Free Tender Is the Storm by Johanna Lindsey

vivid green eyes probed hers for a moment. “You’ve nothing to fear here, Sharisse. No harm will come to you as long as you’re my responsibility.”
    He left her standing there, weighing what he had just said against everything else that had beensaid and done that day. Nothing to fear? If only she could just walk away from the situation! But she had no alternative. Even writing her sister, which she intended to do that very night, would produce no results for some time. She was stuck, she was there under false pretenses, and she didn’t have the remotest idea how to make the best of things.

Seven
    Sharisse’s eyes opened to a blinding glare. She sat up quickly, confused, then saw that the hot light had been caused by the little standup mirror she had set on the bureau yesterday. She hadn’t realized that the mirror would reflect the morning sun right onto her pillow. The sun was rapidly heating the house.
    Slipping into the thin silk robe left on the end of her bed, Sharisse walked over to the window. The lovely robe, a creation of lime green and white lace, matched the negligee given to her by her aunt when they were in France. Sharisse had brought it along, and another like it, because she had thought she would be alone in some sweet little cottage, not sharing a cabin with a man.
    Packing thin summer clothing had been the only sensible thing she’d done thus far. Everything else could be counted as simply disastrous—especially her rash decision to leave home in the first place. When she thought of the safety she had thrown away!
    Sharisse sighed, looking out at the sun hiding behind the fat fingers of a giant saguaro cactus in the side yard. She could see part of the corral, and she realized with a start that the window was low to the ground. Just about anyone could have walked by it and seen her lying in bed.
    She yanked the curtains closed, her face flushing. There was only one person she could visualize looking in. She quickly closed the other curtains, too, then went back to sit on the bed, trying to calm herself. Everything in the room made her think of Lucas, the large round tub he had filled yesterday, still full of cold water, the tray of dishes. Her eyes fell on the blouse she had gone through so much discomfort to save, lying now in a torn heap in the corner where she had thrown it in a fit of temper. She had had to rip it off her back after all, something she couldn’t afford to do, not with the meager wardrobe she had. But she couldn’t very well have asked him to aid her, or Mack. Alone with two men—that was his idea of being chaperoned!
    On the bureau was the letter she had stayed up late writing. Oh, the things she had packed, including her personal stationery, thinking of a quiet existence in some quaint village! It was laughable. Negligees, linen morning gowns, day dresses, an outing costume complete with gloves, bonnet, and matching shoes. A formal evening dress. She had brought along more toiletries than she needed, fans, hair ornaments, silk stockings, petticoats and bustles, even an extra corset. She had stuffed her trunk and yet found herself in an unwelcomingclimate in an uncivilized area with nothing suitable to wear. It really was laughable, or something to cry over.
    And she did feel like crying, but she hadn’t said that to Stephanie. She had taken hours wording the letter just right so she wouldn’t throw her sister into a panic or consume her with remorse. She hadn’t mentioned the jewels at all except to say they were missing, and that was meant to explain how she had ended up in Arizona after all. There was a brief paragraph describing Lucas Holt, and she had been charitable in the describing. Yet she had made certain Stephanie understood that she couldn’t stay away very long. Something else would have to be arranged, and Stephanie would have to handle it.
    Sharisse dressed slowly, delaying as long as possible the inevitability of facing Lucas Holt again. Charley was still