The Seduction of His Wife

by Janet Chapman

  “In the middle of the day?” Delaney asked in surprise.

  “She got in a small truck accident this morning, and she’s a bit banged up,” Alex explained, helping them out of their backpacks and jackets. “She’s okay, just sore and sleepy because the doctor gave her a pill to make her more comfortable.”

  “Like you took?” Tucker asked in a loud whisper, his eyes rounded with worry.

  “Just like I took. But if you’re both real quiet, I’ll let you peek in her room so you’ll see for yourselves that she’s okay. Can you be real quiet, Tuck?”

  Tucker nodded.

  Alex led his kids over to the door, slowly opened it, then quietly herded them inside. Delaney immediately walked up to the opposite side of the bed and frowned at Sarah before looking up to her father. Alex touched his finger to his lips, took Tucker’s hand, and motioned for Delaney to follow them out.

  “Why are her eyes covered up?” Tucker asked the moment Alex closed the bedroom door behind them. “Is she blind?”

  “Only for a few days,” Alex assured his kids. “Do you remember what happens when you get a sunburn on your arms?”

  Both children solemnly nodded.

  “Sarah changed the bulb in the hot tub, and the light from the bulb gave her a sunburn on her eyes. They’ll heal fine, and in a couple of days the bandages will come off.”

  “What about her hand?” Delaney asked.

  “She broke two of her fingers,” Alex explained. “Just like I cracked my knuckles a few weeks back. They’ll heal, too,” he assured them, holding up his still taped but usable right hand.

  “She’ll be okay?” Delaney’s chin quivered.

  Alex gathered both of his babies into his embrace.

  “She’ll be just fine,” he promised.

  “I—I want to start calling her Mom,” Delaney whispered.

  Alex squeezed his eyes shut and squeezed his kids. “Then call her Mom,” he agreed. “And both of you can help make her recovery easier these next few days.”

  “How?” Tucker asked, his head popping up.

  “By fetching things for her, reading to her, helping her get around. And she won’t be able to do any chores for a while, so you can help with those.” He gave each child a knowing look. “I don’t think she’s going to like not being able to work, do you? Sarah’s not used to sitting back and letting people wait on her, so we need to make sure she enjoys the experience.”

  Each of his very astute children gave Alex a conspirator’s wink. Tucker’s wink was with both eyes, but he got his point across.

  “And you can start by helping me get dinner on the table. Then, after supper, Tuck, you can read Sarah a story, and Delaney, you can help her get ready for bed.”

  “But if she can’t see,” Delaney said, “what if she has to get up in the night to use the bathroom? I think I should sleep with her tonight.”

  Alex couldn’t have been more proud of his daughter if she’d just discovered a cure for cancer. “That’s a great idea, baby. I know I’ll sleep easier knowing you’ll be there for Sarah.” He kissed the top of her head, then kissed Tucker. “Go wash up and get back here to help me with supper.”

  And on that note, the kitchen experienced a mass exodus, including three men who suddenly remembered they all had something important to do. Alex walked to the fridge, opened the door, and stared at the neatly stacked containers that could be full of anything from leftover lamb from two days ago to venison stew from the day before that.

  Then he saw the hot dogs they hadn’t needed last night and decided they’d make an excellent supper. He pulled out the hot dogs, hesitated, then pulled out the other leftovers. Lamb, venison, and diced hot-dog stew sounded even better—and would require washing only one pot.

  Chapter Eighteen

  S arah woke up to someone softly snoring in bed beside her and remembered after a moment Delaney was sleeping with her. But when she couldn’t figure out why it was so solidly dark in her bedroom, it took a full minute before she remembered her eyes were bandaged. She carefully tested her right knee and found that it hurt to bend it, but most of her muscles were so stiff she didn’t even want to think about moving.

  Lord, she was pathetic. She couldn’t even drive five miles down a private road without smashing into the one vehicle she met. Her only saving grace was that she’d hit a pickup and not a loaded logging truck; she doubted she’d be waking up at all if she had.

  Sarah decided she needed a five-minute pity party before she began the seemingly insurmountable task of facing the day ahead. She must have slept on her injured hand, because her fingers were throbbing like the devil. Her right knee felt as bloated as a watermelon, and her eyes were watering again, though she couldn’t be sure if that was because they had a pound of sand in them or because the thought of being at Alex’s mercy made her want to burst into tears.

  Yup, she was pathetic all right, and she hadn’t even gotten to the baby part of her problems.

  Sarah had immediately taken to Delaney and Tucker when they had arrived on Crag Island and had soundly fallen in love with them over the following months. But she didn’t have a clue how to deal with a newborn baby. She would have to start watching more of the health channel. She’d seen a few of their birthing shows but had always thought they were something she’d pay more attention to someday.

  Well, someday was here.

  Sarah lowered her good hand to her belly and ruined her pity party by breaking into a wide grin. A miracle was happening inside her. It was probably only the size of a raisin right now, but it was definitely her and Alex’s baby.

  So, how did she really feel about the Alex part?

  Well…if she had to share her baby with anyone, Alex Knight was as good a father as Sarah could hope for. It would be part of a wonderful family and be brought up in an interesting, beautiful place. She could raise a baby and run her sporting camps, couldn’t she?

  So why did she have this terrible ache in her chest? She decided it wasn’t dread tightening her chest but…awareness. Maybe even anticipation making her ache with wanting. She yearned to really make love to Alex, with both of them fully aware and enjoying it.

  Sarah moved restlessly. It was going to happen; she had felt his intentions humming through the air when Alex had lifted her onto the fender of her truck and kissed her as if he really meant it, as if he wasn’t kissing a pretty face attached to a fantasy body but kissing her.

  “Do you have to pee?” Delaney asked over a yawn.

  “I guess I do,” Sarah said with a smile. “Is the sun up? What time is it?”

  The mattress moved. “Six-thirty,” Delaney said. Another layer of blankets landed on Sarah when her nursemaid got out of bed. “And it’s snowing again. I hear Daddy in the kitchen already. I’ll help you get dressed before I go upstairs and get ready for school.”

  “I love you, Delaney,” Sarah whispered. “Thank you for sleeping with me.”

  Her declaration was met with silence. “Can I call you Mom, Sarah?” Delaney whispered, her voice uncertain.

  Sarah felt her eyes fill with tears again. “You sure can, sweetie,” she said thickly. “I’d like that.”

  “I know your marrying Daddy wasn’t real,” Delaney said. “But even if you do get divorced, you’ll still be my mom. Right?”

  “That’s right,” Sarah softly agreed. “Your dad can’t dispute the adoption without getting your grandfather in trouble.”

  That was another mess they’d eventually have to straighten out, but Sarah had a feeling Delaney was mature enough to handle it. Tucker wouldn’t be quite so understanding. What a mess they’d made for the kids.

  “Then come on, Mom,” Delaney said, as Sarah heard her padding around the bed. “Let’s get you up and dressed, so I can get out there and make sure Daddy doesn’t burn the toast. It’s a wonder any of us survived between housekeepers over the years.”

  Sarah chuckled softly but quickly frowned when she realized it wasn’t toast she smelled burnin
g but—oh, Lord—she smelled onions scorching over high heat. What was Alex cooking?

  It took some doing, and no small amount of effort not to curse, but Sarah made it into the bathroom by leaning on Delaney, washed herself up, then hobbled back to the bedroom, again using Delaney for a crutch. She was ready to scream by the time they finally got her dressed and she hobbled into the kitchen.

  She was suddenly swept off her feet and carried over to a chair at the table. “Good morning, Sunshine,” Alex said as he set her in the chair. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  “Probably better than my frying pan,” she shot back. “It will have to soak in baking soda for a week to get rid of that onion taste.”

  “Uh-oh, somebody needs a happy pill,” he said with a laugh, and a tiny pill was suddenly pressed to her lips and a glass placed in her good hand. “Delaney, can you get Tuck up and dressed?”

  “Maybe I should take the day off from school,” Delaney said. “And stay and help you take care of Sa—Mom.”

  “Other than having socks duct-taped over your hands, you and Tucker survived my nursing when you got poison ivy,” Alex said cheerily. “I think I can handle Sarah.”

  But could she handle him? Sarah wondered, quickly washing down her pill, setting her glass on the table so she could cross her good fingers on her lap. Please, please let Delaney stay home, she silently begged. But Sarah heard the great-room door swoosh and knew her fate was sealed. She was doomed to spend the day at the mercy of a much too eager nursemaid.

  The door swooshed again, and the kitchen started filling up, Ethan and Paul and Grady alternating between showing their concern and making jokes about her looking like an alien from outer space. But she was a sweet alien, Grady assured her, just before he gave her hell for changing the bulb in the hot tub.

  The joking didn’t stop until Tucker came running into the kitchen with a bang, rushing up and hugging Sarah so hard she squeaked. “I wanted to sleep with you, too,” he said, as Sarah felt his small hand touch her bandaged eyes. “Do they hurt?” he whispered, overloud. “What’s it like not to see?”

  “It’s very frustrating,” Sarah told him, groping to find his cheek to give him a pat. “Can you bring me one of the sticks we found that the beavers had stripped, Tucker, so I can use it to feel my way around?”

  “Never mind, Tuck,” Alex said from someplace near the stove. “She can’t walk, so she doesn’t need to feel anything.”

  “How are you going to write?” Tucker asked. Sarah felt him touch her bandaged right hand. “You can’t hold a pencil.”

  “I’m left-handed, just like your daddy,” she told him. “Not that it matters, if I can’t see.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought about that. Are they going to peel?”

  “What?”

  “Daddy said you sunburned your eyeballs. Are they going to peel like my arms did when I got sunburned?”

  “They won’t peel, Tuck,” Alex said with a chuckle, this time from beside the table. “Sit down and eat, so you don’t miss the bus.”

  And so it went for the next half-hour, teasing conversation intermingled with speculations about what they were eating. From the taste of it, Sarah guessed Alex had made cheese and mushroom omelets laced with burnt onions, to complement the burnt toast. When the kitchen emptied, the men going to work and the children rushing out to the bus honking its horn in the driveway, a sudden silence settled over the kitchen like a lead weight.

  “Has your pain pill kicked in?” Alex asked, apparently near the sink.

  “It must have, because my taste buds are numb.”

  “Uh-oh,” he said from right beside her. “We’re in for a long day if you’re going to take pot shots at my cooking.”

  “That wasn’t cooking,” she pot-shot back. “That was murdered food forced on defenseless peop—” She yelped when she was suddenly picked up again. “Cut that out,” she snapped at where she thought his face was. “You have to warn me first.”

  “But where’s the fun in that?” he asked, kicking the swinging door open to carry her into the great room.

  “You sit and listen to videos while I clean up, then we’ll head over to your sporting camps.”

  “What? Why?”

  “So I can have a look around. I haven’t been there in almost a year, and I’ve never really looked to see what condition the place is in.”

  “But there’s at least two feet of snow on the road leading into those camps.”

  “I’ll plow my way in. The road should be opened anyway, in case of fire.” Sarah sensed him leaning down close to her. “Are you still determined to open the camps, even with a baby on the way?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I can still run them with a baby.”

  “Then we should find out what kind of money it’s going to take to get them up and running, don’t you think?” he asked, his mouth still close.

  “G-Grady said they were in fair shape.”

  The air in front of her suddenly felt empty. “It doesn’t matter what Grady thinks,” Alex said from someplace above her. “Ethan and Paul have given me final say on whether you open the camps or not.” He was just as suddenly right back in her face. “And if you even hint that I’m expecting something in exchange for letting you open those camps, I will make Roland and Martha Banks look like saints. Understand?” he finished in a growl, his breath all but setting her cheeks on fire.

  Sarah mutely nodded.

  “That’s a smart girl,” he whispered, his lips touching hers briefly—and then the air was suddenly empty again, the television coming on with the twang of country music.

  Holy smokes, what had that been about?

  Sarah sucked in her breath. He thought she would actually consider sleeping with him to open her camps?

  How would he put it? Oh, yeah. Hell would be covered in three feet of snow before she ever went anywhere near his bed!

  Alex smiled openly, since Sarah couldn’t see him. He’d never met anyone so easy to rile, nor had he ever seen anyone looking so pathetically outraged. He broadened his grin when Sarah started picking at her bandaged hand as she scowled at nothing, before he quietly turned and walked back to the kitchen. As much as he hated to see Sarah hurt, he was not about to waste an opportunity to get past her defenses and back into her bed.

  Alex knew how easy it was for a person, especially someone disillusioned by life, to become overbusy taking care of everyone else, because it was so much safer than having to deal with her own shattered dreams. Hadn’t his kids become his whole world after Charlotte had left? But today Sarah’s injuries would force her to sit blindly in the main lodge of her sporting camps, with nothing to do but focus on her past tribulations, her present situation, and her future.

  If she wanted to eat, she would have to trust Alex to feed her, and if she wanted to get from point A to point B, she’d have to trust him to carry her. And if Sarah finally wanted to be the heroine of her own story, she would have to drop her defenses long enough for Alex to prove that she could trust him with her heart.

  Hoping desperately that his plan would work, Alex threw on his jacket, went outside, and started loading the bed of the plow truck with enough firewood to warm up at least the main room of the sporting lodge. Whether it took half a cord of wood or half a dozen cords, he wasn’t bringing Sarah back home until she was ready to put his wedding band on her finger for real.

  As soon as he finished with the firewood, Alex went back to the house and quietly peeked into the great room to find Sarah still sitting, still scowling, and still mad as a wet hen. Mad was good; it was a hell of a lot better than wary.

  Alex headed to the pantry, found a large bin, and started loading it with food. He spotted a bottle of wine on the top shelf and grabbed it, blew off the dust, and set it in the bin. But then he remembered Sarah was pregnant and shouldn’t have wine, so he grabbed one of the bottles of sparkling grape juice instead before carrying his load out to the truck. He went back into the house and into the great r
oom, asking how she was doing as he walked to the stairs. Without stopping long enough to hear her reply, he ran upstairs and stripped off his bedding, rolling it up and setting it in the hall. He went into the bathroom next and stuffed towels and toiletries into a pillow case.

  He made another trip out to the truck with his cache, then came back inside and into Sarah’s room to grab some of her clothes. He opened the top drawer of her bureau to find her undies and noticed the tiny box that held the wedding band he’d given her. He picked it up and was stuffing it into a pillow case when he suddenly heard a bell tinkling.

  Why in hell was a bell ringing?

  Then he remembered the bell Sarah had set on the coffee table for him to call her when he’d been laid up. Not that he’d used it, when shouting had gotten him a much more interesting response.

  “You rang, madam?” he drawled, walking into the great room.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. “It doesn’t sound like you’re cleaning the kitchen.”

  “You’re one of those micro-managers, aren’t you?” he said to avoid answering her. “You’re going to need a staff to run your camps, but you won’t keep anyone more than a month if you start micro-managing them. Especially the guides. They’re independent people who don’t like being bossed around. That’s why they’re guides.”

  “I can handle a staff. It’s you I’m worried about. You forgot to put salve in my eyes and change the bandages.” She held out her good hand. “Just give me the salve. I can do it myself.”

  “But you can’t put on new bandages by yourself. Your right hand is one big ball of gauze.”

  She dropped her good hand and went back to scowling.

  “I’ll put your salve on before we leave,” he said, going back to packing the truck, again smiling openly.

  In twenty minutes, he was down to just Sarah’s medicines left to load, as well as Sarah herself. Alex breezed into the great room, shut off the TV, and walked over and found her lying on the couch, softly snoring. He’d be inclined to sleep, too, if he couldn’t even see his own nose.