Page 54 of The Enchanted Land

“You don’t look as if you are having a very good time.”

She smiled at Joaquín. “I just wish Seth were here. I hope nothing has happened at the ranch.”

“You are the talk of everyone here tonight. There isn’t a woman at my house now who wouldn’t sell her soul to be as beautiful as you are. Yet you stand here and worry about problems on the ranch. Smile, sweet Morgan. Laugh and enjoy yourself. Come, dance with me, and let’s give them more to talk about.”

“You’re right, Joaquín. I’ll have to stop worrying.”

Joaquín led her onto the dance floor, and Morgan was again glad her Aunt Lacey had arranged for dancing lessons.

“Who would have thought you could be so beautiful? There is a woman making her way toward us who has the most incredible look of hatred directed right at you.”

Morgan turned to see Marilyn Wilson staring at her. She was escorted by a slim man with a pencil-thin mustache. He seemed almost as young as Morgan.

“Why, Mrs. Colter! What a pleasant surprise.”

“Hello, Miss Wilson. Are you enjoying Lena and Joaquín’s party?”

“Oh, yes.” She looked up at her partner and then at Joaquín. “But I would have thought a bride would be dancing with her husband.” She smiled. “At least for the first few weeks.”

Morgan smiled back sweetly. “My husband was detained tonight, but it is nice to be a bride, don’t you agree, Miss Wilson? Oh—pardonme. Of course, you wouldn’t know, would you? Joaquín, could we get some champagne? I seem to be suddenly very thirsty.”

At the long table set against the wall, Joaquín gave Morgan a glass of chilled champagne. “You are deadly to your enemies, are you not?”

“Oh, yes, I guess,” Morgan was distracted as she glanced toward the door again.

“Come little one, I am not used to women who find me boring.”

“Oh, Joaquín, it’s not you; I’m just worried about Seth.”

“Come walk with me in the garden. The fountain is lovely in the moonlight.”

She looked at him apprehensively.

“I promise not to molest you or even to kiss your lips.”

She smiled at him, took his extended arm, and walked out through the open door with him into the moonlit garden.

Seth entered in time to see his wife, her body clad in red silk, smiling up at Joaquin. She took his arm and they stepped into the moonlight.

Seth’s impulse was to run after her and knock the little Spaniard down. He’d like to have seen Joaquín on the floor, blood running from his nose. Damn her! I leave her alone a minute and she runs off with someone else.

“Seth! It’s good to see you.” Marilyn followed his eyes to the open door. She had also seen Joaquín and Morgan leave together. “Well, aren’t you going to ask an old friend to dance?”

“Marilyn.” He had just realized she was there.

“Seth, honey, would you like some refreshment? You look like you’ve just had a shock.”

He allowed himself to be led to the table. After three straight shots of Joaquín’s twelve-year-old bourbon, he felt stronger.

“Feel better now, honey?”

“Yes, I do.” He looked at Marilyn. Her large breasts were nearly spilling over the top of her dress. In the last few months he hadn’t looked at any woman other than Morgan. After another shot of whiskey, Marilyn began to look even better to him.

“Would you care to have this dance, Miss Wilson?” he asked sweepingly.

Marilyn felt good being in Seth’s arms again. None of the other men she had ever had made her feel the way Seth did. Most men cared only about themselves, but when Seth made love to her, he made sure she enjoyed it, too.

“I met your wife a few days ago.” She had his attention. “It seemed so strange to me that she was a new bride, yet running around the countryside with that Lena. You know what Lena’s like. I thought it was odd then, and here she is tonight flirting like a … like a … Well, I’m sure you understand my distress.” She cast him a sidelong glance to make sure he was listening. “And that Joaquín Montoya, of all people!” She smiled when she felt Seth’s arm muscles tighten. “Yes, everyone is talking about them, about how they keep standing in dark corners, giggling and drinking champagne together. I’m sure if I had a husband, I wouldn’t—”

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