The music ended, and Cotton approached with a wide smile and hand outstretched. “Do I get to dance with the bride?”
Rosemary placed her palm in his and curtseyed in a genteel gesture. “I’d be delighted, sir.”
Tanner frowned. “Bring her back to me, Cotton. And no fancy footwork, you hear?”
“Sure, boss.” Cotton’s eyebrows wiggled as he stood back and viewed Rosemary’s splendor. “New dress, huh, boss lady? You’re sure mighty purty tonight.”
A final wiggle of his brows brought a half smile to Tanner’s lips and Rosemary blew him a kiss as the ranchhand led her into a sweeping circle.
The festivities wound down once the punch bowl emptied for the last time. One by one, folks headed for the door, men carrying children slung over their shoulders, women taking empty lemonade containers home, and finally, the fiddle player with his instrument tucked beneath his arm. A lone young man remained, busily sweeping the new floor, sawdust flying in front of his broom.
“You ready to head out?” Tanner asked, catching Rosemary midyawn. “Where’s Mama Pearl and Anna? I didn’t see them leave. Or Scat, for that matter.”
“They’ve been gone almost an hour. Mama Pearl took the buggy and Anna home. She said it was time for her chile to go to bed. Scat went too, along with a couple of the ranch hands.” Rosemary looked out into the night beyond the schoolhouse doorway. “She really loves that little girl, Tanner.”
“So do you, honey. In fact, you make it look easy.” He swept the new door back and forth as if he tested its hinges. His hand on the latch, he turned to her. “She’s a lucky one, sure enough. Some kids never have even one person who cares about them that way.”
“Like you?” She placed her hand over his. “Surely, your mother loved you. Maybe she couldn’t help what she did.”
Tanner’s fingers moved from beneath hers, and his look was a warning. “I don’t want to talk about my mother. I’ve just about put her from my mind these days. But I’ll say this. She taught me one thing, and she did that well. I learned not to depend on anyone else for love.
“If I get it free and up front, that’s fine, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to take it for granted.”
Her throat was full, her whisper strained. “I told you this morning that I love you, Gabriel, and I guess I thought you felt the same.” She raised her hand as if to still a reply. “You don’t have to return my feelings. The love is still yours.”
He led her out of the building, into the night, his hand holding hers in an iron grip as they walked toward his horse, tethered in the field next to the school.
“Give me time, Rosemary. I’m doin’ the best I can. Just don’t expect too much from me.” He pulled the stake with a mighty tug and rapped it sharply against the ground, freeing it from excess dirt. He tucked it neatly behind his saddle.
“We’ll have to ride double, Rosemary. Looks like the wagon’s long gone. Cotton must’ve figured I could handle gettin’ you home without his help.”
Rosemary nodded tentatively. “I don’t know if I can reach the stirrup.”
“You don’t have to.” Reins in one hand, Tanner was in the saddle, his movement so smooth Rosemary blinked in surprise. “Turn around,” he said, and she obeyed, her back to the stallion.
Tanner reached to her, bending low from the saddle. He lifted her, fingers tight around her waist, and for a moment she was airborne. Then, as if he were an old hand at the game, he settled her in the saddle, her bottom tucked neatly against his groin, the horse shifting as her skirts flew.
Rosemary reached to tug them down, and Tanner’s chuckle vibrated in the night air. “Nobody’s gonna see your pretty legs but me, Rosie.”
She thought to argue, but his voice was softer, his good humor somewhat restored—and for that reason alone she would allow her calves to be exposed to the world in general.
From the far side of the schoolhouse a voice called out. “Everyone set to ride?”
A light inside the building flickered and died, and the door was pulled shut with a resounding thud. “All set here,” the young sweeper’s voice called out.
“Good night for a ride,” Tanner said, the pressure of his knees seeming to set the horse into a quick trot. “Relax against me, honey,” he told Rosemary. “You won’t bounce that way if you let me take your weight.”
She did as he asked, leaning against his chest, her head tucked against his shoulder. One big hand touched her leg, fingers widespread, easing her skirt from place. She drew in a startled breath, and from behind her Tanner’s words were slow and seductive.
“I told you to lean back and let me take your weight. First thing you do is get all upset.”
“Tanner!” The single word was a warning, and he relented, allowing her skirt to fall back into place.
He bent to nibble at her ear, then the tender skin beneath it. “Reckon I can wait,” he murmured, sliding that recalcitrant hand around her middle, edging it beneath her breast, and allowing her to feel the pressure of each finger.
“Tanner?” She repeated the warning, and was answered by the sound of satisfaction he growled in her ear.
“Just enough to hold me over, till we get home.”
Chapter Fourteen
Even bright sunlight couldn’t make Tanner feel better this morning. He tilted his hat lower over his eyes, darkening his view of the green pasture.
He’d been downright ornery last night, talking to Rosemary the way he had. Damn, the woman could poke and pry until she made all his sore spots come splashing to the surface. He’d tried, truly tried to be what she wanted, but pain kept leaking through, tainting his disposition some days until he almost hated himself for the words that escaped his lips.
She’d been quiet last night, as if her feelings were hurt, even though she’d allowed his hand freedom to cuddle and caress, and he’d tried to make things better once they got home.
Maybe there were things that even a good night of loving couldn’t put right.
Tanner led the colt out of the corral and into the pasture, releasing the braided rope halter and allowing the youngster to kick his heels and run free. He’d spent over an hour working with this one lone colt. An hour he should have spent washing up and putting his Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes on.
Instead he’d brushed and cared for the yearling, then worked him at the end of a lead rope until they were both sweating up a storm. A quick rubdown had solved the colt’s problem. He looked to be a likely prospect to stand at stud, along with his daddy, the big stallion who had sired him.
Tanner felt the sun hot against his back, drying the damp spot on his shirt where his perspiration had soaked the fabric. The braided rope ran through his fingers as he watched the cavorting yearlings, racing back and forth past the more sedate mares, with weanlings close by. The smaller, newest members of the group kicked up their heels, imitating the half-grown yearlings, and Tanner leaned against the rail to watch.
“Sure is a nice-lookin’ bunch, ain’t they?” Cotton joined him, and Tanner glanced at the older man.
“Tipper get the buggy ready for Rosemary yet?”
“Ain’t you takin’ her to church?” Cotton asked, eyes intent on the panorama before them.
“Not time enough to get cleaned up. She’s probably ready to leave.”
Cotton’s gaze slid over Tanner. “You got a good reason to be upsettin’ that girl this morning, boss?”
“She’s not upset.” He felt his jaw clench.
“Who’s takin’ her to church?” Cotton pressed on, and Tanner had to admire his bravery. The man was about as close as he’d ever be to a good cussing out.
“Whose business is it?” The words came out in a gruff, drawled sequence of syllables that should have been a warning.
Cotton was oblivious to danger. “You don’t want to do like your daddy did. You got a good woman, and she’s tryin’ hard to make herself into a good wife for you, boy.”
“Leave my pa out of it,” Tanner said,
grinding out the words. “Rosemary’s fine. I’ve seen to it she got to church ever since she got here, even hauled her there myself last Sunday. Tipper can do the honors this morning.”
“Tanner.” As if speaking her name had conjured up the woman herself, Rosemary spoke from behind him, and Tanner’s shoulders tensed. He supposed he owed her more than one apology, but offering it in front of Cotton was not what he had in mind.
“Yeah?” He turned to face her, acknowledging her presence.
She was subdued this morning, wearing one of her dark dresses, as if in mourning. Her blue eyes held not a glint of humor or a trace of affection. They examined him with a sort of wary speculation.
“I need to be workin’ on that harness, gettin’ it ready for tomorrow,” Cotton mumbled, nodding at Rosemary as he headed for the back door of the barn.
Tanner stuck his hands on his hips, his legs apart, as if he readied for a battle. “I thought you’d be gone by now,” he told her.
She was silent, her expression almost sorrowful as she considered him. “I’m leaving now. I thought you might like to tell me goodbye.”
His hands itched to reach for her, his body longing for her warmth. She was all that was kind and good and loving, and she expected the same qualities in her husband.
Her chin tilted up, her eyes glazing with a film of tears, and he could bear the separation no longer. With two long strides, he was in front of her. With one agile movement he’d gathered her in his arms, and scooped her from the ground. Their bodies so close they might have been in the very act of loving, she clung, her arms somehow circling his neck, her face buried in his shoulder.
“Damn, I’m sorry, Rosie. I’m all out of sorts this morning, and takin’ it out on you. I should’ve gotten cleaned up and taken you to church.”
Her voice was muffled against his shirt, but he heard the tears that vibrated each word. “I don’t even know for sure what I did to make you angry with me, Gabriel. I thought you were pleased with me when you went to sleep. And then this morning, you got up like a bear with a sore tooth.”
He didn’t even try to smother the chuckle her observation brought to mind. “You about got that right, honey. And I should have been in one dandy mood after you were so sweet to me.”
He shook his head, eyes closed as he considered his actions. “Hell, I don’t know why I get so miserable. Cotton’s doin’ most of the lookin’-after with Scat, and Mama Pearl’s taken over the fussin’ with Anna. And I’m standin’ around feelin’ like I ought to be the one that’s playin’ the part.”
He lowered Rosemary to the ground and brushed at her dress, where the dust from his shirt had clung. “I told you they could stay here, but I guess I wasn’t thinkin’ about what you’d expect of me. Or the danger to you with Nate runnin’ around causin’ trouble.”
His hand paused as it dusted off the bodice of her dress. “I’m not good at this, Rosemary.”
“No one expects you to be their father, Gabriel. You’ve taken them in and given them a home. That’s all I asked of you.”
“Maybe so, but I think you were hopin’ for more.”
Her smile was sad, her lips twitching as if she held back tears. “I try not to expect too much of you.”
A sense of shame, so overwhelming he shuddered at its weight, swept over him. “Come on, let me put on a clean shirt and change my boots. I’ll take you to church. We’ll see how fast that little mare can haul a buggy.”
“Are you sure?” Her voice was hopeful, and she scampered to keep up as his long strides led her through the barn and out the other side into the yard.
“I’m sure.” At the horse trough, he shed his shirt and bent low to splash the water over his body.
“I’ll get a shirt for you,” Rosemary said, almost running as she left his side. He watched, water dripping into his eyes as she climbed the steps and went through the back door into the house.
Sure as hell didn’t take much to make her happy. And at that thought, the wave of shame rolled over his soul with redoubled strength. Maybe going to church was exactly what he needed this morning. The hate that had propelled him for almost twenty years was eating him alive, and the thought of it spilling over onto the woman he’d married was not to be tolerated.
He’d mended his fences. That alone was cause for celebration, as far as Tanner was concerned. The day had gone well, riding to church, arriving just as the bell pealed its last note. They’d lined up in the family pew, looking like they belonged there, he’d decided.
Except for bedtime, when Rosemary had spent over an hour settling Anna into her bed, soothing her fears and finally waiting until the child’s eyes closed in slumber. On tiptoe, she’d left the child’s room and lifted a finger to her lips as Tanner met her in the hallway.
“She’s asleep, finally.” Her eyes rolled expressively as Rosemary uttered the weary statement.
“She’s gonna wear you out,” Tanner’d told her, struggling for a smile. Rosemary looked like she’d been pulled through a wringer, he decided. And he’d been planning all day for a warm settlement of their differences once he got her into bed.
Now even that had gone by the wayside. He stood by the bed, watching as Rosemary’s chest rose and fell in an easy rhythm. She was asleep—sound asleep, in fact. She’d pulled her nightgown over her head, easing from her underwear beneath its folds, then climbed into the big bed.
In just as long as it took him to check the doors downstairs and shed his own clothing, she’d managed to fall asleep. Locking his house was something he’d rarely done in the past, but with Nate Pender on the loose, it seemed like a good idea. And Rosemary had dozed off while he raced down the stairs and back up to their bedroom.
He blew on the fat candle, his breath a mighty puff, spewing his ire upon the flame. Sliding into his bed, he propped his hands behind his head, then turned to view Rosemary’s profile.
She slept like a baby, her hand curled loosely next to her face. He couldn’t resist touching her, not to rouse her, but simply to feel the texture of her skin beneath his fingertips. His hand lifted and fell, and he was only too aware that his intent was purely selfish.
He was hoping she’d awake, turn to him and offer herself to his arms. Yearning, as if he’d been denied her touch for a long time. And yet it was not so. He was tempted, his hands moving beneath his head, and he pressed downward upon them, lest they betray his need.
Such foolishness. He’d lived for thirty-four years without Rosemary in his bed. Now, after two weeks of her presence beside him, he was acting as if she’d gotten under his skin.
She rolled toward him, mumbling beneath her breath, and he called her name, softly, hopefully.
“Rosemary? Honey?”
A muffled sound was his reply, and then she settled against her pillow, and a soft snore escaped from her mouth. “Well, hell’s bells! Come here, honey,” he whispered, reaching for her and turning her to her other side. His arms enclosed her and she shifted, backing into his warmth, her bottom nestling against him.
It was worth it, the discomfort she brought with her a small price to pay for the satisfaction of holding her throughout the night’s hours, Tanner decided. He closed his eyes, and focused on the work he faced on the morrow, determined to ignore the thrumming of his manhood.
“Scat!” The shriek from the next room assailed his senses, and even before its echo had died, the call was repeated.
“Scat! Miss Rosemary!” Accompanied by loud sobs, Anna’s voice rang anew.
His grip on Rosemary was broken by her swift movements as she fled his arms. “I’m coming, Anna,” she called, her voice husky with sleep. She reached for her robe, staggering as she headed for the door.
From the hallway, Tanner heard voices blending, then the sobbing of the small girl as Rosemary entered her room. Scat’s slim form stood in the doorway and Tanner sat up in bed. “She’s havin’ a nightmare, I think,” the boy said quietly. “I figured Miss Rosemary could do better than me.”
&
nbsp; “Yeah, well you better get back to bed,” Tanner told him, quelling his first instinct to offer company to the boy. It was enough that Rosemary would probably stay the night in the next room. He’d be damned if he’d spend his sleeping hours trying to solve the problems of the world.
Breakfast was a quiet affair, with Rosemary looking like something the cat dragged in and wouldn’t eat. Even her hair had suffered the effects of the night, he noted, pulled back in a long tail she’d tied with a piece of yarn. She was moving slowly this morning, tending to her chores, but without the usual smiles and greetings.
As if they sensed the wary peace between the boss and his lady, the men kept silent, addressing neither Tanner nor his bride. They ate quickly, then left the house, taking Scat with them. The boy turned at the door to cast a long glance at his sister.
Rosemary waved him on. “She’s fine, Scat. We’re going to bake cookies this morning.” Her arm draped in a protective gesture across the small girl’s shoulders, and Scat nodded in agreement.
Tanner pushed his cup to the edge of the table, then watched as Mama Pearl brought the coffeepot from the stove.
“Sure haven’t noticed the sunshine today, have you, Tanner?” she asked, pouring his cup to the brim.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, scooting his cup across the table, ignoring the wave that slopped over one side, then the other.
“Looks like you’re sittin’ under a thundercloud,” the older woman told him.
“There’s no clouds inside the house,” Anna announced. “You’re just funnin’ him, ain’t you, Mama Pearl?” She grinned at Tanner, and he was hard put to ignore her words.
“I guess it depends on how you look at it,” he said after a moment, lifting his cup to sip the dark brew. It tasted bitter, and he deposited the cup with a thud on the oilcloth. His chair scraped the floor as he pushed back, and with a fluid motion, he took his hat from the hook and headed for the door.
“Tanner?” Rosemary’s tone was hesitant, and he closed his eyes against her appeal.
“Yeah?” His back to her, he waited before the screen door.
The Bachelor Tax Page 18
