Comanche Woman (35 page)

Once upon a time Bay would have greeted Rip’s dictum with resignation. But Bay had more to say, and so she said it. “The choice is mine. I’ll make my own decision whether or not to become Jonas’s wife.”

Bay could hardly believe the look of approval in Rip’s eyes, but there was no mistaking his smile when he replied, “All right, Bay. You know your own mind. I’ll trust you to decide what’s right for you. But think about it, won’t you? Jonas will make a good husband, and you do care for him. I can’t tell you what to say to Jonas about Long Quiet. But I will say it won’t help for him to know. It can only hurt.”

Rip turned on his heel and left. Bay stared after him for a moment, too numb to move. Rip had actually said she could make her own decision. She wasn’t the only one who’d changed over the past three years. The Rip who could admit he cared, the Rip who could reach out a hand to help, the Rip who said she could decide for herself was not the same Rip who’d dictated to his daughters in the past. He’d mellowed with age, like a fine wine.

Bay visualized her father as he was, with threads of gray in his hair and wrinkles on his face. He wasn’t a young man anymore. Were the changes in his personality simply the result of his getting older? Or, given a second chance, had he decided to treat her as more than a disappointing daughter? Whatever the reasons for his new behavior, Bay was more than willing to meet him halfway. She would try to be worthy of the trust he was showing in her judgment.

Unfortunately, all she wanted to do right now was lay her head down and cry. She barely made it to the chair in front of the desk before she collapsed with her head cradled in her arms on the desktop. She cried for the loss of her Comanche child. She cried for the father who was growing old. And she cried for the true love she’d lost and could never hope to find again.

Sloan had come to the plantation office to ask Bay to order more nails and had ended up hearing more than she wanted to of Rip’s conversation with Bay. When she stepped into Rip’s office, she found her sister with her head down on the desk, her tear-streaked face half hidden in her arms. Sloan hated seeing Bay suffer, especially over a man.

“Crying won’t bring him back.”

Bay jerked her head up at the sound of Sloan’s voice. She quickly wiped the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her dress.

“I ought to know,” Sloan continued. “I cried enough tears when Antonio got himself killed.”

“Long Quiet’s not dead.”

“He might as well be. Face it, Bay. He’s never coming back. You’re learning, the same as I did, that you can’t trust a man not to hurt you. He’ll take your heart and tear it in two and throw the pieces back in your face like so much useless paper.”

“I love him,” Bay protested.

Sloan laughed, and the harsh sound sent chills up Bay’s spine.

“He used you. The way Antonio used me.”

“No!”

“You’re better off forgetting him,” Sloan said, but her voice broke when she placed her hand on Bay’s shoulder and added, “I’m sorry, Bay. Truly sorry.”

When Sloan left, Bay wiped the tears from her eyes. Sloan was right about one thing. Crying wasn’t going to solve anything. She couldn’t believe Sloan was right about Long Quiet’s using her, but the fact was he’d left her and he wasn’t ever coming back. Admitting the truth was hard, and it left her hurt and angry. But it also left her free to make her decision.

Bay wasn’t so distraught that she couldn’t see what the future held for her. She could refuse Jonas’s proposal, but what would that accomplish? She knew Rip too well to think he wouldn’t find another man to present to her in Jonas’s place. And maybe the next man wouldn’t be someone she liked as much as she liked Jonas. . . . And at least Jonas loved her.

Her decision wasn’t so difficult after all.

The next day Bay took special pains with her appearance. She donned a green cambric dress that left the tops of her shoulders bare, then followed the lines of her lush figure, cinching her waist tightly before it fell in gathered folds to the floor. The mint color emphasized her honey skin and complemented her auburn hair, which she parted down the middle and let fall in pert sausage curls that framed her face.

When Jonas arrived that afternoon, she didn’t keep him waiting. “Hello, Jonas.” This time she was first to extend her hands to him. She could see his delight at her appearance and his surprise that she’d made the overture to greet him for a change.

“You’re lovely. Simply lovely,” Jonas said, his approval making his voice husky. He brought her hands to his lips, but let them linger, taking his time and letting her feel his need in the pressure of his touch. He was smiling ruefully when he said, “Will you marry me, Bay?”

“Yes.”

Jonas stood stunned while he tried to absorb Bay’s agreement. “You will?”

“Yes, Jonas. I’ll marry you.” Bay felt almost ill, but the discomfort eased somewhat at the smile of pleasure that lit Jonas’s face.

“We’ll announce our engagement at the christening party,” he said enthusiastically, “and get married at Christmas. How does that sound?”

“I . . . uh . . . fine . . . I guess.”

Bay was cut off when Jonas’s mouth came down to cover hers possessively. It was a practiced kiss and Bay wondered for a moment where Jonas had learned it. It amazed her that she could remain detached enough to make such an observation. Although Jonas’s kiss was pleasant, she felt nothing of the fire she’d experienced in Long Quiet’s arms. She tried to imagine baring herself to Jonas’s gaze, allowing him to touch her freely. She shuddered unexpectedly but attributed it to the natural modesty she would have felt at having any man look upon her naked body.

“I can feel you trembling with pleasure, sweetheart,” Jonas said, breaking the kiss. “Perhaps that kiss was a bit too forward, but I wanted you to have some idea of the delights in store for you when we’re husband and wife. Shall we go find your father and tell him the good news?”

“You go,” Bay said with a tremulous smile. She’d agreed to marry Jonas, but that didn’t mean she was ready to endure Rip’s sure-to-be-satisfied countenance.

“I’ll see you later, darling,” Jonas said.

Bay concentrated to keep from frowning at Jonas’s endearment. She stood patiently as he dropped another quick kiss on her lips, before he headed in search of Rip.

Bay slid onto the settee as her knees buckled. What had she done? How was she ever gong to survive her wedding night with Jonas Harper? What was he going to say when he discovered that the woman he thought trembled at his amorous kiss wasn’t even a virgin?

The next three weeks passed slowly for Bay. Jonas was delighted that she’d accepted his proposal. Rip stalked around the plantation wearing a perpetual grin. It was Luke who made Bay uneasy. His perceptive eyes watched her constantly, and it was clear he wasn’t fooled by the smile she wore for everyone else’s benefit.

At long last, Tom and Amy Creed arrived at Three Oaks with their five-year-old son Seth and one-year-old daughter Emily. The house was filled with the sound of children’s laughter, reminding Bay all the more of what she’d left behind in
Comanchería
. With Tom and Amy’s arrival, the christening—and thus, the announcement of Bay’s engagement—was set for the third Sunday in October.

As the day drew near, Bay became more agitated. She had trouble concentrating on her work and began taking long walks down along the river after supper. She was taking such a walk when she became aware of a presence behind her. As though sensing he’d been discovered, Luke said, “Hello, Bay.”

She turned to confront him. “I prefer to walk alone.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to ask you a question.”

“All right, ask.”

“Are you happy about becoming Jonas Harper’s wife?” Luke searched Bay’s violet eyes for the truth.

Bay forced herself to smile. “Of course I’m happy. I’m marrying a man who loves me, who’s well liked by my family and rich enough to satisfy even my father. Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

“You didn’t say anything about loving Jonas.”

“Didn’t I? Of course I . . . love Jonas. He’s a wonderful man, a wonderful friend. I’m sure we’ll be very happy together. There, does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” Luke said. “It does.” He turned and walked away, leaving Bay alone once more.

Bay sank onto a nearby log because her legs were trembling so badly they wouldn’t hold her upright. Luke Summers hadn’t believed a single word she’d said.

That wasn’t surprising, because neither did she.

Chapter 18

I’
M ENGAGED TO
J
ONAS
H
ARPER.
B
AY STARED DOWN AT THE
immense ruby set in gold that adorned her left hand. The ring, which visibly marked her as Jonas’s future bride, felt heavy on her hand. She caught sight of Luke staring at her, a look of concern on his face, and smiled brightly at him.
I will be happy with Jonas
, she vowed fiercely to herself.
I will
.

The engagement announcement had been made immediately following the christening of Jesse Elizabeth Creed and had surprised and delighted the assembled planters, their wives, sons, and daughters. Nearly everyone present had made it a point to greet the prodigal daughter who’d returned to capture the heart and hand of one of the richest and most handsome bachelors in the Republic of Texas. Bay stood in a daze as she was approached by yet another of the multitude of well-wishers mingling in Rip’s parlor.

“You’re looking very well, Bayleigh.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Kuykendall,” Bay replied. Bay’s smile looked genuine, but after two hours of politely greeting curious guests, she was having a hard time keeping it that way. She couldn’t blame them for staring at her. After all, she had changed. It was just that what they saw as increased self-assurance garnered from attending fetes on the Continent actually resulted from three years of survival under the harshest conditions imaginable.

“I’ve come to take you away from all this,” a husky voice rasped in her ear.

Bay turned to face Jonas but kept her strained smile in place. He, no less than anyone else, must be convinced of her happiness this afternoon.

“You’re breathtaking,” he whispered. “Come away with me and be my wife.”

“I think I already promised to do that,” she said with a strained laugh.

“Oh, there you are, Bay.”

Bay turned sharply as she recognized the voice of Felicia Myers. Felicia wore a dress so stylish Bay was sure it must have been pictured in the most recent issue of
Godey’s Lady’s Book
from New York, but in a color that could most accurately be described as harlot red.

“Wherever did you get that dress?” Felicia asked, gesturing with her closed fan at Bay’s simple lavender silk day dress.

“I made it,” Bay replied.

“Goodness. I’d have thought with all the money Rip Stewart has he could afford to hire a seamstress.”

“I think I see Amber Kuykendall,” Bay said. “I haven’t had a chance to speak with her yet. Will you excuse me, please?”

It was only after Bay escaped that she realized she’d left Jonas standing with Felicia. She turned and watched Jonas basking in Felicia’s obvious admiration. A moment later she saw from the feline smile on Felicia’s face that Jonas had returned the compliment. She watched Felicia’s slim white fingers come out to stroke Jonas’s sleeve . . . and felt nothing.

She should feel jealous. She should want to claw Felicia’s eyes out. She should want to rescue Jonas from the clutches of that green-eyed lady tomcat in her harlot-red dress. What she felt was . . . faintly ill.