“Please!” She tried her best to cover all the pertinent parts with her arms. “What are you doing?”
“You know,” Hank said thoughtfully, “if this were the old country we’d just leave you like that.” She patted Abby on the shoulder. “Thank God we’re a little more civilized these days. Mae, hand me that bag.”
Mae shoved the bag into Hank’s hand, her head tilted to one side as she listened to the song that floated up from the window. It was the first time Abby realized the men were singing. Her face turned blood red at the bawdy lyrics, but the other women were laughing.
“You know, Hank,” Mae commented. “That middle boy of yours has a real fine voice.”
“He does, don’t he? Takes after his Pa, God rest his soul.”
Abby saw a flash of emerald green silk in Hank’s hands just before it dropped over her head and she breathed a sigh of relief. Anything to get covered up was fine with her.
“Raise your arms, sugar. There ya go. We all chipped in together to get this gown for you.” She brushed the silk down Abby’s body. “Every bride should have something fancy to wear to bed with her man. Puts a little iron in the old flagpole. Not that you’re gonna need any help. Look right pretty, you do.”
Hank turned to search the mass of women. “Jean? Where are you?” She spied the woman she was looking for and tugged her to the front. “You do her hair. You’re better at that than I am. And Lilla, you start lighting the candles.”
“Candles?” Abby blurted as Jean began tugging on her hair.
“Yep, makes it nice and romantic. That’s it, Jean, but just one clip.” Hank directed. “Want to make it easy for Tate to get it down. Nothing a man likes better than turning a woman’s hair loose. Well, except maybe for one thing.” She laughed loudly at her own joke.
There was a loud banging on the door and the sound of men’s voices from the hall.
“Okay,” Hank waved her arms. “Everybody stand back and let me get a good look at her.”
Obligingly, the women moved back, leaving Abby alone in the middle of the room. Hank propped her hands on the wide expanse of her hips and looked Abby up and down.
“Um, um. Sugar, he is gonna eat you alive.”
The other women laughed again when Abby turned blood red.
“Okay, gals. Open the door and let’s get out of here.”
The last one out of the room flicked the light off, leaving only the glow from what seemed to be a hundred candles filling the room. Before Abby could even draw a breath, Tate was shoved into the room wearing only his jeans and those were unfastened. He took one look at Abby and spun, slamming the door in the faces of the men still lining the hall, and shot the lock into place. When he turned back, he leaned weakly against the door and stared at her.
“I thought you said this was called off,” she hissed.
“I guess they changed their minds.” His voice sounded faint.
“That’s just great.” She moved toward the candles, intending to blow them out. “Well, at least I prepared. There are blankets and a pillow in the closet. You can sleep on the floor.”
As she passed in front of the mirror, Abby came to an abrupt halt. “Oh, my God.” The gown that she had felt so covered in, covered nothing. The thin silk clung to her, exposing every curve, every hollow. And the candlelight shone right through it.
“You look wonderful.”
“I look naked,” she grated.
“Yeah, that too,” Tate said, sounding as through he were choking. He was still leaning against the door.
Abby gathered the shreds of her dignity around her and walked to the bed. “You can blow the candles out.”
“I’m not sure I can move right now.”
“Fine. Then let the house burn down.” She crawled to the center of the bed and pulled the sheet up, then reached for the clip in her hair.
Just as her hair came free, Tate moved and she watched him walk to the bed. He sat gingerly on the side, turned slightly to face her.
“I’m kind of glad they did this, Abby. We need to talk.”
“Do we?” She ran her hands through her hair, shaking it to settle it in place, then leaned back on the headboard. “Maybe you’re right. We do need to talk.”
“I wanted to say I’m sorry. I know you’re upset about the other night.”
“You’ve already said you were sorry.”
“Abby, you knew I planned on telling Diane what happened. I owed her that much.”
“I know you did. I don’t blame you for doing it. It was only right.”
He was looking more confused by the second. “Then why have you stayed locked up in here since then?”
“Because I had some thinking to do.”
“About what?”
If anything, the noise from downstairs had gotten louder. Abby tried to ignore it. “About this whole situation.”
“And?”
She took a deep breath. “As soon as the baby’s born, I’m leaving, Tate. I’d go now, but you pretty well put a stop to any chance I had of making it on my own. I don’t have a house or a job. So I’ll stay here. I figure by the time the baby gets here I’ll have my diploma and I can get a job in Austin. We’ll be fine and you’ll be able to get on with your life. I’m sure Diane will take you back.”
“Abby, why are you doing this? Do you expect me to never see my child? I told you, it’s over with Diane. You are mad, aren’t you? Because I saw her Thursday night.”
“No, Tate. It’s not the fact that you saw her that bothers me. It’s what you did afterwards. Telling her made you so miserable that the only way you could handle it was to get drunk. Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life with you, knowing that if it weren’t for me, you’d be happy?” She lifted her chin. “I can’t do that. If you want to see the baby, I won’t stop you, but you’ll have to come to Austin to do it.”
“Abby, you don’t understand.”
“You’ve already said that, too, Tate.” She scooted down in the bed and turned her back to him. “It’s been a long day and I’m tired. Please put the candles out before you go to sleep.”
“This isn’t over yet, Abby. No matter what you say, I’m going to change your mind. I won’t let you leave.”
She refused to answer and for a long time there was no sound, then she felt his weight lift from the bed. One by one the candles went out, leaving the room in darkness. Silently, she turned her face into the pillow.
Chapter Twelve
Tate sat perched on the windowsill, his back against the frame as he watched the last car head down the driveway. He didn’t have to look at the clock to know it was almost midnight. Every minute since the chivaree started had passed with agonizing slowness. He hadn’t even bothered to get the blankets out of the closet. There wasn’t much chance of him getting any sleep anyway.
The change in Abby’s breathing let him know she’d finally drifted off to sleep about thirty minutes earlier. He supposed he could go back to his own room now, if he wanted to, but he couldn’t seem to move. He felt numb inside.
How had he managed to screw everything up so badly? Not only had he lost Diane, now it looked like he was going to lose Abby and the baby, too. He couldn’t stand the thought of only seeing his child occasionally. Somehow, some way, he had to convince Abby to stay.
He shifted slightly so he could see the bed. There was enough light that Abby was clearly visible. The blankets had slipped down, exposing her from the waist up. Where had that gown come from? He’d been damn near to losing every shred of his control when he’d seen her standing in the middle of the room, the candlelight showing him every inch of her. The only thing he’d been able to think about was dragging her to the bed and making love to her all night long.
He still didn’t know what there was about her that made him want her so much. But he did know that in the week she’d been here, he’d gotten so used to having her around that it was going to leave a big hole in his life if she left, even without the baby being involve
d. He liked knowing that she was here, liked looking up from work and seeing her waiting on him. And he loved to hear her laugh. It was something he suspected she hadn’t done a lot of during her life.
A sound from the bed drew his attention upward. Her head was tossing back and forth in agitation. “No,” she mumbled. “No.”
Tate slipped from the window and moved to the side of the bed. “Abby?” He touched her gently, then sat on the bed next to her, his hands on her shoulders. “Abby, wake up. It’s just a dream.”
Her eyes flew open, confusion clouding them for a moment before they cleared. “Tate.”
“You were having a nightmare.”
She sat up, looking around the room as though she wasn’t sure where she was. “I was dreaming?”
“Do you remember what it was about?”
He felt her trembling under his hands and, taking the biggest risk of his life, stretched out next to her, pulling her gently down into the circle of his arms.
“No. Whatever it was is gone now.”
He could barely hear her voice, but his arms tightened and a slim thread of hope quivered to life inside him when she didn’t protest his nearness. She needed him. Even if she wasn’t willing to admit it yet, she needed him, and she’d need him even more the farther along she got in her pregnancy. He was going to make damn sure he was always there when she did.
“Go back to sleep,” he murmured. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
* * * * *
The movement of Abby’s hand on his back woke Tate instantly but he lay still, opening his eyes the merest slit. He was still on top of the blankets, Abby curled up against him, soft and warm. Early morning light streamed through the windows, but the air still held the chill of night.
As badly as he wanted to pretend he was still asleep, Abby was watching his face intently and he suspected she knew he was awake. He let his eyes open all the way.
“It’s Sunday,” Abby commented softly.
“I know.”
“Aren’t you going fishing?”
“No.” Tate kept his voice as quiet as hers. “It was a long night. I think I’d rather sleep in this time.”
She digested that for a second or two. Suddenly, she tugged on the blanket. “You’re cold. You might as well get under here, too.”
He sure as hell didn’t need another invitation, Tate thought as he slid under the blankets. Turning on his side, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. Thank God for his jeans. And even with those on, he wasn’t too sure she couldn’t feel the effect she was having on him. Maybe she just didn’t realize what it was.
Hesitantly, almost fearfully, Tate let his hand drop to her abdomen, his fingers splayed on the skin-warmed silk of the gown. Abby went very still.
“That’s our baby in there,” he whispered. “Can you imagine what it would feel like if someone were trying to take it away from you?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice was low, husky.
“It would hurt, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes.” Her voice dropped another notch.
“Abby, that’s how it makes me feel when you tell me you’re going to leave after the baby is born. You may not believe it, but I love our baby as much as you do. The thought of losing it is killing me.”
She made a choked noise and turned toward him, her face against his neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it like that. I just don’t want to see you hurting because of me.”
He stroked her hair. “It would hurt me a lot worse if you left.” Tate hesitated again. “Would you like me to tell you what happened with Diane the other night?”
Abby shook her head. “No, it’s none of my business.”
“It is your business. You’re my wife now. But I will tell you this. It wasn’t the idea of losing Diane that made me get drunk. I knew from the start it was over.” He took a deep breath. “Telling her was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m not used to hurting people. The guilt was killing me. And I guess you could even say it was because she stomped all over my ego. Men don’t take things like that very well and she fights dirty.”
“Are you sure that’s what it was?” Her voice was still muffled in his neck.
“Positive. And I can promise you right now, I’m never going to get drunk again for as long as I live. I thought I was going to die.”
He felt her lips curve up in a smile against his skin. “You were pretty sick.” She pulled back slightly and looked at him. “Tate, I can’t promise anything, but I’ll give it a chance. If it looks like it might work, I’ll stay.”
Relief left him weak. “Thank you.” He kissed her lightly. Maybe this would be a good time to push his advantage? He said a little prayer, took a deep breath and forced the words out. “Abby, do you think it would be okay if I moved my things in here with you?”
“In here?” She looked startled.
He brushed a lock of hair back from her face. “You said you were staying,” he reminded her.
“Well, yes, if everything goes well.”
“It will. You’re going to be my wife for a long time.”
“I guess so.” She still didn’t sound too sure.
“What if something happened during the night and you needed me? I might not be able to hear you.” Tate almost groaned. Even to him that had sounded pretty lame. “Okay, I’ll admit it’s been kind of nice being here with you, holding you. I wouldn’t mind doing it more. A lot more. Like every night. If it’s the sex you’re worried about, you don’t have to. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
He couldn’t believe those words were coming out of him. He wanted her so badly he wasn’t sure he could survive one more night without making love to her. He should have stuck a sock in his mouth before he inserted his foot into it.
“Well,” Abby started and Tate held his breath. “I guess it would be all right.”
A ridiculous surge of happiness hit him. Without stopping to analyze the feeling, he tried to suppress the urge to scream “Yes!” at the top of his lungs. Instead he smiled at her. “I’ll move in this afternoon.”
Abby shifted slightly. “Maybe I should get up and fix breakfast?”
“I’m not hungry yet and Buddy can take care of himself. We might as well take advantage of the chance to stay in bed for a while. It doesn’t happen that often around here.” He pulled her head back down on his arm. “There. Try to go back to sleep.”
She snuggled down and closed her eyes with a tiny sigh.
* * * * *
Buddy was sitting at the kitchen table, feet propped up on an empty chair when Tate entered the room later that afternoon. “Save me some of that pie,” he directed his brother, eyeing the aluminum pan.
“Don’t worry, there are two more just like it in the fridge. Along with all the rest of the food left from last night. Looks like we’re expecting a siege.”
Tate took a cup from the cabinet and poured coffee. “Where’s Abby?”
“Outside watering the plants you got at the feed store Wednesday.”
“I guess we need to get those in the ground today.” He turned toward the table only to find Buddy staring at him, his fork still. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I was wondering the same thing about you. You haven’t stopped smiling since you came in.”
“You want me to yell?”
“No, no,” Buddy hastily assured him. “You just keep right on smiling.” He picked delicately at the remaining pie. “You sure did sleep late today.”
Tate grinned at him. “Yep.”
“Didn’t go fishing, either.”
“Nope.”
“Sure was a lot of tromping around going on upstairs a few minutes ago. What were you doing?”
“Just moving a few things.” Tate took a drink of coffee.
“What things?”
He was beginning to wish he’d strangled Buddy at birth. “My things.”
“Were you moving them somewhere in particular, or just d
ragging them up and down the hall for the exercise?”
Tate ground his teeth together. “I was moving them to Abby’s room.”
“Oh.” Buddy gave a half grin. “Can I have some money?”
“No.” Tate glared at him.
“Well, it was worth a shot. I should have asked while you were still smiling.”
Grabbing the pie, Tate finished it off while Buddy protested. “Remember, it’s Sunday. Homework.”
“It’s done.”
“Excuse me. Did I just hear you say it’s done?”
Buddy shrugged. “It was so quiet around here this morning that I got bored. Figured I might as well get it out of the way.”
“You did take care of the stock, didn’t you?”
“Of course. Don’t I always on the weekends?” He sounded insulted that Tate would even ask.
“Just checking.”
“When are you going to bring the brood mares in? Some of them are getting close.”
“First part of this next week, probably. I’ll check them tomorrow.” He pushed his chair back. “Think I’ll go see if Abby’s ready to start on the garden.”
“Need some help?”
“The more the merrier.”
They had just started out the door when the phone rang. Buddy stopped. “You go ahead. I’ll get it.”
He waited until Tate was through the door then dove at the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Squirt, what’s up?”
“Joe. Thank heavens it’s you.”
“Who were you expecting?”
“Diane.” Buddy grimaced. “I think she might have called earlier. Abby answered the phone and whoever it was hung up on her.”
“Well, hell. She tried to get in on the party last night, too. Fred Thompson was at the gate. He told me later that she showed up in that fancy convertible of hers, all gussied up fit to kill and ready to raise hell. She wasn’t too happy when Fred kept her out. He said she slung gravel for a mile taking off.”
“I’m glad he didn’t let her in,” Buddy said fiercely. “You wouldn’t believe how different things are around here today.”
“Yeah?” Joe suddenly sounded a lot more interested. “Tell me about it.”