“Take a bit more, if you’re able,” he whispered, with gentle insistence.
The reality of my depleted and ragged physical form retreated to a space at the back of my mind as Cole surrendered Monty to my embrace. With only a little difficulty, I freed my left breast from the damp confines of my tattered, sour-smelling blouse; the shock of the baby’s hard gums upon my tender nipples had long since receded, becoming tolerable pain. Monty latched hold with no trouble, as he had from the first, and proceeded to gulp with noisy contentment, the side of his small, soft face melting into my overheated skin as though we were one entity rather than two. I lowered my head to an outstretched arm.
“I am so sorry for this hard travel, love. We’ll reach the town by tomorrow.” Cole eased full-length alongside us, bracketing my waist with one hand. The light had shifted with advancing day, allowing me to perceive his features in the gloom of the wagon. To claim I did not love Cole would be yet another lie. I could not deny my love for him any more than I could deny Axton’s presence in my innermost heart. The distinction was something I sensed at a level comparable only to instinct; I loved Cole, had made love with him, taken his body within mine and his seed into my womb, and yet the idea of spending the remainder of my life as his wife was a quiet resignation rather than a rejoicing.
No matter; the choice was no longer within my ability to make. I was determined to love Cole Montgomery Spicer as he deserved to be loved. And yet – dear God, forgive me though I do not deserve forgiveness – I wanted that sacred, indefinable thing which my dear Ruthann shared with Marshall Rawley. How did one person become the one, the only one, for another? To the point that all others, no matter how well-meaning or desirable, fell short, unable to compete with that one. It seemed a notion both insensible and childish; a little girl’s dream with no basis in reality.
But I knew.
When you know, you just know, Axton had whispered before he rode away from me for the first time, last summer at Grant Rawley’s homestead; even then we possessed no certainty regarding when we would next meet. And I know you are for me, Patricia.
I would tear myself innards-out to understand. I could not reach a satisfactory explanation; the truth defied logic. The undeniable certainty of Axton Douglas. Deep in the night, awakening from dreams of him, I lay steeped in memories of the moments I had shared with Axton before my own choices separated us. I blamed no one but myself. I had been the one whose desire to understand lovemaking overrode sensibility – and I had wanted Cole that clear, yellow autumn afternoon, only hours before Miles Rawley was shot and killed in the dooryard of his brother’s homestead.
Cole had asked me to marry him, both of us knowing full well I was already wed to Dredd Yancy. His eyes burned with sincerity as we stared at one another, our bodies seeming to bob in a wide, silent sea. Before I could formulate a response, Cole anchored my waist in his strong hands and drew me near, bending to tease my lips and neck with his tongue; it seemed only natural when he began unlacing my dress with practiced fingers.
I had offered acquiescence with one small word, clutching his shirt in both fists.
We made love three times in quick succession, as bright day faded to soft gray evening, hidden there in the confines of the bunkhouse on Grant’s property. Cole’s hands knew where to go; his mouth was hot upon my flesh. My body had responded to his touch in unexpected quickening bursts of both pleasure and keen-edged guilt; for even in those moments when I closed my eyes I could not help but imagine it was Axton whose body I wrapped my limbs around.
Desire became a heavy, complicated knot, its skeins cinching my heart with no regard for mercy. It wasn’t until months later I became aware a child was conceived that afternoon, Cole’s child, eradicating forever the possibility that Axton would not only continue to want me after I had been with Cole, but would be capable of forgiving me.
Whore, I thought. You are an unforgivable, shameless whore.
I refused to shy from the truth. At the very least I could be honest with myself.
In the next second recriminations flooded my mind.
Stop this. Your son is drawing sustenance from your body.
You cannot think such terrible things.
But I am a whore. I am married and have birthed another man’s child. And if I could, I would turn my back on both and find Axton.
Even your son?
No.
Oh dear God, no. I would never leave my son.
Unaware of the dark quagmire of my thoughts, Cole stroked hair from my temple as he continued speaking. “I’ll find us a room, with a bed and a basin. And I’ll see to it that you’re cared for by a physician.”
Fannie Rawley had cared for me as tenderly as any healer during the time we spent at their home; how I had longed to remain under her reassuring eye, but we could not continue to endanger them any more than we could seek refuge with Cole’s married sister, who lived with her husband, Quinlan Rawley, on a homestead near Fannie and Charley. Something not quite human – the only way I could reconcile Fallon Yancy’s existence –was perhaps already on our trail. We could take no chances. Never mind the danger of loathsome criminals such as Aemon Turnbull or the man known simply as Vole; the threat of Fallon’s sudden appearance overpowered all others. If not tailing us, he was in pursuit of Ruthann.
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