Chapter Twelve
Tate sat perched on the windowsill, his back against the frame as he watched the last car head down the driveway. He didn’t have to look at the clock to know it was almost midnight. Every minute since the chivaree started had passed with agonizing slowness. He hadn’t even bothered to get the blankets out of the closet. There wasn’t much chance of him getting any sleep anyway.
The change in Abby’s breathing let him know she’d finally drifted off to sleep about thirty minutes earlier. He supposed he could go back to his own room now, if he wanted to, but he couldn’t seem to move. He felt numb inside.
How had he managed to screw everything up so badly? Not only had he lost Diane, now it looked like he was going to lose Abby and the baby, too. He couldn’t stand the thought of only seeing his child occasionally. Somehow, some way, he had to convince Abby to stay.
He shifted slightly so he could see the bed. There was enough light that Abby was clearly visible. The blankets had slipped down, exposing her from the waist up. Where had that gown come from? He’d been damn near to losing every shred of his control when he’d seen her standing in the middle of the room, the candlelight showing him every inch of her. The only thing he’d been able to think about was dragging her to the bed and making love to her all night long.
He still didn’t know what there was about her that made him want her so much. But he did know that in the week she’d been here, he’d gotten so used to having her around that it was going to leave a big hole in his life if she left, even without the baby being involved. He liked knowing that she was here, liked looking up from work and seeing her waiting on him. And he loved to hear her laugh. It was something he suspected she hadn’t done a lot of during her life.
A sound from the bed drew his attention upward. Her head was tossing back and forth in agitation. “No,” she mumbled. “No.”
Tate slipped from the window and moved to the side of the bed. “Abby?” He touched her gently, then sat on the bed next to her, his hands on her shoulders. “Abby, wake up. It’s just a dream.”
Her eyes flew open, confusion clouding them for a moment before they cleared. “Tate.”
“You were having a nightmare.”
She sat up, looking around the room as though she wasn’t sure where she was. “I was dreaming?”
“Do you remember what it was about?”
He felt her trembling under his hands and, taking the biggest risk of his life, stretched out next to her, pulling her gently down into the circle of his arms.
“No. Whatever it was is gone now.”
He could barely hear her voice, but his arms tightened and a slim thread of hope quivered to life inside him when she didn’t protest his nearness. She needed him. Even if she wasn’t willing to admit it yet, she needed him, and she’d need him even more the farther along she got in her pregnancy. He was going to make damn sure he was always there when she did.
“Go back to sleep,” he murmured. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
* * * * *
The movement of Abby’s hand on his back woke Tate instantly but he lay still, opening his eyes the merest slit. He was still on top of the blankets, Abby curled up against him, soft and warm. Early morning light streamed through the windows, but the air still held the chill of night.
As badly as he wanted to pretend he was still asleep, Abby was watching his face intently and he suspected she knew he was awake. He let his eyes open all the way.
“It’s Sunday,” Abby commented softly.
“I know.”
“Aren’t you going fishing?”
“No.” Tate kept his voice as quiet as hers. “It was a long night. I think I’d rather sleep in this time.”
She digested that for a second or two. Suddenly, she tugged on the blanket. “You’re cold. You might as well get under here, too.”
He sure as hell didn’t need another invitation, Tate thought as he slid under the blankets. Turning on his side, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. Thank God for his jeans. And even with those on, he wasn’t too sure she couldn’t feel the effect she was having on him. Maybe she just didn’t realize what it was.
Hesitantly, almost fearfully, Tate let his hand drop to her abdomen, his fingers splayed on the skin-warmed silk of the gown. Abby went very still.
“That’s our baby in there,” he whispered. “Can you imagine what it would feel like if someone were trying to take it away from you?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice was low, husky.
“It would hurt, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes.” Her voice dropped another notch.
“Abby, that’s how it makes me feel when you tell me you’re going to leave after the baby is born. You may not believe it, but I love our baby as much as you do. The thought of losing it is killing me.”
She made a choked noise and turned toward him, her face against his neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it like that. I just don’t want to see you hurting because of me.”
He stroked her hair. “It would hurt me a lot worse if you left.” Tate hesitated again. “Would you like me to tell you what happened with Diane the other night?”
Abby shook her head. “No, it’s none of my business.”
“It is your business. You’re my wife now. But I will tell you this. It wasn’t the idea of losing Diane that made me get drunk. I knew from the start it was over.” He took a deep breath. “Telling her was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m not used to hurting people. The guilt was killing me. And I guess you could even say it was because she stomped all over my ego. Men don’t take things like that very well and she fights dirty.”
“Are you sure that’s what it was?” Her voice was still muffled in his neck.
“Positive. And I can promise you right now, I’m never going to get drunk again for as long as I live. I thought I was going to die.”
He felt her lips curve up in a smile against his skin. “You were pretty sick.” She pulled back slightly and looked at him. “Tate, I can’t promise anything, but I’ll give it a chance. If it looks like it might work, I’ll stay.”
Relief left him weak. “Thank you.” He kissed her lightly. Maybe this would be a good time to push his advantage? He said a little prayer, took a deep breath and forced the words out. “Abby, do you think it would be okay if I moved my things in here with you?”
“In here?” She looked startled.
He brushed a lock of hair back from her face. “You said you were staying,” he reminded her.
“Well, yes, if everything goes well.”
“It will. You’re going to be my wife for a long time.”
“I guess so.” She still didn’t sound too sure.
“What if something happened during the night and you needed me? I might not be able to hear you.” Tate almost groaned. Even to him that had sounded pretty lame. “Okay, I’ll admit it’s been kind of nice being here with you, holding you. I wouldn’t mind doing it more. A lot more. Like every night. If it’s the sex you’re worried about, you don’t have to. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
He couldn’t believe those words were coming out of him. He wanted her so badly he wasn’t sure he could survive one more night without making love to her. He should have stuck a sock in his mouth before he inserted his foot into it.
“Well,” Abby started and Tate held his breath. “I guess it would be all right.”
A ridiculous surge of happiness hit him. Without stopping to analyze the feeling, he tried to suppress the urge to scream “Yes!” at the top of his lungs. Instead he smiled at her. “I’ll move in this afternoon.”
Abby shifted slightly. “Maybe I should get up and fix breakfast?”
“I’m not hungry yet and Buddy can take care of himself. We might as well take advantage of the chance to stay in bed for a while. It doesn’t happen that often around here.” He pulled her head back down on his arm. “There. Try to go back to sleep.”
She snuggled down and closed her eyes with a tiny sigh.
* * * * *
Buddy was sitting at the kitchen table, feet propped up on an empty chair when Tate entered the room later that afternoon. “Save me some of that pie,” he directed his brother, eyeing the aluminum pan.
“Don’t worry, there are two more just like it in the fridge. Along with all the rest of the food left from last night. Looks like we’re expecting a siege.”
Tate took a cup from the cabinet and poured coffee. “Where’s Abby?”
“Outside watering the plants you got at the feed store Wednesday.”
“I guess we need to get those in the ground today.” He turned toward the table only to find Buddy staring at him, his fork still. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I was wondering the same thing about you. You haven’t stopped smiling since you came in.”
“You want me to yell?”
“No, no,” Buddy hastily assured him. “You just keep right on smiling.” He picked delicately at the remaining pie. “You sure did sleep late today.”
Tate grinned at him. “Yep.”
“Didn’t go fishing, either.”
“Nope.”
“Sure was a lot of tromping around going on upstairs a few minutes ago. What were you doing?”
“Just moving a few things.” Tate took a drink of coffee.
“What things?”
He was beginning to wish he’d strangled Buddy at birth. “My things.”
“Were you moving them somewhere in particular, or just dragging them up and down the hall for the exercise?”
Tate ground his teeth together. “I was moving them to Abby’s room.”
“Oh.” Buddy gave a half grin. “Can I have some money?”
“No.” Tate glared at him.
“Well, it was worth a shot. I should have asked while you were still smiling.”
Grabbing the pie, Tate finished it off while Buddy protested. “Remember, it’s Sunday. Homework.”
“It’s done.”
“Excuse me. Did I just hear you say it’s done?”
Buddy shrugged. “It was so quiet around here this morning that I got bored. Figured I might as well get it out of the way.”
“You did take care of the stock, didn’t you?”
“Of course. Don’t I always on the weekends?” He sounded insulted that Tate would even ask.
“Just checking.”
“When are you going to bring the brood mares in? Some of them are getting close.”
“First part of this next week, probably. I’ll check them tomorrow.” He pushed his chair back. “Think I’ll go see if Abby’s ready to start on the garden.”
“Need some help?”
“The more the merrier.”
They had just started out the door when the phone rang. Buddy stopped. “You go ahead. I’ll get it.”
He waited until Tate was through the door then dove at the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Squirt, what’s up?”
“Joe. Thank heavens it’s you.”
“Who were you expecting?”
“Diane.” Buddy grimaced. “I think she might have called earlier. Abby answered the phone and whoever it was hung up on her.”
“Well, hell. She tried to get in on the party last night, too. Fred Thompson was at the gate. He told me later that she showed up in that fancy convertible of hers, all gussied up fit to kill and ready to raise hell. She wasn’t too happy when Fred kept her out. He said she slung gravel for a mile taking off.”
“I’m glad he didn’t let her in,” Buddy said fiercely. “You wouldn’t believe how different things are around here today.”
“Yeah?” Joe suddenly sounded a lot more interested. “Tell me about it.”
Buddy grinned. “Well, to start with, Tate’s bed hadn’t been slept in when I got up this morning. The door to Abby’s room was still closed. And they didn’t get up until almost noon.”
Joe cackled. “Hot damn! I knew all it would take was a little time alone!”
“That’s not all. A few minutes ago Tate moved all his things into the room with Abby. And he was grinning like an idiot when he came downstairs.”
“Yee-haw!” Joe yelled, almost bursting Buddy’s ear drum. “But we aren’t out of the woods yet. I know we can’t keep an eye on them all the time, but when you’re there, try to be the one who answers the phone.”
“I could turn the answering machine on during the day while I’m at school.”
There was a second of silence while Joe thought about it. “No, don’t do that. If Diane gets the machine she might be tempted to leave Tate a message. I don’t think she’ll do much during the weekdays anyway. She knows Tate will be out working and she needs him for an audience.”
“What if she shows up here in the evening?”
“Well, much as I’d like to, we can’t keep a guard posted at the gate. Tate might get suspicious. But if she does show up, whatever you do, don’t leave her and Tate alone together. You stick to him like you’re joined at the hip no matter what either of them says. If you have time, call me. I can be there in five minutes.”
“You got it.”
“I’ll let you go. Keep me posted, okay?”
“Okay. Bye, Joe.”
* * * * *
“Is that sanitary?” Abby wrinkled her nose as she watched Buddy dump yet another wheelbarrow full of horse manure on the garden site.
Tate grinned at her. “Take my word for it. It’s one of the best natural fertilizers around.” He had used the tractor to break the ground up, but later switched to the hand tiller. “That should be enough, Buddy.” As soon as he worked the last load of manure into the dirt, he shut the tiller off and picked up a tape measure.
“Here, you two stretch this out and I’ll drive in the stakes.”
“What are we doing this for?” Abby held one end of the tape while Buddy walked to the other end of the garden.
“The rows have to be far enough apart to get the tiller between them. When we get both ends staked, we’ll tie a string from the ones at this end to the ones at the other end. That will keep the rows straight.”
“I didn’t realize it was going to be this complicated.” She watched the muscles ripple in Tate’s back as he swung the hammer. He’d discarded his shirt within thirty minutes of starting to work and now sweat gleamed on his bronzed skin. She was still having trouble believing she’d actually agreed to let him move into her room. And even more trouble believing he really wanted to.
Last night it had seemed natural to have him there, comfortable even. For once she hadn’t felt quite so alone. But the thought of deliberately, intentionally, going to bed together was making her stomach quiver with nerves. Would they have to get ready for bed together? In the same room? What would they talk about?
Another thought hit her and she almost groaned. What did he sleep in? She was pretty sure he didn’t sleep in his jeans every night and she hadn’t seen any pajamas in the wash. That meant… Oh, God. He slept nude. Why hadn’t she thought about that before she’d agreed to this?
For that matter, what was she going to sleep in? She only had two worn-out nightshirts. And that gown. She didn’t think she could bring herself to wear that particular item again. Until she could come up with something else, it was going to have to be the nightshirts.
She’d wandered into the room across from hers earlier just to take a look at it. To her surprise, there had been dozens of bolts of material stacked up on a table. And the sewing machine was an old treadle type. She’d examined it closely and it hadn’t looked as if it would be that difficult to operate. Maybe she could—
“Abby?”
She tore her gaze away from Tate’s chest, suddenly realizing she’d been staring at him intently.
“What were you thinking about so hard?”
“Oh.” She fought the blush that threatened. “I looked in your mother’s sewing room earlier. There’s lots of material in there. Do you think it would be okay if I used some of it?”
“Sure. Use all you want. No one else is going to.” He gestured at the row of stakes. “We’re ready to move to the other side.”
“Okay.” Abby lifted her end of the tape measure and walked to the other edge of the garden, watching as Tate lifted the hammer again. Much to her embarrassment, she appeared to be developing a fixation on his body. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him.
But then, she hadn’t been able to for a long time now. The difference was, when she’d watched him at Delly’s she’d been under no illusions. She’d been able to control her feelings because she’d known there was no hope for her where he was concerned. Just being able to see him occasionally had been enough for her.
Never in a million years would she have dreamed they might end up married. Part of her was desperately afraid she wouldn’t be able to keep her feelings for him hidden. Especially when she had to share the same bed with him, and when even Tate himself seemed determined to bridge the gap between them.
She couldn’t let it happen, didn’t dare risk it. He might honestly think things were over with Diane, but Abby knew he still loved her. In spite of what Tate had said last night, her time here was limited. And when she had to leave, it would only make it harder for her if she really let herself love him.
But, oh, it wasn’t going to be easy. She let her gaze run over him, from his coal black hair right down to those muscular legs that seemed to go on for miles. That odd little coil of expectancy twisted inside her again and mentally she grimaced. Why did it feel like she’d been waiting all her life for something wonderful and mysterious and now it was almost within her grasp?
Her gaze moved back to Tate’s face and she suddenly realized he was watching her, had been watching her for some time now. A faint smile lifted the corners of his lips. Instantly, Abby’s cheeks burst into flames. Tate’s grin widened. Damn it all, the man knew exactly what she’d been thinking. And she had to go to bed with him tonight, every night. God help her.