Cozette thought she was in love with Fredrick by the fourth outing. He spoke French to her and swore she had angel eyes. When his aunt retired early on the fifth evening, she’d been excited to spend the time alone with a man who pampered her so.
Fredrick had teased her and told her he planned to seduce her as they entered his private quarters. She’d been fool enough to laugh and play along when he kissed her and flirted with her. When the hour grew late, she’d told him she had to go, but he changed. Seduction turned forceful and demanding.
For a moment she thought he was still teasing, and when talk turned to action, she’d been too shocked, too young, too naive to even fight.
It had all been over in a few minutes, and when he pulled away, he’d seemed furious at her. The man who’d spoken his love for her in French stood, straightened his clothes, and said he’d done what he’d been paid to do. He’d left her there, her dress torn, her heart broken as if she were no more than the scraps after a meal.
She’d cried for a while, then walked back to the school and pretended nothing had happened. If she’d said a word she would have been expelled. Her father would have disowned her. Proper young ladies didn’t get themselves into compromising positions.
So, she’d held her tongue and come home as soon as she could find a reason to slip away.
Once on the ranch, she’d realized the truth. The letter introducing Fredrick was in Uncle Raymond’s handwriting. He had paid a man to dishonor her.
When she said nothing, he must have thought the plan hadn’t worked. Then, he’d talked her father into changing his will. He probably figured she’d be too afraid to even talk to another man after her encounter with Fredrick. Uncle Raymond must have thought he’d planned it all out where he would win the ranch without a fight. Half the family wealth had never been enough—he wanted it all.
Her grandfather had fought the Apache for this land, her father had fought outlaws and raiders more than once, and now she knew she’d have to fight her uncle. No one was ever going to stand in her way. The land was hers, paid for with blood and sweat. She would have made a bargain with the devil himself to keep it.
Looking at the chair where Michael had been sitting, she wondered if that hadn’t been exactly what she’d done. After all, he was an outlaw. His only three relatives didn’t look like they’d completely evolved from animals. Moses snorted like a bull and Joseph smacked when he ate. She couldn’t even see Abe clearly for all the dirty hair hanging in his face.
But Michael Hughes looked like he was born to play the role of a rancher. All dressed up, he looked like a perfect gentleman, but he seemed to be holding his cards close to the vest and waiting for her to give him just enough power to take over or run. When the time came, how hard would it be for him to walk away from a ranch this size with only a wagonload of trinkets? By law all her property now belonged to him. Would he give it back when the time came?
She stood and moved to the gun chest. Lifting the false bottom to the shelf, she retrieved two more small Colts. One for beneath her pillow, the other to hide in this room. She’d not be caught unprepared again. The nuns might not have taught her to fight, but they had taught her to reason. She wanted to believe in Michael, but she’d learned the hard way to be prepared.
From the window, she watched her new husband cross through the garden. He didn’t turn to the cabins where his relatives stayed but opened a side gate. Taking long strides he walked into the untamed pasture beyond the trimmed and groomed walls of the compound.
He was almost to the trees running along a creek behind the house when he stopped. She watched as he leaned his head back and stared up at the cloudy sky like a man trying to find his bearings.
For the first time, she wondered if he felt as trapped by their bargain as she did. If he hadn’t agreed to her crazy scheme he might have been killed last night. Yet, even knowing all she had to do