Jane Bonander (16 page)

She nodded, her eyes closed.

“Talk to me. Tell me, Julia.” He moved his finger over the slick, wet skin, nudging the essence of her with his finger, a motion that made her grip the bedding and buck on the bed.

Her sounds of pleasure aroused him. He wanted to be inside her again. “Come on, sweetheart, tell me what you like.”

“I’ve never—” She gasped, bucking on the bed again. Her breathing shuddered and deepened through her sweet mouth, and she rolled her head from side to side. Then she clutched at him, pulling him toward her, then shoving him away, unsure of what she wanted.

Two fingers, then three, delved into her, and he felt her open for him, her hunger at its peak. Then she came, trapping his fingers inside her, bucking wildly, crying out his name.

He grabbed the covers, pulling them over both of them as he entered her. “Hang on, sweetheart,” he ordered. “We’re going for one hell of a ride.”

He wanted to watch her come again, but his own hunger was rampant, and he only heard her cry of completion as it mingled with his own.

Julia slid from McCloud’s embrace, which had slackened in sleep. Finding her nightgown in a rumpled heap on the floor, she put it on, then turned for one last look at her husband. She gazed at his dark beauty, swallowing the sob that threatened to burst from her throat. He’d made love to her both tenderly and fiercely, but she wondered if he could ever feel for her what she felt for him.

She caught her reflection in the mirror over the vanity, and her heart sank like a stone. Though her cheeks had a rosy glow, she was a bland and colorless woman. Bending toward the lamp, she turned it out, then made her way to the door. Above all, she must remember, too, that she’d been the aggressor. If she hadn’t come begging, he wouldn’t have made love to her.

Wolf waited until she’d gone, then rolled onto his back, bracing his neck with his hands. He closed his eyes, searching for some reason not to care for her. From the beginning he’d told himself not to screw up the opportunity for the kind of life others so effortlessly had.

He and Julia had settled into a comfortable existence together. He’d known she was honorable. In the last few days he’d also discovered that her prickly nature covered a warm, caring woman who didn’t shrink from tragedy, but faced it. Worked at his side to try to prevent it. Grieved at loss when it happened. She didn’t faint or swoon. She didn’t pass the blame.

And she’d come to his bed. His initial delight had been tempered by her pragmatic reason for being there; even so, he couldn’t have turned her away.

But she’d been a virgin.

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Emotion tightened his throat, sending an exquisite feeling of possession through him. No, he didn’t want to mess up this new life, this rescue from a life that had led to nowhere. But he also couldn’t let her know how much he was beginning to care. Things were too tenuous. Yes, she’d come to his bed. But only because she thought he wanted an heir.

Everything they were had been forced upon them. He was beginning to feel grateful, but he wasn’t sure that deep down Julia would ever forgive her father for forcing her into a life she had not chosen.

J
ulia was up before dawn. Even so, McCloud had beat her, for she saw the lantern flickering outside, in the makeshift corral where they kept the milk cows and the little calf.

She scrambled some eggs, cutting up leftover ham into them before pouring them into the skillet. The smell of cinnamon and sugar hung in the air as coffee cake baked in the oven.

The back door opened, and she found herself twisting her apron hem, waiting for McCloud to enter. When he stepped into the room, she broke into a cold, heart-hammering sweat. She felt skittish, light-headed, anxious. Her thighs tingled. Had she actually slept with this dangerous, wild-hearted man? Every part of her body told her she had, for she had so much energy, she felt like skipping around the room.

Knowing he could see the longing in her eyes, she turned away.

“Why did you leave my bed last night, Julia?”

She even reacted differently to the sound of his voice this morning. The way he said her name, drawing it out, softening it, like he truly enjoyed saying it.

“I’m used to sleeping in my own bed.”
And staying would have given you the idea that I care, McCloud, and I can’t let you see how much I care.

“I woke up around two o’clock, cold, alone, and damned horny.”

She grimaced at his crude words. So much for dreams of romance. She should have known better, but last night he’d been so perfect. She should have known it was too good to last. Scolding herself, she continued preparing breakfast, embarrassed anger surfacing. “Surely you know how to please yourself, McCloud.”

“Not as good as you could do it,” he volleyed.

Heat flooded her cheeks. What a fool she’d been to even mention it!

“I didn’t hurt you last night, did I?”

Her heart began to thump. “What’s this, McCloud? Actual concern?”

“Well,” he drawled, “you might not come to my bed again, demanding that I sleep with you, if you think it will hurt.”

Mortified, she busied herself with breakfast. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll only be back if I don’t get pregnant.” God, why was there such an ache in her chest?

“Then I can only hope you’ll be back. Again and again.”

She should have been accustomed to his teasing, but she wasn’t. Not after last night. Not after the tenderness he’d shown her and the passion he’d brought out in her. She pulled the coffee cake from the oven, cut it into squares and put it on the table. “I guess a backhanded compliment is better than none.”

Neither spoke as the silence stretched taut between them.

“Tell me about Marymae.”

She felt a gentle tug at her heart. “Why do you care about Marymae?”

He shrugged, appearing only mildly interested. “I’m curious to know if it was the Immaculate Conception.”

She snorted a response. “Of course not. Marymae is Josette’s baby.”

He shook his head, a cynical smile spreading across his face. “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“I don’t know, McCloud, why doesn’t it?” She scooped the eggs into a bowl and placed them on the table beside the coffee cake, then motioned him to help himself.

“Who’s the father?” He filled his plate, then took a bite of eggs.

She turned away again, remembering the rejection she’d suffered at the hands of Frank Barnes, who had successfully played one sister against the other. Remembering how he’d courted her in the afternoons, bringing her bunches of wildflowers, touching her elbow as they walked through the orchards. He’d even backed off, apologizing for being forward when he tried to kiss her. He was a crude man. Uneducated. But she’d forgiven him for that because he seemed to be trying hard to please her.

She thought something might come of their relationship, until that fateful night she made a trip to the barn and discovered Frank between Josette’s thighs, pumping at her like a bull. Julia had been so sick to her stomach that she’d stumbled from the barn and vomited on the grass. His deceit still made her ill, but she felt fortunate, too. Fortunate that she hadn’t allowed him to take advantage of her.

The worst part was that Josette had seen her. Julia would never forget the smug smile on her sister’s lips. Nor would she forget the way Josette’s legs circled Frank’s back when she saw her watching.

“It isn’t important, McCloud.”

“No, I suppose it isn’t.”

She sat across from him, toying with her food as she watched him eat. She took a bite of eggs, wondering what he was thinking, knowing it was only fair to tell him everything. Almost everything. He didn’t need to know about Frank and the humiliation he’d caused her.

“Is everyone in the valley aware of this, or am I the last to know?”

His hostile question surprised her, but it shouldn’t have. No doubt it rankled that Josette had a child by another man. “What concern is that of yours?”

“Because you could have told me you were a virgin,” he accused.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. His anger was so misplaced. Why hadn’t she felt it last night? “You sound sorry.”

He shoved his plate away. Leaning back in the chair, he studied her, his gaze raking her breasts. “Virgins are often more trouble than they’re worth.”

A hollow ache settled around her heart. “Even if the virgin is your wife?”

He took a drink of coffee, still observing her. “Sometimes.”

She was the first to look away.

“Tell me,” he began, “who knows about the baby?”

Why it mattered to him, she couldn’t imagine. “I don’t know who knows and who doesn’t. Papa—” She took a breath and rubbed the back of her neck. She felt a headache coming on. “Papa was rather like an ostrich when it came to Josette. He didn’t want to see her flaws. He pampered her.” She expelled a disparaging laugh. “I did, too, I guess. It was just easier to do things myself than keep after her to do her share.”

“That doesn’t explain how she got pregnant, and how you got saddled with her child.”

“She got pregnant the normal way, McCloud.” She could have bitten her churlish tongue.

“How did you get saddled with the child?”

Julia cut her piece of coffee cake into a number of smaller pieces, then forced herself to eat one of them. “You make it sound like Marymae is a burden to me. She’s not. I love her as much as if she were my own. And anyway, it’s a long story.”

There was silence, tense and dark. “I have nothing but time, Julia.”

The memory of it all came back in a hard, painful rush. “It’s very simple, really. If I hadn’t, she would have died. She would have
died,
because Josette didn’t give a damn.”

Julia smoothed back the sides of her hair, uncertain that she even wanted to continue, yet unable to stop herself. “She didn’t want her, McCloud. She didn’t want anything to do with her. She tried to talk one of the hands into taking the baby and leaving her somewhere far enough away so she couldn’t hear her cry. She wouldn’t even have cared if Marymae had been given to strangers.” Swallowing a sob, Julia felt the anguish as if it had been yesterday.

“She’d bribed one of the hands to—” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “That sweet, beautiful baby. So exquisite. Why would anyone in their right mind want to get rid of her? And how could something so perfect come from two such—”

She stopped, unwilling to put her thoughts into words. She couldn’t stand to think about what Josette had done, and she felt revulsion every time she thought about Frank Barnes. How could she speak of any of it?

“To what?” He appeared tense across from her. “She bribed one of the hands to do what, Julia?”

She took a shaky breath. “Suffice it to say that Josette would have gone to any lengths to avoid motherhood. She was angry when I intervened. I couldn’t have lived with myself—” She stopped, to slow the rush of feelings. “I couldn’t have lived with myself if I hadn’t saved Marymae.” She dabbed at the food left on her plate, surprised she’d eaten as much as she had, considering the hitch in her throat.

“It’s odd,” she said with a wistful sigh. “I never thought much about children. I didn’t think I had any deep need to have one, or raise one for that matter.” She smiled, remembering the warmth that had coated her insides the first time Marymae recognized her. “But the first time she smiled at me, I was smitten.”

She laughed, embarrassed. “It sounds foolish to a man, McCloud, but I’d give my life for her, if need be.”

She pressed her fingers against her mouth, sorry she’d bared her soul. But it had been building up inside her. Although she couldn’t tell McCloud everything, she was sorry she’d allowed her feelings for Josette to show, exposing this angry, selfish side to her nature.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I’m sorry I went on so.”

He studied her, his expression grim. “And I suppose if she came back with another child for you to care for, you’d take on that responsibility, too.”

Something cold crept into Julia’s chest. The inference was clear. It was possible that Josette had been carrying his child when she left. The bitter chance of
Josette showing up and disrupting her tenuous life with McCloud unsettled her stomach. “Is there any reason for me to believe she
will
return with another child, McCloud?”

He stood, pushing his chair back so hard it toppled to the floor. “How in the hell would I know?” He strode to the stove and poured himself more coffee.

How would he know, indeed. His angry reaction was answer enough. She closed her eyes.
Don’t think about it.
She wouldn’t let it bother her. She wanted this man for as long as he was willing to stay, no matter what he felt about her. Petty jealousy would drive him away. As much as it hurt to admit it, where he was concerned, she had not one shred of dignity left.

She massaged her neck, trying to ward off the impending headache. “I’m sorry, McCloud. I didn’t mean to sound peevish. I’m getting a headache, that’s all. It puts me out of sorts.”

He turned from the stove, studying her. “And Amos let everyone believe the baby was yours?”

“Yes.” She rotated her neck, hoping to release the tension in her muscles. “But I’m not so sure people didn’t know the truth, anyway. After all, Josette was … well,” she said with a shrug, “Josette was the pretty one.”

With a violent curse, he crossed to the back door. “Don’t make yourself out to be so damned pitiful, Julia.”

She sat up straight. “Pitiful? I don’t mean to sound pitiful, McCloud, I—”

“Like hell you don’t. How many years have you felt second best? How long did it take you to perfect this ‘poor me’ attitude?”

She stared at him, her mouth agape. “If that’s the way I come across, I apologize. I—”

“And that’s another thing. What have you got to apologize for? For your sister’s loose morals?”

“In a way, yes.”

“Why?” The question sounded like a curse.

“Because if Papa and I hadn’t spoiled her, maybe she wouldn’t have been that way.” How many times had she thought of that? How often had she wondered what things would have been like if she and Josette had shared the work?

His gaze probed her, like he was examining her soul. “Quit apologizing for her, Julia.”

“But she
is
different,” she urged. “Surely
you
can’t deny that she’s pretty. Dear heavens, McCloud, I’m not blind. We may be sisters, but the resemblance ends there. I don’t pretend to be anything but what I am. I’m plain. Josette is pretty. I’m prickly. She was and always will be a flirt. She has dimples when she smiles, and knows how they affect men.”

Julia forced a smile. “See? I have no dimples. I don’t know how to flirt. I’m just me.”

His gaze probed her, and it was filled with such potency, she had to look away. Inside, there was a woman she’d never shown anyone. A woman with feelings and dreams. It was just hard for her to let them show. She couldn’t be like Josette. Even Papa had known it was true. He’d nicknamed her sister his darling Josie. He’d never had one for her.

“It used to make me sad that I couldn’t be more like her, then I’d scold myself and remember that I was the strong one. The dependable one. The capable one.”

She felt a foolish pinch of self-pity and wiped at her eyes with the hem of her apron. “I’m sorry. This has nothing to do with you. When I start getting a headache, I get maudlin. Leave me alone before I embarrass myself further.”

He stood in the doorway, his face emotionless. “I’m going in to Walnut Hill and order some lumber,” he said, his voice flat. Before he left, he turned toward her.

“Who in the hell fed you such a line of bullshit, Julia?” Without waiting for an answer, he went out the back door, slamming it hard.

Pulling in a shaky breath, Julia folded her arms on the table and rested her head on them. Who, indeed? But it wasn’t bullshit, as he’d put it. Not entirely. Oh, in subtle ways Josette had made her feel less feminine, less beautiful, but each time Julia glanced into a mirror, she could see that for herself. Perhaps she’d allowed it because it was easier to deal with than making herself attractive for a man. Maybe she was afraid where it would lead. Maybe she felt safer, convincing herself she was plain and unbeauteous. Maybe she’d been responsible for perpetuating the “bullshit” herself.

How foolish she’d been to go on before McCloud, extolling Josette’s virtues. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized Josette and McCloud were very much alike. Both beautiful … both outrageous flirts … and both experienced in ways she’d never be. Maybe they
did
belong together.

But Josette wasn’t here, Julia reminded herself as she stood and cleared the table, and she intended to make the most of it. She refused to be weak, even though loving McCloud threatened to make her feel that way, especially knowing he couldn’t possibly love her back. And she refused to let thoughts of Josette ruin what she might have. She’d never given Josette that much power when she’d been here. To give it to her now, when she was absent, was absurd.

However, as she washed the breakfast dishes she wondered how long McCloud would stay. She wondered if he was placating her, maybe waiting around for Josette to return. She would look for signs of restlessness, for though the ranch bound them together, she feared nothing was stronger than a man’s need to be free to make his own choices.