Hannah Howell (48 page)

“Where's Antonie?"

“Said she had to see to Ram."

“So that's the game she'll play,” Royal muttered.

“What?"

“Nothing. Who do I thank for getting me back to the house?” he asked as Cole helped him sit up.

“Antonie.” Cole managed to help Royal eat his meal. “I'm damned if I know how she managed to get you into the buggy, tied to her so you wouldn't fall out, and came home hell-bent for leather. Didn't even bother to put her dress on. We thought she was hurt, too, for a bit ‘cause there was a lot of blood on her."

“Marilyn's?"

“Yup."

Royal listened in amazement as Cole told him what Antonie had done. It was hard to believe that such a small woman could find the strength to get his body back home, especially after struggling with an insane killer. What she had done seemed a clear illustration of what she had just confessed to him, and he ached to talk to her.

But she was not going to give him any chance to, which became very clear as the days slipped by. She always brought someone with her when she did come to visit him. She also continued to sleep in her old room. The way she seemed to be keeping a close eye on his recovery gave Royal an idea. With a grinning O'Neill's cooperation, he kept his full progress a secret from her. If she did not come to him, was intent upon eluding him, he did not want her to know when he was capable of chasing her down, for she would be sure to find some new way to escape any private meeting with him.

“Well, Royal, you're as strong as a horse,” O'Neill declared one night, almost two weeks from what Tomás irreverently called his resurrection. “Isn't it about time to break out of the stall?"

“First tell me where the filly is."

O'Neill laughed. “Slipped into her own stall a short while ago."

“Without saying good night to her husband? Tsk, tsk."

“Ah, and the stallion rears,” O'Neill murmured when Royal hopped out of bed.

“Funny man,” Royal grumbled as he pulled on his pants. “Well, the little coward can't run anymore."

“Well, it wouldn't hurt to lock the door and pocket the key,” O'Neill advised as he left. “That lass can be a slippery little one."

Antonie crawled into bed, sprawled on her back, and stared up at the ceiling. Her honesty had turned her into a coward. She did feel better now that she had told Royal how she felt, except that she was embarrassed. No matter how many times she scolded herself for being silly, she could not face him. The way he kept looking at her told her that he wanted to discuss what she had said, and she wanted it to be forgotten.

She knew she would not be able to avoid him forever. He would soon be better and would certainly expect their married life to resume. It was a little puzzling that he had not done so already.

Even as she started to frown about that, she heard her bedroom door open. Her eyes wide, she watched a bare-chested Royal enter, lock the door after him, and place the key over her door. She could break her neck if she tried to get it, she thought a little wildly. Then she realized that he was out of his sickbed and marching toward her with nearly all of his former grace.

“What are you doing out of bed?” she squeaked, sitting up slightly.

“Well, you weren't coming to my bed,” he said reasonably, as he took off his pants and crawled in next to her.

“But you have been very ill."

“I'm better,” he murmured as he turned onto his side and reached for her.

It was very hard to think when he held her so close. Antonie found her mind quickly clouding over with desire as he nimbly removed the shirt she was wearing as a nightgown. It felt so good to hold him, to feel that he was alive and well.

“Wait a minute,” she muttered as she tried to wriggle free of his hold.

“A whole minute?” He loosened his arms enough so that, when she pushed her small hands against his chest, she was able to put a little distance between them.

“You were sick."

“So I've been told."

“No, I mean, you were still in bed this afternoon."

“Maybe I was just waiting for you to join me."

When she pushed him again, he abruptly released her. She fell onto her back, and he hurried to pin her down. He met her scowl with a sweet smile. There was no place she could run to now. He placed a gentle kiss on her mouth.

“You have been playing a trick on me,” she accused him, but her stern voice broke on the last word as, holding her wrists over her head with one hand, he began to fondle her breasts with the other.

“Well, yes, I reckon I was."

“What did you do that for? I was worrying that you were healing too slowly, when all along you were getting better.” As he toyed with her increasingly aching nipples, she gritted her teeth against a swiftly rising passion.

“I could see how you were eluding me."

“I was not,” she gasped as he caressed her nipples with his tongue.

Ignoring that interruption, he continued, “So I thought I wouldn't let you know my progress. Then you couldn't run away."

The hand that had been so skillfully touching her now sought the silky curls between her thighs. “I was not ... I didn't ... Oh, I can't think when you do that."

“Good. I don't feel like thinking either,” he moaned as he slowly joined their bodies.

He rested his forehead against hers and sighed. Silently he gave thanks for her swift response to his touch. He had been too long without her to indulge in much foreplay. She clearly felt the same way. He was not going to be able to savor the feel of her warmth surrounding him for long. Even now his hips began to move as if of their own accord.

“It feels like coming home,” he said huskily as he kissed her.

Antonie clung to him, wrapping her legs tightly around him. She was starved for him. It had been too long since she had held him close, had felt his body joined with hers. Breathing words of love in Spanish, she fought against losing control. His slow rhythmic thrusts felt good. It also felt as if he were relishing the feel of her. When they simultaneously lost the strength to go slowly, she was almost disappointed, but it was a fleeting sensation erased completely as her climax engulfed her. Even as her ecstasy took her beyond thought, she heard Royal cry out her name and stiffen as he joined her in release. She held him close, as close as she could, as they slowly regained their senses.

Her first clear thought was a strong hope that this was how it would be, that they would simply return to what they had been before. The emotional confession she had made would be set quietly aside, remembered but not discussed. That hope was strengthened when his first clear thought proved not to be about her confession. She was surprised and confused when he abruptly left her arms and crouched over her.

“Damn. I didn't take care. Did you?"

“Oops."

“Antonie, oops is not what I want to hear. Damn it, Ram is only a few months old."

“Well, I had no idea you were coming to my bed tonight. I thought you were still sick,” she added with a touch of accusation in her tone.

“We'll talk about that in a minute.” He ignored her quick, panicked look. “Maybe you ought to see about that now."

“Oh. Planning on a ... um ... a..."

“An encore? Yes."

“Ah. Well, if you would just turn to look toward the door for a while,
por favor,"
she said as she started to get out of bed, wondering idly when she would stop blushing about the matter.

Doing as she asked, he said, “Not planning to bolt, are you?"

“You are watching the door and I think you would notice,
querido,
if I tried to creep out of the window."

“Quite possibly. Allow me to apologize now if my impetuosity results in something tangible."

“Huh?"

“If you get pregnant, I'm sorry."

“Oh. Well, it is said that while you are nursing a baby you cannot get pregnant."

“Really?” he drawled. “Are those the same people that say toads give you warts?"

She grimaced as she crawled back into bed.
"Sí.
I am afraid it is the same they."

“Then maybe we ought to start thinking of names.” He turned and pulled her into his arms.

“It was only the once."

“Ram was only the once."

“Maybe. We are not sure. There is no sense in worrying, eh?"

“True. We can have that discussion you've been running away from."

“How about Caterine if it is a girl?"

“Antonie, why are you afraid of talking to me about what you said that day?” he asked quietly.

Staring at him, she frowned a little. That was a question she had not really answered for herself. She supposed it was fear, in a way. The confession was easy enough, but to discuss it meant she had to hear about how her feelings were not returned.

“It does not need to be discussed. I needed to tell you. I was shown how easy it was to lose you, and I did not want to bear the regret of words not said. It need not bother you,” she said gently. “Maybe it was wrong. I should have said nothing."

“No.” He gently kissed her. “We've been too busy saying nothing. The incidents with Oro and Marilyn should have shown us the trouble of saying nothing, and the woe it can bring. We can't read each other's minds. There has to be talking or there is confusion, doubts, and hurt."

“And you have been silent about things, too?"

“Yes, although, a lot of my silence was because I simply didn't know my own mind. Maybe it's easier for women to simply accept how they feel, not question it much. Perhaps they see it clearly, know exactly what it means when they experience things like jealousy and need. I was always puzzled and surprised."

“Maybe,” she said quietly, “some of that was because of who I am, where I come from."

His hold tightened on her slightly and he nodded reluctantly. “I am ashamed to admit it but, yes, some of it was. You weren't what I'd planned on."

“Everybody finds it hard to change what they had planned on. I planned on enjoying this fire then saying
adios, amigo."

“Just like that?"

“Just like that. It is what men do."

“When did you change your mind?"

“The first night, although, I did not really change my mind. I still planned on that. I just saw that it would not be easy. It took a while longer to see just how badly my heart had become involved."

“And what did you decide when you knew that had happened?"

Sighing, she decided that perhaps it was time to be fully honest. He knew how she felt now. There was really not much left to hide. How she had reached the point of loving him was really only incidental.

“I was rather dismayed, but my feelings did not change my plans by much. I was still going to stay and enjoy until I was sent away. What else was there to do?"

“You could have told me what you were feeling."

“No. I thought about it, but it is hard to swallow one's pride, eh?"

“Yes, I reckon it is. It's choked me a time or two."

“And there was always Marilyn."

“I'd told you that that was nothing really."

"Sí,
but, too, you did not push her away. That was hard to understand at times."

“And it made it easy to think that I would choose her over you, ask her to marry me almost immediately after leaving your arms."

“It did,
sí.
I thought I was but a diversion, that is the word?"

“Yes, that's it. And when you said you'd marry me, did you love me then, Antonie?” he asked, aching to hear her say the words again.

She sighed and hid her face against his chest.
"Sí,
even before then I knew I had love for you, not just a fire, eh?” Feeling his chest move with a deep sigh, she said quietly, “It is no matter."

“No matter? Don't you want anything in return for such a gift? You have given me so much. Passion, your innocence, your loyalty, and your love. Don't you expect anything for all that?"

“It would be nice,” she answered honestly, “but it is not really necessary. You said we will have a sharing in our marriage and that you will be faithful to me. That is a lot. I understand this."

“So practical."

There was a hint of amusement in his voice that made her look at him. She did not think there was anything particularly funny about the matter. It seemed to her that he ought to be touched perhaps, pleased that his wife loved him, or maybe a little embarrassed to be told of feelings he had not asked for and did not really return. There were a dozen feelings he could have, but she did not think amusement ought to be one of them. That seemed to be just a little bit cruel.

“See what happens when we say nothing? I can see your mind working furiously and in all the wrong directions. Tell me, Antonie, what did you think when I acted like an idiot over Oro? I scowled over dinner that night in the hotel because Baird was flirting with you. I chased you down that night because I got to thinking Cole was picking up where he thought I had left off. When you took off with Tomás, I was ready to chase you right down without a thought of how it could disrupt my grand plan to expose Marilyn's treachery. Now, why do you suppose that was?"

“Because you are a possessive man?” she answered tremulously, not daring to trust her own judgment of the soft look in his eyes.

“I can see that you are as stubbornly blind as I was. That is what I told myself. You were mine and a man likes to hold onto what is his, doesn't want to share it, especially when it's the best he's ever had."

“The best?"

“Oh, yes, love, the best. That's one thing I've known for certain from the very beginning. After the time we spent apart during the drive, I knew I ought to start really thinking about how I felt about you and thinking about what I wanted for us, and from you, but I kept putting it off. There was enough trouble to allow me to avoid facing things. I told myself there wasn't enough time to do it properly.

“Christ, I had a good explanation for everything. Of course I'd be afraid for you even though you can take care of yourself, because you are small and soft and female. Of course I needed you, for what man wouldn't need a fire like the one we share. That explained why I had such a need to know you would stay when the battle was over. The need to know you were fighting for me was because I was still stinging from Marilyn's betrayal."