ictoria patted the mare's neck and murmured to her. The horse liked all the attention and kept nudging Victoria with her head to encourage her to continue.

"What are you going to name her?" Jake asked as he worked the bridle on over the mare's head and eased a light bit into her mouth. She didn't mind either the bridle or the bit, and mouthed the metal without any trouble. It wasn't until he put the saddle on her that she began acting up. He wondered what in hell she'd do when he climbed on her back.

"I don't know." She had thought about it, because they had always named their animals, but she hadn't been able to think of a name that seemed suitable for the mare.

"Name her something that means ill-tempered, vicious, and contrary," Jake muttered.

Victoria couldn't help the sudden smile that lit her face. "She's none of those things!"

"Just wait until she takes a nip out of your leg." He looked down at her bright expression and felt his loins tighten. One way or another, this damn horse was a godsend, forcing Victoria to spend a lot of time with him. He intended to use every minute of that time making her aware of him. Lady or not, she was a woman beneath those clothes, and she liked it when he touched her.

"You'd better step out of the way, or you might get that nip now," he warned. He waited until Victoria moved away before settling the saddle on the mare's back. The horse whipped her head around, but he was too fast and her teeth snapped on air.

Victoria laughed, and the sound clutched at Jake's chest.

"You might think it's funny, but you're not riding her until I can get her broken of all her bad habits," he said. The mare sidestepped away as he tried to tighten the cinches, and he cursed her luridly, not bothering to apologize to Victoria for his language. She'd probably hear a lot worse by the time her precious horse was fit to be ridden.

"Why aren't you putting a sidesaddle on her?" she asked.

"Because I've got to ride her, and there's no way in hell I'm going to try it with one of those things."

Victoria laughed again. It was funny, watching the mare shift away from him; if a horse could have expressions, then the mare was definitely enjoying what she was doing. Jake just kept at the task until he had the cinches as tight as he wanted. He called the mare names that Victoria had never heard mentioned in polite company, but he was never rough with her. When he finished he patted her neck, and contrarily she turned her head to nuzzle his chest.

"You damn contrary cayuse," Jake murmured, then took the reins in his hand and said to Victoria, "Climb up on the fence. I'm going to try riding her, and I don't think she's going to like it."

Victoria complied as the men who happened to be nearby all wandered over to prop their arms on the fence and call encouragement, insults, or advice to Jake.

"You won't last ten seconds, Roper."

"Stay in the saddle—"

"Give that hoss a ride—"

"Show these jackasses how it's done—Pardon me, ma'am."

"Hope you like dirt, Roper, 'cause you're about to get a mouthful of it."

"I don't doubt that none," Jake replied, grinning at the razing. "It wouldn't be the first time." He set his hat firmly on his head and fit his left boot into the stirrup, then swung into the saddle with one easy motion.

For a second the mare stood stock still, as if she couldn't believe there was actually someone on her back. Then she exploded into motion, first up on the back legs, then twisting and coming down with her head low. She bucked and jumped and corkscrewed, and tried to brush him off against the fence. The men were yelling, and clouds of dust enveloped them.

The mare twisted again and came down hard, her hindquarters lifting. Jake came off over her head and landed with a thump. The men laughed and shouted suggestions. He heard Victoria laugh, and the sound rippled through him on a wave of pleasure even though he was spitting dirt out of his mouth. Jake eased into a sitting position. The mare had settled down as soon as his weight had left the saddle, and ambled over to nudge him.

"You goddamn scrub," he said softly as he climbed to his feet. "You've got to learn how to behave, so the lady can ride you. You won't get me off this time; I'm gonna ride you until you're so tired you can't jump, and then I'm going to teach you some manners."

He took up the reins again and was back in the saddle before the mare knew what he was doing.

She had tired a little from her first effort at unseating him, but she wasn't ready to admit defeat. With fire in her eyes, the mare sunfished and corkscrewed; she tried everything, but the man on her back didn't fly off. She ran straight for the fence and swerved only at the last second, and one of the men jerked Victoria backward off the fence, out of harm's way.

"Sorry, ma'am," he said, never taking his eyes off the man and horse.

"That's quite all right. Thank you."

"Yes, ma'am."

The mare tried several more times to brush him off, then just began running around and around the corral. Her speed didn't slow. "I'm taking her over!" Jake yelled, and pulled her head around until she was headed directly for the fence. Her powerful hindquarters bunched, she lifted, and was clear with plenty of room to spare. Jake's hat flew off, but he stayed in the saddle. He bent down low over the horse's neck. When she got that temper worked off, her training could start. Letting her run was the best thing he could do. At this point it was the only thing.

"Guess we'll have to build the fence higher," one man commented.

Victoria watched man and horse receding in the distance. "When will they be back?" she wondered aloud.

"When that hoss tires out, I reckon."

She looked at the man who had spoken. He was the same one who had jerked her off the fence when the mare had veered in her direction. She felt embarrassed that she didn't know his name and felt that she should thank him again for his action. She held out her hand. "I'm indebted to you, Mister—?"

"Quinzy," the man said. He looked at her hand, then wiped his own on his pants before taking hers. "Jake Quinzy, ma'am."

"Thank you, Mr. Quinzy, for acting so swiftly. I was taken off guard and couldn't have moved out of the way on my own."

He pulled his hat down lower over his eyes. "It was my pleasure, ma'am."

Like so many of the other men, Jake Quinzy wore his holster tied low on his thigh. His face was weathered to the texture of old leather, with myriad lines radiating around his eyes, and there was a touch of gray in his sideburns, but he was as lean and muscled as any of the young men. His eyes, a curious grayish-brown, were emotionless as he studied her from under the brim of his hat.

How was she supposed to act with men like this? She had no idea what type of life he had led, what kind of man he was. Yet he was still standing there and the countless hours of having good manners drilled into her compelled her to make conversation.

"I admit, I feel rather jealous of Mr. Roper," she said with a smile. "I had hoped to be the first to ride the mare."

"It's best someone else works the kinks out of her," Quinzy replied. "You might get hurt if she threw you."

"My goodness, I've been thrown before!" She laughed, remembering some of the spills she'd taken and the bruises suffered. "Everyone who rides has parted company with his saddle, I imagine."

"Yes, ma'am, I reckon that's so."

Quinzy had chores to do, but he remained standing beside Mrs. McLain, letting her lead him in small talk. He seldom had a chance to talk to a woman like her. She fascinated him; she was as tidy as a Sunday-school teacher and a sweet smell lingered in the air around her. Her skin was pale and smooth, and she had been soft under his hands when he'd put them on her waist to pull her down from the fence. She was so different from him that he felt like a great, rough, clumsy bear in comparison. Garnet called her a high-nosed, hoity-toity bitch, but Quincy thought she was calm and dignified. He decided Mrs. McLain was one thing he didn't need to be taking Garnet's advice about.

The mare ran like the wind. Her powerful muscles bunched and expanded as her hooves pounded the earth. Jake settled into the rhythm, his legs holding her, his hand trying to coax her to respond, but she ignored him and he finally decided to let her run until she couldn't.

Her stamina was amazing. He was a big man, but she acted as if she didn't feel his weight at all. Long after most horses would have been exhausted, her long legs still worked effortlessly. He sensed that she was no longer running from temper, but from the sheer joy of running, and admiration for her filled him. God, what a horse! She was a fit mate for Rubio, as outstanding a mare as he was a stallion. The foals they would get from her would leave all other horses in their dust.

On the other hand, the Major might have been right, as much as he hated to admit it. She might be too much horse for Victoria to handle. She was as strong as most stallions, though Rubio had her beat when it came to sheer power.

Gradually she began slowing, first to a canter, then a walk. He patted her neck, his admiration plain in his voice as he praised her. She wasn't even blown; she was tired, but her gait was still steady, and she tossed her head in a show of spirit.

"That's a good girl. God, you can run! Are you ready to head back home now?" She stopped and he let her rest for a minute, but he didn't dismount. She was just contrary enough to take off without him. When her breathing had slowed, he squeezed her with his legs and lifted the reins. She snorted, shook her head, and ignored him.

Jake swore softly and nudged her with his heels. She tried to bite him. It looked like he had a long day ahead of him.

It was two hours later when they returned to the ranch. By then she was responding to some of his signals, but ignoring others. He kept his temper under control and his hands light on the reins. Despite all the problems she'd given him, she was a magnificent animal. She still had enough energy left to prance as they approached the corral, to demonstrate that he was on her back only because she allowed it.

Victoria was nowhere in sight, but she'd evidently left orders that she be called as soon as he returned because she walked up while he was still unsaddling the mare. She'd changed out of her riding habit into a dark blue skirt with a high-necked shirtwaist blouse that had a hint of lace at the throat and sleeves. She looked as cool as the winter snows, while he was hot and dusty and had a headache from being out in the sun so long without his hat.

"How did she do?" she asked, stroking the mare's nose.

"It was a draw," he muttered. "I won on some things, she won on others."

He was as sweaty as the horse and his face was streaked with dirt. He was exactly the rough type of man that she'd always avoided, but she didn't return to the house as she knew she should. Instead she watched him take care of the horse, and the sight of his strong, tanned hands and forearms, bared by his rolled-up sleeves, fascinated her.

"I've thought of a name for her," she said, because she couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I've thought of a few myself," Jake grunted.

"Sophie."

He grunted again, a sound that didn't express either approval or disapproval. "Sophie it is, then."

"I didn't want to name her some common name like Princess or Duchess, or a mythological name. Just Sophie." She stopped, a little tense because she wanted him to like her choice.

"It'll do." He led the horse into a stall and fetched a bucket of water for her, then fed her. He slapped her darkly gleaming rump, and she shifted sideways just enough to jostle him.

Victoria laughed and he looked up, a half-smile twisting his lips. "I heard you laughing when she tossed me."

She didn't look guilty. Her eyes twinkled at him. "It was funny. She looked so proud of herself."

He closed the stall door and propped his arms on top of it. He was so close to her that she could smell his sweat and feel the heat of his body. Before she could put some protective distance between them, he reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheekbone. "I didn't mind," he said softly. "I like hearing you laugh." She didn't laugh enough, he realized. He wanted to gather her close and protect her, give her a world where she could laugh more.

His touch confused her. She looked away and searched for some way to change the subject. Sophie was the most obvious excuse available, so she said, "Can she run?"

"Can she run," he repeated softly, awe in his voice. "She's so fast and strong that maybe it isn't a good idea for you to ride her."

Victoria stiffened. "I'm a very good rider, and she's my horse."

"She's headstrong and stubborn, and so strong that if she decided to bolt you wouldn't be able to hold her."

"I repeat, she's my horse and I'll ride her."

"Come to think of it, you do have a lot in common with her," he said, his gaze intense as he looked at her. "She's proud, contrary, and kicks up a fuss about a man riding her, but she'll like it once she gets used to it and settles down some."

Victoria turned white and fell back a step from the look in those hard, level green eyes. There was no mistaking his meaning and no mistaking the way he was looking at her. "No," she whispered. "Don't say that." She lifted her skirts to leave, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her closer to him.

"Running away won't make it any less true."

"Mr. Roper, please let go of me."

"Jake," he said. "Don't call me Mr. Roper like I've never kissed you and you haven't kissed me back. And maybe I don't want to let go of you. Maybe I want another kiss."

"Hush!" She looked around desperately, terrified that someone would see or hear them. For God's sake, why was he doing this? Any number of people could walk in. He'd killed Pledger to keep the man from telling that he'd seen Jake coming out of her room, and now he was deliberately jeopardizing that same secret.

"No one's around." He smiled a little grimly and released her. "Don't look so scared. You're not going to have to scream 'rape' to protect your reputation. I'm not going to throw you into a stall and flip your skirts up, even though the idea is mighty pleasing, Miz McLain."

"Jake, please." He might think her proud, but she would beg if necessary. "I'm not that sort of woman. I'm sorry if I gave you that impression—"

"The impression I got is that you're a woman who doesn't know how much pleasure your body can give you—"

"Pleasure!" she said in a stifled tone of disgust.

He was pleased at this confirmation that she didn't enjoy her marital duties with McLain. It still grated at him that she slept with the bastard at all, but he couldn't stand the thought of her enjoying it.

"Yeah, pleasure." His voice was rough and low. "Don't make the mistake of thinking that having me inside you would be the same as having McLain."

The color washed into her face as she remembered the shameful dreams and fantasies she'd had about him, and she felt as mortified as if he'd been able to read her mind.

She began backing away. "This isn't right," she whispered. "We can't—"

"That's right, run away. Like I said, that won't change anything. I'll see you in the morning. Ten o'clock."

She hurried back to the house, her face burning. She'd tell the Major that she wanted someone else to train the horse. But what excuse could she give for wanting Jake replaced? She couldn't do anything that might result in him being fired; he was the only protection she could provide for Celia.

There was nothing she could do. She was caught in a spider web of circumstance, and she couldn't tear free without endangering Celia.

So she was there at ten the next morning, her face carefully composed and blank. Jake was already mounted on Sophie and was patiently walking her around the corral, teaching her the commands every well-mannered horse should know. Except for giving Victoria a piercing look when she first walked up, he ignored her and concentrated on the mare.

The sun was hot, and a trickle of perspiration made an itching path down her spine. She rubbed the back of her neck, which was beginning to prickle despite the floppy-brimmed hat she'd borrowed from Car-mita that morning. Why did he want her out here if he was going to do all the work with the horse?

"Did you have any trouble with her this morning?" she finally asked.

"A little. She wanted to jump the fence and run like she did yesterday. But she didn't try to bite me when I saddled her, so we're making progress."

"How long will it be before I can ride her?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On how she acts, and how fast she learns."

"Mr. Roper, it's very hot out here. I have better things to do than just stand in the sun letting dust settle on me."

He reined Sophie in and stared at her. "All right. Let's change saddles on her and you can start doing some of the work. But I don't want to hear any squalling if she throws you."

Victoria's heart leaped at the thought of getting to ride her beautiful horse, and she smiled at him. "I don't 'squall' when I'm thrown."

"Then let's see how good you are."

He led Sophie to the stable and unsaddled her, throwing the saddle on his own horse. He nodded toward the tack room. "Your saddle is in there. Get to work."

If he thought she wouldn't know how to go about saddling a horse, he'd soon find out differently. Victoria found one of the new side saddles the Major had bought in Santa Fe and a saddle blanket, both of which she carried to where Sophie was restlessly shifting about.

"Watch her teeth," Jake warned.

Victoria patted Sophie and talked to her before positioning the blanket on her back. The mare turned her head and watched every move. When Victoria lifted the saddle, the horse shifted but didn't move out of reach. She allowed the saddle to be put on her back and finally turned her head away as if bored while Victoria tightened the cinches.

Jake had already finished saddling his own horse, a big gelding, and he came over to boost Victoria into the sidesaddle. She waited for him to cup his hands for her to step into, but instead he clasped her around the waist and effortlessly lifted her. Startled, Victoria grabbed his shoulders for balance, her fingers digging into his heavy muscles. He plopped her in her seat and held her there, narrowly watching Sophie for any signs of rebellion.

Victoria steadied herself with a deep breath and hooked her right knee around the pommel while she found the stirrup with her left boot. Sophie glanced around, curious at this much lighter weight and strange seat, but she seemed to accept them.

Jake swung into his saddle. "She has a real tender mouth, so keep a light touch on the reins. All she needs is a nudge with your heel, but don't kick her. That riles her up."

Victoria obeyed, and found that she had to give Sophie only the smallest hint of direction with the reins. They walked out of the stable into the hot sun and halted in the yard when the Major hailed them.

"Fine-looking horse," he enthused as he approached. "Yep, she'll give us some fine foals when we breed her."

Victoria stiffened. This was the first she'd heard about breeding Sophie. Eventually, yes, she wanted a foal from the mare, but Sophie was still young and there was plenty of time. She wanted to be able to enjoy her new mount first. "I don't want Sophie bred yet," she said firmly.

The Major didn't even look at her. He was still examining Sophie, beaming over her. He slapped the horse's neck a little too hard and the mare took exception to it by dancing away. Jake's hand shot out to aid Victoria in controlling the animal, and Victoria murmured softly to settle the horse down.

The Major put his hands on his hips. "You were right, Roper. The foals we'll get from her will show up alt the other horses in the territory," he said, as if Victoria had never spoken at all. Her lips tightened, but a wife didn't argue with her husband in public. There would be time later.

"She's strong and fast," Jake agreed noncommittally.

Still McLain stood there, his eyes narrowed and sort of glittery. "Uh—where are you going on your ride?"

"I thought we'd head toward the river, then circle around to the north a little."

McLain nodded. "How long you think you'll be gone?"

Jake's face was impassive, the way it always was when he was talking with McLain. It was the only way he could keep his hatred from showing. "Maybe a couple of hours."

"Take your time, take your time. There's a lot of ranch to see." He finally stepped back, but not before slapping Sophie's neck again. The horse neighed in protest and reared a little. Again Jake reached out protectively to aid Victoria, this time to catch her in case she came off the saddle. But Victoria remained firmly seated and settled Sophie down nicely herself. By the time the horse was quiet, McLain was striding back toward the house without even a glance in their direction.

The bastard. Jake's face was grim as he watched him leave.

They walked the horses across the yard, then kicked them into an easy canter. Jake watched both Victoria and Sophie, but the former was indeed a good horsewoman and the latter seemed inclined to behave. He relaxed and let himself begin to enjoy the ride. It was a beautiful summer day, and the woman he planned to make his own was beside him. Things like that could go to a man's head.

The river was about a mile from the house, a broad, shallow ribbon that glittered and gulped. "Why wasn't the house built closer to the river?" she asked. She thought it would have been the sensible thing, to be close to a water supply. There was a small creek that ran just behind the house, but it would disappear in dry weather.

"See how shallow it is? It floods every spring from the runoff." He pointed to the north, on his left. "See that stand of cotton woods on the riverbank? The river is about waist deep there. That's where we take our baths, in the summer, anyway."

The men bathed in the river? She felt ashamed of her ignorance, for she had assumed that they had bathtubs for their convenience. If she had thought, she would have realized that it would have been a never-ending job to haul and heat enough water for as many men as worked on the ranch.

"How many men are there?"

"A little over a hundred."

"That many? I wouldn't have guessed."

"Only about half of us are at the hacienda at any given time. The others are out at line shacks or on the ranch. The ranch is over half a million acres."

She was astounded by the size. No one had bothered to tell her before, and she was too shy to ask, in case it sounded like avarice on her part. But she had trusted Jake enough, and what he'd told her boggled her imagination. The thought of being surrounded by so much space frightened her, but she also felt a sense of exhilaration. She looked back in the direction from which they'd come, but the hacienda was hidden from view by both a thick stand of trees and the lay of the land. Except for Jake, she was alone, more alone than she could ever remember being before. There was the sun and the earth, the river, the wind, the magnificent horse beneath her, and it felt wonderful. She couldn't wait until she could begin riding on her own, and said as much.

He snorted. "Woman, use your common sense! You can't go riding out here alone, not ever."

She started to snap that she'd do whatever she pleased, but her common sense did indeed assert itself as she realized he knew much more about this wild, beautiful land than she did. So she said calmly, "Why?"

"The hacienda has been here for a long time, but that doesn't mean the land is civilized. If you get tossed off out here and your horse runs away, it means a helluva lot more than walking a half-mile to a neighbor's house. There aren't any neighbors. There are bears, mountain lion, and snakes to watch out for. Not only that, there are occasional Indian raids on the cattle, though it isn't as bad now that the Navaho are on the reservation. They'd steal your cattle while you were looking at them. There are drifters wandering through, and some of our own men aren't fine, upstanding citizens, in case you haven't noticed. It wouldn't do for you to be caught out here on your own."

"When will you have Emma's and Celia's horses trained? Then I'll be able to ride with them."

"Celia's horse has been ready, but I haven't told her because she'd be hell-bent and determined to take off on her own." They shared a look of complete understanding, and Jake smiled ruefully. "She's already been pestering me to let her ride astride like a man."

Victoria looked horrified. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her her skirts would get in the way, and she'd have to ask you for permission anyway." His eyes were bright with amusement.

"Thank you very much," she said tartly, but couldn't help smiling. "What about Emma's horse?"

"Miss Emma's gelding won't be any trouble, either. It was just this lady I was worried about."

"She's behaving perfectly."

"So she is. It makes me nervous."

Victoria threw back her head and laughed, exposing her white throat and dislodging the hat; it dangled down her back, suspended by the cords from her neck. Still chuckling, she reached back to retrieve it.

Jake couldn't stop looking at her; she was so bright and happy, the way she should be. He felt that odd clenching in his chest again, then it eased into a throb.

He reined in and dismounted. She stopped laughing and looked at him in surprise as he came around and lifted her from the saddle. She grabbed at his shoulders, trying to stiffen her arms and hold herself away from him, but he let her slide down his body until her boots touched the ground. Her habit skirt caught on the buckle of his gunbelt, exposing her white petticoat. Her face flamed and she tried to jerk backward, but his hands were still on her waist and he pulled her against him as he bent his head.

He wasn't rough with her. His mouth was warm, the intrusion of his tongue slow and sweet. Victoria trembled, but she had experienced his kiss before and the temptation to know it again was too powerful. Her arms went around his neck and she welcomed the penetration of her mouth with shy, uncertain movements of her tongue against his. He shuddered, his arms tightening around her, and wonder filled her that she could make this man, dangerous as he was, feel the same hot, uncontrollable pleasure he aroused in her.

He stroked his hands up her back, and she arched into him like a cat. Jake quickly took advantage of the instinctive offering of her body and closed his hand over her breast. Victoria jerked, her eyes flying open. No one had ever touched her there; she tried to tear away from him, but he easily controlled the motion and continued his gentle caress.

"Stop!" she whispered. His hand burned her breast even through the layers of clothing, eliciting a shameful tightening in her nipple. She knew she shouldn't let him do this, knew she should never enjoy it, but she did. The hot pleasure intensified and a soft moan caught in her throat.

He reached up and removed his hat, then let it drop in the dust beside them. The sun glinted on the green in his narrowed eyes. "Why do you want me to stop?" he asked, his voice low and rough. His breathing was fast, his body taut.

"It isn't right." The excuse sounded feeble even to her own ears, but it was the excuse that had been drummed into her since the day she had gone to long skirts and left childhood behind. She had never before imagined that it would be so weak against the impulses of her own body.

Jake's expression didn't change as he stared down at her. "It doesn't get any righter, sweetheart." The truth in his own words struck him. He had held a lot of women, but none had felt as perfect in his arms as she did; none of them had made him feel at home. It was amazing how he could feel both so comfortable and so aroused at the same time.

"We have to stop." She knew she should withdraw her arms from around his neck and push him away, but there was something so primitively satisfying in standing there in the bright sun, in his arms, feeling the heat of his body and inhaling the scent of his skin, that she couldn't bring herself to step away.

"In a minute." His voice had roughened again, and her heart jumped as he bent toward her. Her strength was washed out on the tide of warmth that filled her, and her head fell back. He trailed biting kisses down her exposed throat, then back up to her mouth. He touched her other breast, and the same tingling assailed her again. A heavy ache began forming deep in her lower body; she squirmed unconsciously, her hips writhing against his, and he made a rough sound as he dropped his arm to circle her hips and grind her into him, rubbing the hard ridge of his manhood against her soft mound.

It had been nasty with the Major. With Jake, she wanted only to cling, blindly seeking more of this fevered pleasure. Her hands slid up into his sun-warmed hair, and she pressed her palms against his head to hold it down where she could take more of his kisses. His taste was heady, a mixture of coffee and tobacco, and his breath filled her, a mingling no less intimate than that of his tongue probing hers.

Sophie shifted impatiently, bumping into them. Jake raised his head. "You sorry jackass," he said hoarsely.

Victoria was breathing in fast gulps. She stepped back, her hands pressed to her face. In another minute she would have been lying down in the dust for him. That sure knowledge was so at odds with the way she had always thought of herself that she felt devastated; she had to admit to her own weakness now. She wanted Jake Roper in a carnal way she could no longer deny. She had been savagely jealous when she'd seen him making love with the tinker's daughter; just the thought of him made her heart beat faster while his presence pitched her to a state of intense awareness that was almost painful.

Dear God. She loved him.

She had always thought the state of love required long acquaintance with someone, a sure knowledge of personality and a basis of friendship. Now she knew that it could be forged from a base of lust, that liking wasn't necessary and that long-held standards crumpled before it.

His hair was tousled, his lips swollen, and his expression hard as he still dealt with his own arousal. He leaned slowly down to pick up his hat, as if every movement had to be careful. After he adjusted it on his head, he said, "I'll be damned if I apologize."

"No," she agreed in a whisper.

"It won't be the last time." He reached out and trailed one finger down her pale cheek. "You're gonna be my woman, but it won't be in the dirt, with the sun burning this pretty white skin. We'll be in bed, Victoria, with the door locked, and we won't have to worry about anyone interrupting."

The years of her mother's training shouted at her to deny his arrogant assumption that she was his for the taking, but she couldn't. She couldn't lie to herself, couldn't hide behind strictures that no longer held sway out here in this rough, wild land. She wanted him; she wouldn't pretend otherwise, even though it wouldn't, couldn't, happen.

She moaned inwardly and managed to whisper, "I can't. I'm married."

"Married!" He hissed the word. "You're married to a whoring, murdering bastard. How do you think he got this hacienda? Do you think he paid for it? He murdered the family it belonged to, the Sarratts; he raped Elena Sarratt before he put a bullet in her head. That's the man you want to be faithful to, the man who was in a whore's bed the day after you married him."

His words were like blows. Nausea twisted her stomach and she stumbled to her knees, bent over from the waist, gagging and heaving.

His face grim, Jake got his canteen and tugged his handkerchief free from his throat, then poured water over it. After capping the canteen, he knelt beside Victoria and gently wiped her face. She took the handkerchief and pressed it to her cheeks, trying to deal with the sickness that still roiled in her at the thought of such a man touching her. "How do you know about that family—the Sarratts?" she finally asked in a muffled voice.

"Word gets around." He held the canteen out to her. "Take a drink of water."

She swished water around in her mouth before spitting it out on the ground, then drank. She should be mortified, vomiting and spitting in front of a man, but somehow that seemed a petty concern after what Jake had just told her. She lifted her head and stared at him with shadowed eyes. "I can't stay here," she said flatly. "I'll get Emma and Celia and leave. I can't stay in the same house with him."

Jake cursed at the idea of her leaving. "No," he said.

She clutched his arm. "But I can't stay."

"You have to stay. I'm here, Victoria. I'll take care of you."

"What can you do? You're not in that house with him, you don't have to take your meals with him and look at his face, listen to him—"

"It won't be for much longer," he said. He hadn't wanted to tell her that much, but she had reacted more strongly than he'd anticipated to the truth about her husband.

Her dazed eyes focused on him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I've heard some rumors, and that's all I can tell you. Trust me, Victoria. Stay. I'll take care of you."

His green eyes burned into hers. For a moment she was as frightened of him as she was sickened at the thought of the Major; there was something hard in his eyes, as if he would stop at nothing to get his way. Yet he was the man she loved, dangerous as he was. If she left, she might never see him again. Pain clenched her heart at the thought.

"All right," she whispered. "I'll stay."