Читать книгу The Rancher's Wife - Lynda Trent - Страница 9

Chapter Two

After telling Elizabeth how miserable she was, Celia was more determined than ever to hurry the birth of the baby and leave Brice. He dearly wanted this child and she smiled to think how it would hurt him to see her leave with it. It was no more than he deserved for bringing her here.

She bullied Consuela until the woman produced a concoction of mandrake, bitter apple, cotton root and squaw vine. It tasted foul and left a bitter residue in her mouth, but within an hour she felt the first contraction.

Consuela put her to bed and sent word to Brice in the pasture that the baby was coming. He arrived sooner than Celia thought possible. Between contractions she berated him for putting her in this condition. As the contractions grew stronger and she began to hemorrhage, her reproaches grew shrill with her panic. She hadn’t expected so much pain. She could tell by Consuela’s face that something was wrong. The baby should be small and easy to birth since it was a month from full term. Why was she having such pain?

When Brice had first come into the room, Celia saw Consuela hide the empty bottle in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe that blocked the doorway that connected this room with Brice’s. If something went wrong and she lost the baby, Celia intended to show the bottle to Brice and blame it all on Consuela.

But why wasn’t the baby coming?

Brice ached to see Celia’s pain. He had known she didn’t want children but he had believed she would change her mind once she had one. Besides, there was no effective means to prevent pregnancy except for abstinence. Celia hadn’t wanted him in her bed and that made her pain and misery all his fault. Since she moved to this room, he had allowed himself one lapse in respecting her wishes and this was the result of it.

Brice was a kind man and he hated knowing Celia was suffering because of him. “Do you want me to send a man after Elizabeth Parkins?” he suggested to cheer her.

“No!” Celia snapped. “You know she lives in Old Zeb’s mud hut. I don’t want white trash around me. Certainly not at a time like this. I want my mother and my aunts!”

“Elizabeth struck me as a good woman. She certainly isn’t white trash. And she’s a lot nearer than your mother and aunts.”

“Go away, Brice! Get out of my sight! I wish you were dead!” She screamed at him so hysterically a bead of spittle ran down her chin. She didn’t notice.

Brice left without a word.

Cal, his closest friend, had come in from the bunk house and was waiting downstairs in the back parlor. He was called Wandering Cal because of a cast in his right eye. Brice didn’t know his last name or where he came from, but they had been friends for years and Cal was his right-hand man on the ranch.

“She doing all right?” Cal asked. He was a man of few words.

“I don’t know. It’s too damned early for the baby to come. It’s too early!” He paced to the hearth, then to the window. “What if I lose them, Cal?”

“Probably won’t.” Cal sat by the fire and picked up a piece of kindling to whittle. He looked entirely out of place in Celia’s back parlor, even if it wasn’t as grand as the formal front one. Cal was more suited for the barn.

“I should have sent her back home when I saw she didn’t like it here. I kept thinking she would change her mind after a while. I was wrong.”

“Wives belong with their husbands.” Cal didn’t like Celia and never had. He had only come into the house to keep Brice company. Celia never allowed him, or any of the other hired hands, nearer than the back porch.

An agonized scream made Brice cross to the door, hesitate and go back to the window.

“Go to the barn,” Cal suggested. “I’ll come tell you when it’s over.”

“No, I have to stay here. If Celia can live through it, I can stand to listen.” But the next scream drained the blood from his face.

Cal looked up at the ceiling and paused in his whittling until the sound died away.

Brice started pacing again. He had to keep moving, even if he wasn’t going anywhere. Every sound from Celia’s bedroom tore at him.

The terrible wailing continued. Hours later Celia’s voice had grown hoarse. Brice went up the stairs and back into her room. She no longer looked like herself. Her skin was pasty-gray and her blond hair hung in damp strings about her face. Circles like dark bruises lay under her glassy eyes.

Consuela looked at him in fright. “The baby is not coming. It still does not show. I think it is turned sideways.”

There was no need for her to explain to Brice what this meant. He had seen enough calvings to know it couldn’t be born this way. “Can you turn it?”

Consuela shook her head. “Senora Graham will not let me try.”

Brice went closer to the bed. “We have to turn the baby, Celia.”

“No! I don’t want either of you to touch me!”

He sat beside her on the bed and held her arms gently but firmly. “You don’t have a choice in this. You’re getting too weak. Consuela, can you do it?”

“Sí,” she said reluctantly. She was clearly afraid of her mistress, but she prepared to turn the baby nonetheless.

Celia screamed as if she were dying, but Brice held her, speaking to her gently in spite of the names she was calling him.

Minutes later, Consuela went to the washbasin and washed her hands. Brice released Celia, who struck him repeatedly until he left the bed. “Well? Did it turn?”

Silently she shook her head.

“I’ll try.” He went back to Celia and tried to steel himself to her string of curses. A few minutes later he found a tiny foot, then another one. “I have him!” he said triumphantly. “Push, Celia!”

Soon the baby lay screaming on the bed, waving her fists in protest at being born. “It’s a girl, Celia!” he called out. “She’s so tiny!”

He finished tying off the cord and held her up so Celia could see her. “Isn’t she a beauty?”

“Ugly,” Celia croaked out. “She’s ugly!”

“No,” he said with a laugh as he went to sponge her clean at the washbasin. “She’s going to be a rare beauty someday! Celia?” The room was suddenly too quiet.

Consuela stopped cleaning Celia and stared at her face. Then she looked at Brice, her eyes filled with fear and dread.

“Celia?” he repeated. He wrapped the baby in the towel and went to his wife.

Celia’s eyes were fixed and growing dull. Her pale lips moved. Brice leaned closer to hear what she was saying.

“I hate you. And I hate your baby.” The last word was so broken as to be almost incoherent. A sigh of breath escaped from her lips and she didn’t draw another one.

“Celia!” Brice shouted. “Celia!”

Consuela eased away from the bed. “Señora Graham is dead. I see her spirit leaving!” The woman’s eyes were dilated with fear.

Brice stared at Celia’s body in disbelief. She couldn’t be dead! Sometimes women were in labor for days and lived. Celia bad only labored for a few hours. She was young!

Nevertheless, she was dead.

The funeral was simple. Cal and some of the other men built a coffin, and Brice, with Consuela’s help, laid Celia in it.

Numbly Brice decided to bury her a little distance from the house. He and Cal dug the grave.

Because no one was available to serve as the baby’s wet nurse, Consuela made a baby bottle from an empty whiskey bottle and diluted cow’s milk to a strength the baby could digest.

Brice went through the necessary motions of laying Celia to rest and caring for the baby, but part of his mind refused to accept the truth. They had no longer loved each other and Celia’s last words had been of her hatred for him, but he still felt a deep loss. Was part of it guilt? He had indirectly put her in mortal danger. She had never been robust and the pregnancy had been hard on her. And her heart had given out because it couldn’t stand up to the stress of hard labor. Still, she shouldn’t be dead. She was young. Brice spent the next few days in a fog.

When he woke up one morning to discover Consuela and her husband had left in the night, the strength of determination began to build in him. He had lost Celia. but he was not going to lose the baby as well!

From that moment on, Brice began to heal.

By now Elizabeth was becoming accustomed to the idea that Robert wasn’t coming home. At times this still terrified her because she had the rest of the winter to contend with alone. At others she was almost glad. With him gone there was no one to argue with or tell her she was wrong every time she opened her mouth. No one to chip at rocks while she did all the chores, no one to mess up the hut once she had everything in order.

She was beginning to realize how little Robert had done and was becoming resentful that she had allowed him to get away with it. If he came back, she vowed, it would be different. He would pull his own weight or leave.

Such thoughts sobered her. She had no way of enforcing them and, even if she did, why would she want this hovel to herself? If Robert wasn’t coming back, she would be smarter to go back to Hannibal, swallow her pride and return to her father’s house, begging his forgiveness. That alone was thought enough to make her know she would never return. There were worse situations than the one she was now in.

In the long days of solitude she taught herself to hunt. At first she missed everything she aimed at and got a bruised shoulder for her efforts. But gradually she started hitting the game more often than she missed and finally became a fairly good shot. The lack of money to buy more ammunition gave her incentive. She wasn’t sure what she would do once the bullets were gone. When the ground was clear of snow, she gathered hay and grass for the mule.

Elizabeth was good at making provisions last. She had learned it by necessity over the past seven years. She ate only what she really needed, and when she killed game, she didn’t waste any parts that could be boiled, dried or fried. She was even learning to tan hides so she could replace the soles of her shoes when they wore out. Little by little she had come to think of Robert as gone forever, and struggled to fill the void he left.

Loneliness was the worst part. There were times when she thought she would go mad if she didn’t hear a human voice. During these times she sang or talked aloud to the mule or quoted the poems she had learned in school or did verbal math problems. Anything to hear something other man wind and silence.

Frequently she considered going back to the ranch to visit Celia, but the weather was so unpredictable she was afraid to go so far from home. Also, she knew Celia and Brice would insist on giving her more provisions, and she was too proud to accept charity when she had no means of repaying it, even though her meal and flour were almost gone.

There was the constant worry of how to replace the things she couldn’t make for herself, such as the lamp oil, the bullets, cotton cloth for a dress when her two remaining ones became threadbare. She had no money at all and no way to make any. A few times she even went into the mine and chipped halfheartedly at the barren rocks in hopes of finding the gold she knew wasn’t there.

Another snowstorm came and she was again stranded with the mule in her hut. The mule didn’t seem to like the arrangement any better than she did, but she wouldn’t leave him in the barn where he might freeze. The second day of the storm, she realized how fortuitous her decision had been when the weight of the wet snow caved in one end of the barn’s roof. Had the mule been inside, he would almost certainly have been injured or killed. Elizabeth tried not to think about the ponderous load of snow over her own head or to wonder how much more weight the roof could bear without collapsing.

When the snow finally started to melt, a portion of the roof crumbled into her hut and landed on her table as she ate. She would have been hard-pressed to say which upset her more, the hole in the roof or the loss of food she could ill afford to replace.

Something had to be done. Elizabeth was becoming more and more aware that she couldn’t stay here indefinitely. But where could she go? If she went to Glory she might be able to earn her living by washing clothes and ironing, but, until she had money, she would have no roof over her head. Without a house, where would she wash and iron? She could try to sell her land and the sod hut, but who would be fool enough to buy them?

She considered going to Brice’s ranch and asking for a job as housekeeper. By now Celia’s baby would have been barn and Elizabeth had always liked children. Perhaps she could be the baby’s nanny and later its tutor. She was well educated and there was no school in the valley. Such a job would be a joy.

But with such an arrangement would come the problem of living under the same roof with a man who was already in her dreams too often and whose temper was reportedly as bad as Robert’s.

Elizabeth hated herself for her dreams about Brice. In them he was far more than a friend. Brice could never be her lover. Not every. She was married to Robert and was stuck with him, like it or not. And Brice was married to Celia. All marital obstacles removed, Elizabeth vowed to avoid another abusive man.

Faced with no recourse but to relocate to Glory, Elizabeth began thinking in terms of how to find the town. All she remembered about that leg of their journey was her anticipation of finally reaching their new home and that it had been all uphill. She would start off in the direction Robert had taken the day he left and hope that she’d recognize enough of the landmarks to avoid getting completely lost. The mule wouldn’t travel as fast as the horse, but she would get there eventually. There had been no trouble with Indians that she knew of, and being a laundress wasn’t the worst fate in the world. At least she’d be alive.

As she was planning for her departure, she heard a horse ride into the yard. For a moment she was frozen. Could it be Robert? She ran to the door and threw it open.

Instead of Robert, Brice was dismounting from a prancing bay. He pined at her and her heart skipped. “I hope I’m not barging in,” he said as he tied the animal to a bush.

“No. Not at all. Come in.” She was heartily glad she had moved the mule back to the pen and had cleaned the hut as well as possible. All the same, she was embarrassed at him seeing where she lived.

Brice ducked in order to get through the doorway into the hut, his hat in his hand. His eyes glanced about and his face was carefully expressionless. He took the chair she indicated and laid his hat on the table. “Is your husband around?”

“No, he never came back.” Her illicit dreams hadn’t done Brice justice. He was far more handsome than she remembered and his voice was deeper and seemed to resonate somewhere within her. She abruptly looked away.

Brice leaned forward as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. “He didn’t? You’re still alone?”

She refused to meet his eyes. “I don’t believe he’s going to come back. Not after being away this long. I’m planning to move to Glory.” Almost defensively she added, “I can’t make it here on my own.”

He glanced up at the sky that showed through the roof over her head. “I don’t see how you’ve made it this long.”

Tears rose in her eyes and she blinked them back impatiently. “I manage quite well. Better than you might expect. I finally learned to shoot, and I found a spot down the stream that is level enough to plant a garden, which I’d planned to do come spring. I’m only going to Glory because I can’t figure out how to buy bullets or calico or lamp oil. Other than that, I could make it here just fine.”

“I wasn’t finding fault. I was complimenting you.”

Elizabeth drew in a steadying breath. “I’m sorry for the way the place looks, but there’s not much you can do with a sod hut.” She still felt as if she should defend herself and her life-style.

Brice was quiet for a moment. “I want you to come back to the ranch with me.”

Her eyes met his. “Why?” If he was offering her charity she didn’t think she could stand it.

He looked away. “A lot has happened since you’ve been gone. Celia had the baby.” He paused for a long time. “The baby—a girl—is well. Celia didn’t make it.”

Elizabeth reflexively took a step forward. “No! Celia died?”

He nodded. “It was a terrible thing. There was nothing we could do. When the baby came, I thought she would be out of danger. But she died before she ever touched the baby.”

“How terrible!” Elizabeth felt stunned. It had never occurred to her that Celia would die. “She was going to send for me when she started labor. Why did no one come?”

Brice gave her a measured look. Quietly he said, “She changed her mind. She told me not to send for you.”

Elizabeth stared at him. She didn’t believe a word of it. Her stomach turned at the idea of Celia crying out for the company of a woman and Brice refusing to send for her. He really must be a monster as Celia had said.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

“No reason.” She averted her eyes.

“Consuela left. She didn’t give me any warning. One morning she and her husband, along with all their belongings, were gone. She never liked it here. I guess I can’t really blame her. But that leaves me without anyone to look after Mary Kate. I hate to ask you, but I need the help. In addition to room and board, I’ll pay you a salary.”

He was offering her the best possible of alternatives. He might be abusive, but she would have to take her chances. For now, she still had her pride. Elizabeth lifted her chin. “I will care for your child. I have an education. As she grows older, I’ll be able to teach her to read and write and do arithmetic.”

“It sounds like a perfect solution.” His soft voice warmed her like a summer’s breeze in spite of her dislike of him. “I came here thinking I’d have to argue your husband into letting you come, at least until I could find someone to take Consuela’s place.”

“But I’m not coming because I have no other option. It’s important that you understand that.” Celia was gone, but she could at least keep the baby safe. That might be necessary for its survival.

He smiled. “I understand. You’ll still have this place and the land it stands on. I can send a wagon up for your belongings.”

“That won’t be necessary. I can tie it all in a quilt and put it on the back of the mule. Most of this can stay right where it stands.” She would have no need for a rain-stained table and two chairs that didn’t sit evenly, or a bed whose mattress hadn’t been really dry since summer. Her few personal belongings wouldn’t even fill a quilt.

“I’ll go catch the mule for you,” he offered.

She looked around the room for the last time. The colorful quilt she’d covered the bed with seemed to be struggling in vain to make the place bright and cheerful. The other was draped over the table to hide the stained wood. She folded the smaller one and put it in the center of the larger one, then plucked her other dress and nightgown from the peg that had been hammered into the rock of the back wall and laid them atop the folded quilt.

There was no need to take Robert’s clothes. She had no use for them, and he might come back at some time.

She put her precious copy of The Mysteries of Udolpho in the center of the quilt and tied the opposite corners to make a pack. Again she looked around the room. She had lived here for months, yet all she had to take with her was a bundle that she could carry in one arm. With a sigh she went out to meet Brice and the mule.

He tied the bundle behind his saddle, then, as he had done before, he encircled her waist with his massive hands and lifted her onto the mule’s back. His touch sent her senses reeling even more this time than before. She reminded herself what sort of person he was. Why did she always find herself drawn to the wrong sort?

Trying to keep her composure from slipping away entirely, Elizabeth said, “Although I’m coming to live in your house, Mr. Graham, it’s to be understood that I’m only taking care of the baby and doing the housekeeping. You and I... That is, I’m only taking Consuela’s place as nursemaid and housekeeper. Is that understood?”

“It’s all I’ve asked of you,” he said quietly.

Elizabeth felt a blush rising. “I know. I just wanted it to be understood from the very beginning.”

“Of course. Your bedroom door has a lock on it, but you won’t need it. I’m a man of honor. I have no intention of taking advantage of you.”

“Good,” she said as she tapped her heels against the mule’s sides. She hoped she wasn’t putting herself in danger by agreeing to live in his house. She was fairly certain no other adult lived there. But by his own admission, he had no interest in her, and that would make her job easier. She should be glad of it. This way they each knew what the other expected.

All the same, she wished she hadn’t brought it up.

“Why the name Mary Kate?” she asked as they rode down the hill.

“It’s my mother’s name.”

“It was a good name.” But wouldn’t most men have named her after the wife they had just lost? This seemed to be further proof of his coldness toward Celia.

When they topped a rise and Brice’s ranch came into view, she couldn’t conceal her quick intake of breath. The ranch was even more beautiful than she remembered.

Brice noticed her reaction and smiled. “I know. It affects me the same way.” His manner was matter-offact, not in the least boastful. “I love the West. This part of the state reminds me of my boyhood home in Texas. The winters here are tougher, though.”

She glanced at him as they rode down the incline. “I would imagine so, Texas being all desert and tumbleweed.”

He chuckled. “No offense intended, but I’d bet even money that you’ve never been there. It’s actually quite beautiful, even the part out west that’s like a desert. The eastern side where I was raised is rolling hills and piney woods.”

“If you love it so much, why did you leave?”

“My brother inherited our ranch when my father died. My stepmother and I never did see eye to eye on anything, and Papa always believed everything she said against me. There were hard feelings between my brother and me, so it seemed like a good idea for me to pack up and leave. Papa did, however, leave me money, and I bought this place from one of the sooners who rushed in here to homestead when the government opened the Territory for settlement. He had only been here a short while and had done nothing with the land.”

“I would think the money would have been the better inheritance.”

He grinned again. “Not if you’re a Texan.”

“I gather you met Celia in Texas?”

He nodded. “We married after I built this ranch. Her parents weren’t at all happy about me taking her so far away. They blame her death on me.”

Elizabeth studied his face for any expression of guilt. There was none.

“Celia was never robust. She was sick off and on all her life. Maybe if we’d stayed right there with her family she would have died anyway. I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry about your loss,” she said sincerely. “Losing her in childbirth must have been very difficult.”

Again he was silent. “It’s a funny thing about the frontier. It seems to bring out things in people that, in settled places, they never discover.”

He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t think she should press him to explain.

They rode to the barn and left the animals with one of Brice’s hired hands, who looked at her with curiosity but didn’t ask any questions. Brice carried her bundle as if it weighed nothing at all.

The back of the house had a porch almost as long and wide as the front. A broom and a mop in a bucket stood beside the chimney. A gray cat lay on the step in the sunlight. The back door was covered with wooden gingerbread that matched the front entrance. Brice had spared no expense on this house. Elizabeth was again struck at the disparity between this house and her hut.

The kitchen was large and built inside the house, unlike many of the older homes in Hannibal, which had their kitchens in a separate building. The hearth was deep, high enough to walk into, and of a width that would accommodate the roasting of a whole steer. Hanging on the walls and from a rack suspended from the rafters were utensils of every size and description. Elizabeth was glad she hadn’t bothered to pack the single iron skillet and iron pot she owned. Everything she could possibly need was here.

“We had a cook for the first couple of years but she became homesick and went back to Texas. Consuela was her cousin, and I’m surprised that she stayed as long as she did. When the cook left, everything fell onto Consuela’s shoulders.”

“Where is the baby? Surely you didn’t leave her alone here while you went after me?”

“Of course not. Wandering Cal is with her.”

“Wandering Cal?” she asked doubtfully.

“He’s my foreman. He’s called that because his right eye has a way of wandering off to one side. Cal has been with me since a year or two after I came here. Mary Kate is safe with him.”

“I think I should go get her.”

Brice led her into the wide hall that served as a foyer and across to a back parlor. “We’re back. Mrs. Parkins, this is Cal. Cal, has Mary Kate given you any trouble?”

The man stood and gingerly handed the baby to Elizabeth. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Nope, her and me’s been playing.” His deep, gravelly voice sounded at odds with his words. He was as tall as Brice, several years older and far more grizzled. He looked more like a bandit than a nursemaid. Elizabeth automatically held the baby closer.

Mary Kate regarded her solemnly with large blue eyes. Then she spotted her father and gurgled happily and waved her plump arms and legs.

Brice grinned, and when he touched her arm with his forefinger, Mary Kate grabbed it and tried to put it in her mouth.

Elizabeth found herself smiling and felt love growing in her heart. No one could see this baby and not fall in love with her. “She’s beautiful! And her eyes are as blue as Celia’s.” She looked up at Brice’s dark ones.

“One baby looks pretty much like another, if you ask me,” Cal said in a rumbling voice.

Mary Kate cooed to him as if she saw right through his facade of disinterest. To her relief, Elizabeth saw a faint smile lift his lips. He immediately removed it.

“I’m going back to work if you don’t need me no more.” He looked at Brice as if he was going whether he was needed or not.

“Go ahead. I’ll be out as soon as I get Mrs. Parkins settled in.”

Cal nodded as he grabbed his hat and left without a word to Elizabeth.

“He’s talkative today,” Brice commented when they were alone. “I’ve spent days on the trail with him and not heard him say a word. Mary Kate is a good influence. I guess.”

“What do you know about him? He looks as if he chews bullets as a pastime.”

Brice laughed “Cal is a mystery. He has no past, no family, no ties to any place or thing. He owns only his clothes, a horse and tack. He was a drifter, and for some reason decided to settle here.”

“You don’t know anything about his past? How do you know he isn’t wanted somewhere by the law?” She couldn’t get over the foreman’s rough appearance, in spite of the gentleness he had shown with the baby.

“That’s not unusual on the frontier. A lot of people make no mention of their pasts and no questions are asked. If they’ve made some mistakes back home, they’ve come west for a new start, and that’s what they’re due.”

“But what if—” she began.

“He won’t answer any questions, so you may as well not ask him. All I know is he’s reliable and smarter than he seems. He’s pulled me through some tough times. No, don’t worry about Cal. He won’t do you any harm. More than likely he’ll ignore you altogether. That’s how he treated Celia. She never liked him but she got used to him.”

“It’s really none of my business.” She hugged the baby. “What do you feed her?”

He took her back outside to the spring house that straddled a small brook not far from the rear of the house. Elizabeth wrapped the baby beneath her wool cape as she followed him. “The cows give milk but it’s too rich for her. Consuela and I experimented until we hit upon a combination of milk and water that doesn’t upset Mary Kate’s stomach. That’s it in the crock there.”

Elizabeth nodded.

“Her bottles are lined along that wall.” Brice indicated a shelf of empty whiskey bottles that had been fitted with rubber nipples. “Consuela found it easier to fill them out here than to carry the crock to the house, fill one and bring it back to the spring house.”

“This time of year I can’t see much need to keep them here. The back porch should be cool enough in the shade.”

Brice nodded. “I think so, too.” He gave her a searching look. “I’m glad you’ve come. I can’t manage all of it on my own. Not and keep the ranch running.” His voice was soft and sincere.

Elizabeth drew her cape closer around the baby. “I’ll have no trouble doing these things. We’ll get along just fine.” Mary Kate lifted her head and studied Elizabeth closely, her tiny brows furrowed in infant thoughtfulness. Elizabeth found herself smiling.

Brice was watching her. “You have a pretty smile.”

At once it disappeared. Elizabeth wasn’t used to compliments. She stepped out of the spring house and started across the gentle slope to the house.

“Did I upset you? I didn’t mean to.”

“I’m not upset.”

“You look upset.”

“Well, I’m not.” She refused to look at him, even when he held the back door open for her.

“Come upstairs. I’ll show you to your room and Mary Kate’s.” He picked up her bundle from where he had left it in the kitchen and led her through the house and up the stairs.

Elizabeth was glad to follow him. This way she could look at him without being seen. His compliment had left her feeling uncomfortable. He was newly widowed. He had no business complimenting a woman. He was still in deep mourning, even if he wasn’t wearing black. And for that matter, why wasn’t he? In Elizabeth’s opinion, no recently bereaved man should be able to smile, let alone to smile in a way that made her world rock. She had been alone too much. That had to be it.

Brice indicated the first door in the upstairs hall. “This is my room. If you ever need me in the middle of the night, all you have to do is call out.”

“Why would I need you in the middle of the night?” she asked suspiciously.

“In case the baby gets sick.”

“Of course.” She felt her cheeks warming and hoped he didn’t notice.

“Your room is here.” He opened the door to the bedroom that adjoined his own. “In the summer you can leave the veranda door open and the room will be cooler. There’s always a breeze here in the summer. We share the veranda, but you can trust me to respect your privacy. As you’ll notice the door between the rooms has been blocked shut by Celia’s armoire.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

He looked around at the room as if he were deep in thought “This was Celia’s room. During her pregnancy she was ill quite often and preferred to sleep alone. But even before that she had taken this room for her own. It was the way she wanted it.”

Elizabeth gazed around the room. That explained why the wallpaper was sprigged with roses and violets and why the curtains were lace. Not one item in the room was masculine.

“This is rather delicate, but I don’t know of any other way to say it,” he began awkwardly. “Celia’s clothes are still here. I didn’t know what to do with them, and they didn’t fit Consuela. If you’d like them, you’re welcome to them. I think you’re about the same size. Otherwise, I guess I’ll have to burn them.”

“It would be a waste to burn clothing!” Elizabeth exclaimed. All the years of her marriage, she had seldom owned more than two extra dresses. The thought of burning a garment was unacceptable. Cloth was too difficult to acquire. Dresses weren’t simple to make. “I can make them over if they don’t fit. But won’t they be unpleasant reminders to you? I don’t want to offend you.”

“No, I would rather someone get some use out of them. She had some she never even wore.” He stepped back into the hall. “You can have anything in the room.” He went across the hall to a room painted in a shade of pale rose. “This is Mary Kate’s nursery.”

There was no need for him to have pointed that out. It was obvious that someone had spent hours making baby blankets, gowns and bonnets. Crib-sized quilts lay folded at the end of the baby’s bed. It didn’t escape Elizabeth that pink was the predominant color. If Mary Kate had been a boy, several baby things Celia had made would have been too feminine for his use.

As if Brice were following her thoughts, he said, “Celia’s mother sent all these things. As you can see, she was determined that the baby would be a girl. I don’t think she has much use for males. Celia came from a house full of sisters and two maiden aunts, in addition to her parents. The absence of women out here was very disturbing to her.”

“I see.”

“I had hoped she would become friends with you.”

“I hoped so, too.”

“You can change anything you like in the nursery or your room. All I ask is that you leave mine alone.”

“I’ll only go in there to clean.”

Their eyes met, and Elizabeth was aware of the intimacy of their surroundings. She stood there holding his child and speaking of his bedroom in the most ordinary of tones. She had to look away. She wasn’t entirely sure she could trust him not to take advantage of her.

“Do I make you nervous?” he asked.

“No,” she said a bit too quickly. “Why would you wonder such a thing?”

“Maybe it’s because you make me nervous as hell.” He turned and left the room without further explanation.

She stared after him.