I fall back against a crate with a broken sigh of misery. He’s going to take care of me, he says, but what will it cost me in return?
Nothing in life is free.
CHAPTER 2
MARA
The rideto the doctor’s home is almost as bumpy as it was away from town, and even though I don’t really want to be back in Hope’s Stand, I can’t deny my relief when the wagon stops. Warren tried to get me to sit up front with him, but that would have meant sitting beside him. Probably touching him at times.
Like he’s trying to do now.
Ugh…men.
Always wanting to put their hands all over me.
“Don’t touch me!” I slap at Warren as he reaches for me. I stink, my dress and legs are wet, I’m in pain, and the last thing I want is to be touched. Part of me even wonders if this will all be just a waste of time once the doctor sees who his patient is. “I can get out by myself.”
He pushes his hat higher on his head as he flattens his lips. “Sweetheart, you need some help.”
“Don’t call me that,” I retort. “My name’s Mara.” Slowly swinging my legs over the side of the wagon, I inch down. I can’t see my feet, though, and I slip over the cobblestones. “Oof!”
Strong arms catch me, and the scent of man and horse fills my nose. “I’ve got you, Mara darlin’. Just hang on.”
“Put me down!” I should have saved my breath for the fresh wave of pain that has me gritting my teeth and clutching my straining belly.
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna let you fall.” Warren tightens his arms even further, holding me all too close to his chest. It’s not until I see how high I am from the ground that I realize his height. Even so, falling is the least of my worries. Since I know there is no chance of walking on my own, I reluctantly surrender and focus on my breathing, releasing short, quick puffs as I’m carried through the gate.
Warren nods ahead. “Abner, knock at the door, would you?”
With a grunt, the boy stretches on tiptoe to clap the brass knocker and chuckles when it falls with a clank. A housekeeper with a white cap soon opens the heavy door, and before she can even utter a greeting, Warren blurts, “Jolene, where’s Doctor Smith? We need him mighty bad.”
“I’m sorry, Warren,” Jolene apologizes. “He’s not in.”
“What do you mean, not in?” At the frustration in his voice and arms, I tense even more than I already am. Men are unpredictable when they’re upset, and unpredictable men are dangerous.
“He’s not here at all. Doctor Smith took the train for Chicago a few hours ago and won’t return for at least four weeks.”
Bitterness pulls my lips down in a wry smile at the wary look she gives my bulging belly. I knew it. More like the good doctor doesn’t treat people like me. But to my surprise, the woman pulls the door wider. “Mrs. Smith is available, though,” she adds as she gestures us inside with a hurriedwave, “because she didn’t want to go to the fair. Come in, and I’ll tell her you’re here.”
Warren swings us sideways through the doorway and comes to a stop by a walnut grandfather clock that dominates the fancy parlor.
“Put me down. We’re inside now and I can walk just fine.” Struggling only results in my cheek being pressed even closer to his chest. I like this even less…this forced awkward intimacy from this stranger’s heart steadily ticking in my ear.
“Just a little longer, Mara,” he says, light brown eyes running over my face. “I swear it’s all gonna be okay.”
“Why?” I ask listlessly. “What do you think you’re getting from this? I’m neither in the condition nor of the inclination to repay you for your efforts.”
One eyebrow crooks upward. Is the damnably handsome man surprised I saw through his ruse? Anyone with half a mind could.
“I get the satisfaction of knowing my hand was the one extended to a woman who needed it.”
Jolene breaks in with a soft cough. “Is she...did you—oh, there you are, Mrs. Smith.” The housekeeper drops a small curtsy to the small white-haired woman entering the room just as the clock strikes three quarters past the hour. “Warren’s here with—I didn’t catch your name, dear. I apologize.”
“Mara,” Warren answers for me, running those damn eyes of his over me again. “Her name’s Mara.”
Oh. So hecanremember to call me something other than sweetheart or darling.
“And she’s gonna have a young’un,” Abner interjects helpfully from somewhere below me. “Any second now. Thought she’d near ‘bout have it in the road, what with her bellerin’ on the way here and all.”
