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unusual for a Peruvian Paso to be skittish about anything. They were bred for their calm temperament. Any horse showing signs of nerves wasn’t bred. The horses from Hacienda De La Cruz were considered some of the best in the world and yet Zacarias had spooked them all, even their working horses.
    She nodded her head, but she feared she’d made a very bad mistake, even as she sent a calming wave to the restless animals huddled in the far corner of the pasture. She gestured toward the sky and made a sign, pointing to her teeth, indicating a possible attack from vampires.
    Cesaro understood. He was the best on the ranch at interpreting her strange gestures. “We’re aware of the risk of an assault on the hacienda anytime one of the masters is in residence. Everyone is armed, the women and children are under cover—with the exception of you. The moment the horses settle, go into the house and lock it down.”
    She indicated that she already had done so and she touched the rifle, hand gun and knife she had on her. She was as ready for an attack as she could be, although the thought was nearly as terrifying as knowing she’d disobeyed Zacarias.
    Cesaro nodded approvingly. Marguarita, like everyone on the ranch, had been taught to shoot at a very young age. He suddenly stiffened and indicated something over her shoulder, alarm on his face. “Your man has come courting again.”
    She pulled the pen and paper from her pocket. He is certainly not my man. Why don’t you like him?
    “He’s your father’s choice, not mine. A city man.” There was a sneer in his voice. “He’s smooth, but he knows nothing of ranch life. You would be better off with Ricco or my son, Julio.” He leaned over his horse’s neck, standing a bit in the stirrups. “He does not ring true for me. He looks down on us, even you. Ricco or Julio suit you more.”
    She loved Ricco, one of the men working the cattle; she’d known him for years. And she’d grown up with Julio. It was impossible not to think of him as her brother. She wanted to please Cesaro almost as much as she wanted to please her father.
    He isn’t pressing a serious courtship. Since the death of my father, he has only been kind.
    Cesaro shrugged, the frown still on his face. “You can’t bring him into the hacienda. Send him away, Marguarita.”
    She scowled at Cesaro. She knew her duty. She turned her mare back toward the stables, waving at Esteban Eldridge as he drove up to the corrals in his truck. She had no idea how the vehicle stayed as clean as it did. Esteban wore his wealth easily. He was a powerful figure, very attractive—at least he had been until she’d laid eyes on Zacarias. Even injured and burning, Zacarias exuded a tough, almost brutal handsomeness, although that seemed too insipid of a description. Zacarias dominated every room he was in. But Esteban didn’t scare her, or threaten her in the deep elemental way the eldest De La Cruz did. And she knew when a man was seriously interested in her—Esteban wasn’t. But she really enjoyed his sister’s company.
    Cesaro sat on his horse and watched her. She could feel his eyes burning into her and it made her upset that he would think she might betray their code of honor to an outsider. She ducked her head a little. She’d already betrayed their code, but not in the way he thought she might and no doubt he would know soon enough of her sins.
    She swung off the mare, watching as Esteban strode toward her. He made a striking figure as he covered the ground in long purposeful strides. Her father had introduced them and, clearly, Esteban Eldridge was her father’s choice for her. He’d acted as if he was courting her before the vampire attack, but he had never been truly serious. Esteban obviously liked to have fun and he was a city boy. Cesaro was correct when he’d said Esteban looked down on the ranch workers, barely acknowledging them. How could she fall in love with a man like that?
    He had been kind after her