The Bad Luck Wedding Dress (27 page)

That was more than she could stand. Jenny stood and advanced on him, her hands braced on her hips. “Don’t you dare curse me, McBride. I have done nothing wrong and for you to even think it, much less accuse me, is an insult I’ll not abide.”

He didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. Jenny shivered at the chill that hung between them. She wanted to weep, but her pride wouldn’t permit it. Nor would it allow her to explain. She’d not tell him of the child now and have what should be a special moment ruined.

She swept a hand toward the whiskey decanter he’d left on the table. “You’ve obviously already drunk yourself senseless, but if you feel obliged to continue, I’d appreciate your taking it down to your old haunts where it belongs before our daughters come home. Hell’s Half Acre is a more appropriate venue for fools than Willow Hill.”

Gathering her pride around her like an ermine cape, hoping it would keep her warm, Jenny walked toward the stairs and the privacy of a room in which to cry. Halfway up, she heard a crash as the decanter shattered against the wall, followed shortly by the slam of the front door.

Blinking furiously, she turned right at the head of the stairs, walking past her bedroom to the small, empty room across the hall. This would be the nursery. She opened the door and stepped inside. She gazed around the room, imagining a crib, frilly curtains on the window, and maybe a rocking horse in one corner. A father cooing at the infant in the cradle.

Jenny sniffed. Trace was acting the fool. A first-class top-of-the-line fool.

And that wasn’t like him at all.

Suspicion flickered in her mind and she concentrated as the notion grew. This wasn’t about her at all, was it? This was about something else. Someone else?

Jenny walked to the curtainless window and stared outside at the willows below, their drooping branches swaying in the breeze. Could there be any truth to her suspicions? If Constance had cheated on Trace, that would explain some of his more cryptic comments both before and after their marriage. She hated to think it, however. Trace McBride was a proud man. A wife’s betrayal would hit him hard. It would also go a long way toward explaining his behavior today.

And what would it do to her chances of gaining his love?

Jenny sighed and lifted her hand to touch her stomach. A baby. Maybe a brother for her darling Menaces. Or another daughter. It didn’t matter to her.

Turning away from the window, she returned her attention to the nursery. Another thought occurred and she couldn’t stop a smile.

Somehow, she simply couldn’t envision Monique changing diapers.

THE SUN had long since set by the time Trace climbed the spiral staircase and stood outside his bedroom door, working up the nerve to go inside.

It had been a long afternoon and evening. Self-examination was not one of his favorite pastimes, especially when he sensed he was in the wrong. If Jenny was innocent, then he’d acted like an ass. If she wasn’t innocent, then he’d been a goddamned fool to marry her. He’d rather be an ass than a fool any day, and once he calmed down enough to think about it, he thought himself pretty safe on that score.

Their wedding night—or rather the morning after, in their case—had proved she’d had no lover before their marriage. He knew damn well he’d kept her satisfied in bed since the nuptials, so that wouldn’t be a reason for her to betray him.

Of course, he couldn’t allow himself to forget she was a woman and therefore didn’t need a reason for duplicity. But the way she’d reacted—that outraged offense—reassured him. Jenny was capable of trying to brazen her way past guilt, but he didn’t believe that to be the case this time. More likely, he’d angered her with his accusations, and she’d been too hard-headed to explain. That was more in character for Jenny Fortune McBride.

And besides, she didn’t have a man sniffing about her heels and tempting her to betrayal. Tye McBride was half a country away from here this time. Thank God.

That thought gave him courage to step inside.

She’d waited up for him. Seated by the fire, she had knitting in her lap. Trace focused on that, and the wayward thought occurred that he had never seen her knit. Judging by her other skills, he bet her knitted creations were masterpieces. Maybe she’d knit him a nice warm blanket.

Depending on how mad he’d made her, he might need it for a cover wherever he ended up sleeping.

Shutting the door behind him, Trace said, “Hello.”

“Hello,” she replied, not looking up.

Silence hung between them like a heavy fog. He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be awake.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d come home.”

He sighed heavily. He hated it when she got snippy. “We need to talk.”

Her knitting needles continued to click. “I’m listening.

“Would you look at me?”

Her hands stilled. He watched her breasts lift as she inhaled a deep breath. When she finally lifted her gaze and speared him with a glare, he felt the remaining weight lift from his heart. Jenny wouldn’t still be so hot if she’d done something wrong. He hadn’t been a fool, he’d been an ass. His lips lifted in a rueful grin. “I guess I owe you an apology.”

She lifted her chin, and even though she was sitting and he was standing, she still managed to look down her nose at him. “Yes, you do. And I don’t know that I’d be laughing about it if I were you.”

“Ah, Jenny, I’m not laughing about any of this.” Approaching the fireplace, he lifted the poker from the stand and stirred the dying fire. As it hissed, Trace fixed his gaze on the dancing yellow flames. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry I said the things I said.”

She waited, watching expectantly, and Trace grimaced. The woman was out for blood. “And you were right about me drinking at home. That’s not something the girls should see.”

“It’s not something I should see.” Wrinkling her nose, she added, “Or smell.”

Her sanctimonious sniff didn’t wear well on him. “You’re the one who told me to go down to the Acre.”

Neither did the rolled-eye look. He rubbed his hand across his jaw. “You know, Jenny, all you had to do was give a little. If you’d told me where you were I wouldn’t have stalked off.”

Jenny stared at one of her knitting needles as if she contemplated plunging it into his breast. “Let me make sure I have this straight. All I had to do was to tell you where I was for an hour during the smack-dab middle of the day?”

“More like three hours.”

“Three hours.” She calmly laid her knitting aside, then rose to her feet. She braced her hands on her hips and stepped toward him, her head dropping back as she moved close. “Excuse me, McBride, but the country fought a war over slavery not long ago. I made certain promises to you when we married, but I don’t recall ‘accounting for each and every minute of my time’ as being one of them.”

Damn, but she was beautiful when she was in a temper. Her skin glowed with color and her eyes sparkled like sunlight on blue water. She was spirited, vibrant, and alive. He spoke without thinking. “God, woman, you make me want you.”

She tossed her head, flinging her long blond tresses across her shoulder. “You make me crazy, McBride! Completely, totally, one-hundred-percent crazy.” She reached for him and he expected to feel her hand strike him. Instead, her fingers tugged at the buttons on his shirt, opening them one by one. “What have I done to make you doubt me?” She yanked the shirt free of his pants. “What have I done to threaten your trust?”

She pushed the shirt off his shoulders, down and off his arms. Balling it up, she threw it away. “And what,” she continued, pushing his bare chest with the palms of both hands, backing him across the room, “what makes you think I’d ever put up with having to account for every minute of my time? I’m a grown woman, McBride. I’m an independent woman. If you wanted to keep track of every tiny second of your wife’s life, then you should never have married me!”

With that, she pushed him onto their bed and followed right behind him. She leaned over him, her unbound breasts grazing his chest. When her mouth was scant inches from his own, she said in her mellowest, sippin’ whiskey voice, “But aren’t you glad you did?”

They made love with a fierceness that surprised them both. It was a consensual taking and giving, commanding and surrendering. When it was over and they lay spent, sated, and replete, Jenny absently trailed her fingers across his abdomen and said, “I won’t betray you, Trace. You can trust me.”

For a long moment, he remained silent, a bittersweet emotion gripping his heart. With a sigh, he said, “That’s the problem. I can’t.”

Her body, so soft and pliant a moment before, stiffened. Before she could protest, he laid a finger across her lips. “Shush, honey. You don’t understand. It’s not you at all. It’s old demons that are riding my back with their claws sunk deep.”

“What do you mean?” she asked softly.

He curled a strand of long blond hair around his finger. “I think it’s beyond my ability to trust in anyone anymore. I know that’s not what you’re wanting to hear, but it’s the truth—my truth.”

“What happened? This must have something to do with your first wife.”

His finger stilled. “I’ll not speak of that woman while I’m in our bed with you.” He rose above her and stared down into her face. “Don’t worry about it, Jenny. I’ll handle it from now on. Better than I did today, I hope.” He sealed his promise with a quick kiss.

“Now, there’s something else I want to talk about,” he continued. “How would you like to take a little trip?”

“A trip? Where? When?”

He rolled onto his back and pulled her into the shelter of his arms. “Well, we’d need to leave tomorrow, actually. Be gone about a week. Definitely home for Christmas. I found out this evening that Hill County is about to decide on an architect to design their new courthouse. I’d like to have a go at getting the job. Counties all across Texas are in the market for landmark courthouses, and if I could get one commission, it might keep me busy for years. It’s the type of work I love, to be honest. Not that I mind designing houses, it’s just that—”

Jenny stopped him with a kiss. “Of course you’ll go to Hill County, and they’ll be fools if they don’t choose you to design their new courthouse.”

“I figured we could take the girls and make it a little holiday.”

She shook her head. “This is a business trip. You don’t need your family tagging along and tying you down. Besides, the girls have school and I have gowns to finish.”

“No, Jenny. I’m not leaving you here alone. I can’t. What if Big Jack were to return?”

Jenny considered the problem. It would be stupid of her to disregard the possibility of danger. Big Jack wanted her punished “permanently” because of the accidents his daughters suffered. The question returned time and again: How would he react when he learned his son was dead?

“Trace, you can’t be with us all the time—”

“True, but I can be here when he gets back to town.” His expression grew grim. “He won’t bother us after that, I can assure you.”

They sat silently for a time, each occupied with thoughts of Bailey. Then Trace gave Jenny a quick hug. “Never mind, sweetheart. I’ll skip the trip. There’ll be other courthouses.”

“No. You need to do this. It’s important. Besides, I have an idea. What if we hire a bodyguard while you’re gone? Surely you know somebody who would be good.”

She watched his expression as he considered it.

“Bart Rogers. He used to drink at the End of the Line.”

After another moment’s thought, he scowled. Jenny sensed he might be about to refuse, so she added, “We could ask Mrs. Wilson to stay the nights while you’re gone. I know she prefers to keep this as a day job, but I’ll bet she’d help us out for a week. In fact, we could have the bodyguard walk the girls to and from school. We could even arrange for someone to walk me to work and back if that would make you feel better. We’d be safer than if you were in town.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said dryly.

She smiled sheepishly. “You know what I mean. We’ll be fine here, Trace. I don’t want you to worry a bit. And, when you come back, I’ll have a surprise waiting for you.”

He arched a brow. “A surprise?”

She gave him her cat-’n’-cream smile. “An extra special Christmas present.”

Sitting up, he studied her with a calculating expression. “What is it?”

She shook her head.

“Come on, darlin’, give me a hint. Just a little one?”

Laughter burst from inside her. “You and your daughters are so very much alike. I’ve been hearing the same sort of thing from them for weeks. And you know what?” She gave his side a little pinch.

“Ouch! What?” He gave a mock ferocious glare.

She pretended to turn a lock on her mouth. “I don’t tell them a thing. Just like I won’t tell you anything about your extra special present—at least until you come home from Hill County with a commission to design their new courthouse in your pocket.”

“What if I don’t get the job?”

When he said that, she knew she’d convinced him. He’d hire this Bart Rogers in the morning and probably drive her crazy with instructions before leaving on the eleven-thirty train. “You will get the job. I have total confidence in you, Husband mine.”

“Hmm.” He lowered his head and nuzzled her neck. “Bet I can convince you to tell me what my surprise is now.”

Her smile was a sweet, sensuous invitation. “You’re welcome to give it a try.”

Much later Trace fell back on his pillow, pleasantly exhausted. “You win,” he said when he could catch his breath. “You fight dirty, but you win. You can keep a secret like no woman I’ve ever known before.”

Jenny stretched languidly and purred. “What can I say, McBride? I’m good at everything I do.”

Almost five minutes passed before he spoke again. When he did, his voice rumbled soft and low, without a sign of the banter that had flavored their previous conversation. “I know you’re good. That’s why, even after all this mess today, I’ll be able to leave Fort Worth tomorrow without you. I have confidence in you, too.”

She snuggled close to him. “You trust me.”

She’d fallen off to sleep before he whispered, “I’ll try, treasure. I surely will try.”