A Lady of the West (40 page)

He went to the bed where Emma was slowly wiping Victoria's face with the cloth. Victoria's breathing was slower now, but she was still deathly pale and her eyes were closed. “Shouldn't she be getting over this by now?” he asked, his tone rougher than he'd intended.

Emma didn't look up. “It's just beginning.”

He stepped back. Either Emma was lying or Victoria had duped her, too. Once he would never have believed Victoria capable of such deception, but then he would never have believed her capable of the killing rage he'd seen in her eyes just a short while ago, either. He couldn't understand why she was so fiercely protective of the baby she carped, since she had hated its father, he felt as betrayed by that as he did by the fact that she had tried to give it his name. But a mother of any species was ten times more dangerous when protecting her young than a hungry male ever was. He had underestimated the strength of that instinct in Victoria. When he looked at it like that he could almost forgive her.

Carmita rushed back into the room with a plain tortilla and a cup of water. She sat on the bed and tore off a small portion of the tortilla which she pushed between Victoria's lips, despite her weak protest.

“You must eat it, señora. It will settle your stomach, you'll see.”

Victoria didn't much care; she was beyond caring. But she chewed the flat-tasting tortilla and swallowed. To her vague surprise her stomach didn't revolt. Carmita fed her half of the tortilla, then gave her a small sip of water. “That's enough for now, señora. Rest and soon you'll feel much better.”

Victoria willingly closed her eyes. She heard rustles of clothing and retreating footsteps, then the door closed and she inhaled once, deeply, and slept.

It was a short nap, but when she woke half an hour later she felt so well that it was hard to believe she'd been so violently ill less than an hour before. She lay still for a moment just to be sure, but her stomach was blissfully steady. She opened her eyes, sat up, and found Jake watching her.

She was shocked to realize he'd been sitting there the whole time. She saw a faint red mark on his tanned
cheek. It was the only remaining evidence of her slap, and it astonished her anew. She'd never before in her life struck another human being.

“Why are you here?” she asked, sliding off the bed. With Jake anywhere close by, lying on a bed was risky.

“I wanted to make certain you're all right.”

“I feel fine.” She walked to the mirror and began repairing the damage done to her hair.

He came up behind her, dwarfing her reflection. “Come back to our room, Victoria.”

She could feel the force of his will like an iron hand pressing down on her. He fully expected her to obey him; after all, his will had prevailed in everything from the very first. He had the power to enforce his orders and was willing to do whatever was necessary. She had been trained to believe it was a wife's duty to obey her husband; if the issue had been anything less important, she knew she would have given in without a struggle. But she couldn't give in on this. She gave her head a slow shake. “No.”

He put his hands on her waist and drew her back against him. His head dipped and he pressed his mouth to her hair. “You need someone to look after you if you get sick during the night.”

The heat from his body made her weak. What he offered weakened her, all the more so because it would have been so right for her baby's father to lie beside her during the nights and hold her while she was ill. But she couldn't go back into his arms knowing he hated the life growing in her, knowing that he wanted her back only for the sexual pleasure she could give him. It would be impossible for him to deny
that
charge, she thought, since she could feel his hard length against her buttocks.

It would have been so easy to let herself relax, to lie back against him and let his strength support her. Because it was so easy, she didn't dare let herself do it for a minute. She straightened and returned her
attention to the task of pinning up her hair. “If I need anyone, I'll call Emma.”

“Why disturb Emma when you could be in bed with me?”

“Why be in bed with you when I could disturb Emma?”

Anger darkened his face and drew his brows down. “I've tried to reason with you, but now I'm telling you. Put your things back in our bedroom and your ass back in our bed tonight, or I'll do it even if I have to carry you over my shoulder for the entire household to see.”

“Maybe if you're violent enough you'll be able to make me lose the baby.”

Her hissed words stunned him. For the first time he realized that if he did move her back into their bedroom he really would have to use force to do it. Until now he'd imagined that their estrangement had continued due to his own grievances, that when his anger calmed enough for him to tell her to return, she would do it. He'd expected her to balk, expected recriminations, expected to have to give her his sincere apology for having struck her and his equally sincere promise that it would never happen again, but he'd also fully expected to have her back in his bed that very night.

But now he saw that while he might be ready to end their estrangement, she wasn't. She wasn't about to forgive him.
She
was angry at
him,
and he had his stinging cheek to prove it. If his cheek was still burning, how had her face felt after his blow? Her slap had snapped his head around, but his had knocked her off her feet. A woman was helpless against a man, and he knew it. He'd never felt anything but contempt for a man who raised his hand to a woman, and now his contempt was turned on himself.

“No,” he said in a tight, strained voice. “I won't do anything to hurt you or the baby.”

“Then you'll leave us alone.”

“Jesus.” He was suddenly tired, as if he'd put in a long day branding calves. Victoria was as unbending as steel, and he didn't know what else he could say. He'd sworn he wouldn't hurt her, but it hadn't made any difference. Maybe he hadn't given her enough time, maybe her pregnancy was making her irrational. He didn't know what it was, but he was wary of pushing her too far.

“All right, I'll leave you alone. When you decide you're ready to sleep with me again, all you have to do is open the door and crawl into bed. But don't wait too long. I might find some other woman who's willing to do what you won't.”

She waited until he got to the door, then said, “Like the Major?”

He froze for a moment, his back stiffening, then left the room without a word.

Victoria dragged through the days. The symptoms of early pregnancy were upon her with a vengeance. Some mornings she was so sick that nothing seemed to settle her stomach. Even on the days when she thought the nausea would be mild, it took only a stray odor to send her stumbling for a basin or chamberpot. Her bladder seemed to be permanently and uncomfortably full; her sleep was so disturbed by her frequent trips to the chamberpot that she was dull and sleepy during the day. Most of all, her emotions were rioting. She cried easily, and lecturing herself had no effect on the endless tears.

The household was divided into those who knew and those who didn't. Carmita, Lola, Juana, and Celia knew only that Victoria was pregnant and were full of cheerful planning and advice on childbirth, childrearing, and names. They knew Jake and Victoria had quarreled, but didn't begin to suspect the extent of it.

Emma and Ben were the only other people who knew the circumstances behind Victoria's move to a
separate bedroom. Ben was scrupulously polite to her, but there was a chill in his eyes. Emma didn't rebuke Jake by either word or deed, but she was cold to Ben because she felt he didn't have any right to pass judgment on Victoria.

The only censure Jake felt was from Victoria, and he endured it. What else could he do? She was too sick for him to press the issue, and as the days became weeks his biting anger changed to concern. Rather than gaining weight, she had lost several pounds. Her waist was reed-slender and her dresses were becoming loose. Her complexion was alternately pale, gray, and greenish, and there were permanent dark circles under her eyes.

She should be showing her pregnancy by now, if everything were normal. He lay awake at night, tormented by the worry that something had gone wrong. Why wasn't the sickness going away as he'd heard it should well before now? He wasn't concerned for the baby, but about the possibility that he might lose Victoria, too. He began remaining close to the house as much as he could, so he would be on hand if she became seriously ill. God, if she would only stop vomiting so much. Almost nothing stayed down.

But being so ill hadn't changed her hostility toward him. It was in her eyes every time she looked at him, in the way she carefully kept out of his reach and answered him only in a one-syllable monotone, if possible.

She hadn't forgiven him. He was the one wronged, but she hadn't forgiven him. For the first time he began to wonder if she really would leave after the baby was born, and how he would handle it if she chose McLain's child over him. The only alternative, though, was to let her raise the child here on his ranch, and that he couldn't do.

“Victoria and Jake aren't happy,” Celia told Luis, lying in his arms beneath a tree. They were in the
middle of a copse, hidden from view by anyone who might happen by. They had become adept at finding places to make love, and Celia mildly enjoyed the intrigue. These past weeks had been the happiest of her life, as if all the pieces had finally come together and she was what she had been meant to be. Making love with Luis was so natural and perfect that she didn't give a thought to the rules and restrictions Victoria had taught her. Celia was by nature a complete sensualist, and she had taken to lovemaking with guilt-free enthusiasm.

“No one is happy all the time,” he said lazily. They were lying naked on a blanket, and he was sated from their loving.

“But they aren't happy at all now. Victoria looks so ill; I'm worried about her. And she won't speak to Jake at all unless he speaks to her first.”

“They've just had a quarrel, that's all. They'll make up.”

“It's been weeks now, and they haven't made up.”

Luis acknowledged that Jake had certainly been in a bad mood for a long time now. He hadn't wondered at the reason, having more or less assumed it had something to do with Victoria being pregnant. Pregnant women could be hell to live with, he knew. And with Victoria being so ill Jake obviously hadn't been finding any pleasure in bed, which in Luis's opinion was enough to make any man bad-tempered.

Celia propped up on an elbow, her golden hair spilling to the side and covering his shoulder. Her dark blue eyes were sad. “I don't think Jake wants the baby.”

“Why do you say that,
chica?
Most men are proud when their wives become pregnant.”

“He doesn't like to talk about the baby. He doesn't seem excited about it at all, and a lot of times he'll get up and walk out of the room if we start talking about it.”

It sounded to Luis as if there was very serious trouble with the boss's marriage, but there was nothing he could do about it. The delicate beauty of Celia's breasts drew him, and he circled one nipple with his forefinger, fascinated by the contrast between his brown skin and the milky fairness of hers. She stopped talking and drew in a breath, as he had known she would, her eyes getting darker and her lashes lowering.

“Perhaps they aren't happy, but I am,” he said in the slower, deeper tones of arousal.

She smiled, the calm, confident smile of a woman that was new to her. She stroked her hand down his sleek, powerful body and closed it around his erection. “Yes, you look happy,” she said as she bent to kiss him, but the real happiness was in herself.

He was so beautiful he took her breath away. She lived every day for the time when they would slip away and she would be in his arms again. Loving him was so wonderful she couldn't associate what they did together with what the Major and Garnet had wanted to do with her. Celia didn't dream of Luis in terms of marriage and babies, ideas that were alien to her because she had always lived only for the moment. She dreamed of him as he was now, naked and reaching for her, his dark eyes hot with passion.

Victoria was having a good day, finally, so Emma took advantage of it and slipped out to the stables. She quickly saddled her horse and rode out, desperate to get out of the house for just a little while. If all women got as sick as Victoria had with this baby, she didn't understand how a woman could bear to have more than one. If it went on much longer, Victoria would be dangerously weak.

The gelding had been feeling pent-up, too; she gave him his head and he stretched out in a full gallop. The rush of air cleared the cobwebs from her mind. She
lost some of her hairpins and her hair came tumbling down, but she didn't care. For just an hour she was free.

Over the thunder of her own horse's hooves, she didn't hear the other horse coming up behind her until a bobbing head stretched out past her knee and a gloved hand reached in front to take her reins. Startled, she swung her riding crop before she saw who it was, and Ben flung up his arm to keep the whip from landing across his face.

“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled, pulling both horses to a stop.

Emma was stricken at what she had nearly done. “I'm sorry,” she said, her cheeks losing their color. “I didn't know who it was. Why did you grab my reins?” “I thought the horse was out of control.” She shook her head. “No, I was just letting him run. He's been as cooped up as I have.” She gave him a quick glance. “It seems we both were mistaken, weren't we?” Ben ignored that. “I told you not to ride alone.” She sat in the saddle and looked at him with an expression that calmly denied him the right to tell her what to do. She was too tired to fight, but she simply wasn't going to sit in the house like a child if she wanted to ride.