“You know you only have to ask, and anything I have is yours.”

Completely unnerved by her body’s tingling reaction to his touch and the husky sound of his voice, Sloan sought some way to break the growing spell between them. “Won’t you need to talk with Tomasita first?”

Cruz frowned. “Why should I want to speak of such things to Tomasita?”

She pulled her hands from his. “There’s no need for any more pretense, Cruz. Your mother told me.”

“Told you what?”

“That you’re betrothed to Tomasita. That you have been for several years.”

Cruz’s indrawn breath made Sloan feel as though the air had been sucked from her own lungs.

“Mamá speaks of her dreams as reality.”

“Did she dream your betrothal?”

Cruz sighed deeply. “That much is true. When your sister Cricket ran away to marry Creed, my father was furious. He still needed the gold your father had promised him as a dowry if she married me… and so he sought it elsewhere.

“Meanwhile, I made my vows to you. My father did not tell me until he was on his deathbed that he had arranged my betrothal to the daughter of an old and dear friend.”

Cruz reached out again to lift Sloan’s chin, so she had no choice except to look into his eyes. “I promised my father only that Tomasita would be well wed, not that I would marry her myself. She is only seventeen. She would have lived her life out among the sisters in the convent if I had not brought her back with me from Spain.

“You must see I had no choice. I could not leave her there.” He searched Sloan’s face for understanding.

“Does Tomasita know… about us?”

“Of course not! And she knows nothing of the betrothal, either. She knows only that I am her guardian,” he admitted gruffly. “She will, of course, remain my responsibility until I can find her a suitable husband.”

Sloan wasn’t sure what to think. She had seen the looks exchanged by Cruz and Tomasita. Maybe he would rather have the younger woman after all. “I’ve never wanted to hold you to our bargain. I never thought it was fair to you, anyway. If you want to marry Tomasita, I won’t stand in your way.”

Cruz slanted his thumb across Sloan’s mouth to silence her. “I am happy with things as they are. I already have a wife. Just because you have denied me the right to take you to my bed does not make our vows any less sacred.”

He bent his head slightly and his lips grazed hers. By the time Sloan tensed, his lips were gone. She avoided Cruz’s eyes, afraid of what she would see there, focusing her gaze instead on the frogged braid that trimmed his velvet coat.

The touch of his lips had left her heart pounding. What was it she feared? She could not name it. She only knew there was danger if she stayed near him. Yet she had nowhere else to go. She tried to find words to put the barrier back between them.

“I can never be more to you than a friend. Your brother-”

“-was a fool.”

“-was my lover. The father of my child.”

Cruz swallowed the urge to shout, “It does not matter what you were to my brother!” It mattered. It wounded him to know she had loved his brother in a way she could never love him. He had fought the vision of Tonio lying next to her, touching her. He’d had honor enough not to try and take her from his brother, but that had not stopped him from wanting her.

“I can wait a little longer to take what is mine,” he said quietly. He did not have to say more to know that Sloan understood him.

“Can you tell me what made your father so angry that he struck you?” Cruz asked.

“I told him I wouldn’t share Three Oaks.”

Cruz frowned.

Sloan sighed and explained, “Rip found out Luke Summers is his bastard son. He’s made Luke heir to Three Oaks.”

Sloan met Cruz’s eyes and couldn’t bear the sympathy she saw there. He understood what losing Three Oaks meant to her. She had already chosen Three Oaks once before over a husband and a son. Battling her urge to weep, she forced her chin up another notch and crossed her arms under her breasts.

“My coming here doesn’t change things between us. I’ll only be here until Rip…” Her voice was strained with the effort to talk. “Our bargain was made in the dark of night. It can be ended the same way. I will never…”

Cruz did not give her a choice about accepting his comfort. He merely enfolded her in his arms. He laid his face against her cheek and held her until her trembling had eased, and she was once more in control.

“I will have your things brought here and ask Mamá to help you get settled,” he said.

“I’ll only be here-”

“Do not think of going away. Think only of the pleasure you bring me by staying.”

Cruz ignored the desolation he saw in Sloan’s eyes. For years he had lived in the belief that someday she would come to him. She was finally here. And she would never be leaving Dolorosa-or him-again.

“Rest tonight, Cebellina. Tomorrow we will talk. I will send Mamá to you as soon as I can.”

Sloan stared after him until he was gone. What had she done? What if he decided not to let her go? He could do it. As her husband, he had absolute power over her. No man would say him nay.

She realized she would have to trust him not to hold her against her will. Sloan shivered. It was a frightening thing, to trust a man.

When Doña Lucia appeared in the doorway, Sloan didn’t have to hear words spoken to know she wasn’t welcome in the other woman’s home. “Follow me, Señorita Stewart.”

Sloan’s heart began to race when she realized where Doña Lucia was leading her. “I can’t sleep here.”

Doña Lucia turned, her eyes narrowed in dislike. “I do not want you in Antonio’s room either. But Tomasita is staying in the guest room and I have no other bed to offer. It will only be for one night.”

Sloan held her tongue. She would leave it to Cruz to explain things to his mother. Anything she said now would only open the floodgates of ill will that existed between them. For the sake of Cruz’s generous offer of hospitality, she determined to make an effort to avoid ruffling Doña Lucia’s high-flown feathers.

“I will have Josefa bring you some water to bathe.”

“Gracias,” Sloan said.

“Do not thank me, señorita. I do this for the sake of my son. Soon he will be married to a woman worthy of him, and the son you abandoned, my grandson, will have a suitable mother to care for him.”

Sloan blanched at Doña Lucia’s cruel taunt but, in a supreme effort of will, said nothing. It was clear from the older woman’s grim-lipped smile that she knew her barb had found its mark. The gauntlet had been thrown, and Sloan was more than willing to pick it up-but not tonight. Too much had already happened that day.

“Good night, Doña Lucia,” Sloan said in a steady voice.

“Buenos noches, Señorita Stewart.” Having come away triumphant from the first sortie, Doña Lucia was perfectly willing to depart the field of battle. She closed the door quietly behind her.

Sloan was still quivering with indignation when she sank down onto the huge bed. Almost instantly, a servant knocked at the door carrying her carpetbag. He then brought a wooden tub, which the maid Josefa filled with hot water.

Sloan accepted Josefa’s help, and within an hour had bathed, dressed in a clean chambray wrapper, eaten a light supper that Josefa had gotten for her from the kitchen, and was in bed with the sheets tucked around her.

She closed her eyes, exhausted, but found she couldn’t sleep. A thousand thoughts and not one solution. Was there any chance Luke would disgorge what Rip was forcing down his throat? Meanwhile, how should she act toward Tomasita? Or Cisco? Or Doña Lucia? Not to mention Cruz. Exactly how was she expected to occupy all her empty hours here at Dolorosa?

And where on earth was she going to go from here if Rip didn’t change his mind?


Sloan was drifting between wakefulness and sleep but had the oddest sensation of being watched. When she opened her eyes, it took a moment to realize where she was. When she did, she sat up abruptly and discovered she was indeed being watched.

“Buenos días, Mamá.”

For an instant, Sloan couldn’t breathe. She had not seen Cisco since January-nearly nine months ago. It was surprising he even recognized her. Then she realized someone must have told him she was here. She couldn’t think of a thing to say that wouldn’t have encouraged the little boy to come closer, so she said nothing.