"You are not…"
She ran to him and put her finger over his mouth to stop his protest. "If I don't go out, he'll start shooting his gun in the air. The noise is going to wake Parker. Do you want him to hear the baby? Now, help me get dressed so I can placate the man. Please."
He pulled her hand away from his mouth and held on to her. "It's out of the question. I'm going out and kill the bastard. You got that?"
"No."
"It'll be a fair fight," he promised. "I'll make him draw."
She frantically shook her head at him. "Stop being so stubborn. Boyle won't be drawn into a fight. The man's a coward, Douglas. There isn't time to argue about this. You can protect me just fine from the front window. If he looks like he's going to hurt me, then you can come outside and make him leave. You aren't going to kill him though. Do you understand me?" The set of his jaw told her he didn't understand. "Please? Restrain yourself for my sake. All right?"
"Honest to God, I sure would like to-"
She stopped him cold by touching his cheek. "But you won't."
He wouldn't agree or disagree. "Maybe," was all he would allow.
She rolled her eyes heavenward. "The belt, please. Get the belt."
He took his own off and handed it to her. "You're not wearing anything that belonged to Parker."
The issue seemed to matter to him, and since his pants stayed put on the tilt of his hips, she didn't waste time arguing.
As soon as he went back to the window to check Boyle's progress, she got ready. She was still swollen around the middle, but not nearly enough to look as though she were drawing close to the delivery date she and Dr. Simpson had given Boyle.
She joined Douglas as Boyle was just reaching the flat at the base of the hill.
"Do I look as pregnant as I'm supposed to be?"
"I guess so."
She put her hand on his arm. "You're supposed to look at me before you decide."
He finally gave her a quick once-over. He didn't like what he saw and frowned to let her know exactly how he felt. Isabel was dressed in a white blouse and a dark blue jersey jumper that ballooned out around her middle, and in his opinion, she was too attractive for the bastard to see. Was she deliberately trying to entice him? No, of course she wasn't. She couldn't help being pretty, and unfortunately, he couldn't come up with any ideas to radically change her appearance… unless she was willing to wear a burlap bag over her head. He didn't bother to suggest it though, because he knew she wouldn't do it.
"Button up your blouse."
"It is buttoned."
"Not the top two," he said. He put his gun back in his holster and took over the chore. "He isn't going to see any more of you than he has to," he told her.
His fingers rubbed against the bottom of her chin. How in heaven's name could any woman have such silky skin?
"He won't hurt me," she whispered.
His gaze moved to hers. "I'll make certain he doesn't hurt you. If I have to kill him, I don't want to hear any argument. Agreed?"
"Yes."
"Come on then. He's coming up to the cabin."
She reached for the doorknob, her attention on Douglas while she waited for him to get into position by the window. She didn't wait for him to give her permission to go outside because she knew she'd stand there the rest of the day if she wanted the stubborn man to give her his approval.
"I'm going out now."
"Isabel?"
"Yes?"
"Don't you dare smile at him."
Chapter Six
Boyle was as ugly as sin. His face was covered with pockmarks, his eyes were set too close together, and his lips all but disappeared when he closed his mouth. The man looked like a chicken. Douglas wasn't surprised by his appearance though. The fact that he had to resort to terrorizing a woman in order to get married indicated the bastard had a serious problem attracting the fairer sex, and most women who had learned to look deeper would have been sickened by the evil lurking inside.
Douglas willed the man to move his hand toward his gun. Boyle wouldn't accommodate him. He didn't even bother to glance toward the window, but kept his gaze firmly directed on his prey.
Isabel held her own against him. "I told you to get off of my land. Now, get…"
"Is that any way to talk to your future husband, girl? And me planning a real party wedding for you. You're looking worried today. Are you getting scared about birthing that thing all alone?"
"You've got ten seconds to leave or I'll use this rifle."
"You'd go to prison if you did."
"No jury would ever convict me. Everyone in Sweet Creek hates you as much as I do. Now, leave me alone."
He pointed his finger at her. "You watch your tongue around me, girl. I don't like sass. You've still got your fire inside you, and I'm going to have to do something about that after we're hitched. You will beg me to marry you, you know. It's only a matter of time."
She was cocking the rifle when he dug the spurs into his horse and rode away.
"I'll be back," he shouted. The threat was followed by his grating laughter.
Douglas kept Boyle in his sights until he was halfway across the field. Isabel came inside, shut the door softly behind her, and sagged against it.
"Damn, he's ugly," he muttered.
She nodded agreement. "He won't come back for another two weeks."
"Maybe," he allowed. "We're still going to be prepared for anything. Dr. Simpson told me Boyle will be leaving for some kind of family get-together."
"He's going away? Oh, Douglas, that's wonderful news."
"Simpson said he usually stays a month to six weeks with his family in the Dakotas. We aren't going to let our guard down or get lackadaisical."
"No, of course not. May I ask you something?"
He kept his gaze on the shadow starting up the path. "Sure."
"Won't you look at me?" she asked.
"Not until Boyle goes over the rise."
"I don't understand what's come over you. You told me you didn't want to let Boyle see you and that as long as he continues to think I'm all alone, he'll be content to wait…"
"That was before I knew you always went outside to speak to him."
"But-"
"I don't like it."
She rolled her eyes heavenward. "Obviously not," she replied. "I'm still going to continue to go out every time he comes here, like it or not."
"We'll discuss it later. You shouldn't get upset, Isabel. The doctor said it isn't good for you."
"For heaven's sake, I'm not sick. Surely you've noticed I'm getting much stronger every hour. So is my son."
"Eight weeks from the minute Parker arrived," he announced with authority. "That's how long it will take him to get stronger."
"Surely not."
"Eight weeks," he stubbornly insisted.
"When will you be leaving?"
He smiled. "In eight weeks, unless you or Parker gets into trouble. Maybe longer. And by the way, Isabel, you and your son are going with me. I'm getting you out of here."
"No, you're not. I won't be run out of my own home. Do you understand me? No one is going to chase me off of my land."
Too late, he realized he'd upset her. Her voice had taken on a shrill quality, and when he looked at her, he saw the tears brimming in her eyes. He quickly tried to calm her.
"You can do what you want," he lied. "As long as it's eight weeks from now."
"You can't possibly stay here that long. I assure you
I'll be fully recovered sooner than that and Parker will be much stronger. We'll be just fine. We'll miss you, of course." Desperately so, she silently added.
He didn't know what compelled him to do it, but he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "You seem to be having trouble grasping numbers, sugar. I'm not leaving for eight weeks. Want me to tell you how many days that is?"
She knew he was teasing her but didn't have the faintest idea how to respond. Her husband had always been terribly serious about eve
rything. He never flirted, nor did she, yet she knew Douglas was now doing just that. She decided to get away from him for a few minutes. She couldn't seem to think when he was so close.
"It's your decision," she said, "I won't be plagued by guilt, and if you don't mind staying, I… I mean to say, we… I have a baby, you know, and we'll be happy to have you around." She knew she was stammering her explanation. She'd also lied to him. She wouldn't be happy if he stayed. She would be ecstatic.
"Why don't you take your nap now?"
He was saying something to her, but she couldn't make herself pay any attention. She was trying to figure out how such a ruggedly handsome man had managed to remain unattached so long. He had to be close to thirty if her guess was right. Perhaps he wasn't unattached after all. There could be a beautiful young lady patiently waiting for his return. Yes, that was it. She was probably very refined and elegant too, and Isabel imagined she had gold-colored hair that wasn't at all unruly with curls.
"Why did you kiss me?" she blurted out.
"I felt like it. Did you mind?"
"No… I didn't mind."
She told herself to snap out of her stupor. It was high time she faced a few important facts. She wasn't a naive young lady with hopes and dreams and yearnings to be loved. She was a widow with a baby who depended on her. She couldn't and wouldn't change her past. She had been blessed to have a dear friend for a companion, and now she had his beautiful son.
Still, there wasn't any harm in daydreaming about a future she could never have, was there? Wasn't it natural to wonder what it would feel like to be loved by a man like Douglas? Thinking about it seemed like a natural curiosity on her part. That was all. He was so strong and hard and sensual, and she'd never known anyone quite like him. Why, even though she was a new mother and didn't physically want him, she couldn't help but notice the erotic, earthy aura about him. Besides, there wasn't anything wrong with appreciating the wonderful differences between them, and, Lord, he was masculine all right.
He'd be a demanding lover, and he wouldn't stop until she had…
Good Lord, what was she doing? She forced the outrageous fantasy out of her mind.
"I believe I'll rest for a little while." He looked as if he was amused by her remark.
"Sounds good to me," he teased.
She turned, stumbled over something littering the floor, and yet hurried on. He followed her.
"Axe you feeling all right?" he asked.
"Yes."
"You seem a little preoccupied."
"I need a nap, Douglas. I'm a brand-new mother and I must rest."
He leaned against the doorframe and refused to budge when she tried to shut the door.
"I would like some privacy so that I can change my clothes. I'll give you your belt back later."
"It's on the floor in the other room with the towels you used to look pregnant."
She didn't believe him until she put her hand on her waist. Good Lord, when had they fallen, and why hadn't she noticed?
"Want to tell me what you were thinking about a minute ago?" She could feel herself blushing. "This and that."
"Is that what you call it?" he asked.
"The horses," she blurted out at the very same time. "Minerva and Pegasus. Yes, the Arabian stallion is Pegasus and his mate is Minerva. Didn't I tell you their names already?"
"Just Pegasus."
She really wished he would go away for a little while. The way he was looking at her was making her feel self-conscious and as awkward as a little girl. "What have you been calling my Arabians?"
"This and that."
He slowly brushed the back of his fingers down her cheek. "I think you should know something. I'm real partial to women with freckles. Yours drive me wild." He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth quick and hard. "By the way," he whispered, "I'm having some real wild thoughts about you too."
He stunned the breath out of her, and he knew it. That was why he winked at her before he turned around and walked away. She stared after him until he disappeared into the kitchen; then she shut the door and fell back against it. Dear God, he'd known all the while what she was thinking about, and she was never, ever going to be able to look at him again.
She was mortified. She must have given herself away, but how in heaven's name had she done that? She didn't know, and she wasn't going to ask him. She wasn't going to have another scandalous thought about him for the rest of her life. In fact, she wouldn't think about him at all.
She threw herself down on the bed and groaned. She fell asleep a few minutes later with her feet hanging over the side of the bed, her shoes and stockings on, and one thought flitting through her mind. He liked freckles.
Chapter Seven
He also liked games. He asked her during supper if she happened to have a deck of cards, which she did, and then he suggested they play poker.
"Have you ever played five card stud?"
"Oh, yes. I'm good too."
The challenge was issued. They played five hands before Parker demanded to be fed. It was past time for her to go to bed anyway, because she was looking as though she was about to doze off any minute.
At her insistence, he added up their scores and told her the amount she owed him.
She stood up, yawned, and said, "I'll pay you back with my earnings tomorrow night when we play chess."
He laughed. "Are you good at chess too?"
"Wait and see."
Chess was his game. The following evening, he proved it to her by destroying her in a matter of minutes. He decided she obviously hadn't played a lot of checkers after he'd won five games in a row. By the end of the week, she owed him over a thousand dollars.
Douglas changed the rules from then on. He told her he had a much better idea. Instead of money, the winner could ask any question he or she wanted. No matter how personal the topic, an answer was required.
Suddenly, her skills improved. She won three games before he caught on to her ploy.
"You were deliberately letting me win, weren't you?"
"Some men like to win."
"Most men like to win fairly. From now on, we both play to win. Agreed?"
"Yes," she replied. "We should probably start all over. I let you win last night too."
He tore up the sheet of paper with the totals before handing the deck of cards to her. She shuffled the cards like a dealer in Tommy's saloon, drawing a laugh from him.
"You little con."
"I've played a lot of cards," she admitted.
"No kidding."
She proved how good she was by winning the next game. Before he had even showed her his pitiful hand consisting of two jacks, she asked her question.
"You told me you were a thief, remember? I want to know when and where."
"When I was a boy, living on the streets of New York City. I took pretty much anything I wanted."
Her eyes widened in disbelief, yet her voice sounded as though she was in awe of his criminal background. "Did you ever get caught?"
"No, I never got caught. I was lucky."
After she'd won the following game, she asked him to tell her about his family. He explained how he, Travis, Cole, and Adam had joined together to become a family when they found a baby in a trash pile.
Isabel was fascinated, asked him a countless number of questions, and before he realized it, he'd talked for over an hour. By the time he was finished, he'd told her about his sister's husband, Harrison, and Travis's new bride, Emily. He saved the best for last and spoke in a soft voice when he talked about his Mama Rose.
"You know it's kind of odd really, now that I think about it, but Mama Rose is the reason I'm here. She heard about the Arabians and wanted me to come and see them. I was too busy at the time, and so I asked Travis to stop by the auction for me."
"Parker was going to sell Pegasus at an auction? That can't be true. The only time he left Sweet Creek was to go to an attorney's office way up in River's Bend. Paddy went with him, and I'm certain the
y both came back here right away."
Too late, Douglas realized he'd brought up a sore topic. "They probably stopped to rest their horses, that's all. By the way, Dr. Simpson told me about Paddy. Was he really crazy?"
"No, but everyone in town thought he was. He just had a few peculiarities. I got to know him quite well because he came to supper at least four times a week. He was much closer to Parker though. The two of them would put their heads together and talk in whispers well into the night. It was an odd friendship."
"Did Parker ever tell you what they talked about?"
"No, he was very secretive about it, so I didn't pester him to tell me. He said he'd promised Paddy not to discuss whatever plans they were hatching. I miss the Irishman. He had such a good heart. Did you know he was here before Sweet Creek was even a town?"
"No, I didn't," he said. "Tell me, did Parker keep other secrets from you?"
"If you're thinking he was going to sell Pegasus behind my back, you're wrong. Parker and I grew up together at an orphanage near Chicago, and I know everything there is to know about him. He wouldn't have done such a thing. He knew how much the horses meant to me. The sisters at the orphanage gave them to me so that I would have a dowry when I left them."
"Where did they get the Arabians?"
"They were donated to the orphanage by a man they took in. He was dying, and it was his way of thanking them, I suppose. He didn't have any relatives, and he was terrified of dying alone. The sisters sat with him day and night."
Douglas could see she was getting melancholy and quickly turned the topic. "Have I satisfied your curiosity about my family?"
She stopped frowning and shook her head. "How did Travis meet his wife, Emily?"
Douglas answered her question, and by the time he was finished, she was smiling again. It was obvious she had put the matter of Parker's selling Pegasus out of her mind for the moment.
"Does everyone like Emily?"
There was a yearning quality in her voice he didn't quite understand. Was she worried about the newest member of their family? If so, why?