She relaxed her hand and he stroked her fingers, willing her to sleep to reduce his temptation. Why did everything of importance have to hinge on money and respectability? Even horses were worth more when they were of good breeding.
If he had papers on those horses he planned to stud, he could get a lot more, he thought, forcing his thoughts elsewhere. A few of the Circle T mares had come into season; he should be hearing from other ranchers soon.
Beside him, Meg's breathing grew deep and regular. He rested his thoughts and his body and sought sleep.
Meg had never dreaded church in her entire life. This morning she thought up a dozen reasons to stay home, though she never voiced one of them. She'd made such a point of insisting Tye go with her, never considering how much easier it was for him to stay home than to face the silent ridicule of the townspeople, that she couldn't show herself a coward now.
He'd attended at her side, and he'd endured the looks and the cold shoulders just as he always had. She guessed she could hold her head up and face them if he could. After breakfast, she donned her deep red calico dress, pinned a brooch at her throat and took her silk bonnet from its box.
She dressed Eve in a lightweight worsted skirt and a ruffled, pink-checked gingham blouse she'd sewn for her. She dabbed a spot of dirt from her only good white gloves and pulled them on.
"Am I pretty, Tye?" Eve asked in her delightfully guileless manner.
He lifted her onto the wagon seat with the indulgent smile Meg was growing to covet. "You two will be the prettiest ladies at church."
Eve seated herself and proceeded to adjust her skirts importantly. "If my mama was there, she would be the prettiest. Isn't that so, Tye? You said my mama was the prettiest."
Tye glanced sideways at Meg as he helped her up onto the seat. "That's so, Eve."
"Do you take after your mama, Eve?" Meg asked, wondering.
"What's take after, Meg?"
Tye climbed up and urged the horses forward.
"I mean, do you look like her? Was her hair black and shiny like yours?"
"She had red hair. And lots of freckles. She didn't like 'em much, but they didn't cover up too good. I didn't think she needed to cover 'em up, did you, Tye?"
"Nope."
"She was beautiful, wasn't she, Tye? And she smelled good, too. Well, before she got sick, I mean."
Meg pulled the child to her side for a hug.
"But don't feel bad, Meg. Tye told me you was second-pretty to my mama."
Heat rose uncomfortably up Meg's neck and face. Slowly, she turned her gaze to Tye.
He wore an apologetic expression, and his dark eyes seemed to beg her understanding. His mouth opened, but he closed it again without saying anything.
Meg couldn't help the smile that inched the corners of her lips upward. "Well, I guess second to such a beautiful woman is still awfully good," she said teasingly. "At least Tye didn't say I couldn't hold a candle to your mama."
He rolled his eyes.
"What would that mean?" Eve asked.
"Nothing, darling. I'm just teasing Tye."
The child's chatter as they neared Aspen Grove helped to alleviate Meg's nerves. The run-ins with Harley and his mother the night before had bothered her more than she wanted to admit.
They arrived early, and Meg appreciated not having to enter the building after all the others were seated and staring. She wondered if Tye had planned it that way. Near the stairs, he helped them down, then pulled the wagon away.
Meg and Eve entered the church.
Gwynn met them in the tiny foyer. "Meg," she said, and stepped forward to embrace her.
Meg hugged her back, then, taking both her gloved hands, glanced around in surprise. "Where are the others?"
"There's a women's luncheon this afternoon to celebrate Celia Kestler's new baby. Harley had a table to deliver and Mother Telford took over a cake. Forrest and Lilly are with them. I told Harley I had to help prepare Communion. I pray God will forgive that lie. I really hoped to see you before they got back."
"What did Celia have?"
"A boy."
Meg had never felt so left out. She glanced around, wishing the Hedens came to church more often. Annie was the only one who'd greeted her pleasantly in public since she'd married Tye. "How nice."
Tye entered the cool, dim church and stopped at Meg's side. "Mrs. Telford," he said politely.
"Mr. Hatcher." Gwynn blushed, and she and Meg released their joined hands.
"Did you know God gives babies to ladies?" Eve piped up from Meg's side. "My mama told me I didn't need to know where babies come from, but Meg told me."
Gwynn's cheeks flushed even more.
"When God gives Meg a baby, I'll probly get to play with it all the time, just like my very own doll baby."
Meg felt the heat creeping up her own face. She hadn't said anything at all to Eve about the possibility of her having a baby. She hadn't actually considered it. She didn't dare look at Tye.
"Let's go sit down." Tye stepped in to rescue her, took Eve's hand and led her to their pew.
"Is everything all right with you?" Gwynn asked, genuine concern in her eyes.
Meg nodded and took the hand her former sister-in-law extended. "We're doing just fine."
"With all the talk, I guess … well, I didn't know what to think."
"He was working nights at the Pair-A-Dice to earn some extra money," Meg whispered, the truth once again bringing tears to her eyes. "He's a good man, Gwynn. Not at all deserving of the talk and the treatment he gets from these people."
"I was so afraid for you, afraid of what you'd gotten yourself into, risking everything to hang on to that ranch like you did."
"Well, it worked," Meg assured her. "Niles offered him more per acre than Joe paid for the land and he refused to take it."
Gwynn squeezed her hand. "You look different whenever I see you now. More relaxed, I guess. As long as you're happy, I'm glad for you."
Two older women entered the church and stared as they passed.
"Thank you for talking to me," Meg said.
"Take care of yourself." Gwynn released her hand and moved away.
Meg gathered her composure and joined Eve and Tye.
He studied her with a concerned lift of one ebony eyebrow.
Meg gave him a watery smile. Eve's comment about the baby blocked anything else from her thoughts, and she had to look away. Had Tye considered that possibility? He'd told her he wanted children. He hadn't touched her for weeks, however, and if last night's lack of interest was any indication, even God couldn't give her a baby.
Reverend Baker entered then and placed his Bible on the wooden pulpit. Embarrassed over her lustful thoughts, Meg pushed them from her head.
From the back of the church, Fiona Hill hurried forward, her arm in a white sling fastened around her neck. She spoke to the preacher, and he patted her shoulder and said something in return.
The two of them conversed with their heads together for a minute before Reverend Baker raised his eyes and scanned the few early parishioners. When his gaze lit upon Tye, a smile creased his face. He said something to Fiona and hurried toward their pew.
"Tye," he said, shaking the hand offered. "I wonder if you'd be so good as to help us out this morning."
"I—er—I'll do what I can," Tye said.
"I'm afraid Miss Hill has taken a spill and hurt her wrist. She won't be able to play this morning. Will you take her place at the organ and lead the hymns?"
Tye's face recorded absolute shock. His mouth opened and shut twice before he discovered his voice. "I've never played an organ, Reverend. And I only know a few of the songs I've heard sung here the past month."
"Then those are the songs we'll sing. Playing an organ is just like playing the piano. Fiona can show you the footwork."
Tye shot Meg a glance. She merely shrugged. "Do it if you want to, Tye, but you don't have to."
Tye looked back at the preacher and something passed between t
hem, something potent and private. Tye wiped his palms on his thighs and stood.
He towered over Reverend Baker and Fiona as the trio stood conversing, Tye with his head lowered in concentration, Fiona gesturing with her good hand. They stepped to the organ and continued to speak. Finally, Tye nodded; Fiona smiled and took a seat.
Meg realized the church had filled and was buzzing with early morning greetings and speculation over the man now seated at the organ. She glanced around, finding heads straining to see and several stares directed at her.
She smiled and waited expectantly like the rest.
Reverend Baker welcomed them and opened with a prayer. He nodded at Tye, and the strains of "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God" filled the building. Full chords and fluid runs were a sharp contrast to the choppy version of the hymn they usually heard. Even Fiona smiled and heartily sang along.
"Holy, Holy, Holy" came next, followed by "For the Beauty of the Earth" and "Amazing Grace." Reverend Baker nodded at Tye again, and Tye ended the songs. Eve, who'd been sitting on the edge of the pew, swinging her feet in time to the music, stood and clapped wildly. "That was real good playin', Tye!"
From her position in the third pew on the left, Edwina craned her neck to observe. Meg silenced the child by taking her hand and pulling her firmly back to her side.
Tye returned to their seat, and Eve pulled away from Meg to reach for him. He took her tiny hand, and when she scrambled to sit on his lap, he adjusted her skirts and kissed the top of her head.
After the sermon, Tye once again took his position at the organ and played something that sounded suspiciously like "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean" as the congregation filed out the door into the waiting sunshine. Excited voices rose and a smile flashed here and there. The improved service seemed to have left everyone in a pleasant mood.
Waiting calmly at the end of her pew for him to finish and join her, Meg endured more than the usual number of stares. A man and wife she remembered seeing at the Founder's Day dance the night before nodded at her on their way past. "What a lovely service," the woman said to her husband. "Mr. Hatcher's playing adds so much."
Her husband mumbled something in agreement.
Tye ended the piece he was playing and joined Meg and Eve, following them to the door.
"Wonderful job, Tye," the reverend said, pumping his hand. "Thank you for obeying the call to serve the Lord with your talent today. See you next week, son."
Tye accepted the man's gratitude and settled his hat down over his forehead as they exited.
"Where did you pick up that particular talent anyway, Tye?" Meg asked, curious.
"In a saloon," he said with a grin. "Friend of my mother's taught me when I was a kid."
"Taught you to read music, too?"
"Nah. One of the schoolteachers did that. Evenings."
"Which one?"
"Mr. Carmichael."
"Tall and skinny?"
Tye nodded.
"What a generous thing to do." She glanced over. "Or did your mother pay for lessons?"
After lifting Meg and Eve to the wagon seat, he sat and picked up the reins. "Sort of," he replied.
His meaning became clear, and Meg's cheeks blistered. She had asked. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.
"Why? We don't have to pretend, do we, Meg? You and I? I certainly don't hide anything from you."
His life had been public knowledge for as long as she could remember. Rather than hide his upbringing or run from it, Tye faced the truth head-on. She admired him all the more for his direct honesty. "No. We don't have to pretend," she replied. "I do appreciate your truthfulness … in all things."
Funny how Tye had the most to hide, yet he was the most honest with her … and with himself. And she, respectable Meg, hid from the things she didn't want to face. And what she didn't want to face was that Joe's memory was slipping farther and farther into the background, and that Tye had begun to consume all her thoughts, as well as her secret longings and desires.
And she didn't know what to do about it. Maybe her only choice was being honest with him.
A verbal admission was beyond her capability. There were no words to describe her feelings. Nothing coherent even formed in her mind when she recalled their physical exchanges—it was all tactile, all deep-buried emotions and magnetic senses. She'd never taken anything more than a passive role in lovemaking, had never spoken of such immodest things to a soul, had never given the act more than its proper insignificant place in her thoughts.
But it had no proper place where Tye was concerned. And it frightened her. She lay beside him that night, wanting him to touch her, aching for the unmentionable pleasure and mind-drugging release, and chastising herself for those coarse desires.
Honesty. The word haunted her. Tye believed she was ashamed of him. And she'd allowed that rather than face herself and her frightening desires. He hadn't touched her since that day—the day he'd brought her desire for him into the open.
Honesty. She owed him the truth. Meg's heart pounded with the inexpressible anguish of her denial. "Are you asleep?"
He rustled the sheet, turning. "No."
"There's something I have to tell you."
"All right."
"I wasn't honest with you."
His response took a moment. "About what?"
"That day we argued … sort of argued. You said all those things about—about my—wanting you."
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I should have said I was sorry."
"No. No, you were right." Oh, Lord, her skin flushed hot and prickly in her embarrassment. "About that part, I mean, but not about the other part. That's the part I wasn't honest about."
"I'm confused," he said.
"You said that I was ashamed for the Telfords to know—to think that—that we—"
"I shouldn't have said that, Meg. It was crude."
"Wait. I have to finish."
He waited in silence.
"You said I was ashamed that I let you do that."
"Aren't you?"
She tried to form words. "Not for the reasons you think." She hurried to explain. "It's not you, Tye. It's not you. I'm not ashamed of you. It hurts me that you can even say that or think it. We've always been friends, and it never mattered to me what others thought."
"I believed that once," he said into the darkness.
"Well, it's true. It's still true. I was proud of you today, playing the organ for Reverend Baker. I'm proud of you earning the money for my ring. I was proud of you during roundup—you worked hard and long and did a good job for the Circle T. I'm not ashamed of you, Tye." She wasn't ashamed of him.
Her words filtered into Tye's mind and he allowed them to sift through years of contrary belief. She'd said she was proud of him. A knot welled up in his throat. Meg had said she was proud of him. He felt as if he were six years old and his mother had patted him on the head.
She wasn't ashamed of him.
He struggled for composure.
"I'm confused by the way you make me feel, is all," she said, her sweet voice warbling. "I'm ashamed of me. Of my behavior. But I'm not ashamed of you. Never you."
He sorted through that admission. Recognition dawned on him slowly. He'd never slept with anyone other than a whore in his whole life, and he had no comparison for Meg's feelings or behavior. "What is it exactly that you're ashamed of doing if it's not making love with me?"
A frustrated sigh escaped her. "Oh, this is so hard. And so embarrassing."
"Meg, I know you liked what we did. I know you enjoyed it."
"Yes," she said softly.
"Is it that you don't think you should feel good with me because I'm not Joe?"
"Honesty," she whispered.
"What?"
"That was part of it. At first."
That was probably normal. She'd felt disloyal to Joe's memory.
"But … it was more because … because it was never like that with Joe."
Anguish weighed like a rock on his chest. Per
haps her honesty was better forgotten if it pierced his heart this way. No doubt Joe, the renowned saint, behaved in a more gentlemanly manner in bed. Tye hadn't been trained in the finer points of making love to a lady. Don't say any more. Don't kick me while I'm down.
"I'm sorry," was all he could manage.
"I loved him, I truly did."
I know you did. I know you do.
"But…"
He didn't want to hear it.
"When you and I are together, it's more. It's frightening. I think about it afterward. I think about doing it again."
He let those words ease into his mind. Enlightenment dawned. He leaned up on one elbow and stared as though he could see her in the darkness. He almost wept at her endearing self-doubt and naïveté. He reached and found her silky soft cheek in the dark. "I'll be damned."
"Tye!" The bed dipped and Meg heard him pad across the floor. The sound of a flint striking echoed, and a moment later the halo of the lamp revealed his nakedness.
* * *
Chapter Thirteen
« ^ »
She turned her face away.
He moved again and lit the lantern she'd left on her bureau. His shadow flickered across the room as he returned to the bed.
"What are you doing?" she asked, blinking as her eyes adjusted and doing her best to avoid staring at his lean, muscled body.
"I want to see you." He leaned above her and she closed her eyes. He kissed her and she melted into the sensations. With his gentle lips, he coaxed a response. Meg loved it when he kissed her this way. He took his time, lingering over her mouth with slow and deliberate care. He ran his tongue over her lower lip and she met it with her own, wrapping her arm around his neck and falling into a vortex of rushing, inflaming pleasure.
He stopped long enough to unbutton the row of buttons at her neck. "What are you doing?"
"I told you. I want to see you."
Meg fought down stinging embarrassment and allowed him to ease her nightgown up and over her head. Wanting to cover herself, she kept her eyes tightly closed and brought a hand to her face. "Look at me, Meg."
JOE'S WIFE Page 17
