"So when he'd exhausted all reasonable possibilities, Lathrum came to me. Offered to let me have the pick of his next crop of foals if I could get the horse broke. He's every kind of mean I've ever heard about, but he has a reputation for keeping his word, so I said I'd give it a try."

Anne leaned back a little and tilted her head at him, understanding at last how Fortune came into this.

"That horse was one useless son of a b.i.t.c.h. If he'd been any other color n.o.body would have even gelded him - they'd have shot him. Took all fall and winter, but he was broke enough for a careful man who knew what he was doing by spring, so I took him back and looked over Lathrum's foals and picked this one." He nodded toward Fortune's stall.

"It surprised me a little Lathrum didn't try to hide one that good. Seemed like he really was keeping his word. Said he weaned all the foals in late September, to come back in October, to let them know and they'd have the colt caught up. What they gave me was what you saw in the barn a month ago. I got back with him the afternoon before you got here. A day earlier and you'd have been meeting one of Frank's hands over here to take care of the stock."

Their eyes met, both knowing how very different their lives might be if that had happened.

Anne couldn't understand or accept it. "You mean they did it on purpose? What did they do?"

"Lathrum left Raoul to face me, and he was so d.a.m.ned embarra.s.sed he didn't say much. Probably weaned him too early and kept him half-starved right up till I sent word I was coming for him, then stopped feeding him at all. Felt sure I should have shot him right there out of kindness but it seemed wrong to even leave them the body, so I nursed him home. Took three days to come thirty miles. The light was gone from his eyes."

"I don't understand. What does that mean?"

"It's a dead look in the eyes they get when the will to live is gone. They don't eat even with food in front of them then. So, you see, Lathrum tried to cheat me, and you cheated him."

"Will Fortune be all right now?"

"Might never be as good a horse as he would have. Stunted, crooked legs, something like that, but it won't make any difference in what he'll be as a sire, and that's what I wanted him for."

Anne sat frowning into s.p.a.ce, and Cord wondered if he had capitulated too late and she would not let go of her anger. She rea.s.sured him with a smile after a moment, and said, "It's strange, isn't it. I'm having trouble believing a man could be so cruel to a horse, and yet look what men did to us."

To us. He hadn't thought of it that way before. "Will you tell me now what you're going to do when you leave here?"

She stood, brushing her skirt. "Yes, but inside. It's too cold to sit here any longer,"

and then she threw him a quick grin and added, "if you'll tell me how you were going to get through the winter if I'd taken your hundred and fifty dollars."

Then he was watching her back for a change as she carried the pail of milk to the house. It galled him to let her do it, but he knew better than to even think about lifting anything yet. How, he wondered, was he going to get her to stay for a while, and how was he going to deal with the emptiness when she left, no matter when it was?

In the house, Anne said, "This time you first."

She had him, and he knew it. "I just borrow enough from Frank to get by when things get tight. I've done it a couple of times over the years."

Her feelings were in her voice. "From your brother Frank?"

"Mm, hm. Really impressed you didn't he? After he stops yelling he's a good man, you know. Best thing for you would be to ask Frank and Eph for help. They could see you live decently while you work things out."

She sat down across from him at the kitchen table and said, harking back to that long ago conversation, "I'd rather wh.o.r.e for strangers."

Cord knew it was not a good opening, but it was time to get it out. "Would you stay?"

"You mean would I wh.o.r.e for you?"

"No, d.a.m.n it, I seem to remember we're married."

"That farce of a ceremony didn't mean a thing, and you know it."

"What it means is up to us. If we mean to keep those vows, we're married."

"That's easy to say, but n.o.body else would feel that way. I would be just a wh.o.r.e as far as the rest of the world is concerned, and I'd feel like one."

"We could talk to Pratt."

"I don't want to talk to that yellow-bellied holy coward."

"Bet I could get a marriage certificate out of him."

Her narrow-eyed look said she wouldn't take that bet and she didn't think much of a marriage certificate obtained at gun point.

He hadn't really expected her to say yes. He backed off. "All right then, what are you going to do, you and your twenty dollars?"

"Well, I can't go to Aunt Clara now, so I'll just find employment. I'm a very good seamstress, and an excellent cook, and most people think I'm way too educated for a woman. I could teach."

"Great. When you're almost out of money and about to get to the whoring, save enough to send me a telegram. I'd like to be your first customer."

"That's what I thought you had in mind. It's not exactly the same thing as marriage."

"It's probably a bigger part of marriage than you'd like."

Anne ignored that. "Can I think about this romantic proposal for a while, or do I have to answer now?"

She could think about it forever if it kept her from leaving. "Think all you like," he said, and took his aching belly off for a nap. Sleep didn't come easily.

CHAPTER 9.

ANNE DID THINK ABOUT IT. Thought about little else for the next several days until her head ached and she felt dizzy following her own thoughts in circles. She gave no consideration to the social stigma that had only weeks ago kept her from even considering Cord as marriageable. The pressures of the opinion of polite society were responsible for almost forcing her into marriage to a man she found repulsive. She had been condemned for a sin she had not committed and was surprised to realize it only set her free.

In spite of how difficult he could be, she liked Cord far more than she ever had either Elroy or Richard. He was in many ways easier to be around than anyone she had ever known. If she wanted help or advice, he gave it, but he saw no need to force her to do things his way or to dominate her every action and word. More than ever before she realized how much Richard and his friends had patronized her.

Yet Cord was disturbing in a way no other had ever been. The sound of his voice, the sight of him, the way he looked at her, sometimes any of these things would cause an unsettling thump in her chest, a strange flutter in her stomach. She would find herself admiring the skill in his hands as they performed some ordinary task, the long, strong fingers unusually quick and dexterous, or watching him walk, even still slightly favoring his ribs, exhibiting a sensuous, cat-like grace.

She had been engaged to Richard Tyler, an extremely good-looking man, for four years, but could not remember ever noticing how he walked, could not remember anything about his hands. Recalling Richard at all was difficult, but the picture in her mind was a pale, bland, even featured image, lacking the ferocity but also the strength, confidence, and character of the distinctive bone structure and planes of Cord's face.

Anne accepted that his reason for asking her to stay was exactly what he stated.

Under ordinary circ.u.mstances, there were no decent women a man like Cord Bennett could marry. Then again, Anne thought ruefully, no one who knew the turns her life had taken these last weeks would consider her a decent woman.

She worried particularly about the physical part of marriage. Anne's knowledge had all been obtained from her married friend, Rachel Miles Ross. Neither her mother nor her Aunt Clara had ever been willing to say much on the subject. What they did say tended to be heavy on words like duty and obligation.

Rachel had described the marital act to Anne in minute detail. According to Rachel, the first time had been so terrible she was at first afraid she would die and then afraid she wouldn't. After that, Rachel said, it was merely like being torn apart.

Anne watched Rachel change from a girl so in love she couldn't talk about anything except her beloved Randal to an unhappy woman who almost hated her husband and wanted to become pregnant because, "Then he'll have to leave me alone."

Rachel's experiences had made Anne understand why women whispered about a woman's burden. Most wives, of course, seemed to manage much better than Rachel did.

Anne had been confident that that part of marriage to Richard would be distasteful, but not so dreadful as what her friend endured.

Still, Randal Ross was a gentleman. If he subjected his wife to such agonizing misery regularly, what on earth would marriage to a man of such raw power as Cord be like? The thought of him touching her like that gave her an unsettling hollow feeling in her stomach.

What would it be like being married to a man who had to be bribed into saying more than a few laconic sentences? He would not try to rule her or control her, but he wouldn't be affectionate or caring either. What would it be like to live a whole lifetime with a man so withdrawn? A man whose own family believed he was a criminal?

There was also what she had overheard Dr. Craig say about children. She had never envisioned marriage without children. If she never married, there would be none, but to be in a loveless marriage and not even have children to fuss over and love?

But there was no escaping the fact she wanted to stay. She loved it here and loved the life. Would that all change too if they were married?

And what of the other way? If she did go off and find a position somewhere, what would her life be like? Would it be better? Worse? After three days of almost constant headaches, she deliberately refused to even think about it for another day.

After her day of mentally avoiding the subject, Anne woke in the morning with the decision clear in her mind. She really wanted to stay - with this man, in his life. If he would give her the a.s.surances she needed, she would stay, and she would do her absolute best to be as good a wife as possible, living without what she already knew she could not have without resentment.

Then she approached him. "Did you mean it?"

"Yeah, I did."

"I need your solemn word of honor. When we get to town we'll get a regular certificate of marriage, and we will keep the vows absolutely as if we made them willingly at the time."

"I will if you will."

Anne bit her lip and took a deep breath, "I give you my word."

"And I give you mine. Suppose this means I get everything except obey."

She gasped, "You noticed! "

"Yeah, I noticed. If I can have to have and to hold, you can do anything else you d.a.m.n well please. I don't need to boss you around."

"I'll keep that in mind."

She felt self-conscious and nervous around him the rest of the day. He had more stamina and could do more all the time, but she knew his ribs were still giving him trouble. Although he had cut the strapping off himself days ago and refused to discuss the matter, discomfort showed in the way he stood and walked when it got bad. He still took a nap once or twice a day. He admitted no weakness, but Anne would often see the sudden onset of the drained, exhausted look. So that night when she started for the front bedroom, and heard, "Where are you going?" she looked at him with disbelief.

"To bed."

"Wives sleep with their husbands."

"But you can't...."

"No, I can't, but I can antic.i.p.ate. Come on along."

"I need to... fix my hair and things. I'll be right there." What she needed was time to adjust to the idea, and his eyes showed he knew it.

In the front bedroom she took down her hair and ran her fingers through it. The only comb in the house was in his - their - bedroom. She took off her clothes and put on his shirt that she was still using as a nightgown. It only hung halfway to her knees and was frightfully immodest. She suddenly remembered the morning he had made her take it off and looked at the bruises. Oh, Lord, what had she agreed to, what had she done?

Straightening her shoulders, she headed slowly for the back bedroom.

The lamp beside the bed was turned low, and Cord was in the bed, covers only to his waist. The dim light gave a burnished glow to his skin, highlighting some curves of bone and muscle, shadowing others, and only emphasized the latent power of his body, drawn thin by the recent illness. One quick peek left her knees shaking, yet she was drawn across the room as if compelled by some outside force. He opened the covers, and after blowing out the lamp, she slipped under them. Immediately his hands were on the front of the shirt, unb.u.t.toning.

She jerked away. "What do you think you're doing? Stop that."

"Taking the shirt off you."

"Oh, no, you're not. It's not decent."

"Fine, you take it off."

She was close to tears already. "It's not proper to sleep without a nightgown."

"s.h.i.t." He turned on his back staring at the ceiling in the darkness. "You take off that d.a.m.ned shirt and leave it off, or get the h.e.l.l out of here and you can have your word right back."

Tears spilled slowly across Anne's cheeks. Rachel was certainly right about this monstrous business, and it hadn't even really started yet. She took off the shirt.

What shocked her was his gentleness. He explored every bit of her, stroking lightly, his mouth occasionally nuzzling her shoulder. His touch made her aware of the hollows and curves, dips and swells of her own body as never before. Her skin came alive under his warm hands. Barely breathing herself, Anne finally realized he had fallen asleep, curved behind her, one hand cupping her breast and the other spread on her stomach.

She lay awake much longer, wondering how he could speak so roughly and touch so gently, wondering why Rachel had never mentioned that some of this was rather nice, and wondering what it would be like when he was better.

Within a few days Cord was almost crazed with frustration. Anne had been raised with so much modesty and propriety drummed into her she thought sleeping naked was a sin. She did her best to get that d.a.m.n shirt on every morning as fast as she could so he couldn't even feast his eyes on her. There was absolutely no way a woman such as this was going to cooperate enough to help him have the release he needed. The black fatigue that hit him like a hammer after only a relatively short time of arousal and his aching ribs and stomach combined to keep him from taking what would be available if he were healthy.

Worst of all, there was a wariness in Anne's eyes that had never been there before.

Her total lack of fear of him was one of the uniquely attractive things about her. She was not yet afraid, but there was something. Probably in another week when he was up to strength she would run to Grenerton, screaming all the way, and maybe, he thought cynically, it would be the best thing for both of them.

Anne knew he was angry with her. He had gone from short answers of only a few words to barely grunting in reply to questions or comments. He undoubtedly was disappointed in her. Having touched her so intimately he was probably just realizing her too tall body was also too slim and shapeless. Men liked soft, round women like Rachel.

Well, it was just too bad. He was stuck with her.

Even if she had married the Chicago fiance, Cord decided, she would never have been a pa.s.sionate woman. The man had obviously struck no sparks or she would have abandoned some of the prudish modesty. Probably genteel people like that coupled as neatly and properly as they did everything else.

However, knowing that fantasies of her eager and willing under him were only that - fantasies - did not make him want her less. The problem was to find a way to bury himself in the slim body without hurting her, disgusting her, or repelling her so thoroughly that once would be all he'd ever have. He spent a lot of time thinking over the stories he had heard from Frank back in his brother's womanizing days.

Sleeping with him was going to be one of the best things about marriage, Anne decided. She liked the feel of the work roughened hands petting and exploring her, liked falling asleep curled in his arms and waking up against him. He did this as silently as he did everything else, and she found herself wistfully wishing he would kiss her or murmur a few soft words, even if he didn't mean them. She reminded herself sternly of her pledge to be satisfied with what she could have.

She also liked the way his mouth traced patterns on her neck and shoulders and across her collarbones and having his hand cup a breast, thumb rubbing a nipple. However, when his head slipped to her breast and she felt his lips and tongue there, surprise caused her to stiffen and pull away. He didn't do it again, and the memory of the second of intense pleasure caused her much regret, but she was not brave enough to say anything.

Cord was still taking a nap in the middle of the day, and Anne relaxed in his arms at night, expecting only the usual pleasurable caresses. Sometimes by the light of day, she looked at herself in the mirror and blushed thinking of the places and ways he touched her. She spent considerable time daydreaming about kisses and tender words, but now she lay on her side facing him in the darkness, eyes closed, a slight smile on her lips as his fingers circled gently on the soft skin of her inner thigh.

Astonishment did not break through the languor in time for her to react when he pushed a finger inside her, spreading the secret moisture that his touch always caused, and then pulled her against him, slipping her upper leg over his thigh and thrusting into her. She felt tearing pain, a dull bruising ache as her body opened. He pulled away slightly then plunged deeper.

Accepting in her mind what was happening, Anne was as motionless as a frightened small animal, waiting for the horror to begin, but even as he began to move in her, the initial pain receded. As her expectation of more pain lessened, so did her tense stillness, and when she began to relax, his hands guided her hips.

Anne tentatively relaxed completely just before Cord shuddered and she felt hot wetness deep inside, and then she was separate again. He had pulled right away from her, rolling onto his back, and his voice was very soft and low. "You all right?"