When Zach spotted the pair, he swore under his breath, which convinced Kate he was furious. When he shifted to leave the bed, she reacted instinctively, crying out and grabbing his arm.
"No! She didn't mean—" Kate scrambled to her knees, yanking at the folds of her nightgown so she could move.
"Don't hurt her! Please! I'll make sure she doesn't do it again!"
Miranda fell back against the wall and started to wail. Nosy began to bark. Kate scurried to place herself between her angry husband and her child. Zachariah scotched that plan, seizing her by the shoulders.
"You stay put," he ordered in a gravelly voice. "I'll handle this."
"No, please…" Kate grabbed his arm with both hands. "Please, Zachariah. She didn't mean it."
He jerked free of her grasp and hissed, "Stop it, Kate. You're scaring her to death."
With that, he shoved up from the bed. To Kate, he seemed a giant, a broad-shouldered, muscular giant. And her precious baby looked so small, so terribly small. She sobbed and leaped to her feet. Zachariah wheeled, clamped his hands at her waist, and lifted her back onto the mattress as if she weighed no more than the child. Helpless against such strength, Kate hugged herself and sobbed, daunted by the realization that not even Joseph in one of his rages had been able to overpower her so easily.
"I said I'll handle this," he repeated. "You stay put and keep quiet." He snapped his fingers at the barking dog.
"You, too, you no-account mutt."
His tone brooked no argument. As he traversed the floor toward Miranda, Kate pressed her hands over her mouth to stop herself from crying out, prepared to intervene if she had to, terrified of what he'd do if that became necessary. With strength such as his, one blow from one of his massive fists would probably shatter her jaw.
Regardless, if he became violent, she'd have to face him. Better her than her daughter.
Miranda shrank against the wall, her wail turning to a shriek when Zachariah reached for her.
"Hey," he said silkily, as he lifted the child into his arms. "What is this? We're best friends, remember?"
Miranda gulped and tried to arch away from him but her strength was no match. Nosy whined anxiously and nudged his master's pant leg. Kate gaped in amazement as Zachariah began to pace the room slowly, whispering soothingly and stroking the child's hair. Miranda's terrified shrieks gave way to ragged sobs, and those soon diminished to exhausted catches of breath. At last, the child hugged his neck with her tiny arms.
"There, that's better," Zachariah murmured. "Old Nosy was about to chew my leg off, afraid I was hurting you.
Since he knows I wouldn't, he's in a fine state of befuddlement."
Miranda sneaked a peek at the dog, gulping down a sob. "I'm okay, Nose," she managed.
Zachariah drew up at the window and stood there gazing out into the moonlit yard, his arms gently jostling the child to lull her. Kate continued to gape, not quite certain she believed the evidence of her own eyes.
"What happened, Mandy?" he finally asked in a low voice. "Did you wake up and want your ma?"
"I gets bad dreams," she squeaked.
"Uh-oh. Those can be scary," he sympathized.
"I waked up and it was all dark."
"That's even scarier," he agreed. "I've done the same thing, and it feels like the bad dream is real, doesn't it?"
She sniffled and snuggled closer. "Yep. But it goes away if my ma hugs me."
Zach glanced over his shoulder at Kate. "Well, let's go get you a hug, then, hm?"
With Nosy as an escort, he turned and walked slowly toward the bed. When he leaned forward, Kate reached for her daughter with trembling arms. Miranda clutched Kate's neck, digging in with pointed elbows and knees as she searched for a comfortable position. Kate held her close and hid her face in the child's hair. She felt the mattress sink under Zachariah's and Nosy's weight. The canine's cold, wet nose nudged her cheek.
"You mustn't open our bedroom door without knocking," she whispered. "Do you understand, Miranda? Not ever."
A heavy, warm hand settled on Kate's shoulder. "We'll talk about that tomorrow, Katie."
She glanced up. Belying the gentleness in his voice, his eyes glittered with unmistakable anger in the moonlight.
Dread constricted Kate's throat. He was furious with her. And in her experience a furious man was a dangerous one.
Anxious to get her child out of harm's way, just in case Zachariah's temper blew, she tightened her arms around Miranda and whispered, "Let's get you and Nosy back to your bed, little miss."
"She's still upset," he ground out. "Let her stay in here for a while."
Kate hesitated, her thoughts invaded by memories. "Y-You don't mind?"
He shot her a look that spoke volumes and threw back the quilts. "In you go," he ordered, his words clipped and harsh. "Both of you. Morning will come early. Let's try to get some sleep."
Miranda didn't need to be told twice. She scrambled from Kate's lap and dove for a spot in the center of the bed.
Zachariah fell back onto a pillow beside her, his dark chest and shoulders covering a wide margin, his eyes still aglitter in his shadowed countenance. Kate stared at the pair of them, her limbs frozen. Nosy licked her hand, as if to comfort her.
"Kate?"
The irritation in his tone spurred her into moving. On shaky knees, she crawled forward, flipped the quilt and sheet out of her way, and lay down, her back wedged against the wall. Miranda sighed and burrowed down in the softness between them. Nosy found a vacant spot at Miranda's feet and flopped down, for all the world as if he was welcome there. Uncertain how her husband might react to that, Kate swallowed, her mouth dry and cottony.
She heard Zachariah sigh, the sound filled with annoyance.
Fearful that he still might vent his rage, she managed to croak. "I—I'm sorry."
"We'll talk about it tomorrow," he warned.
A knot of dread formed in the hollow of her belly. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying not to think about it, but unable to ignore his anger, which seemed to electrify the air.
Minutes passed, the seconds dragging as slowly as footsteps mired in wet clay. To Kate, the silence was a terrible thing, so thick it nearly suffocated her.
For Zach, the silence was accusing.
He lay there, his gaze fixed on Joseph Blakely's ceiling. Beside him lay the man's child and his wife. Signed documents couldn't change that. The bastard owned them, heart and soul. Even from the grave, he still had the power to hurt them.
Zach's arm still stung where Kate's nails had raked his skin. The terror he'd heard in her voice clawed at his conscience now. How could he have reacted as he had? At the moment, it had seemed imperative that he be the one to collect the child, if for no other reason than to prove he wasn't the monster her mother clearly believed him to be.
But what of Kate? What of her fear? And what of her feelings? Their wedding this afternoon had forever altered their relationship, putting her into a position of subservience, he into one of ultimate authority. That was the way it went in their society. She was carrying a load of unpleasant memories into this marriage, and he couldn't expect her to trust him immediately simply because he smiled a lot. To her, having a husband was synonymous with hell on earth, and it was going to take a spell before he could show her that it could be different.
He wasn't going to manage that by snarling at her when she grew frightened. Even now, he could still feel the tension in her. There wasn't much he could do about that, not with the child lying between them. He smiled slightly, recalling the time Miranda had told her mother that her ears stayed awake longer than her eyes.
Whatever he had to say to Kate was going to have to wait until morning.
Rolling onto his side, Zach curled one arm around Miranda and stretched his other across the pillows to rest his hand on Kate's hair. He felt the jolt of fear that ran through her at his unexpected touch. Threading his fingertips to her scalp, he began a light massage, trying in the only way he knew to let her know he was no longer angry.
As if he had a right to be…
"It's going to be all right," he whispered. "We just need time, Kate."
She stirred slightly but didn't answer. He hated to leave her fretting for the entire night, but the child's presence between them limited what he could say. A fine line, that was what he walked, and it wasn't going to be easy.
Both mother and daughter were going to need constant reassurance for a spell. The problem was that he couldn't reassure Kate that he would never harm her child without putting it into Miranda's head that he might.
For now, Kate's anxieties had to play second fiddle. As much as he hated that, he also knew Kate would want it that way.
Everything for Miranda, nothing for herself. That's the way it had been for a number of years, he guessed.
Another few hours wouldn't kill her.
* * *
The next morning, Kate spent more effort on breakfast than she usually did. Ham, eggs, fried spuds, biscuits, and milk-gravy, a meal fit for a king. Sometimes, though not often, a particularly tasty meal had appeased Joseph when he was in a foul mood.
When Zachariah came in from doing the milking, Kate stiffened. After stomping his boots clean on the stoop, he stepped inside, the milk pail swinging wide of one lean leg as he turned to shut the door. Dark windswept hair, red cotton, faded denim, leather. Everything about him screamed
man
as he passed behind her to set the bucket on the tripod.
He seemed surprised by the spread she had put on the table. Rubbing his thigh, he lowered himself onto a chair and smiled. "If this isn't the finest breakfast I've ever clapped eyes on, I'll be hornswoggled."
Kate rubbed her hands dry on her apron. "A man needs his nourishment before he starts his day."
"So does a woman, and it looks to me like you've already put in a fair amount of work. Come sit down."
Miranda climbed up onto a chair. Nosy positioned himself beside her to catch any morsels she might drop.
Zachariah gave the dog an amused glance. "Such loyalty. I raised him from a pup, and what's he turn toward me now? His south end."
Kate perched on a chair, not at all certain she could eat but determined to make a good show of it. Normality, that was her aim. She tried not to look at her husband, but his was a presence that was difficult to ignore.
Damp curls the rich brown of chocolate fell across his high forehead, and he was freshly shaved. He wore his red shirt unbuttoned at the throat to reveal a patch of bronzed chest and curly dark hair, the sleeves rolled back over his powerfully muscled forearms. When he took knife and fork in hand to slice his ham, it seemed to her he was all shoulders. With his gaze cast downward at his plate, the fan of his mahogany eyelashes shadowed the masculine planes of his cheekbones. Early morning sunshine coming through the window highlighted the bold bridge of his nose and glanced off the stubborn thrust of his squared jaw.
Uncomfortable with the silence, she observed, "Your leg's paining you this morning."
He lifted his gaze to hers. Shot through with sunlight, his hazel eyes gleamed as golden as a predatory cat's. "It'll take a spell to heal completely. Deep wounds often do."
The words seemed to carry a double meaning. Uncertain exactly what he meant, she searched his eyes and couldn't mistake the lambent gleam of desire in those golden depths. Because she knew he must still be angry about her outburst last night, the yearning she read in his expression unsettled her even more than it might have otherwise. How could a man want a woman when he was furious with her? Because Joseph had resented his need of her, he had taken her in anger more times than not. But that didn't mean she'd ever come to accept it.
She bent her head, visions of what had transpired between her and Zachariah last night making her cheeks hot.
Did he always remove his shirt? she wondered. The idea seemed scandalous to her. And on the bed? Joseph had never taken her there, and Kate couldn't figure how it must be done—unless, of course, she availed herself on hands and knees. That seemed so animalistic. It would be doubly so if he was in a foul mood when he came to her.
She filled her mouth with potato. The more she chewed, the bigger the mouthful seemed to grow. Through the veil of her lashes, she watched Zachariah eat and wondered if he'd go after her with the same enthusiasm. He wasn't a very refined man. It was the height of his ambition to grow grapes and produce sinner's swill. He hadn't even paused to say a blessing before beginning the meal. He swore so frequently that she scarcely even noticed it anymore. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised if it turned out that he went at coupling like a barnyard beast.
If he did, she wouldn't have a whole lot to say about it. Yesterday she hadn't dreaded the moment when they would mate. Now she did because she had no idea what to expect from him.
Didn't Joseph touch you and kiss
you?
Kate tried to swallow and choked on the potatoes. Only a quick gulp of milk saved her from strangling.
When she recovered, Zachariah was staring at her with a speculative twinkle in his eyes.
Miranda finished her meal first. As she slid from her chair, Zachariah tweaked her nose and said, "How's about you gathering the eggs for your ma this morning? After we get the chores all done here, I've got to go over to my place, and I thought I'd take you along. Would you like that?"
Miranda squealed with delight and ran to fetch the egg basket. "I'll gather 'em up lickety-split!"
"No hurry," he said with a chuckle. "I've got work piled up here that I have to do before we go."
With the basket handle over one arm, Miranda let herself out the back door.
"Slow down, girl. Or you'll bring back scrambled eggs!" he called.
The door slammed with a wall-shaking bang. Then a tense silence settled over the kitchen. Kate chased a piece of ham with her fork, acutely aware that the moment she had been dreading had arrived.
"About last night," they both said at once.
Kate broke off, and he flashed a white-toothed grin. "Can I go first?" he asked.
She laid down her fork and knotted her hands in her lap. "Certainly. Except that I'd just like to say I'm—"
He held up a hand. "You can say your piece in a minute. First let me apologize."
Her mind tripped on that, and it took her a moment to regain her balance. "Apologize?"
He hooked an arm over the back of his chair and leaned back to study her. "Yes. First off, for acting like an ass.
And secondly for letting you fret all night thinking I was mad."
Uncertain what to say, Kate took refuge in silence. His twinkling eyes caressed her features as though she were a painting he meant to memorize.
"I'm sorry I was sharp with you," he said slowly. "After all you've been through, it's natural for you to be protective of your child. I shouldn't have gotten upset with you for that. It was just—" He shrugged. "You scared Mandy, and I couldn't think past that until I calmed down. I wanted to prove a point, and instead I made things worse. Next time I'll try to be a little more understanding."
Kate hadn't received an apology from a man since before her marriage to Joseph. She couldn't quite believe she was getting one now—and a sincere one, at that. To her dismay, she felt tears springing to her eyes. She blinked to dispel them, but more welled up to take their place. Then she felt her chin start to quiver. Embarrassed, she rose from her chair and started scraping plates.
"I didn't mean to make you cry," he said softly.
"I'm not." She swiped angrily at her cheek. "It's that dad-blamed pepper. When I use too much, it—"
The legs of his chair scraped the floor. He stood and stepped around the table. Before she could react, he snaked an arm around her waist and drew her toward him. The plate she held dug into his hard belly. He glanced down at the remains of her meal and narrowed an eye.
"I think something's coming between us."
That suited Kate just fine. He apparently didn't share the sentiment and took the plate from her hand to set it on the table. As he drew her firmly into his arms, it occurred to her that nothing was coming between them now but meager barriers of cloth that acted like heat conductors. Her breasts burned where they pressed against his chest.
"I'm sorry, Katie. I wanted to tell you so last night, but with Mandy listening, I didn't think it was a good idea.
You and me discussing whether or not I might hurt her when I'm mad could put ideas in her head."
"I didn't mean to overreact," she said in a choked voice. "It's just that Joseph—she wasn't allowed to come into our room without knocking, and he got so furious when she forgot."
"I figured that." He curled a hand over the back of her head and nuzzled her temple. "I got a little testy myself."
"I'll make sure she—"
"We," he corrected. "We'll teach her together, Kate. Everything's new to her, and she's only four. It'll take time."
"But if you get testy—"
"I'll just get testy," he said with a rumbling chuckle.
"But unless I take steps, she'll do it again."
"Then I'll get good at diving for covers." He moved back to take her face between his hands. "She'll learn. I'll have a talk with her this morning on the way over to my place and slip it into the conversation sort of casual-like.
I don't want a big issue made of it. That might make her afraid to come to our room when she's scared, and we don't want that."
"We don't?"
His mouth quirked at the corners. "No, ma'am, we don't." He bent his head to kiss the tip of her nose. "I can see there are a number of lessons to be learned around this place. Let's hope I prove to be a good teacher, hm?"