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She was everything Elijah did not want. Her hands fluttered to her stomach and her heart clenched in pain.
Oh, Elijah, I’m so sorry for your pain.
Chapter Ten
Another vase with rose was resting on the small table by Elijah’s bedside. His damn room was starting to smell and look like a garden. Since their night of poker, though he had won four rounds out of the six they had played, he had been at Sheridan’s table for dinner the last few nights. Though he was careful not to repeat the intimate seclusion they had shared in the parlor, last night, he had almost caved and went to her room, simply because he had stayed in the shadows of the front porch and watched her waltzing by herself under the stars. With a grunt, he strolled toward the library. A sharp piercing cry rent the air, he faltered and swung his head in the direction of the living area. He went inside and walked over to the cot where a baby lay, fists and hands pumping in the air and wailing from a too healthy pair of lungs.
His gut clenched. He had avoided the baby with a ruthless will, not truly acknowledging the dread of seeing a child that would remind him of his son in so tangible a form. The wail got louder, and after taking a deep bracing breath, Elijah shifted the baby’s blanket, reached to pick him up and froze.
Ah Christ.
He was looking at a Kincaid. Deep inside he hadn’t really believed it. He lifted the baby to his face, eyes the replica of his stared at him curiously. His heart itched. The crying stopped and gentle hiccups slipped from his lips. He forced himself to be detached, twisting the child, looking at the back of his knee, and then elbows. He observed the crescent shaped birthmark on the back of his left elbow and studied the rest of his features. Dark blonde hair and forest green eyes, slightly cleft chin. Hell.
The room faded away, and strings of joyous gurgling filtered on the air as images of his son filled his memories. They were good memories, and he was grateful they were not the echoes of his nightmares. The door was wrenched opened bringing everything back into focus and Beth bustled. “Oh.” She drew up sharply when she spied him.
Expressions chased across her face too swiftly for him to place them. She squared her shoulders and hurried over giving him a wobbly smile. “I am sorry if he disturbed you, Elijah. I was warming his bottle.”
He carefully handed her the baby and watched as she bustled with him towards the sofa. “I wasn’t disturbed. He is a beautiful baby.”
She looked at him with suspicious eyes.
He worked to disguise the shock from his voice. “He’s your son?”
“Yes.” She gave him a tentative smile.
He noted the guardedness. There was no way to hide that Grayson belonged to his brother. Dark hair and green eyes. He even had the crescent birthmark in the same spot as Joshua. He could easily see how Sheridan had concluded he was a Kincaid. The boy possessed nothing of Beth. Elijah prayed he was mistaken. He hung onto that reasoning rather too quickly. He doubted his brother was the only man in Wyoming to have such hair coloring and eyes. “Where is his father?”
Something akin to fear flashed in the depths of her eyes. “He has no father.” She took a deep breath. “Forgive me for being short.”
He smiled, hoping to relax her. “Your husband does not claim him?”
“I...I...” she broke off seemingly at loss how to explain.
When she seemed to make up her mind, she gave him a faint disarming smile. “Nothing of the sort. I haven’t seen my husband in almost two years. I only meant he has no father in his life.”
The baby fussed and she surged to her feet. “It is time for his walk, if you will excuse me.”
He watched the slow blush that covered her face in fascination. “Stay in view of the main house.”
Her head bobbed as she bustled out of the room, obviously wanting to escape his presence. He let her go, his mind churning with the possibilities.
The housekeeper approached him and handed him a note. Elijah opened it and looked at it blankly.
Meet me on the range overlooking the eastern section of the ranch. I have your Winchester.
He would blister Sheridan’s backside when he saw her. Of all the reckless fool-hardy things for her to do. He considered sending Tom or another ranch hand after her. But the stubborn hellion was not going listen to them, and they wouldn’t put their hands on her when she resisted. Elijah had expressly told her to stay within view of the main house.
Elijah wasted no time exiting the house. He collected his Spencer and hunting knife and headed to the barn. With questions swirling in his brain he saddled his Palomino stallion with swift efficiency. He launched onto his back and rode to where Sheridan should be. He had not ridden long when he spotted a splash of yellow. She reclined under a large oak tree as if asleep.
He dismounted and dropped the reins, leaving his horse to roam the range freely.
One eye peeked open and she gave him a lazy smile and sat up. “I was beginning to think that you would not come.”
He glanced around the setting. A tablecloth spread on the grass, a carafe of wine, and glasses. Bread, cheese, roasted chicken and an apple pie were also present. But it was the creamy swell of her shoulders, the arch of her neck and the need in her eyes that had his mouth watering. “What is this, Sheridan?”
“I thought we could have a picnic and talk.”
He glanced around the prairie assessing how secluded they were from everyone. “I am going to tan your backside.”
