"No!" she said, and her mother's heart echoed, "Never!"
But something told her not to say it to him, not to reveal the depth of her emotions. The fright she had felt upon first hearing his voice only increased now that she knew his identity and heard the hatred in his voice. "What… what are you doing in Texas?" she asked, trying to still the tremor in her own voice but only partially Succeeding.
"This and that. Mostly I came to see the place that might've been my home if my loving mama had brought me along with her when she left." His lips were still twisted in that parody of a smile, but Candace could feel the hate emanating from him like a palpable force. She swallowed to ease her dry throat.
"I couldn't bring you here. You must know that," she said, still trying to remain calm. Surely someone had explained it to him, how she had begged to bring him along and how they had refused to let her. How she had left him with her mother to raise, knowing that at least he would be well loved and taken care of.
If so, he gave no indication. Instead he said, "I also wanted to see Joshua Logan, the boy you raised instead of me."
The implication was vicious and Candace gasped. "I didn't-" she began, but he cut her off.
"Oh yes, you did," he corrected maliciously, closing the small distance remaining between them. "And don't try to tell me they wouldn't let you come back home. Mrs. Logan told me different. She was only too happy to tell me different, time and time again, over and over and over." His hands came up, clutching at her shoulders until Candace cried out in pain. "She told me how she wanted you to come back with her, back home to your son, but you wouldn't come. You wouldn't leave the other boy."
The loathing in his eyes was a flame that seared her very soul, but that pain was nothing compared to the old agonies she had endured, the agony of leaving him behind in the first place, so long ago. She had to make him understand. "But you were twelve years old then, practically a man, and I'd been gone since you were three. You wouldn't even have known me! And you didn't need me! You had my mother and my sisters. They raised you! They loved you, didn't they?" she challenged.
Something flickered in those hate-filled eyes, a hint of secret torments, and Candace continued desperately. "Joshua was so little and he didn't have anyone! His mother left him and he only had his father…"
Those dark eyes grew cold again. "Oh yes, his father," he repeated mockingly. "We all have to do what his father says, don't we? He wouldn't let you bring me along to Texas because a little nigger bastard might embarrass Mrs. Logan, isn't that right?" But he didn't pause for her reply. "And when he wanted you to stay here, you stayed here, with his son!"
At the time her reasons had seemed so important, but in the face of his hostility, she knew they were meaningless. The words she would have spoken in explanation died on her lips. She spoke the only ones that still seemed to matter. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Sorry!" he exploded, shoving her away from him in disgust. The table behind her toppled with a crash, and she fell amidst the broken glass. A shard sliced the palm of her hand, but she did not even feel the pain.
His hands balled into fists as if he would strike her, and that was when Candace noticed the guns he wore. Two guns, slung low on his hips and tied down to his lean thighs the way a gunfighter would wear them. "No!" she murmured in protest at what her son had become.
But he misunderstood her. "Don't beg! I'm not going to hurt you," he informed her with contempt. "Even though I have every reason to kill you for what you did to me, I'm going to let you live so you can see what I've got planned for Joshua Logan."
"No! Not Joshua!" she cried, scrambling to her feet. She could not let the two of them fight. If they did, she knew one of them would not survive, and she could not bear to lose either of them. "I'm the one who hurt you! Joshua never did anything to you!" In desperation, she grabbed at his arms.
Jeremiah's broad mouth curled into that evil smile again. "He stole everything that should have belonged to me. I'm going to get a little of it back. I might even take his bride!"
"No!" Candace screamed, frantically clutching at him as if she might somehow shake him loose from his evil intentions.
But he shoved her away again. She staggered, almost falling. "Don't do this, Jeremiah, please!" she begged, but he only laughed, a horrible sound that sent prickles of terror racing down her spine.
Then she noticed the crimson stain on his sleeve. "You're bleeding," she said with genuine concern.
He glanced down to where she was pointing and plucked at his sleeve in momentary confusion. Then he noticed her hand. "That's your blood, old woman. How fitting. Your blood in me and now on me. It's like a baptism. And pretty soon, with a little luck, I'll have Logan's blood, too!"
With that awful promise, he slipped silently out the door and disappeared into the shadows of the ranch yard. "Wait!" she called, but he was gone. For one instant she considered raising an alarm, calling out the men to hunt him down and bring him back. Then common sense stopped her. He had, after all, done nothing except threaten and frighten her. Perhaps that was all he wanted to do; perhaps that would be enough to satisfy his craving for revenge. Although her mind knew she was grasping at straws, her mother's heart longed to believe the lie. She remained silent, weeping in the doorway until the throbbing in her hand grew so intense, she could no longer ignore it.
Josh awoke with a start, disoriented and confused to find himself still abed with the sun shining so brightly outside. And what was wrong with the bed? The sides were so high and… Then he remembered. He turned his head on the pillow and smiled. All he could see was a cloud of yellow hair. She was lying on her stomach, her face buried in the pillow, one hand stuffed beneath it.
Still smiling, he reached over and brushed the silken hair away from her cheek. Asleep, she again resembled the child he had once thought her. No trace remained of the tigress who had driven him insane last night. His smile faded as he wondered if it had really been as wonderful as he remembered. All he was really certain of was that he had never made love to a woman so completely before. He had wanted to devour her, to absorb her into himself. Even the piercing pleasure he recalled so vividly had not been quite enough to satisfy him.
A slight sense of unease prickled against his skin, and he turned onto his side to study her face. As he did, his disquiet grew. Emotions he had hoped never to feel again churned inside him, the same emotions he had experienced after the first time they had made love. That time he had blamed them on guilt, but he no longer needed to feel guilty. He had married her. He had made everything right. Last night was sanctioned both legally and morally.
And still he felt the weakness, that debilitating weakness he knew could destroy him. He wanted her, of course. He understood that much of it. She was the most desirable woman he had ever known. But there was more. There was the need, the need that having her simply did not satisfy. In fact, having her only made it worse.
Josh frowned down at her lovely face. How could so tiny a creature be having such a profound effect on him? He considered this question for a long moment before shrugging it off. Really, he was being top analytical about the whole thing. He wanted her and he had her. She would share his bed every night for the rest of his life. Surely in the course of the next fifty years he would be able to slake this mysterious desire. At least he would have a lot of fun trying, he decided.