Woman of Grace (14 page)

She knew she could pretend to respond; she certainly knew how. But to encourage him when her heart was still so conflicted wasn’t right or fair. So she ended the kiss and, with a rueful sigh, smiled up at him.

“Perhaps we should be getting back to the house. I’ve still a bit of cleaning up to do in the kitchen, and I promised Conor I’d help Abby with her bath.”

“You’re always so busy caring for others.” Though Evan had allowed the kiss to end, he had yet to release her. “Isn’t it about time you did something for yourself?”

Unease curled within her. “Evan, I—”

This time it was Evan’s turn to silence her. “Don’t say another word, sweetheart,” he whispered huskily. “Just listen, and let me finish.” As if to add emphasis to his plea, he placed a finger to her lips.

“You know how I feel about you,” he continued. “You know I’ve wanted our relationship to grow far deeper for a long while now. Well, I think it’s time, Hannah. I love you, and I want you to become my wife.”

She had known this moment was inevitable. A woman would’ve had to be blind not to see the love and yearning growing in Evan’s eyes with each passing day. But try as she might, her own emotions weren’t keeping pace with his. Was there no way to put him off just a little while longer?

It was shameful to admit, but Hannah wasn’t yet ready to relinquish the security and hope for the future that Evan offered. And what would happen to her current position of favor if she refused Evan’s offer of marriage?

Perhaps she was wrong to doubt the goodness and sincerity of Abby and Conor MacKay. She had never known such kind and generous people. But people had turned on her, betrayed her, countless times before. Did she dare risk opening herself and Jackson to such potential pain?

With a tender touch, Hannah caressed Evan’s cheek. “Ah, Evan,” she breathed. “You do me great honor in asking me to become your wife. I’m the luckiest girl in the whole wide world.”

Joy flared in his smoky blue eyes. “Then you will? You’ll marry me?”

“I think about it a lot but”—Hannah lowered her gaze—“I’m still not ready yet.” She looked back up at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to put you off, but there are still things unsettled, things I need to work through before I can be a good wife to anyone.”

His eyes glittered. Hannah could tell he was sifting through all the possible “things” she could be talking about.

“Is it … does your hesitation have to do with the marital act?” he ventured gently.

Of all the questions he could’ve asked, that particular one took Hannah by surprise. The sexual act, whether illicit or sanctified by the holy bonds of matrimony, was just that to Hannah—an act. She had learned long ago to divest any emotion from it, and to perform as expected.

“No, Evan.” She smiled and shook her head. “I’m not worried about what we’d share in the marriage bed. I know you’d be kind and gentle with me.”

He frowned. “Then what, Hannah? What else is still unsettled that keeps you from agreeing to become my wife?”

“Oh, excuse me, Hannah. I thought you were alone.”

At the unexpected sound of Devlin’s voice rising from the darkness, Hannah gasped and jerked from Evan’s clasp. She whirled around.

Devlin scowled in irritation. From his front porch he had seen Hannah, dressed in a pale dress, move briefly at the edge of the cottonwoods, then disappear into the shadows. She was, he had supposed, out on a late summer’s evening walk.

Immediately, an impulse to speak with her had filled him. The sooner he knew her decision about whether she would return to work for him, the sooner he would know what to do next.

Dread had held him back, though. Dread of having to humble himself to ask another favor of her for his family. Dread of the humiliation he must endure in order to apologize for how he had treated her in the past.

But Devlin also knew the only way to ease his dread was to just get it over with. Problem was, he hadn’t expected to find the ever-protective and increasingly possessive Evan with Hannah. So there he stood just outside the tree’s sheltering canopy of leaves, backlit by the moonlight, his face in shadows, unsure what to say or do next.

Hannah shared his dilemma. For a speechless moment, all she could do was stare up at him. He was dressed in his usual boots, denims, and white cotton work shirt rolled up at the elbows. In one hand he clutched a briar pipe that glowed red in the darkness.

“I … I didn’t know you smoked a pipe,” she choked out lamely, as the aromatic scent of burning tobacco reached her nostrils.

“This?” As if noticing it for the first time, Devlin lifted the pipe and turned it in his hand. “I rarely smoke, but every once in a while on a warm summer’s night I get an urge to sit out on my front porch. A pipe just seems to fit in right nicely then.”

“Well, why don’t you just mosey on back to your porch and smoke that pipe then?” Evan growled, stepping out from behind Hannah. “In case you couldn’t tell, we were having a private conversation.”

Devlin cocked his head and eyed Evan. Standing between the two men, Hannah felt caught in a crossfire of masculine animosity. From almost her first day at Culdee Creek, she had been a bone of contention—Evan always coming to her defense, Devlin constantly berating her. Tonight, she resolved, wasn’t going to become yet another battleground.

“It’s all right, Evan,” she murmured, reaching behind her to take his hand. “Devlin obviously came over because he had something to say. Didn’t you, Devlin?”

“Yes, I do.” The big foreman hesitated. “It was something I needed to talk to you about, Hannah. In private.”

Evan made a sound of disgust.

Immediately, Hannah gave his hand a warning squeeze. “Well, I’m here, so talk. You can’t say anything to me that Evan hasn’t heard before.”

“On the contrary,” Devlin drawled, a twinge of wry humor softening his voice, “I’d be willing to bet he hasn’t heard this. I’d still, though, rather say it to you in private.” He thrust the pipe mouthpiece between his lips and gave a few deep puffs.

Exasperation filled her. She wasn’t in any mood to play games tonight. “Then I guess it’ll have to wait. I came out here to be with Evan, not to run off to talk with you.” She turned to Evan, intent on resuming their walk.

“You’re not about to make this easy on me, are you?”

Ever so slowly, Hannah turned back to Devlin. Whatever was the matter with the man? she wondered. She opened her mouth to deliver some sassy retort, then something made her think better of it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Devlin. Truly I don’t.”

He took another long drag on his pipe, then exhaled. A wisp of scented smoke curled languidly up into the air. “No, I don’t suppose you do,” he finally said. Devlin pulled the pipe from his mouth, inhaled a ragged breath, then continued. “I know you don’t particularly like or trust me. I want to apologize for what I did to cause that. I also want to ask you to come back to take care of my house and children.”

In shocked disbelief, Hannah stood there, gaping at him. The night grew suddenly quiet. She could hear the blood pounding through her head, whooshing through her ears. For a frightening moment, everything spun before her.

Then Evan gave a mocking laugh, and the world righted. “What makes you think Hannah gives a hoot for your apology, or wants to commit to your slave labor again? She’s not some servant, you know, to be used then cast off until you deign to need her once more.”

“You arrogant young pup!” Fists clenched, Devlin moved toward him. “This is none of your affair. Why don’t you—”

“It’s my affair if I choose to make it so!” Evan snarled, stepping out in front of Hannah. “I care for Hannah, which is more than I could ever say about you!”

“Stop it. That’s enough.” She grabbed Evan by the arm and pulled him back beside her. “I won’t have you two fighting over me, especially when this is the first apology Devlin’s ever offered me.”

“And why should you accept it?” her young escort hissed. “You’re not some mongrel pup who needs to lick the hand of the man who’s just beaten you. Besides, the only reason Devlin’s swallowing his pride and apologizing is because he’s unhappy with the Widow Ashley and wants you to take her place.”

Hannah turned and looked at Devlin. “Is that true? That your feelings about me haven’t changed, that if you weren’t desperate, you’d never have come to me tonight?”

Instead of an instant protest or explanation, he stared silently down at her. The tension built as Hannah waited, stretching her nerves so tautly she thought she might scream. And then, at long last, Devlin finally answered.

“Some things don’t change overnight, Hannah,” he said, his voice gone low and raw. “But I know my children need you, and it’s past time I be a real father to them again. If that requires me to swallow my pride and grovel, well, then so be it.”

In the dim light she couldn’t quite make out Devlin’s expression, but she could see his eyes, burning with anguish and shame. As she gazed up at the big foreman, the wall she had built about her heart cracked a bit. Yet still Hannah hesitated. Could she finally trust Devlin? Did she dare?

“I’ll have to think on your offer,” she whispered. Then, taking Evan by the arm, she set out back toward the main house.

Later that evening, after the kitchen was put back in order and Abby bathed and helped to bed, Hannah sat in the rocker by her bedroom window and looked out toward Devlin’s house. Even from this distance, she could see his white shirt and knew he was still sitting on his front porch. From the occasional, faint red flare of light she saw as he inhaled, she knew he was also still smoking his pipe.

She wondered what he was thinking. Had he already regretted making such a humiliating plea to her? Was he angry with her for not immediately acquiescing to his request?

One thing Hannah did know. Devlin had been correct in his assumption. After what he had put her through, she feared trusting him. That fear, if nothing else, would make things difficult between them for a long while to come.

Behind her, Jackson stirred, mumbled something in his sleep, then turned over and nodded off once more. Hannah smiled. Her son was a year old now, and had just the day before finally taken his first unaided steps. He wasn’t a baby anymore.

He would need her, though, for a long while to come. Need her for love, guidance, and stability in his life. Was that, she wondered, why Devlin wanted her back in his own children’s lives? If so, how would they work out their own difficulties with each other? And could he ever really come to forgive her? Indeed, could she ever truly forgive him?

It seemed too much to hope for. Yet how could she agree to his request, reenter his house, and be near him again any other way? He was such a complex, mercurial, tormented man.

Yet the children … Devlin Jr., Mary, and baby Bonnie … How could she turn her back on them—no matter how she felt about their father? Ella had begged her to care for them, to love them. But then she had also begged Hannah to forgive Devlin, and he still fought her every step of the way.

Every step of the way, that is, until this evening. Was it possible God’s hand was in this? That she and Devlin were at last at a crossroads, and the next decision she made would be crucial for them both? To place such trust in a God she still felt so frequently unsure of was almost as terrifying as trusting Devlin.

Hannah halted the rocker and stood. Too many questions bombarded her, only confusing her more. There was but one way to really know, and that was to talk further with Devlin. He was still awake, still sitting outside on the porch. Hannah knew she wouldn’t get much sleep until she had this settled between them.

She paused to cover Jackson with the blanket he had thrown off in his tossing and turning. Then she flung her shawl over her shoulders and left the bunkhouse. Her heart hammering in her chest, Hannah strode out across the thirty or so yards separating her little dwelling from Devlin’s ranch house. At her approach, he rose and walked to the top of the porch steps.

“Had time to think about my offer, have you?”

She looked up at him. “Yes. Yes, I have.”

When he made no move to step aside, Hannah glared up at him. “Well, are you going to invite me to have a seat, or must I stand here with you towering over me?”

A rich chuckle rose from deep within Devlin’s chest. “I’m surprised you’d want to be seen keeping company with me, especially at this late hour. But, please,”—he stepped to one side and, with a gallant bow and sweep of his arm, motioned toward the porch swing—“come, sit with me.”

With a caustic glance in his direction, Hannah swept past him and headed for the swing. Devlin joined her there, the sudden addition of his weight bringing the wooden bench to a jarring halt. Immediately, she scooted over as far as she could. Though there wasn’t any other place for him to sit, she was suddenly uncomfortable with him so near.

“Well, what have you decided?” he asked finally when she said nothing. As he spoke, Devlin pushed off with one foot, setting the swing once more into motion. Back and forth it swayed, its movement soothing and hypnotic.

It was still a beautiful night, though a bit cooler now. Everyone was abed, save for a few hands moving about far down the hill in the large bunkhouse near the two barns. In an upstairs bedroom of the main house, a single oil lamp glowed. Hannah could see a man moving about beyond the lace curtains.