Chapter Twelve

David caught her as she fell, and Sam was beside them in an instant.

“What happened?”

“I think she fainted,” David said, struggling with her weight.

Sam took her limp body from him, lifting her into his arms. “No wonder. The stink in here would choke a buzzard.”

He was already out of the barn and heading for the house with his bloody burden.

“She was fine, really,” David insisted, running along beside him. “I was the one starting to get sick, and then all of a sudden she just keeled over.”

Sam looked down at Catherine’s white face, and his heart constricted. If anything happened to her... “Inez!” he shouted as they approached the house. “Inez!”

She came scurrying out of a back hallway just as they entered the parlor.

“Madre de Dios!” she exclaimed, crossing herself. “Is she dead?”

Sam glanced down at Catherine again and realized how all the blood must look to poor Inez. “No, this isn’t her blood. She and Davy were cutting up a cow, and she fainted.”

“Cutting up a cow?” Inez echoed in complete bewilderment.

“I’ll explain later. I think we’d better get Miss Eaton to bed.”

“Not to bed!” Inez protested, looking askance at the gore. “Take her into the bathroom.” Then she noticed David hovering nearby. “Dios! Outside with you. Go to the pump and get clean!” She shooed him out as Sam made his way down the hall to the bath.

At the door, he waited for Inez to catch up.

“Put her in the tub,” Inez instructed. “I will take care of her there.”

As gently as he could, Sam placed Catherine into the claw-footed tub. She moaned once, softly, and his heart wrenched again. “Cat?” he said, but she did not respond.

Inez shouldered him out of the way and knelt down beside the tub. “Did you say she was cutting up a cow?”

“She was teaching Davy a lesson in anatomy.”

Obviously, Inez had never heard the word anatomy before. She muttered something under her breath and started to unbutton Catherine’s shirt. Sam hurried to the other end of the tub and pulled off one of Catherine’s shoes.

“Mr. Sam, what are you doing?” Inez demanded in outrage.

Sam dropped the shoe as if it had burned him. “I... I’m sorry, I forgot myself for a minute. I’ll leave you alone now,” he added, backing out of the room.

What would Inez think? What had he been thinking to start undressing Cat like that? He looked at her again. She seemed so small and fragile. “Will she be all right?”

“If she only fainted, yes,” Inez said impatiently.

“I... uh... holler if you need anything.” He closed the door very firmly behind him.

By the time he got back to the parlor, David was just coming back inside, shirtless and dripping from a drenching under the pump. “How is she?”

“Still out. Tell me exactly what happened.”

“We were talking, and I said something about not being able to eat dinner today, and she asked me if it was getting hot. Next thing I knew, she was falling.”

“Damn fool woman,” Sam muttered.

“She told me she’s done this lots of times and she never got sick before.”

Sam only grunted. “Better tell Johnny to get that carcass salted down before the maggots take it over.”

“Sure.” David hurried out.

“Damn fool woman,” Sam muttered again.

Catherine heard someone calling her name, but she didn’t want to wake up, not yet. Then she heard something strange. Was it water splashing? Yes, water splashing on her.

She forced her eyelids open but snapped them shut again when she saw all the blood. It couldn’t be! Why was she lying in a pool of blood?

“Senorita Eaton? Can you hear me?”

Catherine lifted one eyelid. “Inez?”

“Si, you are awake?”

“Sort of.” She ventured another glance and saw Inez pouring a pitcherful of water over her naked body, or more accurately, over her scarlet arms and hands, which were lying across her naked body. “What happened?”

“Mr. Sam says you and Davy were cutting up a cow,” Inez explained, not bothering to conceal her contempt for such a lie. “You must have fainted.”

“Oh, no!” she groaned, closing her eyes again as the whole scene came back. Then another thought occurred to her. “How did I get here?” she asked, looking around in alarm, half expecting to find Sam lurking in a corner.

“Mr. Sam carried you in.”

She looked down at her nakedness again. “Like this?”

“No, I took your clothes off... after he left.” Inez gave her a knowing smile. “Would you like me to run some water for a bath now? I have cleaned off most of the blood, and if you can get out, I will scrub out the tub.”

“Of course,” Catherine said, attempting to rise.

She found the effort more difficult than she had expected, however, and she needed Inez’s assistance to get to a nearby chair. Inez wrapped her in a towel and left her there to begin cleaning the tub.

“I can’t imagine what happened,” Catherine murmured. “I’ve done dozens of dissections and I’ve never fainted.”

Inez paused in her scrubbing and shot Catherine another knowing look. “When a woman carries a child, she will often faint.”

Still woozy, Catherine could only stare stupidly. What on earth did she mean? Catherine wasn’t carrying a child.

Or was she?

“Inez, what did you mean?” she asked.

This time Inez didn’t even look up. “I think you must be careful now that you carry Mr. Sam’s baby, or you will faint all the time.”

As one in a daze, Catherine watched Inez finish cleaning the tub, run her a bath, and fetch her clean clothes. It couldn’t be true, she told herself over and over. Surely she would have known. Surely she would have sensed the changes in her body.

But of course she had sensed the changes. She had simply ignored them, unable or unwilling to accept what they meant. How long since she had last menstruated? Not since her first night with Sam, certainly. Had she felt queasy in the mornings? Yes, and she had blamed it on nerves and worry over Sam.

When Inez left to get her clean clothes, Catherine opened the towel and looked at her body with new eyes. Still she saw no change, nothing to indicate the momentous secret Inez had guessed. How could she have known?

By the time Inez returned, the tub was full. Inez shut off the water and came to help Catherine into it. Catherine accepted her ministrations without protest, and when she was settled comfortably in the warm water, she ventured the question. “Inez, what makes you think?...”

Inez smiled conspiratorially. “A woman’s body changes, here and here.” She pointed, and Catherine blushed. “My mother is a midwife, so I know these things. When Mr. Sam started to help me undress you, I think to myself, ‘This is something a husband would do, something my Patrick would do for me, not something a man would do for a woman he hardly knows.’ It was not hard to guess who your man is.”

“You didn’t tell him, did you?” Catherine asked in alarm.

She shrugged. “I thought he might know already, and Mr. Sam does not like others to know his secrets.”

Catherine had noticed this character trait, but she made no comment.

“You will have to tell him,” Inez said. “Tongues will wag when the baby comes early, so you must be married as soon as possible.”

“Yes, you’re right,” she agreed hastily. “But in the meantime, promise me you won’t say anything to him.”

Inez looked offended. “It is not my place.”

“Thank you,” Catherine mumbled, unable to bear Inez’s scrutiny another moment. “You don’t have to stay with me anymore. I’m feeling much better.”

“I will stay nearby in case you cannot get out by yourself. You will call me if you need help?”

“Yes, I will.”

Seemingly satisfied, Inez left Catherine alone with her crisis. Oh, dear heaven, a baby, Sam’s baby! What on earth should she do?

She should tell him, of course. He had a right to know.

Or did he? She remembered what she had seen in his eyes the previous night when he had refused to let David go to Philadelphia. If he were so obsessive with his brother, how would he feel about his own child? What if her son inherited her father’s genius? What if he were even more talented than David? Could she bear to watch Sam crush his hopes and dreams, too?

But she loved Sam. Could she bear to leave him and to take his child?

Before she even realized it she was sobbing, overwhelmed by the burden of responsibility she bore to the child she carried. How could she even hope to know what was right?

Quickly, before Inez heard her and came to investigate, Catherine smothered her sobs and dashed water on her face. Then she scrubbed herself mercilessly, as if she could wash away the problems facing her. When she was finished the water was faintly pink, but all traces of blood were gone from her hands and arms.

Feeling somewhat numb, Catherine maneuvered herself out of the tub and toweled off. She could have used Inez’s help, but she couldn’t face anyone just yet. She struggled into the clothes Inez had laid out for her and then peered out of the bathroom. Seeing no one, she stole down the hall to her room. Someone had very thoughtfully closed the shutters against the noonday sun, and Catherine stretched out on the bed, feeling unutterably weary.

She must have slept because she woke with a start and saw a pair of jean-clad legs in front of her. She looked up to find Sam Connors.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, his dark eyes filled with adoration. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right. How do you feel?” He reached out and touched her cheek so tenderly that her eyes filled with tears.

“I’m fine,” she said, glad to hear how firm her voice was. “There’s no need to be concerned.”

“No need!” he replied in exasperation. “Look at you! You pass out cold on the barn floor, and then you come in here and sleep for two hours. What in the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” she insisted in alarm, struggling to a sitting position. Had he guessed already? Had Inez told him?

“Nothing’s wrong?” he asked in mock amazement. “I call being out of your mind having something seriously wrong, and you, lady, are totally crazy! Cutting up dead animals in the heat and the stench with the flies buzzing around you like—”

“Sam, don’t!” she cried, feeling faint again.

“Oh, God, what am I doing?” he whispered, instantly contrite. “I’m sorry, Cat, I didn’t mean... You scared me to death and now I’m acting crazy.” He ran a hand through his raven hair, and she could see from how mussed it was that this was not the first time he had done so.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she managed around the tightness in her throat. He really did look frightened and incredibly dear, and she was afraid she might cry again.

He glanced uneasily at the door that he had closed, presumably to keep this totally improper visit a secret. “I’d like to—” He stopped and drew a ragged breath.

“What would you like to do?” she asked, wishing he weren’t so far away, wishing he were here on the bed beside her.

“I’d like to hold you. Just hold you, Cat, just for a minute... ”

“Oh, Sam,” she cried, reaching for him.

He came to her with a groan that sounded almost like agony, and his arms closed around her.

“Tighter,” she urged when he tried to be gentle.

She buried her face in the curve of his neck and inhaled the musky made scent of him. She loved him so much she could hardly bear the thought of it, and once again she had to fight the tears.

He gave a shuddering sigh and pressed his lips to her temple. “Are you sure you’re all right? The nearest doctor is in Dallas, but Inez’s mother is a midwife and she takes care of most of the sickness...”

“No, I’m fine,” she hastily assured him, knowing she couldn’t face a midwife right now. “I didn’t sleep very well last night and it was hot in the barn and... well, the combination of everything was just too much.”

He pulled away so he could see her face. “Why didn’t you sleep well?”

“I was worried about the fight we had last night.”

“We didn’t have a fight. Davy and me had a fight.”

“I was there, too, and as you pointed out, I’m the one who caused the problems in the first place.”

“We’ll get things settled, Cat. It’s not your lookout.”

“I hope you’re not going to tell me to mind my own business again,” she said acerbically.

He gave her a grudging smile. “I guess you really are feeling better if you’re ready to pick a fight with me.”

“I’m not picking a fight,” she began, but caught herself when she realized she most certainly was. She returned his smile sheepishly.

“I reckon I know a way to take your mind off all this, and if you weren’t feeling so poorly, I’d show it to you.”

The wicked glint in his eyes heated her blood, and she wanted to tell him she wasn’t feeling that poorly, but common sense intervened. Making love would only complicate an already hopelessly muddled situation. “Not to mention that Inez might come in any minute to check on me,” Catherine reminded him. “She’s already scandalized because you tried to undress me.”

Sam winced at the memory. “I only took off your shoe. You looked so helpless, and I wanted to do something...” His voice trailed off, and his eyes told her how much he cared for her, perhaps even loved her. Her heart ached as she fought the urge to confess her own feelings. It was still too soon, and she was still too unsure of so many things, especially now that she knew about the baby.

His hands moved over her back, gentle and possessive. “Are you sure you don’t want me to send for Inez’s mother?” he asked.

Catherine shook her head. “I’m fine, really, except I’m starving!” she suddenly realized.

“I’m not surprised. You slept right through dinner. I’ll have Inez bring you a tray.”

“Oh, no! I’m not an invalid. I can go to the kitchen.”

“If you’re sure...”

“I’m sure.”

Sam studied her expression for a moment before surrendering to her will. Reluctantly, he released her and rose from the bed. He looked as bereft as she felt.

“I suppose I could use a strong arm to lean on, though,” she allowed.

He seemed relieved. “You can have either one of mine.”

“Just give me a minute to pin up my hair,” she said, realizing it was still loose around her shoulders.

“I’ll wait outside.”

When Catherine looked into the dressing table mirror, she almost cried out in dismay. No wonder Sam was so worried about her. She looked absolutely terrible, pale and drawn, with her hair a wild tangle and her eyes haunted by secrets she dared not reveal. She looked only slightly better when her hair was pinned up again. Pinching some color into her cheeks, she practiced a few carefree smiles with questionable success. Well, she decided, it was probably better if Sam did think she was ill. At least he wouldn’t be wondering what else could be wrong with her.

He was waiting in the hall for her, leaning against the wall. He snapped to attention the instant she appeared. “Are you sure you want to try this?”

“Yes. I just realized poor David must be worried sick, too. I suppose I fainted right in front of him.”

“Right into his arms, just like in a book,” Sam informed her with a grin as he tucked her arm through his. “But I was the one who carried you into the house. Davy’s knees were knocking too hard to make the trip. ”

“Oh, dear,” she murmured.

They found Inez in the kitchen. “Look who I found wandering around loose,” Sam said, presenting Catherine. “She says she’s hungry, though I wouldn’t offer her a steak just yet.”

Inez muttered all sorts of disapproving imprecations as she seated Catherine at the kitchen table. “I have made some soup. You will feel better when you have eaten,” Inez assured her.

Sam nonchalantly went to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee, but Catherine soon realized he was using it as an excuse to remain there with her while she ate. Feeling absurdly cherished, she allowed Inez to coax her into finishing the entire bowl of soup and several slices of bread.

“Her color’s coming back, don’t you think?” he asked Inez.

Inez nodded, and Catherine saw the speculation in the housekeeper’s eyes as she wondered whether Catherine had told him about the baby yet.

“We should find David and put his mind at ease,” Catherine said briskly to distract them both.

Sam walked her back to the parlor, where he left her ensconced on the sofa while he went in search of his brother. In a few minutes she heard the sound of running, and David came charging out of the hallway that led to his room. “Miss Eaton, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him as he skidded to a halt in front of her. “And I’m afraid I owe you an apology.”

“What for?”

“For fainting. I’ve never done that before, and I wanted you to know how sorry I am I frightened you.”

“You did, for sure,” David said, looking at her more closely. “Are you really feeling better?”

“She says she is,” Sam said, entering the room behind him at a more sedate pace. “But you know how stubborn she is. I don’t expect she’d tell us if she was dying.”

“I am most certainly not dying,” she informed them both. “And I’m feeling well enough to give you the art lesson I promised.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to. In fact, I insist.”

“Well, all right,” David agreed, unable to disguise his pleasure. “What would you like to do?”

For all her bravado, Catherine knew she shouldn’t risk going out into the sun again. “Why don’t we find something inside to sketch and then you can do an oil of it later.”

“Like what?” he asked, scanning the room thoughtfully for a subject.

Catherine looked, too, and her wandering gaze snagged Sam’s. To her surprise, she saw disappointment. “I reckon I’ll get out of your way, then,” he said, and started for the door.

“Sam, wait!” she called, realizing he saw her offer as a desire to exclude him from her presence. “David, wouldn’t you like to do a portrait of Sam?”

Both brothers were equally surprised at the question. David’s surprise quickly turned to delight, however, while Sam remained dubious.

“I’ve been wanting to, but I can’t never get him to hold still long enough,” David said.

“He’s much too polite to refuse a guest, though,” Catherine told David with a wink. “Sam, would you sit for us please?” she asked sweetly.

He tried to look put-upon but without much success. “I’ve got work to do,” he offered perfunctorily.

“Please?” she repeated with a smile.

“You can’t turn down a guest,” David said, already grinning triumphantly. “Where should we have him sit, Miss Eaton?”

Sam never did agree, but a few minutes later he was posed beside the fireplace, looking uncomfortable but pleased at having been included in their afternoon’s activities.

Catherine took up her sketchbook, too, glad for the opportunity to have Sam as a model. She didn’t allow herself to think about why she wanted a picture of him or why she might need one.

“I’m not real good at painting people yet, Sam, so this might not turn out looking much like you,” David remarked when they had been sketching for a while.

“I just don’t want to hear any jokes about skinning me to learn how to draw better,” Sam replied.

“I wouldn’t do it in front of Miss Eaton, anyways,” David said with a grin.

“And I don’t want to hear any more jokes about my fainting,” Catherine informed them both.

Sam’s dark gaze softened and grew speculative—or at least Catherine imagined it did. Perhaps her secret made her see things that weren’t there. He couldn’t possibly know she was pregnant.

But he could guess, an inner voice told her. Surely he knew all about the birds and the bees and where babies come from. She could also imagine how thrilled he’d be at the prospect of a child. He wouldn’t care about the gossip, nor would her own hesitancy over their suitability for each other stop him from sweeping her to the altar. How well she understood Sam Connors’s indomitable will and her inability to resist it. If she decided she shouldn’t marry Sam, her only choice would be not to tell him about the baby at all.

How could she be so cruel to him?

“If Sam doesn’t like to sit for you, you should find yourself another model,” she said to distract herself from her thoughts. “That boy who helped us this afternoon would be a good subject.”

“Johnny?” David said. “Yeah, I guess he would.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Now you’re going to take my men away from their work so you can draw their pictures?”

“I’ll do it when they aren’t working,” David assured him with a grin.

Sam and David kept up a steady banter all afternoon and over supper, so Catherine had no further opportunity to worry. Afterwards, Sam decreed Catherine needed entertainment, not work, and invited Inez and her husband to join them for cards. No one would have ever known from Inez’s attitude that she shared Catherine’s secret, and the evening passed cheerfully.

It wasn’t very late when Inez said, at the end of a hand, “Miss Eaton should go to bed now.”

“Not yet,” Catherine protested.

“You fainted today,” Inez said, and her eyes gave a silent reminder of the child she carried.

“I suppose you’re right,” she admitted grudgingly. “Although I hate to spoil everyone’s fun.”

“Oh, I’m kinda tired myself,” David said gallantly.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, straight-faced. “Cutting up livestock’ll wear a fellow out.”

David made a face and Catherine excused herself, wishing everyone a good night. Did Sam’s eyes linger on her as she left the room? Probably she was imagining things again.

In her room she prepared for bed, then listened as the house slowly grew silent. By now everyone would have retired, she thought as she carefully brushed her hair one hundred strokes.

In another wing of the house Sam paced in his own bedroom. More than once he started for the door and caught himself. Was he some kind of animal? The woman wasn’t well, she’d actually fainted today, but all he could think about was holding her in his arms again and tasting her sweet lips.

And putting his seed in her, he admitted. Oh, he wanted to make love to her until she cried out in joy and clung to him as if she’d never let him go, but even more than that, he wanted to get her with child.

The whole time he had waited for her to wake up this afternoon he had considered the possibility she might already be pregnant. She’d said she had never fainted during dissections back in Philadelphia, so maybe her weakness came from another cause. He knew how sickly expectant women could be. Adora had swooned practically every day when she was carrying Davy.

If Cat were pregnant, she would have no choice but to marry him. The hope burned white hot within him. He should go to her and give her the opportunity to tell him.

And if she weren’t already with child, he should go to her in hopes of giving her one.

The thought of Cat belonging to him was a stronger lure than passion had ever been. Desire boiled up in him, hot and strong and compelling. True, she had been ill, but he would give her a chance to say no. And if she said yes...

Catherine laid the brush down on the dressing table and began to braid her hair for sleep. Her hands slowed as she reached the end of the braid, and she realized she didn’t want to finish because she didn’t want to go to bed just yet. Feeling rested from her nap, she knew she would only lie awake, tortured by thoughts of Sam and worries for the future.

For one silly moment, she entertained the fantasy of slipping out of her room and through the darkened house to where Sam slept and creeping into his bed and...

But she could never be so bold, not even if she were going for the sole purpose of telling him about their child, which she had absolutely no intention of doing.

Absently, she picked up the ribbon to bind her braid when someone knocked on her door. Suddenly, every one of her nerves came to life with a burning anticipation. “Who’s there?”

The door opened and Sam came in. He shut the door carefully, silently behind him but made no move to come farther into the room. Her heart hammered so loudly that she could hardly hear him when he said, “If you want me to leave, just say so.”

Her breath caught somewhere in her chest, so she could only shake her head. The ribbon slipped from her fingers, and she reached out her hand to him.

He was beside her in an instant, lifting her to her feet and lowering his face to hers for the kisses she had craved, one after another, quick and sweet and urgent. He clutched her hips, holding her to him, while her own hands grasped his head so the kisses wouldn’t stop.

“Oh, Cat,” he murmured on a rasping breath. “It’s been so long.”

“Yes,” she replied, wondering how she could ever bear to leave him. Never to hold him or kiss him again? What a fool she was to even consider it. No matter how they fought, they belonged together. He worshiped her, she knew. He would never hurt her or their child.

Sam loosened the tie of her robe while she struggled with his shirt buttons. They inched their way toward the bed, leaving a trail of clothing in their wake.

“Where are your shoes?” she wondered as he stepped out of his pants.

“I didn’t want Davy to hear me,” he explained, lifting her nightdress over her head. “He’d probably shoot me if he saw me going into your room.” He bore her backward onto the bed.

“You should have told him how things are.”

“How are things?” he asked.

“That—that we’re lovers,” she replied.

“You think I should’ve told him we’re levers?” He cupped her breasts with both hands, using his thumbs to abrade the tips into tight, aching buds.

“N... no...” she said breathlessly. “I guess... not...”

“Cat, stop talking.” He lowered his mouth to hers, and she had no choice but to obey.

His hands worked their magic, stoking the embers of desire until they glowed and her breath came in ragged gasps.

“Touch me, Cat,” he said, guiding her hand downward to grasp the heated shaft.

When he groaned his pleasure, she glimpsed the power she had over him, twin to the power he exercised over her body. She stroked him tentatively, earning another groan. Emboldened, she nuzzled his chest, finding his flat nipple and teasing it with her tongue.

“My God, you’re a witch,” he murmured hoarsely, withdrawing defensively and removing her hand to a place of safety. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Teasing you?” she replied.

“I’ll show you teasing,” he growled in mock fierceness, and rolled her flat onto her back, pinning her there with his weight.

When he had kissed her senseless, he began to work his way down her body, lavishing attention on her breasts until they throbbed, then moving lower until he reached the nest of golden curls on her belly.

Gently but inexorably, he spread her legs so she was completely exposed. When he lowered his mouth, she cried out in surprise.

“Sam, what are you?...” The rest of her question lodged in her throat, smothered by the sensations building within her. Desire blossomed beneath Sam’s mouth, growing and spreading, tangling through her like a silken vine. It crept over her breasts and belly, and curled between her fingers and toes, and wrapped itself around her soul.

When she was completely in thrall, Sam claimed her, sliding into her welcoming depths with a sigh.

“Is the... teasing over?” she managed to ask before he claimed her lips again, and she saw at once he intended to torture her further as he moved in her with excruciating slowness.

But she knew her power now and would have none of his domination. When his mouth left hers, she nipped his throat and scraped her nails along his lean flanks. Reaction shuddered through him, but she gave him no time to recover. Wrapping her legs around him, she opened her lips against his and plunged her tongue into his mouth.

His restraint crumbled, and suddenly his hips thrust against hers with frantic urgency. Mouths devoured, hands clutched, and breaths mingled until neither could have said where one body left off and the other began. United, they strove for the goal, churning, panting, groping, lunging, on and on until they spiraled out of control, collapsing into one another in the feverish convulsions of ecstasy.

A long time later Catherine roused herself, conscious of the burden of Sam’s weight still crushing her into the bed. She pushed ineffectually on his shoulder. He murmured a complaint and then rolled away, carrying her with him so she lay on top of him.

Still too weary to speak, they lay together for a time. Sam raked his fingers through her hair, undoing the last of her braid and spreading the silken strands out into a golden curtain across her back.

At last Catherine found her voice. “I had no idea teasing could be so—so interesting.”

“Interesting?” Sam said, lifting one eyelid and glaring at her in disapproval.

“Didn’t you think it was interesting?” she inquired innocently.

“Oh, yes,” he replied, reaching down to position her hips so she could tell just how interested he still was.

“Oh, my,” she said with an impish grin, while his fingers traced erotic trails up the back of her thighs and over her bare bottom.

Nearly intoxicated with happiness, Catherine pressed kiss after kiss onto his beloved face, across the jaw that still bore the dark traces of his beard in spite of a recent shave, on the strong, straight nose and the broad forehead. Then she closed his dark eyes with more kisses as she tunneled her fingers into his thick black hair.

“Mmmm,” he said contentedly. “Imagine what it would be like if you lived here all the time. Every night, in this bed...”

“You sneaking down the hall in your sock feet?” she taunted.

His eyes flew open, and she saw he wasn’t really teasing. “If you were my wife, I wouldn’t have to sneak in to see you.”

For one second her heart stopped as she recalled all her old fears, but only for a second. Sam wanted to marry her. Given the slightest encouragement, he would ask her right now, and when he did, she would say yes.

And then she would have to deal with her doubts. Why spoil the moment? Later, there would be time for confessions and plans and explanations. Later, but not now.

She made a pouting face. “How boring that will be. You’ll come in here every night and pull off your boots and hang up your clothes and put on a nightshirt—”

“a nightshirt!”

“—and forget to shave and you probably snore and—”

“I do not snore!”

“How do you know?”

“I—I just do, that’s all,” he insisted. “And I never wear a nightshirt.”

She feigned shock. “Not even in the winter?”

“Not if I have somebody to keep me warm.”

“And who’s been keeping you warm up until now?” she wanted to know.

“Nobody, which is why I’m looking forward to having a little blond schoolteacher to snuggle with.”

His hands were doing delicious things to her body, and she had to admit she was looking forward to cozying up with Sam this winter, too.

“What will you tell David?” she asked, unwilling to let him get too comfortable with his daydreams.

He sighed dramatically. “Maybe I’ll have to ship him off to Philadelphia after all, just so we can be alone.”

She laughed with delight. “Oh, Sam, I knew you’d let him go!”

His gaiety vanished. “I was only joking. I’m not going to let him go. Davy belongs here.”

“I—I thought—”

“Well, you thought wrong.”

“Sam, can’t you see how much this means to him? Don’t you want him to be happy?”

“Of course, I want him to be happy. I know what happens when you take someone out of his rightful place. His mother died, for God’s sake.”

“That’s hardly the same thing. David won’t die from going to Philadelphia, and you have no right to make this decision for him. You aren’t his father!”

Sam’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and for an instant she thought she had gone too far. For a few seconds he fought for control of his temper and won. His face smoothed out again, all traces of irritation gone from his expression. “And you aren’t his mother, Cat. You aren’t even a blood relative,” he pointed out reasonably. “You have no rights at all.”

“I—I love him as much as you do,” she tried.

“I doubt it,” Sam said, but he smiled, telling her he wasn’t angry any longer. He sighed again, wearily this time. “Remember what I said this afternoon about there being only one way to shut you up?”

She nodded smugly. “Too bad you’ve already used it.”

In the next second she was on her back beneath him. “I used it once, and I can use it again.”

“Again?” she echoed in amazement, feeling the evidence of his claim pressing against her thigh.

“And again and again, as often as I have to,” he bragged, touching her the way he knew she liked to be touched. “If this is the only way we can keep from arguing, we should have a very interesting life together.”

Vaguely, Catherine realized she had tacitly agreed to become Sam’s wife, but the knowledge was lost in the swirl of passion that followed. Once again she and Sam rode the crest, higher and higher, until they plunged together into the vortex of release.

When it was over she lay limp and replete, draped across Sam’s chest. “Do you still want to argue?” he asked softly.

“About what?” she inquired just before sleep claimed her. She thought she heard him chuckle, but perhaps it was only a dream.

She awoke to someone pounding on her door. Sunlight flooded the room.

“Miss Eaton? Are you awake? We’ve got church this morning.”

David! she thought in panic, but to her relief the bed beside her was empty. Sam had left sometime during the night.

“Yes, I’m awake. I’ll be ready in a minute,” she called, falling back against the pillows.

“A minute?” he taunted cheerfully. “Should I start timing you?”

“Don’t you dare!”

After her shock, she found her body reluctant to bestir itself again, so she needed even more time than usual to get washed and dressed. When she was at last ready, she made her way out to the parlor, where she found her two hosts awaiting her.

Both David and Sam rose as she entered the room. David beamed a greeting. Sam was more circumspect, although no less happy to see her. His smile warmed her to her toes, and she realized she no longer felt any reluctance to become his wife. Things would never be placid between them, but the joys would more than equal the trials if last night was any indication of what Sam had in store for her.

David offered his arm to escort her into breakfast.

She cast Sam an apologetic look to which he responded with a wink.

Catherine found she was ravenous and ate two helpings of flapjacks.

“Looks like you worked up an appetite last night,” Sam remarked guilelessly.

“How could she work up an appetite sleeping?” David scoffed, frowning when he saw Catherine’s blush.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Sam replied, not looking up from his plate.

Catherine made a great effort not to choke on her pancake.

The ride into town was pure torture as she sat wedged in the buggy between David and Sam. The two of them exerted themselves to keep her entertained, but Catherine felt unaccountably irritable, perhaps because Sam seemed unaffected by their proximity while she could hardly breathe. The mere brush of his elbow sent her heart skittering in her chest.

She recalled her conversation with Sam last night about how boring marriage would become. At the moment boredom seemed quite attractive. She would have to set a wedding date soon if she hoped to maintain her dignity.

When they arrived at church, the women closed ranks around her, pretending to scold her for being brazen enough to spend the weekend at Sam’s ranch but really curious to learn how their relationship had progressed. Catherine hinted broadly about future plans but revealed nothing.

The Reverend Fletcher had just rung the bell when a cowboy came racing into town. He reined up so quickly that his horse reared, but everyone heard his shouted message. “Amos Pettigrew was killed last night!”

The men surged forward to hear the rest of the message while the women gasped their horror.

“Killed? How?” Sam demanded.

“Shot down in the road. One of the men found him this morning. We went looking when we realized he hadn’t come home last night.”

“Any idea who did it?” Mathias Shallcross asked.

“The tracks showed two riders. Looks like they met, maybe even had a few words. Mr. Pettigrew’s gun was still in his holster, so he couldn’t of been expecting trouble.”

“The Taggerts,” Sam said.

“But why would he have let them ride up to him like that?” someone asked.

“Maybe it was dark,” Mathias suggested.

“The Taggerts were working for Amos,” Sam explained reluctantly. “He hired them after Gus fired them. He only wanted them to cut my fence so I’d get mad enough to fight, but they didn’t want to quit. They told him he’d have to keep on paying them or else they’d cut his fences... or maybe even kill him.”

“How do you know all this?” Gus Nylan asked. “Amos told me. He begged me not to tell anybody, but I don’t guess it matters now.”

Bones Blalock stepped out of the crowd. “I reckon there’ll be a trail to follow.”

“I reckon so,” Sam agreed. “We’ll need some men to ride with us.”

Every man present wanted to go, so Bones selected half-a-dozen while Sam sought out Catherine.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I am, too,” she said, fighting the fear that was turning her breakfast into a sickening lump. She laid a hand on his arm. “Please be careful.”

He gave her his cocky grin. “Nothing’s going to happen to me now.” He glanced around and found his brother. “Davy, see that Miss Eaton gets home, will you?”

“They can both come home with me,” Twila declared. “I’ve got a roast on and nobody to eat it, with Mathias running off chasing killers. We can wait together.”

The next week dragged by as Sam spent most of his time once again scouring the hills in search of the Taggerts. David kept her informed of their progress—or lack of it.

“Sometimes Sam swears he can almost smell the Taggerts, he’s that close, but they’re like weasels. They go to ground and don’t leave a trace.”

“How can they disappear so completely?”

“It’s rough country out there, with lots of hidey-holes. They must be smarter than we thought, too, or at least they know how to cover their trail so even Sam can’t find it.”

“But don’t they leave tracks?”

“On the ground, yes, but not on rocks and in water. They use every trick in the book to hide their trail. Sam can even follow somebody across rock, usually, because they leave other signs, like broken twigs or scuff marks or even animal droppings, but the Taggerts don’t leave nothing behind. He thinks they cover their horses’ hooves with something.”

Catherine laid awake far into each night, picturing Sam riding into an ambush the way Amos Pettigrew had. Her blood ran cold when she thought of losing him before she even had a chance to tell him how much she loved him.

Why had she hesitated when she had the chance? Why hadn’t she agreed to marry him and told him about the baby? Why had she let her foolish doubts rob them of the joy they could have shared?

When her thoughts got too bleak, she had to remind herself Sam was still alive and well and probably would remain so. They had many years ahead during which to share every scrap of joy due them. In her more reasonable moments, she tried to figure out how she could have grown so despondent and decided it must be one of the inexplicable results of her pregnancy. Or perhaps she was simply losing her mind from the tension of waiting.

Thursday morning, David reported that Sam and the Rangers had once again given up the search, and Catherine breathed a sigh of relief. Surely, Sam would come to her tonight and they could finally settle things between them.

Too excited to concentrate on David’s lesson, she sent him home early, pleading that she had to make plans for the commencement exercises that would be held the next week. At least she and Sam wouldn’t have to wait any length of time for school to be out before getting married. As Inez had said, they were already late and couldn’t afford any protracted delays.

When David arrived home, the men hadn’t come back from their day’s work yet. He unsaddled his pony and turned it loose in the corral. He was heading for the house when he heard the sound of wood being chopped. Looking for a little conversation, he made his way around the back of the house, where he found Johnny Fitzpatrick working the ax with little enthusiasm.

As the newest man on the Spur, Johnny often got stuck with the less desirable jobs. No cowboy liked doing anything that couldn’t be done from the back of a horse.

“Hey, how’s it going?” David called, knowing Johnny would be happy for any distraction.

“Just fine,” Johnny replied sarcastically. The heat and labor had plastered his shirt to his body, and he paused to wipe his dripping forehead on his sleeve.

David noticed with an artist’s eye how picturesque the setting was—a young man with an ax, the stacks of wood and piles of chips and sawdust. Then he recalled what Catherine had said about finding himself a model. Of course, serving as a model would hardly seem attractive to a cowboy.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to make a few extra dollars,” David began, thinking he would offer a little incentive.

Johnny frowned, lowering the ax. “Doing what?” he asked suspiciously.

“Nothing much, just sitting around mostly. See, I’m learning to paint people, and I need someone to practice on and—”

“You want to draw my picture?” he asked, suddenly furious. He dropped the ax and clenched his fists. “Like you did Jessie’s?”

“Well, yeah,” David said, bewildered by his anger. “You just have to sit there and—”

“You son of a bitch!”

Before David could react, Johnny swung. The blow glanced off the side of his face. “Hey, wait a minute...”

Johnny swung again, and the next thing David knew they were rolling on the ground. At first he only tried to ward off the blows, but soon his own anger was roused at the unprovoked attack and he began to hit back.

“I know what you want!” Johnny panted. “Jessie told me all about you!”

The words made no sense. In the distance, David heard Inez shouting. He landed a blow, and Johnny grunted.

“Goddamnit, what’s wrong with you?” David shouted, grappling.

“What the hell’s going on?” Sam’s voice demanded, and strong arms pulled the two boys apart.

David fell back gratefully but Johnny resisted, struggling until Sam was forced to wrap his arms around him and subdue him.

“Now, what is this all about?” Sam asked, as angry as Johnny had been.

“I don’t know,” David said. “He just came at me for no reason.”

“No reason!” Johnny’s face was red and his breath came in savage gasps. “He wanted me to—to—”

“To what?” Sam insisted when he hesitated.

Johnny clamped his lips together, refusing to reply, so Sam looked to David for the answer.

“I asked him to pose for me is all. I even offered to pay him.”

“Pay me, you son of a bitch! What do you think I am, some kind of whore?”

“Whore? What in God’s name are you talking about?” Sam asked, releasing him and turning Johnny to face him.

“Yeah, whore! Jessie Nylan told me how he couldn’t do nothing with her because he only likes boys. I know what he wanted. He wanted to get me off alone so he could—”

“Liar!” David screamed, lunging for him.

Sam caught him just in time.

“Why would I make up something like that?” Johnny asked Sam. “She told me all about it.”

“She’s a liar!” David yelled.

“Shut up!” Sam shouted, shaking him until he stopped struggling. “Exactly what did she say?”

Johnny took a deep breath, looking at David, who strained against Sam’s hold again. Satisfied Sam held him securely, he said, “She told me how Davy took her off alone to draw her picture and they started... you know, fooling around and—and he couldn’t do anything because he said he only gets excited with boys.”

David roared with rage and fought ferociously to free himself. “She’s a lying little bitch! She said that because I wouldn’t do it with her. She’s nothing but a cheap little whore!”

Johnny backed up a step, but he stuck his chin out belligerently. “That’s my girl you’re talking about!”

“Then you know she’s a whore!”

Sam released David and grabbed Johnny as he lunged. “Stop it, both of you!” When Johnny was still, Sam released him, too. “Davy, go to your room. I’ll deal with you later.”

“But, Sam—”

“Go, now!”

Reluctantly, resentfully, David started for the house. Sam turned to Johnny. “And you, come with me.” Sam followed David into the house, leading Johnny through the cavernous rooms to his office. Sam closed the door behind them and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You made a big mistake, Johnny. Jessie told you a lie and you believed it.”

“Now wait a minute!”

“I don’t expect you to believe me, but I do expect you to keep this story to yourself. Have you told anybody else?”

“No, sir. The fact is, I didn’t believe it myself at first, but anybody who draws pictures all the time has to be a sissy, and when he asked me to—”

“All right,” Sam snapped. “Just understand this: If you tell this lie to another living soul, I’ll kill you.”

Johnny’s eyes grew large and Sam noticed his fighting flush had drained away, leaving him chalk-white. “I won’t say nothing, but I can’t speak for Jessie.”

“I’ll take care of Jessie,” Sam informed him.

Johnny swallowed loudly.

“I’m going to make it real easy for you,” Sam continued. “I’m going to pay you off and I want you out, clean out of the county. I never want to see your face around here again.”

Sam went to the safe, opened it, and pulled out a drawstring bag. From it he took several gold coins. He rose and handed the coins to Johnny.

“You’ve got one month’s wages coming, but I’m giving you a hundred dollars. That should take you just as far as you want to go. Tell the cook you’re leaving. He’ll give you some grub to carry along. I want you out of here before the rest of the men come back.”

“Y... yes, sir.” He left the door hanging open in his haste to be gone.

Literally trembling with rage, Sam sank down into his desk chair and buried his face in his hands. Johnny’s words kept ringing in his ears: “Anybody who draws pictures all the time has to be a sissy.”

How many others were doubting Davy’s manhood, even without Jessica’s lies to give them ideas? His worst fears had come true.

And it was all Catherine’s fault. Damn her and her high falutin ideas! It wasn’t bad enough she wanted to send him off to Philadelphia, she wanted to take away his masculinity, too.

Sam had made a terrible mistake, letting his attraction for Catherine color his judgment. It was fine for a child to draw pictures but not for a man, and Davy was a man now. Sam had indulged them both for too long. Now he’d have to put a stop to it.

Catherine wouldn’t like it, he knew, but if she was going to be his wife, she would have to learn to obey him, and she would have to start now.

His anger had carried him hallway across the ranch yard before he realized he was on his way to confront her.