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  Tears ran hotly down her cheeks, into the corners of his mouth. He tasted their salty warmth and drew back to look at her.

  "Why?" he asked gently, wiping them with his fingers.

  "I never dreamed you could love me," she sobbed.

  He smiled tenderly. "You're as blind as I was, aren't you, little one?" he whispered.

  "I must be. Turk, am I dreaming?" she asked.

  He bent his head. "Let's see."

  Seconds later, he could barely breathe at all. He groaned against her mouth and pulled her even closer, his hands low on her waist, possessive as he fought the need that aroused him to fever pitch.

  "We.. .mustn't," she whispered unsteadily.

  He wasn't listening. His mind was on Katy, on feeding the hunger that gnawed at his insides.

  A sudden, sharp noise echoed from the house, and Turk's head jerked up. He glanced toward the darkened windows as the sound came again. He began to chuckle.

  "What is it?" Katy asked dazedly.

  "Just a little reassurance that we don't have to worry about interruptions," he said enigmatically. He caught his breath, watching her possessively while she flushed with the memory of her headlong response. "No more looking behind us, Katy," he said softly. "Only ahead. All right?"

  She nodded. "If you're sure..."

  "Oh, I'm sure,"he whispered, bending again toward her mouth. He kissed her gently, so that things didn't get out of hand again, and released her. "Go back inside. We'll talk some more tomorrow. But we're getting married Friday, just the same."

  "You arrogant cowboy," she said, with exasperation.

  He tipped his hat. "Yes, ma'am." He took her arm and pro­pelled her toward the back door and into the kitchen. "Now, you go to bed..."

  His voice trailed off at the sight of Cole in a long, thick robe heating up chocolate on the stove.

  "What the hell are you two doing outside at this hour?" Cole demanded.

  Turk pursed his lips. "Nothing anymore," he said. "Too much noise out there."

  Cole actually flushed. Katy looked from one man to the other uncomprehendingly. Masculine secrets, she supposed.

  "Good night, then," she said softly, smiling at Turk before she went out and closed the door.

  Both men said good night, but Cole waited until the door was closed and footsteps were dying away before he jumped down Turk's throat.

  "I only meant we heard the slats falling," Turk assured him in mid-tirade, "and Katy didn't even know what it was. So save your vocabulary for the cowboys, if you please. I'm shocked by such language."

  "Shocked by it? My God! You invented half of it in France!"

  "I'm reformed. I'm going to marry your sister and have kids."

  Cole relented. "I guess you want my blessing," he said, taking the hot chocolate off the stove and filling two mugs with it.

  "Not especially," Turk said with maddening imperturbability. "I'm going to marry Katy. You can try to stop me if you feel lucky."

  The other man chuckled. "Good for you."

  "I'll take good care of her,"Turk said solemnly. "And I love her, if that matters."

  "I knew that when you braced Wardell in the cafe," Cole replied dryly. "Takes some kind of guts to confront a man like that."

  "He's not so tough. Not when it comes to Katy. I don't like him," he added firmly. "But I guess I'm grateful for what he did for her."

  "I felt rather sorry for him," Cole said quietly. "What we have, he'll never know."

  Turk was silent for a long moment. "I want to buy that land on the bottoms from you and build on it. Katy will want her own house."

  "You can have the land," Cole said. "I'll make you a wedding present of it."

  "I'm overwhelmed,"Turk replied, and meant it. "But how can you afford to do that when you've in over your head already?"

  "I got a loan." Cole grinned. "I'll make it now.. .You wait and see."

  "Oh, I know how you are when you set your mind to something." Turk nodded. "I won't bet against you." He glanced at the hot chocolate and lifted an eyebrow. "Midnight snack?"

  "Something of that kind. Aren't you leaving?" Cole asked as he picked up the mugs.

  "I guess so."Turk sighed. "Well, good night."

  "Sleep well."

  "I don't think it would do much good to return the sentiment," Turk answered as he opened the back door. "You need to bolt those damned slats down."

  Cole's eyes flashed, but before he could get the words out,Turk was safely out of range, still chuckling.

  Christmas morning dawned cold and fair, and just after the regular worship service in the small church in Spanish Flats, Katy was married to Turk with the whole congregation beaming approvingly at them. In her long white dress with its high lace collar and satin train, a white Spanish mantilla covering her face that Turk lifted reverently to kiss her, she was beautiful. Turk told her so, several times, when they danced at the house where a small reception was held.

  Marion Whitehall was blossoming in the affectionate atmo­sphere around her, and with the emotional turmoil reduced to a bare minimum, she was settling physically into a much less strained routine. Her health had improved to the point that her doctor even dared extend his fatal prognosis to a stretch of years, if Marion were careful. Indeed she would be, and now she had grandchil­dren to look forward to.

  Faye hadn't come to celebrate with them, but Christmas was special all the same. They ate a hearty dinner of turkey and ham, and exchanged presents. Lacy's, from Cole, was a new wedding band, with a raised relief of roses, that touched her heart. Hers to him had been a new watch, and a new chain to hang it on.

  Late in the afternoon,Turk and Katy caught the train at Spanish Flats to San Antonio for a brief honeymoon, and they promised to see Faye while they were in town.

  She'd pretended that she was supremely calm, but Katy had butterflies in her stomach when she and Turk were shown into their elegant room with their luggage.

  It would be her first intimacy since the night Danny had died, and Katy had misgivings. She wasn't at all sure if she was going to be able to go through with it. If she couldn't, how would her marriage survive?

  IN SAN Antonio, Faye was still half in shock after having Lacy's cousin Ruby read Ben's letter to her. It was postmarked Paris, France, and in it Ben recounted his small successes, including the forthcoming publication of a book he'd written. He was doing very well, he wrote, but he still felt unhappy about the way he'd treated

  Faye. She was very special to him. He wanted to take care of her and the baby, if she'd let him.

  Faye was touched, but there was plenty of water under the bridge now. She had her independence and a life of her own. She didn't have to be dependent on anybody. Besides, she was learning how to read and write. Who could tell what opportunities might present themselves once she was literate!

  She couldn't write back. It had obviously escaped Ben's mind that she couldn't even read, that she would have to have somebody read his letter to her. He'd always been thoughtless. It wasn't malicious, but it was an indication of how insensitive he was to other people. She might like to see him again, but not until she was on equal intellectual footing.

  Later that day, she went to Ruby and asked her to write to Ben for her. She thanked him for his interest, but told him that she was enjoying her independence and could do without his help. It was a cool, polite little note that would say much more than words. She smiled to herself as she went to bed that night. She did wish she could be a fly on the wall when arrogant Ben Whitehall discovered that the silly little country girl he'd left behind didn't want him. She didn't doubt that it would come as a shock.

  In fact, it did. Ben read it three times before he realized that the handwriting couldn't be Faye's, because Faye couldn't even read. He groaned as he got up from his desk and paced the room. Why hadn't he remembered that? It must have been one more strike against him where Faye was concerned.

  He'd done an excellent job of messing up his life, he thought.


  Not only had he ruined his relationship with his family, he'd alienated the one woman who'd ever really loved him.. .the woman who was going to have his child.

  His twenty-first birthday had come earlier in the week, without a word from home. It was Christmas, and he had no one to share it with except the pert mademoiselle who lived down the hall. That wasn't the appetizing proposition it would have been just a week ago. He was homesick. He missed Texas. He wondered if his mother was still alive, because no one at Spanish Flats had answered his letter. Cole was probably still mad at him. His elder brother wasn't a forgiving man.

  He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and stopped to check his wallet for the advance he'd been given on his book contract. He had enough for a small celebration, he decided. God knew, anything was better than sitting here brooding about his mistakes.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  In a hotel room in San Antonio,Turk was standing by the window, wearing nothing at all. His face was harder than ever, his eyes full of anguish. Katy lay under the covers, still shivering as she tried to come to grips with her fear of letting go in a man's arms. All his skill hadn't managed to ease her trepidation, loosen her locked muscles. She was in tears, and Turk was furious. It didn't bode well for their future.

  Katy dreaded the outburst that was sure to come as she stared toward Turk. She could feel his anger in the way he'd left her, the tautness of his nude body a threat in itself. But he hadn't lashed out at her, and that was puzzling.

  "I know you're angry..." she began hesitantly.

  "No," he replied, his voice very gentle, although he kept his back to her. "I'm not angry, Katy. I knew it wasn't going to be easy." He had a smoking cigarette in one hand and he was peering down at the streetlamps with eyes that barely saw, his heart still shuddering from frustrated desire.

  Katy sat up against the pillows with her knees under her chin, swallowing tears. "I've done so many bad things..." she began brokenly.

  "Oh, Katy," he said softly turning to look at her with eyes that were quiet and loving. "You've done nothing but be a victim, sweetheart. Your mind won't let go of the way Danny died. That's all."

  She lowered her eyes to her nervous hands. "I can't help that," she said in a subdued tone. "I wish I could!"

  He moved back to the bed and sat down beside her, his body warm against her hip. He was nude, and completely unselfconscious about it, but Katy's eyes kept darting away as she struggled between embarrassment and shy fascination. He was still blatantly aroused, which didn't help, either.

  "We're married," he reminded her, smiling. "It's all right if you look at me, Katy."

  "I'm not as uninhibited as I used to think I was." She looked up at him worriedly. "I loved you, that first time," she blurted out. "Loved you, wanted you—until there was nothing else in the world except you. Leaving was the hardest thing I'd ever done. It isn't what happened to Danny—Well," she confessed, "maybe a little. But mostly it's that I can't quite believe we're married." Her face was pale with her fears. "Turk, you never wanted to marry me before. What changed?"

  "The way Wardell looked in that cafe," he said shortly. He averted his face. He hated acknowledging the other man, but it was unavoidable. "He'd have taken you blind, limping, and mindless—any way he could get you. And then I saw what I'd done to you, and I was scared to death that you might feel sorry enough for him to accept what he offered you."

  "Nothing.. .scares you," she said falteringly, with a shaky smile.

  He looked at her, his eyes like gray smoke in autumn. "Losing you does," he said simply. "Something inside me died when you left here. I didn't even miss it until you came back and all the colors were there again, all the vividness I'd lost. I ran all the way to the house, expecting to see you the way you were, all laughter and mischievousness." He flinched. "And instead, I found an empty shell, without life or sparkle. I knew that I was responsible for that. You loved me. I knew it, but I wasn't ready. Rather, I thought I wasn't." He smoothed back her dark, tangled hair and searched her wide green eyes quietly. "You don't trust me not to walk out again, isn't that the real fear, Katy? You don't think I'm committed—that we're married because of guilt or pity on my part."

  She couldn't deny it. Her face gave her away.

  He smiled ruefully and belatedly noticed that his ashes were falling on the old Persian rug that covered the floor near the bed. He reached for an ashtray and put it out. "Listen,"he said when he'd finished, holding her gaze, "we've got the rest of our lives. All the time there is. So don't feel that you have to force yourself to sleep with me, or that you need to feel guilty because you don't want me yet. I'm in no hurry, and there'll be no pressure, no matter how long it takes. I love you, Katy," he said softly, smiling. "And I'm not going anywhere."

  The first tear caught her unaware. She felt it escape her eye, make a warm trail down her cheek that quickly cooled. It was followed by another and another. Turk held her close and rocked her, pillowing her wet face against his hair-roughened chest.

  "Watering pot," he said accusingly, with a deep chuckle. "What is it now?"

  "You have to be sure," she choked. "Because I can't leave you again—not even if it's the best thing for you. I think I might die without you now..."

  His arms contracted involuntarily. "You little fool! Didn't you hear what I told Wardell? That if I lost you, I might as well be dead, because there was no life without you? It wasn't just words, Katy. I meant it. Oh, God, I meant it!" He searched for her mouth and kissed it through the salty tears, groaning as the fever began to burn in him all over again. He had to pull back while he still could. Katy didn't want this...

  "No!" she protested when his head started to lift. She caught his full lower lip in her small teeth and trapped it. "Not now."

  The sensations he felt made him shudder. He'd wanted her before, but never so desperately. He'd been in control the last time, but he knew instinctively that he couldn't hold back long enough to please her now. It would be quick and rough, and that was the last thing he could do to her under the circumstances.

  He caught the clinging arms around his neck and gently pulled them loose. His hands were trembling, like his body. "No," he said huskily. "Katy, you don't understand. I can't hold anything back..."

  She rubbed her face against his chest hungrily while her hands felt for the hem of her gown and suddenly wrenched it from her body. She sat up proudly, inviting his eyes to look at the firm thrust of her breasts, the taut dusky peaks blatantly signaling her hunger.

  "Yes, look at me," she whispered, shivering. "I used to lie awake at night and remember how it felt the first time you saw me like this."

  His lips parted on a shattered breath. His big hands cupped her gently and his thumbs rubbed tenderly at the distended nipples. He heard her gasp, watched her back arch like a cat inviting a stroking hand.

  "Katy," he whispered in torment.

  She kicked away the covers. The room was cool, but she was burning, her skin almost feverish as she lay back, trembling helplessly.

  "Whatever you do will be all right," she said in a voice that was too strained to be hers. She moved gently, so that her body positioned itself to receive him. Her lips lifted in sensual invitation.

  He groaned, his body sliding down over hers in helpless response, his feverish mouth finding hers even as his hands slid under her thighs and lifted her to the involuntary downward thrust of his body.

  "Katy.. .forgive me!"he ground out against her lips as he went into her with one quick, fierce thrust.

  She made a sound he'd never heard, and her body stiffened and went very still.

  He paused, shuddering above her, his eyes on her face. "Is it hurting?" he began urgently.

  But even as the words escaped his tight throat, her body began to convulse. She clutched at his hips, sobbing.

  "Help me," she whimpered. "Turk, please, please, help me!"

  He realized belatedly what was happening to her. He smoothed back her damp hair and his hips be
gan to move with quick, measured smoothness that brought her to completion in a matter of seconds. She was still clinging to him and crying as the first wave hit him and turned the world to a throbbing red blur.

  A few seconds later, the room came back into blinding focus. He'd all but lost consciousness in the fullness of his pleasure. His heart was pounding and he was trembling, sweating in the aftermath. Under him, Katy's soft body was fluid, warm, clinging to his with tenderness.

  He nuzzled his face into her throat and finally found enough strength to lift his head. Her eyes were misty, half-closed, her mouth swollen. She reached up and touched his face with fingers that adored it.

  "It was too quick," he said huskily.

  Her head moved sideways on the pillow. "Not really." She wrapped her soft legs around his when he started to lift away from her, and her arms slid over his broad shoulders. "No," she whispered. She held his eyes and her hips lifted.

  "I can't," he said softly. "Not yet."

  "Can't you?" She rubbed her lips tenderly over his and suddenly slid her hand down the center of his body to its core and touched him.

  He groaned harshly and his body jerked, going sharply rigid. He looked into her eyes with stark shock.

  "I love you," she said. Her face was radiant with it, like her supple body in his arms as she began to lift up to him. "Let me show you.. .how much!"

  His hands stabbed into her thick hair and arched her head up to his. He held it while he moved, lazily this time, ardently, with techniques he'd never shown her before. Some of the things he did shocked her. All of them aroused her to a pitch she'd never achieved. When he finally gave her the satisfaction she was reduced to begging for, she cried out and fainted.

  "Did you think you could match me?" he asked later, smiling lazily into her drowsy eyes while he smoked a cigarette. "You're just a babe in the woods, child."