Honor Bound

Chapter 12

"I'm glad you chose my house to break into that night."

Greywolf tilted his head to look down at her. "So am I."

She lightly plucked at his chest hairs. They had made love frequently through the night, dozing in between. Their passions had been quick to kindle each time one touched the other. Now, their desire momentarily replete, they lay indolently among the tangled sheets. Last night's storm had long since passed. Morning light tinted the bedroom with a rosy glow.

"I was scared to death of you," she said.

"I was scared to death of you, too."

Laughing in surprise, she propped herself up on her elbows so she could look down on his face. "Of me? You were afraid of me? Why? Did you think I could overpower you?"

"Not in the sense you mean, but at that point in time, if anything could have overpowered me, it would have been a beautiful woman. You totally disarmed me. Why do you think I picked up that knife?"

"Did you think I was beautiful?" She glanced at him through a screen of demure lashes.

"Fishing?"

"Yes, husband. I'll never get tired of the compliments you continually shower on me." Her sarcasm was softened with a smile.

He had the grace to smile back. "I do think you're beautiful. But do you want to know what I thought when I first saw you?"

"Yes. What did you think?"

"Damn it all."

"What?"

"That's what I thought. Damn it all. Why did you have to be gorgeous and have the body and face of an angel? I wanted to curse you to perdition for looking the way you did. If you had been a man I would have clipped you on the chin and fled. Or if Miss Aislinn Andrews had been ugly, I would have tied her up, eaten her bread and sausage, drunk her milk, possibly stolen her car, and then hightailed it out of there."

"You did all that … but you spent the night, too."

He slanted a look down at her. "Even when I knew that multiplied my chances of getting caught."

"Why, Lucas?" Her fingers strummed his hard, flat stomach.

"Because I wanted to sleep with you."

She sucked in a short little breath. "Oh."

"But all the time I was wanting you, I hated myself for wanting you."

"Scruples?"

He laughed robustly. Aislinn loved the deep, rich sound still new to her ears. "Hardly. I've never had many scruples when it came to women."

"That's odd."

"Why?"

"After what happened to Alice."

He frowned. "I made sure I never got a woman pregnant." She gazed up at him inquiringly, and he gave her a rueful smile. "Except once."

They kissed.

"That time I wasn't thinking about anything but this." He touched her lower body, letting his fingers luxuriate in the soft, tawny hair. "I never took advantage of any woman. Until you. You were the exception to every rule I'd ever imposed on myself."

"It seems that way. I'm very glad. But why did you hate yourself for wanting me?"

"I didn't want to feel such desperate desire for any woman, much less an Anglo."

She looked pleased. "That's what you were feeling, a 'desperate desire'?"

"Yes," he admitted in a hoarse voice.

"The whole time we were together?"

He nodded seriously.

"And all that about my being your insurance policy?"

"Was my flimsy rationalization. Crazy as it was, I wanted to keep you with me. I felt guilty about disrupting your life and dragging you into that mess, but…" He gave a helpless shrug. "I couldn't bring myself to let you go even though all along I was so afraid you'd get hurt." He laid his hand on her throat and rubbed the soft skin. "I guess you got hurt anyway, didn't you?"

"I don't think so."

"Is that true, Aislinn?"

"That's true."

"God, I don't know why you haven't murdered me in my sleep."

She smiled down at him. "Because I was counting on that desperate desire still being there."

"It is. More desperate than ever." He wound her hair around his hand and, holding her head stilt for his fervent kiss, rolled her to her back.

After a lengthy kiss that left her breathless, she said, "We could have been doing this for weeks if you weren't so damned stubborn. You never give an inch, do you?"

He grinned lecherously. "Right now I know of several inches I could give you."

She pulled his hair by way of punishment for his ribaldry, but then she giggled. "I can't believe you actually made a joke."

"I can be extremely funny."

"With everyone but me. With me you're hardheaded and unbending. You can't be humorous because you're too busy being defensive about what happened that morning at Alice's house." He tensed up and started to move away, but she locked her arms across the small of his back. "You stay right where you are, Lucas Greywolf."

"I shamed myself."

"You needed me." The very softness with which she said it arrested his defensive reaction. "Needing someone is nothing to be ashamed of. Why is it so difficult for you to admit that you need another person occasionally, Lucas? None of us is entirely self-sufficient." Her finger touched his lips lovingly. "I liked being needed by you that morning. I wasn't offended by what you did. I was only sorry you didn't let me participate more."

She raised her head off the pillow and kissed him. At first he was resistant, but as her mouth continued to move over his, he began to thaw. When her head reclined on the pillow again, he followed it down and showed her just how much he needed her.

Later her hands glided down his sweat-dampened back, past his waist to his buttocks. "Do you hear something?"

"Yes," he mumbled into her neck. "My heart. It's still pounding."

She smiled against his shoulder, biting it softly, loving even the slightest trace of vulnerability he demonstrated. "Mine is pounding, too. But I was referring to something else."

"Like Tony?"

"Precisely Tony. Better let me up to check on him."

He moved away from her and lay sprawled on his back, watching with hot, possessive eyes as Aislinn pulled on the wrapper she'd been wearing the evening before and padded out of their bedroom.

Lucas didn't recall a time in his life when he'd been happy. He'd lived through happy occasions like birthdays and Christmases. He'd loved the times he and Joseph had hunted in the hills. He exulted in winning races at track meets. But happiness was something that other people had, people with normal families and backgrounds, people with undiluted blood, people who didn't live under stigmas, people who weren't labeled.

This morning Lucas Greywolf came as close to being happy as he ever had been. He even allowed himself to smile broadly just for the hell of it. He stretched like a sinuous mountain cat who had nothing more to worry about than what to eat for breakfast. Being happy wasn't nearly as frightening as he had thought it would be.

Aislinn, too, floated into Tony's bedroom on a cloud of joy. All the horrors of yesterday had been banished by Lucas's loving. Radiant sunlight was pouring through the windows. Her future looked sunny because she loved Lucas and had finally gotten him to accept her love.

He hadn't said be loved her, but one couldn't have everything at once. He desired her. He loved having her in his life and in his bed. Maybe love would grow out of that eventually. In the meantime, she would be satisfied with what she had. Life was good.

"Good morning, Tony," she called gaily as she entered the nursery. He was crying, whimpering actually. "Are you hungry? Hmm? Want a dry diaper? Wouldn't that feel better?"

The moment she bent over the crib, she realized that something was terribly wrong. With that inexplicable maternal instinct, she instantly realized that something wasn't right. The rattling sound of his breathing alerted her immediately. When she touched him, she screamed, "Lucas!"

He was pulling on a pair of jeans. He recognized Aislinn's cry as one of distress. He knew better than anyone that she didn't panic easily. Within heartbeats he was clearing the door of the nursery.

"What is it?"

"Tony. He's burning up with fever. And listen to his breathing."

His breath was making a hideous whistling sound as it rushed in and out of the tiny lungs. His respiration was quick and shallow. His face was mottled. And instead of making a lusty cry, which both his parents would have welcomed, he seemed barely to have the strength to mew pitiably.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Get Gene on the phone." Already Aislinn was stripping the infant and reaching for the rectal thermometer, which her baby books had advised she keep close at hand. Lucas didn't argue, deferring to her expertise in this situation. He raced through the house into the kitchen and quickly punched out the telephone number.

"Hello," Gene sleepily answered the second ring.

"Gene, Lucas. Tony's sick."

"A cold. I gave—"

"More than that. He can hardly breathe."

By now Gene had recognized the no-nonsense tone of Lucas's voice. "Does he have a temperature?"

"Just a minute." Lucas cupped his hand over the receiver and called out the question to Aislinn.

She appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, holding Tony against her chest. Her eyes were filled with fear. "One hundred and four," she whispered. "Lucas." It was a plea.

He reported the baby's temperature to Gene, who cursed. Lucas could hear Alice's voice in the background, asking of her husband who was calling and what was wrong.

"Dammit, Gene, what do we do?" Lucas demanded.

"You calm down for starters," Gene said reasonably. "Then you bathe Tony with cool water, try to get his temperature down. Bring him in as soon as you can get here."

"To the clinic?"

"Yes."

"We'll be there in half an hour or less."

Lucas hung up the phone without another word and repeated Gene's instructions to Aislinn. He finished dressing while she cupped cool water over Tony in the bathroom sink. Then they switched places. He took the baby and she slung on clothes, not caring what they were.

She diapered Tony, wrapped him in a light receiving blanket and left by way of the front door, where Lucas already had her car idling.

The clearing in front of the house was a quagmire from the torrential rain the night before. The spongy ground sucked at the tires as Lucas plowed the car toward the road. It wasn't much better. He skidded into the ditch several times, the back tires fishtailing in the mire.

Lucas's hands were clenched around the steering wheel and his back was hunched. The hard expression on his face reminded Aislinn of another time he had driven her car with the same kind of concentration. At the time that had seemed like a life-or-death situation. How tame it seemed compared to this. Now she knew the real meaning of fear: when one's child is in life-threatening danger.

The drive into town seemed to take forever. Tony's little body generated so much heat that he branded himself into his mother's breasts. He was fretful. Every time he dropped off to sleep, he would come awake choking, struggling with his effort to breath.

Gene and Alice came rushing out of the clinic the moment they saw the car race into the parking lot. "How is he?" Gene asked, opening Aislinn's door.

"Oh, Gene, help him," she pleaded. "He's burning up. I think his fever has gone back up."

They all hurried toward the doors of the clinic, scrambling over each other in their haste. Aislinn carried Tony into an examining room. The clinic wasn't open for business yet, so there were no other patients vying for the doctor's attention.

Alice and Gene methodically went about examining the baby, kindly elbowing his hovering mother aside. Aislinn looked toward Lucas for reassurance, but he was staring down at the baby. He had said little on the trip into town. She wanted to offer him comfort, but knew that anything she said would sound like just what it was, an empty platitude. And how could she comfort him when she was so terrified herself?

Gene listened to Tony's chest through a stethoscope. When he lowered the earplugs he said, "He's got fluid in his lungs. That upper-respiratory infection has gotten much worse."

"But he was getting better," Aislinn protested. "I've been giving him his medicine faithfully."

"No one's blaming you, Aislinn," Gene said kindly, laying a hand on her shoulder. "These things happen."

"He … he got wet last night. And chilled." She told them about the storm. "When Lucas took us back to the house, I kept Tony covered up as well as I could. Is that why this happened?"

There was a trace of hysteria in her high, thin voice. Both Alice and Gene hastened to assure her that the infection could have spread in any event. "He wasn't on any antibiotics," Gene said. "And it certainly wasn't negligence on your part."

"Make him well."

Lucas, who had remained silent until then, spoke from the side of the examination table where he continued to stare down at his son as though Tony were the center star of the universe and the light was about to burn out.

"I don't think I can, Lucas."

"What!" Aislinn gasped. She clasped her hands together and raised them to her white lips.

"I can't do much here," Gene said. "My suggestion would be to take him to one of the hospitals in Phoenix. Get him to a natal intensive-care unit where specialists can treat him. I'm not properly equipped."

"But that's hours from here," Aislinn said frantically.

"A guy I went to med school with heads up a helicopter ambulance service. I'll go call him. Alice, give the baby a shot to bring down the fever."

Unable to shake off the paralysis of fear, Aislinn watched Alice prepare a syringe and give Tony an injection. When that was done, she rediapered him and handed him to his anxiety-ridden mother. Aislinn leaned against the examination table and rocked back and forth, comforting the baby as best she could.

Gene returned and informed them, "He's dispatching a chopper immediately. It'll set down in that pasture on the north side of the highway just outside town. The pilot he's sending was here last year to pickup a snakebite victim, so he knows the way. Aislinn, Lucas, there will be a pediatric nurse, in the helicopter and specialists standing by when you reach the hospital."

"Is he that critical?" Aislinn asked, her voice wavering.

Gene took her hands in his. "I wouldn't alarm you unnecessarily. Yes, he's that critical."

* * *

A few hours later, the specialist at the Phoenix hospital confirmed Gene's diagnosis. Those intervening hours had been a nightmare for Aislinn. Lucas and she had met the helicopter and were hustled aboard. From that moment on, she realized she would forever have a greater appreciation for people in medicine. The nurse on board the chopper began administering to Tony immediately; by radio, she was in constant contact with the doctors at the hospital, so that by the time they set down on the roof, Tony was already getting the best of medical treatment.

As soon as he was carried into areas of the hospital restricted to them, Aislinn turned to Lucas, seeking the strength of his embrace. But even though he folded his arms around her, it was a mechanical gesture. His heart wasn't in it. She could feel the spiritual distance between them, yawning as wide as a gulf. Since they had left their home that morning, she had felt him slipping further and further away from her.

His face was closed, as though he had removed himself from the tragedy. But Aislinn knew he was suffering terribly. How he could enforce such rigid control over his emotions, she didn't know. She felt that at any moment she would begin banging her head against the wall, stamping her feet, tearing out her hair.

They waited, sharing a silence that was intolerable to Aislinn. Where was the loving comfort Lucas had given to Joseph and Alice when the old man had lain dying? Why was there none for her now? But Joseph had been an old man. Lucas had had years to prepare himself for the day his grandfather would die.

She was relieved when the specialist approached them. "Mr. and Mrs. Greywolf?" he asked politely. They nodded. "Your little boy is very sick," he began. He delivered a spate of medical terms that meant nothing to Aislinn, but he finished with, "Pneumonia."

"Then it's not so bad, is it?" Aislinn cried in relief. "I've known many people who have had pneumonia. They recovered without any difficulty."

The doctor glanced worriedly at Lucas before looking back into Aislinn's expectant face. "The recovery rate for pneumonia is high, but we're talking about a three-month-old pair of lungs. I'm afraid that reduces your child's ability to throw it off quite so easily."

"Then it is serious?"

"His current condition is extremely serious."

"Will he die?" She could barely control her wobbling lips long enough to ask the hateful question.

"I don't know," the doctor replied honestly. "I'm gonna fight like hell to keep him." He squeezed her shoulder in reassurance. "Excuse me, now. I should get back."

"May I see him?" she asked, clutching at the sleeve of his lab coat.

"I don't advise it. He's got tubes going in and out. To see him now would only frighten you more."

"She wants to see him." Lucas's sibilant whisper was more threatening than a shout. He and the doctor stared each other down for several seconds before the doctor relented.

"For one minute, Mrs. Greywolf. No more."

When she returned to the corridor, she was crying copiously. Lucas placed his arms around her and patted her gently on the back. But as before, she felt the invisible barriers between them, and there was little solace to be found in his aloof bearing and cool, gray eyes.

They spent the entire day and night in the hospital waiting room. Aislinn refused to leave even long enough to eat, though the nursing staff kindly urged her to. No one approached Lucas. Aislinn thought it was because they were afraid of him. What went on in the brain behind that implacable face remained a mystery to everyone but him.

Shortly after dawn on the second day, the doctor reported that Tony's condition was still serious. "But when he first arrived, I wouldn't have laid odds on him making it this long," he said, with a hit of optimism. "I think he's a fighter."

Aislinn took heart. She grasped at any straws of hope. Gene and Alice arrived soon after that. They had posted notices that the clinic would be closed and had made the long drive, unable to stay away any longer. Their sudden appearance had such an impact on Aislinn that she dissolved into tears of gratitude.

The Dexters expressed alarm at how drawn and pale she looked and begged her to check into a hotel and rest. She steadfastly refused. But they did talk her into eating the hot meal the hospital cafeteria sent up on trays for Lucas and her.

They were sitting in the waiting room, finishing their breakfast, when Lucas glanced up. He angrily tossed his napkin down and stood up, banging the table with his shin. "Who invited them?" he asked rudely, apparently not caring if the approaching couple overheard him.

"I did." Aislinn's voice was as unsteady as her knees as she stood up to confront her husband, who was obviously furious, and her parents, whom she hadn't seen or spoken to since her marriage. "Mother, Father," she said, stepping forward, "thank you for coming."

The Andrews seemed at a loss as to what to say or what to do. Eleanor fidgeted with the ivory handle of her purse, and Willard looked everywhere but at his daughter and son-in-law.

"We thought it was the least we could do," Eleanor said to break a silence that had grown uncomfortably long. "We're very sorry about the baby's illness."

"Do you need anything, Aislinn? Money?" Willard offered.

Lucas said something thoroughly obscene and went around them, shouldering them aside as he passed. "No thank you, Father," Aislinn said softly.

She was ashamed that her parents' solution to any problem was money, but she forgave them. Their being there was a comfort to her and, in light of their bigotry, more of a concession than she had had any right to expect from them.

She was relieved of having to deal with the awkward situation when Alice stepped forward. "I'm Alice Dexter, Tony's other grandmother. Please forgive my son's bad behavior. He's extremely upset."

She spoke softly. What impressed Aislinn, as it had from the night she met Alice in the hogan, was the absence of censure or prejudice in her tone. She looked directly at Eleanor, whose dress cost more than what Alice would spend on clothes in several years. She was neither hostile toward nor intimidated by the other woman. She extended her hand. "Please come meet my husband, Dr. Gene Dexter."

Aislinn left the four of them to get acquainted and went to find Lucas. He was standing at the end of the hall in front of a window. He was broodily staring out at a cloudless day very much the way Aislinn imagined he must have stared out the barred windows of the prison. For a man who enjoyed being outdoors as much as he did, it must have been hell.

"Lucas?" She saw his shoulders tense; otherwise he didn't respond. "Are you angry with me for notifying my parents?"

"We don't need them."

"Maybe you don't; I do."

He spun around. Only an act of will kept her from recoiling from the rage burning in his eyes. Taking her hand, he dragged her into a room that the nurses had made available to them, but which neither had used so far. When the heavy door silently swung closed, he faced Aislinn furiously.

"I guess you miss their damned money after all, don't you? What's the matter? Didn't you think I could provide sufficient medical care for my son? Did you call Daddy, begging forgiveness for marrying beneath you and asking him to please drop by with his checkbook?"

"I don't deserve that, Lucas!" She slapped him hard, hard enough for his head to follow the path her flying palm had taken. When his face came back around, his teeth were bared, and he raised his hand in retaliation. However, he stopped the downward arc of his hand before it could make contact with her cheek.

She threw herself against him and gripped handfuls of his shirt. "Go ahead. Hit me. Maybe then, just maybe, I'll know you're alive and not made of stone. I'll gladly invite you to strike me if that's what it takes for you to show some emotion, some feeling."

She shook him, grinding her white knuckles into the hard wall of his chest. "Damn you, Lucas! Talk to me! Yell. Scream. Show me your pain. I know it's there. I know you love Tony even if you love no one else. He might die and I know you're hurting because of it. Use me as your punching bag, as your sounding board. Let me share your grief."

She was crying, but the tears ran heedlessly down her cheeks. She licked them from the corners of her mouth. "You're so proud, aren't you? Nothing can touch you." She shook her head in denial of her own words. "I know differently. I heard you keening when Joseph died. I witnessed your pain. And that heartache can't begin to compare to what you're feeling now for your son. Your own stupid prejudice keeps you separate from the rest of the world, not the other way around. Are you so heartless that you can't even cry at your son's deathbed?

"You say you don't need anybody. But you do, Lucas. You just won't admit it. I needed my parents' support during this time, so I swallowed my pride and called them, having no guarantee that they wouldn't hang up on me. I need all the support I can muster today. I don't want to go through this crisis alone. Even if it meant losing face, I would have begged them to be here with me. You ridicule them, but you have more in common with them than you think. You're as cold and unyielding as they are. Only they relented. They're here for me now and you're not."

She gripped his shirt harder, almost tearing the fabric. "Whether you love me or not, you're my husband. I need you. Don't you dare withhold your support from me. You married me because you felt honor bound to do so. But is there any honor in deserting your wife when she needs you the most? Does it make you less a man to weep with me?"

She slapped him again. And again. Tears rained from her eyes and rolled down her face and dripped off her chin. "Cry, damn you! Cry!"

With a suddenness that snatched the breath from her body, he flung his arms around her and bent his head low. He buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. At first Aislinn didn't realize that her fondest wish had been granted. But then she felt his broad shoulders shaking and heard the wracking sounds of his weeping.

She encircled his waist with her arms and held him close while his tears bathed her neck and dampened her blouse. He cried on and on, and when she couldn't support his weight any longer, they sank to the floor, their arms still around each other. She pressed his head between her breasts, curved herself over it protectively and held him dearly, rocking back and forth as she often did with Tony. Her own tears were unstemmed and fell into his hair.

Lord, she loved him. She hurt with love.

"I want our baby to live," he sobbed. "You can't know what it was like for me to learn that I had a son. I want him to live. I want him to know me. When I was a kid, I wanted a father so badly, Aislinn. I want to be the kind of father to Tony that I used to dream about having." He burrowed his head deeper into her flesh. "Would God be so cruel as to take my son from me?"

"If he is taken from us, Lucas, I won't be able to bear your pain. I love you too much."

After a time, his tears ceased, but he kept his head nestled in her cleavage. He kissed her through the damp cloth of her blouse and murmured endearments, sometimes in English, sometimes in a language still foreign to her.

"I didn't want to love you."

"I know," she replied softly, combing her fingers through his hair.

"But I do."

"I know that, too."

He raised his head and looked at her through tear-washed eyes. "Do you?" For an answer, she lifted a tear off his glossy black eyelashes, looked at it, then at him, and gave him a bittersweet smile.

They shared one poignant second before there was a gentle knock at the door. Their expressions turned bleak. Lucas stood up and extended his hand down to her. Trustingly, she laid her hand in his, and he pulled her to her feet, placing a strong, supportive arm around her. They faced the door as though facing an executioner. "Come in," Lucas said. They expected the doctor.

But it wasn't the doctor who came through the door. It was Warden Dixon. Aislinn didn't recognize the man, but Lucas did. She could tell by the tensing of his muscled body.

"Hello, Mr. Greywolf. I know this is an awkward time for you." He was embarrassed, for it was apparent that they had both been crying. "I'm Warden Dixon," he said to Aislinn when it became obvious that Lucas wasn't going to make introductions.

"What are you doing here?" Lucas asked, curtailing the pleasantries.

"As I said, I know this is a terrible time for you. I apologize, Mrs. Greywolf, for the untimely intrusion. If I wasn't delivering good news I wouldn't trouble you at a time like this."

"How did you know I was here?"

"Mr. Andrews's secretary. I telephoned him this morning when I failed to contact you after trying all day yesterday."

"You've been diligent, Mr. Dixon," Aislinn said. "Have you come to see us about something important?"

"Your husband's exoneration." He looked at Lucas. "A judge has reviewed the transcripts of your trial. He has also considered the affidavits submitted to him freely by two men who have confessed to their crimes. The documents absolved you from any and all guilt. In fact, they stated that the only reason you were in the fracas at all was to break up the fighting. You were trying to prevent the violence, not perpetrate it. You are to be officially vindicated and immediately reinstated to the bar."

Aislinn slumped against her husband's arm with profound joy. Lucas, however, was barely able to support her. The news had made him weak-kneed.

Before either of them could voice their thanks to the warden, Gene came running into the room. "Lucas, Aislinn, come quickly. The doctor is looking for you."

* * *