a way?"
"I am sorry if you do not like it," she stormed, "but it is really not your concern."
Edward grabbed her, his fingers biting into her shoulders, causing her to drop her sketching pad. "I did not say that I did not like it, but do you think I like other men seeing you as you look now?" His features were stormy. A muscle twitched in his jaw.
Victoria was confused. How complex this man was. His moods changed so quickly. She had seen him when he was kind and gentle, and light and teasing; but this mood, his anger, she did not understand. "Why are you saying these things to me, Mr. Hanover?"
"I think you know, Victoria." His hands spanned her waist as he drew her toward him.
"Please let me go. You are frightening me."
"I have told you before, you need not be frightened of me. It is I who am in the greater danger. I wonder if your lips are as intoxicating as I remember," he whispered.
She could feel his breath on her lips, and knew he was going to kiss her. She struggled with all her might, but it was useless. His arms were like two iron bands holding her captive.
His lips touched hers lightly as he teased her mouth with a devastating effect, until she no longer wanted to be free.
"You are driving me out of my mind, Victoria." His lips came down on hers roughly, as he crushed her to him.
She was carried away on a whirlwind, unable to think or reason. Her arms moved about his neck, trying to bring him closer to her.
I love you, I love you, she thought, wishing she could tell Edward of her feelings.
; Edward raised his head and stared at her. His breathing was shallow, and desire burned like a fire within his body.
"Do you have any idea what you are doing to me, Victoria? It would take very little to make me lose control completely. You have me running after you like a lovesick youth. Do you like to watch me suffer?"
She shook her head, unable to speak.
His mouth recaptured hers and she felt herself being lifted into his arms. He laid her down gently on the grass and lay down beside her. She felt his hands glide slowly down her back, to her waist, then he pulled her against him. Victoria knew she should stop him, but she did not want to. She seemed to melt into his body. Victoria could feel his strong-muscled body pressed against her soft curves. She trembled as his hands moved caressingly over her hips, pressing her even closer to him.
"You want this as much as I do," he said in a passionate voice. "You know you do."
Edward rolled her over to her back and covered her body with his. "Let me love you, Victoria." His voice was almost pleading with her.
"No, please, Edward!"
Edward rolled off of her; she felt his hand move over her stomach, then slide slowly upward. She gasped as his hand moved gently over her breast.
Victoria looked at him, her eyes filled with wonder and desire. How was it possible to feel such love, and longing? She wanted to abandon herself to the delightful feelings, but a voice deep inside her warned her of the danger.
Edward removed his hand and crushed her in his arms. "God help me, I must be half-mad. With any other woman, I would never hesitate, but when you look at me with those beautiful blue eyes so trustingly . . ." He shoved her away from him and rose to his feet.
Victoria was burning with shame and anger. She got slowly to her feet. She was not sure her shaky legs would support her weight.
Edward smiled at her discomfort. "I let you go, Victoria, because I do not want it to be like this between us. When I make you mine, the circumstances will be very different."
Anger leaped into Victoria's eyes. She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. "I will never allow you to come near me again, Mr. Hanover."
He laughed heartily. "There you are mistaken, Victoria. The day will come when I shall most certainly partake of your desirable body."
"Never!"
"Oh, yes, one day you will be mine. You know it, and I know it." He touched her lips with his finger. "Can you deny it?"
She felt herself weakening, and pushed his hand away angrily. Then she took a deep breath, and remembered what Clarissa had told her only a few hours ago. "Save your charm for one of the many women who welcome them. I can assure you I am not interested, Mr. Hanover."
Edward's eyes flashed dangerously. "Which am I, Victoria—Edward, or Mr. Hanover? You change your mind so often you have me thoroughly confused."
"Whatever your name is, you are no gentleman," she retorted.
His hand slid around her neck, bringing her face close to his. "You are wrong, darling. I could be a very gentle man—with you."
Victoria felt as though the ground shook beneath her. She knew she was in danger of succumbing to his charm once more. "Take your hands off me," she whispered with considerable effort.
He gave her a look of exasperation. "I have never met a woman as elusive as you are. I am not sure how to deal with you."
She pulled away from him, wanting to put some distance between them. "What you mean is you never met a woman who said no to you before."
"No woman until you," he corrected.
"Is your ego wounded, Mr. Hanover?"
He grinned down at her. "A bit trampled on, but not wounded. You enjoyed it as much as I did. Do you think I do not know that, Victoria?"
She felt confused. She could not deny that she had indeed liked his caresses and the feel of his lips on hers. "You are very apt at love-making, Mr. Hanover. I will not deny that, but I am warning you: never touch me again. I am constantly amazed at the little respect you have for me."
The smile left his handsome face to be replaced by a scowl.
"Blame yourself, Victoria. Maybe now you will think before riding about the countryside dressed as you are. Perhaps if someone other than myself had come upon you, you would not have gotten off with just a kiss."
"You are hateful!" she stormed. "I do not like you very well!"
Edward raised his eyebrows. "You liked me well enough a moment ago."
Victoria tossed her head. "Your future wife has my sympathies."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Mrs. Patterson told me that you are to be married."
"That is correct," Edward told her, a smile playing on his lips.
"Pity you cannot be satisfied with just one woman, Mr. Hanover."
He threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, Victoria, you are incredible. Are you perhaps jealous?"
"Do not flatter yourself, Mr. Hanover. Your marital status does not concern me in the least. Now, if you will excuse me, I will bid you a good day."
She walked away from him with as much dignity as she could manage. He waited until he heard her ride away. He walked over to the spot where he had left his gloves and canteen. When he picked them up, he saw Victoria's sketchpad lying where she had dropped it. Edward picked it up and thumbed through the pages.
She was very good, he thought. There were a few landscapes, a sketch of Rebel, and one of Old Ned. He flipped over the last page and saw a sketch he had no trouble recognizing as his own likeness. He smiled to himself and tucked the sketching pad under his arm.
That night the much-needed rain came. It came down in great torrents, seeping into the cracks in the earth, causing an end to the drought, washing the land clean with its precious moisture. But it did not bring any comfort to Victoria as she tossed on her bed, haunted by the feelings Edward had unleashed in her body, feelings she did not understand or welcome. She wished with all her heart that Edward would return her love, but she knew that was impossible.
What about the woman Edward was to marry? Today was proof that he could not love her. After he was married would he continue to pursue other women? So many questions flooded her mind. She thought of Paul. She had promised to marry him. Was it fair to Paul to marry him feeling the way she did about Edward. What if Paul were dead? No, she would feel it if he were.
She wished with all her heart that he would come for her. Maybe then she would be free of this love she felt for Edward.
Paul, come soon. Please come soon, she prayed.
15
September saw the rivers and creeks full to their banks. The ranchers were counting their blessings. Mother nature had been generous with her bounty; it rained almost every afternoon. Old Ned, who was always the pessimist, predicted floods and a harsh winter.
Victoria and her grandmother had spent the last three days preserving vegetables. Victoria stood back and observed with satisfaction the many jars that lined the pantry shelves. She felt such a sense of accomplishment. Her grandmother placed the last of the corn on the top shelf of the pantry, and turned to her. "That is done, Victoria; let us have something cool to drink."
Victoria followed her grandmother into the kitchen, and poured them each a glass of tea. Then she sat down at the table across from her grandmother.
"You are quiet, child; you are troubled about something?"
"No, quite the contrary, Grandmother. I was just thinking how useless my education has been. I have learned more about doing something useful from you, than in all the years spent at Mrs. De Leon's finishing school."
Her grandmother patted her hand. "Knowledge is never wasted, child. Your father had you prepared for the kind of life he thought you would lead. And who knows, some day you may be able to return home and to your Paul. Though I would hate to lose you, I want your happiness above all things."
"Grandmother, I love being with you, but I am so confused. I do not know where my life is going. Once it was all laid out for me. I just expected that Paul and I would marry and settle down
and raise a family." Her voice trailed off. "Why do you think I have not heard from Paul? Perhaps he did not return."
"Just be patient awhile longer," Victoria's grandmother told her.
Dr. Dan crossed the dusty street to his office. He was exhausted. There had been seven cases of measles in the last week. If it continued, there would be an epidemic before the month was out. He was going to need help; maybe a nurse. He remembered Clarissa's offer of help. Two months ago, he would have laughed at her offer to assist him, but she had changed, become more mature. Dan wondered why he had never thought of her other than as a pretty girl only interested in going to parties and having a good time.
Dan shifted his black bag to his other hand. He noticed that he had a visitor. Edward's horse was tied to the hitching post in front of his office. Dan found his friend inside waiting impatiently.
"The sign on the door said you would return in half an hour," Edward told him irritably. "I have waited for almost an hour."
"No one pays the slightest attention to that," Dan told him, removing the sign, and placing it on a shelf. "What are you doing in town, Edward?"
"How can you work in all this disarray?" Edward asked, ignoring Dan's question. "It would drive me to distraction."
Dan looked about him. The shelves were full of bottles of pills and liquids. His desk was cluttered with papers. The bookshelves containing his medical journals were full to overflowing. Dan shrugged his shoulders. "Not all of us are as meticulous as you are, Edward." He shifted some papers and set his black bag on his desk. "Are you in town on business?"
"No, as it happens, I came to see you. It has been some time since we have had a chance to talk. I thought I might buy you a steak dinner over at the hotel and we could just shoot the breeze."
"Wish I could, Edward, but the Ellis girl jumped out of a tree and landed on some broken glass. I cannot seem to get her fever down."
"Don't you ever stop, Dan? You look dead on your feet."
"Oh, I have my slow days," Dan told him lightly.
The door opened and both men turned to see a stranger walk in. He was tall, as tall as Edward, with blond hair and sideburns. His eyes were blue. His face was handsome and tanned from the sun. His manner of dress seemed out of place for a small Texas town. He wore light-gray trousers and a gray cutaway coat that revealed a white shirt with ruffles down the front. His blue eyes were warm and friendly. He spoke in a cultured Southern drawl:
Ecstasy's Promise (Historical Romance) Page 18
