Heiress (65 page)

"Yes." But her body language was giving him an entirely different answer.

"This is the way it should be every morning, Abbie: you and me in the same bed and Eden sleeping in the next room."

"I'd better get up. I don't want her waking up alone in a strange room." Shifting position, she reached for his wristwatch on the nightstand and glanced at the dial. "It's eight o'clock already. I need to get Eden up, finish packing, and get out to the airport in time to catch our flight."

MacCrea checked the move she made to get out of bed.

"Take a later plane. Stay here with me awhile longer."

For an instant she gazed at him longingly, then she shook her head. "I can't." She rolled away from him to the other side of the bed. "Dobie's meeting us at the airport."

Disturbed by something in her tone, he stared at her slim back, watching as she picked the short nightgown off the floor and slipped it on. He wanted to pull her back onto the bed and make her stay. With some women that might work, but he knew Abbie wasn't one of them. Stifling his frustration, he reached for the pair of slacks lying on the floor and stepped into them.

As he pulled them up around his hips, coins and keys jingling in the pockets, he turned to study her. "You are going to tell him about us, aren't you?" She hesitated ever so slightly, but didn't answer. As she moved toward the connecting door between the two rooms, MacCrea didn't like the implication of her silence one damned bit. "Don't leave yet, Abbie—not unless you want this conversation to take place in front of Eden."

She paused short of the door and turned back as he came around the bed. "Why? What is there to talk about?"

But he didn't buy her attempt to feign ignorance. "About us, of course. Or didn't last night mean anything to you?" He was certain it had. He'd stake everything he owned on it.

"Of course, it did." She avoided his gaze, the action telling him more than she realized.

Confident now of her answer, he could ask, "Abbie, do you love me?"

She sighed and nodded. "Yes."

"You know this changes everything, Abbie." He watched the play of warring emotions upon her face. "You can't stay married to him now. You have to tell him the truth. You know that."

"I don't know any such thing," she retorted tightly.

MacCrea gritted his teeth, wanting to shake her until her own rattled. "What are you, Abbie? Too stubborn or too proud to admit you made a mistake? Or are you planning to be just like your father and stay married to someone you don't love and make everyone's life as miserable as your own?"

"That's not true," she flashed, startled into anger by his accusation.

"Isn't it? Then tell me just how long you expect me to go on living with this lie of yours?"

"I don't know. I haven't had time to think. I—"

"You'd better find the time, and quickly," MacCrea warned. "I've played it your way long enough. I'm not going to live the rest of my life this way, sneaking off to meet you whenever you can get away."

"Don't threaten me, MacCrea Wilder." Tears glittered in her blue eyes, adding a hot brilliance to them.

"It isn't a threat." Sighing, he took her by the shoulders, feeling her stiffness. "We love each other, Abbie. And I'm not going to let you do this to us."

"It just isn't as easy as you think it is," she said, continuing to protest faintly.

"But it's got to be easier than living a lie the rest of our lives."

She leaned against him and hugged him around his middle, like a child seeking comfort and reassurance. "I do love you, Mac. It's just so hard anymore to figure out what's right or wrong. I always thought I knew."

He kissed her. He didn't know what else to say or do.

The farmhouse bedroom stared back at her, its silence somehow heavy. The old hardwood furniture of mixed styles was nicked and scarred from years of use, but still more than serviceable. Dobie didn't believe in replacing something just because it was old. He waited until it was practically falling apart. The pretty chintz bedspread and pale blue linen curtains at the windows were her choices. At the time, getting them had seemed a minor triumph, but now, Abbie didn't care at all about them.

With enough clothes packed to last several days, she closed the lid of the suitcase and swung it off the bed. As she set it on the floor behind the bedroom door, her glance fell on the gold wedding band she wore. She twisted it off her finger, hesitated, then slipped it into the pocket of her white cotton shirtdress.

Downstairs a door slammed. Frowning slightly, Abbie paused to listen. When she heard footsteps in the kitchen, she went to investigate. She found Dobie standing at the sink, filling a glass with tap water, his battered hat pushed to the back of his head and hay chafe clinging to his sweaty skin.

"What are you doing here?" She glanced at the wall clock. "It isn't even lunchtime yet. Did something break down?"

He shook his head briefly, then drank down the water in the glass and turned back to the sink to refill it. "I saw the car leave. I thought maybe you'd gone off somewhere again." Suspicion was heavy in his tone.

"Ben took Eden to her swimming lesson. Afterward, he's taking her out for a hamburger and french fries, so they won't be back for lunch." It had been her suggestion. She hadn't wanted Eden anywhere around this noon.

"You could have fixed some here just as easy. And it'd been a lot cheaper, too."

Irritated by his niggardly remark, Abbie nearly told him that Ben was paying for the treat, but she checked the impulse. She didn't want to get sidetracked into a meaningless argument with him over money.

"We need to talk, Dobie."

"About what?"

"Us. Our marriage. It isn't working out," It was ironic. She'd been through this before. She wondered why this moment wasn't any easier the second time.

"You seemed satisfied until Wilder showed up."

She didn't try to deny that. "Maybe I thought things would change—that we just needed more time. But it hasn't worked, not from the beginning. You have to admit, Dobie, that I haven't been the kind of wife you wanted. . . someone who stays home, who's waiting here when you come in from the fields every night."

"Have I complained? I let you have your horses, and go traipsing all over the country—"

"Dobie, stop." She wasn't going to let this turn into one of their typical arguments. "Please, all I want is a divorce. Believe me, it will be better for both of us."

"It's Wilder, isn't it?" Dobie accused, his jaw clenched tightly. "You've been sneaking around and meeting him behind my back, haven't you? You want a divorce so you can marry him. That's it, isn't it?

In a way, everything he said was true. Only none of it was the way he thought. "I love him," she admitted simply, quietly.

For an instant, he just stared at her, his eyes wide, his expression raw with pain. Then he swung around abruptly, facing the sink and gripping the edge of it, his head bowed and his shoulders hunched forward. Seeing him like that, Abbie wanted to cry, but she determinedly blinked back the tears.

"Dammit, Abbie," he said, his voice low and half-strangled by his attempt to control it, "I love you too. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Of course, it does. Why do you think this is so hard for me? I never meant to hurt you, Dobie. You don't know how many times I wished there was some other way."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"Because. . . it's the right thing to do, the fair thing."

"Fair for who?" He turned back to look at her, his eyes reddened with tears. "For you? For Wilder? What about me and Edie?

Abbie glanced away, unable to meet his gaze. "We need to talk about Eden. I know how much you love her—"

"What do you expect? She's my daughter."

Mutely she shook her head, finding it almost impossible to say the words. But no matter how much it hurt him, she couldn't hide the truth any longer. "No, Dobie, she isn't."

"What?"

With difficulty, Abbie forced herself to look at him. "Eden isn't your daughter. I was already pregnant with her when we made love that first time."

"You're lying."

"Not this time. I wanted my baby to have a father and I knew you would be a good one. And you have been. It was wrong of me to deceive you like that, I know, but—"

"If I'm not her father, then who is?" Dobie demanded, still doubting. "Not Wilder—"

"Yes."

"But you can't prove it. And you can't expect me just to take your word for it."

"Look at the way her little fingers curl—MacCrea has one like it. I've never seen such a thing before. It's a Wilder family trait."

"My God." He whitened. "All these years. . ."

"I'm sorry," Abbie said. "More than you'll ever know."

When Abbie tried to reach MacCrea at his office, she was told he was at River Bend, meeting with Lane Canfield. There was a moment when she almost decided not to call him at all, but she needed to talk to him. Tense and anxious, she dialed the number.

Rachel answered the phone. Abbie recognized her voice instantly and had to fight the urge to hang up. "I'd like to speak to MacCrea Wilder, please. I was told he was there."

"Who's calling?"

Abbie clutched the receiver a little tighter. "It's Abbie. I need to speak to him. It's important."

"I'm sorry. He's in a meeting."

"I know that," she inserted quickly, fearing that Rachel would hang up on her. "Just tell him I'm on the phone."

There was no response for several long seconds. Then there was a dull clunk, but the line didn't go dead. Abbie could hear faint noises in the background, then distantly MacCrea's voice saying, "Abbie? Of course, I'll take it." A second later, there was a click and he was on the line.

"I'm sorry I called you there, but. . . I had to talk to you."

"Don't worry about that. Just tell me what's wrong. I can tell something is."

"I told Dobie this morning that I wanted a divorce. He knew right away that you were involved."

"What about Eden?"

"I told him you were her father, not him."

"And?"

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "And he walked out of the house. He hasn't come back. I don't know where he went."

"Where are you now?"

"At Ben's house. We're going to stay here."

"Eden's with you?"

"Yes. She's in the living room, playing checkers with Ben." She glanced at the two heads, one gray and one dark, huddled over the checkerboard on the coffee table.

"I'll be right there."

"Mac, no. You can't. It will only make things worse if Dobie finds you here when he comes back."

"Dammit, Abbie, you can't stay there."

"We have to. . . at least until we can find somewhere to take the mares and colts. I probably should have waited and talked to Dobie after we had found other facilities for the horses." When she thought of all the time and money she'd spent building her breeding farm there, she wished she had postponed her discussion with Dobie.

"I've got that handled. You can keep them at my place. I want you to throw some things in a suitcase, get Eden and Ben, and meet me over there in a half hour."

"But—"

"Abbie, don't argue with my. I don't want to take the chance that anything might happen to you. . . or Eden. If I can't come there, then you're going to come stay with me. Agreed?"

Abbie hesitated, then realized that if Dobie did cause a scene when he returned, it would be better if Eden didn't see it. She and Ben could always come back to take care of the horses. "Yes."

"Good. I'll see you there in half an hour. And, Abbie—"

"Yes?"

"I love you.”

She felt the tears come. "I love you, too, Mac." And she loved him even more because he wasn't going to let her go through this alone. She continued to hold the phone to her ear after MacCrea had hung up, unwilling to let go of the closeness she had felt between them. She heard a second click, breaking the connection. Someone had been listening in. Abbie stared at the phone. That person had to have been Rachel.

After carefully replacing the telephone receiver in its cradle, Rachel turned to face the pocket doors to the library, and listened to the muffled voices of Lane and MacCrea coming from within. As the doors were slid apart, MacCrea stepped out and Rachel moved away from the telephone in the foyer.

"Leaving already, MacCrea?" she taunted, irritated at the way he was rushing to Abbie's side. Then she smiled sweetly at Lane, coming behind him. "I'll see him to the door, darling."

"Thank you. I do have some calls to make." Lane paused to shake hands with MacCrea. "I'll be getting back to you in the next week or so—after I've had a chance to review everything."

"I'll be waiting to hear from you. If you have any questions, just call." Then MacCrea turned, his glance briefly pausing on Rachel.

Smoothly, she slipped her arm into the crook of his and started walking him across the tiled foyer to the front door, waiting until she heard the retreat of Lane's footsteps before saying anything. "So. You've gotten yourself involved with Abbie again."

"That's my business, Rachel."

"You're a fool, MacCrea" she declared, releasing a sigh of disgust. "She only wants your money. Surely you can see that. You know as well as I do that she's determined to establish a stud farm that will rival River Bend. But that husband of hers won't give her the money to do it, so she's picked you."

"I'd be careful about pointing fingers if I were you, Rachel." MacCrea unhooked his arm from hers and reached for the solid brass doorknob. "Because every time you do, the other three fingers point back at yourself."

Stung by that complacent, knowing look in his dark eyes, Rachel drew back to glare at him. "I hope you remember that I tried to warn you." But he was already out the door, closing it in her face.

Abbie was waiting in the shade of the deck when MacCrea pulled into the driveway and parked his car next to hers. As she watched him come striding up the walk, indifferent to the broiling heat and stifling humidity of the East Texas summer afternoon, she felt some of her anxieties slipping away. He looked so strong and vital, so capable of handling any situation, that she finally really believed that everything was going to be all right. It was crazy when she thought about it. She had always prided herself on being independent, not needing anyone. Now she found herself wanting to lean on someone. Not just someone; she qualified that quickly in her mind. She wanted to lean on MacCrea.