Nate (The Rock Creek Six)

by Handeland, Lori

  "Mary!" Jo cried. "You promised."

  "I agreed not to kill him. I said nothing about punching."

  Nate managed to catch his breath and straighten. From the look in Mary's eyes, he was very lucky she hadn't aimed a might lower. He'd be on the floor writhing.

  "I see she told you."

  Mary sniffed.

  "I'd appreciate it if you kept this to yourself a while," Nate said.

  "So you can disappear before Reese and the others find out?"

  "If I'd planned that, I'd be gone already. I'm thinking of Jo."

  "Somehow I doubt that."

  He deserved her scorn. Just because he'd been unaware of what he was doing did not make what he'd done forgivable. "If we get married right away, no one in town will know anything untoward happened."

  "Folks can count, Nate." Jo's voice was still weak. Her pale face made his gut ache, right where Mary had hit him. He had done this to her. It seemed to be what he did best.

  "Maybe they can count and maybe they can't. But they'll never be sure. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, Jo. One word out of line and they'll have to deal with me."

  Mary touched his arm, and Nate tensed, expecting her to twist it behind his back or worse. Instead she murmured, "I'm sorry I hit you," before she slipped out.

  For the first time in a very long time, Nate was taking responsibility for something other than himself. Hell, to be honest, he hadn't taken responsibility for himself in far too long. While the burden should have sent him searching for a bottle, Nate discovered he felt stronger than he had in years.

  "I thought you said it wasn't the right time."

  "Folks can count—" Her attempt to smile fell far short of the mark. "But it appears I can't."

  "We're getting married."

  "I told you no once already."

  "I'm not asking this time. We'll do what's best for you and the baby."

  She sighed and nodded. He'd hoped for a little more excitement; then again, he wasn't much of a prize.

  "I won't let anyone hurt you ever again. You're mine now."

  "Maybe that's what scares me."

  "Which makes you smart, Just Jo, but I always knew you were."

  Chapter 14

  "Marriage is a solemn commitment, pledged for a lifetime. Partnership, love, children—these gifts you can expect and many more."

  The preacher droned on and on. Jo, not fully recovered despite thrice daily dosings of oat tea, had a difficult time keeping her mind on his words. Spring had shifted to summer with a vengeance, turning the small Webberville church where she and Nate took their vows into an oven.

  She glanced at him. Nate had been taking care of her night and day. No one else ever had. If she wasn't already crazy in love with him, his devotion would have won her heart. His height, his breadth, his bold demeanor protected her. His gentle touch seduced her. She wished he was touching her right now. Touching her and a whole lot more.

  Her cheeks colored. How could she feel such things in the center of a church? How could she desire him in the midst of their wedding?

  "Josephine Emma Clancy, do you take Nathan Alexander Lang to be your husband?"

  "I do."

  The preacher frowned. "I wasn't finished. There are several situations to list."

  "Why? Either I take him or I don't." She met Nate's eyes and took his hand. "And I do," she promised. "In any situation."

  His smile held more joy than she'd seen on his face in a long time. Maybe everything would be all right. Maybe they could make the marriage work. Maybe he could learn to love her as she loved him and with their child they could make a family.

  Maybe.

  "Do you Nathan Alexander Lang—"

  "Yep."

  The preacher scowled. "You don't know what I'm going to ask."

  "I do, and the answer is yes." Nate squeezed her fingers and returned his attention to the preacher. "Go on."

  "The ring?"

  Nate's hand jerked in Jo's. The expression of dismay on his face made her fumble hurriedly in the pocket of her gown.

  "Here." Jo drew out the gold wedding band. Scarcely worn, it glittered gaily in the fading afternoon light. She pressed the ring into Nate's palm. "This was my mother's."

  He smiled, sadly now. "What would I do without you?"

  "Panic?"

  "Definitely." He slipped the band onto her finger. With a frown, he looked into her eyes. "It fits perfectly."

  "I know."

  What passed between them in that moment was abiding, true, and stunning. Jo could barely breathe past the wonder.

  The preacher broke the magic when he began to exhort them to any number of things.

  "Finish up," Nate interrupted. "She needs some air, and so do I."

  The preacher sputtered, but another long stare from Nate had him pronouncing them man and wife in a hurry. Nate had that effect on people. Even more so now that he was sober.

  The few days they'd remained in Rock Creek while Jo regained her strength had shown a vast improvement in him, as well. He'd shaved and trimmed his hair, which had grown in time with hers. It now reached the top of his ears.

  In trying to coax her to eat, he'd eaten, too. He wasn't half as pale as she was, and his cheeks were a whole lot less gaunt. In his dark suit and white shirt, he looked respectable, not dissolute, and handsomer than ever to Jo's loving eyes.

  Of course she must look a wreck, but Nate had never cared much for appearances, and neither had Jo. Still, she would have liked to get married in a dress that didn't hang on her, with flowers in her hair and her hands, but she'd make do with what she had—Nate's promise and her mother's wedding band.

  "—kiss the bride," the preacher intoned.

  Before Jo could catch up with what she'd missed, Nate's lips brushed hers and were gone. A chaste, brotherly kiss that had even the preacher frowning.

  Nate saw her as a friend, nothing more. They were marrying for the child. Her hope of being loved was just that. She should be used to the disappointment by now, but she wasn't.

  Still, solid relationships had been built on less than friendship. In Jo's world, she'd seen marriages based on pure love and devotion turn mean and nasty. There were no guarantees.

  After taking care of the legalities and the monstrous payment, they thanked the preacher and his wife, who had witnessed the ceremony, then stepped onto the bustling streets of Webberville.

  Figuring they'd start back immediately, Jo was surprised when Nate stopped the wagon they'd rented in front of the hotel. He jumped down and held up his arms to help her.

  She hesitated. "Shouldn't we get home?"

  "We'll stay here tonight. You're tired."

  "I'll be fine. I'm stronger than I look."

  "You're stronger than anyone looks, Just Jo. But tonight we sleep in a bed."

  We?

  Seduced by the promise of a single word, Jo let him lift her to the ground, and together they went into the hotel.

  Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Lang, he wrote in the register. Jo was so enthralled with the words she barely noticed how his hands shook as he wrote them.

  In short order, the clerk left them in their room. The door shut and they were alone.

  On their wedding night.

  Restless, Nate wandered about, touching the furniture, avoiding the bed, peering out the window, as he removed his coat and tie. Uncertain, Jo hovered near the door.

  "I know that wasn't exactly the kind of wedding a young girl dreams of, and I'm sorry for it."

  Jo said nothing. Nate had no idea what she dreamed of. Thank God.

  "I'll do my best to take care of you. But I'm no bargain. At least you know that." He lifted then lowered one shoulder. "Better than anyone, probably. If you ever want out, all you have to do is ask, and I'll be gone."

  Not even married an hour and already he spoke of leaving. Jo sighed. Words of love would only make him run, even if she could manage them. What should she do to convince him she would always want him to stay?
/>   She could love him without the words, show him how she felt with her body in his bed, give him a child and the rest of her life.

  When Nate continued to stare out the window, Jo crossed the room and slipped her arms around his middle, then laid her cheek against his back. He was solid, strong, warm, and she adored him. "No one ever took care of me the way you do."

  He snorted. "Oh, I took care of you real well. I got you pregnant. I'm sorry, Jo."

  "I'm not."

  He turned in her arms. "What?"

  Her hands on his waist so he wouldn't slip away, she gazed into his confused face. "Though this baby was conceived in despair and confusion, it's a gift, Nate. One I never thought I'd have, and I thank you for it."

  "You're crazy."

  "Maybe I am."

  She laid her head against his chest this time, listened to the steady rhythm of his heart. A few beats later, his arms encircled and held her, held them. The emotions she felt in that single moment were the strongest and most pure she had ever felt in her life.

  Maybe a marriage based on friendship wouldn't be so bad. They'd have time to talk, time to learn about each other. As they watched their child grow within her, experienced the mysteries together—

  Jo broke off that thought as another took its place: What better proof of God's existence could there be than the miracle of a child?

  She smiled to herself and cuddled closer to Nate as peace brushed away her lingering panic. This baby would be the answer to her prayers in more ways than one.

  * * *

  Jo continued to snuggle against him, her hair skimming his throat, her breasts brushing his chest. He tried not to think about the swell of her rear pushing into the palms of his hands.

  She needed to be held, not pawed, cuddled, not poked. But if she got any closer, she was going to feel just how little his body cared about what she needed.

  When had what he felt for her turned lustful? Or had the desire always been there, drowned by alcohol, buried by shame? He could bed some women and not feel an ounce of guilt because he wasn't betraying the memory of Angela with them, he was satisfying an itch.

  But the itch turned into a full-blown hunger as he held Jo in his arms. In another instant he might lose his last speck of self-control, pick her up and dump her on the bed, then follow her down.

  He had to avoid doing such a thing at all costs. Jo carried his child, which brought back too many memories of another woman who had, as well.

  Damn, he needed a drink.

  When Jo bumped against the part of him that really didn't need to be bumped right now, he drew in a sharp, hissing breath and she froze, still pressed against him.

  Expecting her to back away, horrified he would want her in her condition, he nearly swallowed his tongue when she arched her back and purred like a cat. The still flat expanse of her belly pressed upon him, and all thoughts of a drink disappeared in a reddish haze of lust.

  His hands had a will of their own, cupping her full rear and pulling her higher and tighter against him. She gasped and he stilled, but instead of pushing him away, she turned her head and lifted her lips to the hollow of his throat.

  Afraid she was hiding her face, letting him do what he wished because they were married, he was shocked when she ran her tongue along his collarbone, then sucked a bit of his skin into her mouth. The sensation shot to his groin, and he nearly humiliated himself right there and then. He'd never had a problem of that kind before. He had a reputation for lasting all night. Was it Jo who made him react differently, or that he was sober for the first time in too many years to count?

  "Nate?"

  She sounded odd—breathless, perhaps frightened—and he realized he held her so tightly she could not move, pulsing against her, desperate, heedless of how uncomfortable she was. He released her too quickly and only ended up hauling her back into his arms so she would not fall.

  Terrified he'd hurt her, mortified by the state of his arousal, he kissed her brow. "I'm sorry, Jo. So damn sorry."

  She pulled back, confusion flickering across her face. "About what?"

  "Pawing you like you're a dance hall girl when you're my wife."

  The last word made his stomach dance. With anticipation or guilt? He wasn't sure. What did it matter? She was his pregnant wife, which meant he would take care of her and nothing else.

  Jo extricated herself from his embrace. He'd known it was coming, yet still he felt bereft. But before he could make an excuse and head for the door, she took his hand. "Come to bed, Nate."

  "I'm not tired."

  "I didn't plan on sleeping."

  His mouth fell open. She smiled. "It's our wedding night, and it looks like you want the same thing I do."

  "You do?"

  She squeezed his hand. "I do."

  Nate was reminded of the ceremony that had bound them together legally as well as morally. But nothing bound them together more tightly than the child they had created.

  He shuddered. He was so damn scared he ached with it. He'd ruined too many lives already. He didn't want to ruin two more.

  Jo raised herself on tiptoe and pressed her mouth to his. If the kiss was meant to comfort, she failed miserably, because his body tightened like the string on a fiddle. If she plucked him he'd no doubt hum too.

  Cradling his face with her hands, she drew him downward, then kissed him deeper. Her tongue tasted him, teased and tormented. She suckled on his lower lip.

  Shocked, he pulled away. "Where did you learn that?"

  "I wonder." Her mouth wet from his, she smiled—seduction in a very small package. "I've never kissed anyone but you, Nate."

  Why on earth he found that so damn arousing, Nate wasn't sure. But there it was.

  "I don't think this is a good idea." He tried to inch for the door.

  She blocked his way. "I do."

  The words reminded him of how their relationship had changed again. He was having a hard time keeping up.

  "We're married." She stepped so close the bell of her skirt tangled around his boots. "I can't get any more pregnant than I already am." She took his hand and raised it to her lips, then pressed the same open mouthed kiss to his palm that she'd pressed to his mouth. "And I want you."

  "Jo," he groaned and tugged. She wouldn't let go. "You're killing me."

  "Why are you fighting what you feel? There's nothing wrong in our sharing that bed, tonight and every night from now on."

  "But the baby—"

  "You know as well as I do we won't hurt the baby. Not this early."

  Nate frowned. He didn't know any such thing. Angela had always put a stop to marital relations the instant she learned she was carrying.

  Nate wasn't a doctor. He had delivered babies, mostly out of necessity. But his primary medical knowledge came from taking out bullets and stitching up knife wounds, then dealing with the aftermath of lead and steel piercing flesh.

  "You're sure?" he asked.

  "Quite." She placed his hand on her hip and of their own volition his fingers curled, tugging her closer. "I've been thinking about the one night we shared, Nate, every night. I want to know more about sex, and I want to learn it from you."

  She didn't mention love, and he appreciated that. Though what they shared was more than sex. "But, Jo, I don't remember any of that night—"

  "So let's share a night you do remember."

  He cupped her cheek. She turned her face into his hand. "I don't want to hurt you."

  "Then don't."

  "It's not that simple. I'm not drinking now, but I can't say I never will again. I can't promise to love you, but I care about you, and I'll protect you as best I can."

  "I understand." Despite her words, a flicker of hurt darkened her eyes.

  "Sex will only complicate things."

  "I doubt things can get more complicated than they already are. We're going to share a child, a name, and a home. Is it wrong for me to want to share some memories, too?"

  Nate didn't know what to say. His
body was screaming so loudly for him to agree he could barely hear the whisper of reason that pointed out repeated sex bound people together, which was why he'd never had sex with one woman too many times. Not just for their sake, but his own.

  He was bound to Jo by more than sex, so what was the point in keeping his distance now? If he'd planned on listening to his conscience, he should have done so in Soledad. Unfortunately, his conscience had been pickled in alcohol and silent as a grave.

  Even though Nate had promised Jo forever only hours ago, forever was a myth. Sooner or later she'd see she was better off without him. Until then, he'd do his best to make her happy. He owed her that and so much more.

  Jo tried to pull away. "I'm asking too much of you."

  "No!" He held on tight. He would not hurt her any more if he could help it. "You've always asked far too little of me. It's time you got what you deserved."

  "What would that be?"

  Nate picked her up and crossed to the bed. Setting her gently on the top, he followed her down. "Everything you've ever dreamed of, Mrs. Lang. If it's in my power to give it to you, I will."

  The sparkle of hope in her eyes made age-old fears revive. She deserved so much more than he could ever give.

  "Lately I've been dreaming of you, Mr. Lang." She began to unbutton his shirt. "You and me in a bed just like this for a long, long time. Can you give me that?"

  His body leaped in response. "I think I can manage."

  She pulled his mouth to hers. "I kind of figured you might."

  * * *

  Jo held her breath. Despite her bold words, she was still afraid Nate would leap from the bed and leave her alone. She wanted him so badly she could hardly think beyond the desire pounding in her blood, the love filling her heart, and the images of bodies entwined that haunted her in both the day and the night.

  But he didn't pull away. He no longer seemed ready to run. Instead he sighed, closed his eyes, and kissed her. Gently, almost reverently, he gave her the sweetest embrace she'd ever known.

  His lips, soft and warm, played over hers. He nibbled then traced her mouth with his tongue. She shivered with delight as familiar sensations became new in the knowledge that Nate touched her; Nate wanted her.