The Cowboy’s Bride by Donna Alward

12

His body was so close and warm that it was hard to think, and she scrambled to think of a topic to change the subject. She started to panic until a single thought popped into her brain and she blurted it out. “So, you told me once that you wanted to be a vet before the accident. Why didn’t you? What held you back?”

It was a good question, it turned out. The shift was complete, and he drew back a little. The cool night air pricked up goosebumps on her skin and she turned to look up into his face.

“And what would I have done with the farm, the herd?” His eyes evaded hers, staring out into the inky blackness as the moon went beneath a cloud. “The whole plan had been for Dad and Jim to run things while I did the schooling, set up the practice here, and Dad would slowly phase out into retirement and Jim and I would run things together. I couldn’t just abandon Windover. I love it here. It fell to me to look after it.”

“And you always take your responsibilities seriously.”

“That’s why they’re responsibilities.”

Alex heard the sad note in his voice and smiled. “I, for one, am glad of it, because you’ve saved me from being in quite a pickle.”

He adjusted his arm, pulling her more securely into the curve of his shoulder. “I like having you here, or hadn’t you noticed?”

“You were lonely.”

His voice came out over top of her hair, quiet against the wistful howl of the coyotes on the hunt again.

“Yes, I was.”

She hesitated before asking the next question, wanting to know, afraid of prying too deeply.

“Did…did you get to see them? To say goodbye?”

She felt his throat constrict, bob against her head and she wondered if she’d indeed gone too far by asking such an intimate question. But all he said was a soft, “No.”

She reached over and squeezed his hand, the one that moments ago had been resting on the soft stretched skin of her tummy. “I didn’t, either. They only found…” she stopped, had to swallow against the painful constriction in her throat. This was silly. She hadn’t gotten emotional over it for years. But Connor seemed to have the knack of bringing all her emotions shimmering just beneath the surface. She cleared her throat.

“They only found pieces of the plane and some…some body parts. I never had that chance. I wish I had. I wish I could have been prepared.”

“Nothing prepares you for having your life ripped away from you,” he murmured huskily.

“Suddenly I just resented so much, you know? Don’t get me wrong. I’ve seen some pretty cool things, being the daughter of historians who traveled. But I guess we always want what we don’t have. What I wanted was a regular life. A school year where I had perfect attendance. A mom who baked cookies for my lunch or was my Girl Guide leader. I wanted something more…normal.”

“Stable and secure.”

“Yes.”

“And then yousacrificed your own dreams just to stay afloat.”

“Sounds familiar, doesn’t it, Connor?” She smiled against the side of his chest and felt, rather than heard, his soft chuckle as he silently conceded her point.

“So, Alex Grayson Madsen, what did you want to do?”

She perched up on her elbow and aimed an impish grin at him. “You ready?” At his nod, she continued. “I wanted to study to be a chef.”

He laughed, the feeling warm and welcome. When her giggles joined his, his heart was lighter than it had been in a long time.

Their laughter faded to smiles, the smiles to soft gazes. Soul-baring didn’t come easy to either of them, Connor realized. But they’d taken a step tonight. A step to understanding. A step to trusting. He stared at her full, soft lips, wondered how they would taste if he touched his mouth to hers.

“Alex.”

He murmured it, sexy-soft, giving her hand a tug until she rested more closely against his chest. She shuddered as he leaned forward, his hair brushing against hers. The combination smelled like flowers and hay. The baby moved against his hand again as his lips nuzzled her earlobe and up along the side, making all the nerve endings in her neck tighten with anticipation. Instinctively she moved her head against his ear, silently asking for more.

Connor’s heart pounded heavily. Never in a million years had he considered that he’d be terrified of touching his own wife, or humbled at feeling a baby kick beneath his hand, especially one not his own.

But he was feeling both awe and need, and he took it slowly, nibbling on her ear, feeling all the electric parts where their bodies touched. She turned her head into his and he brushed light kisses against her jaw. When her weight shifted slightly, he let his hand slide from to cradle her ribs intimately.

He sensed her fear and longing, recognizing it because he felt it himself. He couldn’t meet her eyes, too afraid that she’d break away if he gave her the chance. With his right arm he pressed gently until she turned into his body, and he kissed her like he’d wanted to all day.

Connor was determined to coax her, yet it wasn’t necessary as her warm lips met his equally, hungrily. She wanted him, he realized with a start. Without convincing or coercion. His breath came out with a rush and he pulled her up so she lay firmly across his chest, his hand threading through her hair to hold her head in place while his tongue swept into her mouth.

The coyotes howled and his heart sang as she pressed closer to him and his hand slid down over her shoulder, settling just under her arm, with his thumb grazing her full breast. Their cores were pressed together, the firmness of her swollen belly against the taut zipper of his jeans so that she was in no doubt of what was happening to him. Their lips parted and he slid his tongue seductively down the column of her neck.

“I want you,” he groaned against her skin, the blood pounding through him furiously. He was sure she could feel a pulse from every inch of his body.

She moaned and arched and he slid up a bit, putting his arms beneath her knees as if to lift her.

“Stop,” she breathed raggedly, but his answer was to kiss her again.

She pulled away. “Connor stop. Please.”

He froze, struggling to breathe.

Finally her eyes met his. They were wide, the pupils dark with arousal and tinged with fear.

“I can’t…”

“Can’t?” He said it softly, but it came out strained. So much at stake, fraught with complications but all he was thinking about right now was taking her upstairs and loving her thoroughly. He shouldn’t feel this attraction, not after this brief amount of time and not when she was pregnant with another man’s baby. Heck, he wasn’t even sure if she was still in love with the father or not and all he could to think about was kissing the wounded look off her face.

She pushed herself out of his arms, staring at him now with something akin to panic. He didn’t adjust his position. He stayed half-reclined on the swing, hiding nothing from her.

“It’s too so…I mean, it’s too much,” she stammered, her face white in the moonshine.

“You were going to say it’s too soon.” He blinked slowly, holding her tether with his eyes. “Which means you want to.”

She backed up a few steps and her eyes skittered away. “It’s far more complicated than that.”

“You’re my wife.”

Alex’s eyes snapped to his, something in her clicking into place at the warm, proprietary tone in his voice. She wanted to believe. But that was the whole problem. She wanted to believe so much that she wasn’t sure she could be objective. She could be only hearing what she wanted to hear. She wanted Connor to want her to stay, but by his own admission he hadn’t been in a relationship for a while. It was only natural to get caught up in their situation, wasn’t it? But what would happen later? What if he changed his mind, realizing that he didn’t want to be married to her anymore?

There was too much at stake to let this progress into something that would only be temporary. And leaving, after knowing what it was like to make love to him would be unbearable.

She had to take a step back.

“In name.”

His eyes cooled, hot magma to cold ash. “Right.”

“Look, it’s a hard situation…” she blushed at his snort of sarcasm at her terminology. “We got caught up in the moment, that’s all.”

“Sure. The moment.” He pushed himself up, sitting on the swing now with an unreadable expression masking his face.

“It’s simply not sensible, Connor. Surely you can see that. We made an agree…”

“An agreement, yeah yeah,” he broke in impatiently. “I know all about the agreement. I thought it up, remember?”

“You’re angry.”

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. It fell raggedly around his face and she wondered how any woman remained immune to him; the way his eyes glowed brown and gold in the moonlight, how he always seemed to have that sexy shadow of stubble by the end of the day...

She shook her head. Big picture, big picture, she repeated to herself.

“I’m frustrated. We both know this has gone beyond friendship. Even if you try to deny it, you know it’s true.”

Her mouth opened and shut like a fish in a bowl. He rose from the swing, and briefly Alex was reminded of a mountain lion, strong, sinuous, stalking its prey. She was helpless as he took slow, deliberate steps until he stood before her, tall, imposing, hard, sexy as sin. Her throat closed over as she tried to swallow. How hard would he press his case? And how strong was she to resist?

His hand, warm and calloused, gently cupped the soft skin of her jaw and her breath came in shallow gasps. She must not, could not, do anything she’d regret.

“Do you know how beautiful you are in the moonlight?” His voice was husky, intimate.

She said nothing, determined to stand her ground, knowing if she spoke she’d say something that would play right into his hands.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you since that kiss on our wedding day. But you know that, don’t you?”

Dear Lord, he was trying to seduce her and doing a most fine job of it. Of course she knew, because she’d done nothing but think of him, too. She wanted to believe him. The risk taker in her begged to be freed, to let go and see where it led.

But she was something else now too—a mother. And the baby inside her demanded that she use caution. To be sure. Right now she was sure of two things. She was sure she was in love with him already, and she was sure he wanted her. But beyond that, she wasn’t sure he loved her, wasn’t sure he wanted her to stay here forever. She didn’t trust it because she wanted it too much. And taking a risk on love wasn’t something she was equipped to do, not anymore.

She calmly reached up, removed his hand, and stepped back.

“I know you want me. But wanting me isn’t enough. I have a child to consider. My baby. I won’t complicate things further than they are already complicated by sleeping with you.”

She reached out and placed a hand on his forearm, not wanting him to go away mad.

“Friends, remember? Helping each other. Caring for each other. That’s what I need right now. And that’s what you need too.”

He looked past her shoulder, out towards the mountains that hulked black in the distance. “You’re right, of course,” he replied, his voice strangely thick. “Caught in the moment.”

He turned away, back into the house, leaving her shivering in the night air and more confused than ever.

* * *

Solicitous.

That was the word to describe his behaviour towards her over the past week. Polite, kind, solicitous. But never intimate. There was nothing to fault in his treatment of her, nothing at all. Yet something was missing. A spark, that hint of something more, that kept her looking forward to seeing him and dreading it at the same time. She missed it. But it was what she’d asked for.

She zipped up her jeans, pulling her pink maternity top over the waistband. It wasn’t exactly what she imagined people wore to the rodeo, but she didn’t exactly have an extensive wardrobe. Connor had said jeans were fine, not everyone dressed in cowboy boots and black hats. He’d smiled when he’d said it, but the old teasing was gone.

Had she hurt his feelings so much? It was difficult to imagine. You could only hurt people you cared about, and she wasn’t at all sure of his feelings. More than likely it was his male pride she’d wounded. Yes, that was a much more reasonable explanation for his icy, polite manner of late.

“Alex? You ready?”

Connor’s voice echoed up the stairs and she looked in the mirror one last time. Her first public appearance as Connor’s wife, and now everyone would know she was pregnant.

Everyone would think it was his.

For the first time she realized that today was going to be difficult for him, too. He wouldn’t admit to the baby being someone else’s, so he was going to have to pretend to be a happy, expectant father. Or would he? How was he going to react? She wished now that they’d discussed it, but things had been cool and reserved lately, not exactly the best atmosphere for a heart to heart.

No matter. Whatever happened today, it was going to take a great deal of acting ability on both their parts.

Downstairs he was waiting impatiently in the foyer, looking handsomer than she’d ever seen him. Snug jeans fit down his long legs, a white shirt with blue vertical stripes tucked into the waistband, emphasizing the breadth of his chest and shoulders. He wore Ropers on his feet and held a black hat in his hand.

He was, she discovered, a cowboy at heart.

“I brought you your sweater. The breeze is chilly today.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, taking it from his outstretched hand. Her eyes lifted of their own accord and met his. For some silly reason she wanted to say, “I’m sorry,” although she couldn’t have said why. Instead she slid her arms through the sleeves and grabbed the tiny purse she was taking, sliding out the door before him.

The drive to the rodeo grounds was quiet and blessedly short. As Connor found a place to park, she stared at the wedding ring on her finger and broached the subject that had been on her mind the whole drive.

“People are going to notice. Are you okay with that?”

His eyes were glued to the side view mirror. “I don’t have much choice, unless I keep you hidden from now until Christmas.”

Ouch. Honesty hurt.

“What I mean is, are you up to answering the questions they’re going to ask?”

“Are you?”

“I don’t know. I somehow think it’ll be easier for me. I’m the pregnant one. The baby is mine. You married me. There’ll be some talk about the rushed marriage, but…” She paused as he turned off the ignition and looked over at her. “But you’re going to get congratulated on being the father. It might be hard for you to pretend everything is what it seems.”

If she only knew.

The truth was, every question was going to be a reminder that the baby wasn’t his. A slap in the face. And he’d feel it as acutely as he’d felt her rejection last week. Even if her logic had been dead on, it had still hurt. Because he’d fallen for her. And everywhere he turned these days he found reminders that their time together wasn’t permanent.

He’d thought that the chemistry between them would have been enough to bridge the gap, to work on her, to make her see that he didn’t want her to leave. Instead she’d shot him down and left his head spinning.

“I can handle it.”

“Then I can, too.” She attempted a confident smile that fell flat.

He didn’t answer but got out of the truck, came over to her side and helped her down. “Here we go,” he said quietly, taking her hand and leading her towards the entrance.

All eyes were on them as they approached the grandstand. Eyes darted instantly to her midsection, and Alex felt like her lips were permanently stretched and superglued into position. Connor held her hand steadily and nodded hello to neighbours and acquaintances.

“Do you want to sit down? You might feel less conspicuous,” he leaned over and whispered in her ear.

“Won’t that look silly?”

He tugged her hand, pulling her close. “Not when the events are going to start any minute. Try to relax and have fun.”

He found them seats mid-field and crossed a booted ankle over his knee. The announcer started up, his deep voice carrying over the loudspeakers with an auctioneer-like twang.

It was fun, all of it. Alex found herself leaning on the edge of her seat during the barrel racing; laughing outrageously at the crash-helmeted children “mutton busting,” giggling as one after another the woolly sheep rid their backs of their cargo. She gasped at the bareback broncs and snorted with fun at the wild cow milking competition.

During the saddlebroncs, Connor nudged her arm. “You hungry or thirsty? I thought I might go grab something.”

Alex looked around. The stands were jam-packed in the warm June sun, many heads shaded with cowboy hats and hands holding plastic cups of beer or the traditional beef on a bun sandwiches. The scent of the beef did nothing for her and she smiled faintly. “Something cold to drink might be nice.”

“Do you want to come with me?”

Her legs were stiff from sitting most of the afternoon, but then she thought of all the neighbours and townspeople, waiting to ask questions and decided against. “I think I’ll wait here, if it’s all the same to you,” she answered, trying to smile.

She immediately regretted that choice once he was gone. Alex hadn’t quite realized how much she’d relied on the security and protection his presence provided. Now, sitting alone as one by one the riders flew off their horses and into the dusty ring, she felt eyes on her, assessing, calculating. The shape she’d hidden very successfully was now out in the open, and she knew that minds were counting months and weeks and speculating about the happy event.

Not one person here had heard a whisper of Connor having a relationship, let alone a baby on the way. Now suddenly within a month he was here, married and with a clearly pregnant wife. She felt every unasked question closing her in until she knew she had to move or scream.

And she’d left Connor to field those questions alone.

She waited several more minutes, feeling like she was in a fishbowl with the water draining fast. As the bull riding began, she left her seat and went to find him.

She caught sight of him from behind at first, standing to one side, a plastic cup in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. His weight was on one hip and she remembered being pressed close to him only a few nights ago, his body hard and sure against hers. He was talking to a young bronc rider who was laughing, his shaggy sun-streaked hair pressed into a sweaty circle from the hat he held in his hand, his jeans sporting one long brown streak of dust.

As she approached from behind the beer tent, she caught the rollicking sound of the man’s laugh. “Damn but that horse was rank. I lasted all of four seconds.”

“That’s longer than usual, if what the women around here say is true,” Connor jabbed, and the man laughed, his teeth even whiter against the dust coating his face.

“Yeah, but what a ride.”

She watched Connor take a drink, scuffing his boot in the dirt as he laughed.

Alex stopped. She shouldn’t eavesdrop, she knew that. But Connor’s voice was rich and low, that same tone that normally sent shivers up her spine.

She retreated behind the beer tent.

She didn’t want to hear what answers he provided to the questions that were sure to follow. How many of his neighbours, his associates, had stopped him today and asked about his pregnant wife? He’d been gone over half an hour. How many times had he been expected to show excitement about being a father? How much had he had to pretend that he was in love with his wife? All the while knowing he was lying to their faces?

She couldn’t do it anymore.

Her baby deserved more than a mother who lied for money, and that was exactly what it came down to. The longer she stayed, the more lies piled one on top of the other until there was no telling them apart. The beginning and the platonic marriage, then lying to herself that it was all right. Lying to Connor now about her true feelings. Living in constant fear of the truth.

Her stomach lurched painfully; she swallowed back the tears gathering in her throat. It wouldn’t do to be caught crying at the rodeo. A bubble of hysterical laughter rose. That sounded exactly like one of the country songs Connor was always playing on the radio. She stepped back, unsure of what to do next.

She couldn’t go back to her seat, not alone and not like this. She didn’t have keys to the truck, so she couldn’t go home. Instead she walked back to the abandoned parking area, toward the pickup under the poplar tree. Her hands shook as she lifted the lever for the tailgate, lowered it down, and hopped up.

Alex slid to the middle of the box, lowered her head to her knees, and tried valiantly not to cry.

She failed.