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The Enchanted Land Page 9
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“At the stream.” Seth ran down the path toward the stream as Jake watched. Jake had never seen such a look on Seth’s face. “That young ’un has finally fallen in love,” he muttered and grinned. Then his smile changed to a frown. “God, I hope that Montoya isn’t up to some of his tricks with that little girl.”
As Joaquín was telling Morgan that she could be beautiful, he put his fingertips under her chin, lifting her lips to his, and bent his head to hers.
Seth entered the clearing just as Joaquín kissed Morgan. It took a second for him to take in the scene. He turned and left.
Morgan turned to see Seth’s broad back retreating into the woods. She forgot Joaquín.
“Seth!” She was surprised when he did not respond. She gathered up her long skirts and ran after him. Again he did not turn when she called. She caught up to him, grabbed his arm and planted herself in front of him.
For a second Seth nearly grabbed her to him. Then he jerked his arm from her grasp and angrily started down the path.
Morgan did not see Joaquín looking on with an amused smile.
“Seth! What’s wrong with you?”
He turned toward her with a look of hate. His voice was low as if he were controlling a great rage. “What’s wrong with me! I rode for two nights to be here with you and what do I see?” He jerked his head toward the stream. He paused and took a deep breath. His outward anger seemed to recede, but his eyes still blazed.
“I am sorry. It is my fault. I should have expected nothing. You offered nothing more than any other woman.” He extended a hand and cupped her breast, hidden under so much fabric. He was momentarily surprised at its fullness.
She inhaled quickly and jerked back from his touch.
“Isn’t that what you want, my dear, if not from me then from your handsome friend back there? It’s such a shame that I found you out—you are such an accomplished actress. You almost had me believing in your innocence.”
He turned and left her then. Morgan was totally bewildered. An actress? She remembered how she had run to him, eager for him. And then she remembered Joaquín’s kiss. Was that what had made him so angry? She must go to Seth, reassure him that Joaquín meant nothing to her.
Seth was unsaddling his horse.
“Seth…” her voice was gentle, “let me talk to you.”
“We have nothing to say to one another.”
“No, Seth. I realize why you are angry. You saw Joaquín and me, didn’t you?” Her voice had a pleading note. “It meant nothing, Seth. Not like when you kiss me.”
He turned to her, his lips snarling, his eyes cold. “As I have said before, I have no chains on you. You may kiss whomever you wish. As for comparing my kisses to Joaquín’s, that is the trick of a whore.” His laugh was ugly. “Stay away from me. I want no more part in any of your games.”
Chapter Six
“JAKE, what’s a whore?”
Jake nearly dropped the skillet of bacon. “What…?” he stammered.
“I’ve heard the word before, and I wondered what it meant.” It had been two days since Seth had called her that. Having lived alone with her mother and then in the very sheltered company of her Aunt Lacey and Uncle Horace, she had never before been exposed to such talk.
“Well … it’s a woman who gives her … uh … favors to a lot of men,” was Jake’s embarrassed reply. “Why’d you want to ask me that?”
Morgan couldn’t tell him about Seth’s remark. “I just heard it somewhere and wondered.” She sat by the fire mending a tear in Seth’s shirt. She had seen very little of him in the last two days. He and Frank had spent a lot of time fishing for catfish, and Morgan had begun to gather buffalo chips for the fire. There were no more trees now, only the plains. Morgan found the countryside ugly and hoped New Mexico wasn’t as flat or as barren as the prairie was.
The next day they crossed Turkey Creek. Morgan watched as Seth removed his shirt and struggled with the horses to get them up the steep, muddy bank. She was fascinated by the magnificence of his enormous body. She remembered his arms around her, the way he had so easily lifted her and spun her around. She trembled, remembering.
That afternoon the rain started. It came down so hard that Jake could hardly see to drive the horses. Morgan sat on the wagon seat, drenched.
“Get inside the wagon, you little fool!” Seth’s shout could hardly be heard. Water dripped down his hat and across his poncho.
“No!”
He lunged at her, and she quickly went through the opening into the dry wagon. She could see drops of water that had formed on the underside of the canvas.
Now that she was inside the wagon, she was very glad that Seth had made her come in. She removed the big dress and dried herself. It felt good to rub her skin until it glowed. She looked for something warm to put on and found a robe of Seth’s in the bottom of a trunk. The robe was enormous on her but very soft and warm. She stretched out on the narrow wagon cot and was soon asleep.
Voices awakened her. It was night, and the wagon had stopped rolling but the rain was coming down as hard as ever. She heard Seth’s voice shouting, very close to the mouth of the wagon. The end of the wagon canvas was opened and Seth climbed inside.
“Get up, wife, and perform some of your wifely duties.” His voice had a leer in it.
She hurried to obey, nearly tripping on the long robe as she did so.
“What do you have on?” he demanded.
“It’s your robe. I hope you don’t mind, but it was cold.”
He looked at her, his blue eyes clear in the lantern light. “Help me out of these wet clothes. I’m so tired I’m not sure I could get them off by myself.”
She was glad to be near him, glad to have him speaking to her again. As she removed his boots and then his wet socks, she kept asking herself where her pride was.
She dried his feet briskly, massaging the toes until some warmth returned to them. She unbuttoned his shirt.
Seth leaned back on his hands and suffered her ministrations as if he were a small boy. The front of the robe gaped open and he saw the rounding and the cleavage of her breasts. Her hair fell now, cascading around her shoulders and down her back. It glowed in the dim light.
As she finished unbuttoning his shirt, she put her arms around his waist so she could pull the shirt free of his pants. He looked down at the top of her head.
When she had removed his shirt, she began rubbing him with the towel, briskly so that he was warmed by the action.
Morgan was trying not to think of what she was doing, trying not to look at Seth’s massive arms and the mass of dark gold, curly hair on his chest. She rubbed the towel over his hard, flat, stomach muscles and on his back.
As she finished, Seth began unbuckling his belt to remove his pants.
“Seth,” she said hesitantly.
He grinned at her, knowing what she was about to say. “All right.” He took the towel from her.
Morgan sat on the bed as Seth removed his pants and began to dry off. His back was to her, and she tried not to look, but his body was beautiful, like the Greek statues of athletes she had seen in a Louisville museum. But Seth was about twice the size of the statues.
As she looked him over, he turned toward her, and she found herself staring at his manhood, something she had never seen before. She quickly looked away.
“My innocent little bride is quickly losing her innocence. Since you’ve told me whose kisses you like better, tell me—whose body do you like better?”
She had always tried to be friends with him. A few days ago she had thought maybe she could be in love with him. Now, because of one silly, accidental little kiss, he taunted her cruelly. All right, she could hate too.
“I like a gentleman better than an animal who can’t even be civil,” she spat.
“Well, the little girl drops her cloak of shyness. Tell me, miss, is there twenty-five thousand dollars to be collected for this marriage, or is that just another one of your stories? Possibly it was a