Page 125 of The Enchanted Land

She smiled up at him. “I met some very interesting people, some gentlemen.” She emphasized the title.

Seth was serious. “Do you remember a Charley Farrell?”

“That’s funny. I thought of Charley just tonight. Mr. Farrell is not a man one should think of too often. Theron and I did a lot of work for his wife. A pleasant woman, but the most atrocious taste imaginable.”

“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 askedmeto 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.”

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