Expecting...in Texas (11 page)

Maggie indicated the bed to Savannah as she made her way into the bathroom. “Why don’t you lie down for a minute and I’ll get you a cold compress?” It was an instruction, not a question.

Savannah glanced at her watch. It was already late and she had work to do. “No, I—”

“Your eyes are all swollen and red.” Maggie’s voice rose above the running water in the sink.
“You really don’t want to have anyone see you looking like that, do you?”

Wringing out the washcloth, she walked back into the bedroom. She looked expectantly at Savannah, who gave in and sat down on the bed. With a gentle hand, Maggie pushed her back until she was laying down, then placed the cloth across her forehead.

“They’ll ply you with a lot of useless questions you don’t want to deal with right now.”

Savannah watched her from beneath the cloth. “But you’re not going to?” she asked suspiciously.

“I don’t have to ask questions. I have a strong suspicion.”

“Like your mother? Visions?”

Maggie laughed as she looked around the room. The decor was cheery and made her think of Savannah. But there were no framed photographs hanging on the wall, no candid shots propped up against the lamps or carelessly left on the bureau or tables. Weren’t there people in her life she wanted to remember?

“Only the kind of ‘visions’ I see with my own eyes, right in front of me. But this isn’t very extraordinary. A blind man could see it.”

By ‘this’ Savannah had an uneasy feeling Maggie meant her reaction to Cruz and his last visit.
Still, she feigned ignorance. Maybe she was wrong. “See what?”

“That there’s something going on between you and my brother.” Moving her head, Savannah raised a corner of the washcloth to see if Maggie was about to censure her. Maggie’s expression told her otherwise. “I’m all for it, personally. It’s about time Cruz had someone in his life.”

Now that was funny, Savannah thought. “From what I hear, Cruz has a great many ‘someones’ in his life.”
Too many
, she added silently.

But there was a difference, Maggie thought. Hadn’t Cruz made Savannah realize that? No, of course not. He was a man, and men had this ridiculous notion that women just understood what was left unspoken. They didn’t realize that sometimes words were needed.

“Those are just tourists, passing through. I’m talking about someone who’s interested in settling down, settling in.” And Savannah, Maggie sensed, was a nester.

Savannah bit her lower lip. “I’m not interested in that.”

Maggie didn’t believe Savannah for a minute. She’d seen the way the two had looked at each other. Seen the way they’d interacted—or not interacted, as was now the case. There was too much smoke for there not to be a fire.

Maggie raised a brow. “Oh?”

Savannah sighed, wishing she could somehow disappear beneath the cloth the way a child thought she disappeared from view just because her eyes were shut and she couldn’t see anyone. “Your brother isn’t a wild mustang I intend to break.”

The stereotypical description surprised Maggie. From everything she’d heard and observed, she would have expected more insight from Savannah. “Then you haven’t been paying attention to him, or his work.”

“His work?”

Maggie touched a little figurine of a stallion, rearing on his hind legs on the shelf next to the window. She found it interesting that Savannah had left this knickknack that was already in the room when she moved in. Interesting and telling.

“Cruz doesn’t ‘break’ mustangs, he gentles them. Brings their best side out, their ‘gifts,’ if you will.”
The way he might with the right kind of woman
, Maggie thought. “The way I always saw it, he was doing the horse a favor.”

“Nice sentiment.” But it still didn’t have anything to do with her, Savannah thought. Or with them.

“
True
sentiment,” Maggie corrected.

It looked as if she was going to have to spell this out for Savannah, Maggie decided. Obviously,
the woman had been hurt. Cruz was not the most easygoing man, even if he gave that impression. Inside him there was a cauldron of swirling emotions. Sometimes, they burned.

“Cruz has been drop-dead beautiful and pigheadedly stubborn all of his life and all at the same time. He also has a chip on his shoulder,” Maggie added matter-of-factly.

Savannah laughed shortly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“The Twin Towers would be easier to miss. To him, the world is divided into ‘them’ and ‘us.”’ Maggie figured she wasn’t saying anything that Savannah probably didn’t already know, or at least suspect. “He wants to show ‘them’ that he’s every bit as good as they are.”

“He is.” It had never occurred to Savannah that Cruz had any reason to feel inferior. He certainly didn’t behave as if he was.

“Yes, he is,” Maggie agreed. “But in his heart, he’s not sure.”

Maggie had realized that about her brother a long time ago, piecing together offhanded words and fragments of scenarios over the years. It made her heart ache that Cruz should feel this way. But she’d figured out the origins of the sentiment, at least in part.

“He’s been used by those same ladies who flock to him.” She saw the question in Savannah’s eyes
as she looked at her beneath the compress. “Used as a trophy. Their one wild affair with ‘The Cowboy,”’ Maggie elaborated. “The blame belongs to both of them—to Cruz and to the women.” Her brother certainly wasn’t lily-white in this. But he was her brother, and she loved him dearly. “But it soured him when he realized that was all he was to them—a trophy, a pelt. A thing.”

“You mean he was idealistic once?”

Maggie smiled. He’d probably have her head for saying this. But some things were more important than supporting his machismo. “Yes, and under all that bravado, Cruz still is. You just have to reach in far enough to get to it.”

“Provided he wants to have it reached.”

Maggie lifted one shoulder carelessly before letting it drop again. “Whether he thinks he does or not doesn’t matter. What does is that he’d be a better person for it. And happier.” She looked down at Savannah. “I think you can make him happy.”

“Why would you think that? You hardly know me.”

Maggie laughed. “Because I’ve never seen him more miserable.”

Savannah sighed. She had a headache, but it wasn’t impairing her reasoning. This was a broader
leap than she felt up to making. “You’re going to have to explain that.”

“If you didn’t count, he’d be behaving the way he always does—cocky, self-assured. In other words, he’d be Cruz.”

“And he’s not Cruz now?”

Maggie shook her head. “Not the Cruz I know. He’s changed since you came to live at the ranch.”

For a second, Savannah remained where she was, hiding behind a bit of blue, plush terry cloth. And then she made a decision. There was no doubt in her mind that Maggie knew about the pregnancy. Everyone on the ranch probably did. But parentage was another matter.

Savannah pulled the washcloth from her forehead and sat up. “That’s because—”

Maggie nodded, wanting to spare her. “I know all about the baby.”

“Yes, but—”

“And that it’s Cruz’s.”

Surprise stole her words away for a beat before allowing them to form. “He told you?”

“He didn’t have to. I told you— I watch, I observe. The pieces aren’t all that difficult to put together. My mother suspected it first, but then my mother always suspects things, and she’s only right part of the time.” Maggie grinned. “Not that she’d admit it.” Moving a little closer to her on the bed,
Maggie placed her hand over Savannah’s in silent friendship. She’d taken a liking to this woman almost from the start. In some matters, she and her brother reacted identically. “The way I see it, the question now is, how do you feel about Cruz?”

Savannah was generally open with people, but there was always a tiny edge left for self-preservation. She teetered on it now. “I honestly don’t know. There are feelings, but—”

Maggie cut her off. “Sorry, not my place to ask that. And I know all about those jumbled feelings,” she assured Savannah quickly. “Been there myself.” Her thoughts drifted for a moment, touching warm places from the past. “More than once.”

Maggie was giving her privacy, and Savannah appreciated the gesture. “The thing I am clear about,” Savannah told her honestly, “is that I don’t want to rope your brother in.”

“That’s exactly why I think you’d be perfect for him.”

“You lost me.”

Patiently, Maggie explained. “You don’t want anything from him. He’s not a trophy to you, or—forgive me—a one-night stand.” It was an insulting term, but one that had fit Cruz’s activities more than once. “You think of him as a person.”

“He
is
a person. A very exciting person.”
Remembering their fateful night together, Savannah’s expression softened a little. “Without a doubt, the most exciting person I’ve ever met.”

Maggie grinned. And wouldn’t his head swell if he heard that? “I wouldn’t go that far. But if you feel that way about him…”

The implication was clear. If she felt that way, why wouldn’t she marry him? Savannah shook her head. “I won’t trap him—and that’s exactly how he’ll feel. If he doesn’t feel that now.”

Maggie knew she was interfering, but she’d already gone all this way—a few more inches weren’t going to matter. Besides, when you loved someone, it wasn’t interfering so much as looking out for them. Cruz had always looked after her. It was time she returned the favor.

“I believe what Cruz feels now is that you don’t think he’s good enough for you.”

“What? How did he get that idea? I never said—”

“You have to remember that you’re Vanessa’s friend. That puts you in a completely different class. The same class as all those women who came to his bed so willingly just for the thrill of it.” Maggie smiled. “He doesn’t think I know about them, but I do.”

Upset, Savannah hardly heard what Maggie was saying. It had never occurred to her that Cruz
would misunderstand the reason for her refusal. “I can’t have him thinking that.”

“No,” Maggie agreed. “You can’t.” Satisfied, she rose and took the washcloth from Savannah’s hand. “You look much better now.”

Savannah glanced toward the mirror hanging over the bureau. Her complexion was no longer pallid. Color was returning to her face, ushered in by what Maggie had shared with her.

“Then I’d better go.” Savannah smiled her gratitude to the other woman for taking the time to talk with her. “Thanks.”

Maggie inclined her head, the way Savannah had often seen Cruz do. “Don’t mention it.”

Savannah didn’t waste time on breakfast. Her stomach in a new kind of knot, she knew she couldn’t eat anyway. Instead, she went out to find Cruz. She wasn’t sure just what she would say to him, only that she had to clear the air. She had to clear away the ridiculous assumption that she had turned him down because she felt she was too good for him or the life he had to offer.

She’d come from money and knew firsthand that it didn’t buy happiness. Happiness was a gift.

Do better? How could you do any better than to marry the person you loved?

Cruz wasn’t at the corral where she normally
saw him. The enclosure was empty. Disappointment bit into her as she looked helplessly around.

“Are you looking for someone?”

She turned around to see Ruben approaching her. His smile was gentle, kind. With very little imagination, she could see him as the father she’d always wanted.

“I’m looking for Cruz—”

Ruben shook his head apologetically. “He’s not here. He’s training the horse in the meadow today. To see how he does without confinements.”

Murphy’s law
, she thought, frustrated. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Not until much later. I could send one of the hands to get him—”

No, she didn’t want to make Cruz feel as if she was summoning him. He already misunderstood too much. “No, that’s all right. It can wait.” Turning, she began walking away.

“I’ll let him know you were looking for him,” he called after her.

“Thank you.”

Savannah banked down her impatience. She wanted to ride out to Cruz, but there was her own work to see to. She wasn’t about to take advantage of the Fortunes by being lax. She knew they probably wouldn’t mind, but she would. So she went
back to the house, to the office on the first floor, and did her work. Or tried to.

Every so often, she caught herself gazing out the window, but Cruz never returned. His father was right. Apparently, Cruz was gone for the day.

Maggie’s words ringing in her ears, Savannah grew more restless as the day progressed.

How could he possibly have thought that she drew some sort of caste line between them? That she had refused his proposal because she thought herself better than him?

Just how stupid was this man? Couldn’t he tell how she felt? That he made her weak in the knees. That waking up each morning with him beside her was something she held as an unattainable dream? That she was in anguish because she had to turn him down, even though she had it in her power to make her dream come true, at least physically?

But it was emotional, not physical, commitment she wanted. She wanted Cruz to love her first, then propose—not marry her out of some sense of duty and honor. Duty and honor were all well and good for a soldier, but not for a husband. At least, not as a primary motive for marriage.

She wanted him to be as crazy about her as…well, as she was about him.

She sighed. Okay, it was out, if only in her own mind. She was crazy about him. In love with him.
So much in love that she was afraid even to acknowledge it for fear that she’d disintegrate under its heat.

Damn it, he should be grateful to her for being so stupidly noble when another woman would…

Eventually, another woman
would
, she thought sadly. Blinking back tears, Savannah turned from the computer screen. Another woman would grace his bed, bear his children, hear the words that she wanted to hear.

Another woman, but not her.

“That’s right, make yourself nuts,” she muttered accusingly to herself.

“Why would you want to do that?”

Swiveling around in her chair, Savannah saw Vanessa looking at her as she walked in, a bemused smile on her lips.