was making her weak, making her think she might have to have support just to stand.
He shouldnât be that close to her. She knew it, yet she couldnât retreat.
âGet on back to the house,â he said. His lips barely moved. âYou donât belong out here.â
She didnât know if he meant the stable or the entireterritory, but she suspected he meant the latter. She squared her shoulders and said, âThank you again, Mr. Roper.â She left with as much dignity as she could summon. Had he sensed her shameful, illogical response to his closeness? He angered her and frightened her, but something about him touched a primitive part of her that she hadnât known existed, a part that she knew she must suppress.
She shaded her eyes with her hand as she emerged into the bright sunlight again, and paused when a flash of color caught her attention. To her left lounged a voluptuous young woman, with a thick mass of black hair spilling down her back. She had large dark eyes, lush red lips, and she was brazenly displaying the deep cleft of her full breasts under a white blouse worn off her shoulders. She obviously wore no petticoats beneath her skirt. The young woman met her gaze insolently, her dark eyes raking down Victoriaâs neatly coiled hair, starched long-sleeved, high-necked shirtwaist, and prim blue skirt.
This was the woman Victoria had seen on her arrival, whom she had taken for Carmitaâs daughter. What had Carmita said was her name? Victoria had an excellent memory for names, and she produced it after only a short moment. The woman was Angelina Garcia, a remarkably lovely name for a woman whose own beauty was as vivid as that of an overblown rose.
Since she obviously didnât work in the house, Victoria assumed that she must be married to one of the men. She wondered where they lived. She approached the young woman with a smile, determined to be friendly even though Angelinaâs manner wasnât welcoming.
âHello,â she said. âIâm Victoria WavâMcLain.â She wondered if she would ever be accustomed to her married name.
The woman regarded Victoria for a moment longer in sullen silence, then tossed back her long black hair. âIâm Angelina.â
âI saw you the day I arrived. I apologize for not speaking to you before now. Which one of the men is your husband?â
Angelina laughed, a sound of deep satisfaction. âNone of them. Why should I marry?â
Not married? That was confusing ⦠unless she lived with someone without benefit of marriage? Victoria felt her cheeks heat at her mistake. The poor girl, what an unstable, humiliating existence. But Angelina didnât act humiliated; she seemed positively gloating. Her eyes were alive with it.
In that instant Victoria knew she should walk away and return to the house where she was insulated from these people who were so very different from her. A lady would never dream of talking with a woman of ill-repute, which Angelina obviously was or she would never live with a man not her husband. Nor would a lady have confronted one of her husbandâs employees in the stables, as she had just done. But perhaps she was less of a lady than sheâd thought, because she didnât walk away from Angelina.
Instead she said, âYou have a man?â It was an inelegant question, but she didnât know how else to phrase it.
Angelina laughed again, a gloating sound that grated. âI have many men. All of them are my men. They all come to meâincluding your husband.â Again the laugh, and the dark eyes glittered with spite. âHe came back to me the night after your wedding! We all thought that was very interesting, no?â
White-faced, Victoria at last turned and walked away, but it was too late. The woman had scored her victory. Humiliation blinded her, and she didnât see the man until she walked into him. His hard hands grasped her shoulders to
He shouldnât be that close to her. She knew it, yet she couldnât retreat.
âGet on back to the house,â he said. His lips barely moved. âYou donât belong out here.â
She didnât know if he meant the stable or the entireterritory, but she suspected he meant the latter. She squared her shoulders and said, âThank you again, Mr. Roper.â She left with as much dignity as she could summon. Had he sensed her shameful, illogical response to his closeness? He angered her and frightened her, but something about him touched a primitive part of her that she hadnât known existed, a part that she knew she must suppress.
She shaded her eyes with her hand as she emerged into the bright sunlight again, and paused when a flash of color caught her attention. To her left lounged a voluptuous young woman, with a thick mass of black hair spilling down her back. She had large dark eyes, lush red lips, and she was brazenly displaying the deep cleft of her full breasts under a white blouse worn off her shoulders. She obviously wore no petticoats beneath her skirt. The young woman met her gaze insolently, her dark eyes raking down Victoriaâs neatly coiled hair, starched long-sleeved, high-necked shirtwaist, and prim blue skirt.
This was the woman Victoria had seen on her arrival, whom she had taken for Carmitaâs daughter. What had Carmita said was her name? Victoria had an excellent memory for names, and she produced it after only a short moment. The woman was Angelina Garcia, a remarkably lovely name for a woman whose own beauty was as vivid as that of an overblown rose.
Since she obviously didnât work in the house, Victoria assumed that she must be married to one of the men. She wondered where they lived. She approached the young woman with a smile, determined to be friendly even though Angelinaâs manner wasnât welcoming.
âHello,â she said. âIâm Victoria WavâMcLain.â She wondered if she would ever be accustomed to her married name.
The woman regarded Victoria for a moment longer in sullen silence, then tossed back her long black hair. âIâm Angelina.â
âI saw you the day I arrived. I apologize for not speaking to you before now. Which one of the men is your husband?â
Angelina laughed, a sound of deep satisfaction. âNone of them. Why should I marry?â
Not married? That was confusing ⦠unless she lived with someone without benefit of marriage? Victoria felt her cheeks heat at her mistake. The poor girl, what an unstable, humiliating existence. But Angelina didnât act humiliated; she seemed positively gloating. Her eyes were alive with it.
In that instant Victoria knew she should walk away and return to the house where she was insulated from these people who were so very different from her. A lady would never dream of talking with a woman of ill-repute, which Angelina obviously was or she would never live with a man not her husband. Nor would a lady have confronted one of her husbandâs employees in the stables, as she had just done. But perhaps she was less of a lady than sheâd thought, because she didnât walk away from Angelina.
Instead she said, âYou have a man?â It was an inelegant question, but she didnât know how else to phrase it.
Angelina laughed again, a gloating sound that grated. âI have many men. All of them are my men. They all come to meâincluding your husband.â Again the laugh, and the dark eyes glittered with spite. âHe came back to me the night after your wedding! We all thought that was very interesting, no?â
White-faced, Victoria at last turned and walked away, but it was too late. The woman had scored her victory. Humiliation blinded her, and she didnât see the man until she walked into him. His hard hands grasped her shoulders to
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