Tears welled up in Claire’s eyes as she eased out of the room with the others, leaving the new parents to enjoy a moment of privacy.
When her time came, there would be no husband to pace the corridor. No husband to kneel by the bedside, or to caress her cheek when the ordeal was over. No husband to reverently touch his newborn child for the first time. No husband to shed a tear for the miracle of a new life they had created between them.
There would only be loneliness and longing.
****
Claire dozed beneath the canvas canopy in the courtyard. Her craving for solitude had eased in the past month, since Susanna gave birth to her baby. The exuberant joy that filled the household made her realize how withdrawn she had become, and she was making an effort to come downstairs more often, seek company.
“Claire! Wake up, Claire.”
Her eyes fluttered open. Susanna leaned over her, shaking her shoulder with an impatient grip, her face glowing with excitement.
“What is it?” Claire muttered.
“It’s Mr. and Mrs. De Santis.” Susanna’s voice was frantic yet hushed. She motioned for Claire to get up. “They’ve come to visit. Their son is with them.”
Around Claire, the world stood still. Even the tiny birds hopping on ground seemed to cease their chirping, and the sun stalled on its path across the sky.
“Rafael?” Claire whispered.
“They only have one son.” Susanna snatched away a cushion that blocked the way and held out a steadying hand. “Remember, you have never seen him before. He is a stranger to you. Do you think you can convince everyone of that?”
Claire drew herself up, her heavy belly jutting out in front of her. “Do you really think you need to ask?” she said. “Do you think I wish to bring him danger? Or embarrass him in front of his parents, in case he doesn’t want me anymore.”
Susanna took her elbow. “Let’s go.”
Arm in arm, they marched into the parlor. Claire didn’t need to pretend she’d never seen the formally dressed young man with short hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Her gaze brushed past him and landed on the elderly couple who sat side by side on the sofa. Their posture was proud and stiff, hinting at their reluctance to be there at all.
The men rose to their feet, and Susanna introduced the guests. Claire wasn’t listening. Disappointment churned inside her. Rafael was supposed to have returned, but where was he?
Mr. De Santis settled back on the sofa. “We apologize for not having come to thank you earlier,” he said, a little awkward. “At first, we didn’t know what had happened between you and Burt Hartman. And then, when Miguel Pereira told us, we were too ashamed to face you. We threw you out of your home at a short notice, after you had so generously offered to restore our property to us. It was our son who insisted that we must seek your forgiveness for how badly we have behaved. He has just returned home after a long illness.”
Claire listened to his lilting accent and struggled to take in the words. Once again, her gaze travelled past the old couple, but there was nobody else in the room. Slowly, she turned back to the young man. His black eyes captured hers.
Her breath caught in her throat, and her fingers flew up to her neck, where the beaded leather thong lay hidden under the collar of her gown. Something moved inside her, like a small fluttering. Claire cried out. Her legs gave beneath her. The floor tilted under her feet. Just as once before, Rafael rushed up to her and caught her in his arms as she fell.
“The baby,” she said, staring up at him, her eyes full of wonder. “I just felt the baby move.” She buried her face in the crook of his neck and burst into tears.
“I’m sorry,” Susanna said to the old couple. “These are emotional times for a woman.”
“I remember how it was when I was expecting Rafael,” Mrs. De Santis replied. “Everything would send me blubbering, even a sad story in the newspaper.”
Mr. De Santis cleared his throat. “Son, if your mother and I move over to sit in those armchairs, you can put Miss Claire down here on the sofa.”
“I don’t think he wants to put her down.” The old woman sounded pleased. “He looks kind of thunderstruck to me.”
“Why don’t I carry her upstairs to her room?” Rafael said. “Susanna, will you show me the way?”
Claire was swept up the stairs, in the soft darkness, her face pressed against Rafael’s shoulder. The scent of him, familiar yet different, sent a yearning through her. Susanna held the door open for them, and then she closed it with a quiet comment that she would wait outside.
Rafael lowered her on the bed and moved back a step. “I’m sorry I stayed away for so long,” he said, smiling gently down at her. “I had to be sure people wouldn’t recognize me.” He stroked his neatly trimmed beard. “What do you think?”
“Your eyes are the same.” But nothing else is.
He flexed his leg in the elegant charcoal suit. “My limp was the biggest problem. I’ve had surgery, and I wear special shoes to equalize the height. Most people don’t notice it now.”
“Why?” she asked. “Why is it important that no one knows?”
Rafael frowned at her. “I need to go back downstairs. It wouldn’t look proper if I stayed alone with you too long. We must act like strangers.” He glanced at her jutting stomach. “Can you ride?”
“I don’t want to take any chances with the baby.”
He nodded, raked a worried glance over her. “Take the buggy then. Meet me at the barn tomorrow morning, as soon as it gets light.”
“I can’t—”
He was gone before she could finish the sentence.
****
Claire rose at dawn, after a night that allowed little sleep. Today she would find out. Today her future would be settled. Her heart beat in heavy thuds.
Rafael had said nothing to her yesterday about his feelings. He hadn’t told her that he loved her. He had made no comment about her pregnant state, apart from the practical question if it prevented her from riding. And, except for that brief glimmer of recognition, she hadn’t needed to pretend he was a stranger.
She dressed in lavender silk, one of the few gowns she had been able to alter to fit her expanding waistline. Through the window, she could see the sun already climbing in the sky. She started down the stairs with her increasingly awkward gait.
Rafael stood waiting for her at the bottom of the steps.
Claire halted, one hand clutching the banister. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice brittle with alarm. “I thought I was supposed to meet you at the barn.”
“You can’t be seen arriving alone,” Rafael told her. “My mother has gone out there. She has this idea in her head that I’ll be getting married soon. She is going to have the old house rebuilt, so they can live there and I can have the new house by the river for my family.”
Claire stared at him, frowning. “She is out there now, making plans?”
Rafael grinned. “You don’t know my mother. She’s already had hundreds of gallons of water pumped up from the river to revive the withered gardens.”
Claire shook her head, feeling a little lost. Each moment of the polite formality between them increased her confusion and uncertainty.
“We need to talk,” Rafael said. “Where can we be private?”
“I’ve asked for the buggy to be prepared,” Claire replied. “We could drive somewhere. There is nowhere suitable in the house. Too many people around.”
Rafael nodded. He took her elbow and guided her through the hall and across the yard, and then he bundled her up into the waiting buggy, just as any polite gentleman would assist a pregnant woman unsteady on her feet.
Once they set off along the gravel track, the motion of the buggy unsettled Claire’s stomach. “Stop,” she said, clutching Rafael’s arm. “I’m feeling sick.”
Rafael halted the horse. Claire leaned away from him, breathing deeply. She didn’t want to be sick in front of him. They couldn’t be many less attractive sights than a
woman retching out the remains of last night’s dinner.
But he’s seen you in a worse state, she told herself. He’s tended to your hurts and held you naked in his arms. But that was different Rafael, her mind argued—a halfbreed Indian called Rain Cloud. Not this polished young man with short hair and a neat beard that hid half his face.
He was not her Rafael.
And it terrified her to think he might never be.
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Chapter Twenty-Seven
For months, Rafael had worried about Claire, had dreamed about seeing her again. Yesterday, sensing her anxiety, he had avoided intimate gestures that might frighten her. Now, he leaned across on the seat of the buggy and studied her, making no attempt to hide his concern. Her skin appeared marble white, and despite her advanced pregnancy she looked terribly thin, completely unlike how her soft curves used to be.
“Is something wrong?” he asked. “Is there a problem with the baby?”
Claire shook her head, keeping her eyes closed. Her shoulders heaved as she drew deep breaths. “It will pass soon. It’s the motion of the buggy.”
“We shouldn’t have come,” Rafael said. “I’ll take you back.”
“No!” Her eyes flew open and fixed upon his face. “We need to talk. I.…”
“Yes?” he prompted. When Claire didn’t reply, he gently brushed back the stray curls that fluttered around her face. Her skin felt cool against his fingertips. Surely, that had to be a good sign, an indication that there could be nothing seriously wrong with her health.
“We’ll talk,” he promised. “But first I need to know that you’re all right. Are you well? Do you have nightmares?” He tied the reins to the front of the buggy, so he could frame her face between his palms. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there for you afterwards. I had to disappear.”
“I know,” Claire said. “You were seen. Miguel Pereira told me.”
Rafael hesitated. A thousand times, he had thought about that night, had tried to decide how much to tell Claire. He withdrew his hands from her face and lowered them until he could brace them on his knees. Leveling his eyes on the horizon, he spoke in measured tones.
“I had a problem getting out. When I went into your room, everyone was watching the wedding ceremony. Later, when the butler and Matt Duncan had dispersed the crowd and escorted you away, I didn’t dare to wait for everyone to go to bed. There was a chance that someone would come into the room, perhaps to examine the body.”
“The armoire?” Claire said.
“Yes.”
“Did you kill him?”
Only in that instant did Rafael make the decision to tell her the truth. He was more worried about Claire’s guilty conscience than he was about his own safety, and he wanted her to know that she hadn’t committed the mortal sin of murder, at least not alone.
“Yes,” he told her quietly. “I killed him. I understood what you were planning, but I couldn’t be sure that you’d succeed. I wanted to be there, just in case. I’m glad I was. He would have killed you, or raped you again.”
“The sheriff must never find out.” Claire spoke in a low voice. “You mustn’t tell anyone else. Not even Connor or Susanna.”
“Did you know?” Rafael asked. “Did you know I was there?”
“I was fairly certain that I had only fired two shots.” Claire let out a small huff of frustration. “And even now, after months of practice, I can barely hit the side of a barn. It was unlikely that I had shot Hartman cleanly, and even less likely that I had shot him through the temple while he was charging toward me.”
“You caught him between the legs, I’ve been told. Seems fitting, somehow.”
“I don’t understand.” Claire’s brows gathered into a frown. “The sheriff says I fired three shots. What happened exactly?”
“It was so easy.” Rafael shook his head, still struggling to believe how smoothly everything had worked. “I had oiled the lock on the armoire door to make sure it opened without a sound. I pushed the door ajar and fired one shot. I tried to make it simultaneous with yours, so that people would hear it as one, but I was a fraction too late.”
“I thought it was an echo.”
“An experienced gunman would have been able to count three shots. Your first shot missed. I had planned to dig the bullet out of the wall, but I knew my timing had been off, and the sheriff would discover three shots had been fired. So, I left the third bullet in the wall. You saved me by leaving your gun on the bed. I took the spent shell out of mine and put it into yours. You had an empty slot because you had dropped one of the bullets. I searched until I found the bullet on the floor and put it in my gun. It looked like I hadn’t fired at all, and you had fired three shots. I was using Susanna’s gun. I had borrowed it, so that if I had to shoot, I would be using a gun identical to yours.”
“I’d forgotten that something is left behind in the gun when you shoot.”
“Only the bullet flies out. The empty shell stays in the gun. If people could count three shots, then you had to have three empty shells in your gun.” Rafael shook his head. “It was so close. If you had taken your gun with you when you walked out of the room, the sheriff would have known there had been a second shooter.”
Claire contemplated him. “What do we do now?”
Rafael shrugged. “We do nothing. No one can prove you didn’t shoot Hartman, and even if someone suspects a halfbreed by the name of Rain Cloud, he has disappeared. There is nothing to link me to him. I arrived to stay with my parents a few months after they bought the ranch back from you.”
She lowered her lashes, then glanced up at him. “Will you stay?”
“I will stay.” Rafael took her hand and examined the wedding ring on her finger. “Is this mine or Hartman’s?”
“Yours. I refused to accept his. No one has questioned why I wear one.”
Rafael made a bitter sound. “I allowed you to face death, but I worried about some token to declare that you belonged to me.” His grip on her fingers tightened. “I should have stopped you. I’ll never forgive myself for putting you in danger like that.”
“I had to find my destiny. You said so yourself.”
“I had pretended to be an Indian long enough to start thinking like one.” He lifted his free hand and stroked her cheek. She looked so fragile, her eyes a clear blue in the bright sun, her pale skin so translucent he could see the fine tracing of veins beneath.
“Do you truly want me to stay?” he asked her gently. “I’m a murderer. You are a beautiful and wealthy young widow. The only thing I own is the ranch, and that is only because of your generosity. I’m a soldier with a damaged leg.”
“You’re only a murderer because I’m such a lousy shot,” Claire muttered.
Rafael gave a fraught chuckle and bent to brush a kiss on her forehead. He felt Claire flinch away from him. Thinking he’d misunderstood her reaction, he tried to kiss her on the lips, but this time she turned her head, and his mouth met her cheek instead.
The fear that had been hovering on the edges of his mind tightened around him. Claire seemed have withdrawn emotionally out of reach. Had he driven a wedge between them by staying away too long? Did the events of that night put a barrier between them? Did Claire, deep down in her heart, resent him for having left her alone at a time when she needed him the most?
Had he lost her?
The question pounded through his mind.
Dear God, had he lost her?
****
Something inside Claire seemed to have frozen. This smartly dressed young man was nothing like the memories she cherished. She sat beside him in the buggy, her back rigid so she didn’t lean into him, and tried to make sense of her conflicting thoughts. With a gentle touch, Rafael reached for her once more and wrapped his arms around her to pull her close to him. Claire jolted, let out a started cry.
“Did I hurt you?” Rafael asked, easing his hold. “What is it?”
“My breasts. They are swollen and tender
because of the baby.”
“The baby.” He laid his palm on her stomach. “When is it due?”
“Beginning of October.” She avoided looking at him. “You realize, don’t you, that it could be Hartman’s as well as yours? You saw what he did to me.”
“I know.” Rafael stroked her bump in a smooth circle, the way Claire liked to do herself when she was tense. “What does it feel like?” he asked.
“Didn’t you hear me?”
“I heard you. How does it feel? Does it hurt? You said the baby moved yesterday. How did that feel?”
Claire shifted on the padded bench. “We need to talk about it.”
His black eyes were as inscrutable as ever. “What is there to talk about?”
“What if it is Hartman’s?”
“Any child of yours is a child of mine. I don’t care.”
Claire turned to face him, her shoulders rigid. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” He took both her hands in his. “Hartman is dead. He cannot hurt you more than he already has, and I’ll be damned if I let him hurt you indirectly through an innocent child. I hope you haven’t spent the last few months brooding about that.”
Claire lowered her gaze.
“You fool.” Releasing her hands, Rafael caught her chin and tilted up her faces. He spoke firmly. “Whatever this child will look like, there’ll be cause to rejoice. If it is a blond child, you don’t have to make any excuses. If it is a dark child, we know it’s mine, but you’ll have to explain to my parents about your little adventure with a halfbreed Indian.”
“Oh my God!” Claire stared at him. “Do you think they’ll absolutely hate me for being a loose woman?”
“They might be angry at first, thinking you’ve deceived everyone, until they realize the child looks like me. Then they’ll just be confused. It’ll give then something to do in their old age, trying to figure out exactly what happened.”
Circle Star Page 32
