by Tia Dani
"Why?"
"Because, I knew before this night was over you'd probably have a hundred more. I figured if you were ready for them, after these five men, it wouldn't be so hard to say no to the others."
"Why would you care whether I said no or not?" She looked at him suspiciously. "You've never cared for my marrying anyone before."
"After our little get-together on the bed this morning. I've decided I like you, Libby, and, if you don't want to get married, then fine. I only wanted to help."
She was quiet for several minutes. A smile appeared, and she shook her hands up and down, causing his to go up and down right along with hers. "That's nice of you, Matthew, thank you. I hadn't thought of what you were doing in this light."
Neither had he, but, at the moment, it seemed to be the right thing to say to get her calmed down. Besides, there was no way in hell he wanted her to know the truth. He couldn't stand seeing her married to anyone. The idea of her in someone else's arms, letting them touch her, knocked the wind out of him. He closed his eyes and inhaled. How had he gotten into this mess?
"You know, Matthew," he heard her say. "I take back what I said earlier. You're not such a creep after all."
Chapter Nineteen
From the moment everyone arrived, they greeted Libby as if they had known her all her life. For once, she truly felt she belonged.
Libby couldn't remember having a better time. The day was filled with games, dancing, and eating. Tim and the other musicians were taking a break at the moment. While they waited for the music to resume, someone suggested relay races. Two teams of men were now trying to fill water barrels using spoons. Not caring which side won, she cheered both teams on.
Even the multitude of proposals which followed throughout the evening didn't faze her, thanks to Matthew's thoughtfulness. It didn't bother her at all to say no to the men. Though, some of the proposals were tempting. Others, like Matthew predicted, were definitely not.
She hadn't seen much of him after she'd helped Katherine and Sarah prepare for the arrival of other guests and set out the mountains of food they brought. Once the dancing started, she was too busy being whirled from one partner to another to have time to think of anything other than keeping her feet clear of stomping boots. She hoped to dance with Matthew, at least once, since they were friends now. Libby searched the room. The last time she saw him, he was helping Getz set up his kegs of beer.
Libby wanted to try the beer to see if it tasted the same as it did in 1966, but she didn't want to be out of place by being the only woman drinking alcohol. After the party was over, if there was any left, she'd try some. On the sly of course.
She noticed her father, Sarah, and James sitting together on a long bench between two open stalls. Sarah was laughing at something Theo said to James.
A man's movement caught her attention. Libby spotted Matthew standing off to the side of the stall, listening to her father talk to James. Beside him was the attractive dark-haired woman he'd been talking to earlier this morning. At the time, she hadn't paid much attention to the woman because she was so frustrated at finding out why Matthew interfered with all her marriage proposals. Earlier she thought the woman stood a little too close to Matthew. She was doing it again. No doubt this female wanted more from Matthew than friendly attention.
Libby frowned, not enjoying the disquiet she was experiencing. If she didn't know better, she'd swear it was annoyance. Why should she be upset over some woman vying for Matthew's attention?
A second later, she decided to make it her business. "Katherine," she said, "who's the woman talking to Matthew?"
Katherine glanced in the direction Libby pointed. "Harriet Wilson. She lives to the north about twenty miles from here. She's a widow. Her husband died of lung disease last February. He left her with five children."
"Five?" Libby glanced at the woman's slender-waist and generously filled bodice. "She sure doesn't look like a woman who's had five children."
"No, she doesn't," Katherine said matter-of-factly, acting not at all concerned over their conversation. "Some women have babies, and their bodies never show it. Unfortunately, mine did, and I had only one child.
Libby nodded. She looked down at her own waist and hips. In a lot of ways, she was built like Katherine.
"Care to dance, Libby?"
Luke's voice came from behind her, and she whirled around. He swayed and sloshed a glass of Getz's beer in his left hand. A wayward lock of his blond hair had fallen down on his forehead, giving him the air of a mischievous boy. Without thinking, Libby reached up and brushed the lock of hair back. "I'm afraid there's no music to dance to, Luke."
He leaned closer. "There's gonna be," he whispered. "Tim's said he's ready to start playing again. I decided to get here first before anyone else can ask you."
In the background, they could hear Tim tuning his violin. Libby smiled at Katherine as she took Luke's arm. "Here we go again."
Katherine groaned and lowered her cup. "I'm not sure if my feet will hold up to much more of this." Before she had a chance to wipe her hands on her apron, several men rushed up, asking her to dance.
Luke set his glass down beside Katherine's cup and twirled Libby into the middle of the dance floor. Laughing at his exuberance, she let him swing her around several times.
Once she stopped spinning, she noticed, out of the corner of her eye, Claude Getz attempting to get Sarah to dance with him. Sarah kept shaking her head and holding her stomach with both of her hands. Getz's manner looked ugly. Before Libby could ask Luke to interfere, she saw her father place a hand on the man's arm. Theo spoke quietly. To Libby's relief, Getz nodded, and both men headed for the beer keg set up in the corner of the barn. So far, one way or another, Claude Getz had been stopped from mistreating Sarah. However, time was running out. They wouldn't be there to protect Sarah when she and her husband left for their farm.
Competing with the stomping feet and yelling voices, Libby said guardedly to Luke, "Have you had a chance to think over what we talked about earlier?"
He nodded, seeming to concentrate on his footwork rather than on their conversation. "Yeah, but I don't know why this is so important to you."
"Because I care about Sarah and her baby. Luke..." She tugged on his hand and pleaded, "Getz has to be stopped."
He started to say something, then closed his mouth. He stopped dancing and pulled her toward the barn's open door.
The late afternoon sun hung close to the horizon as they walked outside. Once they were far enough from the barn, Luke turned her to face him. "I'm not sure I like this, Libby. It's playing God."
"No, it's not." She hesitated then corrected herself. "Okay, maybe in some ways it is, but it's the only option I can see. You know what Getz is like when he gets angry at Sarah. Heaven knows what he's like when he's drunk, too."
Luke's face stiffened with rage. "I'm aware of that. God, it's all I think about. It gets so bad...sometimes...I can't sleep at night."
His outburst frightened Libby. She touched him on the arm.
The high anger in his face drained away. "Sorry, it's the beer."
His words didn't ring true. "Is there something you want to talk about? Something about Sarah?"
He sighed and ran a hand over the back of his neck. "No, nothing. Like I said, it's the beer." He stared through her, and even the twilight couldn't hide the haunted look in his eye. "To tell you the truth," he said finally, "I wish I didn't have to be the one to hit him. Getz has a long memory."
Libby ignored his concern. Her plan had merit, and she'd see it through. "I'll make sure he doesn't remember if you're worried."
"Thanks," he replied dryly, "I feel so much better." Suddenly, he added, "I hope you realize I can't walk up to the man and sock him in the jaw for no reason. People would wonder if I've lost all my senses."
"We'll have to make it look like Getz had it coming. Should be easy."
"How?"
"I don't know. Maybe you could become angry because he w
as rude to Sarah."
Luke shook his head. "He's always rude to her. Everyone knows it. And besides, he's her husband. It's his ri—"
She slapped a hand over his mouth, cutting off the rest of his words. "Don't you dare say it, Luke Abrams."
From the rays of the late afternoon sun, his hazel eyes twinkled. She sighed and removed her hand. "I swear, what is it with you men these days? Don't you have any compassion for a helpless woman at all?"
"I do," he replied, "only it's a bit difficult for someone to interfere with another man's personal business."
Libby sniffed. "A wife is not a man's business."
"I suppose she isn't." He appeared to relent. When she opened her mouth to say something else, he added, "Oh, don't worry, I'll help you, Libby. Sarah Getz is a wonderful woman. She doesn't deserve her husband."
"No one deserves Getz," Libby retorted, "but that's our problem. He's married to Sarah." She gave Luke's arm a sisterly pat, hoping to reassure him. "I may be playing God, in some respects, but it's the only way I know to give Sarah a decent life short of having her husband killed."
Luke physically shuddered. "This better work. I don't relish killing anyone." He grinned suddenly, as if getting some of his usual humor back. His sandy-blond eyebrows wagged up and down. "I'd rather be a lover."
Libby giggled. "I'm sure you would." What a shame he hadn't been born in the 20th century. Luke would have had lots of fun flirting.
Laughter and music floated from the barn reminding her of their purpose for coming outside. "Let's get back now. I'd like to see this finished before it gets too dark."
"All right, but remember, I need an obvious reason for hitting Getz."
Not quite certain how she could get Luke his opportunity, Libby said over her shoulder as she headed for the barn. "I'll find a way, Luke. Stick close to me from now on. When I do think of it, you be ready."
* * *
Disgruntled, Matthew rested his arms on the top railing of the stall and waited for Libby and Luke to return. Since they'd left, he couldn't get them out of his mind. He kept wondering what they were doing. He could have stormed after them, but Luke was his friend. There wasn't anyone more honorable than Luke Abrams when it came to women.
On the other hand, Libby was too trusting. Warning her about the proposals had given him satisfaction. In some ways, he felt responsible for her. He had taken on the job the night she walked in her sleep. And now, especially after what had happened in Luke's bedroom, and after he'd seen another side of her personality, a side he liked very much, he wanted to make sure nothing and no one would ever hurt her. Not even him.
Protecting her came with a price. Every bone in his body ached from wanting to dance with her, to take her in his arms and hold her close. He wanted her next to him as she had been in Luke's large bed. Matthew clenched and unclenched his hands in frustration. He could still feel the warmth of her body against the palms of his hands.
With renewed anguish, he watched Luke and Libby return to the barn. He sensed a new bond between them, one more closer, more intimate. Tension coiled in his body, and his fingers curled around the top railing.
"Matthew, if I would have known you were jealous, I would have stopped long before now."
Harriet Wilson. He blinked and released his strangle hold on the wood. "I beg your pardon?"
Harriet arched a dark eyebrow. "I saw your scowl." She circled the post holding out a full glass of beer. "Here, I thought I might make up for ignoring you by bringing you this."
He wasn't sure what she thought she needed to make up for, but he definitely could use the beer. Matthew accepted the glass and raised it in a toast. "Thanks. Where's Mark?"
"With Mrs. Nunez. She volunteered to keep an eye on him so I could enjoy the dancing."
Matthew nodded and took a long swig of the light-colored beer Getz had brewed several months ago at his farm. The flavor had a subtle tartness, but it was smooth enough to be refreshing. If there was anything Getz could do right, it was brew a true beer.
Once he drained the glass, Matthew immediately searched for Libby. He found her near the stage with her back to him talking with Katherine, Theo, and Sarah. Luke stood beside her, his hand resting on her lower back, almost in a proprietary way. Heat, and something else Matthew had never felt before, flared within him. Suddenly, he knew where her sixth proposal had come from. It had come from Luke. The one man he trusted over all other men.
To his consternation, Joseph joined the small group. Libby said something to him and touched his face. Joseph shook his head and rubbed his stomach. Laughter floated across the room. Whatever Joseph said amused them all. Matthew frowned, feeling a little left out. He didn't enjoy feeling like an outsider, looking in. All of them were more than friends, they were family. Yet, he recognized the exile had been his choice. They weren't responsible for the feeling of aloneness, he was.
"So...I was wrong. It's not me."
Harriet's soft spoken words startled Matthew enough to tear his attention away from the others. He'd forgotten she stood beside him. He smiled down at her. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
A look of sadness crossed her face. "I thought I was the one who had put the scowl on your face, but I see I was mistaken. It's not me you're jealous over, it's her."
"I'm not jealous of Libby. She means nothing to me." Even as he said the words, he knew he lied.
"Ah, but I think she does."
Music started again. This time the tune was a slow one. Harriet took the empty glass from his hand and set it on the top of the post. "Dance with me, Matt."
He shook his head. Harold T. had claimed Libby for a dance. The last place Matthew wanted to be was on the dance floor. What if they accidently bumped into each other? All of his careful facade would crumble. "I don't feel like dancing, Harriet."
"Yes, you do." She pulled him from the stall and led him to the edge of the dance floor. When she realized he still balked, she leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "Relax, this won't kill you."
Matthew involuntarily looked at the couple a few feet away. Harold's bald head gleamed as he watched his own feet, not paying any attention to his dancing partner. Libby glanced at Harriet, and then at Matthew. To his surprise, she gave him a polite smile and nodded. Though her smile appeared genuine, he knew differently. It didn't actually reach her eyes, not like the smile she'd given him in bed. Matthew's jaw clinched against an unuttered curse. Whatever had been between them had disappeared, and, somehow, he had the feeling he was responsible.
An overwhelming urge to see Libby's true smile hit him hard. The desire was so intense he'd do almost anything to have it return...even if it meant holding her in his arms again.
"Harriet," he said. "Would you mind doing me a favor?"
Chapter Twenty
"I ain't blind. I seen you lettin' them others sniff around your skirt. I'm ever bit as good as them."
Libby leaned against the wall of the tool shed, hoping to widen the distance between her and the drunken man. Like an idiot, she followed Claude Getz when he said Sarah needed her. Sarah had left the barn several minutes earlier. Libby figured her friend needed some quiet time. When Getz called her to come out, her only thought centered on her new friend.
Once outside Getz suddenly pressed her against the tool shed's wall. His fetid breath wreathed her in the darkness. Heavy clouds covered the moon's light, making it virtually impossible to see clearly. Where the devil was Luke? He promised to stay close.
"Listen, Getz," she said calmly, hoping to buy time until Luke arrived. "I didn't come outside to hear how vulgar you can be. I agreed to follow you to Sarah."
Claude Getz chuckled, then hiccupped. "She ain't here, she's up at the house. I wanted us to spend a little time alone." He inched closer and ran a rough finger across her jaw. "Yo're shore a pretty woman. Maybe even prettier than Sarah."
Libby ignored his hand and stared over his shoulder. A man emerged from the barn and disappeared into the night shadows. Luke. She ra
ised her voice, hoping it would carry. "Me? Prettier than Sarah? Not hardly. Sarah is a beautiful woman."
Getz seemed pleased by her announcement. "And, she belongs to me. Don't you forget."
"How can I?" Libby asked scornfully. "You keep reminding everyone."
"A man has to, if'n he wants to keep his wife in line."
"I believe differently, Mr. Getz."
Thank God, Luke heard her. A man's shadow moved closer to the tool shed. Not wanting to give Luke away, she gave him a nasty smile. "I happen to believe women should say what they think." That, she thought smugly, would get him really angry. Now all Luke had to do was walk up behind Getz and give him a belt in the nose.
To her amazement, Getz started to chortle. "You're a smart one, Missy," He pounded her on the shoulder with his hand. "Got a mouth on you. Would be fun training you to the bit. Like I did Sarah."
Libby winced under his pummeling, but stood her ground. She knew how some men enjoyed seeing women cower under their strength. "I'm not afraid of anything," she stated. "Especially men like you."
"Is tha...at so?" He leaned close enough and she fought the urge to gag. "No man must'a learnt you any r'spect." His hand dropped from her shoulder to her arm. He clamped his broad fingers and squeezed. "Maybe it's time a real man shows you how to be afraid."
Luke, she prayed, ignoring the increasing pain in her arm, get your tail over here. Now. This is getting serious.
As if hearing her prayers, Luke slipped up behind Getz in the darkness. Confident he could handle Getz, Libby said as derisively as she could, "Don't even try it, Getz. Or, you're going to regret it."
"Yeah?" His grip on her tightened, and he yanked her away from the wall. "How am I goin' to regret it? You gonna cry like Sarah does? Won't work. Tears don't do nothing to me."
Libby glared at him with disgust. More than likely, he enjoyed watching a woman cry. "Be careful, Getz. Or you'll be the one crying."