Dakota Dream (55 page)

"Oh, Jacob," she cried against his neck, her own tears flowing like the Missouri in May. "You're alive. You're
alive!"

"Yes" was the best Jacob could manage as his warrior's armor began to crack and peel. Behind his eyes, something hot pulsated, demanding release, threatening to expose him as a man whose heart now ruled his head. Unable to stem the burning tide, unwilling to allow anyone to witness this ultimate lack of control, Jacob pushed Dominique's bonnet to the back of her head and buried his face in her hair.

They were entwined as one, their bodies fused so tightly it was difficult to tell where one started and the other left off, when Hazel burst into the room.

"Oh," she said with a gasp, stumbling onto the sight.
"Oh, my, Barney.
What's going on here?"

"Come here, sweetheart," he managed, his own tears at high tide.

Guessing at, but not believing the identity of the man holding Dominique, Hazel kept her gaze fastened on the pair as she slowly made her way to her husband. "Is that who I think it is?" she asked in a whisper as Barney put his arm around her shoulders.

"Yep."
He nodded, still too choked up for intelligible speech.

"Oh, but, Barney, this is highly improper, terribly indiscreet. I must insist that you—"

"Hazel," he said, cutting her off, "just be quiet and give 'em a minute."

And because her husband rarely
told
her to do anything, Hazel glanced up at him, biting her lip,
then
looked back to the overt display of affection. Dominique and Jacob were swaying in each other's arms, whispering mindless words against a backdrop of happy sobs.

When Jacob finally felt in control again, became able to patch up the cracks in his armor, however temporary the repair work might be, he slid his hands up either side of Dominique's head and pushed her away from him. "Let me look at you,
wi
witko,
" he whispered for her ears alone.

Swallowing a sob, Dominique wiped at her tears, but they continued to fall as he untied the ribbon at her throat and tossed her bonnet aside.

Struggling once again to chill that burning sensation behind his eyes, Jacob removed the pins from her hair, then drew his fingers through the burnished gold strands. Pointing to her damp cheeks, he grinned and scolded, "Stop that at once. You know I do not like it."

Laughing and crying all at once, Dominique let her tears fall even harder. "Oh, Jacob," she managed just before she collapsed against his chest again. "Oh, how I've missed you."

Glancing over the top of Dominique's head, Jacob saw that Barney's wife had joined him. He gave the couple a warm smile,
then
noticed the suspicious expression in Hazel's eyes, the knowing look of a highly perceptive woman. He released Dominique and urged her to step back.

Her tears more of a light spring rain now, Dominique looked up at Jacob and smiled. "Welcome home, Private. What took you so long?"

Keeping the
Woodhouses
in view, he smiled back. "It is a very long story. Do you really want to hear it all now?''

"I want to know everything, every tiny little detail." Dominique’s vision finally cleared and she got her first good look at the man she loved. "Jacob. What's happened to you? You look as
if ...
as if you've been—"

"Looks like hell, don't he?" Barney supplied.

"Thanks again," Jacob shot toward his friend. He glanced back at Dominique, at the concern in her moist brown eyes, and shrugged. "It is nothing. I fell off my horse."

"Oh, Jacob," she whispered, her eyes again filling with tears. But this time, when she moved back toward the comfort of his arms, he sidestepped her, taking her hand instead.

Aware of the tension and disapproval radiating from across the room, Jacob said, "Mrs. Woodhouse, hello. It's good to see you again."

"Jacob," she
said,
her mouth tight.
"Nice to see you, too.
Why don't we all take a seat and try to sort through this in a more comfortable fashion?"

Dominique glanced at Jacob, took a deep breath,
then
said, "I suppose she's right. Let me hang up my cloak first." As she slowly walked back to the entry, a slow, wicked grin spread across her face. Dominique whipped off her coat and hung it on the rack, exposing her shapeless gray silk and wool
tattersall
frock. Then, hiding her triumphant expression from Barney and Hazel, she turned sideways and draped her hands across her swollen belly.

"Dominique?" Jacob gasped, unable to believe his eyes. "You are with child?"

Still trying to hide her expression from Hazel, Dominique lowered her head in a suitably shameful posture and said, "Yes, I am, Jacob. The baby is due in four months."

"But how can that be?" he bellowed, crossing the room, no longer interested in anyone's opinion but his own. "Dominique," he said, gripping her shoulders. "How can this
be?"

Caught off guard, frightened by what she saw in Jacob's eyes,
hoping
the message he sent was an act, a way to keep the others from knowing his true identity, Dominique was beyond speech.

"Private," Hazel said as she started toward them, "don't be so quick to judge. She has been through a lot."

"Sweetheart," Barney sliced in as he took Hazel by the arm. "Why don't we give Dominique and Jacob a few minutes to themselves? I believe this conversation should be held in private."

"But, Barney, this is highly irregular, terribly improper."

"Darling," he warned, "I think it's time we took our nightly walk around the compound, don't you?"

Alarmed by her husband's aggressive behavior, but warmed by it as well, Hazel looked to Dominique. "Will you be all right, dear?"

"Yes," she said, finding her voice. "Please don't worry about me. Barney's right. I think we need a moment alone."

Jacob's intense gaze never left Dominique as the older couple slipped into their coats and made their departure. When the door closed and they were truly alone, his expression didn't change, didn't soften. Still he stared at her with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

"Jacob," she said softly, her alarm growing. "Why are you looking at me like that? You don't think, I mean, surely you must realize this is your baby."

"Of course I do," he said, slamming his fist into the palm of his hand, as angry with himself as he was at her.

Confused, ready to burst into tears again, she said, "Then why are you yelling at me? Why are you so angry?"

"Because you did not do as I told you. Because you did not seek out the herbs my people know about that would have prevented ...
this."

"But, Jacob," she said, still perplexed, but not as alarmed,
"this,
as you put it, is our baby, the best of you and me. And I did get those herbs after our first night together." She laughed, adding, "But I'm afraid taking them then was a little
like
closing the barn door after the horses got out—don't you think?"

"I see nothing funny here," he said, his expression defensive, desolate somehow.

"What's wrong,
mon
amour
? I don't see why
are you
so angry. Don't you know this baby is the only thing that's kept me going? I thought you had died at the Little Bighorn."

"Oh,
wi
witko,"
he said as he pulled her into his arms, "I am not angry with you. It is my own deadly seed that angers me so."

Dominique pushed away from him. "I don't understand what you're talking about. What is it you're trying to say to me?"

Jacob closed his eyes, thinking back to long ago,
then
pulled her close again. "I am trying to say something that I should have told you before now, but didn't because I thought I could prevent this." He pointed at her belly. "It is the story of Lame Fawn, my Lakota wife."

"
Your
 
wife
?" she said, nearly strangling on the word.

"Many years before you," he whispered, sliding the backs of his fingers across her cheek.

"And so?" she said, her voice the barest of whispers.

"Look," he explained, bringing her hand up in front of her face,
then
pressing his palm against hers. "See how big I am? See how small and frail you are? Lame Fawn also thought to have my child, but when her time came, the baby had grown so large, she could not expel it."

"Oh," Dominique sighed, her heart numb. "Lame Fawn died giving birth?"

Jacob nodded.
"She and the child."

Dominique rested her head against his chest, gauging both his and her own feelings, choosing her words with care. She finally lifted her head,
then
held his hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry for the pain you must have suffered when you lost them, and for the anguish you're obviously feeling even now."

"I have long since ceased to feel their loss. The anguish I feel now is for you. If I should lose you in the same way, lose you for any reason, the pain I'll suffer will never go away. I cannot lose you, Dominique. I will not take the chance."

"But, Jacob," she said with a soft laugh, "you and I don't have any choice now. Look at me."

He glanced at her round belly and shrugged. "There must be some way to relieve you of this burden, something that will not put your life in danger,"

"There is," she said quietly. "It's called childbirth, and it's going to happen in February." Before he could argue, Dominique began running her lips along the hills and valleys of his knuckles, kissing him, soothing him.

Then she nipped at the back of his hand with her teeth. “You're going to have to do a lot more than get me in the family way to lose me, soldier," she said, giving him a reassuring wink as she backed away.

Spreading her arms, she slowly circled, commenting, "Look at me, Jacob. I'm no frail little flower. I'm strong and healthy, and the doctor says my hips are just made for having babies. Why don't you just trust me, Jacob? I know I can do this."

"But, Dom—"

"I mean it," she cut in, gliding back into his arms. "You kept asking me to trust you, to put my faith in you, and I did. I did everything you asked, believed you when you said you'd do all you could to stop that awful war and save my family. Now it's your turn to trust in me."

Her words triggered another memory, and suddenly he couldn't wait to explain. "I want you to know about your uncle and his brothers. I did try to save them."