Texas Woman

by Joan Johnston

  She captured him with her thighs and arched upward, urging him deeper inside, taking the fullness of him and demanding more.

  He rolled them both over so she was on top of him and growled “You are mine, Cebellina.”

  She looked down into his blue eyes, dark with avidity, at his nostrils flared to bring air to his heaving chest, at his raven black curls, wild where her hands had thrust through them. She smiled. “And you are mine.”

  The sense of power was immense. She lifted herself nearly off his shaft and then, ever so slowly, settled back down again. She watched his teeth clench as the air hissed from his chest.

  “You are playing with fire, Cebellina,” he warned.

  “I know.” She grinned, fully aware of the danger in taunting him. He grasped her thighs in an attempt to keep her down on him. She allowed him his small victory but rocked her hips against his, increasing the friction until they were both aflame with pleasure. One of his hands left her hip and slipped between them, fanning the flames.

  She was lost in her own deep well of pleasure when he at last turned her once again so she was beneath him. He tilted her hips and thrust before withdrawing, teasing, taunting, and thrusting again.

  She was beyond being rational. She wanted. She needed. She demanded.

  And he gave… and took.

  Sloan felt the rising crest of pleasure and at the last instant fought against being overwhelmed by it. But it was too late. She cried out as her body shuddered against his, and heard his cry of triumph as their bodies and souls became one.

  Gradually, she became aware of his heavy weight on top of her, of their chests heaving with equal effort to bring air to tortured lungs, and of the musky smell of their sex.

  Cruz started to move off her, and she tightened her arms around his sweat-slick body. “Don’t go yet. Stay where you are.”

  “I am too heavy.”

  “It feels good.”

  And so he stayed with her.

  She closed her eyes, feeling for the first time truly content. This was what she needed. This was what she wanted. Dear God, she loved this man. Despite everything, she loved him.

  And she would stick by him, no matter what. If that was unwise, if that was making the same mistake twice in one lifetime, so be it. She was committed. She would follow him through fire, race with him through hell, and never look back.

  It was dark when Sloan awoke, and Cruz was gone. It took her a few moments to realize it was still daytime. A storm had darkened the sky until it was almost black. For a moment she feared another tornado, but realized the air didn’t feel the same-it was less oppressive.

  She heard the limbs of the live oaks slapping against the house as the rising wind whipped through them. Then came the slight whistling sound the wind made as it forced its way through the nooks and crannies of the house.

  The eerie whisper of the wind had always made her shiver, even when it wasn’t cold. She smiled as she felt herself shiver right on cue. She reached out and pulled the covers up more snugly over her shoulders.

  The sudden spring storms were wild and fierce in Texas. This wasn’t anything she hadn’t experienced dozens of times before. In the past, seeing the sky darken so forbiddingly had always left her with a feeling of high anticipation for the powerful raging of the elements. After the tornado she had just experienced, she had a new respect for its power.

  Sloan shivered again and wished Cruz were still in bed with her and that she could turn and snuggle into his strong arms for comfort. There had been little opportunity in her life to seek comfort outside herself. She had always taken care of herself, had even wanted it that way. Now she wanted to reach out and grasp the hand Cruz had outstretched to her.

  There were muffled sounds of movement downstairs, and Sloan realized that if she wanted to touch Cruz, wanted to hold him, she only had to seek him out. She quickly rose and washed and dressed herself.

  She passed Tomasita’s room on the way downstairs, but the young woman wasn’t inside. Her father’s door was still closed so she made the slight detour to the end of the hall to check on him again.

  She knocked on his door and heard a gruff, “Come in.” She opened the door and found Rip still abed. “How are you?”

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  “Dolorosa was destroyed by a tornado this afternoon. It made sense for us to come here.”

  “Well, of course, you should all come here. Did everybody come through okay?”

  “Almost everybody. Cruz’s mother was killed.”

  “That’s too bad,” Rip said.

  “I thought you’d be heading downstairs for supper tonight,” Sloan said, unwilling to speak further of the tragedy.

  “That was my plan, but I’m still feeling poorly, so I decided to eat up here.”

  Sloan walked over and stood beside the bed. He looked tired, his gray eyes dull, without the sparkle that had once lit them. He coughed, and Sloan noticed it hurt him to breathe. “Are you sure you don’t want me to send for a doctor?”

  “Won’t hear of it. Now, get on downstairs and take care of our company.”

  Sloan left him with a feeling of foreboding. She had never known Rip to stay in bed if he could be out of it. Even the time a mule had stepped on his foot and broken it, he hadn’t been down long.

  If he wasn’t up tomorrow, she would arrange for a doctor to come and see him whether he wanted one or not. She determined not to bring up the subject of Three Oaks until he was in fine enough fettle to fight back.

  Sloan descended the staircase slowly, not sure what she would find below. She followed the voices to the dining room, located beyond the parlor at the back of the house. There she found Angelique holding court at the supper table like a queen with three very attentive male subjects, and one very irritated lady-in-waiting.

  When Cruz saw Sloan, he rose from the table and came to greet her. He took her in his arms and whispered in her ear, “I did not want to wake you. I thought you would need your rest for later tonight.”

  Sloan blushed at the implication of his words, but they made her feel warm inside. After she filled her plate from the array of dishes set out on the sideboard, she sat down in the chair Cruz had saved for her next to him. It didn’t take long to realize she had arrived just in time to see the sparks fly.

  Apparently, after having no success with Cruz, Angelique had turned her attentions to Luke. Sloan saw that Tomasita was highly agitated by the situation. It was equally obvious that the young woman could hardly act jealous of Luke without revealing to Cruz that she and the Ranger knew more about each other than their names.

  Luke wasn’t helping matters. He was paying close attention to Angelique, leaning toward her and hanging on every word.

  “Sounds like you had a pretty good time, Angel,” Luke said. “Wish I’d been there.”

  “I wish you had been there, too,” Angelique said, laying her hand on Luke’s arm. “I know you would have been able to help me with my gown.”

  “I’m sure I’d have figured out something,” Luke said with a grin.

  Perhaps if Sloan had gotten downstairs a few minutes sooner, she could have steered the conversation away from danger, but it was too late now to do anything but watch helplessly as Tomasita rose from her seat, picked up her glass of wine, and dumped it on Luke’s head.

  He bolted out of his chair, shouting, “What the hell did you do that for?”

  “You know why I did it,” she shouted back. “Cabron! Bribon! I love you, you insufferable idiot! I cannot stand to watch that blond bruja bat her eyes at you anymore.”

  She turned and raced out of the room and up the stairs, leaving Luke standing stunned behind her.

  “Aren’t you going after her?” Sloan demanded.

  Luke wiped his face with his napkin and threw it down on the table. “You’re damn right I am!”

  He sprinted after Tomasita, and Sloan had to grab Cruz’s arm to keep him from following him.

  “I c
annot leave them alone,” Cruz said.

  “He won’t hurt her,” Sloan replied. “She’s carrying his child.”

  She heard Angelique’s gasp and watched as Cruz’s face darkened with anger.

  “How could he dare to dishonor her? How could she dare to act the whore for him?”

  Sloan’s face lost all color as the greater implications of Cruz’s tirade became clear. Any woman who bedded a man without benefit of marriage was a whore. By virtue of her actions with his brother, she must also be a whore.

  Cruz caught sight of Sloan’s shocked face and said “Cebellina, I did not mean-”

  “Excuse me. I think I’ll go take a walk.”

  Cruz quickly followed her, leaving a stunned Angelique alone at the table.

  Cruz caught Sloan in the central hallway and grasped her by the arms to keep her from escaping. “You will listen-”

  “There is no need to explain, Cruz,” she said. “You only said what you honestly believe.”

  “I spoke in anger,” he said. “And I spoke in haste. I never meant to suggest that your relationship with Tonio was the same thing as-”

  “But it was. Exactly the same. If Tomasita is a whore, then so am I.”

  Cruz flushed. He met Sloan’s eyes, his gaze serious and steady. “I do not care. It does not matter. I have only one name I want to call you, and that is wife. I love you.”

  Her love for him was still a fragile thing. Should she take the chance that he might change his mind? Should she take the chance that someday, in a fit of anger, he might call up the past in equally ugly words and put it between them?

  They were distracted by a shout and the sound of Tomasita racing down the stairs with Luke running full tilt behind her.

  Sloan and Cruz turned in time to see Tomasita lose her footing and tumble down the last few steps. When she reached the oak floor at the bottom, she lay still, her right foot twisted at an odd angle.

  Everyone stood frozen for a moment, the only sound Luke’s harsh, “Oh God, no!”

  Then they were all running to reach her. Luke got there first and gently cradled her face in his hands. “Tomasita?”

  Her eyes fluttered open and she moaned. “The baby…” Her hands grasped her womb and she curled into herself.

  Sloan quickly checked Tomasita’s ankle for broken bones. Discovering none, she said to Luke, “Nothing’s broken, but her ankle is badly sprained. I… I don’t know about the baby. Take her upstairs and I’ll send for the doctor.”

  “Do not touch me,” Tomasita hissed at Luke.

  He ignored her, lifting her into his arms and moving as quickly as he could without harming her further.

  Sloan sent Stephen for the doctor, and then followed Luke upstairs to Tomasita’s room.

  “You should leave, Luke, so I can undress her for the doctor,” Sloan said.

  “I’ll do it.”

  “Luke, she doesn’t want-”

  “I’ll do it!”

  Sloan stepped back from the bed and watched as he gently began undressing Tomasita.

  Tomasita watched Luke with pain-filled eyes, but she said nothing as he bared her body to his suffering gaze. Her teeth bit into her lower lip as she held her womb tight against the twinges she felt inside.

  “I’m sorry,” Luke said, his voice broken.

  Tomasita did not answer, just turned her face away from him.

  Luke found a chambray wrapper in a nearby chest and slipped it over Tomasita’s head.

  “The doctor will be a while coming,” Sloan said. She met Luke’s eyes and saw the agony there. If she’d had any doubts that he loved Tomasita, they were answered.

  “Isn’t there something I can do?” he pleaded.

  “Hold her. Love her,” Sloan said softly.

  Luke sat beside Tomasita and took her unresisting hand in his. “Tomasita, I’m sorry. Please say you forgive me. Say you’ll marry me.”

  Sloan held her breath to see how Tomasita would respond to Luke’s plea. When she turned to face Luke, she only shook her head sadly.

  “You do not have to marry me, Luke. Our baby… My baby…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. “Go away. Please, go away. I cannot bear to look at you.”

  Luke avoided Sloan’s eyes as he stood up and left the room.

  As soon as he was gone, Tomasita burst into tears.

  Sloan sat down beside the young woman and awkwardly patted her shoulder. She couldn’t bring herself to say, “Everything will be all right,” because this was all wrong. So very wrong.

  She had been so sure that Luke and Tomasita belonged together. So what had thwarted their happily-ever-after ending?

  Sloan’s eyes widened in shock as she identified the thieves that had robbed Luke and Tomasita of their happiness. She recognized them because she knew them so intimately: the fear of loving, the fear of losing, and an unwillingness to trust.

  Chapter 20

  WHEN THE DOCTOR FINALLY ARRIVED, SLOAN kept vigil with him until they were certain the baby was all right and there was no danger Tomasita would miscarry.

  Luke asked to see Tomasita again, but was refused with the explanation that Tomasita was very tired and anything that might upset her, including a visit from him, wasn’t good for her right now.

  When the worst of the danger was past, Sloan walked downstairs to the parlor and found Luke and Cruz sitting on opposite sides of the room. She could have cut the tension in the room with a knife.

  Cruz clenched a burning cheroot between his bared teeth. Luke gripped a glass of Rip’s Irish whiskey in his white-knuckled hands. It looked as though they had been fighting. A vivid bruise marred Luke’s cheekbone, and Cruz had a cut lip.

  “Tomasita and the baby are going to be fine,” she announced from the doorway.

  “Thank God.” Luke bowed his head over his hands, which clutched the whiskey glass beneath his widespread knees.

  She walked over to Cruz and touched his lip where it bled. He flinched away. “What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Are you coming to bed now?”

  “Not right away. Luke and I have some more talking to do.”

  “Are you sure it’s talking and not fighting you have in mind?” Sloan demanded, her voice sharp. “It’s not going to help Tomasita if the two of you kill each other.”

  Cruz sighed. “You are right. Come here, Cebellina. I need to feel you in my arms.”

  Sloan went to him and allowed herself to be pulled down onto his lap and comforted. He whispered in her ear, “I promise Luke’s handsome face will look as good tomorrow as it does tonight. Go to bed, querida. I will join you when I can.”

  Sloan kissed him on the mouth gently in deference to his split lip. “Good night, Cruz. Good night, Luke.”

  She left the parlor and started up the stairs, but changed her mind and silently walked back down and out the front door. A lot had happened in the past few weeks, and she needed to be alone to think.

  Sloan had always considered herself brave, but she thought maybe she was about to make the most courageous decision of her life. The decision not only to love Cruz, but to trust his love to be constant no matter what challenges they faced over the years to come.

  Once outside, she headed for the stables, where she lit a lantern and began saddling a horse.

  “Who’s that?”

  Sloan realized she must have woken August, who had a room at the back of the stable. “It’s me, Sloan.”

  “Miz Sloan? What you be doin’ up this time o’ the night?”

  “It won’t be long before the sun is up. I thought I’d take a ride. I’ll be back before morning light.”

  “Weather don’t look so good.”

  “At least the rain is done. There’s nothing left of the storm but a little wind.”

  “That Texas wind ain’t nothin’. It’s somethin’, all right. You be careful.”

  Sloan led her horse outside and held tight to the reins when it skittered nervously away from a leaf blowing in t
he wind. “Hold still, you critter,” she said. She stepped into the saddle and kicked her mount into an easy lope. There were traces of light, enough to create shadows that made her horse hard to handle.

  “Easy, boy,” she murmured. “Easy. Nothing but shadows, boy. Nothing to be afraid of.”

  Just like her fears. Only shadows. Nothing to be afraid of. She felt stronger, surer of her choice. There were no guarantees. You took what life gave you and you made the best of it. And life with Cruz could be the very best. She knew it.

  Sloan had kept her horse at a lope for half an hour when she saw a campfire in the distance. She was curious because the fire was so close to the house. Anyone crossing Three Oaks could have asked for, and received, the hospitality of the house. Whoever it was must have spent a hard night between the wind and the rain. She kicked her horse, thinking the least she could do was offer the travelers a hot breakfast.

  It was also possible that whoever sat by that campfire hadn’t sought shelter at the house because he had known he wouldn’t be welcome. And so, before Sloan got much closer, she stopped to check that the twin Patterson Colts in her saddle holsters were loaded and angled her horse around so she approached the camp from behind.

  Sloan could hardly believe her eyes when she saw the rotund figure sitting on a rock before the campfire. The Englishman! He must have planned a rendezvous with Cruz.

  She had already turned her horse to flee when someone grabbed the reins and pulled her down out of the saddle. Her scream was cut off by a rough, hard hand across her mouth.

  “The effort is wasted, chiquita,” Alejandro said. “There is no one to hear you but me.”

  Cruz stared unseeing into the scattered coals in the fireplace. He had finally given Luke permission to court Tomasita, but not before he had vented his anger at the Ranger. Luke had left a few moments ago to sit at Tomasita’s bedside. It was nearly dawn and long past time he joined his wife in bed.

  Moments later, Cruz frowned as he stared at a bed that hadn’t been slept in. He turned and walked down the hall to Tomasita’s room, knocked, and when Luke answered the door, asked, “Is Sloan in there?”