Who Brings Forth the Wind

by Lori Wick

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  through. Stacy still loved her husband, but she was having]

  hard time forgetting that he thought she'd had another man*

  child. With this in mind, she found it hard to believe that hu

  desired her at all. Even if he did, would it last? Or would hcl

  grow angry again and push her away at a moment's notice. t "Doesn't the idea appeal to you?" Tanner asked, having1 carefully watched Stacy's face.

  "It's not that."

  "What is it?"

  Tanner's tone had become slightly impatient, and Stacy

  wished she'd kept her mouth closed.

  "I asked you a question, Anastasia."

  "You've made it quite clear that you desire me, Tanner, but

  I doubt if desire is enough to build a marriage on."

  "Meaning?" He was angry now, and Stacy's stomach

  churned.

  "Meaning that as soon as you think I've betrayed you again,

  I'll be sent away once more."

  It was the worst thing she could have said. Tanner was so

  furious his face pushed.

  "You make it sound as though I imagined the events at the

  Cradwells'."

  Stacy couldn't answer.

  "I was there, Stacy." Tanner now stood, his voice tight with

  rage. "I saw Lord Stanley's hands on you." He stopped and

  tried to control himself before going on in a cold voice. "I

  think you might be right. Whatever is left between us is

  probably not enough to work with."

  He had left the room then, and after a moment Stacy

  herself had gotten slowly to her feet.

  Now Stacy lay and tried to think of how she could have

  handled the evening differently. After just moments she realized

  that it would have happened no matter what. Maybe her

  comments had brought it on a few weeks early, but there was

  no way that this arrangement was going to last. Tanner still

  carried too much bitterness over something he wasn't even

  willing to discuss.

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  Knowing she was not going to sleep, Stacy rose and deed

  she would start her packing. She lit a lantern and moved

  ound the room collecting things, not bothering to put on

  r wrapper. The maid Price had sent to do her unpacking had

  Idone a wonderful job of laying her things out and making

  _ srything feel "homey," but now Stacy was forced to search I every drawer and surface for her belongings.

  She had worked along steadily for close to an hour when

  , her bedroom door opened. Stacy was startled by the intrusion

  and then alarmed when Tanner came through the portal. He

  was still wearing his dinner slacks. His white shirt, now without

  the tie, was open at the throat.

  Without a word, he moved to Stacy. She wanted to step

  away from him and the intensity in his eyes, but she was too

  stunned to move. For all Tanner's severity, his touch, when he

  finally stopped before her, was extremely gentle. He reached

  for and grasped her upper arms, pulled her close and then

  bent to kiss her.

  Stacy was so unprepared that she didn't at first react.

  Tanner's kisses were a homage to her loveliness, and within

  just seconds he'd made her feel like the cherished wife of old

  Stacy was so confused she couldn't think. At last he raised his

  head and spoke. His voice was gentle.

  "You're not leaving Winslow, Stacy. You're my wife, and I

  want you here. If I said something that intimated otherwise,

  disregard it."

  Tanner glanced around the room, already having summed

  up the situation.

  "Do not put all of these things away tonight. Go back to

  bed; someone will see to them in the morning."

  Stacy opened her mouth to speak, but Tanner went on.

  "Do as I tell you. You look too tired and thin for my liking.

  Now into bed and sleep."

  Stacy could hardly believe it when he turned her and gave

  her a small push toward the bed. She climbed beneath the

  covers. As she lay on her back, Tanner bent over her.

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  "Go to sleep," he said one last time and kissed Stacy a^

  He turned the lantern down, and in the remaining glow St

  watched him leave. She fell asleep as she was asking God wh

  she was going to do with this man who so confounded h

  Tanner finally sought his bed. He'd been in the study

  earlier when Price came in. It was quite late, and Tanner,

  surprised to see him still up, had told him to go to bed. But

  Price had not come to serve his lord.

  "There is a light burning in Lady Richardson's room, my

  lord. Would you like me to send a maid to her or check on her

  myself?"

  Tanner had not immediately told Price that he would

  check on Lady Richardson himself; there was suddenly too

  much on his mind. The very fact that Price would ask him such

  a thing spoke volumes. No one it seemed, least of all the staff,

  knew Stacy's status at Winslow. Oh, she was the duchess; that

  was clear But he saw for the first time that they didn't know

  what to do with her.

  It suddenly became apparent that this had to do with the

  boy. He had told Stacy, in so many words, to keep the child out

  of his way. She had taken him a little too literally. He'd been

  half hoping to see the child up close at some point, but Stacy,

  fearing it would cause a disturbance, wasn't going to let that

  happen. He saw then that he was going to have to go to them

  in order to prove to her that he would not harm the boy.

  Their conversation over dinner came back to him at that

  point. He hadn't meant to mention their separate bedrooms,

  nor had he anticipated Stacy's fearful response when he did.

  When he'd calmed down, her reaction made perfect sense.

  As Tanner settled the bed covers around him he reached

  for the empty side of the bed and simply let his arm lie. She

  had actually intimated that she'd been innocent at the Crad-well

  party. Tanner didn't believe that for a moment, but maybe

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  [had overreacted three years ago. She had seemed sorry for

  actions, and Leslie never had been. Stacy had acted as if

  wanted to stay; Leslie had been happier when he was

  lies away.

  Tanner didn't sleep for many hours that night. He was too

  plotting how he would romance and woo his wife. He

  ld himself that she didn't deserve it, but if that was the way it jail to be, he would at least give it a try. His only regret at this

  int was that he was probably going to have to befriend the

  y to do it.

  "Now, this shoe is an island, so you must sail your ship far

  around it, Drew."

  Stacy and her young son were on the floor of her sitting

  room two nights later. Drew's face was still flushed from his

  bath, and he was all ready for bed. Since it was still a bit early,

  he and his mother were playing "boats" with several of Stacy's

  shoes.

  "This is the pirate boat, Mumma. It's coming to get you."

  "I'm going to sail away, Captain Drew. You can't catch me."

  Drew let out a shriek of laughter and jumped up to move

  one of the other shoes.

  "This is a pirate too," he cried. "I've got you. You have no


  cannon and I--" Drew abruptly halted, and Stacy looked at

  him. He was staring at something behind her. He then moved

  quite close to where she was half-lying on the floor. Stacy's

  heart began to pound even before she sat up and turned to see

  Tanner.

  What she saw nearly broke her heart. All color had

  drained from Tanner's face, and his eyes were locked on Drew.

  He moved to sit in the nearest chair, one by the door, without

  even looking at it.

  "Mumma?" Drew whispered softly to his mother. It was

  just what Stacy needed to open her mouth.

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  "Drew, this is Lord Richardson."

  "Richardson?" He was too bright not to recognize the

  name.

  "Yes. He's letting us stay here at Winslow. Please go and

  introduce yourself."

  Drew scrambled immediately to his feet and went to stand

  before Tanner.

  "Hello, sir," he bowed from the waist. "I'm Drew--"

  "Andrew," his mother started him again."

  "Andrew Tanner Richardson."

  With that, Drew put his small hand out, and Tanner, in a

  near state of shock, shook it.

  "You're tall," Drew said when he regained his hand.

  "Yes." Tanner's gaze had softened, and Drew's fascination

  with this tall stranger bubbled to the surface.

  "Mumma is tall."

  "Yes, she is."

  "Are you taller than Mumma?"

  "Yes, I am."

  "I might be tall."

  "Yes, I think you might be."

  "Grandpapa was tall. He's in heaven."

  Tanner had no reply to this, but he was content just to sit

  and stare into Drew's captivating little face.

  "Drew," his mother called to him after just a moment. "It's

  bedtime now."

  As if on cue, Hettie came to the door.

  "Go with Hettie, and I'll come and kiss you later."

  Drew threw his arms around his mother and kissed her

  exuberantly. Stacy cuddled him close for as long as she dared

  before releasing him to go with Hettie. He was nearly to the

  door when she called his name.

  "Andrew."

  "Oh," the little boy stopped, facing the large man in the

  chair. "Thank you for meeting me, sir. Goodnight, sir."

  Stacy was so proud of him she could have sung. When the

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  door closed, however, and she found herself alone with Tanner,

  she couldn't remain on the floor. She rose and gathered

  the shoes they'd been playing with, returning them to her

  dressing room. When she came back into the sitting room,

  Tanner was just as she'd left him.

  Stacy couldn't quite bring herself to look at his face, so she

  took a seat on the sofa, taking some time to adjust her skirt

  before she looked into his eyes. To her utter relief he was not

  angry.

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  Stacy took a breath. "After all that has passed between us,

  I wasn't sure you would believe me." She paused and then

  went on with her eyes in her lap. "And in truth, I wanted you to

  want me back for me."

  Nothing had ever rocked Tanner's world the way events of

  the last ten minutes had, and for Tanner Richardson, that was

  saying quite a bit. He had a son. A son! He was a man who had

  believed he could never help create a child, and here he had a

  beautiful boy who sported his high cheekbones and dark

  brown eyes. Except for Stacy's straight, thick, honey-blonde

  hair that fell so perfectly across his forehead, Drew looked just

  like his own childhood portraits.

  "He's a fine boy," Tanner managed at last. "You've done a

  good job with him."

  "He is a good boy," Stacy agreed, now able to look up at her

  husband.

  "How old is he?"

  "He was three last month, the tenth of April."

  "And you call him Drew?"

  'Yes. It was easier since we were living with my grandfather,

  and now he prefers that to Andrew."

  "You should get him out more," Tanner said, but it was not

  a criticism.

  "I didn't want to do that until you'd met him and seen what

  a well-behaved boy he was. He can be rather rambunctious at

  times, and I didn't want him to disturb you."

  "Winslow is his home; he can go where he likes."

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  Stacy nodded, trying to hide how crushed she felt inside

  with the way he'd said "his home." She tried to push it away

  before she read too much into it and put herself into agony.

  Tanner stood, seeming almost anxious to be away. 'Til

  leave you now. I have some things to do in my study. Goodnight,

  Stacy."

  "Goodnight, Tanner." Stacy said the words automatically,

  uncertain that it was going to be a good night at all.

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  his baby. Again questions swarmed his mind. Had it been

  hard? Had she been sick? Even though she'd been in bed,

  couldn't she have written? Had Drew been a difficult or sickly

  baby? It wouldn't seem so now, but three years was a long time.

  And what would the next three years bring? This was the

  last question Tanner allowed himself to ask, because he

  couldn't stand not having answers.

  Tanner locked the door of his study before turning the

  lamps high and moving to the safe. He spun the dial effortlessly

  and in moments the door swung open. However, his

  hand shook when he looked inside and reached for a thick

  bundle of papers. A moment later he sat at his desk, every

  letter Stacy had written placed in front of him.

  When the letters first arrived he had never read them; not

  for months did he even open them. Price would always

  announce that one had arrived, but Tanner would tell him he

  didn't want to see it.

  Then about six months after Stacy left, the letters stopped.

  Tanner didn't know what to think. He questioned Price. To his

  relief the faithful servant had saved every bit of her correspondence.

  Tanner had read through them all in an evening and

  then sat in agony when it seemed that she would write no

  more.

  What if she's dead? he'd asked himself. He had said he

  didn't care, but he was lying to himself. This and many more

  questions had tormented his confused mind for two weeks.

  Then a letter arrived. She hadn't missed a single week after

  that, and Tanner read each one as it arrived.

  Now he carefully looked at the date of each letter. It only

  took a few minutes to see how the dates matched. Stacy had

  not written those two weeks in April because she was having

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  G%Mt~(i//iMe

  after dressing the next morning, Stacy went in search of

  Drew. He usually came to her while she was still in bed. Stacy

  wondered this morning if he wasn't sleeping in. She was met

  by a disapproving and worried Hettie, who said that the duke

  had come for her son just moments earlier.

  "Didn't even ask--just told him to come and of course

  Drew followed like he'd known him all his life."

  Stacy told herself not to be alarmed, and in truth she

  wasn't, but she did feel curious as to where they might h
ave

  gone. She was on her way down the stairs when she saw Drew

  ahead of her, still in his nightclothes, sliding down the banister

  and giggling with all his might.

  "Andrew Tanner Richardson." Stacy's voice was firm but

  not harsh. "You asked me when we arrived if you could slide

  on this banister, and I said no."

  "Come now, Stacy," Tanner said before the boy could say a

  word. Stacy had gained the foyer but hadn't even seen him as

  he lounged against one wall watching his son's antics. "What's

  the harm?" he went on critically. "You're acting like a silly old

  woman."

  "Silly old woman," Drew echoed, and Stacy turned to her

  son in outrage.

  "AndrewRichardsonl'You will not speak to me in such a

  way or ever call me names. Do you understand?"

  The little boy was crushed. "Yes, Mumma."

  "Go right now and find Hettie so you can get dressed."

  Drew, very subdued, moved to do as he was told. Stacy

  waited until he'd met Hettie at the top of the stairs before

  turning to Tanner. He had pushed away from the wall and now

  stood alert. The betrayal he saw in Stacy's eyes was almost his

  undoing. Her pain-filled voice made it worse.

  "Obedient children do not just happen. They are the

  result of months of hard work. As you can see, Tanner, you can

  undo all of that work in a fraction of that time." Stacy's voice

  caught, but she went on. "You promised not to take him."

  She turned then to run up the stairs, but Tanner caught her

  on the third step. His hands held her waist, but Stacy would

  not turn around.

  "My promise still stands. I won't take him."

  "I wish I could believe you," Stacy admitted. It was easier

  to be honest when he wasn't looking at her.

  "I grew up without a mother, Stacy. I would never separate

  the two of you, not even emotionally, especially now that I'm

  aware."

  Stacy turned then. The difference in their heights was

  removed because Stacy was on a higher step. She looked

  directly into his face as she said, "I didn't know your mother

  died when you were young."

  "She didn't. She just didn't want me."

  Stacy looked into his wonderful, dark eyes and slowly

  shook her head. "How could she not want you?"

  Tanner shrugged. The pain in his eyes was only slight. The

  years had dulled the ache. "She never wanted any of us, not my

  father, my brother, or me. Sometimes I can still hear her

  telling my father she was a fool for having married him and an