He caught it before it hit the floor, kicked the door closed, and turned her around to face him before he let go of her.
The padding around her waist dropped to the floor, and she kicked it out of the way. She had already determined the strategy she would employ. From the look in his eyes, she knew he wasn’t going to be reasonable, and since her only defense was to retreat or attack, she chose the latter.
She took a step forward, planted her hands on her hips, and frowned up at him.
“You listen to me, Mr. Clayborne. If you had gone outside, you would have tried to shoot both of them, and one of them might have killed you. And just where would Parker and I be then, I ask you? Boyle has friends, remember? If you’d killed him, they’d come looking for him, and we would have to fight twenty-some men off while trying to protect an infant. I’m a good shot, and I imagine you are too, but I’m also a realist, and there’s no way we could get all of them before we were killed. Am I getting through to you yet?”
She guessed she wasn’t when he spoke. “If he comes here again, you aren’t going outside to talk to him.”
“I knew you’d be stubborn about this.”
“You lied to me, and I want you to promise me you’ll never do it again.”
“Now you’ve done it. You woke the baby. You go get him.”
“Neither one of us is moving until I get your promise. You have any idea how scared I got when I thought Parker was sick? Damn it, Isabel, if you ever lie to me . . .”
“If it meant saving your hide, I’d lie again. We should be celebrating now, not bickering. Didn’t you hear what Boyle said? He’s finally leaving. That’s wonderful news.”
“I’m waiting.”
“Oh, all right. I promise never to lie to you again. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go to my son.”
“I’ll get him.”
All Parker needed was a dry bottom, and as soon as Douglas changed him, the baby went back to sleep.
Douglas couldn’t get Spear off his mind. From the look of him, Douglas knew he was going to be a much more dangerous threat than Boyle could ever be.
Isabel noticed how quiet he was during supper and asked him to tell her what he was thinking about.
“Spear,” he answered. “Boyle doesn’t worry me nearly as much as his new hired hand does.”
“I disagree. Boyle’s cruel and heartless.”
“He’s also a coward.”
“How do you know that?”
“He preys on women, that’s how I know. He isn’t going to be a problem to get rid of now that I know what his biggest flaw is.”
“He has at least a hundred flaws, but you still can’t kill him. You’d spend the rest of your life in prison . . . or hang, God forbid.”
“I won’t kill him. I’ve thought of something worse. I’m kind of looking forward to his day of reckoning too.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Wait and see.”
“Is it legal?”
He shrugged, then said, “I wonder if Boyle has hired any other new men.”
“Do you mean like Spear?”
He nodded. “Since Boyle was nice enough to let us know he has men watching the ranch, I’m going to ride up in the hills every night and listen in on their conversation for a little while.”
“Is that necessary?
“Yes, it’s necessary,” he insisted. “Parker’s going to be eight weeks old soon and Dr. Simpson said he would be strong enough to move.”
“He also said ten weeks would be better.”
“Is Parker putting on any weight?”
“Of course he is.”
Douglas wasn’t convinced. “Every time I pick him up, I realize how fragile and tiny he is. He doesn’t feel any heavier to me.”
“Do you forget how big you are? No wonder he doesn’t feel heavier to you. He is getting stronger every day, but it’s still too soon to take him out in the cold night air.”
“We might have to chance it,” he argued.
“I won’t put him in jeopardy.”
“And staying here isn’t doing just that?”
“I really don’t want to talk about this now.”
“Too bad,” he snapped. “We’re going to talk about it. You have to listen to reason. My brothers will help protect you and Parker, and it’s best if we leave while Boyle’s away. I’ll make sure he really left town before . . .”
She was vehemently shaking her head. “Parker’s too little to be taken out.”
“If the doctor thinks we should risk it, will you be reasonable then?”
She had to think about it for a long while before she finally agreed. “As long as you don’t change his mind for him. Don’t try to talk him into it, Douglas.”
He agreed with a nod. “Do you have any idea what you want to do when you leave here?”
She still hadn’t made up her mind about the future. She could either move back to Chicago and teach at the orphanage or stay in Sweet Creek and secure a teaching position in town or in nearby Liddyville.
The future didn’t frighten her. It was leaving the past behind that made her ache so. She was a realist and she knew she had to leave the ranch because of the dangerous spot where her late husband had insisted their home be built. Eventually the flood waters would wash the cabin away. Yes, she knew she had to leave, yet the idea of packing up and walking away made her feel like such a failure. The land and the home were the fulfillment of Parker’s dream. He had died protecting it, and, God help her, where was she going to get the strength to leave his dream behind?
Douglas wouldn’t understand the anguish she felt, and she didn’t want to explain it.
“I don’t want to discuss it now.”
“You’re going to have to face the future sooner or later.”
She got up from the table and hurried into the kitchen. “I have time to decide, now that Boyle’s leaving.”
“No, you don’t have time, unless you’ve lost your mind and believe anything that bastard tells you.”
“Do you like cake? I thought I’d bake one and you could have some when you get back from town.”
“For the love of God, you’ve got to face facts, not bake.”
She pushed the curtain back so she could see him. “I want to bake now.” Each word was said in a slow, precise monotone. “I work problems out in my mind when I bake. Do you like cake or not?”
She looked mad enough to shoot him if he told her no. He gave up trying to make her be reasonable. “Sure.”
Douglas left the ranch a few minutes later. He checked on Boyle’s lookouts before he headed into town and didn’t arrive at Simpson’s house until midnight.
The doctor was waiting at the kitchen table with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and his pistol in the other.
“You’re late tonight,” he remarked. “Sit down and I’ll get you some coffee, son. How’s the baby doing?”
Douglas pulled out the chair, straddled it, and told the doctor not to bother with coffee.
“Parker’s doing all right, but Isabel’s recovering from a cold. What should we do if the baby catches it?”
“Keep him warm. . . .”
“We’ve been keeping him warm. Isn’t there anything else we can do? What if he gets a fever?”
“Douglas, it won’t do any good to snap at me. The baby’s too small for medicine. We just have to hope and pray he doesn’t get sick.”
“I want to get them both out of that death trap she calls home. If I’m real careful, couldn’t I . . .”
He stopped trying to plead his case when Simpson shook his head at him.
“It’s a miracle that baby’s surviving, and that’s a fact, coming early the way he did. Do you realize how you’d be tempting fate by taking him out at night? And where are you thinking you’ll take them? Boyle will turn Sweet Creek upside down searching for them, and you don’t dare risk going to Liddyville because you won’t know who Boyle has in his hip pocket. I know we’ve been over t
his before. Boyle’s got friends in Liddyville too, and someone will hear about your arrival. Folks gossip with one another. I’m telling you, it’s too dangerous.”
Douglas could feel a pounding headache coming on. “What a mess,” he muttered.
“Is Isabel anxious to leave?”
He shook his head. “She knows she has to, but she won’t talk about her future yet. She keeps putting it off. It’s damned frustrating.”
“I know it is. I’ve got some more bad news for you,” Simpson said. “Boyle went and hired himself a new man. He goes by the name of Spear, and he’s got a real mean look about him. I nosed around to find out what I could and heard that Boyle met Spear when he was on one of his annual trips back to family in the Dakotas. By the way, Boyle’s leaving tomorrow morning. I heard him telling Jasper Cooper he was putting Spear in charge while he’s gone.” The doctor took a drink of his coffee, and then said, “No one in town suspects Isabel’s gotten help. Time’s on your side because you’ve got at least another month to fatten that baby up and get him thriving before Boyle comes back.”
“You told me the baby could be moved when he was eight weeks old.”
“I also told you ten would be better.”
“If I could bring help in now, couldn’t—”
“Think it through, son. You don’t want to put Isabel and her son in the middle of a war, do you? No, of course you don’t. Look on the bright side,” he suggested. He ignored Douglas’s incredulous look and continued on. “You’ve done fine for over seven weeks now, and I’m sure you can hold out a little longer without any trouble at all. Then you can send for help and get Isabel and her son out of there. I still don’t cotton to the notion of taking that baby out at night, but the more weight he has on him, the better his chances will be. With Boyle away, it should get easier. Do you see? It isn’t all grim, is it?”
“Hell, yes, it is.”
Simpson chuckled. “She’s getting to you, isn’t she, son?”
Douglas shrugged but didn’t say a word.
“I can see it plain as day. Are you thinking about falling in love with our girl?”
“No.” He gave the denial with passion and conviction.
It wasn’t a lie because he wasn’t “thinking” about it. He already was in love with her.
Nine
Douglas’s life was miserable. He had never experienced such acute frustration before, and needless to say, he didn’t like it at all. He was also angry with Isabel most of the time. Fortunately, she didn’t know how he felt, and he was certain she didn’t notice how he stared at her whenever she was in the room. The doctor was right when he’d told Douglas that she was too pretty for her own good.
He tried to stay away from her as much as possible. He vowed to stop trying to get her to acknowledge the physical attraction between them. It was wrong to do so and he knew it. Besides, it was apparent that she wasn’t ready to admit that her marriage had been less than satisfactory or that Parker had had a few glaring inadequacies. If she was determined to elevate the man to sainthood, that was just fine with Douglas. From now on, no matter how ignorant, incompetent, and foolish he personally believed the man had been, he would keep his opinion to himself. What right did he have to criticize the dead anyway? And why did it bother him that she was so devoted to Parker’s memory?
Because she obviously still loved Parker.
Douglas recognized he wasn’t being logical. The issue bothering him was loyalty. He had always liked people who proved they were loyal, especially when it wasn’t easy. They were several notches above everyone else in character. Like his family . . . and Isabel. Yes, Isabel. She continued to be loyal to her dead husband, and the truth was, Douglas didn’t expect less from her. Still, did she have to be so blindly loyal? She had given Parker her faith, her love, and her undying loyalty, and he had failed on all counts.
It wasn’t going to matter to Douglas any longer. Just as soon as the baby put on a little more weight, he would get the two of them out of Sweet Creek, take care of Boyle and his hired gunslingers, and then go back home, where he belonged. Until that day arrived, he planned to be polite but distant with Isabel.
That was easier said than done.
The days were unbearable, for as soon as he fell asleep, his mind was filled with erotic dreams about her. He couldn’t control his thoughts when he was at rest, and he soon got to the point where he dreaded closing his eyes.
She’d made it worse for him by demanding that he stop sleeping on his bedroll and use her bed. She had a valid argument. She was awake during the day, and if he moved little Parker’s bed into the outer room, Douglas could sleep without interruption.
The problem wasn’t the noise. He didn’t want to be surrounded by her light, feminine scent, but he’d go to his death before he told her so. She wouldn’t understand anyway, and because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, he tossed and turned, gritted his teeth, and wondered how much torture a man could take before he snapped.
The baby was the only joy in his life. Parker was slowly putting on weight and seemed to be getting stronger with each passing day. Although it didn’t seem possible, he grew louder as well. Douglas didn’t think infants developed personalities until they were much older, around five or six months, but Isabel’s son proved to be as extraordinary as his sister, Mary Rose, when she’d been a baby.
Parker was thinner than Mary Rose, but he was still able to exert his power over both adults by simply opening his mouth and screaming for service.
Douglas had given his heart to the little tyrant. Admittedly there were times when he was pacing back and forth in the middle of the night with the baby up against his shoulder that he wanted to pack cotton in his ears just to get a moment of blissful silence. Yet there were also times when Parker had his fist wrapped around one of Douglas’s fingers, gripping it tight. Douglas would look down at the baby sleeping so peacefully in his arms and feel the tremendous bond that had formed between them. He had helped bring Parker into the world and, like a father, he longed to watch him grow.
Oh, yes, Parker was a joy to be around. His mother wasn’t. The physical attraction to her kept getting stronger, and though he tried to convince himself that she was untouchable, the pretense didn’t work. After living together so intimately for eight weeks, the tension and frustration had become palpable.
Isabel had a different point of view. She was certain Douglas couldn’t wait to be rid of her. He could barely stomach being in the same room with her, and no matter how she tried to get his attention, he blatantly ignored her. If she accidentally touched his arm, or not so accidentally moved closer to him, he became tense and out of sorts.
His attitude upset her more than she wanted to admit. Heaven help her, she was even having indecent dreams about him, and in every single one of them, she was always the aggressor. She couldn’t understand why she wasn’t dreaming about her late husband. She should be, shouldn’t she? Parker had been her dearest friend. Douglas was a friend too, but he was the complete opposite of her husband, for while Parker had been sweet and gentle but somewhat impractical, Douglas was passionate, sexy, incredibly virile, and practical about everything from childbirth to politics. He was filled with confidence, and for the first time in her life, she felt as though she had someone who could, and would, do his part. Until Douglas had come along, she had carried the burden alone.
She wanted him in a way she had never wanted her husband, and that was painfully difficult for her to admit. Mating with her husband had been a necessary duty to produce a child, which both Isabel and Parker wanted, but neither one of them joined together with any enthusiasm. She had been overjoyed to realize she was pregnant, but she’d also been relieved. After Dr. Simpson confirmed the diagnosis, neither she nor her husband ever again reached for the other during the night.
Isabel ached over the loss of her dear friend, but she didn’t miss what she had never experienced . . . until Douglas came into her life.
She wanted to dis
like him just to stop herself from having such inappropriate daydreams about him, yet she also dreaded their eventual separation.
She wasn’t the only one filled with confusion. She was certain she was confusing God as well. She prayed that Douglas would leave. She prayed that he would stay. Hopefully, God would be able to sort it all out.
Late one afternoon Douglas caught her bathing. She had assumed he was sound asleep, since the bedroom door was closed and she’d been as quiet as a mouse while she filled the metal tub with water she’d heated over the flames in the hearth. She didn’t want to awaken him, so she had eased into the water and washed every inch of her body without making a single splash or once sighing out loud. She had just retied the ribbon holding her hair atop her head, leaned back, and closed her eyes, when she heard the telltale groan of a floorboard.
She opened her eyes just as Douglas walked out of the bedroom.
They both froze. Too stunned to speak, she could only stare up at him in true astonishment. He looked thunderstruck, making it more than apparent he hadn’t expected to find her stripped bare, sitting in a tub of water with her shoulders and toes peeking out at him.
He didn’t have all his clothes on. She noticed right away. His legs were braced apart. He was barefoot and wore only a pair of snug buckskin pants he hadn’t bothered to button. Dark curly hair covered his chest, and when her gaze began to move lower, she forced herself to close her eyes.
She finally found her voice. “You forgot to button your pants, for heaven’s sake.”
She had to be joking. He wasn’t stark naked; she was. He didn’t look at her for more than a second or two, but it was still long enough for him to see golden shoulders, pink toes, and damn near everything in between.
Ah, hell, she had a sprinkle of freckles on her breasts.
He got even with her for her inadvertent torture the only way he could. He turned around, stomped back into the bedroom, and slammed the door behind him.
The noise awakened the baby, infuriating her. She was suddenly so angry with Douglas, there wasn’t room for embarrassment, and if she hadn’t regained her wits in the nick of time, she would have chased after him wrapped in only a thin towel so that she could tell him she was sick and tired of being treated like a leper.
The Clayborne Brides(2-4): One Pink Rose, One White Rose, One Red Rose Page 20
