The Unexpected Wife (12 page)

Tears burned her eyes. “Some accident.”

He stabbed his hands through his hair. “It’s been six years since there’s been another woman.”

Her long hair cascaded over her shoulder draping breasts he’d just suckled. “You don’t want me. You wanted to use my body.”

Though Abby’s body felt nothing like Elise’s, he couldn’t deny her words. A part of him had wanted to resurrect his old love. He tugged up his pants and fastened the four buttons. “I’m sorry.”

Unshed tears glistened in her eyes. “I thought
for just a few moments it was just you and me. I was wrong.”

He shoved impatient fingers through his thick hair. “I’m sorry.”

Slowly, she rose. Moonlight cascaded on her gown. That’s when he noticed the streaks of blood. Earlier, he’d felt her tightness, but his befuddled mind hadn’t fully processed the consequences. Now the full weight of his mistake sank in.

She lifted her head high, like a proud warrior goddess. “You win. You were right. I don’t belong here.”

Abby started to move past him. He sprang to his feet and grabbed her arm. She looked up with eyes filled with sorrow and shame.

“It’s not that simple anymore,” he said. Even now, touching her sent desire ricocheting through him.

She jerked her arm free of his hold. “It is for me,
Mr. Barrington.
”

“I think you should call me Matthias now.”

“I’d rather not.” Her prickly tone reminded him of the first time he’d seen her in the stage—Society Miss.

He stared at the trail of blood on her gown. “I’m sorry.”

She followed his gaze. Her cheeks flamed red,
and she covered the fresh spots of blood with her hand.

“I thought you’d been with another man,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You said your reputation was ruined.”

“One does not have to be guilty to be convicted.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, now tight with tension. “I’m sorry.”

She tipped back her head as a tear streamed down her cheek. “Stop saying that.” She started toward the door.

He grabbed her wrist. “Like it or not, we are bound together now.”

“Nothing binds us except business. I’ll stay to the end of the summer or until you can arrange to find someone to take care of the boys.”

He ground his teeth. She wasn’t going anywhere. “You could be pregnant.”

Shock widened her eyes. Her hands flew to her flat belly. For an instant joy flashed in her eyes. “That’s not possible. It was only one time.”

“Once is sufficient,” he said more tersely than he’d intended. “Take my word for it, there could be a baby.”

She shook her head. “There isn’t. I’d know if there was.”

“How the hell would you know? Do you have the second sight?”

She lifted her chin, again the proud city woman. “I just would
know.
” Wouldn’t she?

Annoyed, he ground his teeth. “Well, I’m glad you’re so all-knowing but you’ll have to excuse me for being a little slower.”

The menace in his voice triggered alarm bells in her. “What are you talking about?”

“Until I know for certain you aren’t pregnant, you’re not going anywhere.”

“I can take care of myself. And
my
baby if need be.”

His temper held on by a thread. He needed time to think and more time to fix this mess he’d created. “No other man is ever going to raise
my
child. I take care of my own. You’re not leaving this ranch until I know for certain that you’re not carrying a child.”

“You said you didn’t want any more children!”

“I don’t. But I’ll stand by any I make.”

Her eyes looked wild, desperate. And it tore at him that he’d robbed the sparkle from her eyes.

“You can’t keep me here,” she said.

His resolve, like forged iron, was unbreakable. “Watch me.”

H
e’d called her Elise!

Still hurt two days later, she stared out the kitchen window watching the boys who were poking a stick in a rabbit hole. She enjoyed the boys and had been growing to love them as her own. But since that night in the barn she’d realized she had been fooling herself. They weren’t her children and never would be. They belonged to Elise. Just as everything else in this blasted cabin belonged to her.

Abby sighed as she ran a soapy washcloth over a tin plate. She had only herself to blame for this mess. Mr. Barrington had been clear about his feelings from the start. He had said he had loved his first wife with all his heart. He had said he didn’t have room in his heart for love. But she’d thought
if she worked hard enough, hoped hard enough, she could make everything come together. She thought she could change him. How wrong she’d been.

She’d been such a fool.

Tears glistened in her eyes and she tilted her head back so that they wouldn’t spill.

She and Mr. Barrington had barely spoken since that night. He’d left at first light the next morning, determined to track the bear and begin rounding up the horses. He’d told her it could take a day or two before he returned. Reminding her to keep the rifle close, he’d left.

She rinsed the dish and laid it on a drying towel by the sink.

The one ray of hope to rise from this disaster was the possibility of a baby. She imagined cradling the child close, savoring the soft scents of milk. Her baby. She tried to imagine what their child would look like. Likely black hair like Mr. Barrington and the boys. Fair skin.

Someone to love
her.

Abby gave herself a mental shake. A baby would also complicate things far too much. A baby would bind her to a man who could never love her. She’d not come looking for love but she realized how much she wanted it now.

She quickly finished the dishes and turned her
attention to the rising bowls of dough on the counter. She had two loaves cooling, two baking and three more to set up. Holden’s first coach full of passengers was due sometime today, and she wanted to be ready for him. A thick stew simmered on the stove, and she’d made cheese and butter yesterday.

Abby thought about the hard cash she’d earn today. How much would she make and how long would it be before she could buy a train ticket out of Montana?

“Abby,” Quinn shouted from the door. “The stage is coming.”

Abby glanced out the window. Realizing she still had a few minutes, she quickly shaped the rising dough into loaves and laid them on the rising board. She covered the dough with a tea cloth and wiped her hands on her apron.

She gave the cabin a quick glance to make certain everything was in place. She’d pressed and ironed her grandmother’s tablecloth and set it with the mismatched selection of flatware that Mr. Barrington owned. A chipped mug filled with wild-flowers adorned the center of the table.

A paltry presentation by her aunt and uncle’s standards, but in the wilds of Montana a hot meal and fine linen tablecloth were nothing short of a
miracle. The coach riders would be
her
first customers. And she wanted everything to be perfect.

Satisfied, she went outside.

The sun was bright and hot and the sky crystal-clear. The boys jumped up and down by her skirts clapping their hands.

“You two settle down now,” she said. “We’ve got guests to take care of.”

“Candy!” Tommy shouted.

Abby knelt down. “Now don’t be asking Holden about candy. It’s polite to wait. And remember to say please and thank you.”

“Okay,” Quinn said.

Tommy squirmed, too excited to stand still.

She wiped a smudge of dirt from his nose and, smiling, stood. “Now run out and play.”

Skimming her hands on her skirt, she watched as the coach rumbled down the dusty trail. Puffs of dirt swirled around the coach wheels as the horses’ hooves dug into the earth. In the driver’s seat sat Holden, his dark hat pulled low over his eyes.

Holden pulled the wagon to a stop fifty feet from the front door. Before he could tie off the reins the door to the coach opened. A tall lanky man dressed in gray stepped out of the coach. He wore a floppy hat and carried a knapsack on his shoulder.

Another man emerged from the coach. Short with
a muscular build, he wore denim workpants and a faded red shirt.

Holden hopped down from the driver’s seat. He smiled at Abby, touching the brim of his hat. “Good to see you again, Miss Abby.”

Abby felt her sprits lift. It was nice to have company. “You’re looking fit, Holden.”

He sauntered toward her. “Can’t complain. Like for you to meet your first customers. This is Mr. Webber,” he said pointing to the tall man. “And this is Mr. Pike. They’re headed up north to survey lines for the railroad. Both have come a long way and are hungry as bears.”

She nodded to both men. “It’s a pleasure. I’ve a pot full of stew, bread baking in the oven and more rising.”

“Ma’am,” Mr. Webber said. “Your words couldn’t be sweeter if you were an angel.”

Mr. Pike pressed his hand against his belly. “I could eat a bear. And if I may say ma’am, you’re a sight for sore eyes. Haven’t seen a woman in two months.”

Self-conscious, she smoothed a loose strand of hair back down. “Thank you.”

“Obliged,” Mr. Pike said.

“Where do you gentleman call home?” Abby asked.

Mr. Pike pulled off his hat. “I’m from Ohio and Mr. Webber is all the way from Maryland.”

“So you gentlemen are setting the course for this new railroad I’ve been hearing so much about?” She’d heard a few tales from Mrs. Clements of the men who worked the advance party of the rail lines. All a breed apart, these men made their own rules.

Mr. Webber took his hat off. “Yes ma’am. Railroad is paying top dollar, and I’m hoping to make enough money to buy me a farm back home.”

Mr. Pike hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Takes a lot of money to outweigh the risks. But so far, it’s been worth it.”

Dreams.
She’d come to this land with dreams. “Well, I wish you both the best of luck. There’s a barrel of fresh rainwater on the side of the house if you want to wash your hands and face. The water’s cold but clean. Now wash up and I’ll have your supper ready in fifteen minutes.”

As she turned toward the cabin, she caught sight of a rider galloping toward the house. A glance at the black mare told her it was Mr. Barrington. He sat tall in his saddle, his muscular thighs hugging the horse with ease. A familiar black Stetson shadowed his eyes.

Even at this distance, the sight of him made her stomach flutter. She could feel the familiar weak
ness in her limbs. She closed her eyes, her mind immediately turning to the night in the barn.

Instead of waiting for him as she might have done a week ago, she lifted her skirt and went inside the house. Her eyes adjusting to the dimmer light, she noted her hands trembled a little as she started to pull down the plates and set the table for her guests.

Mr. Barrington’s deep masculine voice echoed across the front lawn and into the house. Her spine pricked with unwelcome sensations and she cursed her body for not having the sense to ignore him as her mind was so desperately trying to do.

Minutes passed as she sliced bread and ladled hot stew into the bowls. She filled cups with fresh milk then checked the chokeberry pie she had cooling on the sill.

The boards on the steps creaked, signaling the arrival of her guests. Smoothing a stray lock of hair from her forehead, she turned and smiled. “Well, come right in.”

Instantly, her smile vanished. In the doorway stood Mr. Barrington, his broad shoulders all but blocking out the noonday sun. Dark stubble covered his chin and his long hair was tied at the base of his neck with a strip of rawhide. He looked more like a desperado than a rancher.

His hat in hand he stepped inside the cabin. His spurs jingled as he walked toward her.

“Where are Holden and the others?” She readjusted the forks on the napkins for the tenth time today.

“Using the outhouse, stretching their legs. Holden is unsaddling my horse. They’ll be here in a minute.”

Even after two days, having him this close made her stomach flutter. “Did you have luck finding the bear?” she said coolly.

“No, I lost his tracks about half a mile from here.” He hung up his hat on a peg by the door. “I thought by now you’d be calling me Matthias.”

She took an extra moment to smooth out the last napkin, needing some simple task to keep her nerves steady. “That seems a little familiar.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Too familiar? After what happened?”

“I’d rather keep things more formal.”

“It’s too late for that.”

Her hands started to shake. “Are you hungry?”

His dark gaze locked on her in a too-familiar way. “Yes.”

She could feel the color rising in her cheeks but she turned toward the cupboard before he could see.
“Let me set you a place then. You can visit with our guests.”

A heavy silence settled in the room as she set another plate, fork and cup on the table.

His gaze bore into her. “It’s rare we have time in the middle of the day to talk.”

Color burned her cheeks. “We don’t have time. Our guests will be here any moment.”

“I asked Holden to see that we had a couple of minutes.”

Her head snapped up. Her throat felt as dry as dust. “Why?”

He leaned against the counter. His stance seemed casual, but his gaze was harder than steel. “Like it or not we need to talk.”

The wind howled against the cabin, making it creak. “If you’re wondering about the baby, I don’t know anything yet.”

“When will you know?” he said stiffly.

Tears glistened in her eyes. “A week, maybe sooner.”

He shifted, uncomfortable as if talking was the last thing he wanted to do. “Look, Abby, there’s more to talk about other than the baby.”

“I don’t think so, Mr. Barrington. I’ll be leaving at the end of the summer as we discussed.” A tear escaped and she savagely wiped it away. “Now if
you’ll excuse me. I’ve got to finish getting the table ready.”

Annoyance flashed in his eyes but he went silent. He glanced down at the table. There were three places plus the one she’d added for him. “Aren’t you joining us?”

“No, I thought I’d take the boys outside and keep them out of everyone’s way. It can be hard to eat a meal when they’re running about.”

“I want you to sit, relax for a few minutes.”

“I’ve never been one for sitting and relaxing.”

Before either could speak another word the men filed inside the cabin. With so many people in the single room, the space felt painfully small. Mr. Barrington was only inches from her, and the heat from his body scalded her skin.

Abby wished the cabin had more space. Her mind drifted toward a project she’d considered from the start—adding on another room. Perhaps expand the kitchen, and then she could bake extra goods and send them into town with Holden for Mrs. Clements to sell in her store.

She caught herself.

She was leaving soon.

There wouldn’t be any need for the expansion because, once she left, Holden would stop bringing customers by for a meal.

Sadness tugged at her before she refocused on the men who stared at the food with longing.

“Dig in, gentlemen,” Abby said. “Don’t wait on my account. Enjoy your lunch.”

Needing no other encouragement, the men grabbed slices of bread from the platter in the middle of the table. They started to eat.

Mr. Barrington stood with his back straight. He looked ready to turn on his heel and leave when Holden arrived. “I turned the horses loose in the corral and I washed my hands.” There was a wide grin on Holden’s face as he held up his hands to Abby. “Quinn told me you’re a stickler for clean hands.”

She grinned. Having him in the cabin diffused the tension and she felt as if she could breathe again. “Have a seat. I’d say you pass inspection.”

Holden glanced up at Mr. Barrington. “Aren’t you going to have a seat? Shame to waste a hot meal.”

A muscle pulsed on the side of his jaw. “I’ll sit if Abby does.”

She took a step back. “I thought I’d leave you men to your meal. And I really should check on the boys.”

“The boys are playing inside the coach,” Holden
said quickly. “I told them no climbing on top.” He popped a piece of bread in his mouth. “Sit.”

Mr. Barrington pulled a spare chair from the corner and placed it directly beside his. “Don’t want to disappoint our guests, Abby.”

She ground her teeth. He was backing her into a corner and they both knew she was too damn polite to make a scene in front of company.

With no other choice, she took the seat he held for her. Only when she was seated did he take his. The space was cramped. She scooted her chair an inch from his only to have him move his two inches toward her. The casual brush sent fire through her veins and for a moment she thought she’d jump out of her skin.

Mr. Barrington, however, looked perfectly content where he was. He snapped open his napkin and laid it across his lap. “Pike and Webber, is it?”

“Yes, sir,” Mr. Pike said. “And I got to say that this is the best food I’ve eaten since I left home.”

“Brings tears to my eyes, ma’am,” Mr. Webber said.

Abby barely heard what they said. “Thank you.”

The men started talking about the work they’d been doing and the harsh weather they’d seen since they’d arrived. Abby let the conversations drift over her head.

Guests were so rare and she wanted to sit and chat, but having Mr. Barrington so close was making her nerves dance. His scent enveloped her. Her stomach tightened each time he shifted in his seat and brushed her thigh.

She needed distance and space.

Abby glanced toward the door hoping the boys needed her so that she could escape Mr. Barrington’s presence. She saw Quinn’s head pop out of the stagecoach window and then Tommy’s out of the other. Both were laughing.

“I better go check on the children,” she said.