He couldn’t deny the feeling of a terrible weight being lifted from him. And when she tried to thank him, he allowed her to have her say, because he understood how her own pride demanded that she give voice to her feelings.
Jake and Becky each rested their head on one of his broad shoulders, content for the moment to share this silence. But Mace knew he had to tell them, and use words that would insure that they wouldn’t feel hurt. Where did the wisdom come from, he wondered, to guide a child’s life? A strange mood seemed to be creeping up on him, a mood that lent weight to the responsibility of raising these children. Had he somehow cheated them by not waiting to find a woman to love? A foolish thought to be having, when he had just admitted less than an hour ago that he married Erin for that very reason. Sure, he reminded himself, he hadn’t used the word love, but he implied it strongly by saying that her child was his.
“Papa,” Jake murmured sleepily, “Scrap’s waitin’ for me to sleep.”
“In a minute, son. I’ve got something very special to tell you and Becky.”
“A secret, Papa?” Becky wanted to know. One of her hands rested on his chest, the other around his neck. This was the best time of day, when they were together and told him something nice that had happened to them, or about something extra special they had seen. Sometimes, she wished that Erin could share this time with them, but she had never asked.
“Well, it was, but not anymore. How would you two feel about having a baby around here?”
“To play with? A boy, Papa. A boy like me.”
“No, silly. A baby can’t be played with. They’re too little. Right, Papa?” Becky rubbed her head against his cheek, then suddenly sat up. “Is Erin having a baby?”
“Erin?” Jake said with wonder, sitting up, too.
“First, Jake, I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl. And yes, Becky, you’re right. They are too little to be played with. And yes, it is Erin who’ll have the baby.”
“I’ll help take care of it. I’m the oldest and a girl.”
“So what, Becky. I’m takin’ good care of Scrap. Erin said so.”
“Puppies aren’t babies! Tell him, Papa, tell him I’m right again.”
“Whoa, both of you. Erin will need you both.”
“Babies cry a lot,” Becky said.
With eyes filled with remembrance, Mace rubbed his hand over his daughter’s head. He walked the floors a few nights with Becky when she was cutting her first teeth, and couldn’t help but agree. As for Jake, well, Mace had walked more nights than he cared to think about, since there had been no one else to do it.
“Papa,” Jake said, straightening up so that he could look at his father’s face. “What if we don’t like it? Can we send it away?”
“No, silly, you can’t. Brothers are dumb. You can’t send a baby back. You’re stuck with what you get. They cry and everyone runs around to make the baby stop.”
“Is what Becky said true, Papa?”
“Before I answer that, son, I’d like to know where you learned so much about babies, Becky.”
“Oh, Miss Nolie told me. She said she would never have a baby ’cause it ruins your figure. Men won’t like you anymore when you’re all fat and ugly. Or was it Miss Jessica who said that?” With a shrug, Becky lifted her head away from her father’s shoulder. “It was one of them. Anyway, when new babies come, no one wants to be bothered with the other children. Everyone gets to just fussing over the baby and makes you be quiet so they can sleep. And she said big people are cranky.”
Mace couldn’t hold back his smile, but he tried to answer and explain to them all that wasn’t the truth.
“Babies come from love—”
“Oh, Papa, that’s silly,” Becky cut in. “Babies come from mamas.”
“Yes, yes, they do, but the Lord blesses the love a man and woman share with giving them children. That makes a baby a gift of love. And a woman isn’t ugly when she carries a child.”
“Was my mama pretty?” Jake wanted to know, snuggling close.
“The prettiest ever. And to finish answering Becky’s notions, it’s true that babies cry a lot and need someone to look over them all the time. Guess I can’t deny big folks get cranky when they don’t sleep enough, but it’s just for a little time. And babies are sweet smelling, soft and cuddlesome. Just like you two were,” Mace whispered, hugging them both closer. “We didn’t love Becky less when you were born, Jake. That’s part of the Lord’s gift, too. He makes sure that papas and mamas have plenty of room in their hearts to love lots of children.”
“Erin didn’t have a mama to love her. She didn’t have a papa. She didn’t have no one.”
“How do you know, Becky?” The saddened note in his child’s voice disturbed him
“I asked her. Erin told me she didn’t have anyone special to love until she had us.”
Tugging on his shirt collar, Jake sought his attention. “Papa, will Erin still love us special when the baby comes?”
Mace didn’t answer immediately. He thought about the cracks Erin had made in his own hard veneer. He felt torn over her entrapping him into marriage, yet he couldn’t deny the conflicting feelings he had for her. Only a fool would doubt that she had opened her heart and given generously of her love to his children. But Jake had a point, a damn strong one. Would Erin turn away from Becky and Jake when her own child came? The hurt she could cause them made Mace harden his heart toward her. He would never allow her to slight his children. They had borne enough.
“Won’t Erin like us anymore?” Becky asked, restless that her father wasn’t quick to answer.
“Settle down, honey. Erin won’t be like that. Nothing will change. I promise that to both of you.” Only he knew how truly empty a promise that was. He couldn’t force Erin to love Jake and Becky more than her own child; he couldn’t force her to love them at all.
Long after the children were asleep, Mace still sat in the big rocking chair, thinking of what his announcement at supper had committed him to.
He had claimed Erin’s child as his own.
From his memory came Erin’s passionate declaration that she was his wife. And from the deeper recess of memory came her emotionless voice on their wedding night, telling him of her own dreams to have a home and a family of her own to love.
Wasn’t it the same dream that he had once? Didn’t he leave people he loved, a land that was part of his soul, and strike out on his own to make that dream come true with Sky?
With a bone-weary sigh he closed his eyes. When had he let his dream die? He still had Becky and Jake. And now, with his word, Erin and her coming child. Pride and honor still warred within him over Erin’s lie. And yet, as he sat there and remembered all she had said, he began to question why he still held that against her. What other choice did she have? He winced inwardly, recalling his naming her a whore. Never once had Erin given him reason to believe it was true.
That she could easily have become one to earn money for herself and her child was not something he could deny. Yet she had not taken that path. No one could fault her manner. Erin worked hard to bring order to his home. Unbidden came the addition, as if it were truly her own.
His wife, Erin. That came unbidden, too. Was giving his word to claim her child as his such a terrible thing to have done? And how much more would be expected from him now?
Through half-lidded eyes he gazed at his son, curled on his side, the puppy cradled close to him as Jake slept. He stared at Becky sprawled on her stomach, arms flung to the sides as if even in sleep she wanted to grab hold of the world and hang on to it.
He had told them a child was a gift of love. Erin swore that her child was conceived in less than the wonder and beauty of a man making love to the woman he loved above all others. A child was born with innocence into the world. How could he hold anything against it? How could he deny it the home and love it would need to thrive?
He had never held Jake’s birth responsible for Sky’s death. His son’s birth had brought her
joy and, as much as he mourned Sky’s death, he had not loved his son less. Jake was Sky’s last loving gift to him.
There were no clear answers to be found. He heard Erin make her way to her room next door, and wondered if she waited for him.
Would she be taking down her hair? Brushing out the rich thickness of it until it spread down to her hips? He had told his children there was nothing ugly about a woman who carried a child, for he believed this was so. Certainly nothing about Erin ceased his body’s need to find ease with her.
Mace came out of the chair in a controlled rush. Desire had no place in this room. He opened the door quietly and closed it behind him, standing in the hallway to stare at the thin edge of light that came from beneath Erin’s door.
She’d be worried about how the children took the news, he told himself, still not moving.
He could just take those few steps, knock softly so as not to wake anyone, tell her and return to his room.
He wouldn’t linger in the doorway, breathing in the scent of her, or finding with his gaze all the little touches she added from odds and ends to make her room her own. He most certainly wouldn’t be thinking of the ache inside him, or of the need that beat in his blood to take her mouth with his and hear that soft cry of hers.
And since he was in a mood to lie to himself, he could believe that a few kisses wouldn’t make sleep impossible again tonight.
A sensible man would go to his own room. Mace was a most sensible man.
Erin opened the door before he could bring his hand up to knock.
“I waited…”
“I knew…” Mace stopped, just as she had. “You first,” he offered, unable to meet her eyes. She hadn’t taken down her hair yet. The cover was undisturbed on the bed, but his gaze was drawn to the pristine nightgown that graced one corner of it.
“Why did you wait, Erin?”
“To know…the children…did they…” She stopped trying to talk past the lump in her throat. The desire to be in his arms, held against the heat and power of his body drove all sense from her mind. He had let her tell him how grateful she was for what he had done when they finished the dishes. But it was more than gratitude she felt—much, much more.
“Jake and Becky seemed more concerned over the noise a baby makes than anything else. They need the reassurance only you can give them that they won’t be cut off from you once the child is born.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” she whispered, searching his face for a sign of what he was thinking. “I wish I knew the right words to thank you for what you did.” Her head bowed, for she was unable to look at him. “I realize that what you said must have cost you a great deal of pride, and I just wanted you to know that I promise I won’t do anything to make you sorry.”
“You shouldn’t make a man a blanket promise like that.”
“Why?” she asked, turning away from him
“A man could read whatever he wanted into it.” Bracing his shoulder against the door frame as if he needed to remind himself not to step into the room, Mace crossed his arms in front of his chest and watched her.
Erin turned slowly, unwilling to take his words at face value. She stared as his hands. Strong and callused, and so capable of being gentle. With a quick little shake of her head, Erin sought to dispel such thoughts. But there was very little she could do to stop her body’s awareness of him. Or stop her gaze from seeing the age-softened denim that hugged his hips and muscular legs.
It disconcerted her that Mace seemed to diminish her room with his purely masculine force although he had not entered it. Her gaze rose to his chin, shadowed by dark evening stubble, and stopped. What was she doing? Standing there and staring at him, while she struggled to remember what it was he said. The words escaped her. All she could recall was his acceptance of her child.
“Please,” she said without thought, “why did you do it?”
For a moment Mace thought about hedging, but he knew what she was asking. A shrug came first, until she raised her eyes to his. He saw bewilderment in their green depths. “There wasn’t much of a choice.”
“I see.” She nodded, having no more understanding than she did before she asked.
Mace confirmed that. “You couldn’t. You’re a woman, and women never figure things the way a man does.” The moment the words were out, he wished them unsaid. The soft glow of the lamp behind her seemed to make her softer, smaller, and once again his desire flared. His skin felt too tight, his blood too hot running beneath its surface. A smart man would get out now. A smart man would remember the tossings and turnings of the nights past. A smart man would not be thinking of her rashly given promise of seconds ago.
He used the only defense he had left. “Don’t be thinking that this will change much between us. We’ll go on just like we are.” The light in her eyes died. How could she appear to be fragile without moving? With a restless shift, he found himself in the room. “I’ll see if you have enough wood. Ketch swears we’ll have snow by morning.”
She thought about stopping him, but he was already opening the wood box’s lid, nodding to see that it was full. “Guess that’s it, then,” he said, straightening and turning toward where she stood by the bureau’s edge. For a brief second Mace swore he saw regret in her gaze. Was she thinking what he was, that if this were a real marriage, he’d already be in bed, watching her take down her hair, waiting for her to come to him? But that wasn’t true and he was the fool for even thinking about it. “You’ve got an extra quilt?”
“Top shelf of the wardrobe,” she answered softly with a wave of her hand. Why didn’t he leave? She had thought he diminished the space before. There didn’t seem to be enough air for them both to breathe now. Regret and deep longing spilled through her. If they were really married, she could ask Mace to rub the ache from her back while they lay together beneath the quilt. He would hold her close and whisper his dreams for the child and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t find her ugly, so that a good-night kiss might lead to more.
“That’s it, then,” he repeated, still not making a move to leave. What had brought that dreamy look into her eyes? And the slight flush that colored her cheeks? She couldn’t have any idea of what he was thinking. But would Erin reject him if he…No, he couldn’t risk touching her.
And only he knew that his skin felt near to bursting as he walked by and closed the door.
And Erin blamed the changes the baby was making in her body for the tears that fell.
The days of March slipped in with the sweetly offered promise of the coming spring. Erin knew something had changed between her and Mace from that night he claimed her child as his. She seemed ever aware of him. He didn’t even need to be within her sight. Mace continued to work close by and, more often than not, she caught herself stopping her own chores to watch him at his.
This morning he was chopping wood. Again, she realized. Ketch’s prediction about the weather not holding had partly come true. The wind was bitter cold, but the snow had not come.
Leaning as close as her rounded belly let her, Erin gazed through the window at Mace, admiring the masculine grace and power of his body as the sharp bite of the ax sank into the wood. Cold as it was, he was working without his jacket and the muscles of his back and arms strained the soft blue fabric of his shirt. He stopped for a minute or so, wiping the sweat from his brow, and she swore he looked right at her. Thank goodness he couldn’t see her peeking through the curtain. Her body filled with these strange shimmering sensations that raced through her as if she had a fever. Even though she was soon to be a mother, all her thoughts directed themselves to Mace. How he smiled a bit more, how he lost the biting edge when he spoke to her now, how he wasn’t above offering a compliment for a meal he liked. She wanted so much to be a real wife to him. Sharing his pleasures, and his problems…
“Miz Erin, horses got more sense than you two,” Ketch said, coming up behind her.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Ketch. I was just straightening the
corner of the curtain. Must have gotten wet and dried curled up.”
“You know what I’m saying, all right,” he insisted, helping himself to a cup of fresh coffee. “Boss’s out there, jus’ like a stud pawin’ the fence, dancin’ round to show off. He’s been keepin’ all the other males away, or ain’t you noticed none of that?”
Erin faced him, knowing her cheeks were brightening. “I see you here. You’re a male. So that makes what you’re saying sheer foolishness.”
“Don’t count. Me, that is. I’m too old.”
Erin had to smile at him. There was a teasing twinkle in his eyes. This wasn’t the first time Ketch had caught her watching Mace. It wasn’t the first time he said anything to her, either. It had taken a while for her to sass him back, for she didn’t believe what he was saying. What possible reason would Mace have for holding back from her, besides the fact that she carried someone else’s child?
“Never knew a body to get what they’s awantin’ by jus’ wishin’ for it.” Draining his cup, Ketch set it down on the table and left her to ponder his words.
Willpower, Mace told himself, that’s what he needed more of. He knew things had changed since that night he had put pride aside for Erin. Well, that wasn’t exactly the whole truth of it. He had done it for himself and his children, as well. But damned if he could understand why his vow not to touch her had to be strengthened at every turn. And why she seemed bent on destroying him
He caught her, far too often for his peace of mind, with her gaze pinned on him. Those green eyes held a meld of surprise, curiosity and desire. Didn’t the fool woman know what she was doing to him?
Need savaged him until he felt as if he spent every second fighting the fever that raged.
He stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow, glancing at the back door. Ketch was coming down the steps. Likely, he was going to tell Mace that he should ease up. Well, he did intend to. There were less than three months to go, if Owhi’s reckoning and his own memory served. No, nearly five, he reminded himself. Erin wasn’t Sky, as she repeatedly told him, and so she would need a good number of weeks after giving birth to heal.
Gifts of Love Page 17