Texas Woman

by Joan Johnston

“There’s nothing left of the hacienda but a pile of rubble. Cruz’s mother was killed, and Ana and Josepha.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Luke said.

  “We need a place to stay until the house can be rebuilt.” Sloan swallowed and said, “There wasn’t anywhere else to go.”

  Luke swore under his breath. “This is your home, Sloan. This is where you should have come.”

  At that moment Angelique LeFevre appeared from the parlor and joined Luke. The former chargé’s daughter was a petite, blue-eyed blonde whose golden hair was styled in lovely sausage curls that framed her face and bounced when she moved her head. She wore a long-sleeved lavender day dress of muslin de laine trimmed with purple ribbon.

  Angelique laid a proprietary hand on Luke’s arm and said, “Won’t you introduce me to your guests?”

  “They’re hardly guests, Angel,” Luke said. “You might remember Rip’s eldest daughter Sloan. I believe you met her four years ago, when you first came to Texas with your father.”

  “Yes, I believe I did.” Angelique smiled broadly. “How are you? This must be your son. You were expecting a child at the time I met you, as I recall. What an adorable little boy. What’s his name?”

  “Cisco.” Sloan stepped away so Angelique’s hand missed connecting with the curls on Cisco’s head.

  “The child’s father was…” Angelique tapped a slender finger against her chin, thinking.

  “Tonio was killed,” Sloan said bluntly. “I married his brother, Cruz.”

  “Ohhhh. Really?”

  Sloan’s lids shuttered her flashing eyes and her hands fisted in the folds of the blanket covering Cisco. If Angelique LeFevre said one more word about Tonio…

  “Uh… this is Refugia Adela Maria Tomasita Hidalgo,” Luke said, shifting Angelique’s fascinated attention from Sloan. “Tomasita is Señor Guerrero’s ward.”

  “How interesting.” Angelique eyed Sloan as she shook hands with Tomasita, and Sloan saw the speculation in the petite woman’s eyes.

  “Tomasita is betrothed to Don Ambrosio de Arocha. Their marriage was supposed to have taken place next week,” Sloan said. “But of course there will be a delay now because of the damage caused by the tornado at Dolorosa.”

  Sloan saw from the tension in Luke’s body and the way his eyes flew to Tomasita that he was surprised and disconcerted by this news. Thank goodness. She hoped he realized he was going to have to act quickly if he wanted Tomasita for himself.

  “You must be devastated by the delay,” Angelique said to Tomasita, eyeing her thickened waist speculatively. “Perhaps Luke and I might come to the wedding?”

  Sloan watched Tomasita stiffen at the way Angelique had invited herself to the wedding and also laid claim to Luke’s company.

  “I won’t be going to Tomasita’s wedding,” Luke said.

  Tomasita flushed, and Sloan wanted to grab Luke by the ears and shake him. Couldn’t he see the young Spanish woman was in love with him?

  Cruz arrived at the door to a welcome greeting from Luke. Cruz took Angelique’s hand and said, “I am charmed, señorita. You are every bit as lovely as I had heard you were.”

  Where had Cruz heard such a thing? Sloan wondered. She caught Angelique’s eye and flashed the message, This one’s mine! Only belatedly did she realize what she was admitting by making such a claim.

  “Where’s Rip?” Sloan asked.

  “He’s in bed,” Luke replied.

  Sloan felt a sudden tension in her shoulders. “It’s barely suppertime. What’s he doing in bed?”

  “He hasn’t been feeling well the past couple of days. He picked up a spring cold and can’t seem to shake it. You can check and see if he’s awake. It’s about the time he usually comes downstairs,” Luke said.

  Sloan was already halfway up the stairs when she said, “I think I will. I’ll just put Cisco down for a nap first in the crib in Cricket’s old bedroom.”

  Cruz watched Sloan go with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hoped Rip wasn’t seriously ill. Rip’s death would force to a head the issue of who was to inherit Three Oaks.

  Even if Rip willed the plantation to Luke, there was the distinct possibility Luke might deed it back to Sloan. If she ever got title to Three Oaks, she would have to make a choice.

  And Cruz still was not sure she would choose him.

  He turned to Luke and asked, “Is it only a cold that has Rip laid up?”

  Luke shrugged. “So far as I can tell. I’m damn sorry to hear what happened, Cruz. I’ll send word to Lion’s Dare and Golden Valley. I know Sloan’s family will want to do everything they can to help.”

  “Thanks, Luke. I appreciate the offer. When I turned the horses over to the man at the barn, he said Beaufort LeFevre is here.”

  “I wrote Sloan a week ago about it. Didn’t she give you the message?”

  Cruz frowned. “No. She did not.” He looked up the stairs. He would give Sloan a chance to get settled and then they were going to have a talk.

  “Would you like to meet my father?” Angelique asked. “I’ll be glad to take you to see him. He’s staying in the bachelors’ quarters out behind the main house.”

  Cruz smiled and extended his arm to Angelique, who placed her palm daintily upon it. “I would appreciate that.” He turned to Luke. “Will you see that Tomasita gets settled?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  With that assurance, and with another exchange of glances that said volumes and issued admonitions, Cruz turned with Angelique and walked out the front door.

  Luke and Tomasita were left alone. Luke gestured to a rocker bench along one wall of the central hallway. “You look tired. Would you like to sit down?”

  Tomasita laced her fingers together and gripped them hard in front of her. “I… No thank you.”

  They stood there awkwardly for another moment before Luke said, “Are you all right? You weren’t hurt by the tornado?”

  “No.” She looked up into his hazel eyes, but if he cared at all for her, his feelings were carefully hidden in their golden depths. She took a deep breath and said, “Your child and I are both fine.”

  Luke completely lost his composure. Tomasita watched a myriad of emotions pass through his eyes, beginning with elation and ending with anger, before he regained control.

  “I won’t ask if it’s mine. I guess there’s little doubt of that, as closely as Cruz has you watched.” His voice hardened as he asked, “Have you told the man you’re planning to marry that you’re carrying my child?”

  “I do not plan to marry Don Ambrosio.”

  “Sloan said-”

  “I am going back to Spain.”

  Luke felt as though he’d just been kicked in the gut. “You’re leaving Texas?”

  “As soon as I can. I am going back to live in the convent.”

  Luke grasped her arms in desperation. “You don’t belong in any damn convent!”

  “Where else can I go? No gentleman of class will have me now that I am… And I cannot impose on Don Cruz forever.”

  Luke frowned. “Does Cruz know about the baby?”

  “I have not told him yet. When I do, I am sure he will understand my decision.”

  Luke snorted. “Like hell. After he beats the pulp out of me, he’ll have us standing in front of a preacher so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

  In a small voice, Tomasita asked, “Would that be so bad?”

  Luke couldn’t meet her eyes. “Aw, hell.”

  “I guess it would,” she said, sounding defeated. She turned to go back out the front door. “I should not have come here.”

  Luke grabbed her arm and spun her back around. “Wait a minute. Where are you going?”

  Her eyes flashed with anger. “None of your business!”

  “I’m making it my business.”

  “Like you made the blond woman-Angel, I heard you call her-your business?” she hissed. “Do you think I have no pride? I saw the way you let that woman put her hands on you!
If you do not care enough to marry me, at least do not expect me to stay and watch you with your lover.”

  “Angel and I aren’t lovers,” he ground out, equally furious. “I might have bedded her once upon a time, but that’s all over and-”

  Tomasita’s palm whipped around and slapped Luke hard. “I do not want to hear any more! I suppose you will be describing me the same way to your next conquest.”

  Tomasita tried to pull herself from Luke’s grasp, but he held on and backed her up against the wall, holding her there with his body.

  “What the hell did you do that for? I just got through telling you Angel and I aren’t lovers-”

  “Anymore!” Tomasita interrupted. “Just like I am not your lover anymore.” She couldn’t stop the tears that started to spill. “I feel so…” She took a deep breath in an attempt to forestall the sob that sought release. “I feel so… dirty.”

  Tomasita couldn’t look at Luke. She felt his hand on her chin forcing her face up, but she kept her gaze on the floor.

  “Look at me, Tomasita.”

  “No.”

  “Then listen to me, mustang girl.”

  “Pretty words will not help now, Luke,” she said, her heart pounding painfully after hearing his endearment. “What is done is done.”

  “You don’t have to go back to Spain,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I’ll take care of you.”

  She allowed herself to hope. She lifted her gaze and met his eyes, that were now more green than gold. “You will marry me?”

  His eyes darkened. “No. I didn’t say that.”

  “I cannot accept less than that, Luke. Let me go.”

  “Goddammit, you can’t leave me!”

  “Why not? What are you offering me that has more honor than returning to the convent?”

  “I’m telling you I want you to stay with me. I’m telling you I need you.”

  Tomasita heard the agony in his voice. But what he was offering was not enough. “I could not bear the shame.”

  Sloan was halfway down the stairs when she saw that Luke had Tomasita backed up against the wall. “What’s going on?”

  “Stay out of this, Sloan,” Luke warned.

  Sloan continued down the stairs until she was standing across from Luke and Tomasita. “You can’t get what you want with force, Luke.”

  “How the hell do you know what I want?”

  “If you care for her, Luke, you’ll let her go.”

  Luke turned his attention back to Tomasita. “We aren’t done talking about this.” Then he stepped back, and she was free.

  “Come with me, Tomasita,” Sloan said. “I’ll get you settled in your room.”

  Tomasita didn’t look at Luke as she walked past him and followed Sloan upstairs.

  “Are you all right?” Sloan asked as she made Tomasita comfortable in Bay’s old bedroom.

  “I am fine. But I have my answer from Luke. I will tell Don Cruz tonight that I have decided to go back to Spain.”

  “Oh no you won’t,” Sloan said, taking Tomasita’s shoulders and giving her a shake. “This isn’t over yet. Not by a long shot. If you want Luke, you’re going to have to fight for him.”

  “How? He has said he does not want to marry me. He is furious-”

  “Of course he’s furious. He’s in love with you, and you’re forcing him to admit he cares for you.”

  “But what can I do?”

  Sloan put her arm around Tomasita and said, “The first thing you’re going to do is get some rest. Then just be sure you wear your prettiest smile to dinner, and leave everything else up to me.”

  Sloan took a quick look in on Rip but discovered he was sleeping. She told herself rest was the best remedy for a bad cold and left him undisturbed as she headed downstairs to find Cruz.

  When Sloan found out that Cruz had been shown to the bachelors’ quarters by Angelique LeFevre, she was ready to rip the other woman’s hair out by the roots. When she followed after Cruz, she wasn’t thinking of his connection to the British or the importance of keeping track of his conversations with Beaufort LeFevre. She was thinking of her husband in the clutches of that blond, curly-headed hussy Angelique. Especially when Cruz didn’t know yet that she had made up her mind to devote herself wholeheartedly to making their marriage work.

  Sloan stepped across the threshold of the bachelors’ quarters ready to do battle with Angelique, only to discover a full-fledged political discussion in progress between Cruz and Beaufort LeFevre. She was assailed by the familiar aroma of Cruz’s cheroot and the smell of a stronger, less pleasant cigar. As she stood in the doorway, all eyes turned to focus on her and the discussion ceased.

  “Why, hello, little lady,” Beaufort said in his charming Louisiana drawl. He rose and took her hand in his, making contact, pressing the flesh. “You look dearly familiar. Sloan… is that right?”

  “Yes, sir. Don’t let me interrupt you. I’ll just sit over here.”

  The parlor was intended to be cozy. With the four of them sitting there, it was almost crowded. She sat in the wing chair next to the one Beaufort occupied and eyed Cruz, who shared the tiny brocade-covered settee with Angelique. If looks could kill, Sloan would already have planted Angelique six feet under.

  “As I was saying,” Beaufort continued once he was settled again in his chair. “I’ve heard public opinion here in Texas is leaning toward annexation.”

  “Whether it is independence and the Republic or annexation and statehood, I think Texans just want the promise of peace with Mexico and an end to the uncertainty,” Cruz replied.

  “Well, it seems to me you can blame Sam Houston and Anson Jones for the uncertainty,” Beaufort said.

  “What do you mean?” Sloan asked.

  Cruz answered, “I think Beaufort is referring to the fact that Texas is negotiating both with Mexico for independence and the United States for annexation at the same time.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Angelique asked, her blue eyes wide and innocent.

  “Nothing’s wrong with it, my dear,” Beaufort said, “so long as the politicians choose the correct alternative in the end.”

  “Which is?” Sloan asked.

  “Why, annexation, of course,” Beaufort said with a smile.

  “This has all been very interesting,” Angelique said, “but I must admit I would rather take a pleasant walk along the river before the sun sets. Would you care to join me, Don Cruz?”

  “I must regretfully decline,” Cruz said. “I have only just arrived with my wife and my ward, and I need to be certain they are settled comfortably before I can do anything else.”

  Which left him open to accept an invitation later, Sloan thought dourly.

  “If you will excuse us, Beaufort, I will take my wife back to the house.”

  “Certainly, Don Cruz. I’ll look forward to talking more with you later.”

  “And I with you.”

  “I think I’ll walk back to the house with you,” Angelique said, “if you don’t mind.”

  Sloan noticed that this time Angelique didn’t give Cruz a chance to decline. She claimed Cruz’s arm the moment he stood up, and there was no way he could gracefully get out of the situation.

  When Cruz offered his other arm to Sloan, she wasn’t so stupid as to refuse it. But she wondered if he was making a comparison between the sweet-smelling, blue-eyed blonde, in her lavender muslin de laine dress, on his left arm, and his wife, with her dusty pants and shirt and flyaway hair, on his right.

  As soon as they entered the house, Sloan turned to Angelique and said, “I know you’ll excuse us. Cruz and I have some private business to discuss.” She grasped Cruz’s hand and started up the stairs to her old bedroom.

  Halfway up the stairs, Sloan turned and smiled smugly back over her shoulder at Angelique, who had been left tapping her toe at the foot of the stairs.

  “That was neatly done,” Cruz said as Sloan closed the door behind them in her bedroom.

  She pulled her
boots off and jumped onto her bed, lying back with her hands crossed behind her head. “I thought so,” she said with a smirk. She sat up, cross-legged. “That witch can find herself another man. You’re taken!”

  The smile on Cruz’s face as he crossed to Sloan gave ample evidence of his pleasure at her possessiveness.

  He pulled off his own boots and joined her on the bed. He playfully pushed her backward, untangling her crossed legs as he lay down beside her. “I like being taken by you,” he teased. “How would you like me? With or without clothes?”

  Sloan laughed. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

  “Crazy with love for you.” He had her vest off and his hands were busy unbuttoning her blouse.

  “Cruz, don’t. Everyone will know what we’re doing if we don’t go back downstairs soon.”

  “Is that not exactly what you wanted? For Angelique to know I belong to you?”

  She couldn’t deny there was a certain pleasure in that thought. But the feel of his mouth on her throat made it hard for her to think at all.

  He pulled off his shirt and her chemise and they were suddenly flesh to flesh. She arched her back and rubbed her breasts against the crisp black hair on his chest. Cruz grabbed her buttocks and pressed her into the cradle of his thighs.

  “Querida,” he murmured. “Alma de mi vida.”

  His mouth was hot on her, his tongue claiming the softness of her mouth in a rhythmic accompaniment to the dance of his hips. She parried his thrust with her tongue and claimed what was hers.

  His callused hands deftly unbuttoned her trousers, and he slipped his hand beneath her pantalettes, cupping the heart of her. She followed his lead and slipped her hand into the front of his trousers, cupping the heat of him. He was iron-hard, filling her hand, and she teased him mercilessly even as he returned the favor.

  His mouth set out on a journey over her face and shoulders, laving her skin, nipping, and then kissing the hurt. Meanwhile, his fingers spread her silken petals and slipped inside as she flowered for him.

  “I want you inside me,” she gasped, shoving his trousers down over his hips.

  He freed her from his loving grasp long enough to strip her as well, and when they were both naked, he pushed her gently back into the feathered mattress, spread her legs wider with his knees, and mounted her.