“No, I didn’t know that,” she confessed. “That’s what happened last night?”
“I’m afraid so. But you were in no danger of being ravished, honey. I have never hurt a woman, or taken a woman who wasn’t willing. I wouldn’t force you, Sharisse. You do believe me, don’t you?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted frankly.
“Well, come here then, and I’ll prove it to you,” he said.
“What?”
“Just come here. For God’s sake, I won’t hurt you.”
She walked toward him slowly. He could only hope it wouldn’t take too long for her to trust him.
When she reached the table, he stood up and gathered her in his arms, ignoring her startled protests. He kissed her long and hard and didn’t stop until he felt her resistance ebbing. Then he let her go.
“There you see?” Lucas said. “It’s not easy to walk away from you, but I’m going to do it.”
And he walked away. Sharisse wanted to stamp her foot, watching him go, for he had flamed those feelings in her again and she hadn’t wanted it to end.
Eleven
The invitation to dinner at Samuel Newcomb’s ranch that evening put Sharisse into a dither. It came in the late afternoon, and she wanted to refuse. It was unheard of accepting an invitation that allowed for only a few hours’ preparation. But Lucas had accepted for them both, informing her after the messenger had gone.
And what could she say? Samuel Newcomb was the richest man in the area. She had seen his name all over Newcomb, on the meat market, the grocery, a saddleshop, the bank, even the newspaper. As long as she was going to be there for a while, it wouldn’t hurt to meet the town founder. He might be able to help her if things got any worse.
It had been a terrible blow to find that Lucas couldn’t afford to send her home. Not only was she stuck there, it also heaped additional guilt on her. The man had used all his money to get himself a wife, and all along she’d never intended to marry him. If Stephanie didn’t send her money, she would have to ask Lucas to pay for her trip back as soon as he could, and that would mean he’d have to wait that much longer to get another mail-order bride. How despicable, using him this way! She was beginning to wonder if her sacrifice had been worth it.
One good thing about the dinner invitation, she didn’t have to cook. Lucas wasn’t too delighted about going to the Newcombs’, but he had fought with Mr. Newcomb’s employee last night and was probably uncomfortable because of that.
Sharisse was late getting ready. She had to prepare everything herself, including a bath. But when she was finished, she was pleased. Her evening gown was unwrinkled, and she had copied one of Jenny’s simpler coiffures, finishing it with a flower garniture of small white roses. The gown was one of her favorites, a combination of lampas and surah silks in blue and ivory. The neckline was deeply rounded, the sleeves short. Her long ivory gloves looked bare without bracelets, and a simple velvet ribbon around her neck had to suffice for ornament, but she felt the ensemble was complete with an ivory pelerine trimmed in mink.
She was just fastening that short cape when Lucas knocked. She opened the door, waiting apprehensively for him to say something. His eyes swept over her. He was freshly shaven and wearing a jacket. It was of fringed buckskin, hardly a dinner jacket, but it was clean. His white shirt was silk. He wore gray pants tucked into burnished black boots. And he wasn’t wearing his gun.
“Well?” she broke the silence.
“Fiona will be green with envy,” he said.
Sharisse frowned. “Please don’t tell me I’m overdressed. This really is just a simple dinner gown. I usually wore it only at home.”
“Not even good enough for going out, huh?”
“Lucas!”
“You’re beautiful, honey. And no, you’re not overdressed for one of the Newcombs’ get-togethers. The fancier the better as far as Sam’s concerned.”
“Who is Fiona?” she asked as he escorted her outside to the carriage Sam had sent.
“Sam’s wife. Bride, I should say. They’ve been married less than a year.”
“Is there anything I should know about them before we arrive?”
“Just that Sam has an eye for pretty ladies, so you’ll have to watch yourself.”
“But he’s married,” she said indignantly.
“So?”
The blunt response brought to mind her own experience with a married man, and she fell silent as the Mexican driver whisked them away from the ranch. Her memories assailed her, and none of them were pleasant.
