One Texas Night

CHAPTER 8

As the day passed, Michael checked on his sleeping wife several times before he finally settled in the study to work. A few of the ranch hands he’d become friends with dropped by to offer suggestions on what needed to be done on the ranch. With the Duke’s illness and Raymond only doing what had to be done, much had been neglected.

Michael took the men’s advice but knew he’d have to check the books himself. No one could find the bookkeeper named Fiddler or remember exactly when he’d left. Michael noticed there were slight changes in the printing of numbers starting about four weeks ago. The handwriting was close, but whoever had started keeping the books had a heavier hand.

The nurse passed in front of the desk at dusk and lit the lamps. Michael barely noticed. What he was discovering in the accounts of the ranch was shocking. For the last six months, since Uncle Raymond had been helping run the place, small amounts of money had gone missing. Sometimes bills were double paid while others went weeks on the books without any payment. Each month the amount disappearing off the books grew.

Then, the last month, the month before Duke Camanez died, nothing went missing. Apparently, Raymond was so sure he would inherit, he’d stopped stealing.

Michael frowned, wondering if the answer more likely might be that whoever was stealing feared being caught.

“Sir?” the nurse said softly as she lifted her bag.

Michael glanced up unsure whom she was talking to, but she was looking straight at him. “Yes?” he managed.

“If you don’t mind I’ll leave now. I’ve packed up all the doctor’s things.”

“Thank you,” Michael said. “Thank you for being so kind.”

She hesitated, then added, “If you and the missus need me when the baby births, I’ll be happy to come.”

“You know about the baby?” He couldn’t believe Cozette would tell anyone.

“I’ve seen the signs, but don’t you worry about me saying anything. The first one sometimes comes early. Nobody will count the months. You just send word if you need me.”

He managed a nod without raising his head as she closed the door behind her.

He tried to go back to the books, but he couldn’t focus. He’d seen the signs too. His bride hadn’t been lying when she’d said she might be pregnant. She was pregnant.

Forcing himself to concentrate, he decided to work on one problem at a time, knowing deep down that if she was truly with child, he wouldn’t be able to keep his word and leave her.

He wasn’t aware of anything but the books for a while, then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cozette slipping through the door.

With her puffy eyes and red nose, he had no doubt she had been crying. She smiled as she neared. “Thanks for handling everything today,” she said as she moved closer. “I don’t know what is the matter with me. I thought to only nap and ended up sleeping the day away.”

“You’re welcome,” he answered, wishing he could read her mind as she walked closer. “There was no need to wake you. You needed the rest.”

When her hand brushed over his head, he jerked in surprise. He hadn’t expected her to touch him. That hadn’t been part of the bargain. A few times she’d taken his hand or put her fingers on his arm, but nothing like this—almost a caress.

“You look like you belong in that chair, Michael. The housekeeper told me you’ve had the men do more work today than they’ve done in a month.”

He pushed his chair back. “Come closer,” he ordered gently, loving the easy way she came to him as if they were lovers.

She slowly moved against his side and he handed her his handkerchief. As she blew her nose, he pulled her onto his lap. As always, she hesitated like she might refuse his closeness, then relaxed against his arm.

“Are you all right?” he asked, playing with a curl of her hair.

“Everyone has been so nice,” she said, then laughed that little giggle she had that wasn’t really a laugh at all. “Well, everyone except Uncle Raymond, who is, at present, eating his dinner surrounded by your uncles because he keeps trying to get close to me.”

Michael brushed his hand over her shoulder and along her arm. The need to touch her grew stronger every hour. He’d learned that once he was close to her, she quickly grew accustomed to his touch and no longer tightened her muscles as if expecting a blow. Either she was learning to trust him, or she saw him as no more than a bothersome gnat to be ignored.

As Cozette talked about the guests and all they’d said, he slowly moved her hair away from her neck and leaned close enough to brush his mouth along her throat.

When she didn’t react to his light kisses, he opened his mouth and tasted her skin. He could feel her pulse beneath his lips. Curling his fingers into the collar of her dress, he tugged to reveal more of her neck. The material gave to his demand, showing the rise of her breasts against the black of her dress.

“Are you listening?” she said, tugging away so that she could look him in the eyes.

“Yes, dear,” he lied. So she wouldn’t consider standing, he circled her waist as he pushed the chair closer to the desk. He wanted her close enough to feel her breathing. “But before you continue I need to show you something I’ve found.” His hand rested just below her breast and he almost forgot what he was saying. She was perfection in his arms.

She leaned over the books unaware that he now cupped the bottom of one breast in his hand.

He pulled her back and whispered against her ear. “I love touching you.” His fingers closed gently over her breasts. “Am I hurting you?”

She shook her head. “I think I like the feel of you touching me.” She took a breath, letting the front of her dress press lightly against his hand. “It seemed a strange request but I’ve found it comforting.”

He moved his fingers over her, needing to feel all of her. “And pleasurable,” he whispered.

She stopped breathing for a moment, then took a deep breath and sat perfectly still while his fingers tightened once more. “And pleasurable,” she admitted.

He watched her face for any sign that she wanted him to stop. He saw none.

He kissed her ear. “I love being near you. The best part of the bargain we made was you agreeing to let me hold you.”

She giggled. “I had a feeling you’d say that. You’re an easy man to get used to.” She gently pushed his hand away. “Now, tell me about the books.”

He smiled in agreement to her suggestion, knowing he’d never be able to concentrate if he didn’t. As his hand brushed over her one last time, he promised, “Later.”

She managed a shy smile. “Later.”

They pored over the books for half an hour with her questioning and recalculating every step and him fighting the urge to touch her as he answered her questions.

When she took extra time refiguring what he’d already checked, he didn’t mind at all. As she studied the books one last time, he lightly began to brush his fingers over her gown. He’d gone long enough without the feel of her in his hand.

She’d grown used to him and except for now and then absently pushing his hand away she didn’t seem to mind his attentions. He kept his touch light, a promise between them.

Finally, when he thought he might go mad, she turned to him and smiled. “You’re brilliant. Now I have a reason to demand my uncle leave. It’s obvious he’s been robbing my father for months.”

To his shock, she leaned close and kissed him quickly on the mouth.

When she started to pull away, he whispered against her ear, “Do that again.”

And she did. Soft, light kisses that turned to fire as they lengthened. When she’d pull away her eyes were huge with wonder and her mouth pouty. Then, she’d smile and he’d ask for more.

They played the game until the housekeeper tapped on the door to remind them that it was well past dinnertime.

When they sat down to a late meal, neither seemed to want to talk. They both knew the bargain they’d set. As soon as Raymond left, there would be no reason for Michael to stay. Their time together was coming to an end and neither wanted to waste a minute of what they had left.

Finally, when they moved to the parlor with their cobbler, Cozette smiled. “You played your part of loving husband well. I’m growing very used to your kisses, sir.”

“You’re an easy woman to kiss, to cherish. That first man you knew, who hurt you and left you, was a fool.”

“How do you know he was the first man? Maybe I’ve had many lovers before.”

Michael shook his head. “In the study you were learning to kiss. If you’d had a lover, you would already have known.” He winked at her. “By the way, you’re learning very well.”

She blushed as she winked back. “I think I need a little more practice if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all. A woman with child should already have learned such things.”

He watched her carefully, guessing she was about to lie. “The truth, remember. Always the truth between us.”

She looked down at her bowl. “It’s worse than you think. He didn’t just hurt me and leave me with a child, he was paid to do so. Paid to dishonor me.” She gulped down a sob. “And somehow it is all my fault. I should have fought harder or killed him. I should have . . .”

“It’s not your fault.”

She shook her head. “My father said I have my mother’s blood. Several times I heard him tell my uncle that it was just a matter of time before I disgraced the family.”

He cupped her face in his hands. “I didn’t know your mother, but if you are like her, she must have been a wonder.” He moved his thumbs across her cheek. “Tell me about her.”

In the shadows of a dying fire she told him all she remembered of a loving mother. When she could think of nothing more, they sat side by side.

Finally, she patted his leg. “Thank you. I needed to remember. No one mourned my father’s passing but I remember how it was when she died. I think I cried today because I’m alone, not because I’ll miss my father.”

“You’re welcome.” He covered his hand over hers for a moment. “And you are not alone. I’m right here beside you.”

Standing, he pulled her gently up and kissed her cheek. “It’s time we called it a night. Do you think you can undress yourself tonight? I’ve work still to do on the books.” He didn’t add that he wanted to hide the records while Raymond was still in the house. If the books were lost, it would only be his word against Raymond’s.

She looked up at him. “Of course. You’re right. It is late. Will you be sleeping in my bed?” It was such an innocent question, but there could be only honesty in the answer.

“Do you mind? I enjoy holding you while you sleep. I know you’re safe.”

“I don’t mind,” she whispered. “Just don’t wake me when you finally come to bed.”

He knew they were both adults, but there was something almost childlike in the way they trusted without reason. He wasn’t sure what she thought. Maybe she believed nothing would happen. Maybe she was simply living up to the bargain he’d requested.

But there was nothing childlike in the way he felt about her. Each brush of her arm or taste of her lips only left him wanting more. Two days ago he thought he’d be happy just to be able to be near her, but now he wanted more, much more.

In the eyes of God and by law they were man and wife, but in her eyes, he was no more than an outlaw she’d made a bargain with to hold on to her ranch. He had a feeling she would have found another way if he hadn’t been near.

If he took advantage of her, he’d never forgive himself, but if he walked away without loving her, he’d regret it until he died.

He walked her to the stairs. After she took the first step she turned and said good night.

He didn’t turn her hand loose. “Kiss me good night,” he whispered with more need than demand.

Slowly, she leaned forward. “Yes, dear,” she answered as she pressed her lips to his.

He closed the distance between them as if he were starving for what she offered.

When she finally ended the kiss, she was breathless.

“That was . . .” She couldn’t find the words.

“Perfection,” he helped. “Good night, dear. When I come to bed I’ll not wake you, but I make no promises not to touch you.”

Her eyebrows lifted and she whispered, “Oh.”

He smiled. “Would you like another kiss, my wife, or can you wait until I’m beside you?”

“No.” She stumbled up the next step. “Though I’ve no complaints about the one.”

He fought the urge to follow her up the steps. “You might think of wearing a gown tonight. I’m sure you’re tired of my wrinkling your clothes. I’ll kiss you again when I come to bed.”

“I’ll be asleep,” she said, her eyes wide awake.

He grinned. “I won’t mind.”

She turned before he could say more and disappeared up the stairs.

It took every ounce of his willpower to make himself walk to the office. His time was limited but he wanted to give Cozette something and the proof of her uncle’s embezzlement might keep her and her child safe. She might like flirting with him but that didn’t mean she wanted to give him half the ranch. He’d learned a long time ago to expect nothing.

Michael worked late into the night, forcing all his energy into his work so he wouldn’t think of the woman upstairs waiting for him to share her bed, but not her life.

Finally, when the numbers started to blur on the page, he hid the books beneath the sickbed, blew out the lamp, and climbed the stairs. He walked through his room, removed his shirt and old boots, and tossed them on the floor. A new pair of boots stood at the end of his bed along with a clean set of clothes he knew would fit him perfectly. She might not want him around long, but while he was there she treated him with more kindness than anyone ever had. He would miss the coffee served to him every morning and the cobbler every night.

When he lowered onto her bed, she was asleep, as she’d promised she would be. For a while, he just watched her, wondering what life would be like if she really belonged to him.

His hand moved beneath the covers. Only one layer of soft cotton separated his touch from her body. He moved near her soft breath and touched her lips with his as his hand began to explore.

The feel of her washed away all the exhaustion. He traced the outline of her breasts and slid his hand over her slightly rounded tummy, wishing it were his child growing inside her. When he moved her head onto his shoulder she made a little sound in her sleep, but she came to him willingly.

He began at her ear with his light kisses. When he reached her mouth, slightly open and waiting, he couldn’t resist.

He felt her come awake slowly, one sense at a time. She shyly kissed him back. He ran his hands into her loose hair and pulled her head off the pillow as he rolled and brought her on top of him.

In the shadows he watched her look down at him with sleepy eyes. “Kiss me again,” he whispered.

She smiled and did as he requested.

Before her lips pulled away, he whispered, “Again.”

She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

The kiss exploded with passion. She was fully awake now and wanting his nearness as much as he wanted her.

When they finally had to stop to breathe, he rolled her on her back. “Now again, if you don’t mind.”

“You don’t have to keep asking. I’ve no plan to stop until you beg me to.”

“I’ll take that challenge.”

This time, as their lips touched, he cupped her breast and brushed his thumb across the peak. She reacted as he hoped she would, by pulling him close.

“I want you so much,” he whispered between hurried kisses.

He told himself they were married. He had every right, but he knew he’d make love to her only when she said she wanted him. He knew if he ever took her as his real wife, he’d never leave. Not her, or the ranch, or the child she carried. There were some things a part-time husband could never do as part of a bargain.

He broke the kiss and looked down at her. In the pale light of the fire her lips were swollen, her hair was spilled across the pillows, and her eyes shone bright with unshed tears.

He rolled away, onto his back. Her silence had told him all he needed to know. He might want her, but she didn’t want him . . . not in the way he needed her. If she had she would have said something.

Mrs. Peters’s words came back to him. You’ll never be loved, but maybe you’ll make yourself useful. That was all he was to her. Useful.

He’d fallen for a woman who didn’t or wouldn’t love him. He’d fallen into hell.