His hands contracted. “A baby shouldn’t be made like that,” he said huskily. “Not as a consequence. It should be planned. Wanted. God in heaven, why didn’t I stop?”
He let go of her all at once, and turned, leaving the kitchen like a wild man. He sounded bitter and furiously angry. Probably he hated her. She couldn’t blame him for that. He might even think she’d deliberately done without precautions to trap him into a marriage he didn’t want. Tears stung her eyes. All the same, he’d been worried that she might hate him, and that gave her a little solace. She finished her tea, emptied the pot and cleaned it, washed the few dishes and went back up to sit with Dwight.
Chapter Nine
The next day, Allison went outside for the first time since she’d been in residence, to clear her head while Marie spent a few minutes with her brother.
It was a beautiful day, warm and sultry, and there was so much to see. Puppies and kittens, ducks and chickens were everywhere, not to mention the bulls and cows and steers and horses. Corrals were spaced beyond the house and its small kitchen garden, down a dirt road. She strolled along in her jeans and yellow T-shirt with her long hair drifting on the breeze. Even with all that had happened, she loved it here. But she knew her stay was limited—she had to think about leaving.
She’d been given some time off to cope with her parents’ death, and avoid the press, but soon she’d have to go back to work. It was a good thing that she’d face that problem in Arizona and not here, because there was a morals clause in her contract. But nobody knew, she reminded herself. Nobody knew except Gene and herself.
She was worrying about Gene’s sudden avoidance of her today when a voice hailed her from the corral.
She turned, frowning, to find a lean, wickedly smiling redheaded cowhand leaning against the fence. His eyes gave her a lazy appraisal and there was something vaguely insulting about the blatant way he sized her up.
“Miss Hathoway, isn’t it?” he drawled. “Thought I recognized you.”
She started. Recognized her? “Were you at the barbecue?” she asked, trying to be polite.
The man laughed, weaving a little as he pushed himself away from the fence. He approached her and she could smell the whiskey on his breath. “No, I don’t get invited to that sort of socializing. I meant, I recognized you from the other night. In the line cabin. You were there with the boss.”
Her face went stark white. She was quite literally at a loss for words.
He laughed unsteadily, moving closer, but she backed away before he could reach for her. That had obviously been his intention, because he looked surprised that she avoided his outstretched hands.
“No stomach for a common ranch hand, is that it?” he jeered. “You were hot enough for the boss. Of course, he’s got money.”
“Please!” she cried huskily, scarlet in the face that she and Gene should have been seen—like that!
“The boss won’t have much to do with you these days, though, will he, Miss High and Mighty?” he taunted. “I heard what he said. Mad as hell that you were a virgin, wasn’t he? Not his usual kind of woman, for sure, he likes ’em worldly. Now me,” he said, stalking her again, smiling, “I like innocents. I’d take my sweet time with you, pretty thing, and you wouldn’t be looking like the end of the world afterward. He must have been in one hell of a rush. You weren’t in there ten minutes.”
Allison put her hand to her mouth and turned, running wildly for the house with tears in her eyes. She didn’t know what to do. It terrified her that the cowboy might tell someone else what he knew. At least he hadn’t seen them, or she knew he’d have taunted her with that, too. But he knew! He’d overheard what Gene said! And now he’d spread that horrible gossip around. She could imagine having her name bandied around the bunkhouse all night. And that wasn’t the worst of it. What if it got around the community? Her reputation would be lost forever and her job along with it. The least breath of scandal attached to her name would cost her everything. She hadn’t considered the potential for disaster, but now all her mistakes were coming home to roost.
She went back into the house and stayed there, taking a few minutes in her room to wash her face and get her nerves back together before she went to Dwight’s room to check on him. It was almost time for his medicine.
If she’d hoped nobody would notice her turmoil, she was doomed to failure.
“What’s wrong?” Winnie asked, concerned. “Allie, you’re so pale!”
The temptation to tell her friend was great, but it wouldn’t be fair to share the burden now. Winnie had enough to worry about with Dwight. She forced a smile. “I feel a little queasy,” she said. “I think it was the sausage I had for breakfast. I love it, but sometimes it upsets my stomach.”
“Tomorrow, you’ll have steak,” Dwight said with a weak smile. “I promise. Tell Gene to shoot you a cow.”
She started just at the mention of Gene’s name. How could she face him, ever, after what that terrible man had said? How would he react if he knew one of his men was making crude remarks to her?
