Caress of Fire (15 page)

Gil called the new drovers together to advise them on what he expected–and what he would not put up with. Each man voiced agreement to the terms, then rode out, leaving Lisette alone with her husband.

He strode over to harness the draught horses, and for once she didn't protest having help. For some odd reason, she wasn't feeling up to par.

Inhaling, she asked, “Did I mention I met Mister Hatch the other day?”

Gil nodded. “Peculiar fellow, isn't he?”

“I'll say Do you figure he knows enough about the business to make a valuable contribution?”

“He sits a horse well,” Gil answered with a shrug. “The rest he can learn by trial and error. And Hatch seems eager to be of help.”

“That's true. But he's such a particular man about his appearance. I can't imagine him covered in dust.”

“He accepted the job. He's not too good for it.” Gil patted a horse's neck. Smiling, he winked at his wife. “Speaking of drovers, now that we're flush with help, I want to spend more time with you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I'd like that. It's been wonderful, our time in Lampasas.”

“Now that you've gotten accustomed to bagpipes and kilt,” he commented wryly.

“Oh, now, you. I only objected once to the skirt and that thing of yours.”

After making certain the crew had departed, he shot her a look that was filled with teasing. “I didn't notice you objecting to my thing, Lisette.” Striding up to her, he pulled her close and cupped her buttocks with his hands. “Matter of fact, you seem to have a great regard for Old Son.”

“I was referring to your bagpipes.”

“I was referring to this, my sweet.” He pulled her even closer. “What do you think about our Old Son?”

Her hands smoothed up his shirt to curl into his hair. His hat slid lower on his brow as she answered, “I think,
Liebster,
if you don't cease and desist, you'll find yourself kidnapped for the rest of the day.” On tiptoe, she touched her lips to his. “And the herd will have to go on without us.”

“Not a bad idea,” was his low growl.

Practicality won out, though, and Lisette broke the embrace. “We can't. Not now. But later . . . oh, yes.”

“I'll hold you to it, angel.”

“As long as you're doing the holding, Gilliegorm, I–”

“What did you call me?” He whitened beneath his tan.

“Gilliegorm. That's your name, isn't it?”

One hand went to his forehead so fast that his hat tumbled to the ground. “How did you know?”

“When I opened your Bible today to record our marriage”–she smiled, recalling seeing her bridal bouquet pressed between those sacred pages–“I found an entry for your birth. Naturally, it had your full name written there . . . Gilliegorm.”

“Don't ever call me that again.”

“Why not? I like the name.”

“I do not.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because it sounds silly.”

“You're being silly.” She pressed the tip of her forefinger into the dimple of his chin. “I intend to name our first son after his father.”

“Over my dead body. I've gone to a lot of trouble to keep my name quiet.”

She cuddled against his solid chest. “Your dead body would do me no good. I want you alive–for at least fifty years. We'll have to think of another name for a future son.”

“How about Angus, after my father?”

“How about Hermann, after mine?”

“I think, Mrs. McLoughlin, we should come up with different names. When the time is right.” He dropped a kiss on the crown of her bonnet. “For now we'd better head out, honey, or our cattle drive will be a failure and we'll starve to death. Way before any fifty years is up.”

When she went to take the reins of the draught horses, Gil slid on the seat beside her and took the straps from her hands. “I'm driving, and you're going to sit right here and do nothing but enjoy the ride.”

“Gil, you'll spoil me.”

“I certainly hope so.”

The cedars and rolling hills of central Texas flattened to sparser terrain as the longhorns and their herders moved onward. The Four Aces enterprise crossed the Lampasas River, bypassed the settlement of Hamilton, and forded the river Leon, migrating toward the cowtown of Fort Worth. During their three weeks of travel from the Keystone Hotel, Gil spent a majority of the daylight hours driving the chuck wagon up the cowpath, and Lisette enjoyed every moment of their time together.

Those twenty-one days went without problems, basically. The weather warmed even further, though summer's heat wasn't on them yet. There was an abundance of rain which slowed the procession at times, but the creeks were swollen with the water that kept the grasses high and the herd healthy. Naturally all that rain made for an interesting experience, cooking-wise, but Lisette accepted quickly, if somewhat crossly, to the ordeal of keeping the pots boiling.

The new drovers did their jobs well, including the wraithlike Pigweed and the fastidious Hatch.

The only real blight on the trail drive was a concern which had worried her since joining the company: baby calves.

One afternoon, the longhorns several miles to their rear, Gil stopped the chuck wagon to scout a creek for a possible night camp, and Lisette put pen to paper.

Lisette sealed the letter the moment her husband returned.

Dusting his hands, he said, “I don't like the looks of here. Let's see if we can find a better night-camp.” Again, he took the reins of the draught horses.

For a good thirty minutes they rode along without conversing. Sadie Lou, who usually worked cattle, was taking an infrequent furlough by sleeping atop the bedrolls behind her master. The pungent scent of insecticide –the cowboys, opposed to anything that grew wool, wouldn't allow anyone to call it
“sheep
dip”–wafted from Sadie Lou's nest. Lisette had insisted the dog be bathed and deloused before sharing quarters with them.

The only sounds above the singing of birds and the dog's snores were the jingle of harnesses, the clop of hooves striking rocks, the gentle neighing from the team of six.

Gil turned to Lisette. “You're being quiet this afternoon. Not feeling well?”

“I'm fine,” she hedged and patted his muscled thigh; she felt him tense beneath her touch. It didn't take much to heat her husband's blood. She smiled, thinking how true her thought. And she decided not to mull over calves and the like. She nudged her shoulder against his. “I'll be glad when night falls.”

“Why's that?” he teased, his handsome profile drawing much of Lisette's attention. “Are you wanting to take advantage of my body again?”

“Could be. I like all the sneaking away from camp we've been doing. At night, of course.”

“I miss our nights and
days
at the Keystone Hotel,” he said, his voice rough with passionate recollections. “God, how I miss them. I can't wait for this drive to be over, honey. Then we'll have that honeymoon I promised you. Walking hand in hand along Lake Michigan has more than an air of romance to it, don't you think?”

“It does sound nice,” she returned breathily. “Does your grandmother live on the lake?”

“No, honey, she's on the Mississippi. Chicago is on the lake.”

“I knew that.” She paused. “But there are a lot of things I don't know about you. I know you're mad for your grandmother, your parents are deceased, and I–”

“Been checking up on me?”

“You've told me about your brothers. Andrew and Robert, aren't they? And they've scattered from Illinois.”

“That's right.”

“I hope someday to meet the entire family.”

“Clan, Lisette. Clan.”

“Why did the McLoughlins leave Scotland?”

“To make a better life.”

A wagon wheel hit a rut, bouncing the occupants, cutting into the conversation. It did nothing for her somewhat queasy stomach. She clutched her midsection.

“What's wrong?” was Gil's worried inquiry.

“Breakfast didn't settle quite right.”

“Breakfast, Lisette? We've had
lunch
already.” He looked her up and down. “Anyhow, you've been this way for days.”

“Perhaps it's some sort of malady coming on.”

“Honey, I'm wondering if it's a ‘malady.' Your breasts have been tender, I've noticed. Have you had your flux?”

She blushed. Though it had been easy to talk with Gil lately, she didn't feel comfortable discussing such things as monthlies, yet she wouldn't be dishonest. “I haven't.”

“It's been over a month, right at six weeks, since . . . Maybe your flow will come in a few days.”

She was beginning to doubt it, since her cycles had been as regular as the changing moon. Too, after being around Monika and experiencing the tribulations of her sister-in-law's pregnancies, Lisette concluded her queasy stomach and sentimental mood swings could well be attributed to a child growing in her womb. It was a joyous thought, the idea of bearing Gilliegorm McLoughlin's child.

So joyous, in fact, that her stomach settled down, leaving her feeling moderately robust.

Gil popped the reins. “You're probably catching a bug.”

“What if it's a baby?”

“Then we'll become parents, Mrs. McLoughlin.”

“Will that suit you?” she asked and held her breath.

“Absolutely.” Taking the leather lashes in one hand, he reached to hug her to him with the other. “Positively.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her bonnet. “I'll be the proudest papa in the world.”

Lisette had never dreamed she could be this happy.

Again she studied her husband's profile. Though he seemed pleased at the prospects, she couldn't help wondering . . . “Gil, a while back, you told me your former wife bore a child. Do you feel comfortable enough to tell me what happened?”

His shoulders stiffened. “Comfortable enough? It's a sordid chapter in my life I'd rather forget.”

“And leave me forever curious?”

He settled a booted foot on the splashboard, and from under the brim of his hat, peered at the ragged plains of north central Texas.

At last he turned his face to Lisette and said, “Let's go for a talk.”

He helped her down from the chuck wagon, leaving Sadie Lou to her nap, and held Lisette's hand as they negotiated the hard ground. When she saw the tension in his fingers and in his expression, she regretted asking her question.

“Maybe we should forget it,” she suggested.

“No. You asked, and I can't and won't skate around my past, since it's obviously on your mind.” Stopping near a ridge, he let go of her hand and walked to the shade of an elm tree. He stood under its shade and ran a hand down his mouth. “You'd better sit down, honey. This may take a while.”

In the form of all cowboys, he scissored smoothly to the ground; he sat about a yard in front of her. His hand grasping the brim of his hat, he set it aside, then peered at the sky, as if the action might lend strength to his words.

“I guess I should start at the beginning.” Drawing up a knee and dropping a forearm to it, he spoke slowly. “Sherman granted me leave after the Vicksburg campaign. Went home to Rock Island. Maisie had been having a time of it, working the farm. Had to get her hands on money, you see. Maisie's wild for it, and stingy with its parting. Anyway, she was supplying apples for the prisoner-of-war camp close to Rock Island,” he explained, “on the banks of the Mississippi.”

“Go on,” she prompted. “Tell me more about your marriage.”

He stood, relocating to grip the elm's lowest branch. “My heart beat between my legs. And Betty was beautiful.”

Jealousy snaked through Lisette. She didn't want her husband thinking any woman beautiful except her. Only once, when he'd seduced her under the oak tree, had he remarked on her looks.

Always, others had commented on her “beauty,” yet she had never basked in their praise, since she considered herself rather ordinary, and she'd never thought herself vain until this moment. She wanted Gil to think her beautiful, though.

But she was brown-faced and disheveled, despite the Lampasas purchases. She glanced at her hands. Lanolin had done little for their coarse texture. Moreover, she feared she was getting to fat. Could she attribute her weight gain to a baby? Surely not . . . it was too early for extra poundage.

“She wasn't as beautiful as you, understand. My splendid wife, have I ever told you how I feel about your looks?”

As much as his words placated her jealousy, this wasn't the moment for dwelling on herself. “I'd rather you tell me about Elizabeth . . . I mean, Betty . . . and the child she bore.”

A moment stretched before Gil answered, “I met her through her father. Major Dobbs was in charge of procuring rations for the prisoners. Anyhow, I was randy, and Betty was full of wiles. I guess I was smitten.”

In the beginning he had scoffed at the concept, but she felt confident it was only a matter of time before he spoke those words. And shouldn't actions count more than words? Gil had been wonderful to her here. She corrected her thoughts. Except for the hell between their first mating and the Keystone Hotel, he had always been wonderful. Stubborn, yes, when he had refused to hire her, both in Fredericksburg and at the encampment where she'd found him, and he had wanted to keep her away from the trail drive. But he was indulgent, caring, and protective. Protective, such as he'd been when that awful Blade Sharp had accosted her.

She said, “You went home, met a girl, and married.”

“Showed myself to be a gullible fool is what I did. I'd assumed Betty was pure.”

Lisette went to her beloved husband. She put her hand on his arm, the warmth of her loving concern going into her action. It seemed to give him the strength to go on.

Lacing the fingers of his free hand with the ones grasping his arm, he squeezed gently. “She knew which strings to pull, knew how to keep me in line. Betty held out for marriage. But she'd been spreading her legs for every available male in Rock Island County. I didn't find out till the wedding night.”

God in heaven, that's why he was so unnerved upon discovering
my
impurity
!

“She took special delight in mocking me with tales of her escapades.”

Her heart going out to his pain, Lisette ached for his battered pride. And she understood his reluctance to hear her explanations about Thom.

“Damn her for hurting you.” Lisette spoke vehemently. “You're too good to be hurt.”

“Your trust never ceases to amaze me.” Gil smiled. “But I wonder why you have such faith in me?”

Because I love you
. Now wasn't the time to express her sentiments. She decided such an announcement would be proper when or if she confirmed her suspicions about their child.

She whispered, “Please go on.”

“I married her. Our time together was a pit of perdition. Never slept together unless I was in my cups and in desperate need of physical release.” Gil kicked at a loose stone, sending the pebble flying against the tree trunk. “General Sherman called me back to duty for the Atlanta campaign. I caught enemy fire in my leg. I wasn't in danger of dying, unless infection set in, of course,” he went on. “Betty showed up at the field hospital. By then I was on the mend. My defenses were weak, though. I didn't stop to think on why she'd traveled from Illinois to be at my side or put herself in the middle of battle. She was carrying on real sweet-like. I should've gotten a clue right there.”

His bitterness arced through the air, hit Lisette full force as he squeezed the tree limb with such emotion that the leaves shook. He claimed not to care about the woman, yet why was he so visibly unnerved after these many years?