They both heard the crunch of tires from outside and Josephine stood again while Amelia swiped her cheeks. “Sounds like my sister and Deke are back already. I hope they have good news finally about Toby and Angie’s adoption.”
Only it quickly became apparent that it wasn’t Amelia’s aunt and uncle, when her mother looked out the window. “Oh, my.” She turned and eyed Amelia for a moment, then picked up her suitcase that was still sitting near the front door where she’d left it upon arriving. “I’m going to go upstairs and get settled.”
Amelia started to tell her that she was using the room her mother was accustomed to, but broke off when she spotted Quinn crossing in front of the window.
A moment later, he was pounding on the front door. “Open up, Amelia,” he said loudly. “I saw you sitting in there.”
She nervously tucked her hair behind her ears and moved to the door, waiting until her mother was gone before tugging it open.
His hazel eyes were bloodshot and they raked over her face. “Was that your mother I saw?”
She nodded. “She’s a day earlier than I expected,” she said inanely.
He brushed past her, entering the house even though she hadn’t exactly issued an invitation. “Are you all right?”
He was looking at the magazine lying on the coffee table.
Dismay sank through her belly and her shoulders bowed. “You’ve seen it.” She could tell by the lack of shock on his face.
“Jess brought a copy by.”
“I’m sorry,” she said huskily. “If I would have just stayed in London, you would never have been dragged into any of this.”
“And I wouldn’t know you’re having my baby.” His voice was flat. “Regretting the papers you had drawn up already?”
“No!” She lifted her hands. “I don’t know what else to do, Quinn.” She waved at the tabloid. “Thanks to that nastiness, every last bit of privacy we might have had is lost.”
“I don’t give a rip who knows about us,” he said impatiently. “But I also don’t want you working yourself up into a state over it.”
Her lips parted. “You were worried about me?”
His gaze raked over her again. “That’s my baby you’re carrying. You think I want anything endangering that?”
She pressed her lips together, her hopes sinking yet again. Of course his concern would be for the baby. “As you can see, I’m fine.”
“Suppose your mother wants to take you back.”
“Actually, no.” Her voice cooled even more. “I’ve made it more than clear to you that I intend to remain in Horseback Hollow and raise our child here where he—”
“She—”
“—will have both parents in his life.” She stepped closer to him, looking up into his face. She’d seen him just the day before when she’d left him the agreement, but he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. “Why are you so insistent that the baby is a girl?”
He picked up the magazine and flipped it open to the article. “Got enough boys in the family,” he muttered. “Little girl would be a change of pace.”
Her throat tightened. How easy it was to imagine him holding a baby girl. Their child would succeed in wrapping him around a tiny finger.
He would love the baby. He just wouldn’t love her.
She rubbed her damp palms down her thighs again, banishing the image before she started crying like a baby herself. “Did you consult an attorney about the, uh, the agreement?”
He tossed the magazine down again. “I don’t need to consult anyone. And I haven’t signed it.”
“Why not? It gives you everything you wanted!”
His lips twisted. “You’d think.”
Her head felt light in a way that it hadn’t since she’d first arrived in Horseback Hollow. She thought about how many times he’d seemed stuck on the idea that she’d be happier back in London. “Do you want me to go back to London?”
His brows pulled together. “No.”
Her hands lifted, palms upward. “Then what, Quinn?”
“I want to know I can protect you from crap like that!” He gestured at the magazine. “And I know I can’t.”
Her heart squeezed and she had to remind herself that feeling protective wasn’t the same thing as feeling love. “I wanted to protect you, too,” she said huskily. “And I didn’t do a good job of it, either. I confided in Molly—” She broke off and shook her head. “I shouldn’t have trusted anyone but my own family. And you.”
“You know for sure it was her?”
“Who else?” She sat down on the arm of the couch and held her arms tightly around her chest. “You said nobody saw you buy the test kit I used here. I know you didn’t tell anyone. That just leaves Molly. You think you trust someone and they betray—” She broke off. “I don’t want to think about it anymore.” She watched him for a moment. “I thought I’d, um, speak with Christopher about volunteering at the Fortune Foundation office once he gets it up and running here. I could offer music lessons or something.”
“Thought you didn’t like playing in front of people.”
“I don’t like performing. But one-on-one? I told you once I liked working with children.” She wished she wouldn’t have brought it up, because it only made her remember that perfect April night when she’d talked about her life and he’d actually seemed to listen. “I...I have to do something to fill my days.”
“You’ll have a baby to fill your days.” He waited a beat. “Or are you planning to hire some nanny to do that? That’s what people like you do, right?”
“People like you,” she repeated, mimicking his drawl. “I was born into a family that happened to have money,” she said crisply. “It doesn’t make me a different species than you!”
His jaw flexed. “People with your financial advantage,” he refined. “That’s what my dad’s father’s real family did. Hired...nannies.”
She studied the fresh lines creasing his tanned forehead. He’d said his father was illegitimate but hadn’t offered anything else about it. Only had used it as a reason why she ought to marry him. “What do you mean?”
“Baxter Anthony.” He practically spit the name. “My grandfather. He had a wife. He had kids. His real family. The ones who lived in comfort on a big old ranch in Oklahoma. While my grandmother—whom he fired as one of those nannies after knocking her up—and my dad eked out a life in Horseback Hollow. Baxter’s real family had nannies. They had private schools. They had everything that my old man didn’t.”
“I don’t want a nanny,” she said after a moment. “It never even entered my mind. But the baby won’t be here for months yet, and I’m not exactly used to sitting around, whiling away my days waving a lacy fan and eating bonbons.”
“You could use a few bonbons,” he muttered. “You’re still too thin.”
“Gawky, skinny Amelia.” She sighed. “Lucie got all the grace in the family.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She shrugged dismissively. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You’re the most graceful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said in such a flat tone she couldn’t possibly mistake it for a compliment. More like an accusation. “You’re so far out of my league it’s laughable. I still can’t believe you danced with me that night, much less—” He broke off and shoveled his fingers through his hair, leaving the thick brown strands disheveled.
She tucked her tongue between her teeth, trying to make sense of his words. “You’re the one who seemed out of reach to me,” she finally said. Self-assured. Quietly confident. A man who’d held her and made her feel safe and beautiful and wanted.
His brows were pulled down, his eyes unreadable. “Baxter was the only one who wanted to buy the Rocking-U when my old man died.” His lips thinned. “He’d buy it now, too, if
I’d let him. Just so he could finally succeed in wiping away the evidence that anyone with his blood ever existed here.”
“Forget about him! The man sounds hideous. And why would you want to sell the Rocking-U? That ranch is—” She broke off, trying to make sense of the nonsensical. “It’s who you are,” she finally finished and knew she had it right. Ranching wasn’t merely something Quinn did. It was entwined with everything he was. The ranch was an extension of him just as much as he was an extension of it.
“It’s the only way I can bring something equal to the table,” he said through his teeth.
She pushed to her feet. “Let me get this straight,” she said slowly. “You think the only thing you can offer this baby is money?” She laughed, but it sounded more hysterical than anything. “Money doesn’t matter, Quinn! Good Lord, how can you think it would?”
“Because you’ve always had it,” he said roughly.
“If I gave it all away would that make you happy?” Her voice rose. “Would that soothe your...your ego?” She swept out her arms, taking in the room around them. “How can you stand in this home that love so obviously built and talk that way?”
She snatched up the tabloid and threw it at his chest. “You should have sold the story,” she said icily. “At least then you would have been the one to make a fortune on it. You know what? Don’t sign the custody agreement. I’d rather take this baby back to London than have him be raised by a man who can’t recognize what’s right in front of his face!”
Then, because tears were blinding her and her stomach was heaving, she fled upstairs.
Quinn started after her. She’d walked away the other day when she brought him that custody agreement and he wasn’t going to let her walk off again.
He got to the top of the stairs just as she slammed the bathroom door shut and he started to reach for it.
“I would give her a little time,” a calm voice said.
He looked from Amelia’s mother, standing in a bedroom doorway, to the bathroom door. On the other side, he could hear Amelia retching, and his sense of helplessness made him want to punch a wall.
“Come.” Lady Josephine walked toward him and tucked her hand around his arm, drawing him away from the door. “No woman wants to be overheard when they’re in Amelia’s state. Morning sickness is never fun.” She smiled at him with unexpected kindness.
But he also noticed the way she subtly placed herself between him and the door.
“She’s in there because of me.” He wasn’t only talking about her pregnancy. “She’s upset.”
“Yes.” Lady Josephine’s expression didn’t change. Nor did her protective position or the steel behind her light touch on his arm. “It’s been upsetting business. Come.”
He reluctantly went with her back down the stairs and followed her into the parlor. She glanced out the window, then sat on the edge of a side chair, her hands folded in her lap, her long legs angled to one side. It was such an “Amelia position” that he had to look away.
“Mr. Drummond, please sit.”
He exhaled and feeling like a kid called in front of the principal, sat on one end of the couch. “Call me Quinn. Lady Josephine,” he tacked on hurriedly. Was it supposed to be Lady Chesterfield? Lady Fortune Chesterfield? He wished to hell he’d listened more to Jess’s yammering about all that.
A faint smile was playing around the corners of the woman’s lips. “And you may call me Josephine. We are a bit of family after all.”
He could feel heat rising up his neck. “I suppose I should apologize for that. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted my head.”
Her head tilted slightly. “Are you saying you took advantage of my daughter?” Before he could answer, she shifted slightly. “Amelia has a kind heart,” she said. “She’s always hated the attention our family is given back home. As if we’re celebrities of some sort. Unfortunately, this business with Lord Banning got quite out of control and in hindsight, I wish I would have interfered early on. Perhaps I could have saved us all some of this embarrassment. But I’ve actually never witnessed Amelia allowing herself to be taken advantage of. In fact, she can be quite headstrong at times.” Her blue gaze didn’t allow him to look away. “I feel certain she was an equal participant in this situation.”
“Lady—”
“Josephine.”
“Josephine.” He rubbed his hands down his jeans and stood, because just sitting there had his nerves wanting to jump out of his skin. “No disrespect, ma’am, but I’m not going to talk about that.” He wasn’t going to talk about having sex with Amelia to her mother. He wasn’t going to talk about it with anyone.
“I’ve always thought that when two people who belong together are not, it’s one of the saddest things there is.”
He stared. “You think she belongs with me. I’m a small-town rancher, ma’am. I don’t have a pot of gold. I’ve got one failed marriage and pots of cow manure.”
Her lips twitched. “I forget how refreshingly frank you Americans can be.” She rose gracefully. She was taller than Amelia, but no less slender, and Quinn knew when Amelia was her age, she’d be just as beautiful. “I had an unsuccessful marriage as well, Quinn. And then I met Amelia’s father and I had a very, very successful one. I loved Simon with all of my heart and knew that he loved me equally. I want that for Amelia. I want that for all of my children. The past is past. And if you’ll forgive an unintended pun, fortune isn’t in gold. I hope you’ll realize that for both your sakes.”
She patted his arm as she passed him and pulled open the front door. “You don’t have to love Amelia to be a good father to your child together. But if you don’t love Amelia, be decent enough to allow her space to find someone who will.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Come on.” Jess dragged Quinn by the arm, pulling him toward the brightly lit building.
The Hollows Cantina was having its grand opening celebration and everyone in town seemed to have turned out for the festivities.
“Mac reserved a table for us,” Jess continued, “and is waiting, and you are not getting out of coming just because you’re a flaming idiot.”
“Amelia’s going to be there.”
“No kidding, Sherlock.” She dug her fingernails into his forearm the same way she’d done when she was an equally irritating teenager. “Maybe if you weren’t so clueless when it comes to wooing a woman, you’d be with her instead of playing third wheel to me and my husband.”
“I don’t want to be here with you, either,” he reminded. But she’d driven out to the Rocking-U and made it plain she wasn’t leaving unless he came with her.
For the sake of a little peace and sanity, and only because he really didn’t want to upset yet another pregnant woman, he had pulled on the only suit he owned and gone with her.
“I’ll be just as happy to go back home again,” he finished. There were strands of white lights strung around the Cantina’s building, outlining not only the second story’s open-air terrace, but the market umbrellas lining the street in front of it, and country music spewed out from inside. The festive atmosphere was the last thing he was in the mood for.
“Over my dead body,” Jess raised her voice over the music and even though there were a couple dozen people lined up outside the entrance waiting to get in, she pulled him into the throng, waving at the familiar faces they passed. He knew everyone in Horseback Hollow, too, but she knew everyone from Vicker’s Corners who was there as well, which made for slow going. But they finally reached the small table deep inside the first floor of the restaurant where Mac was already seated.
She slipped behind the table to sit next to her husband who shoved out the chair that had obviously been added to what should have been a two-person table for Quinn. He gestured with his half-empty beer mug. “Place is a madhouse,” he said, leaning across the table so he could be he
ard above the noise. “Already put in orders for a beer for you.”
Jess made a face and reached for her glass of fruit juice. “Some men might forgo alcohol in support of his pregnant wife having to abstain.”
Mac grinned at her, obviously unfazed. “Baby, you’re pregnant so often, I’d never have another beer again if I gave it up whenever you’re knocked up.” He bussed her cheek. “I ordered you some hot crab dip,” he added. “You can eat yourself silly on it.”
Jess looked slightly mollified. “At least I know I won’t have to share it with either one of you.” Both Mac and Quinn detested crab. “You wouldn’t know there had ever been any protests in town about this place opening.” She was craning her neck around, openly gawking at the people crowded inside. “This is amazing!” She wriggled a little in her seat, clearly delighted. “I think every person from Horseback Hollow and Vicker’s Corners must be here tonight.”
Quinn was looking around, too, hopefully less noticeably than his sister.
But he hadn’t spotted Amelia.
He knew she hadn’t left town. Jess would’ve reported it.
A waitress wearing a stark white blouse and a black apron tied around her hips stopped next to their table and delivered a steaming crock of crab dip and crackers as well as two freshly frosted mugs filled with beer. “We have a special menu tonight,” she told them as she dealt three one-page menus on the table. “Because of the grand openin’ and all. I’ll give you a chance to look it over and be back if you have any questions.”
Quinn’s only question was where Amelia was.
Not that he knew what he would say to her if he saw her. She was making a habit of walking away from him. The fact that he deserved it wasn’t something he was willing to look at real closely.
And he was still feeling the bruises from her mother’s velvet-over-steel dismissal the day before.
He lifted the beer mug, and angled in his seat so he could see around the restaurant more easily.
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