“Mind your own business,” Matt answered.
“Oh.” Joanna giggled.
Blake shook his head and smiled. Then he stared at the closed door before him and sobered. Jessie obviously hadn’t fled so she could celebrate his arrival. He closed his eyes a moment and prayed. Please, please.
He tapped lightly on the door and called softly. “Jessie?”
He didn’t hear an answer, but then with all the racket from down the hall, that wasn’t surprising. The door knob turned freely in his hand. Suddenly unsure of himself, of the reception he would get, he stepped into the room and closed the door quietly behind him. Would she slap him again, or kiss him?
She stood on the other side of a large bed, her back to him, staring out the window. “Jessie?”
She whirled to face him, one hand on her throat, the other braced on the wall behind her. In her eyes he could have sworn he saw a look of longing, but it changed so fast to fear, he wasn’t sure. That flash of fear cut him to the quick. Then the fear faded, too, to mere caution.
“What do you want?” she whispered.
Blake leaned back against the door and let his exhaustion show. “Humph. What I want is for my bride to run across the room, throw her arms around me, and kiss me senseless. What I expect…” He shrugged.
Her throat worked on a swallow. “What do you expect?”
“I expect,” he said tiredly, “to have you start naming reasons for us to call off this marriage before it gets started. How about you? What do you want, Jess?”
“Don’t call me that,” she cried, her face twisting as if in pain.
Blake frowned. “Why not?”
“Just don’t, that’s all.”
Then the memory came to him of the first time he’d called her Jess. He pulled away from the door one shoulder at a time and walked slowly across the room until he stood on the opposite side of the bed from her.
“What’s the matter, Jess? Does it remind you of something when I call you that?”
She stiffened and blushed. “I just don’t like it, that’s all.”
“You liked it fine the first time I called you that. Remember? Remember that night, Jessie?”
She splayed her hands over her abdomen. “I’m not likely to forget the results of it.”
For the first time Blake thought to wonder how she felt about carrying his child. Tension, apprehension threaded through him. “Do you resent it?”
Her eyes widened. “The baby? Of course not,” she cried. “No matter what has passed between you and me, this baby is innocent.”
At her heated defense of his child, warmth eased his coiled muscles. “Are you…feeling all right?”
Another blush colored her cheeks. “You’re not supposed to ask questions like that.”
“A husband can’t ask his wife how she’s feeling?”
She looked suddenly bewildered and confused. Blake sighed. “You never did answer me when I asked what you want.”
Jessie shook her head and turned to look out the window. “Am I supposed to know the answer to that?”
“Did you really think I wouldn’t come?” Blake asked.
“Part of me did.”
Blake closed his eyes. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Why should you? You said you didn’t want this child to be born a bastard. Well, he won’t be now, will he? You married me. Why should you have to do anything else?”
“Why should I—Good God, Jessie, is that what you think of me? That I would just give you and the baby my name and walk away? That I wouldn’t want you?”
“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not what I thought. Not really. I tried to tell myself it was possible, just to be prepared in case you didn’t come. But I guess I knew you would want to…to claim what you consider yours.”
“Yes, I came to claim what’s mine,” he bit out, angry that she seemed to care so little whether he came or not. He stalked around the bed and turned her to face him. “And you are mine. You have been from the minute we met, and you know it. You’re mine.”
To prove it, he kissed her. It started hard and forceful, a blatant act of possession. But when he felt her quiver in his arms, he started to release her. Then she made that funny little noise in the back of her throat, a sound of hungry passion, and the kiss changed.
No dominance now, only giving and receiving, sharing the hunger, feeding it, satisfying it, building it higher.
Blake tried to deny the other thing he tasted on her lips, but couldn’t. Salt. Tears. She was crying. He edged back and wiped the tears away with his thumbs, but more followed.
Blake paused. Her tears unnerved him, tore at something deep inside him. “Jessie, is something wrong?” Brilliant, Renard.
A half-sob, half-laugh escaped her lips. “Wrong?” she managed, blinking furiously, her gaze lowered toward his chest. “What could p-possibly be wrong?” She sniffed and wiped a hand beneath her nose.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t come? Or were you just hoping I wouldn’t?”
“No!” She raised her face toward him. “Don’t think that. I wanted…”
“You wanted?”
She closed her eyes and swallowed. “If we’re ever going to have any kind of marriage, I won’t start out with lies. The truth is, I don’t know what I wanted.”
It hurt. The pain shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. Afternoon shadows lengthened along the floor. “Well, I guess that was honest enough.”
She turned away again and buried her face in her hands. “I knew I was going to mess this up. I don’t want you to hate me.”
He wanted to touch her, to ease her pain and his. Trouble was, he didn’t know if touching her would help, or make it worse. “Why would I hate you?”
She gave a sharp, harsh laugh. “Why wouldn’t you? You hated me by the time we brought Pace home. I don’t guess I gave you much choice about that, the way I acted. Now this.” She waved a hand in the air, then let it flop to her side.
“This?”
“This…this marriage Daddy forced on you. A wife and family you didn’t want. A…baby coming. Just…everything.”
He did touch her then. He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “The way I remember it, you were the one who didn’t want to get married. Either time,” he added with a soft, wry twist of his lips.
Jessie fought the resurgence of tears. How could she explain to him, when she couldn’t explain to herself? She wanted to be his wife, and she didn’t. She loved him, yet she feared him, feared what he made her feel. She trusted him with her life, but not her heart. What kind of love was that?
The answer came as the tears overflowed again. It was the kind of love that would destroy them both and make him hate her. She didn’t know how to change it, or face it. She couldn’t even face him any longer. She turned away and willed herself, futilely, to stop crying.
Blake was at a loss. She was obviously hurting. He’d never seen her cry before. He’d never learned how to handle a woman’s tears. “God, Jessie, don’t cry. Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”
It was obviously the wrong thing to say. She only cried harder. He couldn’t stand it. He cupped her shoulders and slid his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest.
“I can’t believe this. You’ve been kidnapped and shot at, nearly struck by lightning. You’ve patched up bullet holes without blinking an eye. You sat in that court room and bared your secrets before a room full of stodgy old men just to save my neck and now, now that all the hard stuff’s over, now you cry. Don’t cry, Jessie, please.”
“I’m s-sorry.” Her shoulders shook beneath his hands.
Her turned her again, but this time held her close. “No, don’t be sorry. Just don’t be sad. I’d do anything to keep you from being sad.”
She cried harder, her tears soaking into his dusty shirt.
“Anything but leave,” he added, holding her tight. “Just don’t ask me to leave you, Jessie. That’s one thing I’ll never do
.”
Oh, God, she cried silently. How could he be so sweet and hold her so gently when she hadn’t trusted him? When she’d thrown his love back in his face?
“What are you talking about?”
Not even realizing she was speaking aloud, she let all her uncertainties surface. “And I nearly p-poisoned you with that damn s-salt in your cof-fee. And then you went and got yourself s-shot pro-protecting me. And Da-Daddy came to see you and you didn’t come and you didn’t come and I waited and I hated you for not coming, and th-there you were, in j-jail, and they wanted to h-hang you and you were still trying to p-protect me when you should have h-hated me and I’m s-so s-scared.”
A thousand protests rose to Blake’s lips, but he left them unvoiced and let her get it all out. He sank down to the edge of the bed and cradled her in his lap, and still she cried. Every sob tore a new hole in his heart. She kept repeating how scared she was.
He leaned back until they were both stretched out on the bed, with her in his arms, the weight of their unborn child resting against him. “What scares you so bad, Jessie girl?”
Her only answer was another sob.
Blake held her with her head nestled in the hollow of his shoulder. He held her until shadows filled the room and she finally ran out of tears. He held her as she slipped into sleep.
No sleep for him. He was too busy savoring the feel of her in his arms, even as he worried over her tearful ramblings. All the way from Washington he’d braced himself for her anger. He’d gotten it, briefly, when she slapped him earlier. But even that had come only after the searing heat of her kiss, after her surrender in his arms.
The anger had been short-lived, had turned quickly to tears. He ached to think he’d made her so unhappy, yet when she’d finally started talking, it seemed her worry and unhappiness were for him. Did she love him after all? Maybe just a little? If so, would it be enough for them to build a life on?
He wanted this woman. Wanted more of what they’d shared that long dark night in San Antonio. The night before he’d taken her trust and ground it into the dirt.
A baby, he thought in wonder. His baby, and it grew in her.
As if his thoughts brought it on, he felt a tiny movement against his side. He glanced down. Blue calico stretched tightly across Jessie’s girth. As he watched, the fabric moved, and he felt it again.
The movement of his child in her womb brought it home as nothing else had. He was going to be a father. Jessie was going to have his baby.
Blake’s throat tightened painfully. His eyes stung. Unconsciously, he reached out with a hand that wasn’t quite steady. Just before he touched the spot on Jessie that had moved, he realized what he was doing and jerked his hand away.
“It’s all right,” Jessie whispered, startling him. He’d thought she was still asleep. She took his hand in hers and brought it to her belly. “Feel.”
Only when his hand rested against her did Jessie realize how badly she’d been wanting to share this with him. How long she’d wanted to.
Beneath his hand Blake felt the faintest flutter. A feeling of awe filled him, and reverence. Emotions he’d never known existed swelled in his chest until all he could do was whisper Jessie’s name. He buried his face against her sweet smelling hair. “Oh, God, Jessie.”
“I know,” she answered softly. “I feel the same way every time I feel him move.”
Blake smiled against her hair. “Him?”
He felt her cheek flex against his shoulder in an answering smile. “That’s what Pace says.”
“Pace knows about babies?”
“Pace just knows…things.”
“Things?”
But Jessie had just realized how dark it was getting. “They’ll be expecting us for dinner.” She rolled away from him and pushed herself—with a great deal of effort—off the bed.
Blake felt…abandoned. Suddenly lonelier than he’d ever felt in his life. He rose and stood across the width of the bed from her. “We need to talk, Jessie.”
She lowered her gaze and smoothed her hair back with both hands. “I know.” Then she gave him a wry smile. “But there’s one thing you have to learn about expectant mothers.”
“What’s that?”
“When they get hungry, don’t stand in their way. Unless you don’t mind getting knocked down.”
His laugh came easily and felt good. “Well, then, let’s get you to the table. But Jessie, I want you to know that I’ll take care of you. I’m not as rich as your father, but I’ve got money, and I’ve got Tres Colinas. But if you want to stay here until the baby comes, I’ll—”
“No.” Jessie didn’t know where the answer came from, but she had no wish to call it back. Whatever it was that was eating away at her wouldn’t be cured here. She wanted her own home, her own family. And she wanted to understand her own heart. “No. I want to go to your ranch with you. The sooner, the better.”
Blake let out a sigh of relief. Then he smiled. “Our ranch.”
Jessie swallowed.
Chapter Twenty
Despite the lively, boisterous atmosphere of celebration and welcome at dinner, Blake felt the tension between him and Jessie escalate. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, and only spoke when necessary. When she reached for her glass or fork, her hands trembled and jerked.
Over dessert Travis tapped his fork against the side of his wine glass and called for quiet. Then he laid down his fork and picked up his drink. “A toast—to the bride and groom.”
“Here, here,” Serena called.
“Congratulations to both of you on your marriage,” Travis offered. “We all wish you the best of everything. May you be as happy together as are Matt and Serena, as are Dani and I. Here’s to both of you and a happy life together.”
Warmth spread through Blake at being welcomed so enthusiastically. Jessie blushed.
“Here, here.” Serena raised her glass high.
“To Jessie and Blake,” Matt offered.
The clink of fine crystal rang out.
“We love you,” Daniella said.
When Blake tapped his wine glass against Jessie’s, she met his gaze—involuntarily, he thought, but she didn’t look away. They each sipped. Voices around the table seemed to dim. The world shrank to the two of them. In her eyes Blake read uncertainty, and more than a little panic. It hurt that marriage to him distressed her so much.
Without thinking, he stroked the back of one finger across her cheek. “To my beautiful bride.” He tapped his glass lightly against hers. “To you, Jess.” He brought his glass slowly to his lips, willing her to do the same.
Despite the brilliant flush creeping up her cheeks, she did.
Serena leaned over to Matt and said loud enough for everyone to hear, “And here’s to those new ropes we strung beneath the mattress on their new bed. I sure hope those ropes don’t squeak, or the kids will be awake all night.”
Blake choked on his mouthful of wine. Although he would have sworn it was impossible, Jessie’s face turned even redder than before, while Travis sputtered and Daniella chuckled.
Blake lowered his glass to the white lace tablecloth. What he knew about expectant mothers wouldn’t burden a gnat. Serena’s joke answered one question he’d been wondering about: Could a woman as far along in pregnancy as Jessie was make love without harm to her or the child? Apparently she could.
The mere acknowledgement sent heat spiraling to his loins. He wanted her, fiercely, totally, now.
That left another question: Did she want him? Would she come to him openly and willingly as she had on their one night together, or would she shy away, spurn him, turn her back on what they’d had, what they could have together?
Jessie’s knees trembled as Blake followed her down the hall to her bedroom. Our bedroom now, came the uneasy reminder. After dinner the children had been sent to bed and the adults had adjourned to the salon. Jessie had tried to act lively and energetic in hopes of postponing the inevitable bedtime, but she had failed. She wasn’t li
vely and energetic, and everyone had known it just by looking at her. She was exhausted from the emotional upheaval of the day. Apprehensive at being alone again with Blake. For the rest of your life, Jessie. He’s your husband now.
The thought sent a shiver racing down her spine. Fear? Hope? Anticipation?
The soft catch of the latch rang with finality as Blake closed the bedroom door and sealed them together in the privacy of the room. No turning back, no more denying. She was his wife now.
“They’re really something, aren’t they?”
Blake’s deep voice, coming softly in the room lit only by one low burning lantern, made her flinch. “Who?”
“Your family. I didn’t expect an open-armed welcome.”
Jessie stood with her back to him and twisted the lace edge on one sleeve. “They’re your family now, too.”
“No,” he said softly. His hands cupped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “They’re your family. You are my family.” He spread his fingers across her stomach. “You and this baby and the babies to follow.”
She leaned toward him as if drawn by the sheer power in his eyes. All her life she’d wanted her own home, her own family. She’d wanted a man to love her the way her father loved her mother. Wanted to feel the same about him. How could she have known it would be so frightening, so consuming?
Was this what her mother had felt when her marriage was new? This terrible yearning to touch and be touched, hold and be held, kiss and be kissed? This craving for the sight of a smile, the sound of that one voice? Had Serena trembled at Matt’s nearness? Had she felt as if she were losing herself to the powerful needs of her own heart and body?
Dear God, how did they stand it? How had they lived through such tumult and still come out whole and independent?
Blake’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “Why do you look at me like that?” he cried.
Startled, Jessie jerked away. “Like what?”
“Like any minute you expect me to whip out a knife and carve you to pieces!”
“No!” She reached a hand toward him, and he grasped it. “No. It’s not you, please.”
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