don’t think twice about fulfilling your bargain with Cruz,” Luke said.
“I have been thinking. I’ve done nothing but think for the past five days, since he showed up at Three Oaks and gave me an ultimatum—come to Dolorosa or he’d be back with his vaqueros to get me.” Sloan brushed a wisp of sable hair from her cheekbone.
“How do you feel about Cruz . . . as a man?” Luke asked.
Sloan shivered. She had been carefully avoiding this subject because the truth was that she found Cruz tantalizing in a way his younger brother never had been. But she wasn’t about to admit that to Luke.
“What do you want me to say? He’s strong and well formed. He has eyes as blue as the Texas sky and crow-wing black hair.” She shrugged dismissively. “He’s an attractive man. There’s no denying it.
“But he’s also arrogant and demanding. He’s used to giving orders and having them obeyed. And he doesn’t know the meaning of the word
compromise
!”
That last accusation wasn’t exactly precise, Sloan admitted, but it was true enough to mean problems if she found herself living with Cruz.
“Have you imagined what it would be like to—”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“How can you choose Three Oaks over a flesh-and-blood man when you won’t let yourself consider what the man has to offer you?”
“I’ve had a man between my legs,” Sloan said crudely, hoping to end the conversation. “I can’t imagine one is much different from another.”
Luke didn’t contradict her. She would have to find out the truth for herself. “You could give it a try. Things might work out. Did you ever think maybe you could use someone to lean on once in a while, someone to share your troubles and lighten the load?”
“That’s the last thing I need.” But Sloan knew the vehemence of her objection was directly related to the immense appeal of Luke’s suggestion.
Luke stood up and brushed the grass and dirt from the seat of his pants. “Sounds like you have your mind made up.”
Sloan rubbed her palms on the knees of her trousers, then looked up to meet Luke’s penetrating gaze. “I guess I do.”
“I’ll be going, then.” He wasn’t going to try to change Sloan’s mind. But he wasn’t going to approve of her decision, either. He swung into the saddle and kneed his chestnut gelding away from the river at a walk.
“Luke . . .”
He reined in his horse and looked back at Sloan over his shoulder, waiting for her to speak.
“You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“Thanks for listening. I . . . needed . . . someone.” It was a hard thing to admit aloud.
“You’re welcome, Sloan. Anytime.” He nudged his horse with his heels and soon left her behind him.
Luke felt a well of anger rising inside him and struggled to subdue it. He shouldn’t care what Sloan Stewart did with her life, but he couldn’t seem to distance himself from any woman in distress. A legacy from his childhood, he thought with disgust, when his mother had needed someone to rescue her from the mire and he had been too young to help. He had grown up as fast as he could, but it had still been too slow to make a difference.
He wanted to help Sloan, but he debated the wisdom of interfering. Maybe he would only make things worse. He had no way of predicting how Rip would react to the message he planned to deliver.
Aw, hell! All Rip Stewart had ever wanted was a son. Knowing he had one—even if he was a bastard—was bound to make a difference.
Luke turned his mount toward the plantation house. There was no time like the present for digging up bitter, long-buried secrets.
Chapter 4
S LOAN SQUARED HER SHOULDERS AND LIFTED her chin to confront her father. “I don’t care how many of your bastard sons turn up on the doorstep. Three Oaks is mine! And I don’t intend to share it!”
Rip quivered with repressed wrath. He had raised his eldest daughter to know her own mind,
“I have been thinking. I’ve done nothing but think for the past five days, since he showed up at Three Oaks and gave me an ultimatum—come to Dolorosa or he’d be back with his vaqueros to get me.” Sloan brushed a wisp of sable hair from her cheekbone.
“How do you feel about Cruz . . . as a man?” Luke asked.
Sloan shivered. She had been carefully avoiding this subject because the truth was that she found Cruz tantalizing in a way his younger brother never had been. But she wasn’t about to admit that to Luke.
“What do you want me to say? He’s strong and well formed. He has eyes as blue as the Texas sky and crow-wing black hair.” She shrugged dismissively. “He’s an attractive man. There’s no denying it.
“But he’s also arrogant and demanding. He’s used to giving orders and having them obeyed. And he doesn’t know the meaning of the word
compromise
!”
That last accusation wasn’t exactly precise, Sloan admitted, but it was true enough to mean problems if she found herself living with Cruz.
“Have you imagined what it would be like to—”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“How can you choose Three Oaks over a flesh-and-blood man when you won’t let yourself consider what the man has to offer you?”
“I’ve had a man between my legs,” Sloan said crudely, hoping to end the conversation. “I can’t imagine one is much different from another.”
Luke didn’t contradict her. She would have to find out the truth for herself. “You could give it a try. Things might work out. Did you ever think maybe you could use someone to lean on once in a while, someone to share your troubles and lighten the load?”
“That’s the last thing I need.” But Sloan knew the vehemence of her objection was directly related to the immense appeal of Luke’s suggestion.
Luke stood up and brushed the grass and dirt from the seat of his pants. “Sounds like you have your mind made up.”
Sloan rubbed her palms on the knees of her trousers, then looked up to meet Luke’s penetrating gaze. “I guess I do.”
“I’ll be going, then.” He wasn’t going to try to change Sloan’s mind. But he wasn’t going to approve of her decision, either. He swung into the saddle and kneed his chestnut gelding away from the river at a walk.
“Luke . . .”
He reined in his horse and looked back at Sloan over his shoulder, waiting for her to speak.
“You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“Thanks for listening. I . . . needed . . . someone.” It was a hard thing to admit aloud.
“You’re welcome, Sloan. Anytime.” He nudged his horse with his heels and soon left her behind him.
Luke felt a well of anger rising inside him and struggled to subdue it. He shouldn’t care what Sloan Stewart did with her life, but he couldn’t seem to distance himself from any woman in distress. A legacy from his childhood, he thought with disgust, when his mother had needed someone to rescue her from the mire and he had been too young to help. He had grown up as fast as he could, but it had still been too slow to make a difference.
He wanted to help Sloan, but he debated the wisdom of interfering. Maybe he would only make things worse. He had no way of predicting how Rip would react to the message he planned to deliver.
Aw, hell! All Rip Stewart had ever wanted was a son. Knowing he had one—even if he was a bastard—was bound to make a difference.
Luke turned his mount toward the plantation house. There was no time like the present for digging up bitter, long-buried secrets.
Chapter 4
S LOAN SQUARED HER SHOULDERS AND LIFTED her chin to confront her father. “I don’t care how many of your bastard sons turn up on the doorstep. Three Oaks is mine! And I don’t intend to share it!”
Rip quivered with repressed wrath. He had raised his eldest daughter to know her own mind,
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