Give Me Tonight

by Lisa Kleypas

  "But it would be wonderful with the right person," Addie said dreamily, resisting the temptation of looking to see May's reaction as she spoke. "I can't wait to be married. "

  "And just who is it you're plannin' on marryin'?"

  "Oh… no one right now." Addie interjected just the right amount of confusion in her voice. The subject was dropped, but May's eyes remained on her, watching her warily all morning.

  8

  RUSSELL LIKED TO GRUMBLE LOUDLY ON THE EVEnings when he worked in his office. The sounds of his counting and frustrated exclamations penetrated the walls and wafted down the hallway, clearly audible in the parlor where May, Caroline, and Addie did needlework. May and Caroline mended clothes while Addie embroidered the border of a pillowcase.

  They had been sewing a long time, long enough for Addie to have grown sore from sitting. She shifted in her chair and contemplated the scene around her. Cade had finished his homework and gone upstairs for the night, while the rest of the household was already sound asleep. It was quiet in the parlor, too quiet for Addie's peace of mind. She bent her attention to the half-formed flower on the pillowcase in her lap, but her thoughts wandered restlessly. May and Caro's blond heads were bent over their work. It amazed Addie, how remarkably alike they were in their outward serenity.

  She wondered how they could look so tranquil, when they really weren't any more peaceful than she was. Inside they were restless too. Addie had seen and heard May's bitterness as she had talked about the life she could have chosen so long ago, a life very different from this one. And Caroline was more complex than any outsider would guess. Addie shook her head slightly, staring at May and Caro. Why were they so much better at hiding their real feelings than she was?

  At least I dare to say what I really think most of the time. But they almost never do. None of the women around here do. Who had made up the rule that women were never supposed to get angry, that they were always supposed to be tolerant and calm and forbearing? Men had decided that. Men liked their women to be just short of saintly, while they themselves never bothered to control their tempers or choose their words carefully. They could stomp all over other people and be as rude and coarse as they wanted, and then the women had to smooth things over afterward and make everything right again. May and Caroline were perfect examples of nineteenth-century womanhood. Caretakers, peacemakers.

  I won't be like them, Addie thought moodily. I couldn't even if I wanted to. It would mean playing a part all the time. And I'm not that good an actress.

  Caroline, however, played the part to perfection. Addie moved her attention exclusively to her sister. How different Caro's inward and outward selves were. She looked as if she'd never done or said anything improper in her life. Blond, serene, passionless… it seemed Caro had inherited little of her father's lusty nature. She appeared to be perfectly content to have a husband who didn't share her bed. A few weeks ago Peter and Caro had moved into separate bedrooms, using Caro's pregnancy as an excuse. At this very moment Peter was sleeping upstairs, with no expectation of seeing his wife until tomorrow morning at the breakfast table.

  Addie had been astounded by the Warner family's lack of surprise at the situation. They had all taken it for granted that Caroline had no need to be intimate with a man unless it was for the purpose of conceiving children. But Addie knew about Caro's affair with Raif Colton. Caroline was a woman of flesh and blood, not marble, and she had a need to give and receive love.

  Addie felt sorry for Caroline. Was that all her sister intended to have for the rest of her life, a lifeless marriage and a few memories of passion? Addie had the feeling that inside Caro there still burned a love for the hot -tempered cowboy who had been her lover, the father of her firstborn, a man who'd been killed as violently as he had lived. As she sat there sewing placidly, did Caro ever think about him and what they'd shared? Maybe she couldn't let herself.

  I could never make the kind of mistake she did, Addie thought in wonder. I could never give Ben up for someone else, no matter how right or wrong it seemed. I guess I don't have the strength.

  Addie had never been so conscious of the differences between herself and the other two women as she was at this moment. Long ago they had accepted the role that women were supposed to assume. Sacrifice, submit, put your own needs behind everyone else's. Tolerate the things that bring you pain, bend like a reed in the wind. That took a different kind of strength from what Addie had. She had been raised to respect her own needs just as men respected theirs. She wouldn't last long as a martyr. She didn't have the quiet, steely patience it took to suffer uncomplaining day after day.

  The days of her childhood were gone, but they were still a part of her. Living with Leah during those years after the war, she had learned to work and scratch for pennies, had discovered she could carry the weight of many burdens on her shoulders, just as long as she had the freedom to make her own decisions. That freedom of making choices must never be taken away.

  And I'll never go through life without feeling and belonging, never again. I won't spend my days hoping they'll go by quickly, feeling numb about everything.

  She jumped slightly as she felt the sting of her own needle. "Ouch!"

  "Stuck yourself?" May inquired.

  "Yes, Mama. I just can't concentrate on this."

  "Why don't you find a book to read?"

  Addie didn't feel like reading, but she nodded halfheartedly, setting her work aside. She grimaced as she saw she'd left a little spot of blood on the cloth, one that would have to be camouflaged with more embroidery. Then she heard the light, seductive plucking of guitar strings drifting in from outside, and her pulse quickened. Ben was playing his guitar on the steps of the small two-room ranch building he lived in, as was his habit when dinner was finished early. The melody was soft and coaxing.

  "What a pretty song," Caroline commented, and Addie stood up hastily. It was impossible to resist the lure of that music.

  "I'm going for a walk," she muttered, and left the room. They all knew where she was headed.

  May called out after her, her voice low and compressed, "Don't be long, you hear me?"

  Then Caro's voice, softer, cajoling, as she spoke to May. "Mama, you know whatever you say against him will only make her more determined. It might be wiser to say nothing."

  "Good old Caro," Addie whispered, grinning to herself. Why had so many of the friends she had once known complained about their older sisters?

  She went outside and skipped down the steps like a child, suddenly lighthearted. Her heart seemed to expand with gladness as she saw Ben. The moonlight cast silvery-blue highlights in his dark hair and illuminated the long stretch of his legs as he sat in the doorway of the little building. One of his feet was propped on a step, the other resting on the ground, while the guitar was saddled on his bent knee.

  He smiled as he saw her and continued picking out a melody, his eyes never leaving her slender form. Addie hooked her fingers into a handful of material on either side of her skirt and swished it with each step she took, feigning nonchalance.

  Their gazes met as she came nearer, exchanging wordless promises.

  "Do they know you're out here?" Ben asked, nodding toward the house.

  "I told Mama and Caro I was taking a walk."

  "That's all? You didn't mention me?"

  "They knew I was coming out here to see you." Ben grinned. "Then it's a little coy to say you're just taking a walk, isn't it?"

  She pretended to pout, turning to go back where she'd come from, pausing to throw him a glance over her shoulder. "If you don't want my company, just say so."

  "I'd never say that, darlin"." He moved over a few' inches and indicated the space next to him with the neck of the guitar. "Have a seat."

  "It's too narrow. I wouldn't be able to fit in there." His smile was devilish. "Give it a try."

  Addie managed to squeeze next to him and fill the remaining space in the narrow doorway. "Oh, I can't even breathe-"

  "I'm not
complaining." He leaned over and slanted his mouth over hers. Her tongue met his, warmth against warmth, offering and tasting, until Ben's blood stirred with increasing vigor. He made a deeply appreciative sound before pulling his mouth away, mindful of the need to keep up appearances. Clumsily he reset his fingers on the strings and regarded the guitar as if he'd never seen it before.

  "Did I used to know how to play one of these things?"

  She chuckled and then nuzzled deeper into his neck, loving the scent of his skin. "Yes. Play something beautiful for me, Ben."

  He bent his head to the guitar and obliged. The haunting melody she had heard so many nights while alone in her bed seemed to curl around them. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder, her eyes halfclosing with bliss. "That sounds so sad."

  "Does it?" He continued playing, looking down at her thoughtfully. "It reminds me of you a little."

  "I'm not sad."

  "But not quite happy."

  His perception was unnerving, and Addie couldn't deny it. She would be happy if she weren't afraid for Russell, and if there weren't such animosity between Sunrise and the Double Bar, and if her relationship with Ben wouldn't cause May such distress, and if her worries about her own past could be resolved… well, there was a list of such things to be taken care of.

  "No, I'm not completely happy," she admitted. "Are you?"

  "Sometimes."

  She made a disgruntled face. "It's easier for men to be happy than women."

  Ben laughed outright. "I've never heard that before. What makes you think it's easier for us?"

  "You can do anything you want to do. And your needs are so simple. A good meal, an occasional night of drinking with the boys, a woman to share your bed, and you're in ecstasy."

  "Hold on," he said, his eyes gleaming with wicked amusement as he set the guitar down and turned to face her, his hands coming to rest at her hips. They were surrounded by night music, the sound of the crickets and the rustling of the breeze through the hay. "There are a few points you've neglected."

  "Oh? What do you need beyond the things I just mentioned?”

  "A family, for one thing."

  "Big or small?"

  "Big, of course."

  "Of course," she echoed wryly. "You wouldn't say that if you were the woman who had to bear the children."

  "Probably not," he conceded, and smiled. "But speaking as a man, I like the idea of at least half a dozen."

  It was difficult to picture him as a father. He was too well suited to the role of amorous bachelor. "Somehow I can't see you tolerating a house swarming with children, a baby spitting up on your shirt and another tugging at your pants leg."

  "I happen to like children."

  "Even messy ones?"

  "Didn't know there was another kind."

  "How do you know you like them?" she demanded.

  "I have a niece and nephew, and they-"

  "That's only two," she said triumphantly. "Two's a lot dif-ferent than six."

  "What are you getting at?"

  "I'd just like to point out that you have no idea how much time, attention and worry half a dozen children would take."

  "So you don't plan on having six?"

  "Not a chance! Two or three's enough."

  "Fine with me. As long as one of them's a boy."

  "Chauvinist," she grumbled. "You get three chances, and if they're all girls, that's too bad. Having too many children makes a woman old before her time. And besides, I'd be so busy with six I'd never have time for you, and I'd always be too tired to make love, and-"

  "You have a point," he said hastily. "Alright, we'll make it three."

  "Ben, now that we're talking about our future, there's something I've been wondering about-"

  "Later," he said, his breath ruflling the fragile tendrils of hair at the nape of her neck. She jumped as she felt the gentle nip of his teeth.

  "But it's important. It's about our marriage, and-"

  "Addie, I'm not going to sit here and go through a list." His hands wandered upward, passing her cinched-in waist and hovering underneath her breasts. "Not now. This is the first time I've been alone with you since last night."

  A slight ache settled in her breasts, a sensation that demanded the soothing touch of his hands. "I missed you today," he murmured.

  She wriggled back and pushed at him. "It's important to talk about this. There are things we should understand about each other. That's what courting is all about. "

  Ben sighed, letting go of her and bracing his arms on his bent knees. He sent her a sideways glance filled with sarcasm. "What is it you don't understand that can't wait to be explained later?"

  "It's what you don't understand about me."

  Suddenly his green eyes were alert. "Go on."

  "There are things that I need… this can't be the usual kind of marriage. I'm different from… other women around here. "

  "I won't argue with that."

  "I'm worried about how- a marriage between two people like us will work. We're both strong-willed, and we each have our own ideas about things."

  "I agree. We'll have to make a lot of compro- ' mises. "

  "But there are some things I won't-can't-compromise on." She looked up and flushed as she met his eyes. ”I'm sorry I brought this up. I don't really know what I meant to say-"

  "I think you do."

  "Maybe I shouldn't… it's too soon-"

  "What are you planning to ask for? A trip around the world? The biggest ranch in Texas? Shares in the Northern Pacific?"

  Addie couldn't help chuckling. “Oh, stop it."

  He took hold of her wrists and pulled them around his neck until her hands locked in back. "Tell me," he said, kissing her forehead. "I'm running out of guesses."

  "I want you to listen to me in twenty years the same way you do now. As if my opinions matter to you."

  "They do. They always will. Anything else?" His lips traveled to her temple, lingering on the pulse he found there.

  "Yes. I don't want to turn into a belonging of yours, an attachment like an extra arm or leg, someone who's expected to agree with everything you say. I won't be silent during the dinner conversations at our table." Now that she had started to open up to him, it was much easier to continue. "I need to be respected but not sheltered. I want your honesty, always, about everything, and to be given a chance to show I can do more for you than the cooking, the washing, and the sewing. All of that can be done by any woman. I want to have a place in your life no one else can take, and I don't mean a pedestal."

  "I wouldn't try to put you up on one."

  "You wouldn't? You wouldn't want me to change after we're married, and do everything you say, and never argue with you?"

  "Hell, no. Why would I change the things that attract me to you the most?" He stroked the side of her waist and smiled lazily. "Let other men's wives play mindless fools if it pleases them. I'd rather have a woman who has some common sense. And why should I want you to agree with me all the time? It would bore the hell out of me to be with someone who parroted everything I said. Put your mind at ease, darlin', I'm not marrying you in order to change you. "

  She looked at him with amazement. How different he was from the other men she had known. Bernie and his friends had been wild and reckless, the kind you shook your head over in private and wondered if they respected anyone or anything, even themselves. Most of the war veterans she had cared for had been bitter and strangely lost, unable to understand themselves or the world around them. And the men around here were a curious mixture of innocence and chauvinism. Grown-up boys, all of them.

  But Ben was not a boy. He was a man at ease with himself, assured of his place in the world, strong and yet sensitive to others' needs. He wasn't innocent by any means, but he wasn't cynical either, possessing a sly sense of humor and a healthy amount of shrewdness. Addie put her hand on his arm, wishing she could tell him how much she appreciated his openmindedness with her. "Most men back in… I mean nowadays… wouldn'
t want their marriage to be the kind of partnership that I'm suggesting-"

  "I won't hand out orders for you to follow. But on the other hand, don't get uppity about it. I'll be damned if anyone but me wears the pants in the family. Understand?"

  Addie smiled and bit playfully at his shoulder through his shirt. She did understand. He would be manageable. "You always like to have your own way," she accused.

  He bent his head to hers and growled near her ear. "You're getting to know my faults, Miss Adeline."

  "I'm trying," she said, turning her mouth to his and offering him a feather-soft kiss. He took it without hesitation, ending it with a smack. "Where on earth did you get such an attitude about women?" she asked when their lips parted. "I'm surprised at how liberal you are. It's because of someone in your past, isn't it. Did you mother teach you to be so open-minded, or was it some other woman?"

  He hesitated, his gaze almost predatory as he looked for something in her face. Whatever it was, he didn't seem to find it. "Maybe I'll tell you someday." The combination of his careless tone and piercing eyes made her uneasy.

  "You could tell me now if you wanted. You can trust me with anything. Everything."

  "Just like you trust me, hmmn?"

  Addie's smile faded as she heard the light, jeering lash in his voice. "What do you mean? I do trust you. "

  He didn't answer for a second. Then to her relief, he changed with bewildering swiftness, picking up the guitar and strumming in an exaggerated cowboy style that made her laugh. The twangy tune reminded Addie of the western pictures she had seen at the movie house, pictures that had featured slickly handsome cowboys in ten-gallon hats.

  "What are you playing? It sounds familiar."

  "Something we sing on the trail."

  The tune was "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean." As she recognized it, she fixed him with an accusatory look. "I know that, and it isn't a cowboy song at all."

  "Yes it is."

  "It's a song for sailors. I even know the words," she said, and demonstrated a line or two in a tuneless voice that made him wince: "'… bring back, bring back my Bonnie to me, to me-' "