Adam (9 page)

Tate turned to plead peace with her brother. “I love Adam,” she said.

“But I'll bet he hasn't said he loves you,” Jesse retorted in a mocking voice.

Tate lowered her eyes and bit her lip.

“I thought not!” he said triumphantly.

Tate's chin lifted and her eyes flashed defiance. “I won't leave him!”

“He's just using you to get back at me,” Jesse said. “The reason I know he can't love you, is because
I
stole the woman
he
wanted right out from under his nose.”

“What?” Confused, Tate looked from her brother to her lover. Adam's eyes were dark with pain and regret.

Tate whirled her head to look at Honey. The pregnant
woman's arms were folded protectively around her unborn child. Her cheeks flamed. She slowly lifted her lids and allowed Tate to see the guilt in her lovely cornflower-blue eyes.

It couldn't be true! Adam wouldn't have done something so heinous as to seduce her to get back at her brother for stealing the woman he loved. But none of the three parties involved was denying it.

Her eyes sought out Adam's face again, looking for some shred of hope that her brother was lying. “Adam?”

Adam's stony features spoke volumes even though he remained mute.

“Oh, God,” Tate breathed. “This can't be happening to me!”

Jesse lashed out with his fist at the man who had caused his sister so much pain. Adam instinctively stepped back and Jesse's fist swung through empty air. Before Jesse could swing the other fist, Honey had thrown herself in front of her husband.

“Please don't fight! Please, Jesse!”

It was a tribute to how much Jesse loved his wife that he held himself in check. He circled his wife's shoulder with one hand and held out the other to Tate.

“Are you coming?” he asked.

“I…I'm staying.” At least until she had a chance to talk with Adam in private and hear his side of this unbelievable story. Then she would decide whether to tell him that she was going to have his child.

Honey saw that her husband was ready to argue further and intervened. “She's a grown woman, Jesse. She has to make her own choices.”

“Dammit, this is the wrong one!” Jesse snarled.

“But it is my choice,” Tate said in a quiet voice.

Honey slipped her arm around her husband's waist. “Let's go home, Jesse.”

“I'm leaving,” Jesse said. “But I'll be back with Faron and Garth.” He yanked open the door, urged his wife out of the house and quickly followed, slamming the door after him.

Tate felt her stomach fall to her feet. She had been surprised to see Adam stand up to her brother—overjoyed, in fact. But if all three of the Whitelaw brothers showed up, there was no way Adam would be able to endure against them. Her brothers would haul her back home before she had time to say yeah, boo, or “I'm pregnant.”

“You might as well say goodbye to me now,” she said glumly. “When Faron and Garth find out where I am they'll be coming for me.”

“No one—your brothers included—is going to take you from the Lazy S if you don't want to go,” Adam said in a hard voice.

“Does that mean you want me to stay?”

Adam nodded curtly.

She didn't want to ask, but she had to. “Is it true, what my brother said? Did you love Honey?”

That same curt nod in response.

Tate felt the constriction in her chest tighten. “Would you have married her if Jesse hadn't come along?”

Adam shoved a hand through his hair in agitation. “I don't know. I wanted to marry her. I'm not so sure she was as anxious to marry me. I asked her. She never said yes.”

That was small comfort to Tate, who was appalled to hear how close Adam had come to marrying her brother's wife.

“Is that why you can't love me?” Tate asked. “Because you're still in love with her?”

The tortured look of pain on Adam's face left Tate feeling certain she had hit upon the truth. But she didn't despair. In fact, she felt a great deal of hope. Adam must realize that he could never have Honey Whitelaw now. Time was the best doctor for a wound of the heart. And time was on her side.

She very carefully did not bring up the subject of Jesse's accusation that Adam had made love to her to get revenge on her brother. In her heart she knew Adam would never use her like that. He might not be able to say he loved her—yet—but she was certain that one day he would.

“I need a hug,” Tate said.

Adam opened his arms and Tate stepped into them. She snuggled against him, letting the love she felt flow over them both. But his body remained stiff and unyielding.

“Adam, I'm…” The word
pregnant
wouldn't come out.

“What is it, Tate?”

His voice sounded harsh in her ear, his tone still as curt as the abrupt nods with which he had acknowledged his love for another woman. Maybe Tate would just wait a little while before she told him she was carrying his child.

“I'm glad you want me to stay,” she said.

He hugged her harder, until his hold was almost painful. Tate felt tears pool in the corners of her eyes. She blamed the phenomenon now on the heightened emotions caused by her pregnancy.

But the devil on her shoulder forced her to admit that unsettling seeds of doubt had been planted concerning whether everything would turn out happily ever after.

T
ATE SPENT THE NIGHT
in Adam's arms. He couldn't have been more comforting. But for the first time since they had begun sleeping together, they didn't make love.

When they met across the kitchen table the next morning, an awkwardness existed between them that had not been there in the past.

“You must eat more,
señorita
,” Maria urged. “You will not make it through the day on so little.”

“I'm not hungry,” Tate said. Actually, she had already snuck in earlier and had a light breakfast to stave off the first symptoms of morning sickness. Under Maria's stern eye, she dutifully applied herself to the bowl of oatmeal in front of her.

Tate's concentration was so complete that she paid no attention to the subsequent conversation Maria conducted with Adam in Spanish.

“The
señorita
has been crying,” Maria said.

Adam glanced at Tate's red-rimmed eyes. “Her brother came to visit yesterday, the one she hasn't seen since she was a child.”

“This brother made her cry?”

“He wanted her to go away with him.”

“Ah. But you did not let her go.”

“She chose to stay,” Adam corrected.

“Then why was she crying?” Maria asked.

A muscle worked in Adam's jaw. At last he answered, “Because she's afraid I don't love her.”

“Stupid man! Why don't you tell her so and put the smile back on her face?”

Adam sighed disgustedly. “I don't think she'll believe me now.”

Maria shook her head and clucked her tongue. “I am going to the store to buy groceries. I will not be coming back for two—no, three hours. Tell her you love her.”

Adam's lips curled sardonically. “All right, Maria. I'll give it a try.”

Tate had been making shapes with her oatmeal and had only eaten about three bites when Maria whisked the bowl out from in front of her.

“I need to clear the table so I can go shopping,” Maria said. She refilled Tate's coffee cup. “You sit here and enjoy another cup of coffee.”

She refilled Adam's cup as well and, giving him a suggestive look, said, “You keep the
señorita
company.”

Maria took off her apron, picked up her purse and left by the kitchen door a few moments later.

When she was gone, the silence seemed oppressive. Finally Adam said, “What are your plans for today?”

“I guess I'll input some more information on the computer. What about you?”

“I'm moving cattle from one pasture to another.”

“Your job sounds like more fun than mine. Can I come along?”

“I don't think that would be a good idea.”

“Oh.”

Adam saw the look on Tate's face and realized she thought he was rejecting her—again. He swore under his breath. “Look, Tate. I think we'd better have a talk.”

Tate rose abruptly. This was where Adam told her that he had thought things over and he wanted her to leave the Lazy S after all. She wasn't going to hang around to let him do it. “I'd better get going. I—”

Adam caught her before she had gone two steps. He took her shoulders in his hands, turning her to face him. She kept her eyes lowered, refusing to look at him.

“Tate,” he said in a voice that was tender with the love he felt for her. “Look at me.”

Her eyes were more green than gold. He couldn't bear to see the sadness in them. He grasped her nape and pulled her toward him as his mouth lowered to claim hers.

It was a hungry kiss. A kiss of longing for things that ought to be. A kiss fierce with passion. And tender with love.

Adam wanted to be closer. He pulled her T-shirt up and over her head, then yanked the snaps open down the front of his shirt and pulled the tails out of his jeans. He sighed in satisfaction as he closed his arms around her and snuggled her naked breasts tight against his chest.

“Lord, sweetheart. You feel so good!” He cupped her fanny with his hands and lifted her, rubbing himself against her, letting the layers of denim add to the friction between them.

His mouth found a spot beneath her ear that he knew was sensitive, and he sucked just hard enough to make her moan with pleasure.

Adam froze when he heard the kitchen door being flung open. He whirled to meet whatever threat was there, pulling Tate close and pressing her face against his chest protectively.

Tate felt Adam's body tense, felt his shoulders square and his stance widen. She knew who it was, who it had to be. She turned her head. There in the doorway stood her three brothers, Faron, Jesse and Garth. And Garth was carrying a shotgun.

Tate felt her face flush to the roots of her hair. She was naked from the waist up, and there could be no doubt as to what she had been doing with Adam. Or, from the looks on their faces, how her brothers felt about it. She closed her eyes and clutched Adam, knowing her brothers planned to tear them apart.

“Make yourself decent!” Garth ordered.

Tate reached across to the chair where Adam had slung her T-shirt, and with her back to her brothers, pulled it over her head. When she turned to face them, Adam put an arm around her waist and pulled her snug against his hip.

The three men crowded into the kitchen. It soon became apparent they hadn't come alone. An elderly gentleman wearing a clerical collar and carrying what Tate supposed to be a Bible followed them inside.

“You have a choice,” Garth said to Adam. “You can make an honest woman of my sister, or I can kill you.”

Adam cocked a brow. “That's murder.”

Garth smiled grimly. “It'll be an accidental shooting, of course.”

“Of course,” Adam said, his lips twisting cynically. “What if Tate and I aren't ready to get married?”

“Man gets a woman pregnant, it's time to marry her,” Jesse snarled. “I made a point of seeing Doc Kowalski on the way
home last night and told her Tate was my sister. She congratulated me on the fact I'll soon be an
uncle!
”

Adam froze. He turned to stare at Tate, but she refused to meet his gaze. His hand tightened on her waist. “Are you pregnant, Tate?”

She nodded.

Adam's lips flattened and a muscle worked in his jaw. He grabbed hold of her chin and forced it up. “Whose child is it? Buck's?”

“Yours!” Tate cried, jerking her head from his grasp.

“Not mine,” he said flatly. “I'm sterile.”

Tate sank into a kitchen chair at one end of the table, her eyes never wavering from Adam's granitelike expression.

Meanwhile, Tate's brothers were in a quandary.

“We can't force him to marry Tate if the child's not his,” Faron argued.

“But it must be his!” Jesse said. “Look how we found them today!”

Garth handed the shotgun to Faron, then crossed and sat down beside Tate on the opposite side of the table from Adam. He took Tate's hand from her lap and held it in his for a moment, gently rubbing her knuckles. “I want you to be honest with me, Tate. Have you been with another man besides Adam?”

“No! I'm carrying Adam's child, whether he believes it or not!”

“Adam says he's sterile,” Garth persisted.

“I don't care what he says,” Tate said through clenched teeth. “I'm telling the truth.”

Garth and Faron exchanged a significant glance. Garth stood and confronted Adam. “Can you deny you've made love to my sister?”

“No, I don't deny that.”

“Then my original offer still holds,” Garth said.

“Given that choice, I suppose I have no choice,” Adam conceded with a stony glare.

“What about me?” Tate asked. “Don't I get a choice?”

“You'll do as you're told,” Garth commanded. “Or else.”

“Or else what?”

“You come home to Hawk's Way.”

Tate shuddered. There seemed no escape from the ultimatum Garth had given her. At least if she went through with the wedding, she would still have her freedom. Once her brothers had her safely married they would go back where they had come from—and she could figure out what to do from there.

“All right. Let's get this over with,” she said.

“Reverend Wheeler, if you please?” Garth directed the minister to the head of the table, arranged Tate and Adam on one side, and stood on the other side with Faron and Jesse.

He told Adam, “I had to cut a few corners, but I've taken care of getting the license.” He gestured to the minister. “Whenever you're ready, Reverend.”

If Reverend Wheeler hadn't baptized Tate and presided at her confirmation, he might have had some qualms about what he was about to do. Never had bride and bridegroom looked less happy to be wed. But he firmly believed in the sanctity of home and family. And Garth had promised a large donation to build the new Sunday school wing.

The reverend opened the Bible he had brought along and began to read, “Dearly Beloved…”

Tate listened, but she didn't hear what was being said, spoke
when called upon, but was unaware of the answers she gave. She had fallen into a deep well of despair.

Tate had never really thought about having a big wedding, but a white T-shirt was a poor substitute for a wedding gown. She wouldn't have minded giving up the festive trappings, if only she were sure the man standing beside her wanted to be her husband.

Adam did not.

How had things gone so wrong? Tate had never meant to trap Adam. It was clear he thought she had slept with Buck, and that the baby wasn't his. She knew from her experience with Buck and Velma that a marriage that lacked trust—on both sides—was in deep trouble. If Adam believed she had lied about the child's father, wouldn't he expect her to lie about other things? Would he, like Buck, overreact from now on if she so much as looked at another man? Of course Buck was jealous because he loved Velma. Tate wasn't so sure about Adam's feelings. He had never once said he loved her.

Tate would have given anything if she had just told Adam about the baby last night. Then, they would have had a chance to discuss things alone. Such as why a man who was obviously able to sire children thought he was sterile.

“Tate?”

“What?”

“Hold out your hand so Adam can put the ring on your finger,” Garth said.

What ring?
Tate thought.

“With this ring I thee wed,” Adam said. He slipped the turquoise ring he usually wore on his little finger on the third finger of Tate's left hand.

Tate was lost. What had happened to the rest of the ceremony? Had she said “I do”?

Reverend Wheeler said, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

When neither of the newlyweds moved, Faron said in a quiet—some might have said gentle—voice, “It's time to kiss your bride now, Adam.”

Adam wanted to refuse. It was all a sham, anyway. But when Tate turned her face up to him she looked so bewildered he felt the urge to take her in his arms and protect her.

Garth cleared his throat at the delay.

Adam's jaw tightened. Tate already had three very efficient guardians. She didn't need him. But he found himself unable to resist the temptation of her lips, still swollen from his earlier kisses. Her eyes slid closed as he lowered his head. He touched his lips lightly to hers, taking the barest taste of her with the tip of his tongue.

If this had been a real wedding he would have wanted to cherish this moment. From the shuffling sounds across the table, Adam was reminded that it was real enough. So he took what he wanted from Tate, ravaging her mouth, letting her feel his fury and frustration at what her brothers had robbed them of when they had insisted on this forced marriage.

As soon as he lifted his head Adam saw that Garth had crossed around the table. Instead of the punch in the nose Adam expected, Tate's oldest brother held out his hand to be shaken. To Adam's further surprise, Garth had a grin on his face.

“Welcome to the family,” Garth said. He gave Tate a fierce hug. “Be happy!” he whispered in her ear.

Faron was next to shake Adam's hand. “How about a drink
to celebrate?” he asked. “I've got champagne on ice outside in the pickup.”

“I guess that would be all right,” Adam said, still stunned by the abrupt change in attitude of Tate's brothers.

Faron headed outside as Jesse approached Adam. The two men eyed each other warily.

At last Jesse held out his hand. “Truce?”

When Adam hesitated, Jesse said, “Honey will kill me if we don't make peace.” When Adam still hesitated, Jesse added, “For Tate's sake?”

Adam shook hands with Tate's middle brother. They would never be good friends. But they were neighbors, and now brothers-in-law. For their wives' sakes, they would tolerate one another.