The Chisholm Brothers:Friends, Lovers... Husbands?

by Janis Reams Hudson

  The world they traipsed through was nothing more than a swirling whiteness lined on either side with glowing street lights and the occasional set of headlights creeping past at a slow pace.

  The restaurant, when they stepped inside after traipsing the fifty yards from their room, was a sharp contrast of light, loud voices, and heat that seemed excessive.

  Justin and Blaire took their time ordering, and eating, neither in a hurry to return and lock themselves away in their motel room again too soon.

  But they couldn’t dawdle forever, so eventually they made their way back.

  “Is the wind dying down?” she asked when they were about halfway back to the motel. “Or is that just wishful thinking on my part?”

  “No,” Justin said, sticking his nose into the air. “I think you’re right.”

  “Here’s hoping it’s not just a temporary lull,” she said, huddling down farther into her coat.

  “Dare I say you could have stayed in the room?”

  “Depends on how lucky you’re feeling,” she told him, grateful they didn’t have far to go but not willing to admit it.

  “Oh,” was all he said. But he smiled when he said it.

  The room they had so eagerly left no more than an hour earlier now looked welcoming to them.

  They had left the lamp and television on, a habit Justin had developed long ago. He felt that if anyone was up to no good and snooping around, hearing the television would probably send them off to find a quieter, darker room to break into.

  Now Justin opened the door and ushered Blaire inside. “Home at last,” he said.

  Blaire smirked. “I wouldn’t go that far, but at least now I can take my shoes off.”

  “Your feet must be frozen.”

  “If you say so.” She hung up her coat, then toed off her sneakers. “I can’t feel them enough to tell.”

  Instantly concerned—as if he hadn’t been worried enough about her all evening—Justin hung his coat beside hers. As soon as he’d tugged off his boots— not an easy task without a bootjack—he made her sit on the bed. He drew the chair up and sat before her.

  “Give me your feet.”

  Blaire blinked. “What?”

  “Your feet.” He patted his thighs. “Put ’em here. I’ll warm them.”

  “Now there’s an offer I’ll take you up on.” Blaire sat on the edge of the bed and placed one foot on Justin’s thigh. “If I give you both feet I’ll fall over backward.”

  “And your point is?”

  Blaire laughed. “Okay. Since I ate like a pig, stretching out sounds inviting.” She leaned back and braced herself on both elbows and gave him her stockinged feet.

  Justin pressed the bottoms of her feet against his abdomen and rubbed the tops with both his hands.

  It took only a few seconds before Blaire felt the heat seep through her socks and into her icy skin.

  She moaned in relief. “Oh, that feels good.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” He rubbed vigorously until his hands felt hot. Then slowly he pulled off one sock and held her bare foot in his hands.

  It was so damned small, Justin thought, and pale compared to his hands. Just like the entire woman. Dainty and white, while he was…not. He was a big man, dark skinned, not particularly graceful except when on horseback. Not that men should be graceful, but she was, and her grace simply emphasized what a big, clumsy clod he was.

  Hell, maybe she was right. Maybe they had no business getting married. What did he know about raising a child? Guiding another human being from infancy to adulthood and have them turn out to be not only a productive member of society, but a genuinely good person. Because that’s what he wanted for this child of theirs, that he or she be, above all else, a genuinely good person.

  For that matter, what did Blaire know of raising children? Surely no more than he did, except women seemed to be born with some secret well of knowledge about children. Sort of like men being born understanding car engines and electrical wiring. It was genetic.

  And that was bull.

  Besides, marriage was first and foremost about a man and a woman and their commitment to each other. Children, even ones who were already on the way, came after the making of that commitment. At least, that was the way Justin thought things should go. For it to work and last, the marriage and commitment had to be genuine for their own sakes, not merely for the sake of the child.

  Didn’t they?

  God help him, how was a man supposed to know what to do? Why didn’t Blaire seem to be struggling with this subject? She seemed to know exactly how she wanted things to go, and her plans didn’t include him.

  Maybe she knew better than he did, but Justin wasn’t ready to accept that. Never mind that he wasn’t sure how to do what needed to be done. He knew what was right. He knew what needed to be.

  He would have to rethink his strategy. He had to find a way around her reluctance.

  First, he would warm her feet. Then he would decide what came next.

  He removed her other sock.

  Blaire closed her eyes in relief and pleasure. His warm, strong hand enveloped her cold foot and sent heat seeping through her toes and up her leg.

  Who knew, she wondered as the heat rose farther and farther up her leg, that a foot could be an erogenous zone?

  She opened her eyes to see if he realized what he was doing to her and knew instantly that his mind was a million miles away. And then he blinked, and his gaze focused on her like a laser targeting its mark. A deep shiver wracked her. She felt his hot gaze over every inch of her.

  With their gazes locked, he pulled his shirttail from the waist of his jeans and tucked her feet underneath, pressing her bare soles directly against his bare abdomen.

  It was impossible to say who sucked in the deeper breath, as they both gasped at the contact. And not merely because her feet were cool and his flesh was hot.

  Justin rubbed the tops of her feet, then stroked them with his fingertips. Then he stroked up to her ankles, and up beneath the hem of her jeans until he couldn’t reach any farther.

  “Are your legs cold?” he asked, his voice low and rough, their gazes still locked.

  “Do I get to rub them against your skin if they are?”

  A slow smile curved his lips. “Is that what you want to do?”

  “My legs,” she offered, reaching for the zipper of her jeans, “are freezing.”

  “Well, then.” Justin reached up and helped her tug down her jeans. “We can’t have you being cold.”

  “Nor you.” She reached for his shoulders and urged him onto the bed with her. “That’s better.”

  In sharp contrast to the fast-paced action adventure movie on the television, Blaire and Justin moved together as if performing a slow ballet, one graceful motion at a time, first by her, then him. Hands stroked, lips tasted, clothes drifted away one article at a time.

  There was no cold flesh, as heat moved from him through her and back again.

  There was no hurry, no rush to reach that peak of pleasure. They knew it was there, waiting for them. They knew it would be all the sweeter for taking their time in getting there.

  On the television, tires screeched and bullets exploded from guns.

  On the bed, breaths held in pleasure, then came out in soft sighs. Touches lingered, gazes smiled.

  When Justin entered her Blaire felt her own completion in the most profound way. This was right, the two of them together, with the child they created between them.

  Her vision blurred. His name left her lips softly, with deep emotion.

  Justin was humbled by the tears in her eyes and the depth of emotion in her voice. For his part, he felt as if he had finally come home, there in her arms. He had felt this way only three times in his life. Every one of those times had been when he was buried deep inside this one woman.

  He knew that had to mean that they were meant to be together, but just then he couldn’t concentrate enough to turn the thought over in his mind. The pressur
e in his loins was building, and Blaire was urging him faster, harder, deeper.

  Together they climbed that steep slope and slid quietly yet unmistakably over the edge into the mindless world of colors and breathless wonder.

  They slept that night in each other’s arms, flesh to flesh, heart to heart. Four times, now, they had made love, and they had napped together earlier that very day. But they had never fallen asleep in each other’s arms, knowing they need not wake until morning. It was a luxury and a gift, and Blaire closed her eyes and reveled in it.

  Justin woke once to turn off the light and television. So much, he thought with a smile, for Blaire’s belief that she could only sleep in the dark and quiet.

  Outside the wind had died. He lifted one edge of the drapes and peered out, noting that the snow had finally stopped, leaving everything covered in a thick blanket of white.

  When he crawled back beneath the covers, Blaire’s arms welcomed him, even while she slept.

  Now that, he thought, had to mean something. In her sleep she wanted him, trusted him, welcomed him. Surely she could learn to do those things when awake, couldn’t she?

  He tried to wrap his mind around a way to make her want to marry him, but he felt so loose and relaxed that he found he couldn’t string two coherent thoughts together. Within minutes he was once again asleep.

  When Justin opened his eyes, Blaire was staring at him with a bemused smile. There was enough light seeping in around the edges of the drapes across the room behind him that he knew it was daylight.

  “Good morning.” He gave her a smile of his own. “I could get used to this, waking up with you. I think you should change your mind and marry me.”

  A funny look crossed her face. Her lips mashed tightly together, her eyes widened, and her cheeks bellowed. Her skin looked a little on the green side.

  “Blaire?”

  She slapped one hand over her mouth, made a strangling noise, and leaped from the bed and toward the bathroom. A second later Justin heard the clank of the toilet lid being thrown back and the unmistakable sound of a woman tossing her cookies.

  Alarmed, he dashed after her, feeling more helpless than he could remember ever feeling. All he could do was kneel at her side and hold her hair back and away from her face. He nearly got sick himself watching her heave into the commode again and again.

  Finally she sat back on her heels, eyes closed, and panted.

  Hurriedly Justin wet a washcloth at the sink and wiped her face. “Hell, darlin’, if you didn’t want to marry me, a simple no would have done it.”

  Blaire, still a little nauseated, more than a little humiliated at having him witness her throwing up her guts, took the washcloth from him and covered her face with it in time to muffle a burst of laughter. “Don’t be silly.”

  Then, in an abrupt turnaround of mood familiar to pregnant women everywhere, she burst into tears.

  “Aw, come on, honey, don’t cry.” He started to take her in his arms, but she sucked in a sharp breath and made another dive for the toilet.

  Nothing came up this time, for which Justin was grateful. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take without dropping to his knees and joining her.

  After another few minutes, when Blaire felt steady enough, Justin helped her back to bed. He smoothed the covers over her shoulders and kissed her nose. “What else can I do? What do you need?”

  Blaire sniffed. “You’re being awfully sweet about this.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? I assume this is morning sickness caused by the baby, but even if it wasn’t, you can’t help it if you’re sick. I’ve been sick a time or two. I always like somebody to lend me a hand. Do you want some water?”

  She rolled her head slightly from side to side on the pillow. “Crackers. In my coat pocket.”

  “You carry crackers in your coat?” He reached into the pocket of her coat and came up with a cellophane package containing two saltine crackers.

  “They came with my salad,” she explained at his questioning look.

  “Is this enough?” He tore open the package and gave her a cracker. “Just these two little crackers? I can get you more.”

  Nibbling on the cracker, Blaire smiled. “I won’t need more, at least until tomorrow morning.”

  Justin shuddered to think of having to go through, day after day, what she’d just gone through. “Does it happen every day?”

  “Almost,” she said, reaching for the second cracker. “But it goes away pretty fast.”

  “That’s something,” he said. “I guess. How long is this supposed to last?”

  She shrugged. “It’s different for every woman. But with any luck it should go away in another few weeks.”

  “Weeks?” He felt his stomach turn over at the very thought.

  She finished her cracker and traced a finger across his cheek. “It’s sweet of you to care.”

  “Care? It’s our baby that’s making you sick. Of course I care. And I meant what I said earlier. I do wish you’d change your mind and marry me.”

  She smiled up at him sadly. “Are you in love with me, Justin?”

  Her question startled him. Had she been reading his thoughts from the day before? “I…”

  “Don’t you think we should be in love with each other before we get married?” she asked.

  Dammit, she was making his own argument for him. Now he had to argue the other side.

  “I admit,” he said slowly, “that that’s how it should be, but we’ve kinda put things out of order, you and I. And anyway, I don’t know if I even know what love is. I’ve never been in love before, Blaire. I know I feel things for you I’ve never felt for another woman, but is it love? I suppose I could lie and say yes, but I can’t lie to you. The God’s honest truth is, I don’t know.”

  Blaire swallowed a hard knot of disappointment. She shouldn’t have been surprised; she’d known he wasn’t in love with her. Just because she loved him didn’t mean he had to return her feelings.

  “We could still make a go of it,” he said.

  “A go of it?” She felt dazed, bruised. Heaven help her, had she harbored some hope that they would fall into each other’s arms and swear their undying love for each other?

  Nonsense. She pushed herself up and leaned against the headboard, tucking the sheet beneath her arms.

  “Yeah,” Justin said. “I mean, just because we’re not madly in love doesn’t meant we can’t make it work. As long as we respect each other’s feelings, and we’re polite and honest and considerate with each other, how many problems could we have that we couldn’t see through?”

  She was shaking her head no before he finished speaking. Probably, she thought, because his words made such uncommonly good sense for two people in their situation.

  “Surely we could get through the next few months, until the baby’s born, without doing any lasting damage to each other,” he offered. “If we’re not happy with each other by then, we can go our separate ways. Meanwhile the baby carries the Chisholm name and the two of you get taken care of and don’t have to worry about the future.”

  “Justin, I’m honored that you want to marry me, honest I am. But I told myself a long, long time ago that I would marry for love—mutual love—or not at all. I won’t try to cut you out of the baby’s life, and I won’t turn down your help—when I need help. But none of that means we need to get married.”

  Justin scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration. “I’ll ask again,” he warned.

  “Not for a while, please,” she said. “Just let it go for a few weeks. Please?”

  Justin let out a long breath. “All right. If that’s the way you want it. But I can’t keep this from my family for much longer.”

  “No,” she said. “That’s no fair. My family knows. There’s no reason you can’t tell yours.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “No. They’re the baby’s family, too.”

  “Do you want to be there when I tell them?”

  She gav
e him a crooked smile. “At the risk of proving what a coward I am, no. If we were announcing that we were getting married—”

  “Fine by me.”

  “—that would be different. But since we’re not, I’ll let you tell them without me.”

  “They’ll probably all show up at the feed store, one at a time, to see you.”

  She nodded and stared at her hands in her lap. “I’ll be ready.”

  Justin laughed and used one forefinger to nudge her chin up so she would look at him. “They wouldn’t be coming to point fingers and make faces. They’ll be coming to see how you’re doing, if you need anything. They’ll probably start bringing baby presents the day after I tell them.”

  “Oh, they wouldn’t.”

  “They would, and neither you nor I will be able to stop them, especially my grandmother. This will be the birth of her first great-grandchild, so brace yourself.”

  By noon Justin had sat still in the motel for as long as he could. The storm was gone, the sun was shining, the snow was melting rapidly, especially on the roads.

  Still, he wouldn’t take chances with Blaire’s safety. He waited another couple of hours to let the traffic and the highway department do the work of clearing the roads.

  He called a local garage and arranged to have Blaire’s car towed in and checked out. They promised not to do any actual repairs without her permission.

  “As soon as it’s drivable,” Justin told Blaire, “I’ll drive you back up here to get it.”

  Blaire merely hummed, not disagreeing, but not specifically agreeing, either. She had agreed to accept his help, but only when she needed it. Her mother was more than capable of driving Blaire to Stillwater to get her car. Her father was certainly able, if not particularly willing, to handle the store without either of them for a few hours.

  It was with relief that she joined Justin in the cab of his pickup for the drive home.

  At least, she told herself it was relief. But she would probably dream for the next month about falling asleep and waking up in his arms. About his tender care of her when the morning sickness hit. About his thought-provoking solution to marriage when there was no deep love.