Texas Blonde

Chapter Five

"Now will you marry me?" Josh repeated when he received no answer.

Neither of them even realized that until this moment he had not previously asked her.

Felicity blinked furiously against the tears that threatened to choke her. She should be grateful that he still wanted to. Her father had warned her often enough that men didn't marry women who let them have their way without it. She didn't feel very grateful, though. "I'll have to, won't I?" she replied, steeling herself to meet his gaze and turning abruptly to face him. "I'm going to have a baby now, aren't I?"

She was certain of it. Her father had told her that, too, about how women who let men have their way got babies. What he hadn't told her was how good it would feel. No wonder some women were led astray so easily, she thought wildly.

Josh stared at her in dumb amazement. "A baby?" he repeated as if he had never heard the word before. This was a complication he had not even considered. He ran a hand over his face as if to wipe away the last vestige of the sensual spell that lingered over them. A baby, of all the things to think of. "You are probably not going to have a baby," he explained with elaborate patience.

"Probably!" Felicity echoed in dismay. She was shaking now, much as she had shaken with chills after the flood, except that now she was not cold.

"And if you are, it won't matter… if we're married," Josh concluded, knowing he had discovered the final link in the chain. She must marry him. He could not let her go, not now that he knew marriage to Felicity Storm would be everything he could ever want. Seeing the terror in her eyes, he reached for her, wanting only to comfort, but she dodged his hands and scrambled off the bed.

Felicity wrapped her arms around herself, desperately trying to still her tremors. He had seduced her. She knew that's what it was called, except something was wrong. Men who seduced women did so because they didn't want to marry them, not because they did. The thoughts collided in her brain, confusing her so she could not make sense of anything. All the desperate emotions she felt coalesced into white-hot anger. She watched him rise from the bed through a haze of fury.

"You seduced me!" she accused.

Josh paused in the act of tucking in his shirttail. He frowned as he considered her charge. "Seduction" suggested previous planning. What he had done was entirely too spontaneous to be termed seduction. "Not exactly," he tried to explain, taking a step toward her.

"Yes, exactly!" she cried, almost hysterical now. To escape him, she scurried backward, away from the rumpled yellow bed and on out into the parlor, where she felt safer. "You did… that-"she gestured toward the bedroom, backing away as he followed her-"so… so…" The truth dawned with crystal clarity even as she spoke the words. "So I would have to marry you!" she said, her voice hoarse with horror.

Struck by the irony of the situation, Josh paused in the bedroom doorway. Women were usually the ones who used sex to trap a man into marriage, not the other way around. He might have smiled if Felicity had not looked so appalled.

"That's not usually considered an evil motive," he tried, but the delicate sarcasm went right past her. "Look, calm down," he urged, feeling more and more like a cad with every passing minute. Damn, she was shaking like a leaf. "Sit down before you fall down," he said, coming toward her. Ignoring the way she cringed from his touch, he forced her onto the settee.

Felicity winced as her bottom struck the cushions, acutely aware of a new tenderness in her body. Before she could even begin to consider the significance of this tenderness, he was pressing a glass into her hands.

"Here, drink this," he ordered.

Felicity accepted the glass with trembling fingers and sniffed it suspiciously. "Is this whiskey?" she asked in an outraged whisper.

"Brandy," Josh corrected impatiently. "And don't look at me like that. I'm not trying to get you drunk. It's a little late for that anyway, don't you think?"

Felicity flushed scarlet at the implication of his words and lowered her eyes with shame. Of course he did not need to get her drunk. She had already surrendered to him in every way possible when she was cold sober.

"Drink it!" Josh ordered again, pressing the glass to her lips.

Past resistance, Felicity obeyed, gasping and choking as the liquor scalded her throat. Almost instantly, the warmth from the brandy seeped into her bones. After another few minutes, her shaking began to ease.

Josh took the empty glass from her and set it aside. Resisting the urge to take her in his arms, he very carefully sat down beside her. "Are you all right now?" he asked quietly, hoping to calm her with his manner.

Felicity knew she would never be all right again, but she was better, at least. She nodded.

"You never did answer my question," he said, no longer able to ignore how small and defenseless she looked with her dress rumpled and her golden hair coming loose around her shoulders. If any other man had done this to her, Josh would have killed him instantly. The knowledge stunned him. Guilt clawed at his soul again, baring emotions he had thought long dead, emotions horrible in their intensity. For a moment he actually winced in physical pain.

No! a silent voice shrieked in his mind, protesting the insidious weakness he knew would destroy him. How could he feel this way? Forcing himself to think rationally, he quickly rationalized. Of course. It was so obvious. He cared for her. She was, after all, a sweet, lovely, spirited, intelligent, very desirable young woman. He had chosen her to be his wife. Of course he cared what happened to her, felt her pain, and bore the guilt for having caused it. But he also had the power to heal that hurt. And he would.

"If you marry me, you'll have a good home and someone to take care of you," he said, his voice ragged with his tormenting emotions. "You'd never want for anything again." The need to protect her was almost a tangible presence in the room. He waited tensely for her reply.

Felicity raised her head and looked at him. The liquor made her a little lightheaded, as if all of this were happening to someone else and she was only an observer. His logical arguments made little impression on her benumbed brain, but she understood their essence. If she married him, she would be safe. But would that be enough? She didn't know, and thinking about it only made her want to cry. She shuddered slightly and drew a shaky breath. "Yes, I'll marry you, Mr. Logan," she said, knowing she really had no other choice.

She looked so… so shattered. The memory of how he had hoped to win her devotion with a few fevered kisses tortured him. How could he have been such a fool? And how could he have let things get so far out of control? He had never meant to force her… But he had to admit that he had, indeed, meant to somehow force her into accepting him. Now he knew that a victory on those terms was hardly a victory at all. Could he make her understand how much he regretted what had happened? Could he erase that haunted expression from her eyes? "Look, what I did…"-he gestured vaguely toward the bedroom-"I didn't mean…"

"You didn't mean!" Felicity cried in despair, jumping to her feet.

"I didn't want it to happen," he corrected, rising swiftly to face her. "But when you didn't stop me…" Seeing the stricken look in her eyes, he stopped, instantly aware that he had said exactly the wrong thing.

Felicity stared at him in total humiliation. He hadn't really wanted her, but when she did not scream or fight him off… Overwhelmed with shame, she turned, following her instinct to flee, but he caught her and hauled her back against his chest. Knowing she should fear him, and hate him, still she could not resist the comfort of his arms. Unable to fight him, she surrendered to his embrace and began to sob uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions that wracked her. When her feet left the floor, she no longer even cared where he was taking her or why.

Feeling helpless and completely reprehensible, Josh carried her to the big chair and sat down in it, cradling her in his lap to offer her what comfort he could. Not knowing how to make amends for his blunder, his many blunders, he remained silent, rocking her gently while every one of her tears seemed to scald his heart. After what seemed a very long time, her sobs gentled to weeping, and then even that stopped. Still he held her close, savoring the warmth of her body and the sweet, womanly fragrance of her hair. Regardless of whether it was right or not, she was his now. He pressed her to his heart possessively, but she stiffened in protest, startling him. "Felicity?" he asked softly.

Felicity knew she should never have accepted the comfort of his arms, not after he told her he had not wanted her, had not meant to make love to her. Love. How ironic. He had also said he did not love her, even before he had taken her to bed. "Do you have a handkerchief?" she asked into his shirtfront, knowing she must stop dwelling on her humiliation and save what was left of her pride.

He shifted while he dug into a pocket. He handed the white cloth to her. Averting her head so he would not see her tear-ravaged face, she wiped her eyes and discreetly blew her nose.

"Are you all right now?" Josh asked, more than willing to pull her back into his arms, regardless of her answer.

Felicity was getting extremely tired of that question, but she nodded again, still not meeting his eyes. She sat up stiffly, acutely conscious of the fact that she was on his lap. How wonderful it had felt to be held, and how she longed for the haven of his arms again. For a moment she had almost been able to forget her shame and remember only the sweet ecstasy she had found in his embrace. But that, of course, had been only an illusion, destroyed now by her humiliation.

"I think we should get married right away," he was saying, having decided that this was the best way to reassure her. "I was thinking we could do it next Saturday. That will give us a week to get things ready."

Felicity didn't know whether the sinking feeling she experienced was relief or dread that he still wanted to marry her, but she didn't have the energy to examine it. "That sounds fine," she said numbly.

Josh knew a sudden and very profound feeling of relief. She had accepted him. For a moment there, he had thought she might refuse. He knew it would have been no more than he deserved. "Then it's settled," he agreed as a strange sense of peace engulfed him.

Felicity heard the change in his voice and finally lifted her head to see his expression. She was a little startled to discover that he looked exactly the same as always. She wondered vaguely if she did, too, or if people would know, simply from looking at her, that she was a fallen woman. Except she would not be a fallen woman. She would be a wife, his wife, although why he wanted her as his wife, she could not begin to guess.

Wife. The word echoed in her mind. She was going to be his wife. The thought made her slightly panicky. She knew nothing about being a wife or running a house or anything else that would be required of her. Her panic grew when she managed to focus on what he was saying.

"… find the circuit preacher and round up the neighbors. A week should be long enough to take care of everything. You'll need a dress, too. We can go to town on Monday to get you some dress goods. Candace will help you make it."

"You want to have a big, fancy wedding?" she asked, her eyes wide. She had pictured something very private, in keeping with the shame she felt about the whole thing.

"We can't have any hole-in-the-corner affair. People would talk," Josh pointed out, knowing that they were going to talk anyway when they learned Josh Logan was marrying a girl he'd found out on the range and had known only two days. Not that he cared, of course, not for himself, but he wanted to protect her as much as he could.

"All right," she agreed reluctantly, already imagining the ordeal of standing up in front of a lot of strangers as Josh Logan's bride. They would all be looking at her, examining her as if she were some prize horse up for auction, and speculating on her background and possibly even her morals. And then they would wonder why a man like Josh Logan had ever picked a nobody like her for his wife. She cringed inwardly.

"Good," Josh said with forced heartiness, unable to understand her lack of enthusiasm. She should have at least been relieved. Or grateful. "I'll send somebody out tomorrow to find the preacher, and if he can come, we'll invite everybody around. We'll roast a steer and even have dancing…"

Felicity tried to listen to his plans but was distracted when his arm tightened possessively around her waist, sending little shivers of reawakening desire coursing through her. Resisting the urge to surrender, to allow herself to be drawn back into the intoxicating circle of his embrace, she resolutely pushed herself away. She would give him no more reason to think her "easy."

His hands lingered on her waist for a moment, but then he let her go. She stood up and stepped away from him, still trembling a little and grateful for some distance between them. She found it difficult to think straight when she was close to him. She tried once more to concentrate on what he was saying.

Josh, however, had run out of things to say. He stopped talking to study her reaction. She didn't seem too happy about the whole thing, but that would probably be asking an awful lot under the circumstances. He should be satisfied that she had agreed at all. He hadn't intended to frighten her into it, and he would endure the guilt for that for a long time, but he'd make it up to her, and everything would be all right. Once they were married, once she was sharing his bed, things would be fine.

That thought stirred memories of their earlier encounter. Josh felt desire building in him again. Unfortunately, he did not think Felicity would be quite so willing a second time. And Candace wasn't likely to leave them alone much longer, considering the lateness of the hour. Regretfully, he said, "I reckon I'd better say good night."

Felicity nodded, once again confused by her feelings. She longed to be alone to sort out the thoughts that churned in her brain, but she felt uneasy about letting Mr. Logan out of her sight. What if he changed his mind about marrying her while he was gone? What would she do then?

Watching her face, Josh easily read her uncertainty. He had been debating whether or not to kiss her good night, and this convinced him. He would reassure her without overwhelming her. It should be easy enough.

Felicity's heart was thudding dangerously against her ribs as he approached. What was he going to do? Would he take her again? Trembling with mingled anticipation and dread, she tilted her head backward as he approached. The gray of his eyes had darkened almost to black.

"Good night, Lissy," he whispered, and gently touched his mouth to hers. Or at least that was what he had intended. One touch from her was not enough, not nearly enough. The next thing he knew, he was holding her close, tasting all she had to give. One last remaining spark of sanity flickered to life just in time, however, and saved him from carrying her off once more to the big bed he knew was waiting for them in the other room. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her and drew a ragged breath, pleased to note that she was as moved by the kiss as he. "A week seems like a long time to wait," he murmured.

Felicity thought so, too.

Felicity went weak when she saw Mr. Logan's expression. His eyes seemed to burn into her, as if he were looking into her very soul. Quite against her will, she reached out to touch his face and was mildly surprised to find the paper cool beneath her fingertips.

Still she winced as she stared at the photograph. Had he really looked at her like that, as if he wanted to ravish her, in front of everyone? No wonder no one had expressed surprise to learn that he intended to marry her. And no wonder he had done that shameful thing to her.

And no wonder she had let him, she thought with despair. Just holding his photograph was enough to set her nerves to jumping and cause that odd ache in the pit of her stomach, the ache she had felt every time she had seen or even thought about him during the past two, very long days.

Sunday had not been too bad. She had managed to hide in her room for most of the morning, pretending to read her Bible. When Candace finally rousted her out, having heard the news of the coming marriage from Mr. Logan, the rest of the men were already back from town. Everyone was so excited over the wedding plans that she and Mr. Logan had not been alone for even a minute all day.

Felicity's mirror showed her that she looked no different than before, and if anyone suspected what had happened to her, they gave no indication. Even Candace did not seem to notice any change in her. Everyone treated her with the respect due her as Mr. Logan's intended bride.

Everyone except Mr. Logan. On Sunday evening, just as she had been enjoying a measure of relief that the day had gone so well, Mr. Logan informed her that he was taking her to town first thing in the morning to do her wedding shopping. Felicity reminded him, ever so politely, that she had promised to develop the photographs for the men on Monday, so she could not go. Mr. Logan seemed to think he deserved first call on her time. He was reluctant to believe she intended to keep her promise to the men. While they had not exactly quarreled, Felicity knew he was far from pleased.

His displeasure grew as she and Cody worked side by side on Monday, locking the negatives and the albumen-coated paper into the developing trays and waiting for time and sunlight to produce the prints. Mr. Logan had grudgingly assigned Cody's line-riding duties to another cowboy so Cody would be free to assist Felicity in the work. Cody's help had been invaluable to her. Not only did he carry around the heavy trays, but he quickly learned to judge when a print was adequately developed. Felicity couldn't help thinking that if she married Cody, the two of them could make a good living practicing the black art.

But she didn't want to marry Cody. She only wanted to marry Mr. Logan. Oddly enough, she still could not think of him as anything except "Mr. Logan," in spite of what had happened between them. Or maybe because of it. She wasn't too clear on that point. She only knew that whenever they were together, her feelings frightened her. But she still wanted to see him.

Or at least she had until last night. After all the furor over the photographs had died down and the men went back to the bunkhouse to admire themselves, Mr. Logan and Felicity were alone for the first time since the night he proposed to her. Felicity tried to distract him by showing him the pictures again, but he seemed far more interested in looking at her. And touching her. And kissing her.

"Stop it!" she had exclaimed finally, jumping up from where he had cornered her on the settee.

"Stop what?" he demanded in exasperation.

"You know 'what'!" she informed him furiously, carefully backing up until she was out of his reach. "You won't trick me again."

"Trick you!" he said, standing as if to come after her. "I have no intention of tricking' you. We're engaged. It's perfectly proper for me to kiss you."

"Not with me, it isn't," she lied. She began to back away from him, but he was too quick for her. He caught her easily.

Just the touch of his hands weakened her resistance, but she was determined not to surrender to him again. If she had nothing left in this world, she had her pride. She would fight to keep what was left of it intact. When his face came down to hers, she turned her head away and struggled frantically until he released her, thrusting her away from him angrily.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked.

"Your language, Mr. Logan!" she remonstrated, trembling with reaction.

"And stop calling me 'Mr. Logan,' damn it," he replied, daring her to correct him again. "There's no reason why I can't kiss you. We're getting married in a few days."

"We're not married yet," Felicity pointed out, knowing he wanted to do far more than kiss her and understanding that if she allowed the kisses, she would allow the rest only too willingly.

Judging from his irritation, he understood that, too. He reached for her again, but she dodged him, stepping behind the settee, where she felt safer. "I think you'd better leave now," she had said.

After another angry exchange that Felicity could not even bring herself to remember, he had left, slamming the door behind him. She had been certain that he would call off the wedding and send her packing at first light. Instead he had come to the house that morning and informed her they would be going to town. He did not look very pleased with her, but he still seemed determined to go through with his wedding plans. Felicity knew she should have been grateful, especially after she had made him so angry, but for some reason, she only felt angry herself. Perversely, she determined to continue calling him "Mr. Logan," knowing how that annoyed him.

She heard his voice out in the ranch yard as he instructed one of the men to hitch up the wagon. He would be coming for her soon. Swiftly, she put the picture she had been staring at on the bottom of the pile of photographs and tucked them all into the cigar box Candace had given her.

Josh paused on the porch to finish his cigarette before going in to fetch Felicity. He was still nursing his anger like a sore tooth, even though he knew she had been right to refuse him. As she had reminded him, they weren't married yet. He would not be entitled to marital privileges for several more days. Although he had to respect her wishes, that didn't make it any easier to sleep at night, not when he kept dreaming about making love to her, and waking up in a cold sweat.

At least the men weren't teasing him the way they would have teased one of their own who was planning to marry. In fact, their reaction had been surprisingly subdued. They seemed awed at the very thought. Even Cody, whom Josh had informed first thing the next morning, before the other men returned, had reacted differently than Josh expected.

Far from being jealous, the boy was thrilled. His first remark had been, "Now she can stay here and teach me all about photography!" So much for Josh's theory that Cody was in love with Felicity himself.

And Candace. The woman was a caution. Nobody could have acted more surprised at the news. She'd even had the nerve to ask him, with great concern, whether he shouldn't ought to get to know the girl a little better before he took her to wife. As if she hadn't planned the whole thing herself. As if she wasn't just delighted at the prospect of supervising his wedding. As if she hadn't already knitted booties for his first child.

Yes, everything had been pretty peaceful so far. Now, like a fool, he was going to take Felicity to town and parade her in front of the townsfolk. Every tongue within a hundred miles would be wagging about Josh Logan and his "child" bride. Normally, such a prospect would have annoyed him beyond reason, but he found himself smiling at the thought. The joke would be on them. Josh knew his child bride was all woman.

His smile widened as he remembered the fire in those blue eyes when she had sent him packing last night. As frustrating as her refusal had been for him, he could not help admiring her spirit. She was quite a little handful. Desire stirred in him, hot and swift. She might not be willing to go to bed with him again before they were married, but that didn't mean he had to quit pestering her about it. In fact, the thought of pestering her held a lot of appeal. She was awfully cute when she was angry. Even though he didn't think for a minute he could change her mind, the prospect of a little tussle over the matter was appealing. Yes, very appealing, he decided, tossing aside his cigarette.

He had turned to enter the house when Gus called from the yard. "Mr. Logan! We got company!"

Josh looked back, easily spotting the buggy that was rapidly approaching the ranch. Josh swore, briefly and succinctly. "Now what the hell does she want?" he muttered.

Felicity checked her hair one last time and smoothed down the skirt of her blue calico, but she waited in vain for Mr. Logan to come through the front door. He had been standing on the front porch for an awfully long time. Felicity was about to go open the door anyway when she heard a wagon rattling up outside. A female voice called out, "Hello, the house!"

A visitor! A female visitor! Paying a morning call! Suddenly aware of her questionable position in the household, Felicity wondered frantically what on earth she should do. Should she hide or should she welcome the woman as if she were the hostess? Felicity had never entertained company in her whole life and did not have the faintest idea where to begin.

"It's just that Delano woman," Candace sniffed, glancing disdainfully out the front window. Felicity had not even noticed that Candace was in the room.

"What should I do?" Felicity asked, perilously close to panic.

Candace seemed startled by the question, but she took in Felicity's predicament in an instant. "I expect you'd better let her in, for starters. I'll make some tea, and in a few minutes you can come get it. Ask her to set down. Knowing Blanche Delano, you won't have to worry too much about making conversation." With those instructions, Candace slipped quietly away, leaving Felicity with nothing to do but open the front door. She was instantly sorry that she did.

"What's all this I hear about you getting married, Joshua, and to some little girl that you found out on the range during a thunderstorm?" Felicity heard the woman say.

Felicity hardly had a chance to feel insulted, however. She was too shocked by the sight of Blanche Delano. Her visitor was tall, although not nearly as tall as Candace, but she seemed much larger because of the fullness of her figure. A tightly laced corset thrust forward her magnificent bosom to accentuate the slenderness of her waist, which gave way to fashionably full hips made fuller still by an elaborately draped bustle. But what made Felicity's eyes widen was the fact that the whole stunning package was clothed completely in purple. Royal purple, the brightest purple Felicity had ever seen, yards and yards of crisp, crackling purple taffeta. And when the woman lifted her skirt to execute the steps, Felicity saw that her well-turned ankles were encased in purple stockings embroidered with hundreds of bunches of tiny grapes.

Forcing herself to look at Mrs. Delano's face, Felicity found herself even more intimidated. She saw milk-white skin contrasting vividly with gleaming ebony hair piled high in a cascade of curls. On top of the curls sat a ridiculous confection of a hat which exactly matched the gown and sported ostrich plumes so long they swooped down to brush against Mrs. Delano's fantastic breasts. Lively green eyes stared out of her round face, and too red lips formed a winning smile.

Felicity's photographer's eye told her that Blanche Delano was not a beauty, was not even conventionally pretty, but Felicity doubted anyone would ever even notice that deficiency. Most people would have judged her to be gorgeous.

Green eyes took in Felicity from head to toe. "My lands, is this her?" Mrs. Delano asked in patent disbelief. Her radiant smile flickered and died. For a moment the two women simply stared at each other across the threshold.

Never, in all her years of feeling insignificant, had Felicity felt more so. Compared to this woman, she was a mere shadow, a pale imitation of a woman. She wanted nothing more than to run away and hide where no one would ever see her again. Only her fierce pride kept her rooted to the spot, her chin high, her expression unintentionally defiant.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, Blanche Delano turned to Josh, who had accompanied her up to the door.

"Well, she's a beauty, Joshua. I'll have to give you credit for good taste. But can she talk?"

Long accustomed to Blanche's outspoken behavior, Josh calmly introduced them. "Felicity, this is our neighbor, Mrs. Blanche Delano. Blanche, this is Miss Felicity Storm."

"How do you do?" Felicity heard herself mumble, convinced that this whole episode must be some sort of a dream. Not only was this the most magnificent woman Felicity had ever met, but she had just said that Felicity was a beauty. None of this could possibly be real.

Mrs. Delano's smile glittered to life again. "Why, I'm fit as a fiddle, although you look as if you could use a little more meat on your bones. Hasn't Joshua been feeding you?"

Felicity could think of no response to such an outrageous question, so she simply said, "Won't you come in?" Since Mrs. Delano was already in, having surged by while Felicity was gathering her voice, she added, "And please sit down."

Felicity watched in amazement as Mrs. Delano made a little ceremony out of seating herself on the settee and artfully arranging her quantities of skirt. By the time she had settled herself enough to have removed her orchid-colored gloves, Felicity was itching to go for her camera. The woman was posed perfectly!

"Gome sit here, honey," she commanded Felicity, patting the space beside her with one perfectly kept hand. "I want to look at you."

I want to look at you, too, Felicity thought, but of course she didn't say it out loud. She took the offered seat instead.

Candace had been right, Felicity realized. Mrs. Delano was going to take care of the conversation.

"I could hardly believe my ears," she was saying. "I was no sooner off the stage than folks started telling me all about how Josh Logan had found himself a girl at last and was going to marry her on Saturday. I declare, Joshua, I can't hardly leave you alone for a minute! That'll teach me to go running off to Dallas." She paused as if expecting Josh to make some comment, but he only glared at her from the wingbacked chair where he had seated himself.

Undaunted, Blanche turned back to Felicity. "Where on earth did you come from, Miss Storm?"

Uncertain exactly how to answer such a question, Felicity hesitated a moment. "Everywhere, I guess you could say," she began, prepared to stop in case Mrs. Delano launched into another subject, but surprisingly, the woman simply waited, listening intently.

"My father was a traveling photographer, you see, and we moved around a lot. He… he passed away a few weeks ago, leaving me alone and lost. I wandered onto Mr. Logan's property and he found me." Felicity amazed herself with the way she had mentioned her father's death with no unseemly display of emotion.

Once again Mrs. Delano surprised her by not replying for several seconds. She sat very still, watching Felicity, studying the girl's expression as if listening to the words she had not spoken and reading from her face all the tragic details of her story. At last she nodded slowly, as if she had reached some sort of decision about Felicity. "And what's all this about a thunderstorm?"

Felicity opened her mouth to reply, but Josh interrupted her. "It started raining while we were bringing her back to the ranch. That's all there was to it," he said brusquely, effectively blocking any mention of the flash flood or his heroism. Felicity would have liked to tell Mrs. Delano the story. Perhaps she would at some other time.

Mrs. Delano smiled slyly, as if she knew a private joke. "How delightfully romantic," she remarked to no one in particular. "Practically love at first sight. I never would have guessed you could be so impulsive, Joshua." She ignored his scowl. "And is the wedding really going to be on Saturday?"

Felicity sat silent in an agony of embarrassment over Mrs. Delano's mention of the word "love." Mr. Logan had made it perfectly clear he did not love her, and she had the oddest feeling that Mrs. Delano knew it, too, regardless of what she said. After a long, awkward moment, Felicity realized no one had responded to Mrs. Delano's question. "Yes, the wedding is Saturday," she said quickly. "We'd be honored if you and Mr. Delano would attend."

Mrs. Delano's eyebrows rose. "Oh, my Sam would love to come. He always enjoyed a good wedding. Unfortunately, he's dead and gone these three years and more."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Felicity said hastily, suddenly realizing this was the "widow woman" Mr. Logan had spoken of. Now that she thought of it, she even recalled the name, although it had meant nothing to her at the time. For a second she reflected on how differently things might have turned out if Mrs. Delano had been at home last week to take her in.

"I'm sorry, too," Mrs. Delano was saying. "I still miss him. Of course, I hope to be lucky enough to marry again." She east Mr. Logan a meaningful look. "Or at least, I thought I would. But now…"

Felicity easily caught her meaning. The woman had intended to marry Mr. Logan! Felicity hazarded a glance at him. Plainly, he understood her meaning, too. He was furious, although Felicity did not want to guess why he was so angry. Perhaps this was the first he knew of her willingness. Perhaps now that he had seen the two women together, he regretted his choice. Felicity could not imagine why any man would want her if he could have a woman like Mrs. Delano.

Pain clenched at her heart, a pain she recognized as jealousy even though she had never experienced the emotion before. She knew a second urge to flee from this woman, and this time she thought of a legitimate reason to leave. "Would you like some tea?" she asked, recalling that Candace was already making it.

"I'd love some," Mrs. Delano replied cheerfully.

With all the dignity she could muster, Felicity rose and left the room. She was barely out of sight when she heard Mrs. Delano addressing Mr. Logan.

"You know, Joshua, I always wondered why you never tried to bed me."

"Blanche!" Mr. Logan's voice sounded outraged. Felicity froze in stunned surprise, knowing she should not eavesdrop, but unable to resist the temptation to hear the rest of this astounding conversation.

"Don't sound so shocked," Mrs. Delano chided him. "You knew I'd say yes, too, but you never asked. I've always wondered why, and now that I've seen your intended bride, I know. I'm too much woman for you, aren't I?"

Mr. Logan said something Felicity did not catch, and Mrs. Delano laughed delightedly. "Oh, I don't mean physically. That way I think we'd be a perfect match. I mean I'm too independent for you. You've been waiting for a woman you thought you could control, a meek little thing you could keep under your thumb, haven't you? Don't bother to deny it," she added when he started to reply.

Stung by this description of her, Felicity turned instinctively to face her adversary and was startled to find that adversary looking right at her. From where she sat, Mrs. Delano could still see her plainly. The woman had been well aware that Felicity was overhearing this conversation. In fact, Felicity instantly realized, Mrs. Delano had staged it for her benefit. Green eyes twinkled wickedly at her for a second before turning back to Mr. Logan, who was sitting out of Felicity's range of vision.

"Hasn't anybody ever told you to mind your own business?" Mr. Logan inquired sarcastically.

"Yes, but I never paid them any mind," Mrs. Delano countered. "I just think it's funny how you took one look at little Miss Storm and judged her that way. I think you may have a few surprises coming."

Felicity stared at her. Now, how could she know a thing like that about someone she'd met less than five minutes ago?

Felicity wondered. Before she could come up with a satisfactory answer, she heard Mrs. Delano say, "I think I'll go help Miss Storm with the tea."

Not wanting Mr. Logan to get up and see her still standing there, listening, Felicity hurried off toward the kitchen, knowing Mrs. Delano would be right behind her.

Candace glanced up from putting the finishing touches on the tea tray when Felicity came through the kitchen door. Candace's normally placid expression changed quickly to astonishment when she saw the expression on Felicity's face. "What's wrong?" When Felicity did not reply immediately, Candace's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What's that woman been saying to you?"

Before Felicity could warn her, "that woman" appeared in the doorway.

"Well, Candace, you won," Mrs. Delano said quite blandly, gliding grandly into the kitchen like a clipper ship at full sail.

"Won?" Candace repeated, immediately assuming the attitude of puzzled but respectful servant.

"Yes, you won," Mrs. Delano said, giving her a disapproving look, "and don't give me that 'dumb darky' act." She turned to where Felicity stood watching the exchange. "When my husband died, everybody-including me-thought that Joshua and I would someday get together. It makes sense," she explained with an elegant gesture of her white hand. "We're about the same age, our ranches are close together, I'm a handsome woman, or at least some folks think I am." She shrugged modestly. "But Candace didn't like me. All this time I thought that's why he never came around."

"I couldn't of stopped him if he'd wanted to, Mrs. Delano," Candace said in her normally dignified tone.

Mrs. Delano shrugged again. "I guess I always knew that, but a woman likes to think she's irresistible."

"Mrs. Delano…" Felicity began, not certain what to say but knowing she needed to stop this conversation.

"Call me Blanche, honey," Blanche said with a friendly smile. "And don't be embarrassed. I figured you'd hear a lot of talk about Josh and me, sooner or later. Just wanted you to know that it's only talk." She grinned wickedly. "Unfortunately!"

"He's not the right man for you," Candace said by way of comfort. "You two would've drove each other crazy in a week."

Blanche gave Felicity a conspiratorial wink. "She's probably right," she confided. "But Candace, if you ever find a man who is right for me, let me know."

"Yes, ma'am," Candace replied with mock subservience, making Mrs. Delano laugh again.

"The tea is ready," Felicity pointed out, more than a little overwhelmed by these two strong-willed women and eager to move the conversation back onto a more acceptable topic.

"Let's just sit right down here and drink it, then," Blanche said, pulling out a chair from the kitchen table. "I sent Joshua off so we could have a private little chat. There's a few things you need to know that I doubt even Candace had the nerve to tell you."

Felicity felt her face heating up as she poured tea from the painted china pot which looked so out of place in the huge, rough kitchen… Would Mrs. Delano presume to give her instructions about the intimate aspects of marriage? she wondered, handing the widow a delicate china cupful of tea. Or could she tell that Felicity no longer needed such instructions?

"Have you heard the story about Joshua's mother?" Blanche inquired, noting the color in the girl's cheeks but unable to guess at the reason for it.

"No," Felicity replied, glancing at Candace, who was frowning in disapproval.

"It's Mr. Josh's place to tell her about it," Candace said.

"Nonsense," Blanche contradicted cheerfully. "He never speaks of his mother at all. If we wait on him to do it, this poor girl will go to her grave curious."

Torn between her loyalty to Candace and her desire to know more about her future husband, Felicity hesitated a moment, but only a moment. "I would like to hear the story," she said, taking a seat opposite Mrs. Delano.

"Well, Candace probably knows a whole lot more about this than I do, so you can get the details from her later. By the time I got here, the fascinating Mrs. Gideon Logan was long gone, but I've heard the story often enough. Seems she and Gideon Logan were acquainted back in Virginia, where both their families had plantations. He was a bit older than she was, but he convinced her to marry him and run off to Texas, where he was going to make his fortune. He was the second son and not likely to inherit much of anything from the family fortune. She lasted here for a while, long enough to have Joshua at least, but she just couldn't stand life on the frontier. Things were a lot more primitive back then, what with the Indians on the rampage half the time and all that."

"One day she up and left and never came back. About broke Mr. Gideon's heart from what I heard tell, and ruined Joshua for good. He don't trust women. Never has, and who can blame him? I only figured it out today, but the reason he's never married was because he never met a woman he was sure he could keep. And then he found you." Blanche considered Felicity thoughtfully.

"Mrs. Delano, I don't think we should be discussing Mr. Logan like this," Felicity said, too confused at the moment to judge whether these theories about her future husband were true or not, and increasingly uncomfortable under the other woman's scrutiny.

"I told you, call me Blanche," Blanche replied, undaunted.

"Blanche," Felicity corrected coldly, "we should not be discussing Mr. Logan this way."

Blanche grinned in approval. "Like I said, Joshua's in for some surprises. Don't you think so, Candace?" she inquired, her green eyes twinkling.

"He'll have his hands full, all right," Candace agreed.

Felicity rose defensively, not certain whether the two women were making sport of her or not. "Really, Mrs. Delano," she began.

"Oh, I'm sorry I offended you, honey," Blanche said, reaching across the table to catch Felicity's hand. "My manners aren't what they should be, I'm afraid. I don't spend much time with ladies, so I get a little rough around the edges. I didn't mean to offend you." She smiled apologetically.

Although Felicity was still not certain whether she could trust this woman, she accepted the apology and sat back down.

"What plans do you have for the wedding?" Blanche asked primly, only the twinkle in her eyes betraying her true character.

"Mr. Logan has invited everyone in the county, I'm afraid," Felicity reported unhappily. "We're going to roast a steer and have dancing and-"

"Sounds like quite a wingding. I'm a little jealous. When Sam and me got hitched, it was just us and the preacher." She patted Felicity's hand comfortingly. "It'll be lots of fun."

Felicity was not quite so sure. She didn't say so, but Blanche seemed to know anyway. "Shell have fun, won't she, Candace?" Blanche asked, looking for support.

"Oh, yes, ma'am. She'll have barrels of fun." Candace did not sound too sure either. "She'll need someone to stand up with her, though. She don't know any womenfolk around here."

"Stand up with me?" Felicity repeated, uncertain exactly what that meant.

"Yes," Blanche explained. "You need a woman to stand with you for the wedding, and Joshua will have a man, the best man and the maid of honor."

Felicity turned to Candace, the only female friend she had in the world, but Candace shook her head slightly. No, a Negro servant could not witness the wedding. "Mrs. Delano might do it, if you asked her real nice," Candace suggested.

Blushing slightly, Felicity turned back to Mrs. Delano. "Would you?" she asked.

"Would I ever!" Blanche agreed, vastly pleased. "Won't that set the tongues to wagging? Poor Blanche Delano had to stand up at Josh Logan's wedding! I can hear it now!"

Not quite able to understand why Blanche would be so happy at the prospect of being gossiped about, Felicity managed only a thin smile. "Thank you," she said, but Blanche waved her gratitude away with a sweep of her elegant hands.

"Well, I reckon you've got lots to do, so I'll be on my way. I haven't even had time to unpack from my trip yet! Thank you for the tea." Blanche rose, leaving her untouched cup behind.

Felicity walked her out, still feeling a little overwhelmed. Blanche paused at the front door and took Felicity's hand again. "I know all this must seem a little frightening to you. If you need a friend, you can count on me. Candace will take good care of you, too, I know. Just remember not to let Joshua have things his own way all the time. That spoils a man faster than anything."

"I won't," Felicity promised, smiling in spite of herself. She vividly remembered how she had refused him the night before and began to feel a little better about herself.

"I'll come early on Saturday to help you get ready. Do you have a dress?" Blanche asked.

"I'm going to town today for one," Felicity replied.

"Good. Then I'd really better get going so you can be on your way. Good luck!" she called over her shoulder as she sailed across the porch and down the steps to her waiting buggy.

Feeling slightly exhausted from her encounter with the amazing Mrs. Delano, Felicity stood in the front doorway and waved as Blanche drove her buggy out of the ranch yard.

Standing in the yard, Josh watched Blanche leave with a feeling of relief. The woman was too forward by half. Imagine asking him outright why he'd never taken her to bed. And the things she'd said about Felicity. Josh shook his head in wonder, wishing Sam Delano had taken a firmer hand with his outspoken wife to cure her of her boldness. Since it was now far too late for such a remedy, Josh shifted his attention to the woman who would be his own wife.

She was still standing in the doorway looking slightly dazed from meeting Blanche. Meeting Blanche could do that to a person, Josh knew, recalling that Blanche had actually mellowed through the years. When he had first met her, twelve years earlier, she had smoked cigars and cursed like a man. Blanche was not the type of woman he wanted to influence his wife. He took the porch stairs two at a time.

"What did she say to you?" he demanded of Felicity.

Felicity blinked, startled at his tone. "We talked about the wedding," she said, extremely conscious of how close he was standing and loath to tell him what else they had discussed. "I asked her to stand up with me."

"You did what?" Josh exploded.

But Felicity did not flinch. She remembered what Blanche had warned her about. Straightening to her full height, she looked right into his gray eyes. "I asked her to stand up with me. Who else was I supposed to ask? I don't know a single other woman except Candace."

Josh scowled at her, unable to argue with her reasoning but unwilling to accept it either. This wedding was turning into a regular circus. People would be talking about it for the next hundred years. He changed the subject. "If you're ready, let's go. I'll tell Gus to hitch the wagon." Again, he added silently. Maybe this time they would get away without incident.

They did, but by the time they were out of sight of the ranch, Felicity began to grow uneasy at the prospect of being alone with him for a long period of time. "How far is it to town?" she asked.

"An hour or so," he replied without looking at her.

Felicity knew he was still angry, although why he should be, she had no idea. If she had thought for one minute he was upset about Mrs. Delano being her matron of honor, she would have brought the subject up again and cleared the air. Some instinct told her his fury had nothing to do with that, however, so she remained silent, acutely aware of his body so close to hers on the wagon seat.

Once again she got that strange ache, deep inside of her. Even in the open air with the stiff Texas breeze whipping around where they sat high on the wagon seat, she could still smell his musky, masculine scent. She knew exactly how hard and warm his body would feel if she were to reach out and touch him. Curling her hands into fists against the temptation, Felicity tried to concentrate on watching the passing scenery. Unfortunately, the unbroken line of the prairie and the broad canopy of blue sky provided inadequate distraction.

It was only natural to feel the way she did, she supposed, after what had happened between them. Part of it was apprehension over the possibility that he might yet change his mind about marrying her. But what was the other part? Surely one lapse had not turned her into a complete wanton, and yet she could not stop the feelings of desire that tortured her every time he came near. What would become of her if he turned her out after all? She shivered slightly at the thought.

Josh slapped the horses to hurry them along. He was not enjoying the ride. Having Felicity so close, where he could feel her every move and practically sense her every emotion, was pure torture. Earlier, when Blanche had arrived, he had been anticipating taking Felicity in his arms. The sharp edge of that desire still prodded him, stirring memories of the way she felt and tasted, the way she yielded in sweet surrender.

Knowing that an open wagon on a public road was hardly the place to indulge such an impulse did nothing to improve his mood.

But that wasn't the only thing bothering him. As strongly as he wanted her, he still suffered from the guilt of having taken her once. Although he had denied it at the time, the truth was that he had seduced her, plain and simple. He had ignored her protests and taken advantage of her innocence to have his way. The knowledge disturbed him, and even the fact that he intended to marry her did little to ease his conscience.

"I want you to buy whatever you need in town," guilt prompted him to say. "I want you to have a fancy white wedding dress, so buy the best material they have." That should please her, he thought. Only the very privileged could indulge in the custom of wearing white on their wedding day. Felicity stared at him in amazement. What on earth was he thinking of? "I can't wear white," she said in a strained voice, only too conscious of how risky it might be to displease him by refusing his wishes.

Josh frowned, a little surprised at her reaction. Of course, a white dress would not be of much use to a rancher's wife. Maybe she was only being sensible. "I know it's not practical and that you'll probably never be able to wear it for anything else, but I told you, I want this wedding to be fancy." He glanced over at her to be sure she understood that he wanted the best for her. She turned away from him instantly, but he still caught a glimpse of her face. Her expression startled him.

"I can't wear white," Felicity explained through stiff lips, "because of what happened." Too mortified to meet his eyes, she studied her clenched fists instead.

A full minute passed before Josh comprehended her meaning. When he did, he jerked the team to a dead halt in the middle of the road. "What the hell does that mean?" he demanded.

"You know what it means, and I've asked you before not to swear at me," Felicity said primly in an effort to divert his attention.

Her effort failed. "That's ridiculous! You can wear any color you want," Josh said, shifting in the seat to face her.

Dismayed at her own temerity, she still insisted, "Not white." She was a fool to oppose his wishes, but she could not seem to stop herself.

"No one's going to know," he pointed out impatiently, although his irritation was directed more at himself than at her. Knowing she had every reason to feel soiled because of what he had done only angered him more.

"I'll know," Felicity said softly, closing her eyes against the tears that suddenly threatened.

Dropping the reins, Josh grabbed her arms and turned her forcibly toward him. "But I'm the only one who'll care, and I want you in white." In his frustration, he longed to shake her, to use his physical strength to force her into accepting this small token of restitution. But when he saw her tortured face, he understood the folly of such a wish. His hold on her gentled as the urge to comfort her overwhelmed him, and he drew her close.

"No!" she said, but the sound was muffled against his mouth. In another second she was thinking "yes" as his arms slid around her, enveloping her in their strength. All thoughts of their argument fled before the onslaught of his kiss. The ache in her stomach became raw pain, and she clung to him frantically. The whole world lurched in reaction.

He thrust her away, muttering the kind of words she had asked him not to use, and scrambled for the reins. In the next instant she realized that the whole world had not lurched, only their wagon. The horses, sensing the lack of control, had made a tentative bid for freedom. He quickly checked that bid. By the time he had subdued the horses, Felicity had regained her own control. She tensed defensively, recalling Blanche's warning about letting him have his own way. She had weakened for a moment but she was strong now. Ignoring her previous fears about displeasing him, she prepared to fight him off if he tried to kiss her again. She simply could not allow it, not if she wanted to maintain her own pride.

Josh looked down at her, his breath still coming hard and fast. He wanted nothing more than to drag her over into the back of the wagon and make love to her until she sobbed his name. Then she would have neither the strength nor the inclination to deny him anything. Unfortunately, this was neither the time nor the place, a fact he had almost forgotten, with embarrassing consequences. He sighed in frustration.

"You are going to wear white," he said hoarsely, and slapped the team into motion. There, now she would understand that he was determined to honor her publicly, no matter what might have happened privately.

Felicity pressed her lips together over the sharp words that trembled on her tongue. Why was he so determined to humiliate her? She would feel like a hypocrite decked out in a virginal white gown. But she realized the danger of arguing with him anymore. If he thought her too stubborn and sharp-tongued, he might yet send her away. If he insisted, she would buy white material. She would simply not use it.

Felicity recognized the town of Prospect even though she had never seen it before. In her travels she had seen a hundred towns exactly like it: one main street where the major businesses were located, and several side streets lined with houses in varying states of repair. In spite of the uncomfortable silence that still stretched between her and Mr. Logan, she felt the familiar surge of excitement over coming to a new place. Apprehension mingled with her excitement this time, though. This time she was not the ragged child of an itinerant photographer, her figure hidden by a baggy dress, her golden hair braided tightly and tucked up out of sight beneath a faded bonnet so no one would notice her. Today she was Josh Logan's intended bride, and everyone would want to get a look at her.

Fortunately, the town was fairly deserted, although enough idlers lined the street to make her feel uncomfortable. All of them turned to watch her drive by.

Apparently oblivious to their audience, Mr. Logan pulled the wagon up in front of the store and hopped down to secure the horses. Felicity tried to match his cool unconcern and studiously avoided glancing at a single person. After what seemed a long time, he reached up to help her down from the seat. The sight of his hands reaching for her set her heart to skittering in her chest. Unconsciously, she drew back.

"Felicity," he whispered impatiently, "I'm hardly likely to do anything to you on Main Street."

Hating the hot color that rushed to her cheeks, Felicity allowed him to lift her to the ground. If her heart was still racing and her blood pounding in her ears, she gave no outward indication of it. Instead she walked calmly up the wooden steps to the sidewalk and on into the store.

She paused inside the doorway for a moment, allowing her eyes to accustom themselves to the interior dimness. Inhaling the mingled odors of leather and spices and tobacco and pickles and the thousand other fragrant items lining the shelves of the mercantile, she enjoyed the delicious realization that today, for the first time since she could remember, she was entering a store to buy something just for herself. How often had she accompanied her father to places exactly like this one and covetously eyed the beautiful goods displayed, only to walk out with nothing more than a sack of flour or a side of bacon? Today would be different.

"You must be Mr. Logan's… uh… friend," a female voice said.

Felicity looked up to see a middle-aged woman wearing an apron and a quizzical look approaching her. "Yes, I…"

"Mrs. Hankins, this is Miss Felicity Storm," Josh said, entering the store behind her.

"How do you do," Mrs. Hankins said, smiling warmly. "I knew it had to be you. I recognized the dress."

Felicity smiled back, remembering that Mr. Logan had told her how the lady at the store had chosen the dresses for her. "I'm very pleased to meet you," Felicity said. "And I want to thank you for everything you did."

"I'm just glad I was able to fit you," Mrs. Hankins said, stepping back a little to examine Felicity's dress with an approving eye.

"We're here to get some more things for Felicity," Josh said. "She'll need a wedding dress and-"

"A wedding dress! Then it's true! You really are getting married," Mrs. Hankins exclaimed delightedly. "We'd heard rumors but… Of course, I should have guessed something of the sort when he told me he wanted the blue dresses to match your eyes."

Felicity's blue eyes widened at this information. Somehow Mr. Logan did not seem the sort of man who would think of something so whimsical. Even Blanche had been skeptical of his impulsiveness. Could they both have been mistaken? Could he possibly have a romantic streak neither of them suspected? Then she remembered that he had mentioned something about matching the dresses to her eyes the day he had given them to her. Might he have some softer feelings for her after all? Felicity turned to him, hoping to find an answer in his expression.

Josh frowned down at her, easily reading the hope on her face. She wanted him to be in love with her, so smitten that he had ridden at breakneck speed to purchase a garment the exact color of her eyes. But he had done nothing of the kind. In fact, Mrs. Hankins had asked him what color her eyes were, and he had just happened to remember. Unwilling to explain all that, however, he shifted his attention back to Mrs. Hankins. "We want the very best white satin that you have, and some lace, too." he said, knowing such a request would wipe all other thoughts from Felicity's mind.

Once more Felicity felt heat scorching her face, but this time her humiliation produced anger. How she would have liked to inform Mr. Joshua Logan that he could take his white satin and lace and jump off the nearest cliff with them straight into the fires of perdition. Only the knowledge of how embarrassed Mrs. Hankins would be to witness such a display stilled her tongue. That and the fact that Felicity was biting her tongue fiercely.

Through the haze of her fury she heard Mrs. Hankins say, "I'm sorry, Mr. Logan, but I don't have any white satin, or white anything for that matter. I don't get much call for it. I could order some, but it might take a month or more. I don't expect you want to wait that long, do you?" she added with a knowing smile.

"No," Josh grudgingly admitted. Even the thought of waiting until Saturday was extremely unpleasant, but he hated to let anyone know how very desperate he was to have the girl.

Mrs. Hankins expected no other answer, however, and seemed not to notice any cosmic significance in his negative reply. She was already leading Felicity toward the back of the store. "I have a bolt of lovely gold taffeta that I think will be perfect," she was saying.

Felicity threw a triumphant look over her shoulder at him, irritating him all over again, but he swallowed his annoyance, determined not to let her see it.

"Hey, Josh, didn't expect to see you back in town so soon," Mr. Hankins said as he entered the store.

"I brought my…"-Josh had to stop to think of the word-"… fiancee into town to buy a wedding dress," he finished, hating the flush he knew was crawling up his neck.

Hankins grinned expansively. "Congratulations," he said, extending his hand to shake. "We'd heard about it but weren't sure it was really true. So you're finally getting married, huh?"

Josh shook hands with the storekeeper and nodded, unwilling to pursue this line of conversation. In his search for a new topic, he recalled what he had discussed with Hankins on his last visit. "Did that fellow you told me about ever show up in town again?" he asked, realizing he had completely forgotten to even mention the man to Candace in all the fuss about Felicity and the wedding plans.

Hankins frowned. "No. You mean he never showed up out at your place?"

"Not yet," Josh replied, uneasily aware of Hankins's concern. Josh had managed to convince himself that the stranger was harmless, but seeing Hankins again stirred his doubts.

"Mr. Logan, come and give us your opinion," Mrs. Hankins called from the back of the store.

Hankins laughed outright at Josh's startled expression. "She doesn't really want your opinion, you know," Hankins confided. "She just wants to get a feel for how much you want to spend. Now's the time to put your foot down and show your bride who's boss." He sent Josh on his way with an encouraging pat on the back.

More than a little puzzled, because he could not picture Felicity choosing something so expensive it would cause Mrs. Hankins concern, Josh strolled down the aisle to the rear of the building. His confusion grew when he saw the stubborn set of Felicity's jaw, but Mrs. Hankins's complaint put everything back into focus.

"Miss Storm doesn't seem to like the taffeta," she said.

"Oh, I like it fine," Felicity contradicted. "It's just so expensive."

Josh glanced at the counter where Mrs. Hankins had unfurled a length of the golden material. It was the same sort of stuff Blanche's dress had been made of, except it was a color that didn't knock your eyeballs loose. He noticed Felicity's small hand fingering the edge of the cloth covetously, but she said, "It costs a dollar a yard, and I'd need more than eighteen yards of it to make that pattern…"

"I have this lovely pattern," Mrs. Hankins explained, showing it to Josh. "You see, she could use it for her wedding gown, but she could also make it up in calico without the fancy trim for everyday. It's very versatile."

"But eighteen yards…" Felicity protested, eyeing the fabric with longing. She had never seen anything so beautiful, but she couldn't expect Mr. Logan to spend that much money on her. How wasteful for a dress she would hardly ever wear! If she could not please him by wearing a white dress, at least she could please him by saving him some money.

"I'd suggest that you get at least twenty yards," Mrs. Hankins said cheerfully. "You'll want to make a bonnet to match."

Felicity drew her hand away as if the fabric had burned her. "Twenty yards! Absolutely not! What else have you got?"

Josh stared at Felicity. Even he could plainly see she wanted that material. Was she still trying to do penance for what had happened by denying herself something she really wanted? The thought sliced into him, lacerating his already sensitive conscience. He simply could not allow her to make any more sacrifices. "Cut her twenty yards of that yellow stuff and then show us what else you've got," he ordered, contradicting Felicity's instructions.

Smiling victoriously, Mrs. Hankins began to measure out the material.

Felicity stared at him in utter amazement. He actually seemed annoyed that she didn't want to squander his money. "I don't need a dress that expensive," she whispered to him.

No, perhaps she didn't, Josh thought, but he needed to give it to her. "Yes, you do," he said with finality.

"I have some brown velvet that will trim this beautifully," Mrs. Hankins reported, still smiling happily.

"Fine, measure it out," Josh said, pleased to be able to do something special for Felicity to prove how much he thought of her.

Felicity continued to stare at him. His gray eyes seemed to challenge her to argue with him. Fortunately, she was too flabbergasted to do any such thing. After the way they had argued earlier, she would not have been surprised if he had refused to buy her anything at all. Instead he was…

"And I want you to pick out enough material to make yourself three… no, four more dresses. Then you'll have one for every day of the week," Josh continued, determined that she would endure no more self-inflicted deprivations.

Felicity gasped. A dress for every day of the week! Nobody needed that many dresses! He was being outrageous. The spark of acquisitiveness she had felt upon entering the store was smothered under this avalanche of extravagance. "Mr. Logan, I don't want-"

"Get her everything she needs, and put it on my account," Josh told Mrs. Hankins, annoyed over the way Felicity had addressed him. She knew he did not want her to call him "Mr. Logan," especially in front of other people. What would Mrs. Hankins think?

Mrs. Hankins thought the whole thing was rather amusing, he noticed, glancing over in her direction. Well, he had provided.her with enough entertainment for one day. "I'll be back later," he said, and strolled purposefully out of the store.

Resisting with difficulty the urge to call him back and demand he countermand his orders, Felicity tried to remember to remain calm and unruffled in front of the storekeeper's wife. She didn't want to cause talk, and after all, she would get to choose fabric for four more new dresses. Since she had never owned more than two dresses at any one time in her entire life, such an opportunity should have thrilled her. It would have, too, if she had thought for one minute Mr. Logan's generosity was prompted by his affection for her. Instead he was buying the clothes just to be ornery, just because she had objected. And maybe just to prove his dominance over her. Sighing with resignation, she focused her attention on the violet-sprigged calico Mrs. Hankins was showing her.

Josh leaned against the barn wall and watched Felicity's bedroom window fade from light to dark. He tried not to think about the fact that she would, at that very moment, be climbing into bed clad in nothing but a thin nightdress. Sighing wearily, he reached into his vest pocket for the makings to roll himself a smoke.

"You sure did fix that girl up good and proper with clothes," Candace said from beside him.

He whirled, surprised to find she had come so close without his realizing it and annoyed that she had seen him staring at Felicity's window like some love-struck swain. "Not that she appreciates it," he replied, unable to keep the edge from his voice.

"You mean she didn't thank you for all those things you bought her?" Candace said in disbelief.

"Oh, she thanked me, all right. You would've thought somebody was holding a gun to her head to make her do it, though." The memory of her stilted "Thank you, Mr. Logan" still rankled. He had bought her the clothes to overcome the feelings of shame he knew still tormented her. He wanted to prove to her that he did not believe she had done anything to be ashamed of. He had even been stupid enough to expect her to be pleased. If he had remembered her reaction to the first clothes he had given her, he could have spared himself the disappointment. The girl simply did not know how to accept a gift.

"She's gonna look mighty pretty on her wedding day," Candace said, hoping to tease him out of his dark mood.

But Josh did not want to discuss his wedding day, certainly not with Candace. Casting about for a change of topic, he remembered that he had something important to discuss with her. "There was a man in town looking for you the other day."

Candace's dark eyes glittered in the moonlight as she pretended to simper. "Was there now?" she asked playfully.

"A colored man, and Hankins said he looked like you," Josh said, watching her reaction carefully.

"Looked like me?" Candace echoed, puzzled.

"Yeah, I figured he might be some kin of yours. Hankins said he was asking if you still worked for me and where my place was located."

Candace frowned thoughtfully. "Might be. I got lots of kinfolk, brothers and cousins and…" She paused. "How old a man was he?" she asked sharply.

"Hankins wasn't sure," Josh said, catching the change in Candace's tone but uncertain as to what it meant.

"Was he around my age or older or… younger?" Candace asked, her voice strange in the darkness.

"I really don't know. Is anything wrong?" he asked with growing concern.

"Wrong?" she said distractedly. "No, nothing's wrong." Then she smiled, her teeth a white slash in her dark face, but Josh knew the smile was forced. "Well, if he's kin of mine, I reckon he'll show up here sooner or later. Good night, Mr. Josh."

Josh frowned as he watched her hurry away. When Hankins first told him about the stranger, Josh had been certain the man could not possibly mean Candace any harm. He knew Candace could not have an enemy in the world. But for the first time in his life Josh considered the fact that he knew very little about Candace's past, a past that might possibly include someone of whom she would be afraid. But Candace was not afraid, not exactly. Her emotion had been something different, something he could not quite identify. He stood there in the dark, puzzling over it for a long time and trying not to look up at Felicity's darkened window.

"How long will you be gone?"

Asa Gordon looked up to where his landlady stood in the open doorway, and smiled. "Don't know exactly. This is a tough case and I might be gone several months," he reported, and returned to his packing. The task would not take long. His few changes of clothing would fit easily into the carpetbag sitting on his bed.

"Should I hold the room for you?" Mrs. Cruthers asked.

She was being professionally polite, in case someone happened to overhear, but Asa heard the petulant undertone in her voice. For the past several months, the buxom widow had been much more than his landlady. Sacrificing the cozy comfort of her bed was his only regret at leaving Philadelphia. But it was a tiny regret. He suspected that Mrs. Cruthers was beginning to imagine wedding bells in their future. Better to make the break a clean one.

"I reckon you can let the room go to someone else, since I don't know when I'll get back," he said, allowing just the proper note of apology to tinge his voice.

He had not expected a tearful scene, but he was equally surprised by her cold hauteur. "I should have figured as much from the likes of you," she sniffed, turning on her heel and stalking angrily away.

Asa paused in his packing, marveling over her reaction. Women, God love them, never ceased to amaze him. With a philosophical shrug, he resumed his chore. There would be other buxom widows. There were plenty of them in Texas.