Читать книгу The Bride Ran Away - Anna Adams - Страница 9

“ARE YOU—” Ian broke off, aware of their audience. Had Sophie just agreed to start over? In silence broken only by the squeak of the weather vane slowly revolving on her father’s tin roof, he stared from Molly to Ethan to Zach. They eyed him and then looked at one another.

Ethan recovered first. “Sophie, I want to send this guy to the hospital right now, but think a minute. Maybe he’s talking sense.”

With a pained expression, she closed her eyes and Ian stifled an urge to laugh. He’d flown to Bardill’s Ridge, convinced he’d lose her for good the second a Calvert laid a loving hand on her. Instead, her family was driving her toward him.

Ethan glared at him in a not-so-veiled warning before he went on. “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d fought harder to keep my family together. Sophie, your mother was unhappy. I never wanted to hear about that. All that mattered to me was that she’d cheated on me and done it recklessly enough for you to find out.” His face reddened. “At least listen to Ian, if he’s this serious about trying to make your marriage work. I’m not asking anything more of you.” Ethan wrapped an arm around his niece. “Come on, Mol. Zach, why don’t we give these two some privacy?” He herded them toward the patrol car. “Soph, use the house. I’ll be in my shop.” He paused, his boot heel scraping through the gravel as he eyed Ian with unmistakable threat. “Where I’ll hear if you yell for me, Sophie.”

“I don’t need to talk.” Sophie looked like her father, gazing at Ian with mistrust.

“Your child’s dad disagrees.” Ethan tossed the reminder over his shoulder as he continued to assist Zach and Molly to their car. “But you shout and I’ll be with you in a heartbeat.” He nodded at Ian. “Toting my power tools.”

Ian nodded, a sign of respect. In Ethan Calvert’s place, he’d also wonder if he was handing Sophie over to the devil.

“How do we know we’re not forcing her into a bigger mistake?” Molly twisted free of her uncle’s hold. “He might not be a decent guy.”

Sophie planted herself beyond anyone’s reach. “Thank you, everyone, but don’t worry about me. I’ve made all the mistakes I plan to.” Her glance stabbed Ian. “And I’m perfectly capable of making him see sense one last time.”

Molly studied Ian’s face as if she saw all the way into his mind. Finally she turned to her cousin. “Do what you really want. Don’t just think about how good it would feel to throw him out today. Imagine how you’ll feel when you look back—and remember how I grew up. My parents pleased themselves, and I got to pick up the pieces.”

Ian had heard the stories about Molly’s father and then her mother leaving town without her.

“Let’s go, Zach.” Molly tugged her other cousin’s sleeve. Then, with second thoughts in her eyes, she hugged Sophie, who focused a dazed smile on her cousin before Molly stepped back. “And—” she pitched her voice low “—I’m available for that ‘bad girl’ talk as soon as you need it.”

Zach took his turn, going toe-to-toe with Ian. “Sophie may technically be my cousin, but she’s more like a sister. No one hurts her. No one.”

Ian had looked into Zach’s mysterious past, too. He hadn’t been unable to uncover where the sheriff had learned the martial arts he’d used to disarm a bank robber. He hadn’t gotten to the bottom of the silence Zach kept about his military training. But as he met the other man’s belligerent eyes, Molly’s advice about considering the future echoed in his head.

She was pretty smart. Hurting Sophie’s cousin Zach might feel satisfactory in the extremely short run, but a family feud and his own eventual guilt wouldn’t further his cause. “I’m glad Sophie can count on you.”

The words nearly stuck in his throat, and Zach’s expression called him a liar. It also promised to follow up, but he let Molly drag him back to his car. Still watching, he started the engine and backed out.

Only Ethan remained, reluctant now to leave them alone. He curved an arm around his daughter, ignoring her stiffness. “How do you feel?”

“I’m fine.” Exhaustion weakened her tone. She leaned away from him. “I know about pregnancy. It’s my job.”

“In theory. You’ve never been pregnant before. You’re taking care of yourself?”

“Absolutely.” Relenting, she sank against him. “I don’t want you to worry.”

“I won’t.”

His obvious lie touched an unexpected chord of loss in Ian. Sophie’s family might meddle, but they mattered to each other. He tried to imagine Ethan Calvert telling his daughter he couldn’t make her wedding because he had an appointment to pick up some specialty wood for a new project he was building.

Couldn’t possibly happen.

“Come on, Ian. Let’s get this over with.” Sophie led the way across ragged brown grass to the clapboard house that had once been her home.

“Sophie,” her father called. Urgency edged his voice.

Ian turned back with her. Ruddy color painted Ethan’s face again as the wind whipped his graying hair. He hooked his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, turning his booted feet inward. “I know you aren’t like your mom. I got scared for you.”

To Ian’s surprise, Sophie’s expression hardened. Aiming a level nod at her father, she opened the door and waited for Ian to enter ahead of her. Feeling a little sorry for Ethan Calvert, he glanced back. With the door in a death grip and her face twisted in fierce concentration, Sophie looked like a woman in pain.

“Damn.” She let go of the doorknob with such emphasis the door flew open. “Hold on.”

He smiled at her disappearing back, but turned away so she could make up with her dad in privacy. He hunched to avoid slamming his head into the low door frame.

Inside, a wood stove stood unlit at one end of the cold living room. Family photos decorated the opposite wall. Ian resisted an urge to look for pictures of Sophie. Though he was curious, she’d think he was pretending to be an attentive husband.

A fine layer of dust covered every surface. Ian peered through the open door at the brittle grass growing unevenly around patches of dry dirt. Sophie hadn’t lived here in a long while. Her town house offered a little clutter, but plenty of welcome. This wasn’t her kind of place. Images of her growing up in an atmosphere of neglect made him uneasy.

She sprang up the single step to the threshold, hiding red-rimmed eyes the second she saw him. “Do you want coffee? Something to eat? Dad said Gran dropped off a cake yesterday.” She closed the door, and the room grew dim in the sparse light through the darkened window.

“You’re hungry?” he asked.

“I’m from the South. Our first instinct in any crisis is to feed the victims. Besides, Gran is the queen of chocolate cake bakers, and making coffee for you and Dad will give me something to do with my hands.”

And allow her to keep her back to him while she regained her composure. “What else did your father say?”

She led him down a narrow hall that seemed to shrink around them. “He thinks I waited until too late before I worried about trusting you.” They reached a kitchen as bright as the rest of the little house was dim. Wide, clean windows opened to the sun on three sides of the room. “I didn’t tell him the whole truth about what happened at the wedding.”

He tried to look indifferent. No one had ever protected him before, and he didn’t deserve it now. “I appreciate your caution.” He couldn’t seem to produce a simple thanks.

“Dad has a lot of tools that could harm a man if he got really upset.”

Ian couldn’t hold back a smile. “I’ll try not to make him any angrier.” Her wry mood made her seem more familiar. “How about you, Sophie? Are you ready to forgive me and start over?”

She turned, coffee can in hand. “I don’t forgive lies—even lies of omission—easily, and I won’t forget. Be honest with me from now on, Ian.”

From now on? He felt as if she’d punched him, but he crossed the room before he realized he’d moved. “What are you saying?” He took the coffee can because he wanted to touch her, but held back. “We stay married? We go on with our plans from before?”

“We didn’t make plans.” She loaded a filter into the coffeepot, then took the can back. “Another mistake—and not one I think you and I ever made before we knew each other.”

He nodded. “Normally, I like to know where I am, what to expect—how to minimize the risks. You made me forget the rules.”

“Same here. I’ve planned my career since—” She stopped, and he wondered what she didn’t want him to know. Her eyes glittered as if tears lay in them. Her scent, flavored by sun and mountain wind, emanated from the top of her head, enticing him. “I always ticked off the steps on my lists before I met you.” She busied herself with the coffee. “Let’s make rules this time. I stay out of trouble when I understand the boundaries.”

“What rules?” What more could he give up?

“I’m moving here.” She peeled off the coffee can’s plastic lid, still without looking at him. “I see you’re serious, but living here is part of the deal. This is a good place to raise children, safer than D.C. or Chicago. And my family is here. I want my child to know family the way I did.”

“I thought you grew up in D.C.”

“Partly. I stayed with my mom in the summers after she and Dad divorced, and I went to school at Georgetown and Johns Hopkins.” She ran water into the glass carafe. “But my best times were here with my dad and my cousins and my grandparents. I want to come home before I have the baby.”

Sacrificing his job should have been enough. “I either come with you or take a divorce and visitation?”

She nodded, finally looking at him. “I’m willing to try, but there’s no point in staying married if we aren’t going to work at it.”

When she widened her green eyes like that, he tended to believe his whole world lay in them, but he wouldn’t pretend he could let her push him around. “I’ll eventually have to take another assignment. How am I going to find work from here?”

“Exactly.” She poured water into the coffee-maker’s well and dropped the lid. “So you’ll travel as often as you do now. My family will help me with the baby.” She slid the carafe onto the warmer and switched on the machine. “You could even be killed.”

Her pragmatism almost hurt. Maybe his death would affect her more if it actually happened.

“I’ll work at our marriage, Ian. You know I want to be with you, but I let myself forget the important things before. And our baby is important—more than I am, more than you are.” She shrugged, her skin flushing as if she’d confessed too much. “Besides, my grandmother is about to retire. I asked her if I could join her at the baby farm, but she needs to know I’m staying.”

“For good?” He looked around. The kitchen was nice, but the rest of the small, stagnant house, with its close-set walls, contained only so much oxygen. “You’re asking me to surround myself with people who think I’ve ruined your life.”

“I’m forcing you to become part of my family.”

She stared at his hands, and he realized he was rubbing his finger, the one that had never set properly after his father had broken it during an argument. Ian had thrown up his hand to defend himself, and instead ended up with a lifelong memory of an idiotic argument and his father’s demand for submission.

Just like then, he had no choice now.

“They’ll be your family, too.” Surprising him, she covered his hand, including his broken finger. “Give them a chance and time.”

He pulled away and shoved both hands into his pockets. “What do you really want?”

“You can take me at face value.” Clearly puzzled, she opened a cabinet and took down a tall glass and a mug. “I told you I want to live here, partly because of your work. I want to come home, anyway, but if we’re staying together, it makes sense to be where my family can help with the baby. My job is demanding, too.”

“You obviously made the decision before you thought about staying with me. This is an ultimatum.”

“I am moving home. I—need…” She closed her mouth, making a seam of her lips as if she had to gather strength to utter the word. “Help. And that won’t change if you and I are married.”

Anger grabbed him by the throat. Only his father had ever dictated to him. He tried to say no—to suggest their child wouldn’t be the first to divide time between divorced parents.

But his own confusing childhood stood in his way. How could he consider shuttling his son or daughter between houses without trying to create a family home?

Sophie was right about the Calverts. They’d help her when he had to work. And her grandmother was growing older. A new physician at the baby farm made sense. Sophie at the baby farm made sense. Worst of all, if he refused, he’d be doing it to prove his manhood. To himself.

He’d lost all his options the day Sophie’s pregnancy test came up positive. Now he had to live with the consequences—and maybe make something good out of them. Maybe make a real family and a real home for his child.

“When do you want to move?” He stripped his tone to the bare words—no emotion. That was safer.

“As soon as I transfer my practice to another doctor. While I’m arranging that, you can pack up in Chicago—or put things in storage in case we don’t make it. Whatever you want to do.”

Her expression was innocent even as she suggested their marriage remained a trial relationship. He left the bait where she’d cast it. Time would prove him honest.

“We’ll pack you up first,” he said. “I don’t want you doing all that work on your own.”

“I know what I’m capable of physically.” She took two sliding steps down the counter, movements she was obviously repeating from the past. She lifted the lid on a round, plastic container and stared, struck dumb, at a rich chocolate cake. “That looks—” her throat worked as she swallowed “—good.”

He wanted badly to laugh, and he envied that cake her besotted admiration. She pushed it away with the tips of her fingers. He crossed to the counter and pulled it back. “Take some.” When Sophie gave in to temptation, she gave all and then some. She was irresistible.

“I wish I could say no, but I’ll eat my fair share.” Flashing a pained smile, she took down two plates and served cake on both. But she denied herself even a bite of the moist chocolate while she poured a glass of milk and a cup of coffee.

He watched, seduced. It was all part of the dance. She wanted the cake. It was in reach, but she controlled her appetites. He lifted his mug, determined to remind her of other days and other delicacies. “No more champagne?”

Her blush looked like sunburn. They’d sipped champagne from the hollows of each other’s bodies. “No more,” she said, her voice liquid. “Until we learn how to talk to each other with our mouths.”

He stared at hers, remembering the silky touch of those full lips, the delicious taste of her. “I like the way you use words already.”

She picked up his mug and her glass, leaving a splash of milk that betrayed her trembling hand. He tore a paper towel from a fat roll and wiped up the spill behind her.

“You’re the one who said we did everything backward.” She set both drinks on the table. “This time we’ll learn about each other. We can’t go on having sex until we suddenly wake up and can’t stand being in the same room.”

He frowned, understanding she wasn’t just declaring a moratorium on champagne. “Being more conventional won’t keep us from making more mistakes, and I didn’t say I hated the—”

“Sex? I want more than just sex, Ian.” She pulled back a hard wooden chair and sat, staking territory. “If you can’t live with waiting until we’re both sure we want to be married, we’d better both call lawyers.”

Anger rolled over him again, but it was about time he learned to control his emotions around Sophie. “Go softly. I know you think I tricked you into this marriage, but playing house won’t help us. I want a wife for myself and a mother for my son.”

“Or daughter,” she said. “And I have to know we can be more than lovers.”

“I tried to hide cold feet because I was afraid I’m the worst thing that could happen to you.” Maybe she’d heard all the evidence she needed, but her low opinion of him still hurt. “You meant more to me than the time we spent in bed, but at least it was a connection.”

She glared at him. “I don’t trust the way we felt.”

It was useless to argue. “How long do you see us living as housemates?”

“I’m trying to be your wife.” She lifted her chin. “Because you cared enough to quit your job. And… I didn’t…” She stopped, her gaze wavering with doubt, but then she seemed to gather strength. “I didn’t think about our baby when I left you.” She breathed as hard as if she’d run a couple of marathons. “My mom never seemed to realize I was as important as her dates, and I always thought if I had children, I’d put them first.”

“You aren’t your mother. You aren’t anyone but you.”

“Don’t try to make me feel better. I don’t need comfort. I only want to hear the promises you can keep.”

She sounded as if he’d lied to her all along, instead of making one nearly catastrophic slip. “Why’d you agree to marry me in the first place? Don’t you respect me at all?”

“This isn’t a matter of respect.” She finally speared a bite of cake, but her lust for chocolate had lost its effect on him. “You say you want to be with me, but you could meet someone you really care for. I want to know where I stand with you at all times.”

His wife had funny ideas about marriage. “Why would I marry you and keep my options open for another woman?”

She stared until all he could see was the open, earnest expression that had rendered him stupid in her grandfather’s apple orchard last fall. “I don’t seem to make sense anymore.” She opened her mouth. The fork and the piece of cake slid between her moist red lips.

Ian gripped the sides of his chair, his muscles shaking with his effort at control. He wanted to pull her onto this table and touch her until she turned back into the woman he’d known.

At last she swallowed her bite. “I told you what I need. Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

“I’m not crazy about rules, but I’m afraid I’ll lose you if I argue.”

“You’re afraid you’ll lose the baby.”

A mixture of temper and frustration with her absolute blindness pushed him. “If that’s the way you want it. Would you have married me if you weren’t pregnant?”

Her game face cracked, and she shook her head from side to side, pain bruising her eyes. Her blond hair tangled in messy strands over her shoulders.

“I believed we’d make it work until I heard you tell Jock you had no choice about marrying me.” She flattened her hands on either side of her plate. “Who wants to hear on her wedding day that she was an entry in the groom’s to-do list?”

Anguish threaded her voice and drew him to his knees at her side. He wrapped his arms around her, elbowing the plate out of his way. “I never meant what you heard. I was afraid I’d hurt you, but if I could take it back, I would.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, breathing in her sexy, clean scent, sliding his mouth over her lustrous hair. “I don’t talk like this. I’ve never let anyone mean so much to me that I can’t walk away, but, Sophie, I’m trying to walk toward you, if you’ll just let me.”

She dashed tears from her eyes and pried her damp hair away from her cheeks. She looked weary down to the fine bones of her strained face.

He finally understood her fear. She was trying to protect herself and their child, and she believed he’d betrayed her.

“You’re worth whatever I have to do,” he said.

Her mouth was straight and thin, and the loss of joy she’d worn back in that orchard wounded him. “I’ve never trusted anyone who lied to me the first time.”

He stroked her shoulder and then passed her the glass of milk. “I won’t hide anything from you again.”

“Good.” She looked into the glass as if she was reading a murky crystal ball and then set it down. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Immediately he rose, his hands clenched. He hated feeling helpless. “What can I do?”

“Wait here and don’t bust into the bathroom to help.”

He nodded as she stood, growing paler by the second. All the life in this small house seemed to follow her when she left the kitchen.

Mindful of his promise to stay out, he washed their dishes. He was drying the last fork when Ethan Calvert knocked briefly and entered the house.

“Soph?”

“Back there.” Ian assumed she didn’t want her father’s help either. “You should probably wait.”

Ethan searched him suspiciously. “What’d you do now?”

He couldn’t blame the man. “She’s in the bathroom. Morning sickness.”

Ethan grabbed the back of the nearest chair. “Let me promise again I will kill you if you hurt my daughter. And if you get yourself killed and leave her stranded with a child, I’m still coming after you.”

Ian tried not to laugh. Ethan was serious, and Sophie would be better off if he and her father got along. “I was trying to take care of her when I married her.”

“I wouldn’t say that too loudly.” Ethan glanced over his shoulder. “She’s pissed off with you for doing right by her.”

“I know.”

“Doing the right thing isn’t enough.” Ethan released the chair. Out of habit, Ian kept an eye on his restless, angry hands. “My daughter deserves better.”

“I know.” And he’d begged forgiveness in every humiliating way he could think of. Ian wanted to ask Ethan what made Sophie so unwilling to offer a second chance. Just in time, he remembered Sophie was his wife, not a subject who’d hired him to protect her. Grilling her father about her personality wasn’t permissible. “I’m serious about our marriage and this baby.”

“I remember what her mother’s and my divorce did to her, and I don’t want her to feel responsible for creating a long-distance relationship between her child and you if she cared enough to marry you in the first place.” Ethan came around the table, taking the dish towel from Ian’s hand. “But I’ll be watching you, and I’m not forgiving like Sophie.”

Forgiving? Sophie? Not even her father knew her. “You have nothing to worry about, sir.”

“Why are you worried, Dad?”

Ian turned, and Ethan jumped guiltily.

“Dad, were you threatening my husband?”

“Absolutely,” Ethan said.

She rolled her eyes. Her smile trembled in a pale face, but she met Ian’s gaze with a hint of her old joy. “He’s probably serious.”

“I assume he is.”

She went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. “I’ve held enough of a grudge for both of us, Dad.”

Ethan moved past Ian to put his arm around her. “Take the time to figure out what you feel for him.”

She wrenched the cap off the bottle and stared at Ian as she sipped. He felt like a patient she suspected of malingering. Turning, she rubbed her hand across her belly, provoking a surge of possessiveness that startled him. “Anger is no tool for starting a family.”

Ian bit the inside of his cheek. He could have pointed out her mistaken assumptions about his motives. But with both Calverts staring at him as if he’d stolen a family heirloom, it seemed smarter to just shut up.