Expecting...in Texas (10 page)

He meant to reach his goals and not end up like his father: a man who took off his hat to someone else, who obeyed someone else and came home at the end of each day to a small house on someone else’s land.

The horse stood still, watching his every move. He advanced slowly, gaining ground. Gaining the animal’s confidence.

Savannah wasn’t going to trap him, Cruz thought.

But she isn’t trying
, a small voice reminded him.
If anything, he had been the one to seek her out, not the other way around. She’d done nothing to place herself in his path.

Nothing—but prey on his mind.

It was enough.

“There,” he murmured to the horse, running his hands along the animal’s silken muzzle. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

As he slipped the lariat around the animal’s neck, the question echoed in his head, replaying itself over and over again.

Fall was in the air, crisp and fresh, accompanied by a wind that was a little less than gentle, a little more than soft. It whipped through Savannah’s hair in sudden spurts of energy before settling down again to an even rhythm, and running long, stroking fingers through the tall grass.

It was brisk, and Cruz half expected Savannah to turn her horse around a few minutes into the ride and suggest that they return to the ranch. But she’d surprised him by urging her horse on into a canter, her face radiant. Her laughter blended with the sound of the wind, equally intriguing to him.

She seemed one with the elements, yet so much above them that she made him ache just to see her.

She made him ache, just being near.

They finally stopped by a stream, dismounting
to let the horses rest and graze. He watched as Savannah turned her face up to the sky. She closed her eyes, still glowing, as if she wanted the breeze to caress her. As if she were soaking up everything that the day had to offer.

He’d never known another woman quite like her.

The wind teased her hair into her face. Very gently, Cruz pushed it away before she could. He knew he should move back to give her space, but he couldn’t do it. “If it’s too windy for you, we can go back.”

“Oh, no, this is perfect.” She stepped back, spreading her arms as if she were about to embrace everything around her. “I love it like this. It makes you feel glad to be alive.”

Bemusement filtered in. She made him think of a little girl playing hooky. “Why?”

The question caught her off guard. It was just a feeling; she hadn’t bothered to explore it. Savannah shrugged, laughing as she spun about in a circle. When she swayed a little, he was quick to lock his arms around her, as if he was afraid she was going to fall down.

But she’d done all the falling she intended to.

Very gently, she disengaged herself and moved away.

“I don’t know, it just does. It’s a rush.” She
took a deep breath. “Smell it—the air’s sweet and clean and wonderful. It makes me remember when I was a little girl.” A flood of memories crowded her mind. Picnics with the grandmother who doted on her. State fairs and long rides in the country on a horse named Strawberry, in the company of a groom who frowned too much and worried that she would fall.

The radiant look on her face made Cruz envious. What was it like, to feel like that? To harbor a ray of happiness so closely that it shone out of every pore?

“What were you like as a little girl?”

She picked up a daisy, almost withered now that autumn had planted itself, and began picking at the petals one by one.

“All knees and elbows.” She could step outside of herself and see the little girl she’d been. “I was very skinny and very tall for my age.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

She laughed, tossing away the stem. “So did my parents. Neither one of them could understand how they could have created between them such a homely child. They were both very beautiful people,” she said almost wistfully. When she was little, she would have given anything to look sleek and sophisticated like her mother. Savannah
pressed her lips together. “My father suspected that my mother had lied to him.”

“Lied?”

“That she’d lied when she told him that she was pregnant with his child.” Savannah really wasn’t sure why she was sharing this with him. The words just seemed to be coming on their own. “They weren’t married at the time. But they were when I was born.” Unwilling to see the look in his eyes, Savannah turned her face forward. The day didn’t seem quite as pretty as it had been a moment before. “Biggest mistake they ever made.”

He was silent as he considered the import of what she’d just said. “Is that why you won’t admit the baby’s mine?”

Regret was instant. She knew she shouldn’t have said anything. “I won’t admit the baby’s yours because it isn’t. I told you—”

He knew what Savannah had told him. Knew too, in his heart, that it was a lie. He didn’t need his mother prodding at him the way she’d done over the past few days, telling him to take charge of his responsibility. Telling him that she “felt” the baby was her grandchild.

“I don’t have a fancy college degree, but I can do the math, Savannah. If you’re due at the beginning of March, the baby was conceived at the beginning of June. When you slept with
me
.”

She raised her chin, a bittersweet smile twisting her lips. “As I remember, sleeping wasn’t part of it.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Cruz placed his hands on her shoulders so that she couldn’t turn away from him again. “Don’t try to distract me, Savannah. You’re very good at distracting a man.” So good that even now it was hard for him to hold himself in check, to keep from taking her into his arms and losing himself in the taste of her lips. “You made love with me at the beginning of June.”

She knew she was going to pay dearly for this. Still, she forced the words out of her mouth. “How do you know you were the only one I made love with in June?”

His pride reared at the implication, but he left the bait where it was cast. It was a ruse, a ploy.

“Because I know.” His eyes held hers. “I
know
you.” Time had nothing to do with that kind of knowledge; it came when one soul understood another. “You told me then that you and your boyfriend had broken up. That he had changed his mind about wanting to get married. A woman doesn’t make that kind of admission unless its true.”

She pulled away. If he continued holding her, touching her, she was going to weaken. “Women say all kinds of things.”

“Maybe they do,” he allowed. “But you don’t.”

Confused, weary, her temper flashed. She was trying to do the right thing. Why wouldn’t he let her? “And since when have you become such an expert on me?”

“I don’t know. It’s just something that happened.” Cruz took a deep breath. His father was right. Confronted with the situation, there was only one honorable thing to do. “Marry me, Savannah.”

For one thrilling second, the word
yes
hovered in her mind. But then she squelched it. She wouldn’t say yes to something that he would live to regret and that she would live to hurt over. He didn’t even want to do it now. She saw the reluctance in his eyes, the resignation. How long before that resignation turned to resentment?

“No.”

“It’s my baby.”

Savannah whirled around on her heel, her patience shredding.

“Yes,” she shouted, tired of the pretense. “It’s your baby. Satisfied?” Before he could answer, she continued. “But you don’t have to do anything to atone for it. Can’t you understand? I don’t
want
anything from you. I don’t want your money, your name, your dreams, nothing!” How could she
make it any clearer to him than that? “This is
my
baby and
I
will raise him or her.
I
will be the one to take care of him or her, not you.” She waved an impatient hand in dismissal. “You’re free to go on with your life. I’m giving you your freedom.”

“And if I don’t want it?” he challenged, his voice rising dangerously.

Who did he think he was fooling? She fisted her hands on her hips. “Every fiber of your being wants it, Cruz. Maybe you do know me, but I know you better. You’re the wind, Cruz. Your destiny is to rustle leaves, to go from place to place, leaving your mark, but always moving on. I didn’t plan on this, but it happened, and I will deal with it. I don’t want to deal with an angry husband, as well. And that’s what you’ll be. Angry and resentful. I can’t face the rest of my life knowing that I’ll see that in your eyes.”

Doggedly determined to do the right thing, he told her, “You won’t.”

But she shook her head. Not even the smallest part of her believed the promise. No one could be that blindly optimistic.

“You’re not that good an actor. You might even mean it now, but you won’t later and later is all there is. An eternity of laters.” She crossed back to where the horses were tethered. “So spare me any noble gestures. You don’t have to soothe your
conscience.” Picking up the reins, she faced him. “I’m an independent woman, Cruz. I run up a bill, I pay it. I don’t borrow money, or give it to someone else to take care of.”

God, but this hurt, she thought. Because she knew, given a chance, that she could be happy with him. Make a life with him.

Savannah looked out on the range. The sky was growing darker. How fitting.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it is getting too cold to go on riding. I’m going back.”

Before he could stop her, she’d swung into the saddle. A second later, the horse was galloping back toward the ranch. And away from him.

Swallowing a ripe curse, Cruz swung into his own hand-tooled saddle and rode after her. He didn’t bother calling out because he knew she wouldn’t stop.

It was several minutes before he caught up to her. When he was close enough, he whistled, and the horse came to an abrupt stop.

Annoyed, she swung around in her saddle to look at him as he approached. “Very funny.”

“Handy,” was all he said before his eyes clouded again, growing more ominous than the sky above. “Damn it, woman, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Being my own person,” she snapped. Savannah pulled the reins out of his hands and kicked her heels into the horse’s flanks again.

This time, Cruz let her go.

Eight

“Y
ou and I need to talk.”

Savannah hadn’t expected Cruz to be in her doorway when she’d said, “Come in,” in response to the knock. She had been avoiding Cruz for days now, ever since the ride in the meadow.

The book she’d been reading fell from her fingers, slipping to the floor. Ignoring it, she rose to her feet. Sitting made her feel too vulnerable.

Everything about him made her feel vulnerable.

“I really don’t think we have anything to talk about,” she said stiffly.

“Oh, really?” His eyes were unfathomable as he walked into the room. “And the baby doesn’t count?”

She watched him close the door behind him, and gathered her courage. “The baby counts. The baby means everything to me.”

Purposefully, she crossed to the door and began to open it again. She didn’t want to be alone in the room with him. Her resolve was only so strong; her resistance to him was already weakening.

Cruz caught her wrist in his hand, keeping her from opening the door. “And what about me?”

Her eyes challenged him. “What about you?”

“You don’t think the baby means anything to me?”

With a yank, she pulled her wrist free. “The baby will mean a whole lot more to you if you don’t have to break your back providing for it.”

So what she was saying to him was that she thought he couldn’t provide for the baby in the same fashion that someone else could. That he’d have to break his back to do it, to keep the baby in clothes and its belly filled. And she obviously wanted better than that.

She was like the others who populated her world after all.

He stared at her for what felt like a long time, trying to control his feelings, and the flash of temper that had suddenly risen.

Because he didn’t trust himself right now, Cruz withdrew without a word.

Savannah was shaken. She stared after him. He’d left, just as she’d wanted him to.

So why wasn’t she pleased?

A deep-rooted sadness that she had no idea how to contain filled her. Moving very slowly, like someone walking at the bottom of a pool, she crossed over to the switch and turned off the lights.

Savannah laid down on her bed in the dark, drawing herself together as tightly as she could. And then she began to cry.

It was late. The sun had already risen and set up house within her room, probing at all the corners until it filled everything.

Resisting the sadness she knew was waiting for her, Savannah woke up reluctantly. There was a knot in her belly, far larger than the baby she was carrying.

Her face felt tight and drawn. Sleep had not come for a long time last night. When it had, it was ushered in with tears that refused to subside. Exhaustion had finally overtaken her.

She felt more dead than alive.

Her stomach made its presence known a few seconds after she’d opened her eyes.

“Oh, God, baby,” she pleaded in a whisper, “give me a break.”

But apparently, she wasn’t going to receive a break on any front any time soon. Her hands over her mouth, Savannah bolted and ran for the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed, Savannah left her room, not necessarily prepared to meet the world, but resigned to it. She got as far as closing her door behind her before running into
Maggie. Literally. Not paying attention, preoccupied with her own thoughts, she collided with Cruz’s sister.

“Oh, excuse me. I didn’t mean to—” Maggie abruptly halted her apology. “Are you all right?”

Savannah didn’t want to be rude, but she was in no mood to talk. “Yes.”

The youngest of five, Maggie had never been shy or retiring. And she knew a lie when she heard one.

“I don’t think so.”

Taking her hand, Maggie pushed the door to Savannah’s room open again and drew a surprised Savannah back inside. Temporarily at loose ends since her move back into her parents’ house, Maggie had volunteered to help Rosita with the housekeeping chores in the main house. She’d been on her way to the master bedroom when she’d stumbled into Savannah.