The Enchanted Land Read online

  “What about Farrell? Did you know him?”

  “More than I wanted to, I’m afraid. Theron rescued me several times from his greedy little hands. Finally he told Mr. Farrell that if he didn’t stop his attentions, we would not return. I think Theron also threatened to tell his wife. Charley was deathly afraid of her.” She sipped her wine. “Where did you meet him?”

  Seth looked down at his plate. “Just over a beer once. I didn’t really know him.”

  Morgan didn’t understand Seth’s sudden seriousness. If anyone should not be taken seriously, it was Charley Farrell.

  Martin removed the last of the dishes.

  “That was a feast,” said Seth. “It seemed I couldn’t get enough of everything.”

  “Well, if anyone could, you did. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anyone eat as much as you did.”

  He grinned at her. “I’m a growing boy. I need my strength.”

  “Martin, we’ll have coffee in the courtyard—if that’s all right with you, Mr. Blake.”

  They went outside and stood silent, listening to the New Mexico night sounds. There were coyotes near, howling. Seth walked to the little tiled pool. “It’s nice to be here with you, Morgan. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Gordon planned going away.”

  Morgan hid her face. The thought had crossed her mind, too.

  “Remember the days we spent in the canyon, below the Indian ruin?”

  “No.”

  He turned startled eyes toward her and then laughed. “Why don’t you come over here and let me kiss you?”

  “Stop it, Seth, or I’ll go inside. All of that is over. We’re just … acquaintances now.”

  “Good! Now that we’re acquaintances, we can become friends. And then we can become lovers.”

  “Seth, you are impossible!”

  “I hope you mean it’s impossible for us not to love one another. Did you ever ask yourself why you asked me to marry you, and not one of the other men at the Ferguson ball?”

  “I heard you had a ranch in New Mexico.” She could hardly tell him she had liked his muscular thighs! She laughed.

  Seth cocked his head and looked at her strangely. “Well, little one”—he walked toward her—“I think I’ll go to bed.” He put his hands on her shoulders and she drew back. He pulled her to him, their bodies close but not touching. Then he kissed her, lightly, on the cheek. “Goodnight, my wife.” He released her and was gone.

  She stood staring at the place where he had been. He had no manners! He should have walked her to her own bedroom instead of leaving her standing alone in a darkened garden. Angrily, she mounted the stairs. His door was closed and all was quiet in the big house. She pulled the pins from her hair and hastily removed her dress, carelessly tossing it over the back of a chair. She pulled a nightgown from the drawer, a thin muslin gown, almost transparent. In bed she tossed and turned, not even understanding the reason for her restlessness.

  Seth smiled as he heard her movements. Oh, yes, sweet … you do remember the time in the canyon.

  It wasn’t long after Morgan fell asleep that she began to dream. She was back with Jacques and he had one hand on her hair, a knife at her throat. The Indians were watching. Then she saw Seth, heard his voice, calm and patient. “I’m here, sweetheart. There’s no need to worry, mi querida.”

  She woke up slowly, fighting the horror of the dream. Seth held her in his lap. Her arms encircled his neck and held him tightly to her. He spoke softly, using sweet words while caressing the back of her head. She cried softly.

  “Do you want to tell me, little one?”

  The story came pouring out in a torrent. She told him about Jacques, about the dream. Then she told of Joaquín’s treachery, of the search that night for Seth, and then about the note. She told about Madame Nicole and how, on the night of the sale, she had seen Seth in the mirror and heard a music box. She didn’t see the color drain from his face as he remembered the night before Christmas when he had smashed the little box.

  Morgan sobbed out the story of her humiliation on the night of the auction. She told about her fondness for Theron. She told of that night when she had been so glad to see Seth, of how she’d prayed that he hadn’t died, even though she had thought it was a hopeless prayer. There were tears in Seth’s eyes. “I’m sorry, sweet one. I’m here, now, and I won’t leave you again.”

  She was like a child. He cradled and rocked her. She needed his tenderness. And she desperately needed the release the tears brought. Gradually, her breathing quieted and he knew she was asleep. Gently, he put her in bed and pulled the quilt about her. She made a small sucking sound, like Adam. He kissed her cheek and the tears that remained in her eyelashes.

  Reluctantly, he went to the door between their rooms. It was locked. Puzzled, he left the room through the door to the hallway. Out of curiosity, he tried the door again from his side. It opened.

  Gordon, he thought. Somehow Gordon had found out about them and had arranged that they be alone together in the house. Of course, it wouldn’t have been difficult to discover the truth, what with Morgan constantly shouting, “Seth Colter! You—!” It was music to his ears. If he guessed correctly, Gordon planned to stay away until he received word that Morgan and Seth were together again.

  Adam had just raised his fist to bang on his mother’s door when a big hand turned the unreachable knob. He looked up to see his father, his finger to his lips. Adam quietly followed Seth into the room, stopping to look down on the sleeping woman.

  Seth planted a soft kiss on the little pulse point below Morgan’s ear. She smiled in her sleep. Adam grinned up at his father and decided to imitate him. The boy’s mouth missed the mark, falling loudly and succulently on his mother’s ear. Instantly, Morgan’s eyes opened and her hand flew to her ear.

  Adam and his father laughed together in conspiracy. “The two of you! I can’t even sleep peacefully!” She had to laugh. They were so much alike. “At least you should behave better than your son. He has the excuse of extreme youth.”

  Seth’s grin broadened and Morgan could swear his chest puffed out at least another two inches.

  “Why are you strutting about this morning?”

  “That’s the first time you’ve ever admitted that he’s mine.”

  She frowned. “Of course, he’s yours. Just look at him. I don’t guess two people could look more alike.”

  Seth looked at his son adoringly. “I know, but I like to hear you say it anyway.”

  “You’re worse than Lupita’s roosters. He has to be yours. You’re the only man I ever—” She hadn’t meant to say that. He had no right to know.

  Seth sat down heavily beside her. “I’m the only man who’s ever made love to you?”

  She looked away, absently watching Adam, who was pulling the lace trim from a pillowcase. “Yes,” she whispered.

  He grabbed her shoulders, pulled her to him, and kissed her loudly and heartily on the mouth. “I know it shouldn’t matter, and I love you no matter what, but that makes me very happy. Son, before you destroy your mother’s bed linens, how about a piggyback ride downstairs?” Adam climbed on his father’s back and they stopped in the doorway. “Why don’t you stay there? I’ll give Adam to Roselle and I’ll come back and join you.”

  Morgan rubbed her mouth, then her ear. “I already have had two bruising kisses this morning. I certainly don’t need any more.”

  “Maybe on second thought, I’ll just push Adam out the door. He can yell all he wants—we’ll never hear him.” He closed the door quickly, as the pillow hit the door. Adam kicked his father in the ribs, laughing with gusto. He liked this man because exciting things always happened around him, like his mother throwing a pillow at them. She never did those things around other grown-ups. “Horse. Horse,” he screamed.

  At breakfast, Seth suggested that Morgan bring Adam to the river for a picnic lunch. He’d try to get away to join them.

  “Well, it may be difficult. I have a lot to do.” He was taking too