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  He let her lead him to a long bench outside two massive doors. All his life everywhere he’d been had been small: his uncles’ small cabin, the jail cells, the one-room school. For the first time ever, indoors he felt like he could stand tall and breathe without using up too much air.

  She sat next to him, almost touching. “We need to get things clear between us. I’m aware that I may have tricked you into this but I want to be fair now. You’ve done no less than save my life.”

  He nodded, aware that she was leaning into him. “It seemed the only way out for us both.” He didn’t bother to add that she hadn’t given him much choice in the matter.

  She nodded her agreement, then whispered, “My father has consumption. His lungs are filling with blood, so we can’t stay long. Only a minute. Last year he moved into his study because the stairs got too much for him.” She looked down at Michael’s fingers, still laced in hers. “I’m not close to him. When I was little, he was never around. I thought he hated me. I wasn’t much of a consideration in his world.”

  Michael found it hard to believe she wouldn’t be loved. She was rich. She had a grand home. Hell, she even had him for the asking.

  She continued, “My mother was French and never really fit in here in Texas. I guess he thought I never would either, because most of the time I was home from school he managed to be somewhere else. When my mother died, it was like he wished I’d disappear. I remember one Christmas at the school he sent me to, he forgot to send someone after me. I ate Christmas dinner with the sisters and, of course, there were no presents allowed.”

  He closed his hand around hers. He’d never received one gift for birthday or Christmas, but he found himself feeling sorry for her. Little angels in white should have presents to open.

  She met his gaze. “Promise me, for the time we’re pretending, you’ll never be cruel to me.”

  “I promise,” he said, “only we’re not pretending. We are married. I’ll try to be a good husband, and when I leave, you’ll have this place for you and your baby if one grows inside you.”

  One tear drifted down her cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ll owe you a great debt. Is there nothing you ask?”

  He closed his eyes and leaned the back of his head against the wall. Finally, he formed the words. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to touch you now and then.” He lifted his hand as if showing her an example. “I mean you no harm, but I’ve never been near anyone so fine.”

  She frowned. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “No,” he said, surprised.

  She pouted, then shrugged. “I’m a fallen woman about to trick my father, who is on his deathbed. I’ve been used and tossed away by one man, which makes me worthless, and I never plan to have another. If all you want to do is hold my hand or brush my cheek, I’d say that’s a fair enough price for risking your life.”

  To his surprise, she frowned. “I must tell you, though, I don’t like to be touched. It’s not something I’m used to. My father never touched me. The nuns never touched me, and the one man who did touch me hurt me. You’d probably be doing me a favor, making me a little less jumpy around men. So touch all you like.”

  “I’ll not hurt you,” he added, trying to figure out if she truly meant what she said. “And I’ve already touched you, when I started to remove your necklace and again when I put my hand around your neck.”

  She smiled. “For a murder attempt, it was rather gentle.”

  They both laughed and for the first time he thought this scheme of hers might work. She’d have her land, his uncles would have their loot without fear of jail, and he’d have a memory of a time when he’d been allowed close to perfection.

  A few minutes passed before the huge wooden door opened and an old doctor limped out. “You can see him.” He shook his head. “I had to ask twice before he’d agree to see you. He doesn’t seem to want to use up what little energy he has left.”

  She stepped past the doctor. Michael followed.

  The room was huge and built to impress. Against long windows, a massive desk stood on a platform one step up so that whoever sat behind would be eye level with anyone standing. Books lined the walls into a seating area big enough to hold a full-sized bed. There, a man rested, his dark weathered skin contrasting against the white sheets.

  Michael stared at Duke Camanez. Somehow, Michael thought he would have been bigger, but he looked small beneath the covers.

  “Father,” Cozette whispered as she stepped closer. “Father. I’ve brought my husband to meet you.”

  The dying man’s eyes opened slowly. He looked at his only child with a cold, uncaring gaze. “You look more like your mother every day, child, and are just as worthless, I’m sure.”

  Then, without expecting her to respond, he looked at Michael. “So, you married her. She’s no more than a bit of a girl, not strong enough to bear many children, I fear.” Camanez coughed and blood trailed out of the corner of his mouth. “My condolences. She’s made of lies and lace, you know.”

  “I know.” Michael smiled as if he thought Duke Camanez was telling a joke. He’d heard of the rancher—everyone within five hundred miles had heard of the man who ruled his ranch like his own private kingdom.

  Michael offered his hand and was surprised when the frail man took it.

  “You’re a fool who fell for her beauty,” Camanez said in a whisper. “I can’t blame you, son, I once fell myself.” He took time to breathe, then continued, “Keep her pregnant if you can and don’t give in to her tricks. Maybe she’ll give birth to sons who will run this ranch one day. I pray they get your build and not hers.” He coughed, then added as he fought to breathe, “Try not to run the place into the ground before you pass it on to my grandsons.”

  Michael had no idea what to say. Camanez’s hand slipped from his as the old man’s body shook from a round of coughing.

  A nurse moved from the shadows and put her arm around him as she wiped away blood dripping from his chin.

  The doctor mumbled as he pushed them toward the door. “Don’t come back until tonight. I’m giving him enough laudanum to let him rest the day away. I fear you’ve excited him, doing him more harm than good.”

  As soon as they were outside the door, Cozette straightened as if she’d been slapped hard and was refusing to cower. “I’ll be right back,” she said and disappeared down a hallway. A moment later he heard her feet tapping up a wooden staircase just out of sight.

  He didn’t know if he should follow. Was she upset, hurt, or embarrassed at what her father had said? Or, he reasoned, could it be morning sickness?

  Michael returned to the entrance hall, noticing the sunrise shining bright across twenty-foot windows. It crossed his mind that it would take a dozen suns to lighten the sorrow in this house. He’d never considered himself as knowing much about women, but compared to Duke Camanez, he was a knight. If he hadn’t heard the words he never would have believed a father could be so cruel to his only child. Apparently, he saw her as only a means to grandsons. His only chance that his blood would continue to own the ranch he called San Louise.

  His uncles stood a foot inside the door looking as out of place as pigs in a parade. To their credit, they had tried to clean up. Their faces and hands were washed and they’d slicked back their dirty hair. He thought of Mrs. Peters back at the school near the prison. She probably would have taken one look at these three and had them planted in the dirt in hopes that whatever sprouted might be cleaner.

  He joined them as they surveyed the place.

  “We could take a dozen of these candleholders and they’d never miss them,” Joseph whispered.

  Michael glared at all three. “Rule two. Don’t take anything,” he said softly and all three nodded.

  He watched them move around the room, staring at every piece of furniture or painting as if they were appraising its value. Strangers began to come down the stairs and from the hallway where his part-time wife had disappeared. They hung in small group
s like travelers at a train station showing little interest in people around them.

  Michael guessed some were employees, some might be relatives, but he had no idea if they were holding a death watch or waiting for a wedding. If he had to define their look, it would be curiosity more than sadness or joy.

  Five minutes later, they all turned and watched Cozette slowly come down the steps. The feeling that she was too beautiful to be real crossed his mind and he considered the possibility that this was all one long dream. When he’d first begun to read, he’d dreamed that the places and people in books were real, but he’d seen no evidence of it until now.

  She played a role before him she must have been born to play. She greeted the sleepy guests who were down the stairs and the cowboys stepping inside, their hats in hand, with the same graceful smiles and comments.

  Only one, an older man in black, looked like he hadn’t been asleep. He stormed down the stairs glaring at Cozette, then searched the room until his gaze settled on Michael.

  Michael knew if looks could kill he’d be dead.

  Before being introduced, he had no doubt this was her uncle, Raymond Camanez. The man who would have inherited everything if she hadn’t married.

  Raymond said something sharp to her as she made the introduction, then glared at Michael as if he knew something was wrong but couldn’t quite see the flaw. Then, like a storm breaking, his features cleared. Cozette’s uncle Raymond took a step toward Michael, offering his hand.

  When Michael took the man’s hand, Raymond pulled him close and whispered, “You’re a walking dead man for tricking me out of this ranch.”

  Michael stared as the older man pulled away smiling as if he’d just wished them well.

  Cozette had moved away, probably to stay out of reach of her uncle. Michael could find no words to answer the threat, but he planned to keep watch. He might not know much about women, but he’d seen enough evil men to know one on sight.

  The priest arrived and offered a blessing to the house. Then women came from the kitchen with huge trays of food. The ranch hands began to take their seats along a dining table long enough to hold two dozen people.

  Cozette moved toward Michael. “You’ll sit at the head of the table,” she whispered. “I’ll sit at the other end.”

  “No.” Michael shook his head. “This is our wedding breakfast. You should stay at my side.” He moved to the head of the table and pulled a chair from the wall.

  She gave him a puzzled look, then smiled as if proud he was willing to play his part.

  As they ate, Cozette introduced him to a few of the hands and they made more introductions. By the time breakfast was over, he could call most of the men by name and, surprisingly, they treated him with respect.

  Cozette explained that he’d ridden for four days to get to her and made a joke about how he’d look far better when he got cleaned up.

  Michael didn’t miss how the men seemed to ignore Raymond Camanez when he stood. He was no longer their boss and every man on the ranch knew it.

  The trouble was, Michael wasn’t sure he would be up for the job. He could ride and shoot fairly well, but he knew nothing about running a ranch.

  He glanced at Cozette and saw a brush of fear shadow her eyes as well. If they didn’t pull this off, he didn’t want to think about what might happen.

  Her hand was icy when he closed his fingers around hers and stood, pulling her up with him. “If you will excuse us, gentlemen, I’d like to take a few minutes to get reacquainted with my wife.”

  They all laughed and mumbled low comments, but Michael didn’t care. “Let’s make this believable,” he said only for her to hear a moment before he swept her up.

  “Good day, gentlemen!” He laughed as they shouted while he started toward the stairs.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder.

  Lowering a kiss on her cheek, he whispered, “Which way?”

  “Up,” she answered, her lips touching his. “All the way to the back of the hallway.”

  A cheer went up from the men behind them and Michael paused on the steps long enough to finish the kiss she’d started. The rest of this job he’d signed on for might be frightening, but her lips tasted like heaven.

  When he finally let her breathe, her cheeks were rose colored with embarrassment, but she smiled up at him. Without a word he carried her up and set her gently on her feet once they were out of sight of those below.

  She moved to the waiting maid and gave instructions in a low tone. The maid nodded and hurried away without looking up at Michael.

  When they were alone, Cozette opened the last door on the left of the hallway. “My uncle took the first room when he came here after my father had moved downstairs. It’s the biggest bedroom. He didn’t know that my parents’ rooms were always the last rooms.”

  She walked into a warm room done in colors of the earth and bathed in sunshine. Michael didn’t want to act the fool, but he had a hard time keeping his mouth from dropping. He’d never seen such a room. Books lined two walls, and the view beyond the window panes seemed endless.

  He glanced back at his uncles thundering up the stairs, Uncle Abe still eating. Before he could say anything, Cozette stepped in front of him and pointed. “Gentlemen, you’ll find your rooms being readied in the guesthouses off the garden.”

  “We get a room?” Abe mumbled. “We’d be fine in the barn.”

  “No,” she insisted. “You’re family now. I’ve asked for baths and fresh clothes to be sent to your rooms.”

  “But . . .”

  Michael didn’t know if they were thinking of the rule to never leave her, or dreading the bath, but he said, “I’ll watch over my wife, you three do as she says. We all could use a few hours of sleep.”

  They weren’t about to argue with the woman who saved their lives. They all nodded and hurried back down the stairs.

  Michael turned to her. “When I’m not close, I want one of them with you at all times. If for any reason I have to be gone, one will be sleeping in this hallway outside your door.”

  She walked back into what had been her father’s room. “That’s not necessary.”

  “I saw the way your uncle looked at us. I insist.”

  “Already being bossy. I don’t like rules.”

  Michael hesitated, feeling like he might step a foot too far in any direction and be in quicksand. “I’ll go along with however you want to play this except where your safety is concerned. Fair enough?”

  “Fair enough.” She moved to the windows, her black hair shining in the sunlight.

  For the first time he thought he saw her relax a bit. She trusted him. It made no sense, but somehow he had the feeling that the only person for miles she believed in was him, the outlaw who tried to frighten her last night.

  “This is not your room,” he guessed, for there was nothing feminine about the space.

  “No,” she answered, opening a panel he thought might open into the hall. Only it led to a bathing room larger than most hotel rooms he’d seen. She crossed the tile and opened another door. “This is my room.” The end of the hallway had been closed in to connect the rooms.

  Michael smiled. It looked exactly like what he would imagine her room would look like. She didn’t have the tall windows or the walls of books, but she had a fireplace and comfortable chairs in an alcove, where she could spend quiet mornings. Her colors were in the earthtones of spring.

  “I keep both my doors locked whenever I’m in my room and I’ll tap on the bathroom door before entering in case you’re bathing.”

  “Fair enough.” He tried to act like he understood. The room she’d called the “bathing room” was almost the size of his uncles’ entire house.

  Three maids banged their way into the bathing room, causing Michael to take one step into her quarters. “What’s going on?”

  “They’re getting your bath ready. I asked them to lay out extra shaving equipment. By the time you�
�ve finished, we’ll have a few trouser lengths let out and jackets aired. There should be something waiting on your bed that will fit you.”

  “I have my own clothes.” He looked down. His trousers and shirt might have been bought off the shelf at the mercantile, but they were the best he’d ever owned and not more than a week dirty.

  “You’re my husband. By marrying me you now own one of the biggest ranches in Texas. I can help run the ranch, but you’ll need to look the part.”

  “We need to talk.” He began unbuttoning his shirt. “As soon as I’ve followed your orders and had my bath, I need to know more about this ranch if I’m going to be of any use.”

  She smiled, her hands on her hips, her eyes watching his hands as they worked the buttons. “I’ll be waiting in my room with a hot cup of tea and maps of the ranch when you’re ready.” She blushed when she noticed he was watching her watch him.

  She closed her door and he wasn’t surprised to hear the lock click. He kicked the other door closed with his boot and stripped off his clothes. She might think he understood her, but he felt like they were barely speaking the same language.

  An hour later, he looked in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize himself. His hair was clean and combed back, his clothes probably cost more than he’d ever made in his life all put together, and his boots, though too tight, were fine leather with tooling along the sides. It seemed unbelievable that people kept such clothes around for guests who might need them.

  He tapped on her door. After a moment, he heard the lock give and she stood before him in a white blouse and midnight blue riding skirt. If possible, with her hair down and her boots disappearing into her skirt, she looked even more beautiful.

  “Come in, sir.” She grinned. “You sure do clean up nice. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were born to wear those clothes.”

  He had no idea what to say. He couldn’t think of a compliment for her that wouldn’t make him sound like a fool.

  “How does everything fit?” she asked as she moved to the seating area.

  “The boots are too small, but someone came in the bathing room and stole my clothes and boots while I was dressing.”