My purposely indifferent tone had the effect wanted.
“Damnation! Of course I’m not afraid of him! An illiterate, half-breed gunman, with barely enough intelligence to follow orders… and you’ll see that for yourself too, soon enough!” Mark began unhooking my gown, and his voice became almost feverish. “Yes—we’ll use him, and the blind hate he has for my uncle—his own killer instincts. And he won’t even guess it! When Lucas Cord is the one to kill Todd Shannon there won’t be a person in the whole territory who won’t think it was done out of revenge. And in his turn, he’ll die for it! There’ll be no more reminders, nothing left to come between us. And it will happen soon—very soon, my darling.” Mark laughed triumphantly. He went on, his words slightly slurred, “I think that you must be the one to suggest it to him. After all, he gave his word that he would follow your orders. And I will arrange for just the right opportunity. Nothing will go wrong this time! Don’t you see the subtle irony of it all?”
This time, Mark had said. What had he meant? Was it possible that… but no, I must not start thinking along those lines yet. I still had a part to play. It was all I could do to control my expression, to force a faint smile as I met his bloodshot eyes in the mirror.
“You’re even cleverer than I had already suspected, Mark. But when is all this to happen?”
“Soon.” He mumbled the word, and I realized, with a feeling of relief, that he was more inebriated than I had thought. He swayed against me as he bent his head to kiss my bare shoulder, and it was all I could do not to shudder.
“Soon,” he repeated, his hands cupping my breasts. “There’s no reason to wait any longer! We’ll leave here very early in the morning, the day after tomorrow. You’re well enough now to travel, aren’t you?”
Fortunately for my state of mind, the most I had to suffer that night was a few drunken caresses. It was not difficult to persuade Mark that it was my turn to undress him tonight, if he would only help me by lying down, and no sooner had he done so than he fell into a drunken stupor. I took off his boots, and let him continue to sleep as he was, lying as far away from him as possible when I finally went to bed myself. But before I turned out the lamp, I could not help turning to look at Mark’s sleeping face. How handsome and almost boyish he looked, in spite of his flushed cheeks and slack mouth. Was it possible that this was the same man I had once thought of as my dearest friend? Had I really pitied him, and blamed myself for using him?
But how clever Mark had been, how infinitely patient! I had begun to trust him completely, until one by one his lies and deceptions had been revealed—with a logical explanation for each one. And my mind had accepted what was presented to me as evidence. I had despised my instincts, disdained the pull of my emotions. Oh, God, why? Because Lucas was no lawyer, and had been too stubborn to answer to my accusations with excuses and “reasonable” explanations? How easy and how convenient to blame a man already branded an outlaw and a murderer with other crimes. And Mark—it came to me suddenly that all along it had been Mark who had subtly, certainly pointed out to me all the evidence that supposedly showed Lucas’s guilt. Yes, and it had been Mark too, in just as subtle a way, who had contrived to make me see his uncle as a selfish, domineering man, even while he pretended to defend him. How could I have been so blind? Why had I let myself be trapped?
I didn’t have to feign the headache I used as an excuse to lie abed late the next morning. I had only to study my face in the mirror later to see how pale it looked, with the dark smudges under my eyes testifying to the sleepless night I had spent. I grimaced at my reflection as I began to pin my hair up with slow, lethargic movements. I was becoming an accomplished actress. This morning I had put off Mark’s expressed concern by snapping irritably that he had kept me awake half the night with his tossing and turning, and he had left me with an apology, announcing that he had promised to ride out with John Kingman to see to arrangements for our journey the next day.
No, I had not felt ready to face Mark yet; I was relieved that I would be spared his presence until later in the afternoon. I was beginning, slowly and painfully, to realize the full extent of the folly I had committed in marrying Mark. I was Mrs. Mark Shannon. I had given up not only my name, but my freedom as well. And what on earth are you going to do now? My pale reflection gave me back no answers. I might almost have been looking at a stranger’s face that was far too thin, a haunted expression in the eyes.
The cheerful maid who was dusting the living room told me that Monique was out on the sun porch, where she could usually be found at this time of the day, a pitcher of iced tea beside her. “I’m lazy!” Monique admitted cheerfully. “I would like nothing better than to lie out here all day and sleep…”
But this morning, in spite of the oppressive heat, she was certainly not sleeping. I heard her gay laughter as I pushed open the door and stepped out onto the porch, my eyes blinking as they accustomed themselves to the sunlight.
Monique was not alone; clad in a cream silk shirt and a tightly fitting pair of leather riding breeches, she was perched on the wooden railing, one leg swinging as she smiled into the face of her companion. And he—did he have to be sitting so close to her that their shoulders touched? Before they noticed me I had time to observe that Lucas had shaved off his beard and trimmed his hair, leaving thick sideburns that came almost to his jawline. I could see the cleft in his cheek deepen as he smiled at something Monique had said. He looked younger and more carefree than I had ever seen him, his checked cotton shirt open at the neck to reveal a carelessly knotted blue bandanna, and I was shaken by a rush of love and desire that left me weak.
The next moment, when Monique put her hand on his arm, I was ragingly jealous. Now I understood how some women could threaten to scratch a rival’s eyes out. I would dearly have liked to rake my nails down the smooth skin of Monique’s face!
I deliberately let the door bang shut behind me, and was glad that the sound made Monique start. “Oh, Rowena! I didn’t think you’d be awake so early! Have you eaten anything yet? Would you care for a glass of iced tea?”
Lucas, his eyes crinkling at the corners, had come to his feet with an easy, casual movement, and the angry thought flashed through my mind, as he put his hands on either side of Monique’s waist to help her down, that he had learned some manners somewhere after all, even if he had never bothered to show me such consideration!
He had been smiling at Monique. Why did his eyes have to take on such a guarded look as soon as he looked at me? Even his husky voice held a slight trace of mockery as he acknowledged my presence. “Mornin’… ma’am.”
“Good morning,” I said coldly, and saw Monique’s eyes flash from one to the other of us with a wickedly amused expression.
“Lucas, mon cher, will you bring a chair for Rowena? Oui, that one, by the door. Sitting on that railing would ruin her pretty gown.” The subtly caressing tone in which she spoke irritated me almost as much as Lucas’s exaggerated politeness did. I found myself gritting my teeth when Lucas obeyed her without a murmur, without even offering to lift me up to sit on the wide railing as they had done.
Just as if she had not noticed my silence, Monique continued chattering unconcernedly.
“We have already been riding, Lucas and I. But it became far too hot, and I have so much to do, to prepare for our journey tomorrow.” She gave me an inquiring look. “Did Mark tell you?”
I tried not to notice that Lucas had resumed his original seat on the railing, his back against one of the wooden roof supports, one foot on the floor for balance.
“Only that we will be leaving tomorrow.” I wanted suddenly to go to Lucas and run my fingers through his thick, dark hair—making him notice me, making him want me. He was bareheaded, the sun turning his hair bronze and gold. And when his face did not look sullen or angry, and he smiled, I could understand why so many other women, even Monique, had wanted him. With an effort, I took my mind back to what Monique was saying.
“…but how like a man! They never tell us anything. Of course I am desolée that John will have to stay behind, but perhaps such a long journey might have its consolations too, do you not agree?” She looked directly at Lucas, the glow in her green eyes almost predatory. How could any man not keep his eyes on her vivid, openly inviting beauty? Her auburn hair glowed richly, with a fire of its own; and as usual, it was obvious she had worn nothing under the thin blouse, with far too many buttons undone.
I said abruptly, “Where are we going?” and they both looked at me.
Again it was Monique who answered. “We should make camp just outside San Antonio tomorrow night. A very small and dusty town, not far from Socorro.” Did I only imagine it, or did she glance obliquely and somehow significantly at Lucas again? “And after that,” she went on, “we will have to cross the desert for a while, until we arrive at a certain place, close to Carizozo, where Montoya will meet us with the rest of his men. From there… but you know the rest, Rowena. You’ve listened to all our plans.” With a laugh, she stretched her arms over her head. “Rowena doesn’t think we will succeed. Perhaps, Lucas, you can convince her that we cannot fail!”
I could hardly believe that she intended to leave me alone with Lucas, after the bold way she had been flirting with him, but she did.
“I have much packing to do. And if I leave you two alone for a short time, you would not mind too much, I think?”
Meeting Lucas’s eyes, I was hardly aware when the door closed behind her, or which of us moved first. I forgot that only minutes before I had been jealous. His
arms held me, I felt his lips against my temple, and I no longer resisted the instincts I had once decried as wanton. I slipped my hands under his shirt, and felt the muscles of his back move under my fingers. I heard myself say, “I wanted to kill Monique. And you too. I must be going mad.”