Gaffney, Patricia (33 page)

She might be a little prejudiced.

And then his voice came to her, the words inaudible, but that low,
husky murmur so thrillingly familiar it made her mouth go dry. He only used
that tone for two things: to talk to Pegasus when he thought nobody was
listening, and to whisper sexy things in Cady's ear when they were making love.

Blushing, grinning like a fool, she followed the seductive sound,
drawn irresistibly down the wide corridor to Peg's stall. Neither horse nor man
heard her; they were too much in love with each other. She paused to look at
Jesse, slouched over the gate, one of his worn, dusty boots braced on the
bottom rail. He had on a pink shirt and a blue paisley tie, with his oldest
corduroy work pants. It was a joke; he did it on purpose, wore outrageous
colors to tease her, and also to make fun of himself—the former Gault.

"Proud of yourself, aren't you?" she heard him croon to
the black stallion. "Think you're just about the toughest stud this side
of Kentucky, don't you? I swear your chest got bigger since yesterday. Pretty
soon you won't fit through the door. Huh? C'mere, Mr. Swelled Head. There's my
boy. There's my beauty."

"I
could
be jealous."

He did a slow whirl—she'd surprised him, but he was much too smart
to make sudden moves around horses, even Peg. "Cady."

Forget jealousy. The gladness in his voice when he said that one
word was better than music. He came toward her with his arms spread wide,
smiling at her with so much love and welcome, she forgot herself and hugged him
hard.

"Ow. Oh, ow, ow—"

"Cady? What's wrong?" He jerked his hands away in alarm.
"Did I hurt you?"

"Ha! No, no, it's nothing." She laughed again, anxious
to reassure him. "I'm fine, really, just—stiff, you know, from the long
drive. Oh, hurry up and kiss me. Jess, I have such a
surprise
for
you."

"Is this it?" He kissed her the way she liked best,
gently, soundly. Completely.

They swayed, holding on to each other. "No," she
murmured with her eyes closed. "This is just extra."

"I missed you a lot."

"I missed you so much. Let's never be apart again."

"Okay."

The only reason he hadn't come with her and Levi to Grant's Pass
was because of Bellefleur. Which reminded her. "Nestor says you've got a
surprise, too."

He broke away, grinning. "Guess what it is."

"Belle?"

He nodded, grabbing her hand. "God, Cady, wait'll you see.
He's
gorgeous." A
colt, then. Her own excitement mounted as Jesse led
her down the dim passageway to the loose box stall at the end. "Oh... Oh,
Jess,
look."

"Did I tell you?"

Belle's newborn colt was all black, except for a white blaze in
the center of his Roman nose. He stopped nursing to swivel his head, surveying
them with a brown, liquid eye. "Oh, he can stand and everything," she
breathed, enchanted.

"Well, sure. He could run if we let him out. His legs are
almost full grown."

"Hey, sweet Belle." The proud mother shifted around and
ambled over to them. "You did so
well,"
Cady praised her,
stroking the soft muzzle, letting Belle push her nose against her chest.
"What a
beautiful
baby. Was it hard? Did you have a bad time,
sweetheart?"

"No, she was great, she didn't even need me and Nestor.
Marion popped out in about forty minutes."

"Marion." She snorted, tickled. "You aren't really
going to call that beautiful horse Marion, are you?"

"Marion, son of Pegasus out of Bellefleur. Oh, he's a
crackerjack colt, Cady. Look at his eyes—see how bold he is? And look at his
chest, look at the shape of his head."

"English and Arabian." That was a good mix of
bloodlines, she knew—but that was about all she knew. Thoroughbred horse
breeding was about a thousand times more complicated than she'd ever imagined.

"What a sire he'll make. Between him and Peg, they'll breed
beauties, Cady, nothing but beauties."

"Won't Belle have something to do with it?"

"Well, sure, but we'll buy other brood mares for our
stallions—good, blooded females so Belle doesn't get worn out."

"Oh." Lucky Bellefleur, she thought, scratching between
her ears. In a year she'd gone from cruelty and mistreatment to a life of
luxury and comfort, with a handsome husband and the prospect of lots more
children.

The foal—Marion—had curled up in a corner and gone to sleep. Cady
hated to go, but Jesse said they'd come back after dinner and look at him some
more. On the way out she congratulated Pegasus, who lifted his proud head and
flared his arrogant nostrils, taking her praise as his due.

Nestor was unhitching Nell from the wagon. "Where's
my
surprise,"
Jesse wanted to know. "In here?" he scanned the wagon bed, but all he
could see were wrapped tree saplings and seedling flats and bags of some
special fertilizer she claimed she could only get in Grant's Pass.

"Nope." She put her arm around his waist, smiling
blandly. They began to walk toward the house. He wanted to kiss her and kiss
her and take her clothes off and lie down on the ground with her. "I was
going to wait till tonight," she told him, "but I don't think I can
stand it."

"I know I can't." And he wasn't talking about the
surprise. "What is it? Something good?"

"I think I can safely say you're going to love it."

He stopped short. His heart stopped, too. "You're
pregnant."

She gasped. "No!
No.
Oh, no, I'm not. Oh, Jess."
Disappointment clouded her eyes. "Are you sorry? I'm—"

"No! I'm not sorry, I'm just..." Jesse laughed, not
really sure what he was. Okay—a little disappointed. But a little relieved,
too. And interested in himself.
You're going to love it,
she'd said, and
his first guess was a baby. Well, well, well.

"We haven't been trying or anything," Cady fretted.
"I haven't even been thinking about it. I guess I didn't know how you
felt."

He touched her cheek. "Well, I'm for it, but I'm not in any
big hurry. That is, if you're not."

"No..." But there was a gleam in her eye that hadn't
been there before. It fascinated him. He started to kiss her, but just then
Michele called down to them from the front porch.

"Dinner in twenty minutes?"

"Yeah," "Great," they yelled back.

"Welcome home," she called to Cady, before disappearing
into the house.

Cady slipped her arm through his. "So. Did she take good care
of you while I was gone?"

"Too good. If I ate everything she puts on my plate, I'd
weigh more than Peg in a week."

"I know, but it's so
good.
But you're right—I'll have
a talk with her about portions."

"She's used to cooking for a crowd at Jacques's."

"I still can't believe we've got her."

"I can't believe we've got a housekeeper at all. I mean,
any
housekeeper."

"I know. I know."

They marveled about it all the time—their good fortune. Having
each other was the best, but now they also had
things.
It was a first
for both of them. And together they were learning that material prosperity,
unlike so many other things you coveted once and then acquired, really
was
all
it was cracked up to be.

"Well, look at this."

"Oh, Jess, how sweet. Did you tell her to do it?"

"Yeah. No," he admitted, laughing, when Cady slanted him
a dubious look. Michele had put a fresh, cool glass of lemonade on the arm of
Cady's rocking chair and a mint julep on the arm of Jesse's. They sat down
carefully, took up their glasses, and toasted each other.

"To you."

"To us."

"Welcome home, honey."

"I'm never going away again. Not without you."

They leaned over and kissed. Then they drank, and they both said,
"Ahh," afterward, meaning the drink
and
the kiss. "This
is it," Jesse gloated. "Definitely. This is the life."

"I've got something for you." She pulled an envelope
from her skirt pocket and handed it over.

He was hoping it was the surprise, but it wasn't. " 'M.N.,'
" he read, chuckling. Marion thought he was so funny. He couldn't write
"Gault" on any of his letters to Paradise, so he'd taken to calling
himself "Marion Nogunsatall" when he corresponded with his cousin.

"Ha. Hm."

"What's he say?" She leaned over, trying to see.

"He's gone and bought that tobacco plantation."

"Good."

"I guess."

"Don't you think he'll make a good farmer?"

"I have no idea. A year ago I'd have said no, definitely not.
But then, I never thought I'd end up owning a stud farm, either."

"And I never thought I'd really have my own orchard."

He looked at her and smiled. Cady's happiness meant the world to
him.
"Think
it's because we live right? Virtue rewarded?"

"Hah!"

Well, that answered that. "Here's to Marion," he
offered, clinking glasses.

"To Marion. I hope he's as lucky as we are."

"And as happy."

"Oh, that would be impossible. Nobody could be as happy as I
am."

"Except me."

Good thing they were alone; sometimes Nestor overheard the things
they said to each other and laughed. Or made retching noises. It cramped their
style.

The first star of the night winked on in the paling sky. High,
high up, an osprey flashed them its white underside as it floated and dipped
over the river, looking for its evening meal. Jesse sighed. Over everything,
the land, this house, their lives, the whispery, muted roar of the Rogue was a
sturdy constant he dearly loved and rarely noticed anymore. Only when he
listened very carefully. But it was inside him, part of him. Deep and steady,
like his love for Cady.

He set his glass down. "I want my surprise, and I want it
now."

"Oh, all right." Cady put her glass down, too.
"Think Michele's in the kitchen?"

"Probably. Why?"

She stood up. "I can't show it to you here. Come over this
way." She pulled him out of his rocking chair and made him walk over to
the side porch, a secluded spot, empty except for a swing hanging by a couple
of chains from the ceiling. She and Boo took catnaps in the swing, and
sometimes in the evenings Jesse came out here and smoked a cigar.

"Over here." She went behind the swing and into the
corner, the shadowy L between the house and the porch rail. He followed,
mystified, and stood in front of her, and she peered over both of his shoulders
to make sure they were alone.

"What?" His imagination was running wild.

Smiling a bit tensely, she started to unbutton her dress.

"Aha." He grinned, reaching out to help. He liked this
surprise already.

"No, don't, Jess. You have to wait."

"Okay." Fine—he liked watching, too. She had on her
traveling dress, as she called it, which was practical and gray, and wouldn't
have looked sexy on anybody but her. She got the buttons undone to the waist
and peeled herself out of the top, then started on her white chemise.

"Uh, dinner's in about five minutes," he felt obliged to
point out.

"That's all right, this won't take long."

"Really? Now you're talking. Let's—"

"Wait."

"Okay, okay." He settled back against the rail again,
resigning himself to Cady's timetable. Whatever she had in mind, experience had
taught him it would be worth the wait.

She got her shift undone and shrugged it over her shoulders. She
bit her bottom lip, looking up at him through her lashes with an interesting
combination of worry and amusement.

"What?"
The suspense was killing
him.

She took one last, cautious look around. "Ready?"

"Cady—"

"Okay!" Carefully, gingerly, she slipped the shift over
her shoulders and down her arms, uncovering her breasts.

His expectant grin faded. He stared in dismay. "Oh, honey.
Sweetheart, what happened? Baby, did you hurt your..." He stopped talking
and blinked down at her left breast, at the blotchy, too-pink, slightly swollen
tattoo under her nipple. Gradually the shape of it came into focus, and he felt
a slow smile spread across his face.

"It's still a little sore. I think it'll be nice,
though," she said, shy. "Do you like it?"

All he could say was, "Cady."

"A woman did it. In Grant's Pass. All she had to do was add
legs and a tail, and make the beak a nose. Oh, and ears. But the wings are the
same."

"It's Peg," he said wonderingly.

"Yeah. I think it looks like him, don't you?"