Hannah Howell (40 page)

“Enough of that,” he said. “Are we getting married?"

“It is not just for the baby that you ask?” Antonie knew she was being somewhat repetitive, but she could not stop herself.

“No, although I'd be lying if I said that wasn't a part of it. I want that child to carry my name. Look, I'm not good with words—"

“No, what you said is enough.” She did not really want him to explain himself. She feared he would say a lot she might like but not the words that she craved, and that would hurt.
"Sí.
We will wed. When?"

“Saturday. That's the first day the preacher could come out here."

“You have already asked the preacher to come?"

Royal grimaced, then watched her warily as he admitted, “I wasn't planning on letting you say no."

“When did you get the preacher?"

“About a week ago."

“Why did you wait so long to ask me then?"

“Cowardice."

“You are afraid of me?” Antonie said, surprised.

“I was afraid I'd end up having to force you to marry me, and I didn't want it to be that way."

“Force me? How could you force me?"

“Well, I hadn't really figured that out. That's another reason I hesitated.” He smiled crookedly when she giggled. “Any other things you want to ask me?"

"Sí."
She took a deep breath to boost her courage, wondering idly why it was sometimes harder to talk to him than to face the whole of Raoul's army. “This is to be a real marriage?"

“I'm not quite sure what you're getting at, but I'll tell you what's in my head as I think of what's ahead. We'll share a bed, we'll work together, enjoy the benefits together, have babies—"

“Can I get this one out first?” she asked pertly.

“I think I can allow that."

“How kind."

“Where was I?"

“Babies."

“Ah, yes. We'll have babies, watch them grow and have their own, which we'll tell them how to raise, and,” he looked at her sternly, “there will be no running off with handsome young men the minute my back is turned."

"Sí.
And no saloons? Or Louise's? Or hot little bits on the side?"

“No and your language is atrocious. Hot little bits on the side?"

“That is what Tomás says many wives complain about."

“And he sympathizes beautifully, then takes them to bed."

"Sí."
She grinned.

“That boy's going to get himself shot."

“There is a good chance, I am thinking."

“Enough talk about Tomás's meanderings,” he sighed, “and bed. I've only got two more days to wait."

She had to look away to keep her composure, the warmth of his gaze heating her blood.
"Sí.
Two days. I will go and talk to Patricia and Maria.” She started toward the door, glancing back at him as she opened it. “You could go and play cards with O'Neill,” she suggested, then laughed and hurried downstairs.

Patricia's pleasure over the news, as well as that of Maria and Rosa, pleased Antonie. The more fully accepted she was, the greater a part of Royal's life she would be, and that could only be good for her marriage.

For the rest of the day, she was deeply involved in preparations for the wedding. Because it was such short notice and she was visibly pregnant, it would only be attended by those at the ranch and a few very close friends. Royal was somewhat apologetic about that, until Antonie finally got him to understand that she really did not mind. She did not know many people outside of the ranch anyway.

Although tired when she finally sought her bed, Antonie found sleep elusive. She felt a leap of excitement when a soft rap came at the door. It was only a little depressing when Patricia entered instead of Royal. She would much rather have spent the night making love, but a nice chat would be pleasant. It could even help her get to sleep. Whatever was keeping her awake could well be eased by talking it out. She just wished she knew what it was.

“I wasn't sure you'd be alone,” Patricia said, then blushed as she sat on the bed.

“Ah, Royal's being very much the gentleman. He says it will make the wedding night special."

“Interesting, certainly,” Patricia said, then giggled, and Antonie smiled. “It's rather nice, too."

“You sound surprised. Do you not think your brother can be nice?"

“It's always hard to think of a brother being a lover, or romantic or anything like that. I mean, a brother, especially an older one, is the one who tells you to shut your mouth or not to get underfoot or go away or glares at your beau so hard the poor fellow can't speak. I had four older brothers to do that to me."

“One died in the war, right?"

“Yes.” Patricia sighed. “Denton. He was in between Royal and Cole. It was sad. I'd prepared myself for one of them to die though. I knew it would be a miracle for all three to come home safe and whole. It's a shame I didn't dislike any of my brothers, like some sisters do. I hate anyone to die but it must help if you can say, well, at least it wasn't the one I liked or something. The really horrible thing about Denton is that they never found him. Not a trace."

“Oh. Then how do they know he was killed?"

“Because there was a big hole and his dead horse where they'd last seen him.” Patricia shivered. “How did we get onto this subject?"

“You were talking about your brothers."

“Right. Royal. And you. Antonie, are you sure about this? It's just, well, you don't act like you're marrying the man you want."

“Ah, because I am not distracted or blushing or dreamy?"

“Well, yes. Don't you love him?"

"Sí.
I love him, but if you tell that to him I will beat you.” Antonie realized that she was only half teasing.

“You haven't told him?” Patricia asked in shock.

“No. He has not said these words to me."

“So you don't say them."

“No. Did you think this was a love match like you and Oro?"

“I'm not sure. It's not just because of the baby, is it?"

"Sí
and no. I cannot be sure he would never ask me to marry him, but he does ask now because of the baby. He wants his child to carry his name."

“But he wants you, too."

"Sí.
I think so,” Antonie shrugged. “There is a fire there still."

“How can you be so calm about it?"

“What is there not to be calm about?"

“You're getting married, yet it all sounds so unromantic and getting married should be romantic! It's forever."

“Are you and Oro always romantic, loving, and soft-eyed? I think not. Ah,
El Magnifico."
She scratched the swiftly growing puppy behind his ears when he crawled up onto the bed to lie beside her. “Get lonely under the bed?"

“He's going to be huge.” Patricia smiled faintly. “He's huge enough now. Look, Antonie, I'm not so foolish as to think everything is loving all the time."

“I know. It is hard for me to explain. I would like to be the glowing bride and I am sorry I am not. I am glad to be a bride though. Do not think that I am not. Before I left and fell into Raoul's hands, I had hoped for it. I was going to tell Royal about the baby. I felt I had seen enough in him to know that it would not only be the baby that our marriage would be based on. There are other things than passion. I was sure of it."

“Are you still sure of it?"

“I think so, but now that I face it, I wonder. This is normal, I think."

“Yes, I wondered about Oro, about me, oh, about everything. It's because it is forever."

"Sí.
Forever. I will be honest. Something was troubling me and I see it now. It is forever, and in my heart there is the fear that even with forever I won't be able to make him love me. A silly thing, really,” Antonie whispered.

“No, of course it isn't,” Patricia said.

“No? It is the only thing he does not offer me. He even speaks of faithfulness. To moan about what I do not have when I have so much is foolishness. It is the sort of thinking that will make things worse."

“How so?"

“Because I will get bitter, eh? It is not his fault! He never asked it of me. To blame him because I gave love and did not get any back is not right. He is not without feeling for me."

“That is certainly true. You should have seen him when you'd left him. It only made it worse that it was really his own fault."

"Sí.
It was.” She grinned when Patricia giggled. “He should have told me, but he knows that, so it is forgotten."

“I'm not so sure he will forget,” Patricia said quietly. “Or forgive himself for being at least partly responsible for your ordeal. You came too close to being horribly tortured. That is something that is not so easy to forget."

“Ah, well, I will work on that. I never told him what Raoul was like. I knew. I knew, too, that Royal, even Cole, did not. Maybe they did not listen to the stories about Raoul. They are hard to believe. Royal could not know what would happen to me. Also, Tomás and I did not take care. That was very foolish, and we paid for it. Always we have watched and been careful. Not that time."

“You were upset."

“That is no excuse. If we had done as we were taught—and taught so well—I think I would not have been caught and Tomás would not have been shot. I would not have been brought so close to such a horrible death. It is my lesson, and I am not one to forget such a lesson."

Watching Patricia closely and recalling the conversation she had had earlier with Oro, Antonie asked gently, “And now that I speak of lessons, tell me,
chica,
have you and that fool Oro made love yet?"

Although she gasped, then blushed deeply, Patricia shook her head. “His leg, you know. Riding out like he did set him back some."

“He must be getting—how you say—very grumpy."

Patricia giggled. “Very. Though, I catch him looking at me funny sometimes."

Antonie laughed. “He is thinking of what I said once, but I see he did not really listen. Now I will tell you."

When Patricia left, Antonie snuggled down into her bed and laughed softly. Patricia had been very embarrassed, but also very fascinated. Oro was in for a big surprise. Although Patricia's cheeks had still been bright red when she left, there had been a determined glint in her eyes. Antonie felt just a little bit jealous. Patricia and Oro would be loving each other tonight while she was stuck in her bed with only
El Magnifico
for company. And he snored, she thought with a wry smile.

She firmly told herself not to be silly. In a way, Royal was right. This small period of deprivation would add something to their wedding night, make it a little special. They had been lovers too long to act or feel like newlyweds, but at least they could have the enjoyment of the return of something they had both sorely missed. It would be almost as good, maybe better.

Yawning, Antonie let approaching sleep overtake her. The talk with Patricia had helped. She had faced the fear she had not really known she had. Although she had not conquered it, she could now view it with some sense of acceptance. It would no longer secretly gnaw at her. Perhaps, one day, she might even be able to laugh at it.

Briefly, Antonie wondered if Patricia was right. Maybe she should admit her love to Royal. She shook her head. If nothing else, she could well be burdening him with guilt because he could not return her feelings and she would be hurt. No, she decided as sleep exerted its irresistible pull, that would be a secret she would hold onto for a while longer. Perhaps luck would be with her and one day she would be free to surround Royal with her love and speak of it freely.

Twenty-six

Antonie found it hard to believe that in one hour she would stand before a preacher with Royal. She still remembered the talk she and Royal had had, word for word. Despite her immersion in the wedding preparations she felt a sense of disbelief. She supposed she would not fully believe it until the words were said.

She stared down at the three headstones in the small family graveyard. Soon she would be part of this permanence. Never again would she be in a different place every night, or call home the small village where Juan had been born only because he stopped there a little more often than he did anywhere else. Here would be a true home. Here she and Royal would live, have children, grow old together, and die. It was a thought that was both comforting and frightening. Such permanence would take adjusting to.

Suddenly, she tensed, her hand slipping through the concealed slits in her skirts to grasp the knife strapped to her thigh. She wondered who was creeping up on her even before she heard the soft rustle of a footstep. With a lithe grace not at all hindered by her pregnancy, she whirled around even as she drew her knife. Crouched and ready to fight or throw her knife, she faced a tall, young man whose forest green eyes widened as he raised his arms in a gesture of surrender.

“Easy, honey,” he said. “Easy now. I'm not meaning you any harm. Phew. Never seen a woman move like that."

“What are you doing here?” she demanded as she signaled for him to toss his guns to her. “Slow and easy,
señor."

“Hell, lady, I'm not going to hurt a woman,” he grumbled even as he very carefully pulled his gun from its holster.

“Not now, eh?” She picked up the gun he tossed her way. “I asked what you are doing here."

“That's a long story. Look, does a desperado lug his kid around with him?"

Her eyes widened when he took a very careful step to the side. A basket was on the ground just behind him. Two small arms waved in the air, the tiny hands trying to grab the leaves moving gently overhead. Still keeping an eye on the man, she edged closer to peer inside the basket at the infant shaded by the tree it fruitlessly reached for.

“Boy or girl?” she asked as she sheathed her knife.

“Boy. His name's Camden. My gun?"

“Not yet,
señor."

“Not very trusting, are you."

“No. There has been much trouble here. It is over, I think, but...” she shrugged.

“That trouble killed the elder Bancrofts?"

"Sí."
She frowned, for there was grief in his eyes, a deep grief no stranger or casual friend would feel. “Not their son. That was the war.” She smiled when the baby grasped her finger. “Strong. His mother?"