Schulze, Dallas (23 page)

“Since I’m not particularly fond of Queen Anne, I consider that to
be in its favor.” She finished her study of the sofa and turned on her heel,
giving the room one last inspection before looking at him.

“Is the rent reasonable?”

“It’s reasonable,” he said, surprised by the practicality of the
question. He’d been expecting her to reject the house out of hand.

“It needs a good cleaning, of course.” She glanced critically at
the dusty surfaces and grimy windows. “But all in all, I think it will do quite
nicely. Mr. Moreton may have been a poor judge of females but he did quite
nicely when it came to houses. When can I start cleaning?”

“Anytime.” Bishop was stunned by her easy acceptance of the house.
She actually looked pleased with it!

“Good. I’ll need to get some things at Fitch’s,” Lila said,
thinking out loud. “A little furniture wax and some fresh curtains on the
windows and you’ll hardly recognize the place.”

He stared at her, thinking that he knew her even less than he’d
realized.

***

It was while she was cleaning the house that the idea came to
Lila. Pete Moreton had either planned on having a family right away or he’d
believed in building for the future. In addition to the parlor and large
kitchen, there were four rooms of varying sizes that would certainly function
as bedrooms. The largest bedroom was furnished with a rather elegant maple
bedframe, with a matching dresser and wardrobe. Angel immediately claimed the
smallest room as her own because she liked the view of the mountains through
the single window. Gavin professed indifference to his sleeping quarters so
Lila gave him the room next to his sister’s.

That left one room empty. Since it wasn’t furnished, she had no
way of knowing what purpose the , departed Mr. Moreton might have had in mind
for it, but its position right next to the large bedroom seemed to cry out for
it to be a nursery. If she narrowed her eyes a bit, she could envision how it
would look with soft gingham curtains hanging at the windows, a cradle against
one wall, with perhaps a rocking chair beside it.

She pressed her hand against her stomach, her mouth curving in a
wistful smile. This baby was starting to seem more real every day. She could
almost see herself sitting in that rocking chair, cradling a child in her arms.
The image was fuzzy around the edges but it was much clearer than it had been
even a few days ago. She shook her head, forcing her mind back to the matters
at hand. It would be several months yet before they had any need of a nursery.
For the moment, the room could remain empty.

Lila was halfway out of the room when the idea came to her. She
stopped short and turned around, looking at the sunny room through new eyes. A
quick mental refurnishing and her mouth curved in a smile. It was perfect. And
practical. Her smile faded a little as she considered whether Bishop would
agree with her. But if she presented it to him a fait accompli, surely he
wouldn’t offer any argument. Well, not much of an argument.

Her jaw setting with determination, she spun on her heel, her
skirts swishing against the newly waxed floor, and hurried from the room.
Bishop had told her to do what she wanted with the house, that he didn’t have
any opinions about furnishings and such like. She was simply taking him at his
word.

***

Bishop was amazed by the transformation Lila had worked. With just
a few days’ work, she’d taken the empty house and turned it into a home. The
floors were covered with a fresh coat of wax, new curtains hung at the windows,
and every surface was dust free and gleaming. The big stove had received a new
layer of blacking. A cast-iron Dutch oven sat on one of the burners, filling
the room with the rich scents of meat and potatoes. Dishes were neatly stacked
on shelves, and there was even a handful of wildflowers tucked into a glass jar
and set in the middle of the table.

It had been a very long time since he’d lived in a house where
there were flowers on the table. His first wife had liked to have flowers in
the house, but her tastes had run to roses in a crystal vase. He couldn’t
imagine Isabelle picking wildflowers and setting them in a jar of water.
Considering her upbringing, he would have expected Lila to feel the same. Yet
there the flowers were, taking pride of place in the middle of the kitchen
table.

Obviously, he had a lot to learn about his second wife.

He went looking for Lila. He’d brought her trunks over earlier
today and he could see that she’d been busy unpacking. Lacy doilies decorated
every surface. Antimacassars covered the backs of the sofa and chairs. A china
clock with richly curving sides sat on the mantel in the parlor, flanked by a
pair of silver candlesticks. There were new curtains in here, simple muslin
drapes, drawn back to allow the late-spring sunshine to spill across the newly
polished floor, picking out the grain in the wood and making it gleam golden.

Feeling more and more as if he didn’t belong there, he found his
way down the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Lila was in the largest one,
leaning over the bed, smoothing a linen sheet across the mattress. Bishop
paused to admire the view. Though he didn’t make a sound, she turned suddenly,
as if sensing his presence.

“You startled me!”

“Sorry.” He came farther into the room, setting his hat on top of
the tall chest of drawers. “I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you.”

“That’s all right. I was thinking of other things.”

Her dress was plainly cut and trimmed only with the merest touch
of lace at the wrist and throat. In a soft, buttery shade of yellow, it looked
like the personification of springtime. Late-afternoon sunlight slanted through
the window behind her, turning her hair to pure fire. She lifted one hand to
tuck a stray curl back from her forehead. He knew it wasn’t her intention, but
the gesture drew attention to the full curve of her breast and the gentle
indentation of her waist. She was beautiful, desirable—and his.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Lila said, smoothing one hand over
her skirts. Though she was modestly covered, there was something in Bishop’s eyes
that made her feel suddenly naked and vulnerable. “Supper’s in an hour. I was
just finishing up a few things.”

“You’ve worked hard. The house looks good.”

“Thank you.” Had he moved closer or had the room gotten smaller?
She shifted back a little. “I put your things away. I wasn’t sure how you
wanted them arranged.”

“It doesn’t matter. Where are the children?”

“They’re outside. Gavin said he’d look out for Angel.” He
was
closer. He was much too close, in fact, and it was suddenly hard to breathe.
She inched back only to feel the bed come up against the back of her legs. That
was
not
where she wanted to be.

“So we’re alone.”

He hadn’t touched her but her skin tingled as if he’d just run his
hands over her. She swallowed. “They could come in any time.”

“True.” He lifted one hand, brushing his fingertips across the
curve of her cheekbone.

Lila felt the light touch all the way to her toes, weakening her
knees, softening her resolve. It would be so easy to melt into him, to forget
the children; forget her determination to have a marriage that was grounded in
something more than mutual attraction; forget everything but how good it felt
to be in his arms. She stared up at him, losing herself in the clear blue of
his eyes. His head lowered. He was going to kiss her. Panic fluttered in her
chest. If he kissed her, he’d make her forget all about the plans she’d made.
She’d forget everything but how good it felt to be in his arms.

“My things are in the room next to this,” she got out, her voice
quick and breathless.

“What?” Bishop lifted his head to look at her.

“I want us to have separate rooms.”

Dead silence followed her announcement. Hearing the echo of her
blurted words, Lila winced. This wasn’t the way she’d pictured it. She’d
planned to wait until after the children were in bed and then the two of them
would sit down in the parlor or the kitchen—as far from a bed as possible. He’d
be well fed, perhaps in the mood to appreciate some of the less ... basic
benefits of a marriage. She would calmly explain that she didn’t feel ready to
make their marriage real in every sense of the word. She’d point out that,
since she was already expecting a child, the most obvious reason for them to
share a bed was not a factor. When she pictured the scene in her mind’s eye,
she’d been so reasonable, her arguments so inargua-ble that he’d immediately
agreed with her.

But it hadn’t been part of her plan to blurt it out like a
frightened child.

“You want what?” Bishop’s tone was even—too even?

Lila took a deep breath. “I want us to have separate rooms.” She
stepped sideways and away from him. He didn’t try to stop her. She wanted to
believe that was a good sign, but she suspected it was because he was still
reeling from shock. “It makes sense,” she said as he turned to look at her.

“Does it?” With the window at his back, his face was in shadow,
his expression unreadable.

“Certainly.” She struggled to inject a faint air of surprise into
her response.

“Why?”

The flat question threw her momentarily off balance. Of course
there were any number of reasons why, and she’d expected to have to point at
least a few of them out, but there was something about the way he asked.

“I think we should take some time to get to know each other before
we ... become intimate.”

“You’re carrying my child. That seems pretty intimate to me.”

The dry sarcasm of his response struck a spark off her temper. She
drew a deep breath, reminding herself that no good would come of getting angry.

“That was an ... accident,” she said carefully. “That doesn’t mean
that we really know each other the way a husband and wife should.”

One corner of Bishop’s mustache curled in a sneer. “I suppose what
happened a few days ago was an accident too?”

“It was a mistake,” Lila said evenly. She’d expected him to bring
that up and she had an answer ready. “It was a case of circumstances and ...
and propinquity leading to—”

“No.”

“N-no?”
No to what?

“No separate rooms,” Bishop said flatly, answering the question
she hadn’t quite asked. “You’re my wife. Like it or not, we’ll share a room.
And a bed.”

“I don’t like it,” she snapped, infuriated by his dictatorial
tone. “I don’t like it at all.”

“You should have thought of that before you married me.”

“I don’t recall that I had much choice,” she said bitterly. “You
made sure of that when you strode into the church like some conquering warrior
and announced to all and sundry that I was carrying your child.”

Bishop leaned toward her, his eyes hard as sapphires and just as
blue. “I don’t recall making any announcement. But I do remember you telling
your good friend Logan that I’d raped you so that he’d marry you.”

“He didn’t know it was you.” Lila felt the same mixture of anger
and guilt she always did when she remembered the lie she’d let Logan believe.

“And he would have married me even if he’d known the truth.”

“And do you think he’d have been willing to have separate rooms?”

“Of course.” Lila lifted her chin, her eyes flashing with
righteous indignation. “Logan is a gentleman. He’d never have asked me to do
anything I didn’t wish to do.”

“Well, like I said before, I never claimed to be a gentleman,”
Bishop said in an infuriating drawl. “But I think your good friend Logan might
not have been so eager to sacrifice himself to save your honor if he’d realized
that you expected him to spend the rest of his life celibate.”

“Stop calling him ‘my good friend Logan,’ ” Lila ordered, her
temper soaring. “And I never said anything about it being for the rest of your
life.”

“Oh?” Bishop’s dark brows went up, nearly disappearing into the
heavy black wave of hair that had fallen onto his forehead when he took off his
hat. “So you had some specific length of time in mind? Would it be too
ungentlemanly of me to ask what it is? When do you think we might know each
other well enough to share a bed as well as a name?”

“I can’t predict that.” She turned away from him, crossing the
room with quick, nervous steps. This was a weak point in her argument and she
knew it. How could you put a time limit on something like this? How could she
say that in three months or six months or even three years she’d be able to
give herself to him without reserve? It wasn’t possible to know ahead of time.

“So you want me to just wait and see when your mood changes?”

“It’s not a mood!” She spun to look at him, frustration and anger
turning her eyes a smoky green. “I’m just asking for a little time. Everything
has happened so fast. We hardly know each other. And if you mention what
happened in my room the other day or the fact that I’m carrying your child, I
won’t be responsible for my own actions,” she warned him. “That’s not what I
mean and I think you know it.”