The Cowboy’s Bride by Donna Alward

11

“Put me down, you idiot!”

Alex’s laughter echoed through the dim foyer as she squirmed in his arms. Goodness, he’d lifted her as though she were as light as a feather, the warmth of his body flooding through her as her arms looped around his neck instinctively. Her heart raced at being in his arms, even if he were only acting silly.

They smiled at each other a long time, until Connor quietly commented, “It’s good to hear you laugh.”

“I haven’t done it much lately. Neither have you.”

“Perhaps now we can change that,” he remarked, taking a step towards her.

Her heart leapt in her chest as he approached, but he merely passed by her and went to the fridge.

“The music will go on for another hour. Why don’t you go change out of your dress? There’s something I wanted to do earlier that I forgot.”

She was about to refuse when the band began another song, the bass and drums pounding loudly, quelling any argument she might have made for retiring. “Oh, all right,” she relented, heading for the stairs.

She struggled with the zipper at the back of her dress for nearly five minutes, but she’d be darned if she’d ask for his help. After that kiss on the dance floor, and the way he’d looked at her all night, the last thing she needed was his help undressing.

She paused, her hands splayed across her burgeoning belly, assessing. Before too long it would be very clear why they got married, and everyone would think the baby was Connor’s. What then, would people think when a few months after he or she was born, they separated, and she left with the child?

And why in the world was she worried about what others would think? It had never mattered before, but then she’d never let herself rely on anyone before either. She’d only had herself to worry about, and she was finding that not being alone, even temporarily, was a big adjustment.

Alex pulled on yoga pants and a t-shirt. She hung up the dress carefully, running her fingers over the bodice wistfully. Oh, what a wedding day. And what a laughable wedding night. Alex, in shabby clothes while her new husband made a midnight snack. Not a candle or bottle of champagne in sight. No white silk lingerie or rose petals spread on the bed.

When she returned downstairs the band was still playing and laughter echoed throughout the yard. Connor was placing wine goblets on the table. She followed and sat down.

“You look comfortable.”

“I suppose.” She helped herself to a strawberry from a small dish he’d placed in the middle of the table and dipped it in yogurt. “What do you think they’d say”—she gestured towards the backyard with her strawberry— “If they could see us now?”

His tie was gone and his shirt unbuttoned. Casually he twisted the top off a bottle of sparkling grape juice.

“Who cares? I didn’t do this for them.”

“Then who did you do it for?”

Brown eyes clashed with hers in the grey light. The longer he was silent the more she was drawn in until she almost believed he’d done it for her. But that was silly. She’d told him already that a simple Justice of the Peace would have sufficed.

“For Windover,” he said finally, settling back in his chair.

Of course. And she’d done it for the security of her child.

She picked another berry off the platter. “Thank you for everything you’ve done,” she said, stronger than she felt. She had to be realistic. The kiss during the dance had been merely for show, to avoid unpleasant questions. She understood that now. Nothing in the situation had changed, besides the fact that she had feelings that she couldn’t reveal without making everything go pear-shaped. “Let’s hope things go smoothly from here on in.”

He poured the liquid into the glasses. “I knew you couldn’t have champagne, but I wanted us to have a toast. It only seemed right.” He recapped the bottle and chuckled. “A twist off top. Reminds me of college days.”

He was trying to keep things light; the least she could do was go along. “A lovely vintage, I’m sure.”

He handed her the glass, standing close by her side. “To the beginning of a great future, for both of us.”

She raised her glass with a shaky hand, touching the rim to his before drinking. She should offer something in response, but everything she wanted to say would come out wrong. She remembered looking up at the sky and seeing the first star appear earlier.

“To dreams coming true.”

She closed her eyes and made the brief wish in her heart.

She’d put such childish things behind her long ago, but now, with so much at stake, she dared fate.

“To dreams,” he answered, touching her glass in response.

* * *

Alex woke late,past nine, to dim light and the sound of rain spattering against her window. Connor would have been up ages ago, despite the late hour they’d gone to bed, and she’d fully meant to get up at the usual time and make breakfast. He wouldn’t be haying today, she realized.

Now that the wedding was over, she got out the clothes she’d been hiding – maternity jeans and a cute stretchy t-shirt in pale yellow that would grow with her over the coming months. She examined herself in the mirror. More comfortable, yes, but also very clear now that she was expecting. It was a relief and a strain all at once. But she couldn’t hide it forever.

At the bottom of the stairs she was surprised to see Connor sitting at the table, drinking coffee.

He looked up as she stepped inside and smiled, a slice of warmth that made her tingly all over as his eyes assessed her new clothing.

“Well, well. I bet that feels better.”

“Much.”

“No more popping buttons or strained zippers?” He lifted his coffee cup, eyes twinkling above the rim.

“No, but thanks for pointing that out.”

She went to the fridge, took out the milk and poured a glass for herself.

“A lot of men find pregnant women extremely attractive.”

And would you be one of them?The question popped into her mind but not out of her mouth. Innuendoes had no place now. The most important thing was to keep things friendly and remember the end goal. Security for her baby, prosperity for Windover, and her heart left intact.

“It’s probably something about the so-called ‘glow.’”

“I suppose, but it’s more than that.” He abandoned playing with his mug for a moment and studied her earnestly. “There’s something about a woman, knowing she’s carrying that life inside her, nurturing it, loving it…it’s…” His voice dropped off.

Despite the discomfort she was feeling at the moment, she urged him to continue. “It’s what?”

“Sacred.”

He rose and put his cup in the dishwasher, avoiding her gaze, and she knew he’d revealed more than he intended. Goodness, he couldn’t be fighting attraction too, could he?

Of course not. That was more wishful thinking on her part.

When he turned back his cheeks were more relaxed, eyes friendly. “I didn’t mean to be backward in paying a compliment,” he explained. “What I meant to say is…I hope you’re not self-conscious about it. You look wonderful.”

She had been getting over the self-conscious bit—until now, that is, and she turned away before he saw her embarrassment.

“Have you been out to the barns already?” She changed the subject.

“Mike did the chores again as a wedding present, so I slept in.”

Despite her fatigue, sleep had been long in coming and she wondered if it had for him as well. Had he lain on his side of the wall with wishes of his own? Had he been thinking, as she had, about what she’d always hoped her wedding would be? The real one, not the acting job they’d done yesterday. Although at times it hadn’t felt much like acting…

“I’ve got meetings in Leduc this afternoon. I’m going to shower, unless you want to go first.”

“No, I’ll clean up I think,” she replied, waving her hand at the leftover mess from the previous day. Empty trays littered the back counter and their fruit platter and wine glasses sat partially full from their midnight repast. “Your grandmother will be coming back for her things, too.”

It was a reminder that after this morning, they’d be living here alone, unchaperoned. It added a degree of intimacy that lived and breathed as tangibly as both of them.

“By the way, the rodeo is next week.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Don’t make any plans, okay? I want to take you to the finals at least. It’s a fun time.”

She’d never been to a rodeo in her life. Her only experience with it had been changing the channel when the Calgary Stampede coverage came on in the summer. Men in dirty boots and cowboy hats, getting on livestock that smelled, and getting knocked off. She smiled weakly. “I’m not sure rodeo’s my thing.”

His smile faded so quickly she knew she’d end up going just out of guilt.

“At least think about it.” His voice cooled considerably. “Everyone from around here goes. It might look funny if you didn’t.”

She fought the urge to remind him it had only been the previous night that he had said he didn’t care what people thought, but she certainly didn’t want to start an argument only one day after their wedding.

He jogged up the stairs two at a time while she blew out a breath, wondering how they were going to stumble their way through the next six months if already they were tiptoeing around each other, dissecting words.

* * *

He shuthis binder and pushed back his chair now that the meeting was over. His thoughts should have been about the dire news he’d received today…but all he could think about was how he’d bungled things with Alex this morning.

First of all, he went on and on about how beautiful pregnant women were, then he got shot down about the rodeo. He’d forgotten, quite simply, that she wasn’t a rancher’s wife. She’d have no interest in rodeo, and the original agreement was only short term, so why would she bother putting herself out? She didn’t want to stay here, so why did he want to convince her to stay?

He cared about her. He wasn’t made to live alone, without being surrounded by family, and being with Alex felt right.

If she didn’t want to go to the rodeo, he shouldn’t press. As he packed up his briefcase, he realized that maybe she was self-conscious about the state of her pregnancy. Of the questions that would arise from relative strangers. It had probably been insensitive of him to mention it. But if he hadn’t…he didn’t want it to seem like he didn’t want to take her anywhere. To keep her hidden.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” he muttered, scowling. Would he walk on eggshells for the next months, worried about making the wrong move? It had never been hard for him to make the difficult decisions before. He’d always been the strong one.

But the stakes were higher this time, and for the first time in his life, he admitted something to himself. Something he’d avoided acknowledging throughout his grief for his family, or during the whole ranch crisis. Something he would never have disclosed to another living soul.

He was scared.

* * *

The evening was quiet,with only the fading sounds of the birds echoing through the soft twilight. Connor had disappeared after dinner, taking the ATV and going to the south pasture to check on stock. Now that the kitchen was cleaned up, Alex eschewed television or even a book and instead sat rocking gently in the porch swing, listening to the sounds of impending night and watching the moon rise off to her left.

Connor had worried about her feeling isolated out here in the middle of nowhere, but the brittle truth was that she’d felt far more alone in the various cities where she’d lived. She knew now that people did not cure loneliness. Only one thing did, and that was belonging.

But, for how long?

There was an owl somewhere close by, his call echoing plaintively as she caught sight of low headlights approaching from the pasture. Soon after, the drone of the ATV engine reached her ears then muted as it disappeared behind one of the barns. Minutes later Connor appeared as she rocked the swing with a bare toe, sending it swaying gently back and forth.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. What a night.”

“I know.” She smiled up at him, pointing. “There’s an owl over there somewhere.”

He hooted, then suddenly a sorrowful howl threaded through the silence.

“Do the coyotes bother you?”

The toe kept the swing going. “No. I think they sound wild and beautiful.”

She patted the swing beside her, inviting him to sit. He did, the swing creaking beneath the increased weight. Just having him this close warmed the air around her, raising the hairs on her arms. She stroked her fingers down her arm, and without a word, Connor rose, grabbed an oversized fleece from the hook inside the door, and handed it to her.

“Thanks.”

He sat again, and they rocked in companionable silence as the night deepened and the coyotes howled plaintively.

It was a marvel how they could sit and not feel the need to speak. It was one of the things she most enjoyed about his company. It was comfortable.

“I’ve thought about Saturday. I’d like to go, if you still want me to.”

His body stayed still, but his head turned to the side, watching her. “You don’t have to if you don’t want. I don’t want to pressure you.”

“It would look odd if I didn’t.”

“So what? That doesn’t matter. And there will likely be questions that you may not want to answer. I don’t want to put you in that position.”

“Are you saying you don’t want me to go?” She met his eyes earnestly. “I can understand that. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to be here that long. If you want to keep it low-key…”

He flinched. “That’s not what I meant at all. I want you to be comfortable. You’re welcome to come or not. It’s up to you.”

Now the silence was awkward and heavy.

After a few minutes he spoke. “This is the damnedest thing.”

“I know.” The swing creaked softly as it rocked back and forth. Alex kept her gaze fixed on the white moon as it rose across the prairie.

“Married, but not married. Stumbling around trying to make sure we say the right thing. Perhaps it would be better if we were just honest.”

Fat chance.Alex knew she couldn’t tell him how she felt, not with their agreement being what it was. If he thought it was awkward now, what would it be like if she unburdened herself only to hear that he didn’t feel the same?

“How honest?”

He laughed a little. “How about, I’d like you to come with me on Saturday, but I understand if you don’t want to.”

He was way too devastating when he laughed like that, his eyes sparkling darkly.

“I’d like to come. It’ll be something new.”

“About the questions you might face…”

Alex smiled, so widely he goggled. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” she breathed, touching her hand to her tummy. “Oh my.”

“Alex?”

“The baby’s moving.” Her grin was a wide hosanna of joy. “Oh Connor. I thought the last few days it was gas.” She laughed. “But this is definitely it.”

Instinctively she reached out and grabbed his hand, placing the wide palm on the hard, cotton-covered bubble. “There. No, wait.” She adjusted his hand, ignoring the startled expression that widened his eyes and flattened his chin.

His eyes stared at his hand, then up in her eyes.

“Wait. She’s really moving now.”

“She?” He cocked his head inquisitively. “You think it’s a girl? I thought you thought it was a boy.”

“Why would you think that?”

“That night in the den. You said, ‘he’s growing.’”

“Well I can’t exactly call my child ‘it,’ can I? For some reason I think now that she’s a she. Mother’s prerogative,” she added with a smile. Alex couldn’t explain it fully, but lately, as her shape had changed, she had a feeling that it was her little girl in there.

His hand was spreading its warmth, and she loved how it felt, solid and sure. If she had her wish, he would be the father to her baby. She removed his fingers, lifted up her t-shirt a few inches and put his wide hand back on her bare skin.

The baby responded, sending a butterfly vibration skittering against their flattened hands. Connor’s gaze flew up to hers.

“That is the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt,” Connor whispered hoarsely. “What does it feel like inside?”

She shifted her shoulder so she was leaning more against him, the pose both intimate and comfortable. “I don’t know. Sort of like a gas bubble rolling around, only bigger. Like…” Like the butterflies I got when you first kissed me, she thought.

“Like what?” His breath was warm against her hair.

“Like Christmas.”

He smiled. She felt it against her scalp even though she couldn’t see his face.

His hand shifted, still beneath the hem of her t-shirt, the tips of his fingers slipping cautiously beneath the waistband of her jeans.

It would take no more than a slight turn and she could be fit against him. Kissing him. Feeling his hands on her skin, where she so desperately wanted them. Carnal. There was no other word for the way she felt right now. Pregnant or not.

But she’d die before making the first move.