Always Dakota (11 page)

“He asked about Axel’s family and when I didn’t answer—”

“You could have explained that we didn’t know each other—that you weren’t in my life at the time.”

“But you were, and he knew that, too.”

This minister had become a threat to everything Merrily held dear. “You should have lied!” she shouted.

“Aren’t we living a big enough lie already?” Bob shouted back. “I told him the truth because it’s the only way we’re ever going to be able to live a normal life. Look at us! Axel isn’t even three and we’re already afraid of what’ll happen if anyone recognizes him. Afraid he might be taken away from us. Afraid someone might turn us in. Constantly looking over our shoulders. That’s no kind of life, Merrily. Not for Axel and not for you and me.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do mean it.” All at once he was on his feet and pacing. His boots made hard, heavy sounds against the floor.

“We’re his parents!” she cried.

“Yes, but burying our heads in the sand is wrong. Wrong for us and wrong for Axel. I love him as much as you do,” Bob said. “I’d never purposely do anything to hurt him, but our fear is going to smother him. I can see it happening.”

Merrily wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. “How can you say you love Axel after what you did?” came her high-pitched cry. She looked at Bob, seeing him with fresh eyes. She’d trusted him with everything, her heart, her son, her very life. He’d betrayed that trust. The immensity of it burned like hot coals inside her.

“I did it because I love Axel and I love you.”

Using both hands, she brushed the hair out of her face. Then, taking in a deep breath, she forced the panic from her heart. “Okay, Pastor Dawson knows. Exactly what’s he going to do about it?”

Bob continued pacing, but his steps grew slower.

“Bob?” she asked, when it was clear he hadn’t heard her. “He’s not going to keep our secret, is he?” That would be too much to hope for.

“He didn’t say he was going to do anything. He offered to help.”

“By turning us in to the authorities, no doubt.” It was what she expected, what she knew to expect.

“He said if we wanted, he’d be willing to contact the authorities on our behalf.”

“Dear God.” It felt as though the world had been jerked upside down.

“He wants us to take a week and think it over.”

“A week?” That meant they had a full seven days to run. In that length of time, they could disappear somewhere in Canada. Bob was good at saving money, better than she was. They could take the cash from their bank account and run.

“Pastor Dawson assured me he wouldn’t say anything to anyone,” Bob explained.

“Thank God,” Merrily whispered. “That gives us time.” Already her mind was racing with where they could go and the story they could make up. They’d need a lie that was convincing; they’d have to create a believable background. It would mean a name change, too, for all three of them.

Bob’s eyes met hers. She saw his pain, right along with the unasked questions. “What do you mean?”

“We have seven days, don’t you see? That’s long enough to find a place to hide out, to—”

“Merrily, we can’t do that. What kind of life would that be? For any of us? Our lives are here in Buffalo Valley.”

“The hell we can’t run. Are you nuts? That’s exactly what we’re going to do! It’s our only option.” Thanks to him. Thanks to what he’d done.

“Merrily—”

“Do you seriously believe I’m going to wait around for the cops? The social workers? You know me better than that. There’s no way in hell I’m going to hand over our son to some stranger. Axel
needs
me. He needs us both.”

Bob paled even more. “We’re going to fight for him, Merrily, with everything we have. He’s our son, and we’re going to make a stand right here, surrounded by our friends.”

For the first time, the pain gripping her heart lessened, but she still resisted. “It’s our only chance. We can make a new life in Canada—or anywhere you want. Running’s our only chance.”

“Don’t you understand that it’s only a matter of time before we’re found? It’s inevitable.”

“We can hide—”

“Until the next time. Until someone else figures out that Axel isn’t ours.”

She slapped at his hand as he reached out to console her. “You broke a trust! You betrayed Axel and me.”

“Are you saying I don’t love you?” Pain flashed from his eyes. “After everything I’ve done, after the months we’ve lived together as husband and wife? Nothing means more to me than you and Axel.”

Merrily was sobbing openly now. “My baby, my baby,” she whimpered.

Bob embraced her and she buried her face in his shirt.

“I don’t want to lose my baby,” she wailed.

“I don’t, either.”

“They’ll take him.”

“Over my dead body. I’m not going to let it happen,” Bob returned adamantly.

Heaving in a shaky breath, she raised her eyes to meet her husband’s. In him she saw resolve and determination. He wasn’t just going to fight to keep Axel; he was determined to win.

W
hen Margaret went after something, she did so in what could only be called a headlong manner, Matt reflected as he arrived at the Triple C the day of their wedding. She sure didn’t let any moss grow under her feet. No sooner had he accepted her proposal than she had them driving into Grand Forks to apply for the marriage license. Shifting schedules, the earliest possible day for the wedding was December seventh. He tried to forget that this was the same day the worst military defeat in U.S. history had occurred.

It didn’t help that on the morning of their wedding day, the weather dipped to record cold temperatures. The Grand Forks newscaster stated that it could be the coldest day of the year. One of her uncles, who lived in South Dakota, had planned to attend the ceremony, but he’d phoned that morning to cancel because of the weather. Her other two uncles sent their love and best wishes; since they’d recently made the long trip for Bernard’s funeral, they weren’t able to come for another visit so soon.

Margaret, never shy, met him at the door, and quickly ushered him out of the piercing wind and into the warm house.

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” she asked, looking worried. The wind wasn’t nearly as penetrating as her eyes. She seemed to gaze straight through him.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” The truth was, he
had
changed his mind. Four or five times in the past few hours, in fact, but each time he’d managed to set aside his guilt and his doubts. He was marrying her for all the wrong reasons—and all the right ones. No woman had believed in him the way Margaret did. None had looked past the polished exterior and seen his heart. And dammit, there were all those beautiful cattle. And the land. It wasn’t like he could ignore what she had to offer.

Now that he was at the Triple C, he had every intention of going through with the ceremony. If he was making a mistake, then he was doing it with open eyes.

Sadie’s disapproval was all too evident and implied that Margaret was the one making the mistake. She didn’t even try to hide her distaste for him. He felt her censure the instant he walked into the room. But no matter what the housekeeper thought, it wasn’t anything Matt hadn’t been saying to himself since the moment he’d agreed to this.

Margaret ignored Sadie, but Matt suspected the two women had done verbal battle over the impending marriage. Clearly Margaret had won the war, but he figured there’d been more than one battle from which she’d walked away wounded. She wanted him and she’d been willing to fight for him; that said a great deal.

“Pastor Dawson is already here,” Margaret announced, leading Matt by the hand into the library. “Jeb and Maddy are on their way. Gage and Lindsay are coming, too.”

“Hassie?” he asked, and swallowed tightly.

Margaret nodded. “And Leta Betts. Joyce Dawson’s here with her husband, as well.”

Matt wore his best clothes, a ten-year-old suit, and made small talk with Pastor Dawson while he waited for their guests. He was tense and tried to hide his nervousness, talking far more than usual. Everyone arrived within the next fifteen minutes. Soon they all gathered in the very room where Bernard Clemens had warned Matt against hurting his daughter. Now he was marrying Margaret and God help him, he sincerely liked her, but he didn’t love her. Not the way she deserved to be loved.

Glancing around uneasily, Matt was certain everyone knew why he was doing this. He felt sure that Margaret’s friends believed the worst of him, that the words
money, cattle, land
echoed in their brains. It was almost as if they all knew about Sheryl and her scheming ideas, although he swore he wanted no part of that.

Margaret loved him. Bernard Clemens had said as much and Margaret had told him so herself. In time, he hoped to love her with the same intensity. In fact, he was counting on that. He didn’t yet, but he would. Dear God, he prayed that would happen.

“Is everyone ready?” Larry Dawson asked. He stood before them, his open Bible in his hands.

Margaret looked at Matt with such adoration, it was all he could do not to turn and bolt from the room. It amazed him that she couldn’t see the truth. He half expected someone to step forward and stop the wedding, claiming he wasn’t a fit husband. But he
hoped
to be, wanted to be.

Margaret’s friends and neighbors were as somber as if they were attending a funeral. No one seemed happy except Margaret, who, oblivious to the tension in the room, beamed with joy.

His bride wore a long white dress and held a small bouquet of pale rosebuds. White…she wore white. He closed his eyes, barely able to concentrate on Pastor Dawson’s words.

Margaret was a virgin. In all his life, Matt had never slept with a virgin. His women were as experienced as he was. He understood there was pain involved when a woman made love for the first time, and the one thing he didn’t want to do was hurt Margaret. Marrying her might appear heartless, but he did care for her. She was giving him so much—her life, her trust—and little as he had, he would willingly offer that up to her.

“We are gathered here this afternoon to share in the…”

Matt blocked out the minister’s words, his thoughts whirling. This was wrong. He knew it even as he repeated his vows, his voice flat and barely audible. Not wrong for him, but for her. Margaret’s loving him was the best luck of his life, but marrying her, pledging himself to her, proved that everything she’d said about him was a lie. A man who was honorable and decent wouldn’t do this.

Matt tried to concentrate on the words, but his mind soon drifted. He remembered how love had changed Jeb McKenna and Gage Sinclair. Jeb had been a surly, bitter man until Maddy came into his life. He recalled how Gage and Lindsay Snyder had been continually at odds. Every time Matt talked to him, Gage had predicted that Lindsay would abandon the town after the first snowfall. Yet, months later, when she really was about to go, he’d driven his tractor across a freshly planted field in an effort to stop her. Yes, love had changed both men. The only thing Matt expected Margaret to change in
his
life was the state of his bank account.

Margaret’s eyes shone as she held Matt’s hand and repeated her vows, her voice loud, clear, distinct.

After they’d exchanged plain gold bands, Pastor Dawson proclaimed them married. His emotions in turmoil, Matt brought his bride into his arms and kissed her lightly, almost as if they were brother and sister. He saw the disappointment in her eyes and feared this was only the first of many.

It didn’t surprise him that none of their guests seemed eager to stay. The ceremony was followed by cake and champagne, and a couple of halfhearted toasts. The weather was a perfect excuse to rush home. They were all polite, cordial, but Matt realized he hadn’t fooled anyone, with the exception of Margaret.

A half hour following the ceremony, they were alone.

“Hello, husband,” Margaret said, happiness radiating from her. She threw her arms around his neck and gazed lovingly up at him.

“Wife,” Matt said. Deception was never his strong suit. He kissed her and felt the muscles of his stomach tighten with dread.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. All I’ve had today is wedding cake.”

It was all he’d eaten, too. He couldn’t force anything into his stomach earlier, and had skipped both breakfast and lunch.

As they headed into the kitchen, Matt saw that his wife had thought of everything. She had dinner ready to serve, along with wine and music. Nor did Matt need to worry about carrying a conversation. Margaret talked animatedly throughout the meal, bouncing from one subject to the next, asking one question after another; he had merely to reply. They chatted about the ranch, about how he’d give the Stockerts notice and move his things into the house, about combining their herds.

The wine helped relax him, but the tension returned as soon as Margaret mentioned bed. Matt had never experienced problems performing sexually, but with Margaret, his doubts were rampant. His biggest fear was that she’d guess his true feelings and hate him. He had other fears, too. The fact that she was a virgin intimidated him. Any pain he caused her would undoubtedly be followed by plenty of angst—and regret. The mere thought of what might happen was enough to drive away any hint of desire.

“Matt,” Margaret whispered, studying him.

He finished the last of his wine and looked up at her.

“I might not be beautiful—”

“It’s not that,” he said, wanting her to know she wasn’t the problem. “You’re an attractive woman. Your eyes are lovely. Your hair…” He let his words drift into silence. His hesitation was due to his own failings, which, at the moment, seemed too many to count.

He toyed with the idea of suggesting they put off the wedding night, but couldn’t come up with a plausible reason. If she didn’t love him so much, Matt thought he could have found a viable excuse, could have invented one. It was out of the question, though, and he firmed his resolve. He would make love to his wife. He was destined to be a disappointment to her in the future, but he was going to give her a wedding night she wouldn’t soon forget.

She steered him into the bedroom, then reached over and turned out the light. Matt drew her into his arms and kissed her fully, expecting—he wasn’t sure what, but certainly not this strong surge of passion. Her mouth was soft and moist and pliant, her eager response innocent and sweet. What had intimidated him earlier excited him now.

“Margaret,” he groaned, shocked at the quick passion she’d created within him. His fingers worked at unfastening the many buttons of her dress. That was a difficult enough task with only the light from a bedside lamp, but nervous as he was, Matt faltered, all thumbs.

“Here,” she breathed and whirled around, flipping her hair out of the way. “I told Maddy this dress would be impossible.”

Matt chuckled and patiently unbuttoned the dress. Driven by desire, he slipped his hands inside the bodice and cupped her breasts. He was pleasantly surprised to find her lush and full. A sigh escaped him, echoed by a soft groan from her.

“Margaret…Margaret.”

“Oh, Matt, this feels so good,” she whispered. “I didn’t know it would be like this.”

He closed his eyes, astonished by the intensity of what he was experiencing.

“You make me feel so beautiful.” She turned to face him, the dim light revealing the shape of her features, the perfection of her skin, the brilliance of her eyes.

“You are,” he whispered, and she was. It stunned him that he’d ever viewed her as plain, because it simply wasn’t so. Her eyes glowing with love, she brought her palms to his cheeks. Rather than trying to understand the curious mix of emotions that swirled inside him, Matt kissed her. Soon they were devoid of clothes. He pressed her down onto the bed, his engorged penis throbbing.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, his voice husky with need.

“That would be impossible.”

“But, Margaret…”

“Love me, Matt, just love me.”

He brought her satisfaction with his hands and his mouth, reveling in her shudders and cries. Then he poised himself above her, his arms and legs trembling at the knowledge of what he was about to do. Apparently unwilling to wait any longer, Margaret slid her arms around his neck. He murmured, “Not yet,” and reached for a condom in his wallet, which he’d tossed onto the bedside table.

As he slipped on the condom, she lifted her head just high enough for their mouths to meet. Urging him with soft sighs, she opened her body to him, giving herself completely. Afraid of causing her pain, Matt kept his movements slow and shallow. Feeling her body suddenly tense, he froze, uncertain how to proceed. It was Margaret who urged him forward, and afterward, it was his sweet, generous wife who comforted him.

Her innocence had been something Matt dreaded, but now he felt honored and more than that, deeply moved.

Usually when he slept with a woman, she clung to him, reluctant to let him go, but with Margaret, he was the one who needed to hold her close. He was determined to be a good husband. He might not have married her for love, but he planned to do his utmost to make their marriage beneficial to them both.

Matt woke at dawn, from years of habit, with Margaret’s warm body tucked against his. His arm was around her waist and he grinned, delighted that beneath the ill-fitting jeans and bulky shirts lay the delectable body of a woman. He’d had a hint of it once, during that first visit to her house, but the reality was so much more impressive.

“Morning,” she said with a yawn and rolled onto her back. “Morning, husband.”

“Good morning, wife,” he said and kissed her cheek. “How about I rustle us up some coffee?”

“That sounds wonderful,” she said, raising herself to a sitting position. “But before you do, I thought we should talk.”

“Talk? Before coffee?” He frowned. Experience had taught him that when a woman sought conversation, she was generally unhappy about
something.
They hadn’t been married twenty-four hours. Had he failed her already? “This can’t wait?”

She took a minute to mull over his question, then shook her head.

He sat upright and tensed. “Okay, shoot.”

“I love you, Matt. I’ve loved you for nearly five years, and I’m fully aware that you don’t love me.”