Sloan bristled, but nodded. “All right. But this touching… it can’t happen again.”

“I cannot promise that.”

Sloan huffed out a breath of air in frustration. “Don’t you see how difficult it will be for both of us if you insist on forcing us together?” Sloan’s voice became strained. “Because I won’t put my heart… or my body… in another man’s keeping… ever.”

Cruz thrust a hand through his hair and left it looking wild. “I would never hurt you, Cebellina.”

“Tonio said as much.”

His jaw tightened in anger. “I am not my brother.”

“You’re a man. And a man will say or do whatever is necessary to get what he wants from a woman.”

“All men are not so treacherous.”

Sloan snorted derisively. “Oh no? I’ll introduce you to a few of the plantation rakes who came to see me after Tonio’s death. They had heard I was pregnant and that Tonio was dead. They only wanted to offer me comfort in my bereavement. Or so they said. It took me a while to realize what they really wanted was-”

Cruz put his fingertips on her lips to silence her. He could easily guess what the young men had wanted. He would have protected her from them if he had known. But being Sloan, of course she had not asked him for his help. “Is there nothing I can do to convince you to trust me?”

“I’ll trust your word that you’ll keep your distance from me so long as I’m here.”

“I will not promise to stay away from you,” he said at last. Then he smiled, a warm, heart-stopping smile that revealed even white teeth and made crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes. “But I give you fair warning, Cebellina, that I will do everything in my power to be certain you welcome my touch.”

Sloan gasped, then laughed aloud. “You’re incorrigible!”

“It appears so.” The devilish smile stayed on his face as he continued, “Now, for the reason I came to see you so early. It is Sunday, a day of rest. I have decided we should have a picnic.”

In her delight at the whole idea, Sloan ignored the fact he had already “decided” what they should do. “A picnic sounds wonderful! Is there anything I can do to help get things ready?”

The tension left Cruz’s shoulders when he saw she wasn’t going to argue with him about going. “I took the liberty of asking Ana to pack a basket for us. I will leave you now to dress. Once we have eaten breakfast, we can go.”

Cruz leaned down to kiss her, then remembered his promise. He paused with his lips a hairsbreadth from hers, waiting. When Sloan did not draw away, he tantalizingly brushed her lips with his, then grasped her lower lip with his teeth and nibbled on it, sliding his tongue along its edges before he finally released her.

Sloan was stunned.

“You will find I always keep my promises, Cebellina.”

Before she could respond, he was gone from the room.

Sloan found herself humming as she dressed in clean trousers and a shirt and tugged on her Wellingtons. She realized she hadn’t been on a picnic since… since the previous fall when Bay had used picnics as an excuse to get her together with her son. She and Cruz and Cisco had spent nearly every Sunday picnicking with Bay and Long Quiet under a huge old live oak tree that stood on Dolorosa land. It had been an idyllic time.

She had begun to love her son… and to trust Cruz. And then, one day, Cruz had kissed her, and she had realized how much she had grown to care for him, as well as her son. Moments later, Cisco had been attacked by a renegade Comanche.

She stared down at her hands, remembering how they had looked, red with her son’s blood.

That was the day she had vowed she would rather not love at all than face the pain of losing those she loved. Once she was sure Cisco would recover, she had left Dolorosa, determined not to see Cruz or Cisco again.

Sloan forced her memories away. She had always tried to take the best, the most logical, course of action. The day she had decided to keep Cruz and Cisco at arm’s length it had made perfect sense. Nothing had altered, really, to make her change her mind. She would just have to avoid Cruz and Cisco as best she could until she left Dolorosa.

She gave her appearance a quick check in the mirror and forced a smile onto her face. Immediately, her spirits lifted. She was looking forward to spending the day relaxing at a picnic.

Her good humor followed her into the dining room, where it was quickly curtailed by the sight of a tight-lipped Doña Lucia staring balefully at an equally tight-lipped Cruz.

Cruz sat at the head of the table, his eyes locked on his mother, who sat on his right. To Cruz’s left, Tomasita perched on the edge of her chair, her eyes lowered to the hands folded tightly in her lap, while to Tomasita’s left Cisco watched Cruz, his innocent blue eyes wide and wary.

Sloan stood for a moment in the doorway trying to decide where she should sit. The only empty seat, other than the one at the opposite end of the table from Cruz, was next to Doña Lucia. She considered simply skipping breakfast altogether, but she was damnably hungry. She lifted her chin and marched across the room to sit beside the obviously furious woman.

“Good morning,” she offered.

Doña Lucia ignored her and hissed to Cruz, “I will not allow it!”

“I have been telling Mamá about our picnic,” Cruz said, his voice firm, his eyes meeting his mother’s with an implacable will. “She suggested that Tomasita should join us and that we bring along Josefa to help take care of Cisco.”

Sloan didn’t know that Cruz had intended to bring Cisco, or she wouldn’t have agreed to the picnic. There was nothing she could say now without making a scene at the table, so she responded neutrally, “Oh.”

Cruz had not repeated precisely what his mother had suggested, but he was willing to compromise with her by including Tomasita and Josefa in their outing. His mother had been appalled that he intended to take Sloan on a picnic and leave Tomasita home. After all, she had argued, Tomasita would one day be his bride.

Of course Sloan did not need a chaperon, she had added disdainfully, but Tomasita could not go without a woman to watch over her, and thus Josefa had been included.

Cruz looked at Tomasita and saw the young woman was mortified by the battle that had been taking place around her. He knew she must be confused by his mother’s attempts to throw them together, especially as she had no notion of their betrothal. The sooner he could find a proper husband for her, he thought, the better.

Two men had seemed particularly attentive to Tomasita at the fandango. Both had his approval, and he had noticed that Tomasita did not look at either of them in distaste.

Ambrosio de Arocha was a fine man and a wealthy ranchero, as was Joaquín Carvajal. Don Ambrosio had been widowed recently, and Joaquín was looking for a well-bred wife. Cruz made up his mind that if one or both of the men did not approach him in the near future, he would seek them out and invite them to dinner.

Surely a little more time spent in Tomasita’s delightful company would convince one of them to offer for her.

“What do you say, Tomasita?” Cruz asked. “Would you like to go on a picnic?”

“I…” Tomasita chanced a quick look at Doña Lucia’s fulminating expression and finished, “Whatever you decide will be fine with me.”

“Then it is settled. You will come with us.”

Doña Lucia rose, curtly excused herself and left the room.

It was only after she was gone that anyone dared to speak, and then it was Cisco who said, “I am glad Tomasita can come on our picnic, Papa.”

Sloan was startled to hear Cisco call Cruz Papa, and noticed suddenly that anyone who did not know the truth could easily believe they were father and son. Cisco had Cruz’s blue eyes, the same noble nose, and a cleft in his chin that was a miniature of Cruz’s. Tonio’s only legacy to the child appeared to be Cisco’s smile-one side of his mouth tilted higher than the other in the same way as Tonio’s had.

The fear of succumbing to her son’s charm kept Sloan quiet through the breakfast of corn tortillas and scrambled eggs garnished with a spicy tomato sauce. She spoke when spoken to, but didn’t participate in the lively conversation carried on between Cisco and Cruz, which was joined occasionally by Tomasita.

She noticed Tomasita seemed more relaxed with Doña Lucia gone from the room, and she didn’t appear disturbed by the fact that Cruz had only invited her to come along on the picnic at his mother’s insistence.

Perhaps the young woman was not as attracted to Cruz as Sloan had at first suspected. She wondered whether Tomasita would approve Cruz’s choice of husband for her with as much docile acceptance. She felt a little sorry for the young woman, whom she had begun to sincerely like.