by Sandra Brown
"I love you all so much. Thank you for being such wonderful children. Thank you for being happy for me."
"Better get her away from here, Pat," Chase quipped. "She's beginning to leak."
Amidst laughter and a barrage of good wishes, Pat escorted his bride to her car—they couldn't very well take his squad car on their honeymoon—and drove off beneath a shower of rice.
The guests began to disperse until only the family was left. While both babies were asleep upstairs, the men pitched in to help with the unpleasant chore of cleaning up.
When everything was done, they convened around the kitchen table for sandwiches. "Wedding cake and canapés just doesn't do it," Chase said, stacking sliced ham and Swiss cheese onto a piece of rye bread.
"Maybe we should have packed Laurie and Pat a lunch to take with them," Devon said. "They ate less than anyone and have a long drive ahead of them."
Their plans were to drive to the New Mexico mountains, where there was snow in the higher elevations. Neither had any desire to ski, merely to enjoy each other and the scenery from their cozy suite at a ritzy lodge.
"Are you kidding?" Lucky chortled. "They've probably already stopped for the night not ten miles from here. I'll bet Pat made it no farther than one of those motels on the interstate."
"I understand they can be very romantic," Marcie said, glancing teasingly at Devon and Lucky.
Lucky reached over and squeezed his wife's shoulder. "Damned if you're not right, Marcie."
Devon was known to give as good as she got. With no compunction whatsoever, she hooked her hand around Lucky's neck and kissed him long and hard on the mouth. When she finally released him, he gasped for breath. "I love weddings. They make the womenfolk horny as hell."
Sage cast a nervous glance toward Harlan. He was observing her with the motionless concentration of a jungle cat. She left her chair and carried her empty glass to the refrigerator to get a refill of her drink. A moving target was harder to hit, she thought, feeling like prey caught in the fine cross-hairs.
Chase groaned. "Little good it does me for Marcie to be horny."
"That's the only bad thing about having a baby. How much longer?" Lucky asked sympathetically.
"Two more weeks and counting," Marcie replied, laying a consoling arm across her husband's shoulders. He lowered his head and laid it on her chest.
"The thing about weddings and women," he said dreamily, "is the organ music. It reminds them of the sounds they make when they make love."
Sage dropped her glass. It crashed to the floor and shattered. Milk splashed up on her shoes and stockings.
Marcie shoved Chase's head away. "You should be ashamed of yourself! You embarrassed your sister, and I don't blame her one bit."
Lucky was laughing so hard, he was clutching his waist. "That was a good one, big brother. Wish I'd've thought of it myself."
Devon was trying as hard as Marcie to stifle her own laughter.
Sage didn't dare look toward Harlan. This conversation was for happily married couples who were comfortable with jests about sex. It was torture for two people who had a guilty secret to hide.
She mopped up the spilled milk with a dish-towel, and, in the process, cut her hand on a piece of broken glass. As she was bent over the sticky mess, a familiar pair of boots moved into her field of vision.
Harlan squatted down beside her and began picking up the larger chunks of glass. "Let me help with this."
"No thanks."
He caught her hand. "You're bleeding."
"It's nothing," she said, pulling her hand from his grasp. "I'm going upstairs to change."
She darted upstairs, shimmied out of her dress, kicked off her suede shoes, and peeled off her hosiery. She replaced the finery with her oldest pair of jeans, riding boots, and a heavy jacket. In the bathroom medicine cabinet, she located a Band-Aid and placed it over the cut before working her hands into tight leather gloves. Within minutes, she was on her way down the stairs, carrying the new quirt she'd been given for Christmas.
"I'm going riding," she announced as she sailed through the kitchen without even slowing down.
"Now?" Chase glanced through the kitchen window. "It's almost dark."
"I won't be gone long."
Before they could stop her, she bolted through the back door and ran toward the barn. She saddled her favorite horse in record time. As soon as they cleared the yard, she nudged the gelding into a gallop.
The wind tore at her hair. It felt icy on her cheeks when it connected with the wet patches her tears had left. She had ridden quite a distance before it no longer felt as though her chest was going to crack from internal pressure.
She sucked in the cold air. It hurt her lungs and brought new tears to her eyes, but at least it was a new pain. For two weeks, ever since learning of her mother's intention to marry, she'd been coping with her sense of loss.
It was selfish of her, she knew. She wouldn't begrudge either her mother or Pat their happiness together. But their marriage only compounded her feelings of alienation.
What was she going to do? Where was she going to live? With whom did she belong?
Laurie had told them of their plans to live in Pat's small house. Lucky had objected.
"This is your house, Mother."
"It's our house," she had corrected. "It belongs to all of us. But Devon and you are using it to raise your family in, and I couldn't be happier about that. I love this house. I loved the man who built it. But now I love another man. I want to live in his house, with him, as a newlywed."
Sage knew she would always be welcome in the ranch house. It was her home, too. As Laurie had said, it belonged to all of them. Devon and Lucky wouldn't boot her out.
Even so, she would feel like an intruder now. The house should be home to a nuclear family. She wasn't part of that anymore. She didn't belong there any longer. She didn't belong with Laurie and Pat. She didn't belong … period.
There were hundreds of thousands of career women who lived alone. That wasn't what bothered her. It was that she felt so cut off from everything familiar and dear. Laurie's first priority would be Pat now. That was as it should be. Chase and Lucky had their families.
What did she have? Nothing. No real home. No real career. No one.
She reined in her horse and dismounted. Laying her cheek against his muzzle, she admitted to him that she was indulging in a bad case of self-pity. Sympathetically, he nudged her shoulder.
"I'm no use to anybody. What am I going to do with the rest of my life?"
The gelding, his short supply of sympathy expended, dipped his head and began to graze.
* * *
Sage's swift departure left a vacuum in the kitchen. Lucky was the first to speak. "What got into her?"
Harlan reached for his jacket on the wall rack and pulled open the door. "I'll go after her." He left almost as hastily as Sage had.
"I haven't wanted to bring it up, but Sage has been acting peculiarly," Marcie said.
"How can you tell?" They all shot Lucky a dirty look. "Well, she's always been a little off the wall, hasn't she?" he said defensively.
Chase said to Marcie, "You've mentioned this before. I've gone out of my way to be nice to her. You don't think it's helped?"
Marcie shrugged. "Something's still bothering her."
"I've noticed it too," Devon said. "She hasn't confided anything to me though."
"Me either," Marcie said.
"Could it be Belcher?"
Devon's brows puckered. "I really don't believe so, Lucky. I never was convinced she was madly in love with him. I think I would recognize the signs." She exchanged a tender look with her husband.
"I agree, Devon," Marcie said. "All I know is that she hasn't been herself since she came home for Christmas."
"You don't think she could be jealous of Pat, do you?" Chase suggested. "Taking her mommy away, his becoming more important to her than Sage is."
They silently pondered that for a moment, then M
arcie said, "Their marriage might have contributed to the problem, but I don't think that's at the base of it. Sage is too emotionally well-grounded for the marriage to throw her for such a loop."
Worriedly, she glanced toward the door. "I feel badly saying this, but, I'm not sure Harlan is the right one to go after her."
"You think Sage's weirdness might have something to do with Harlan?" Lucky asked.
"I don't know," Marcie hedged. "There seems to be a lot of latent hostility between them." Almost as soon as the words were out, she negated them with a wave of her hand. "I'm probably imagining it."
"You're not," Devon remarked. "The other day I saw them meet on the stairs. He tried to engage her in conversation. She moved right past him with barely a civil word. I didn't think too much of it then, but, now that you mention it, on more than one occasion I've seen her snub him."
"Well, I'll be damned;" Lucky muttered. "He's such a likable guy." He looked across the table at Chase. "What do you make of it?"
"Hell if I know. Maybe she's sore because we brought him into the company. It's always been strictly family before. In any event, I'd better find her before he does."
"I'll come too."
Minutes later, the brothers were in Chase's pickup, following the dirt path across the pasture.
* * *
At the sound of approaching hooves, Sage raised her head from her horse's neck. The twilight had turned so deep that at first the rider appeared only as a dark, moving shadow. He slowed his mount to a walk and clip-clopped toward her.
Recognizing the shape of his hat and breadth of his shoulders, she warred over being irritated or overjoyed that he had followed her. Harlan threw his leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground.
"What are you doing here?"
He hitched his head in the direction from which he had come. "They were worried about you. The way you tore out, we were scared you'd break your neck. Or the gelding's."
"I appreciate your concern, but, as you can see, the horse and I are fine and don't need any assistance. Especially yours."
"I'm just relieved we won't have to shoot either him or you."
Sage, her expression thunderous, moved to the animal's side and placed her boot in the stirrup. Before she could boost herself up, Harlan caught her arm and pulled her around.
"How long did you figure on avoiding me?"
"Forever."
"After what happened between us?"
"I told you I didn't want to talk about it."
"Well, I do," he said, raising his voice to a near shout. "I've got plenty to say on the subject. And since I risked my own neck galloping out across this prairie after dark, you're damned well going to stand there and listen until I'm finished."
With the grip he was keeping on her arm, she couldn't very well leave. Not that she wouldn't fight for her freedom if she really wanted it. In spite of herself, she wanted to hear everything that was obviously pressing on his mind.
"Okay. You've got me," she said tersely. "What's so important that I've just got to hear it?"
"You were a virgin, Sage."
"I know that better than you."
"So now I've got to wonder whether or not you were taking birth control pills."
She inhaled a short, little breath. When she opened her mouth to speak, she discovered she was temporarily mute. She shook her head no.
He removed his hat and slapped it against his thigh. "Christ."
"Well, don't worry about it, Mr. Boyd," she said acidly. "If there's a problem, I'll take care of it. I absolve you of any and all responsibility."
"Guess again, Miss Sage," he said, pushing the words through clenched teeth. "I didn't ask to be absolved. I just wanted to know everything we're up against. What the hell were you thinking about to go to bed with a man who didn't protect himself and didn't protect you? You ought to be horsewhipped for such criminal disregard for yourself. For all you know I could be carrying a disease."
She swayed and placed her hand upon the gelding's flank for support.
"I'm not." His voice gentled a bit. "I've always taken the proper precautions before. As you'll recall, I didn't have any pockets on me when you came barging into my bedroom."
The memory of his beautiful nakedness left her cheeks warm. "Is that all you have to say?" she asked huskily.
"No. Hell no." He released her arm and slid both hands into his back pockets. He stared into the dark distance for a moment, before looking at her again. When he spoke, his breath vaporized in the cold air, creating a cloud between them.
"I didn't want anything bad to happen to you, Sage. You've got to believe that. It blew my mind when I realized you were a virgin. By the time I did, it was too late. I was in solid." Their eyes collided. Sage's fell away quickly. His voice had dropped an octave when he continued. "I planned to just, uh, you know, pull out."
She swallowed hard and stared fixedly at the point of his shirt collar.
"But, you were… It was… Hell, I don't have to tell you how it was." He blew out a gust of air and muttered a swear word. "You moved a little, baby, and I was lost."
His breathy words brought back all the sensations that had assailed her as it happened. His voice and the intensity with which he spoke made it real again. Feeling dizzy, she instinctively reached for support.
He captured her shoulders and drew her against him, then tightly wrapped his arms around her. His lips moved through her hair.
"Tell me you're all right. Reassure me, Sage."
"I'm all right. I promise. I'm fine."
"I didn't hurt you?"
"No."
"Swear?"
"Swear."
"I couldn't have lived with myself if I had hurt you, but, damn, you felt good, Sage. Did you, uh, get any pleasure at all out of it?"
She nodded against his chest. "A little?"
"Some," she murmured shyly.
"You mean more than a little?"
Again she nodded.
Sighing "Ah, Sage," he used a fistful of her hair to pull her head back. His parted lips sought hers. The cold night only made his mouth feel hotter, wetter, softer. They kissed hungrily until he pulled away and pressed her face into his open collar, where she could smell his clean skin, feel his strong heartbeat in his neck.
"Listen, I know you haven't had time to know if there's a baby or not. With the wedding and all that's been going on, you might not have even thought about it."
She hadn't. The act itself had so overwhelmed her that she hadn't had room in her brain to consider anything else, even the consequences.
"What I'm saying," he went on, "is that if you skip a period, I want to know about it right away. I'd want to do the right thing, Sage. I'd marry you."
The warmth of his body, the security of his embrace, the, low tone of his voice had lulled her into a false sense of tranquility. The edges of cold reality had been blunted by his caresses, his deep kiss, and the feel of his breath in her hair.
But when the meaning of his words finally penetrated this lovely haze, it dispelled it completely and instantly. Immediately replacing the rosy fog of romanticism was a red mist of rage.
Sage shoved him away from her at the same time the toe of her boot connected with his shin. "You bastard!" She doubled her fists and aimed blows at his head, most of which he succeeded in dodging. "I don't need your charity. I can take care of myself. Who would want your help? I wouldn't marry you—"
"Sage, calm down. I didn't say it right. What I meant—"
"I know what you meant." She flew into him again.
"Stop that. Dammit! Stop. I don't want to have to hurt you."
"Hurt me!" she shrieked. "All you've done since I met you is hurt me in one way or another," she said, belying her previous assurances.
He managed to grab both her wrists, which infuriated her. She struggled and kicked and curled her fingers into claws that, if ever freed, would scratch his eyes out.
It startled them when a pair of headlights cut a swathe t
hrough the darkness and landed on them like a spotlight. Seconds later, Chase and Lucky stood silhouetted against the bright lights.
"What the hell is going on here?" Chase demanded.
"You'd better have a damn good reason for holding her like that, Harlan," Lucky barked.
"I do. If I let her go, she's liable to kill me."
"I will!" Sage threw her shoulder into his ribs. He grunted and bent at the waist.
Wheezing, he said, "She … she might be—"
"No!" She froze, ceasing all her struggles, and gazed up at Harlan imploringly.
"I've got to tell them, Sage." He gave her a look full of regret, then faced her brothers again. "She might be pregnant with my baby."
For a moment the atmosphere crackled with expectation, like the suspension of time between a close lightning flash and the clap of thunder.
"You sneaky sonofabitch!"
Lucky launched himself at Harlan. Harlan pushed Sage out of the way just in time. Lucky's fist caught him in the gut. He doubled over only to be brought upright by a crunching uppercut to his chin.
"Lucky, I don't want to fight you. I want to—"
Whatever appeal Harlan was about to make was cut short by another punch that glanced his shoulder. Dodging it caused him to lose his balance. He landed on his bottom in the dirt.
He flung his head up and glared at her brother. Sage recoiled from the fury in his eyes. "Dammit, I said I didn't want to fight you, but you give me no choice." Then he pulled himself to his feet, ducked his head, and charged Lucky.
"Chase," she shouted, "do something!"
Chase wasn't as short-tempered as his younger brother, but he was as powerful, strong, and quick. He had never backed down from a fight, especially one where the family's honor was at stake.
But, although Sage had threatened to kill Harlan herself moments earlier, she was relieved to see that it wasn't going to be a two-against-one fight. Rather than joining in, Chase tried to break it up.
Lucky and Harlan were having none of it, however. They were slugging it out ferociously. Both men fought off Chase's peacemaking overtures. He got a bloody nose for his efforts. Sage wasn't sure whose fist had landed the blow.
For a while Lucky had the upper hand. Harlan was on the defensive. Then the tables turned. Harlan became the aggressor. He pummeled Lucky's middle, paused, and then sent one vicious fist into his chin. It was a solid punch. Lucky's head snapped back. He stumbled backward, turned, and careened into the grill of the pickup.