“I gave you both my word. ‘Sides, I’m gonna like being a papa to her. I think she’s hungry,” Warren says not so helpfully as her eyes and nose scrunch together in preparation of another cry.
My eyes roll before I can help it. “I know.” Sighing, I balance her on my lap and reach up to unfasten my buttons, casting a wary glance at him.
“You’re going to feed her here?” he asks over the noise.
Heaven help me. It’s not an ideal place for privacy, not with being in the open and rubbing shoulders with him, but a baby has to eat. “Are you going to be the one to tell her she has to wait until we get to your house?”
By the smile that splits his face, you’d never have guessed I’d snapped at him just now. “Our house, you mean, and of course not. Here, I’ll hold her while you get ready.”
“No—” Maternal instinct sounding the alarm, I forget the gaping material and reach for her, but she’s already cradled in Warren’s arms. I know he held her this morning without asking, but that was before I was thinking clearly.
“Hey now, Emmaline.” He grabs her little hand in his and raises his voice to a ridiculous pitch. “You’re gonna eat, I promise, but you gotta be patient. We won’t let you go hungry, Little Bit.”
“We?” The sarcasm is heavily loaded in the single word.
His eyes fly to my chest, and his tanned cheeks darken as he stammers, “I mean...you know. I was just...well…”
Suddenly, he reminds me of a puppy. A big, overgrown puppy whose feelings might get hurt if I keep going. Maybe there’s a bit of niceness in me after all as I skip poking fun at him and reach for Emmaline instead. “Let me have her now.”
“Oh. Right,” he blurts out as he reluctantly hands her over. “Will you be okay if we get going again?”
I hardly hear him as I focus on guiding a small mouth to my nipple, but I belatedly murmur ayes,transfixed at the way Emmaline’s eyes flutter as she feeds. The tightness in my breast is relieved even as cramps knot my stomach.
Tears collect and sting my nose as I discreetly sniff them back. Christ, how could I have ever not wanted to hold her? She’s perfect, even with the mark on her hand. And she has my eyes, too, instead of her father’s dark ones. I hope they stay this way.
One of the horses neighs. Why haven’t we moved? Warren’s hands tightly grasp the reins, but his attention isn’t on the road.
It’s on me.
On my exposed breast.
A bitter smile forms, and my small bit of fragile happiness dwindles. Typical man.
“Sorry,” he says hoarsely before clearing his throat. “Giddup.” The surrey jolts as the horses move.
A tumult of conflicting emotions rushes over me as we press on to his house in silence. One thing’s for certain—I could never imagine any of the men I know talking nonsense to a baby, let alone holding one as comfortably as he did. Maybe he really is a “good boy” like Mrs. Smith said. And that’s all well and good as long as he keeps his cock in his pants. But good boy or not, his eyes still linger on me every so often as I nurse.
By the time Emmaline’s belly is full and my buttons are refastened, we’ve turned onto a smaller path that winds down to a house still a distance away. Warren nods proudly. “This is it. Home sweet home.”
I don’t say anything as I take in the sight of rolling pasture leading up to the house. As we draw closer, I’m secretly in awe at the cream-colored house with a red slate roof. It’s not as fancy as the one we just left, but it’s a damn sight better than some of the places I’ve lived. And in the flowerbeds on either side of the porch steps? Deep gold and orange and red chrysanthemums basking in the fall sunshine. I don’t know whether to dare take hope in this or not.
Maybe it’s good not to take hope just yet, because when I see the barn and the bunkhouse, a niggling suspicion creeps over my shoulders and into my head. “Are you the only one who lives here?” I watch him intently for any sign of deceit, but his broad shoulders stay relaxed.
“Just me. And now you two,” he says easily.
“Any...visitors?” Of the male variety, specifically.
“Just family. My parents and Jed, but he hasn’t been to see me since he married Dove. Occasionally”—did he just shudder?—“Old Widow Hester when she’s feeling lonely. Oh, and there’ll be a few ranch hands coming to help out around the farm, but they’ll be keeping their distance and sleeping in the bunkhouse. I promised you only one man, Mara. Only me.”
Only him.
One devil instead of many. I suppose I should be grateful.
When the horses obediently stop at the steps, Warren jumps down and wraps the reins around a porch post. “Give me just one second and I’ll help you.”
“I can do it,” I protest as I try to judge the distance from here to the ground.
“Mara.” The warning look he gives me from underneath his hat stops me from scooting another inch. “You just gave birth not even twenty-four hours ago, and you have a mite of a baby in your arms. All it takes is one misstep for the both of you to tumble and hurt yourselves. Please, just let me help you.” Then a faint grin covers his lips. “Besides, if you get hurt, I’ll likely have to touch you even more to bandage you all up and make sure you’re okay.”
