Читать книгу Suddenly Reunited - Loree Lough - Страница 9

The moment he reached the end of the winding drive, he noticed Triumph, still saddled and grazing beside the barn. The beast seemed content enough, as though the dirt on his forelegs and withers didn’t bother him at all. But Drew knew better. This was a persnickety horse that appreciated a thorough grooming after a hard ride.

What was Gabrielle thinking? he demanded silently. Frowning, he followed up with an equally regretful thought: she hadn’t been thinking of anything or anyone but herself lately.

Dismounting, Drew strode over to where Triumph stood, ran an ungloved hand over the horse’s behind. The horse had been sweating hard—that much was evident by the thin crust of grit stuck to his coat—but he’d been home long enough to cool down.

Doesn’t make a lick of sense, Drew thought, shaking his head. Gabrielle did have a tendency to get sidetracked, especially in conversations and menial tasks, but he knew better than most how she felt about animals. For her to have left Triumph in this condition could only mean one thing.

Something had happened to her.

The image of her, unconscious, cold and alone, unprotected in the wilderness, flashed through his mind. It was autumn, a dangerous time of year. Cougars were on the prowl, as were grizzlies and black bears looking to fatten themselves up for winter’s long hibernation. And contrary to city-folk myth, the hairy beasts much preferred fresh meat to wild berries and tree roots.

Heart pounding, he raced toward the house, making plans as he went: call the sheriff, and while the man rounded up a search party, Drew would get down on his knees and pray like he’d never prayed before. Because he loved her. Loved her like crazy. Had from the moment he first set eyes on her, would ’til he drew his last breath. Legal separation papers couldn’t change that fact.

He exploded into the kitchen, not noticing or caring that he’d slammed the door against the wall.

“Drew Cunningham,” she said in a loving, wifely voice, “how many times have I told you that isn’t the way a gentleman enters a room?”

His relief was so great, he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He wanted to throw his arms around her. But they were legally separated, and she might resent an action like that.

He stood there for what seemed like a full minute, one hand on the brass knob, blinking, swallowing, thanking God.

And then he started noticing little things.

Things like the fact that her hair was still damp from a recent shower, and Gabrielle hated wet hair, especially when it was cool outside—and the temperature hadn’t gotten above forty so far today.

And she was wearing the outfit he liked so well, the one he’d bought her in Bozeman last July, when they’d gone into town for dinner. She hadn’t taken it with her when she left. Hadn’t taken anything he’d given her when she left. Tiny as she was, Gabrielle caught a chill quicker than anyone he could name. So why would she be wearing a sleeveless summer dress and strappy little sandals on a day like this?

She turned back to the stove, lifted the lid of the saucepan in one hand, picked up a giant stirring spoon with the other. She looked so good, so right standing there, as if she’d never left. A sob ached in his throat.

Drew bit his lower lip to still its trembling, took off his hat and scrubbed a leather-gloved hand over his face. “Thank You, Jesus,” he whispered. “Praise God.”

“What’s that, honey?” she asked distractedly.

His head snapped up in response to the endearment. Honey? She hadn’t called him that in…

In more than nine months.

Was this some sort of trick? Some stunt her big-city lawyer had dreamed up to get her a bigger piece of Walking C pie? He felt the heat rising in him, and clamped his teeth together. His own attorney had advised him not to say anything he might be sorry for later. It should have enraged him, that she’d waltzed in here as though nothing had happened, expecting him to like it. But all he could feel was gratitude. If she was toying with him, he didn’t care.

She’d almost gotten the better of him.

Almost, he thought, but not quite.

“What’re you doing here?”

She shot him an Are you kidding? grin. “I’m polishing my toenails,” she teased. After enjoying a girlish giggle at her own joke, Gabrielle added, “So, did you get the back fences repaired?”

The back fences? He tucked in his chin. He’d fixed those last fall.

She faced him then, and when she did, her long, luxurious auburn hair swung around her shoulders, wide gray eyes sparkling with…with love, just the way they had before she’d called it quits.

But wait just a minute here…what’s she up to, anyway? “Triumph is out behind the barn,” he began, taking care to keep a civil tone in his voice, “still saddled. Looks like he had himself one wild ride this morning.”

Her pale eyes darkened, reminding him of the storm clouds he’d seen over Beartooth earlier that morning.

“What! Someone rode him, then just left him standing there, saddle and all?” Gabrielle narrowed her eyes. “What kind of cretin would mistreat an animal that way?”

She rested both fists on her hips—on her shapely, womanly hips. Get hold of yourself, Cunningham, Drew warned himself.

Gabrielle was still frowning when she said, “If I get hold of the guy who—”

She seemed genuinely angry, which made no sense. No sense at all. “Gabby,” he interrupted, frowning, “you’re the guy, er, gal who had Triumph out this morning.”

She rolled her eyes and grinned. “Oh, Drew,” she said lightly, “you’re such a big tease! You know I’d never leave him saddled and ungroomed. I love that big bully!”

Tilting her head, she blinked flirtatiously. “Do you know what day this is?” she asked on a soft sigh.

“’Course I do.” He switched the hat from his left hand to his right. “It’s Saturday.”

“No, silly,” she said, sauntering nearer. “The date.”

Something warned him to take a step back, to keep his distance from this beautiful, sexy woman who, until nine months ago, had been his lawfully wedded wife. Instead, Drew planted his boots on the wide-planked kitchen floor, determined to stand his ground. This was his house, after all.

Until she left him, he’d considered everything that had been his just as much hers. But all that changed the morning she had the sheriff deliver the documents that said otherwise. This whole divorce thing was as ridiculous as it was unnecessary, because if she’d listened to his explanation about that night—

Smiling happily, she gave him a playful shove. “It’s our two-month anniversary, you insensitive boob. Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to ply me with greeting cards and gifts for every month we’re together.” She took another step toward him, grabbed the lapels of his jacket. “But I do expect you to enjoy the supper I’ve made to celebrate this one.”

Two months? Drew had never considered himself the sensitive type who wrote poems and counted the weeks since their marriage, but they’d been married only slightly over nine months when she left, and she’d been gone a little longer than that. Drew knew, because he’d been counting those days.

If she hadn’t run off like a spoiled brat, they’d be celebrating a year of marriage soon instead of a couple of months! What is she trying to pull, pretending that she thinks—

It took him completely by surprise, the way she stepped right up and slipped her arms around him the way she would have before that awful night. It felt so good, having her this close, that Drew ignored the warning voice in his head, and buried his face in her mass of damp, chestnut curls. Eyes closed, he inhaled deeply. She even smelled wonderful.

“So, did you miss me while you were off riding the range?”

He heard the smile in her voice, felt the heat of her breath against his shirt. Did he miss her! Does Santa Claus have a weight problem? “Yeah,” he heard himself saying, “I missed you.” I’ve missed you like crazy, he added silently. For the time being, it didn’t matter what game she was playing—if, indeed, she was playing a game.

Maybe, just maybe, she’d changed her mind. True, she’d always been impulsive, but could she really be coming back to take up right where she left off, as if nothing had ever happened? One of her greatest assets was also her biggest flaw: she was a proud woman, intent on saving face at any cost, especially if she believed she was in the wrong.

Dear God in heaven, Drew prayed, closing his eyes, let that be what’s going on here, let her have come back home to stay. If that’s the case, I promise to make it up to her for what I did.

Gabrielle took a half step back, but without releasing him from her hug. “Are you hungry?”

He couldn’t tear his gaze from her face. The Lord had outdone Himself when He made this one. Drew thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He swallowed, licked his lips. “Guess I could pack away a helping or two,” he said instead.

“It’s lasagna.” She kissed his chin. “Just the way you like it. Easy on the mozzarella, extra ricotta cheese.” She stood on tiptoes to press a longer kiss to his cheek before settling back onto her heels. “I’m afraid I didn’t get you a present, though,” she said, running a hand through her thick curls. “Which is strange, because I could have sworn I had bought you a shirt—”

She had given him a shirt to celebrate their two-month anniversary. He’d worn it so often since she’d left that it was getting threadbare at the elbows and cuffs.

He grabbed her wrist and, frowning at her forehead, said, “Grandma’s gravy, Gabrielle! What have you gone and done to yourself?”

Shrugging, she put her fingertips to the bump on her temple. “Oh, that.” A slight flush colored her cheeks. “It’s nothing. Really. I clunked my head when I fell.”

She stopped talking so suddenly, Drew wondered if maybe something had stuck in her throat. “When you fell?”

Her smile faded and she stepped out of the embrace, leaving a cold, empty space where her warmth had been. “Wait a minute,” she began pensively, a forefinger in the air, “I think you’re right, Drew.” Brow furrowed, she began to pace. “I think…I think it was me who took Triumph out. I seem to remember—”

She slumped, trembling, onto a kitchen chair. Her lower lip began to quiver, the way it always did when she fought tears.

Drew got down onto one knee, turned her to face him. “Shh,” he soothed, “it’s okay.” He pulled her close. “You’re okay, and Triumph is a big strong critter. He’s no worse for the wear. I’ll go out in a bit and give him a good brushing.”

Tears were swimming in her eyes when she looked into his. “But…but it’s my responsibility. How could I have forgotten something as important as that?” She bit her bottom lip, then glanced toward the window, shaking her head. “I—I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Drew.”

She grabbed his shoulders. “How long do you think he’s been out there like that?”

He shrugged, torn between comforting her and protecting himself from whatever her lawyer had put her up to. “Couple of hours, from the looks of things.”

She sighed heavily. “Poor thing, standing around in that heavy saddle all this time, all dirty and sweaty. He must think I don’t give a hoot about him!”

Drew tugged off his gloves, tossed them onto the table and moved her hair aside to get a better look at the injury. “Shoo-ee. That’s some goose egg you’ve got there.”

“That’s what Troy said.”

“Troy?”

She nodded. “He picked me up on Highway 2-12, although I honestly don’t remember how I got there.”

Drew decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. She deserved that much. It had hurt like crazy when she’d given him that tongue-lashing the night she walked out. It wasn’t the angry words; nothing she said could ever be as painful as the plain fact that she’d left.

Comforting Gabrielle won out in the battle between protecting her or protecting himself. “Shh,” he said again. “You had a bad fall. That’s the beginning and the end of it.”

As though she hadn’t heard him, Gabrielle said, “Never stopped me from doing my job before.”

“Why are you always so hard on yourself? It wasn’t your fault Triumph threw you.” Lovingly, he tucked her hair behind her ears. “What made him buck?”

She rolled her eyes in frustration. “I’ve tried and tried to remember. Near as I can tell, a snake spooked him. When I came to, there was a dead—”

“Gabby!” Drew interrupted, giving her a gentle shake. “A rattlesnake?” He made a move as if to begin inspecting her, starting with her fingers.

“Relax, Drew,” she said, smiling sweetly. “From the looks of things, Triumph pounded that snake into the dust long before he had a chance to do either of us any harm.” A little giggle popped from her lips. Cuddling both of his hands beside her cheeks, she tilted her head to add, “My hero!”

“Joke all you want,” Drew said, standing. “I’m just relieved you’re all right.”

Sighing, Gabrielle got to her feet, too.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, as she headed for the stove.

“Turning down the oven so I’ll have time to take care of Triumph before supper,” she said. As if to punctuate the statement, Gabrielle staggered, and reached out for something to steady herself.

Drew let himself be that “something.” And once she’d regained her balance, he took her hand in his. “Come over here where the light is better,” he said, leading her to the window.

“Yes, Doctor,” she said lightly.

But Gabrielle followed, he noted, and stood quietly as he examined the lump, peered into her eyes. “Your pupils are so dilated I can barely tell what color your eyes are.” He headed for the door. “Get your coat. We’re going to the emergency room.”

She emitted a little gasp that made him want to wrap her in a reassuring hug.

“Don’t be silly,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I’m fine.”

You’re good, honey, he thought, real good. And if he didn’t know her better, he might just swallow that bowl of bravado she’d just dished out. But her usually rosy cheeks were pale, and there was a blue cast to her otherwise pink lips. He didn’t like the way she was weaving and bobbing around the kitchen like a boxer who’d given his all in the ring, either.

“I’m fine. Really.”

“How ’bout we let a doctor be the judge of that?”

“But Drew,” she protested, hanging back as he opened the door, “our romantic anniversary supper is almost ready. All I have to do is light the candles.” She glanced out the window. “And Triumph, he’s—”

He took a quick look around. Why hadn’t he noticed before that she’d set the dining room table with the good dishes and flatware? Why hadn’t he seen that she’d put the silver candlesticks in the middle of his grandma’s linen tablecloth? His heart swelled, knowing she’d gone to so much trouble for him—for them—in her condition.

But how had she accomplished it, swooning like a drunken sailor as she must have been? Stubbornness, he decided, doing his best to hide a grin.

“Besides,” she persisted, “the nearest hospital is an hour away, in Bozeman, and you gave the hands the day off, remember? So they could go to Oktoberfest? We can’t leave the Walking C unattended that long.”

Oktoberfest? But that was—

“We can,” he said, turning off the oven, “and we will.” He jammed the Stetson onto his head. “And I don’t want to hear another word about it.” He grabbed her fringed jacket from the peg behind the door and shook it a time or two, like a matador tempting a bull.

“How about a compromise?” she asked, as he helped her into it.

Drew held the door open, as she stepped onto the porch. The night she’d left, his inflexibility was just one of the things she’d claimed was driving her away. He remembered his prayer: if the Almighty would see to it that Gabrielle was home to stay, he’d do whatever it took to make everything up to her.

“What sort of compromise?”

“Take me to Livingston, instead, to see Doc Parker.”

“Okay,” he agreed, nodding. “That makes sense.” He touched a scolding finger to her nose. “But if he sees anything suspicious, anything at all, we’re heading straight to Bozeman.” Narrowing his eyes, he added, “Got it?”

She sent him a flirty half grin and kissed the tip of that finger. “Got it.”

Habit made him head for the pickup. And then he saw the car he’d bought the week before Gabrielle left him. He’d seen it on the lot weeks before the breakup and had thought how cute she’d look behind the wheel, how much easier it would be for her to get into and out of, especially when she got all gussied up in one of her short skirts and high heels….

Much to his surprise—and dismay—she’d taken one look at the vehicle and stomped into the house without saying a word. One week later, to the day, she left him…in that car.

More than likely, the doc would confirm Drew’s suspicion that Gabrielle had suffered a concussion. How mild or severe was yet to be seen, but getting into and out of his high-riding pickup wouldn’t be easy for her.

Sighing, Drew helped her into the passenger seat of the car. As he revved the motor, he tried to ignore the fact that both Triumph and Chum still stood outside the barn, saddled and bridled and ungroomed. First things first, he told himself, and Gabby would always be the most important earthly being in his life.

He tried even harder not to react when she slid across the front seat and rested her head on his shoulder. Without giving it a second thought, his right arm went around her. What had made her snuggle up the way she used to? Instinct? A need for protection? Love?

But another question rang even louder in his mind. And if curiosity had killed the cat, Drew figured, he was as good as gone. As much as he wanted to know what had brought Gabby home, he was even more curious to know if she planned to stay.

Kent Parker was an old-fashioned country doctor who didn’t believe in sugarcoating things—for patients or their families. So it worried Drew more than a little when the doctor said, “Step into my office. I want to have a word with you in private while Gabrielle gets herself dressed.”

Parker peeled off his latex gloves and tossed them unceremoniously into the nearest trash can. “Your wife will be fine, just fine. She’s suffered a pretty serious concussion, but after a few days of R and R, Gabby will be her ornery old self again.”

“That’s a relief—”

“Bu-u-ut,” the doctor added.

Drew ran a hand through his hair. For all its wide open spaces, Montana may as well have been Mayberry, U.S.A. Because there weren’t a whole passel of folks around, those that were around knew just about everything there was to know about one another. Except for Doc Parker: he knew more than most. And right now, he knew there was a lot on Drew’s mind.

“But,” Drew began, “it only solves one of my problems.” Absently, he stroked his chin. “Frankly, I’m not sure I know what ‘her old self’ is anymore.” Besides, he’d been given a second chance here, and didn’t want to blow it.

The older man dropped a fatherly hand on Drew’s shoulder. “When I heard you two had split up, it nearly broke my heart.” He gave the shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “But she’s back now, and that’s all that matters.”

Drew met the doctor’s clear blue eyes. “Not if she doesn’t remember leaving me.”

Drew had filled the doctor in on the conversation he’d had with Gabrielle in the kitchen earlier. Parker nodded understandingly and sat behind his battered wood desk. “Take a load off, son,” he instructed, gesturing toward a well-worn maroon leather wingback. Once Drew was settled, the doctor leaned back in his own big black chair and clasped his hands behind his gray-haired head. “Living in horse country, I’ve seen this kind of head injury before, too many times to count—and so have you. We both know it isn’t out of the ordinary for someone to temporarily lose a slice of memory when they’ve taken a good hard bump on the bean.”

Placing his Stetson on the seat of the empty chair beside him, Drew leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands. “That doesn’t answer my question,” he said to the floor. He met the doctor’s eyes and waited for an answer.

Shrugging one shoulder, Parker said, “Couple of hours, a few days, never…” He shook his head. “Wish I had a straight answer for you, Drew, but these things are iffy at best.” He lifted his white-bearded chin to ask, “Why is it so important to know when she’ll come around?”

Because, Drew answered silently, when she gets her memory back, she’s likely to leave again.

And he didn’t want that. Not now that he’d had another taste of what it felt like, being close to her, having her arms around him and her lips pressed to his.

“I brought you into this world thirty-two years ago, Drew Cunningham, so I know you better’n just about anybody in these parts. Now, out with it! What’s eating you?”

Gritting his teeth, Drew closed his eyes. “I don’t want to lose her again.” He felt like a man who’d been on death row for nearly a year, and had just gotten a call from the governor’s office.

Parker sat forward, linked his fingers on the green felt desk blotter. “What makes you think that’ll happen?”

He looked around the room and focused on Parker’s medical degrees, framed in black, hanging on the wall behind the desk. “Just—things…”

“The subconscious mind is a strange and miraculous thing, Drew, m’boy. Gabby didn’t go back to her apartment in Livingston after that knock on the noodle. She came straight back to the Walking C. What does that tell you?”

He grunted and scowled. “That she’s lost her ever-lovin’ mind?”

Chuckling, Parker aimed a stubby forefinger at Drew. “No need to act all brave and bad for the likes of me. I’m the man who stitched up your knobby knees when you were knee-high to a gopher, set your broken arm before you were ten. Gabrielle went to the Walking C ’cause, in her heart, that ranch is her home.”

A man can hope, Drew thought. Gabrielle had considered it home, until—

What had happened that night snaked through his mind, making him grimace. Right now, he’d give anything to undo what he’d done, or, at the very least, find a way to do it differently.

Gabrielle breezed into the room before Drew had a chance to verbalize his fears to Parker. “Why the long faces?” she asked. Grinning and wiggling her eyebrows, she added, “I’m not dying or anything, am I?”

Dying! The very thought made Drew’s heart beat double-time. He got to his feet. “Honestly, Gabby,” he complained, scowling, “sometimes your sense of humor leaves a lot to be desired.”

Her gray eyes widened and her smile dimmed. “Sawree,” she said emphatically. One hand beside her mouth, she aimed a loud whisper at Parker. “I take it you just gave him the bill?”

“No, he didn’t,” Drew answered in the doctor’s stead. Then added, “Why do you always tie everything to money?”

Lips narrowed, she raised her left eyebrow. “Maybe,” she began, hands on her hips, “because money is always on your mind!”

Now there’s the Gabrielle who left months ago, Drew said to himself.

“Now, now,” the doctor interrupted, hands raised in mock surrender. “Bickering isn’t going to do any of us any good, me in particular, since I’m such a sensitive soul and all.”

Drew shot him a Who do you think you’re kidding? look and said, “If there’s nothing else, I guess we’ll be on our way.” He thought of the fully saddled horses and groaned inwardly. “I have things to tend to when I get home.”

Gabrielle hung all eight fingertips from her bottom teeth. “Oh my goodness,” she gasped, “Triumph and Chum!”

Her anguish immediately diminished Drew’s ire. “Like I said before, they’re big ‘n’ strong—spoiled rotten, for the most part. It won’t kill them to wear their saddles a while longer, just this once.”

It did his heart good to see that his words eased her distress some. Maybe, if she were home to stay, he’d get a chance to find out what in blue blazes made her so all-fired hard on herself all the time.

Drew pressed a palm against the small of Gabrielle’s back to lead her out of Doc Parker’s office. The action reminded him of their wedding night, when he’d guided her in the very same way into their penthouse suite at that fancy hotel in Helena. Gritting his teeth, he touched a forefinger to the brim of his Stetson and snapped off a cowboy salute.

“Thanks, Doc.”

“Glad to be of service,” the older gent said as he walked them to the door. “Now, remember what I told you in the examining room, Gabby—take it easy for the next few days. And Drew, don’t forget to—”

“I put fresh batteries in the flashlight just this morning,” he assured. “And I’ll set the alarm for the checkups.”

He wondered how long it would be before she asked him to explain that last part of his conversation with Parker, and counted the seconds as they crossed the parking lot: five, four—as he opened the passenger door—three, two—as he helped her inside—one—

“Checkups?” she asked. “What kind of checkups?”

She was so intent on the question, and its answer, that she didn’t seem to notice that he’d fastened the seat belt for her. “You’re welcome,” he teased, grinning.

A glance at her furrowed brow told him Gabrielle hadn’t a clue what he was talking about. He slid in behind the steering wheel and poked the key into the ignition. “Doc says that for the next day and a half, I have to check your eyes every hour on the hour. If your pupils don’t constrict when the flashlight beam hits them, or if they’re not the same size, it’ll mean trouble, and I’m to get you to the hospital, stat.” He didn’t tell her the part about CAT scans and MRIs. No sense worrying her.

“Hospital? T-trouble?” she repeated, long lashes fluttering. “You mean—you mean as in…brain damage?”

Drew shook his head. The likelihood of that, Doc Parker had assured him, was slim to none. Drew’s main objective was to keep her calm. “I’m a little concerned about something—”

“Concerned?” She turned on the seat to face him. “Concerned about what?”

“Well…” he drawled.

She held her face in her hands. “Arghh, you can be so exasperating sometimes!”

“Doc never said how I’m supposed to tell the difference.”

“Difference? What difference? Drew, honestly, you’re giving me a headache.”

“Sorry,” he said, meaning it. Drew gave her hand a pat, then pulled into traffic.

“The difference?” she encouraged, as he merged into the fast lane.

“Between the crazy way you used to act and the way you’ve been behaving since you thumped your head.”

Her steely eyed glare was softened by a playful smile. “You’d better watch it, Drew Cunningham, or you’re going to be spending your two-month anniversary night on the couch!”

Drew stared straight ahead. Again with the two months, he thought.

If that was the case, the Almighty had answered his prayers. He’d given Drew a second chance, an opportunity to make it up to Gabrielle for the dreadful thing he’d done.

Thank You, Lord, he prayed, and I promise not to blow it this time.

Gabrielle insisted that Drew let her light the candles; he insisted she let him carry the lasagna-filled ironstone pan to the table. He served it up, as she held out the plates. And as the delicious aroma of the steaming pasta wafted into their nostrils, he wrapped her hand in his and uttered a short but heartfelt grace.

“Dear Lord, thank you for all our blessings, for this food, for the beautiful woman who prepared it.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for watching over my—my wife, for bringing her home to me, safe.” He cleared his throat, then said a gravelly “Amen.”

When he opened his eyes, he found Gabrielle staring at him.

“That was short and sweet,” she said, grinning as she flapped a napkin across her lap. “You’d think you were the one who bumped his head.” She leaned forward to give him a quick kiss on the lips. “I hope you didn’t forget how to say a proper blessing because you’re worried about me. Because I’m fine. Honest.”

She hadn’t been raised in a church-going household. He’d known that when he married her. It had been just one of the things he figured he could teach her…and one of the things that had caused conflict between them.

He focused on his plate so she wouldn’t read the concern in his eyes. “I’m not worried about you,” he said, knowing even as the words exited his lips that they weren’t true. “I’m starved, is all. Haven’t had a bite all day.”

“What! There wasn’t a scrap of bacon or a streak of egg yoke left on your plate when you left here this morning!”

The last time she’d made him a big country breakfast had been on the morning of the day she’d left him. But Doc Parker had warned Drew not to let Gabrielle get upset, and to remind her of that fact was sure to do just that. “Well,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “I haven’t had a bite lately.”

All through the rest of the meal, Gabrielle told him about how she’d heard a wolf howling that morning, even before the cock crowed. The candle glow shimmered on her ivory skin, made her bright gray eyes glitter like polished silver.

Oh, how he loved this vital, animated woman, and oh, how he’d missed her! Her zest for life was contagious. Before he’d met her, thanking the Good Lord for every sunrise was more a habit than anything else. But since meeting Gabrielle… Well, waking to find his beautiful, lively little wife cuddled up beside him had given him a whole new and glorious reason to thank God for each new day.

He looked into her eyes—eyes afire with the love of life. Did Gabrielle realize what she was doing? Did she understand that her sweet smiles, the love-light in her eyes, the way she rested her hand on his arm now and then, was awakening memories? Did she know that this candlelit dinner—prepared and served to celebrate the day they were wed—made him yearn for that blessed day, and that wonderful night?

Being with her again was, for Drew, like feeling the sunshine on his face after a winter of cold, dreary Montana weather. She was his rainbow after a thunderstorm, his home and his hearth and the love of his life. He was grateful to have her back, so grateful that he would make any promise, swear any oath, to ensure Gabrielle would never leave him again.

Was it an accident of fate, some curious coincidence, that her soft voice and gentle touch seemed to him a signal that meant she’d come home to stay? That she expected him always to be part of her life—welcomed, wanted, loved—despite the despicable things she’d accused him of?

She deserved a strong man. A good man.

God had blessed him with a good, strong body, and in gratitude, Drew had used it to its fullest potential. Not that there was any honor in it; lately, hard work seemed to be the only thing that took his mind off missing her. But had he paid so much attention to exercising his body that he’d neglected to exercise his spirit? Was that the reason he’d sobbed like an orphan after she’d left him? Was that why a sob threatened to escape his throat even now?

Drew knew something about how time could sharpen the keen edge of yearning. He’d brooded and sulked for years after his mother left home. And done the same when Gabby ran off—for months.

And now she was back, more beautiful than ever.

“I’m going to take a hike, first thing tomorrow—see if I can’t find that wol—”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He knew only too well her love of wolves. Knew, too, about the one she’d heard nearly a year ago. It would break her heart to know he’d found a scraggly wolf a few months back. Living out here, he’d seen it before. Lone wolves, starving for affection as much as food, usually ended up like that one.

Her smile dimmed in response to the edginess in his voice. “Why not?”

“Doc Parker said you should take it easy for the next few days, remember?” Drew made a concerted effort to lighten his tone. “Hiking through the foothills isn’t exactly following doctor’s orders, now is it?”

She tucked in one corner of her mouth, shoved a wide, ruffle-edged noodle around on her plate. “No,” she sighed, “I suppose not.” Gabrielle sat back in her chair, lay her fork beside her plate. “But the wolf was close, Drew, real close.” Leaning forward, she rested both hands on his forearm. “You’re gonna think I’m nuts, but I want to see it, up close.”

He’d refused to let her track wolves before, citing the danger involved—another piece of evidence in her mind that he didn’t consider her feelings the least bit important. “Tell you what,” he began, “when Doc gives you a clean bill of health, we’ll look for the wolf…together.”

Drew focused on her ringless fingers, which were pressing gently into his skin. Until now, he’d hoped that she’d rented that little apartment in town just to cool off. That she’d pull herself together and realize what had happened between them didn’t have to put an end to their marriage.

But if that were true, would she have taken off her wedding band and her engagement ring? Drew didn’t think so.

He swallowed, hard.

Drew had never known anyone like Gabrielle. When she set her mind on something, she was like a puppy to the root. He didn’t see any point in telling her they’d had a similar conversation, before she left.

He’d try to move Granite Peak, lasso the sun, change the course of the Fishtail River if she asked it of him. Disappointing her was the last thing Drew wanted to do.

It hadn’t been the rage that gave her melodious voice a ragged edge, the memory of which, even as recently as last night, kept him awake for hours. It hadn’t been the heat of the angry words themselves that made him feel more ashamed than he’d ever felt to date. No, it had been the disappointment in her eyes that haunted him, wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace. If the Good Lord would see fit to give him a chance to make it up to her, Drew had vowed night after lonely night, he’d never make the same mistakes again.

“We can go tomorrow, Drew. It’d be safe—if you were with me.”

Gabrielle waited for his response, a sweet smile curving her lovely lips.

She had come back to him. What more proof did he need that God had answered his plea?

“I dunno, Gabby. Doc said—”

“I’m not a baby, Drew,” she snapped, snatching back her hands. “I don’t need to be coddled.”

The truth came spilling out, like the rapids spilling over timeworn rocks in the bend of a river. “Gabby, sweetie,” he said, reaching for her, “I’m sorry if it sounds like that. I don’t mean it to, honest. It’s just that I love you and I’m worried about you. I know how you push yourself. I’ve had a concussion, myself, so I know you can feel terrific one minute, dizzy as a drunkard the next.”

She gave him a halfhearted grin. “Do I smell a compromise in the air?”

Drew hung his head and chuckled softly. Leave it to Gabby to put her own spin on it. “Okay. Okay. I know when I’m licked,” he admitted, grinning. And crouching beside her chair, he wrapped her in a hearty hug. “But honest, Gabby, if anything ever happened to you,” he whispered against her freckled cheek, “I don’t know what I’d do.”

Gabrielle turned to face him, putting her lips no more than an inch from his. And bracketing his face in her warm hands, she gazed lovingly into his eyes. “Nothing is going to happen to me,” she stated matter-of-factly. “You’re forgetting that I’m a Lafayette!”

“You were a Lafayette,” he corrected, praying his words wouldn’t jog her memory.

She kissed him then, not the way friend kisses friend, or parent kisses child, but the way a woman kisses the man she loves. “You’re absolutely right,” she said on a sigh. “I’m a Cunningham now, and mighty proud of it.”

Her mouth was soft and searching, her breath whisper-sweet. Drew’s heart pounded as she leaned back and combed her fingers through his hair, and he was shocked at his eager response to her scrutiny.

“You know what I’ve been thinking?”

He cleared his throat. The more things change, he quoted silently, the more they stay the same. Why did she always pick times like these to get chatty? But God help him, he loved her with everything in him. If talking’s what she wanted, then talking’s what she’d get. Despite himself, he smiled. “What’ve you been thinking?”

Her delicate forefinger traced the contour of his upper lip, the angle of his jaw, the slope of his nose. Raising one well-arched brow and grinning mischievously, she began in a breathy voice, “That it’d be awfully nice to hear the pitter-patter of little feet around this big, old, empty ranch house.”

Drew blinked, stunned into openmouthed silence at her suggestion. Was she kidding? Was this part of some cruel, vengeful joke? Or had he misunderstood her entirely?

“Y-you…you want to—”

Gabrielle tilted her head, her smile broadening slightly as she looked over his left shoulder and focused on some spot near the ceiling. “I’ve been experiencing some very strange sensations the last couple of days…” She snuggled closer, rested her cheek against his chest.

He held his breath for a moment before saying, “It’s the concussion.” Nodding, Drew added, “Normal. Very normal. Dizziness and—” He cleared his throat. “Is your stomach queasy?”

She tilted her head back, sending that gleaming, luxurious hair cascading over one shoulder like a fiery waterfall. “Well, no-o,” she singsonged, “but it co-o-ould be, if you’ll just cooperate a little.”

Much as he wanted to take her upstairs—and he wanted that a lot—Drew couldn’t let himself give in to the temptation. Wouldn’t be fair to Gabby, he told himself. It’d be like using her. And as he stared into her loving eyes, he admitted it wouldn’t be like using her, it would be using her. She was vulnerable right now, weakened physically and psychologically by the concussion, and certainly in no emotional condition to be making decisions as life-altering as having a baby!

He remembered the times she’d asked that question, on their wedding night, and weeks after the honeymoon, and every other day, it seemed. “Not yet,” he’d said each time, citing their small savings account and everything that needed doing around the ranch as reasons to wait.

Besides, if her “strange sensations” managed to produce the results she seemed to want them to, it wouldn’t be fair to the child, wouldn’t be fair to Drew, because if she got her memory back and changed her mind again after they were sure a baby was on the way—

“Drew? Honey?” she crooned, fingers playing in his hair.

He cleared his throat again.

“You love me, don’t you?”

“’Course I do,” he said, a little rougher than he’d intended. “You know I do,” he added more gently.

“When you proposed to me, you said you wanted us to have a family. A big one. You meant it, didn’t you?”

The idea of Gabrielle bearing his children, of having little Gabby and Drew look-alikes running around the house, appealed to him more than he cared to admit. But he wanted to be sure. Sure of a lot of things before they started having kids. For one thing, he wanted to know there’d always be enough money in the bank to keep a tight roof over their heads, plenty of food in the pantry. But more than that, he wanted—needed—proof that Gabrielle wouldn’t up and leave when some good-looking musician came to town, the way his mother had.

He had nothing to go on now but blind faith, because she’d already left him. And if not for the concussion, Gabrielle wouldn’t be here now, in his arms, asking him to help her make a baby.

Blind faith.

Lord, he prayed silently, You’ve got to help me out here, ’cause I’m skatin’ on thin ice.

“Yes, Gabrielle. I want to have a family with you. I want that more than you’ll ever know,” he answered at last.

Gabrielle stood, held out her hand to him and smiled sweetly. Drew didn’t know what possessed him to put his hand into hers, or why he so willingly let her lead him down the long, narrow hall into the foyer, or why he followed her up the curved mahogany staircase.

But he did.

He wanted nothing but good things for her—happiness, fulfillment, robust health. It was only because he believed with everything in him that he was good for her that Drew prayed, Lord, if it means she’ll leave me again, don’t ever let Gabby get her memory back.

Even as the words formed in his mind, he admitted the selfishness of them. But he needed her every bit as much as he loved her; he’d make it up to her in a thousand ways, for the rest of his days.

“I hope I won’t be sorry in the morning,” she whispered, her voice husky and trembly as she back-stepped into their room.

Sorry?

His heart thundered against his ribs. Sorry about what?

“For letting the dishes wait. Mozzarella cheese gets like concrete when it sits.”

His earlier concerns that this might be a mistake—a big one—were blotted out by velvet sighs and fluttering hands that caressed his face, his shoulders, his back. Pulse pounding and heart hammering, he gave in to the moment, but not so completely that he didn’t hear those words ringing in his ears: “I hope I won’t be sorry in the morning.”