ake looked both left and right as he left the telegraph office, but saw no one he knew. As capital of the territory, Santa Fe was bursting at the seams and no one paid any attention to one more dusty cowhand. The streets were crowded with bonneted women, men in blue army uniforms, prosperous merchants in their tailored suits, rough ranchers, shopkeepers, saloon bartenders, politicians, children darting and playing, and untold numbers of dusty cowhands. He was hidden in their swarming midst.

He settled his hat lower on his forehead to shade his eyes and began walking up the street. It was past noon, when McLain had told Victoria they would look at a string of horses. The Major had asked Roper to help in the selection, and he was looking forward to the excuse to stand close to Victoria and watch her evade his eyes. She hadn't looked at him square in the face since the night she'd caught him with Fiorina. Right from the first she had met him stare for stare, bolder than most men, but now she tried not to even acknowledge his presense. He was going to have to do something about that.

About twenty horses were milling about in two adjoining corrals. Celia was perched on the railing with her bonnet dangling down her back by its strings, and enthusiastically pointing out the horses she liked. From what he could tell, she had narrowed her favorites down to about half of the herd. Victoria and Emma were standing a little back from the fence, watching the horses and occasionally asking questions of the beefy man standing beside them, who evidently owned the herd. McLain was leaning on the railing with Garnet beside him. Several more McLain men were close by.

Emma pointed. "I like that one," she said decisively, and McLain signaled that her choice be separated from the herd.

Jake looked the horse over. It was a stocky, strong-looking gray gelding with calm eyes, and it didn't fidget when it was cut from the herd. For a lady's mount, it was a good choice. When the Major noticed he'd arrived and caught his eye, Jake nodded his approval.

Celia squealed, and Jake saw Victoria give her sister a loving, amused look. "This one!" Celia called, pointing to a showy chestnut with cream-colored mane and tail.

The beefy man transferred his chew of tobacco from one cheek to the other. "He's not real well-mannered, miss," he said gruffly.

Jake walked up beside Celia and rested his arms on the top railing while he looked over the horses. "What you want," he said in a quiet voice, "is a horse with good strong legs and one that don't look like it'll shy every time a rabbit crosses its trail." The girl loved horses, but from what he'd seen she hadn't had much experience with them. She was attracted to the fancy-colored animals regardless of their temperament, but what she needed more than anything was a horse with a placid disposition.

He pointed out a dark brown horse with one white stocking. "Now, look at that horse," he said. "It's got good strong shoulders and legs, and a deep chest. That means it's got good lungs. That horse could carry you all day and all night without getting tired." It was also as calm as the horse Emma had selected.

Celia tilted her head a little to the side as she studied the animal. "He isn't very pretty," she said.

"It's a mare," Jake corrected. He looked at the beefy man. "How about bringing that dark brown mare with the stocking up so the lady can meet her."

A simple rope bridle was fashioned on the mare's nose, and she willingly walked over to snuffle at Celia's shoes and skirts before nuzzling at her hand. Celia giggled, a sound like liquid sunlight, and stroked the mare's neck.

"She's dusty, but a good brushing will make her shine," Jake said.

The mare blew through her nose, sounding as if she agreed, and Celia was won. She turned a beaming smile on Jake. "I want this one," Celia said, still patting her new friend's neck.

Jake glanced at Victoria and caught her watching him. For the first time she didn't jerk her eyes away as if she couldn't bear to see him. Pushing it, Jake walked up to her and tipped his hat. "Mrs. McLain. Miss Emma."

Victoria was a little pale, but she met his gaze. "Thank you," she said in a low voice, nodding toward Celia.

"No thanks needed, ma'am. Do you need any help picking out your own horse, or have you already made up your mind?"

Victoria had, but she looked blindly at the horses again. He was standing so close that she could feel his warmth at her shoulder.

"Let Roper pick one out for you," McLain said. "He knows his horses."

"I already know which one I want. The tall mare with the blaze. The dark chestnut." She felt stifled by Roper's nearness and stepped forward until she reached the railing.

To her dismay Jake moved forward, too, under the guise of looking for the mare. His left shoulder crowded her and immediately he put his left hand on her waist. "Steady, ma'am," he said, as if she had stumbled.

He took his time removing his hand. He was standing between her and the Major, blocking her from McLain's view with his own body. Victoria shuddered and stepped sideways. Her skin burned where he had touched her.

The beefy man transferred his chew again, eyeing the mare in question. "I don't know, ma'am. She's only about half broke to the saddle, and tends to be a touch headstrong."

Jake looked at the mare and his eyes narrowed with interest. No doubt about it, that was a damn fine horse. She was big for a mare, as big as most stallions, and she had fire in her eyes. She was strongly built, but her lines suggested speed, too.

He rubbed his jaw. "How old is she?"

"Three. Ain't never been bred."

"Too wild looking," McLain announced. "I don't want my wife risking her neck on some half-wild nag."

Victoria pressed her lips together and looked away. Jake realized she wouldn't argue with McLain, just as he realized she badly wanted the mare. He rubbed his jaw again and motioned with his head for McLain to walk a little bit away with him.

"That mare is a fine-looking piece of horseflesh. Just look at her. Tall and strong, and full of piss and vinegar. Think of the foals you'd get by putting Rubio on her."

McLain thought and looked at the mare again. His eyes gleamed. "That's an idea, Roper. I'll buy her, but pick out some other nag for Victoria."

"Why not give this one to her? She's in love with the horse. She'd think a whole lot more of this one than any other horse here, and be more appreciative."

"You heard the man, the damn horse ain't good broke."

"Hell, that's no problem. I can have her settled down in a couple of weeks. All of them will need work with a sidesaddle anyway, before they'll be fit to ride."

McLain pursed his lips, watching the mare toss her head. Roper was right; that was a fine-looking animal. He almost rubbed his hands together in glee as he thought of the quality of foals she'd drop. He was going to buy that horse, but putting Victoria on her was something else.

"I don't know," he said. "Victoria's a lady, not a Mexican wench who'll throw her leg over a donkey. She might not be able to handle a horse like that."

Jake's eyes gleamed and he turned his head so McLain couldn't see. "Let me work with Mrs. McLain, and I'll have her the best damned horsewoman in the territory. Buy her one of those fancy riding habits like the women wear back East, and people all over will talk about her and that mare."

If there was anything that swayed McLain, it was the idea of someone else envying him. He laughed heartily and said, "By God, that would be a picture, wouldn't it? All right, Roper, you teach that mare some manners and my wife how to ride."

He'd said it loud enough for Victoria to hear, and she blanched. My God, what had Roper said to him? She already knew how to ride! There was no need for Roper to give her any lessons. But she didn't say anything, because the most important thing was that the Major was going to buy the mare. She had been fond of the horse she had regularly rode before the war, but something about this magnificent animal tugged at her. The mare was as fierce and arrogant as any stallion, not flashy, but confident in her own strength and speed. She had heart, and Victoria wanted to share in her freedom. When they got back to the ranch she would make it plain that she didn't need any riding lessons.

She was still exhausted from the bone-crushing journey, as they had only arrived in Santa Fe the day before. Moreover, they had been invited to a party at the governor's house that night. She needed both to rest and to escape from Roper's company. "It's getting late, Major. We need to return to the hotel to get dressed for the party."

The Major checked his watch and scowled. "Damn. I need to see someone this afternoon. Roper, escort the ladies back to the hotel. Garnet, you come with me."

She inhaled to voice a protest, then let her breath out with rueful acceptance. For whatever reason, fate was conspiring against her in her efforts to avoid Roper. All she could do was be so gracious that no one would suspect how his presence disturbed her.

His eyes gleamed dark green as he took her elbow in his right hand and Emma's in his left, as if he knew of her discomfort and enjoyed it. Celia danced along behind, beside, and in front of them, her bright presence masking Victoria's silence. Emma made the usual small talk, leading Victoria to wonder if no one but Roper saw her agitation. Did she hide it so well, even from Emma?

The hotel was three stories tall, and the Major had booked their rooms on the top floor so they wouldn't be bothered by the coming and going of the other guests. Emma and Celia shared a room next door to Victoria's room, and beyond that was the Major's. Victoria was devoutly thankful that there was no connecting door. She had slept better in the hotel room than she had since the day she'd been married.

Emma and Celia entered their room first, and Victoria firmly disengaged her arm from Roper's grip.

"Thank you for your escort, Mr. Roper," she said in polite dismissal as she retrieved her door key from her bag.

"You're very welcome, Mrs. McLain," he replied in solemn tones. He took the key from her and opened the door, then put his hand on her back and forcefully ushered her inside.

Victoria whirled to see him shutting the door and locking it again, from the inside. Her heart lurched as she faced him. "Please leave, now, and I won't say anything about this."

He took off his hat and ran his hand through his dark hair. "About what, Mrs. McLain?" he asked softly.

"About—this. Forcing your way into my room."

"Have I touched you? Insulted you? Kissed you?"

Her heartbeat was even faster now. Her palms were damp, and she put her hands behind her back. "No," she whispered. Something occurred to her, and she lifted her chin. "You're doing this for revenge, aren't you? Because I—I accidentally intruded the other night in the barn. I apologize, Mr. Roper. It was completely unintentional."

A corner of his mouth kicked up in a little smile. "You sure got an eyeful, didn't you? But you must have liked what you saw, because you didn't leave, you stood there until the end."

She blushed painfully, and he gave a low laugh. How could she explain that she'd been frozen, unable to move? She couldn't tell him how pain had lanced through her or how fiercely jealous she had been.

"I've got a deal to offer you," he said, watching her intently. "I won't say anything around the ranch about you watching me with Fiorina if you'll give me that kiss you're so terrified I'll take." He knew the risk he was running by being in her room, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity to have her to himself for just a few minutes. Let her start getting used to the idea that there was something between them, and accustom her to his lovemaking.

Now she went pale, and for a minute she felt as if she might faint. "You—you want me to kiss you?"

"Yes, ma'am, I do. I've never had a lady kiss me before. I want to know if you taste any different, if your lips are softer." He looked as if he were wickedly enjoying her agitation. "I want a long, slow, mouth to mouth kiss."

"I'm married!"

He shrugged. "So?"

So, indeed? She looked at him wildly. Did all men feel that way about the marriage vows? Her husband had broken his easily enough. Kissing Roper wouldn't be infidelity in act, but it would be in spirit. She thought of the distasteful way the Major had put his mouth on hers, but the thought of kissing Roper like that wasn't distasteful at all. It was deeply, primitively exciting and it frightened her because she should never even think such a thing, let alone act on it.

"I can't," she whispered.

He smiled again, and she shivered. "Oh, I think you can," he murmured, slowly advancing. "Just think of what the men would say if they knew you had watched. They'd get a real hoorah out of it, and they'd laugh every time they saw you."

She backed up a step. "Mr. Roper—"

"Jake."

"You don't know what you're asking of me. I—"

"I think I do." He moved again, his hand shooting out to catch her arm and prevent her from retreating further. "I'm asking you to kiss me the way a woman kisses a man. Nothing else. Just a kiss."

She couldn't believe how hot his hands were. If he were that warm all over, what would it feel like if he—She jerked her thoughts to a standstill, appalled at herself. She stared up at him.

"That's all?" she whispered. "Just a kiss."

"That's all."

"It's blackmail."

"Yes."

It was sinful and she knew it, but sin has been sweet from the beginning of time. The temptation to taste him was so powerful she was shaking with it, and it was forbidden. She was a respectable married lady; she should cleave only unto her husband—

—who cleaved unto any cheap slut who would have him.

She felt paralyzed, mesmerized. His eyes were glittering down at her, so close that she could see the tiny golden striations around the black iris, blending into forest green tinged with blue. She could feel his breath on her face and knew that, sin or not, she was going to let him kiss her.

His left hand slid around the small of her back and urged her closer. Immediately Victoria's hands flew up to clutch his biceps in faint alarm and protest, but she said nothing. The swell of his muscles under her palms left her unwillingly beguiled and weaker than she wanted to be.

He pulled her closer, inch by inch, until their bodies touched. Victoria inhaled a quick breath, shattering inside at the powerful intimacy of this simple contact. He was so warm and hard, his muscled body supporting hers; he held her so close that she could feel the buttons of his shirt digging into her breast, the buckle of his gunbelt cutting into her abdomen, and his strong thighs rubbing against hers through the fabric of her skirt and petticoats.

Her heart was slamming painfully against her rib cage as she waited, then he bent his head. His mouth, warm and firm, touched hers for a moment, then lifted. Was that all? She felt faint with relief that it had been as uncomplicated as that, though still very improper.

He frowned down at her. "Not like that."

"Like what?"

"That wasn't the kind of kiss I want."

She stared at him. "What other kind is there?"

He looked momentarily startled, then his eyes narrowed. It was possible, he realized. Women like her thought they should endure rather than participate. McLain certainly wasn't a man to make her realize she should enjoy it. Roper was going to enjoy making this aspect of her education about life in the West his responsibility.

He cupped her jaw in his right hand. "Open your mouth this time," he ordered.

She looked aghast. "Open my—"

He quickly took advantage of the opportunity and covered her parted lips with his own. She made a quick sound of panic in her throat and tried to jerk away from him, but he locked his arm around her waist.

Victoria stared up at him with wide, frightened eyes. She sensed violence in him, as if he wanted more from her and was determined to get it. He had said just a kiss; had she been a fool to believe it would stop at that? She pushed against his arms in a futile effort at escape.

His right hand tightened on her jaw and his hard fingers exerted heavy pressure on her chin. Against her will, she felt her clenched teeth part and suddenly his tongue was inside her mouth. Shocked, astounded, she froze, and in that moment of immobility she became aware of his mouth moving over hers, of the warm stroke of his tongue inside her mouth. A strange heat began moving through her body, weakening her so that she had to cling to his arms to even stand upright. Both the heat and the weakness were insidious, creeping through her to undermine both her determination to keep this under control and her certainty that she could. In his embrace, with his mouth on hers, she was certain of nothing but the growing upheaval of her senses. This pleasure was wicked, and increasingly seductive. Her eyes drifted shut.

She had expected to give him one kiss, but that wasn't what happened. His mouth returned to hers over and over again, and both of his arms were around her now, crushing her to him. If she had ever had control of this situation, it was gone now.

He could have done anything with her, and she would have been helpless to stop him. Only the abrupt intrusion of someone pounding on the door made him swiftly release her and step back.

Victoria swayed, and panic shot through her as she realized someone had caught Roper in her room with her. She went white. If it was the Major—She couldn't finish the thought, because it was too horrible to contemplate.

Roper moved swiftly to the door, his right hand on his pistol butt.

"Wait!" Victoria said in an agonized whisper.

He gave her a brief glance. "It's next door," he said sharply. "Some drunk is trying to get into your sister's room." He opened the door and stepped into the hall.

Victoria flew to the doorway just as Roper said, "You planning on beating that door down, Pledger?"

Victoria recognized the man, though she'd never spoken with him. He'd been surly all the way to Santa Fe, and the other men hadn't associated with him much. His eyes had the mean look of a vicious dog, and she had unconsciously avoided him. Too late she realized the mistake she was making in letting him see her with Roper.

He turned on Roper with a snarl, but when his gaze lit on Victoria his lips twisted into a nasty smile. "I do declare," he mocked. "Playing patty-cake with the boss's wife? Bet he'd be real interested to know that, wouldn't you say?"

Jake considered the situation, and his eyes narrowed. It couldn't be much better, just him and Pledger facing each other. He could kill the bastard now just as well as later. Now that he'd sent the telegram to Ben and his brother was on his way, there was really no reason to wait. In fact, there was no way he could let Pledger walk away, not after he'd seen Jake come out of Victoria's room.

Smiling a little, Jake moved closer to the man. "Why don't you go to the saloon and hire a whore to scratch your itch," he suggested softly. "Leave the ladies alone."

Pledger hooted. "Just like you did, Roper? I've always wanted me some of that refined stuff. You just go back to diddlin' the boss's wife, and I'll try out that purty little sister, and neither of us will say nothin' about the other. How about that, pard?" He sneered and spat on the floor at Roper's feet.

Roper was smiling. Victoria saw it only from the side, just a small curl of the lips, but it chilled her. She stood in the doorway, watching with a sort of horrified fascination.

Jake's walk was easy and relaxed, so relaxed that Pledger didn't react until it was too late. "Stop right there," he said, and moved his hand toward his gun butt. Just as the last word left his mouth Jake kicked him between the legs, holding back just enough on the kick that Pledger wasn't felled. As it was, he sagged to the side, gagging as he grabbed his crotch.

Pledger straightened painfully, his eyes wild in a white face. "You son of a bitch," he said, and grabbed for his gun.

He had just cleared leather when Jake's first slug punched a hole in his chest and slammed him backward against the wall. Reflex jerked Pledger's finger on the trigger and for the second time the narrow hall shuddered from the thunder of gunfire. Pledger's bullet went through the floor and lodged in a wall on the second story.

His eyes, already glazing, were full of hate as he slid sideways to the floor.

Jake held him in his sights, hammer already cocked back again. If Pledger so much as twitched, the second slug would be between his eyes. No way was he going to live to say as much as a single word to anyone.

But Pledger's last breath sighed out of him as his pants stained with the release of his bladder. Jake eased the hammer down on his gun.

Emma and Celia had been too frightened to open their door before, but the sound of gunfire followed by that immense silence stirred Emma to action. She jerked the door open and stared in confusion at Roper, then down at Pledger. "Oh, God," she said.

Celia's frightened face poked out beside her, and the girl's beautiful eyes rounded with shock when she saw Pledger's body.

Jake turned his head and looked at Victoria, who was still frozen in the doorway. Their eyes met, his hard and green, hers almost gray with shock. In that moment she was more frightened of him than she had been of Pledger.

They had no time to say anything. Booted feet were running up the stairs, and a crowd of men erupted upward into the narrow hall. Jake punched out the empty shell and replaced it, then returned the pistol to its holster. He looked remarkably unconcerned as people crowded around, overlapping questions with comments.

One man nudged Pledger's boot with his own. "Ugly son of a bitch. Who was he?" Then he noticed the three women standing there and swallowed. "Beg yer pardon, ladies."

None of the women seemed to have noticed. Victoria was still staring at Jake, her face white. Jake reached out and took Emma by the arm, bending down to talk low in her ear. "Take Mrs. McLain back into her room. She saw the whole thing, and she looks a mite shocked."

Emma looked swiftly at Victoria, then back to Jake and nodded. "Help me with Victoria," she said to Celia. Victoria found herself taken in hand and ushered back into her room, the door firmly closed on the ugly scene in the hallway.

She sat down and folded her hands in her lap, holding herself inside. She felt numb. A man had just been killed in front of her, and despite all she had seen during the war, nothing had been as brutal as that. Jake had been so… casual about it, as if the taking of a life was nothing to him. And the smile on his face still made her shiver in reaction.

Celia sank down onto the floor and put her head in Victoria's lap. The girl was shocked and silent.

Automatically Victoria smoothed the bright blond hair, as she had been doing since Celia's childhood. Emma sat down on the bed, as quiet as Victoria.

"Did you hear what he said?" Victoria asked.

"Some." Enough, Emma thought, to know that Jake Roper had been in this room with Victoria. Enough to know that Roper had had to kill Pledger to keep him silent. Not that she thought for one minute that Victoria had betrayed her marriage vows; for one thing, there hadn't been time, and for another, Victoria was too inherently honorable.

But Jake had in fact been in here alone with her, and Emma had accurately pegged the Major as a mean, violent, petty man who would, she was afraid, judge Victoria by his own standards—which was to say, none at all. For Victoria's sake, Emma was prepared to back whatever story Jake offered.

Fifteen minutes later the Major and Garnet arrived, having been fetched from a saloon by a breathless youngster with the news that there'd been a shooting at the hotel and the Major's wife was involved. The boy hadn't known anything other than that garbled message. They had both been on their way upstairs with a couple of the saloon's soiled doves, and the Major was in a foul mood from the interruption.

"That's two of our men you've killed, Roper," Garnet said, eyeing the tall, muscular man before him with suspicion.

Jake shrugged. "He went for his gun first. A man braces me, I don't ask if he's serious or just funning."

"You say he drew first." Garnet's eyes were alive with hate.

McLain looked from one hired gun to the other, his eyes wary. He had remained alive because he was shrewd if not intelligent, and Garnet's suspicious attitude alerted him. Fights were common among a bunch of men, but Roper was killing men with whom he was supposed to be working. It did make a man stop and wonder.

"Garnet's got a point," McLain said, eyeing Roper closely. "There any witnesses?"

"Mrs. McLain saw the whole thing." Jake sounded bored. "Ask her."

"I'll do that." McLain stomped to Victoria's door and slammed his heavy fist on it. "Victoria!"

Emma snatched it open, and the three men entered. Celia rose from the floor and Victoria got to her feet, too. She was still pale, and she didn't look at Jake.

"Roper says Pledger drew on him first. Is that so?" McLain growled.

Victoria clenched her cold hands in her skirts. "Mr. Pledger went for his weapon first, yes."

"What I want to know is what you and Pledger were doing up here," Garnet said.

Suspicion darkened the Major's face. Steeling herself, Victoria lifted her chin. "Mr. Roper walked us back to the hotel, at the Major's request."

"I'd seen them to their rooms and gone back down to the lobby when I saw Pledger slip in, like he was trying to be sneaky." Jake took a tobacco pouch out of his pocket and leisurely rolled a cigarette. "I followed him, found him up here trying to break into Miss Emma and Miss Celia's room. Don't guess I have to tell you why. I tried to get him to go back downstairs with me, but he refused and went for his gun."

"You saw this?" McLain asked, cutting his eyes to Victoria.

"Yes." She agreed to the lie with her own. She didn't look at Jake.

McLain looked at Emma. "Is that true? Was Pledger trying to get into your room?"

At least Emma didn't need to lie. "He was beating on the door and saying… ugly things. We were afraid to open it."

Jake lounged back against the doorjamb, his eyes narrowed to sleepy slits as he surveyed the others. "I did what I had to do to protect the women. That's what you wanted, isn't it, Major?"

"Of course," McLain snapped.

"Then what's the problem?"

"I'll tell you what the problem is," Garnet said, stepping closer. "The problem is you killing two of our oldest hands. Pledger and Charlie Guest had been with the ranch for years."

Jake smiled. It was the same expression Victoria had seen just before he'd killed Pledger. "I could always make it three," he suggested in a silky tone.

"That's enough damn killing!" McLain yelled. "Back off, Garnet. It riles me to lose Pledger, but I sure as hell don't want my two best men killing each other over him."

"Sure, boss." Garnet stepped back, but his expression remained hate-filled.

Jake wasn't surprised that Garnet had backed off so easily; face-to-face wasn't his style.

McLain put on his best smile. "The party tonight will be just the thing to make you ladies forget about this," he said. "The governor can't wait to meet you, since word's out that I have the three prettiest women in the territory. Every man in Santa Fe will be trying to dance with you tonight."

Victoria seized desperately on that excuse. "My goodness, I'd forgotten about the party! We'll have to hurry. Run along, gentlemen—" She made little shooing gestures with her hands. "Oh, Major, could you have the hotel send up hot water to both rooms?"

"Of course, my dear." He patted her on the cheek. "Dress up in your fanciest dress—give these yokels something to gawk at."

When the three women were alone again, Victoria visibly sagged. "I don't know if I can bear even the thought of a party," she said in a stifled voice. "Dear God." But she forced herself to straighten and took deep breaths to compose herself. "I suppose we'll have to go and make the best of it. Celia, dear, are you all right?"

"Yes." Celia looked unusually grave, but her dark blue eyes were steady. "Jake had to kill him, to protect us. I'm not sorry."

Victoria felt sick. Yes, Jake had killed to protect, but had he done it for Emma and Celia, or to conceal his own indiscretion with Victoria?

There was a hardness in him that terrified her, yet she was inexplicably drawn to him. Try as she might to avoid him, fate kept twisting their lives together, forcing them to share sordid secrets that created an unwilling intimacy between them, and now they were sharing lies.

Yet she had stood in his arms and let him kiss her in a way so improper and shattering that she could scarcely bear to think about it. She was another man's wife! To do what she had done had been betrayal, but at the time she had gloried in it. She had enjoyed the scent and taste of him, the feel of his strongly muscled body against her, thrilled to the power of his arms.

She had even dreamed of him. And that was, perhaps, an even greater betrayal.