Schulze, Dallas (25 page)

Lila sought a way to allay his fears that Bishop might disappear
from his life again. “Do you remember what I told you? About the reason your
father decided to bring you and Angel with us right away instead of leaving you
in St. Louis until after the baby came?”

Gavin lifted one shoulder in a shrug, his eyes focused on the
floor between them. “Yeah.”

“It was because he thought you were unhappy, remember?”

“That’s what you said.” Clearly, he wasn’t ready to commit himself
to believing her.

“That’s what your father said,” she corrected him. "If he
cares enough about you to bring you along with us, to get us this house to live
in, it doesn’t seem likely that he’d just walk out on us, does it?”

“I don’t know.” Gavin was not so easily won over, but she could
see that he was considering what she’d said.

“Your father is a good man, Gavin. And he takes his
responsibilities seriously. You don’t have to worry about him leaving.”

“I guess.” He shifted restlessly. “Can I go to my room now?”

“Of course.” Lila was amused to find that he’d apparently
forgotten that he was the one who’d started the conversation. “Good night.”

“Good night.” He shot to his feet as if fired from a cannon.

“Gavin?” Lila’s voice caught him in the doorway. He paused, his
reluctance almost palpable as he turned to look at her. “If something ever
happened to your father, I’d still take care of you and Angel. You don’t ever
have to worry about that.”

“Why would you take care of us?” he asked, his eyes wide with
surprise.

“Because we’re family now. And family takes care of each other.”

***

Bishop backed silently away from the door. He’d come back, all set
to lay down the law to his wife. Instead, he’d nearly stumbled into the midst
of her conversation with Gavin. He’d heard it said that eavesdroppers never
heard good of themselves. That might be true, but it was certainly a surefire
way to get a new perspective on things.

He moved into the shadows near the door. Hunching his shoulders
against the chill in the air, he stared out at the dark bulk of the mountains
that loomed against the night sky. Above them, the moonless sky glittered with
stars, sparkling like diamonds against black velvet. From the direction of
Paris, he could faintly hear a piano playing in one of the saloons, the sound
made tinny by distance. In the near distance, a timber wolf howled, a lost and
lonely sound.

We’re family now. Family takes care of each other.
Lila’s
words ran through his mind. A few weeks ago, she hadn’t even known his children
existed. And since their abrupt appearance in her life, Gavin at least had done
little to endear himself to her. Yet she’d offered the boy the reassurance that
she’d care for him, no matter what. It was more than he himself—the boy’s own
father—had offered, Bishop admitted with bitter self-condemnation. And more
than his mother could have given him. Isabelle hadn’t been capable of caring
for herself, let alone her children.

It was a mistake to compare the two women. With her moonlight-pale
hair and fine-boned beauty, Isabelle had been as delicate and fragile as a
china figurine. Lila was sunlight and fire. Where Isabelle had been frightened
of life, Lila faced it head on. From her response to him in bed, to her refusal
to back down from an argument, she was the opposite of Isabelle in every way.

She’d taken his children into her heart, taken this house and
turned it into a home, met every challenge with her chin up and her eyes clear.
She was strong without being unfeminine, tough without losing her softness.
Maybe a woman like that was worth making a few compromises for. Stepping away
from the house, he headed for town, his expression thoughtful. Now was as good
a time as any to take one last look around.

***

Lila slid her needle through the fabric, using her thumbnail
lightly to push the bead into place. Needlework was the one field of feminine
endeavor in which she excelled. Her singing voice could make dogs howl. Her
piano playing was atrocious, and her talent for watercolors was nonexistent,
but, at anything involving a needle and thread, Lila had soon far outstripped
her mother’s own efforts, a fact her mother had pointed out to friends with
considerable pride.

Though she was proficient in most kinds of needlework, when she
was working purely for pleasure, she preferred embroidery in wools or silk.
She’d been working on this particular piece for several months, though she
hadn’t found much time for it in recent weeks and none at all since her
marriage to Bishop. The lambrequin, with its elaborate pattern of scrollwork
and flowers, done in wools and beads, originally had been intended to decorate
one of the mantels at River Walk. She wasn’t sure what she’d do with it now. It
would look rather foolish on the modest mantel in this room. But that was
something she’d worry about later. Right now, it was enough to take pleasure in
seeing the work come to life under her hands.

The sound of the back door opening shattered the fragile peace
she’d found. Bishop was home. After the way he’d stalked out earlier, she’d
half expected him to stay out all night. Her whole body went rigid, her fingers
almost cramping around the needle. She lowered the work to her lap and lifted
her head as he entered the parlor.

“There’s stew, if you’re hungry,” she said, determined not to let
him see how shaken she was.

“No, thanks.” He’d taken off his hat in the kitchen. Now he
shrugged out of his jacket and ran his fingers through his hair. He sank down
into the wing chair, draping his coat over its back. He looked tired, she noted
reluctantly. She didn’t like seeing anything that made him seem human. “Are the
children in bed?” “Yes. Angel all but fell asleep at supper. Gavin went to his
room not long after.”

He nodded. “They seem to be settling in well enough.”

“Children are adaptable,” Lila said by way of agreement. “They
have to be since they’re at the mercy of adults.”

“I guess so.”

There was a brief silence and she was surprised to realize that it
wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Wherever he’d been since he walked out, his mood
seemed to have softened. He leaned forward in the chair, bracing his elbows on
his knees and fixing those piercing blue eyes on her.

“I could make you change your mind,” he said without preamble.

Lila didn’t have to ask what he meant. Their earlier conversation
was vivid in her mind. She felt color slide into her face but she refused to
lower her eyes. “I know you can make me ... respond. But that just makes it
worse—that I can respond like that to a man I barely know.”

“A lot of people are strangers when they marry,” he said.

“I suppose so.” She looked down at the embroidery in her lap,
stroking the tip of her finger over the shading in a leaf. She chose her words
with care, trying to make him understand how she felt. “But my parents’
marriage was one based on affection and trust. It was a blessing they died
together in a way because I don’t think one would have survived long without
the other. I always thought my own marriage would be the same, that I’d marry a
man I loved.”

“Like Logan’s brother? Did you love him?” Bishop asked, not sure
he wanted to hear the answer.

“I loved Billy,” Lila said, more easily than he would have liked.
She continued without lifting her head. “Did you love your first wife?”

“Isabelle?” Bishop hesitated, caught off guard by having his own
question turned around on him. He wasn’t sure how to answer. Had he loved
Isabelle? “I thought I did,” he said slowly.

“Then perhaps you can understand something of what I’m feeling.
I’m not asking for that much—just a little time.”

Bishop was silent, though he’d already made his decision. Damn but
marriage was a lot more complicated than anyone ever admitted.

“I won’t agree to separate rooms,” he said. Lila’s head jerked up,
her eyes bright with temper. He lifted his hand to halt the torrent of angry
words he could sense hovering on her lips. “We’ll share a room and a bed but I
won’t touch you.”

“You won’t touch me?” Lila repeated questioningly.

“I’ll give you the time you want,” he said, feeling suddenly very
tired.

“How much time?” she asked, still dazed by his proposal.

“We can talk again after the baby is born.”

She looked down at her embroidery again, considering his words. It
certainly wasn’t what she’d hoped for. Sharing a bed with him wasn’t what she’d
had in mind. But it was undoubtedly more than many men would have offered. He
would be well within his rights to demand that she accept him as her husband in
the fullest sense of the word. Even those who might sympathize with a maiden’s
uncertainties would look askance at her reluctance considering the intimacies
they’d already shared.

“If we’re not going to be ... intimate, wouldn’t it be simpler to
just have separate rooms?” she asked him.

“No.”

The flat denial left no room for argument. Lila’s mouth tightened
in annoyance. He was the most irritating man. And she’d have been more than
happy to tell him as much, but caution won out over temper. He hadn’t given her
what she wanted but he was willing to compromise. She didn’t want to goad him
into changing his mind.

“Very well,” she said. “We’ll share a room.”

Lila was in bed, the covers drawn up to her chin, when Bishop
entered the bedroom. He didn’t bring a lantern with him so he was only a
silhouette against the darkness—a large, masculine silhouette. She considered
pretending to be asleep but, since she’d come to bed only minutes before, it
didn’t seem likely that he’d believe that. Besides, she was determined to
handle this situation in a mature fashion. She wasn’t going to let him see that
this ridiculous arrangement of his bothered her.

“I was going to leave your nightshirt out for you but I couldn’t
find it,” she said, pleased by her casual tone.

“I don’t wear one.” He shrugged out of his shirt and Lila
swallowed hard.

“You don’t wear one? What do you sleep in?”

He turned toward the bed and she thought she could almost see the
glitter of his eyes. “Nothing.”

She was so busy trying to show how undisturbed she was that it
took her a moment to realize what he’d said.
Nothing?
What did he mean,
nothing? He couldn’t mean he slept...

“You don’t sleep ... You can’t expect to ... You have to wear
something!”

“I don’t.”

“That’s barbaric!”

“It’s comfortable.” His voice held a shrug, as if he couldn’t
understand her concern.

“But you can’t sleep that way now. Not when I ... we.... You said
you wouldn’t touch me!”

“What does one have to do with the other?” he asked, his tone full
of exasperation. “I sleep this way when I’m alone too.”

“But you’re not alone and you can’t just get into bed like that.
With me.” She clutched the covers so tightly that her fingers ached.

“If it bothers you, don’t look,” he said, and she saw his hands
drop to the waist of his pants.

With a gasp, Lila closed her eyes. She didn’t open them until she
felt him lift the covers and slide into bed next to her. His foot brushed
against her calf and her eyes popped open. She stared up at the ceiling, hardly
breathing, but other than that initial contact, he didn’t touch her. Still,
just having him lying next to her was enough to have her heart beating double
time.

She lay there, staring up at the ceiling, her body stiff as a
board, her breathing light and shallow as she struggled to avoid doing anything
that might make him notice her. She had no idea how many minutes passed that
way before Bishop moved.

Lila heard him sigh as he rolled toward her. Supporting his weight
on one elbow, he caught her chin in his fingers and tilted her face to his. Her
protest was reduced to a squeak as his mouth closed over hers. She brought her
hands up to push him away but her traitorous fingers curled into the mat of
hair on his chest instead.

He kissed her thoroughly, his mouth plundering hers with a
ruthless sensuality that swept aside her determination to keep a distance
between them. If he’d chosen to make love to her, she wouldn’t have so much as
whispered a protest. He kissed her until she was limp and clinging, willing to
give him anything he wanted. Her breath left her on a soft sigh as he lifted
his head and looked down at her, the glitter of his eyes faintly visible in the
dim light.

“Now go to sleep,” he told her, his voice husky. He released her,
rolling away, turning on his side so that his back was to her.

It took Lila several seconds to realize what had just happened.
Go
to sleep?
Stunned disbelief slowly gave way to fury. How
dare
he do
this to her? Of all the infuriating, arrogant... male things to do. Obviously
he’d set out to prove that she didn’t have to worry about him losing his
self-control and ravishing her in the middle of the night. And the fact that he
had proved it was thoroughly annoying for some reason she couldn’t quite put
her finger on.