Bay gasped. “And if I won’t?”
“I won’t be father to another man’s bastard.”
“Then I won’t marry you.”
“You have no choice.”
“That’s ridiculous. Of course I do.”
“Either you marry me, or your family will find themselves without a roof over their heads. Do I make myself clear?”
Bay had been willing to sacrifice herself on the altar of filial duty, but she could never agree to sacrifice her child. “I will never marry you. Never!”
“I don’t make idle threats, Bay.”
Jonas took a step toward her, and then another. Bay backed away from the dangerous intent in his eyes until she came up against a cypress tree. He kept coming until his body was pressed to hers from breast to thigh. Bay put her palms against his chest to keep him away, but he was too strong for her to have much success. One of his hands knocked off her bonnet and twisted in her hair while the other grabbed her chin and painfully jerked it up so she was staring into pitiless brown eyes.
“Oh you’ll marry me, all right. You won’t let your father lose Three Oaks. But there’s no reason now for me to wait for our wedding night to take what I want from you.”
He ground his mouth against her lips, drawing blood. The hand that had held her chin dropped to her breast, pinching, kneading painfully. He thrust his hips against her and, despite his fury, she discovered he was fully aroused.
Bay fought him, but the more she struggled, the more brutal he became. The hand tangled in her hair yanked her away from the tree trunk and pulled her head down. The pain forced her to her knees. He came down with her, knocking her onto her back, using his weight to hold her down as he pulled her skirt up around her waist.
“Don’t do this. Please, Jonas!”
The ugly smile on Jonas’s face frightened Bay. She didn’t know this man at all. How could she have so misjudged him? They were too isolated for her to hope anyone would come to her rescue. If she didn’t want to be raped, she was going to have to save herself. She let her hands fall to his chest.
“That’s the way,” he moaned. “Do for me like you did for your lover.”
“All right, Jonas. What would you like me to do?” she asked. “A kiss. How about a kiss?” She raised her lips to his. When Jonas moaned she pushed lightly against his shoulder. “Turn on your side,” she whispered in his ear. “I know a way . . .” she began in a voice promising pleasure.
The instant Jonas turned on his side, Bay slammed her knee into his engorged manhood with all her strength.
Jonas let out a howl that made the horses lunge and startled a family of sparrows out of the tree above them. He curled himself into a ball.
“You’ll pay for this when you’re my wife,” he gasped.
“I’ll never be your wife!”
“We’ll see about that.”
Bay climbed into the carriage and whipped Jonas’s matched pair into a fast trot.
“Wait! Come back here. Bayleeeeiigh!”
Bay ignored Jonas, her thoughts already directed toward her confrontation with Rip. She couldn’t marry Jonas, and if that meant her father would have to lose Three Oaks . . . She would have to face his disappointment and live with it. Bay shuddered as she laid the whip across the broad, sleek backs of Jonas’s matched chestnuts.
Chapter 21
WHEN BAY ARRIVED BACK AT THREE OAKS, SHE immediately sought out her father. She found him in his office, paging through the debt ledger he’d kept hidden from her. When he saw her he quickly closed the book, swiveled his chair around to face her, and rose to his feet, all in one swift movement.
“What happened to you? Are you all right?”
For the first time, Bay became aware of her disheveled appearance. The sleeve of her lilac day dress was torn, and grass and dirt stained her flowered skirt. When she anxiously licked her lips, she discovered a cut at one corner of her mouth. A quick dab with her finger confirmed it was still bleeding. Her hair had a flyaway look that bore witness to the urgency of her escape from Jonas Harper.
“I was with Jonas,” Bay said.
“Did he do this to you?” Rip demanded.
“I . . . we . . . had a disagreement,” Bay said. “I told Jonas I can’t marry him, and he got upset.”
“He did this to you?”
Rip was almost out the door by the time Bay caught him. “Before you go anywhere, listen to what I have to say. I’m not excusing Jonas, but . . . just listen, please.”
Rip crossed his arms over his chest. “Go ahead.”
Bay paced the room nervously as she spoke. “When Long Quiet came back for me, I knew he was the man I should be marrying. But when I tried to break my engagement to Jonas, he told me about the loans you’d made, about the mortgage on Three Oaks. He made it clear that the only way he would extend the note indefinitely was if I married him.”
Rip covered his eyes with a work-roughened hand. “I should have known something was going on when you asked all those questions about how I was going to pay the note. But why would you ever agree to such a marriage?”
“Because if I hadn’t, it would have been my fault if you eventually lost Three Oaks. And I didn’t want you to hate me because I’d disappointed you again.”
“Disappointed me? How could you think . . .” Rip groaned, but the sound never got beyond his broad chest. “So now you’ve broken the engagement, and Jonas isn’t going to extend the note.”
“Not unless I agree to marry him. I was going to do it, but . . . I just can’t.” Two hot tears slid down Bay’s cheeks.
Rip moved toward her but was constrained by old habits from enfolding her in his arms to comfort her. He slid his hands into his pockets, letting his voice do the job for him. “Don’t worry, Bay. I’ll manage. But what changed your mind? I thought you loved Jonas.”
“I did . . . but . . .” Bay knew she couldn’t hide the truth forever. She might as well tell him now. But, oh God, how she hated disappointing him again. “I’m pregnant.”
“Goddammit to hell! I’ll take that son of a bitch Harper apart and feed him to the vultures.”
“Wait!” Bay grabbed at Rip’s arm with both hands. “It’s not his baby.”
Rip whirled on her. “Not his?”
“No.”
She didn’t have to tell him. She saw from the cold mask of fury settling on his face that he realized who must be the father of her child. “It belongs to that half-breed.”
“He’s my husband.”
“Was. And will be again!” Rip said, grabbing her by the hand and hauling her after him. “I’m not having another bastard grandchild, and I’m sure as hell not going to take the chance of another daughter giving up her child to somebody else. Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“To find a preacher. And then to find Walker Coburn. You’re going to get married.”
“But I told Long Quiet . . . he won’t want—”
“I don’t give a damn what he wants.” Rip stopped to take a rifle from the rack above the mantel in the parlor. “He’s going to have to face up to his responsibilities.”
Bay knew that after all the lies she’d told Long Quiet, he wasn’t going to want her back. The fact he was being forced to marry her was going to make things worse. The only thing that kept her from getting frantic was the knowledge that the closest preacher had to be two days away by horseback. By the time Rip got the preacher and returned, he’d be calm enough to realize there were other solutions to the problem.
“Thank goodness Elijah Hopkins bought Framington Farms last year. He’s an ordained Methodist minister. Otherwise I’d have to ride clear to San Antonio and back for a preacher,” Rip muttered. “We’ll gather up Sloan on the way. I’m sure your sister won’t want to miss your wedding.”
Bay pursed her lips, chagrined that there wasn’t going to be time for Rip’s temper to cool. She didn’t speak a word during the entire ride down the Atascosito Road. She was too busy thinking.
&n
bsp; What if Long Quiet wouldn’t agree to marry her? She took one look at Rip’s grim face and the rifle he’d brought along. They were going to be married, all right. But how could she make Long Quiet believe she loved him no matter how rich or poor he was, after all the lies she’d told?
The more she thought about it, the worse she felt. Marrying Long Quiet was not going to end her problems with Jonas Harper. He’d threatened to kill Long Quiet, and then made it clear that he didn’t make idle threats. Should she warn Long Quiet of the danger? And now Jonas would surely foreclose on Three Oaks.
Unless Rip was somehow able to do some fancy talking, she’d just caused her family to lose their home.
If Bay hadn’t been too dazed to listen to the conversation going on around her, she’d have noticed that Rip appeared less concerned about his financial plight than she was. He and Sloan carried on a lively debate with Elijah Hopkins over what he ought to plant in his fallow field. Sloan said corn. Rip said sugarcane. Elijah wanted to leave it fallow for another year.
“Hello the house!” Rip called as they neared Long Quiet’s adobe home.
Bay didn’t expect Long Quiet to be there, but he stepped out onto the porch with a young Mexican woman by his side. Jealousy flared, and Bay felt the flush of humiliation on her cheeks when Long Quiet met her gaze.
“What can I do to help you?” Long Quiet asked.
Rip dismounted, slipping his rifle from its leather scabbard as he did. Bay noticed Long Quiet tense at the sight of the gun. His gaze slipped back to her, questioning, probing.
“I’ve come to see you live up to your responsibility to my daughter.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Bay made it clear the last time I talked to her that she didn’t want a thing to do with me.”
“Bay’s carrying your child,” Rip announced.
“Are you sure the child is mine?” he said, looking directly into Bay’s eyes.
Bay gasped, devastated by the cruelty of his remark.
Rip started toward Long Quiet with a rasped, “Why, you—”
Long Quiet responded by crouching slightly in readiness to meet Rip hand to hand.
“Stop it! Both of you,” Sloan said. “We came here to see Bay married to Walker. It won’t help for the two of you to kill each other.”
“I already asked Bay to marry me. She turned me down,” Long Quiet said. He glanced at the young Mexican woman, then back to Rip. “So I made other plans.”
Bay died inside. He would never forgive her for the things she’d said. “This isn’t going to work,” she mumbled. “I should never have come here.” She reined her horse around, but Sloan stopped her.
“This man is the father of your child. Your baby deserves a name,” she said.
Bay understood what it had taken for Sloan to make such an argument. Sighing heavily, she turned her mount back around. “All right,” she said. “Let’s get this over with.”
“I haven’t agreed to this marriage,” Long Quiet said.
“You can marry my daughter or you can die right now. Take your pick,” Rip said.
“When you put it that way, I don’t seem to have much of a choice, do I?” Long Quiet replied grimly. “Where do you want me to stand?”
Elijah Hopkins stepped down off his horse, thinking things were certainly done a little differently in Texas than they were back in Vermont. Although, as a father, he could certainly appreciate Rip’s sentiment. A man should marry the mother of his children. “How about if the happy couple stands here at the threshold, and the rest of us will stand outside in the sunshine,” he instructed.
“Where would you like Juanita to stand?” Long Quiet asked with a sardonic smile.
“Oh,” Elijah said. “Well, how about on the other side of Rip over there?”
Long Quiet placed the young woman where he’d been told and then stood in the doorway to his adobe home, waiting for his future wife to join him.
Bay’s head was pounding and her throat was swollen closed with bitterness, but she was determined not to give Long Quiet the satisfaction of seeing how hurt she was. She kept her eyes lowered as she walked over to stand next to him.
“Let’s see. I always like the couple to hold hands,” Elijah said.
“Is that necessary, Reverend Hopkins?” Bay asked.
“Well, I always—”
Long Quiet took Bay’s hand in his, eliminating the need for discussion. His hand was warm and firm, and oddly comforting.
“All right, now. Shall we begin?” Elijah asked, surveying those gathered.
“If we don’t get started soon, the sun’ll be down before we’re done,” Rip said.
“Well, all right then. We’ll begin.” Elijah thumbed to the wedding ceremony in his Bible and began to drone the traditional scripture of marriage in a voice that sounded like a nest of hornets.
When Elijah asked whether Walker Coburn took Bayleigh Falkirk Stewart to be his wedded wife, Long Quiet’s hand tightened on Bay’s before he said, “I do.”
When Elijah turned to ask Bay the same question, she tried to answer but found she couldn’t speak.
“Well, young lady, speak up,” Elijah said. “Do you or don’t you?”
“She does,” Rip answered, grim-faced.
“She’ll have to say so herself, Mr. Stewart,” Elijah admonished. “I’m already overlooking the reluctance of the groom, and if the bride isn’t willing either, I’m not sure I should go through with this.”
“I do,” Bay croaked.
“There, well, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Elijah said with a relieved smile. “Then, under the laws of God and the Republic of Texas—you are taking care of the legalities, aren’t you, Mr. Stewart?—”
Rip nodded.
“—and the Republic of Texas,” Elijah repeated, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
There was a long pause before Long Quiet said, “I’d rather not.”
Bay stood with eyes downcast, humiliated by Long Quiet’s rejection.
There was an uncomfortable shuffling of feet before Elijah said, “Oh well, that’s all right too. I guess.”
“That’s enough, Elijah,” Rip said. “We’ve done our business here. Let’s get you home before the sun’s gone.” Rip turned to Long Quiet and said, “Is there someplace I can take the señorita?”
Bay waited to hear Long Quiet announce that Juanita lived in the house with him, but was relieved when he said, “Her brother is one of my vaqueros. He’ll be coming to pick her up soon.”
Sloan drew Bay away from Long Quiet’s side and put her arms around her sister. “You love him,” she whispered in Bay’s ear. “It shouldn’t take you long to convince him that he loves you. It’s a challenge worthy of a Stewart.”
Moved by Sloan’s show of support, Bay choked out, “I’ll do my best.”
“Take care of yourself, Bay,” Sloan said. “And come visit us sometime soon.”
Rip went so far as to take her hand in his. That small touch was enough to tell her how much the events of the day had affected him. “Take care, Bay,” he said. “I’ll expect you to stay in touch with us, and if we can be of help, let us know.”
“I . . . I will. And if you need anything . . .”
Rip smiled. “I’ll manage fine.”
“About the loan—”
Rip cut her off gruffly. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it. Let’s go, Sloan, Elijah.”
As Rip turned, his left leg seemed to crumple under him. Bay grabbed at his elbow to help him, but he recovered quickly and shrugged her away. “Leave be. I’m fine. Just caught my bootheel on something.”
Bay stepped back. Rip had a harder time mounting up than he should have. If something was wrong, though, he hid it well. He smiled at Bay encouragingly and waved farewell before he turned his horse toward Three Oaks.
“Do you want to come inside now?” Long Quiet asked.
Bay looked from Long Quiet to the long-lashed Juanita and said, “I’d li
ke to stay out here for a little while, if that’s all right.”
Bay watched her father ride away until he was no more than a speck on the horizon. She still couldn’t believe she was married to Long Quiet. He’d seemed to understand her need to be alone. Maybe he needed to be alone too . . . although Juanita had gone back inside with him.
Before Bay had a chance to wonder exactly what Long Quiet was doing with the other woman, Juanita’s brother Paco came to get her. And then Bay was alone with her husband.
“Come inside, Bay,” Long Quiet said. “Dinner is ready for us on the table.”
Bay watched while Long Quiet found another bowl and served her some of the chili and beans that were in the pot on the table.
“Sit down,” he said.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Bay said.
Long Quiet’s head snapped around. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I want my son to bear my name, and now that we’re married under Texas law, there’ll be no question of that.”
“Long Quiet, I—”
“In this house Long Quiet doesn’t exist. He was a Comanche warrior. I’m a white man and my name is Walker Coburn. Use it.”
Bay looked at the man standing across from her and realized that he was indeed a stranger, from the civilized trappings he wore to the uncivilized glint in his eye. She yearned for the gentleness of the savage she’d left behind in Comanchería. “Yes . . . well . . .” She forced herself to do as he asked and used the unfamiliar name. “Walker . . . I want to explain how all this happened.”
“We both know why you chose to marry Jonas, and it’s pretty clear why Jonas withdrew his proposal.” Long Quiet stared at Bay’s stomach. Then, as though he couldn’t stop himself, he reached out his hand to touch her belly. Bay remained perfectly still, holding her breath.
He looked up at her and for an instant she saw a spark of the love they’d once shared. It was gone as he quickly removed his hand.
“Sit down and eat,” he ordered. “You look tired.”
From just that look, those few words, Bay took hope. For no matter what Long Quiet’s—no, she corrected herself, Walker’s—feelings at this instant—and she could tell he was both angry and hurt—she had nearly seven months to make him fall back in love with her before the baby was born.
Comanche Woman Page 28
