The Bad Luck Wedding Dress (34 page)

In all seriousness, Jenny said, “Don’t get too carried away. I’m afraid if we make love tonight we’ll need to be somewhat inventive.”

Trace froze. “Did Big Jack hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine now. I wasn’t so sure earlier, though, and that’s why you found me lying down.”

“Talk to me,” he demanded.

Jenny wanted to bite her tongue. She’d made a muddle of it, that was certain. “I didn’t want it to be like this. Actually, I had almost decided to wait until Christmas. Remember I promised you that gift?”

“Jenny,” he warned, looming over her. She sighed. “Oh, all right. But you have to lie down. It seems more appropriate.” He growled with frustration but rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him as she had requested. Jenny lifted her head and grinned down at his long-suffering expression as she added, “After all, it’s the lying down that got me into this trouble to begin with.”

“What trouble!”

“Apron trouble.”

“Apron trouble?”

“As in riding high. My apron’s riding high.”

His body stiffened. His eyes went wide. “Jenny? Are you… ?”

“In a family way,” she finished, her smile going wide. “Congratulations, Daddy. Perhaps it’ll be a boy this time.”

His hold on her gentled. “A baby? You and me?”

“You and me and Emma and Maribeth and Katrina.”

“A baby.” Wonder filled his tone and myriad emotions crossed his face—tenderness, happiness, pride. And love. So much love it brought tears to her eyes.

“Ah, treasure, you don’t know how much this means to me.”

“I know how much it means to me,” she softly replied.

“God, I love you. Thank you, sweetheart.” He pulled her head down to his.

Joy sang in Jenny’s veins as she basked in the sweet sensation of her husband’s kiss. It went on and on and on. More than a sharing of passion, this kiss was a uniting. It was as if a barrier between them had fallen, and only with its loss did she recognize it once had existed.

In the past, Trace had offered her his home, his family, and his desire. But tonight he offered her his love. He offered her himself.

Her heart overflowed. This was a sharing so beautiful, so fulfilling, she wept with the wonder of it and Trace kissed the tears away.

“Don’t cry, baby. It hurts to see you cry.” He brushed her hair off her forehead and said in a teasing tone, “Besides, I have enough salt on me now to keep a whole herd of deer happy through the winter.”

She went along with his effort to lighten the mood by slapping playfully at his chest and saying, “You’ve told me before that my tears were sweet.”

“I lied. They’re as salty as your temper.”

“You keep talking like that and you’ll get a taste of my temper, McBride. You should have seen what I did to Big Jack Bailey.”

As the joking light in his eyes died, Jenny wished she’d never mention Big Jack. “Trace, don’t—”

“Tell me the whole story. Everything from how Bailey got his hands on you to why I walked in on what I walked in on.”

“You didn’t walk in on anything,” she peevishly replied.

“Jenny,” he warned. “Start at the beginning and tell me everything that happened.”

And so she did. At times she thought he’d explode with anger. Other moments he grew so quiet and still she’d have thought he’d gone to sleep if she didn’t know better. Only once did he interrupt, at the first mention of her backache and her fear she’d lose the baby. He tried to get out of bed, saying, “I’ll be back with the doctor in a couple of hours.”

“Wait, Trace. I believe there is a good chance Bailey will send the doctor our way.”

“Why do you think that?”

She told him about the threats she’d made against Big Jack’s new grandson. “Damn, honey. That was some pretty smart thinking.”

“I’m ashamed at the idea, but I did what needed doing to protect my family.”

Trace grimaced. “You did better than me, I’m afraid. I ran across Bailey on the way out here, and I’m afraid I didn’t leave him in much shape for fetching a doctor.” At Jenny’s questioning look, he added, “I pretty much beat the tar out of him.”

“Oh.” She knew a niggle of shame over feeling great satisfaction at such knowledge.

“I’d best go for the doctor.” Trace again made to leave.

She shook her head and insisted, “Not for me. If Tye needs a physician, fine. But I’m all right, now, I promise. I won’t take any risks with this baby.” Her lips twitched with a flustered smile as she added, “That’s why I said we’d need to get inventive with our lovemaking.”

“I won’t touch you till he’s born,” he swore.

“Let’s not go overboard,” she replied, frowning. “I’m certain there are ways. You must know something about this. After all, you went through this three times with Constance.”

“I don’t want to talk about Constance.”

Jenny squeezed his hand. “I think perhaps we should.”

“No. I see no reason. That’s the past, Jenny. Leave it there.”

She rested her head on his chest. “The past is asleep in the other room of this cabin. Your brother and I talked about what happened while we were resting. He told me some things I doubt you know; some things I think you should be aware of.”

“Ah, hell, Jenny.”

She wouldn’t be dissuaded. She told him most of the story Tye had told her—of Constance and her lies, of the inheritance, and how Lord Howard had contributed to Tye’s downfall. “He hates what he did, Trace. He’s sorry for it, and he wants your forgiveness. When he first arrived at Willow Hill, Tye told me he hoped for a reconciliation between you two. I still believe that’s true. He hasn’t come to take Katrina away from us. He wants you and all the girls to be part of his family once again.”

“Forgiveness, huh?” Trace snorted. “He doesn’t ask for much, does he?”

“He’s your brother, Trace. Your twin.”

“He’s Katrina’s true father!”

She wasn’t surprised by the sudden savagery in his voice but by the words themselves. She would have expected him to condemn his brother for bedding his wife. Instead, his first thoughts were of Katrina.

And that, she realized, was the offense he could not forgive.

“It isn’t his sin, you know. Tye isn’t responsible for keeping the truth about Katrina from you. Constance did that. Tye didn’t know about her until after she was born.”

He shifted his gaze away from her.

Jenny reached up and turned his chin, gently demanding his attention. When finally his eyes refocused on hers, she said, “Blame him for being intimate with your wife, but don’t hold him responsible for the fact you took Kat into your heart before you learned his seed, not yours, gave her life.”

His jaw hardened, and she could see he didn’t like what she’d said. But he’d heard it, and for now, that was enough.

If you find a penny, pick it up and put it in your left shoe for good luck.

CHAPTER 21

DAWN BROKE IN FIERY splendor on a crystalline sky as Trace, Jenny, and Tye prepared to depart the cabin. Telling himself he preferred the cut of cold air to the idea of having his wife exposed to Tye’s bare chest any longer, Trace gave his brother his own coat before making a pallet for him in the bed of the wagon.

Next order of business was to extract a promise from Jenny to inform him at the first sign of any ache or pain connected with the baby. “Hunger pains don’t count,” he grumbled when she voiced the matter for the tenth time since awakening. “Y’all finished the last of the canned goods.”

“Isn’t there
anything
else I could eat?”

“Good Lord, Jen, didn’t your mother teach you never to ask that question of a man?” As color stained her cheeks, he added, “No, of course not. Your mother is Monique Day.”

He herded her outside and up into the wagon. She didn’t say another word about being hungry, not even when her stomach let out a growl loud enough to frighten the horses. Trace swallowed a laugh and flicked the reins, and the horses broke into a trot.

They spotted the doctor’s buggy halfway to Fort Worth. “Either I didn’t hit Bailey as hard as I thought, or you scared him more than you knew, Jenny,” Trace observed. He stopped the buckboard, and the physician made a brief examination of Tye’s shoulder, then listened intently as Jenny quietly outlined her symptoms.

Trace watched nervously as the doctor stroked his beard and frowned. He moved closer to overhear the conversation. “If you’re no longer experiencing pain, Mrs. McBride, I doubt this bumpy road will cause any ill effects,” the doctor said. “I’ll follow you, and once I get Mr. McBride taken care of, we can discuss your symptoms in greater depth.”

Trace’s heart was lighter after that, and he even spoke directly to his brother twice during the second leg of the trip. Within two hours of leaving the cabin, they passed the outlying structures of the city of Fort Worth.

Trace didn’t turn at the intersection that would lead to the Rankin Building where Tye had spent the night before last. When Jenny gave him a curious look, he shrugged. “It’ll make the doctor’s job easier if you’re both in the same place. Don’t make it out to be any more than it is, Jenny.”

“Whatever you say, dear.”

He glowered in answer to her smug, knowing smile.

The wagon rattled its way up Willow Hill, and by the time he pulled to a stop in front of the house, his daughters came flying out the front door. Maribeth and Katrina launched themselves at Jenny, hugging and kissing and laughing with delight. Emma hung back from the boisterous welcome, her complexion pale and her eyes watery. Trace wondered what was the matter. This wasn’t like his eldest daughter at all. He decided that as soon as he saw his wife and brother settled, he’d have a talk with Emma.

A masculine, emotional clearing of the throat attracted his attention to the front porch where he was surprised to see Jenny’s mother clinging to a man who could be none other than Richard Fortune.

The expression on both parents’ faces clearly revealed the love they felt for their daughter. For the first time since he’d know her, Monique looked her age. How she’d known of the danger stalking her daughter, Trace didn’t know, but the worries of the night were etched across her face. Richard Fortune, his complexion pale, the hand holding his wife betraying the slightest tremble, drank in the sight of his daughter. Jenny has his eyes, Trace thought.

“Honey?” Trace said softly. “Jenny, look.”

She glanced up at him. “At what?”

“The house. We have visitors.”

She swung her head around and gasped. “Mother? Richard?”

Then Monique was running down the steps, Jenny’s father hurrying after her. “She’s safe!” she cried. “Oh, Richard, she’s safe.”

Trace restrained his daughters from joining in when Jenny’s parents swallowed her in an embrace. He watched closely to make certain they didn’t unknowingly cause her or the baby harm.

Puzzlement colored Jenny’s voice. “What’s going on? How did you know about the trouble? Did someone telegraph you, Monique? Were you visiting Mother in Dallas, Papa?”

Richard Fortune’s voice was gruff with emotion. “I came for your wedding, and stopped by Monique’s on the way, thinking we might all spend Christmas together.”

“My wedding!”

Monique gave her daughter another quick, fierce hug then stepped away. “My telegram said three weeks and he read three months.”

Keeping his arm around his daughter, Richard frowned. “In my defense, allow me to point out the fact that few people choose to conduct a large, formal wedding in three weeks’ time. I believe I can be excused the oversight due to the unusual circumstances. And, since your mother has ignored all of my correspondence for some time now—”

“Almost three months,” Monique interjected.

“—I had no way of knowing I’d made an error.” He gave Jenny’s hands a squeeze, saying, “I beg your forgiveness, Jenny. I’ve long dreamed of escorting you down the aisle. While in my opinion your mother is more at fault than I, it is conceivable that—”

“Hush, Richard,” Monique snapped. “We haven’t even found out if she’s well.”

“Of course she’s well. Look at her.” He looked more closely and frowned. “Oh, my. You are well, are you not, child? You look tired. Are you feeling all right?” He tossed a fatherly glare toward Trace. “My daughter obviously needs to rest. What are you doing standing there? Hurry, boy. Let’s get her inside.”

Trace opened his mouth to bark right back at Richard Fortune, but his intentions changed when he saw the expression on his wife’s face.

Amazement. Delight. Unadulterated joy.

As Jenny stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to her father’s cheek, Trace swore to himself he’d never allow a day go by without showing his daughters how much he loved them.

The girls led the way toward the house, Jenny following, flanked by her parents, with Trace assisting Tye and bringing up the rear. In all the excitement, neither the girls nor Jenny’s parents got around to mentioning the other surprise awaiting them inside.

Wearing a passably attractive dress, Ethel Baumgardner, her youthful face ravaged by signs of tears and worry, stood wringing a handkerchief in Willow Hill’s front parlor.

Jenny stiffened visibly. “Miss Baumgardner?”

“Oh, thank God you are all right! You are all right, aren’t you? Oh, please forgive me. You must forgive me. I never meant for you to be hurt.” The Dallas dressmaker burst into a flurry of tears. “I just wanted to make you leave here. I never thought Mr. Bailey would go to such extremes. I am so sorry. So very, very sorry.”

Trace breathed a curse under his breath as Jenny asked, “Sorry? For what?”

The dressmaker simply stood there, destroying her handkerchief and opening and closing her mouth like a fish.

Monique interjected. “The telegraph office in Dallas is run by the husband of the woman who trims my hair upon occasion. I discovered the truth and forced the witch to come along and confess. We never expected to arrive and find you missing!”

“What truth?” Jenny asked.

Trace’s mind worked a little faster than his wife’s at the moment. “She sent the fake telegram to Bailey about Mary Rose’s being burned. And I’ll bet she’s responsible for a few other things, too. The paint and dead roses that decorated your house. Some of those nasty notes you received.”

Guilt blazed across Ethel’s face, reflecting the accuracy of his deduction.

“I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt,” she said. “I just wanted you gone. I’m not as good as you are. I was trying to protect my livelihood.”

After a moment of shocked silence, Jenny took a menacing step toward her. “Do you know what you’ve done? Look at my brother-in-law. You almost got him killed, Ethel. I almost lost my baby because of you!”

“Baby!” the McBride Menaces gleefully exclaimed.

“Oh, my.” Monique gasped. “My baby’s having a baby? Richard?” She clasped his hand. “Richard, quickly. Tell me my hair isn’t gray!”

Jenny took it all in with a dazed look upon her face. Seeing her confusion, Trace laid a hand on her shoulder. “Honey, you need to go on upstairs and rest. I’ll take care of this.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. McBride,” Ethel Baumgardner said. “I’m leaving town. I’m leaving the state. I’ve decided to take my skills to California.”

“Sounds like a good decision, ma’am,” Tye observed. Trace heard the weakness in his brother’s voice and knew he’d best get both his wife and his twin upstairs.

“I’ll expect you gone within the week, Miss Baumgardner.” Trace caught Jenny’s gaze and cocked his head toward the stairs while he offered Tye a supportive arm. “You’ll find it best to meet my expectations.”

Then he dismissed the dangerous dressmaker from his mind as he helped his brother to his room. Later, once they were settled, he’d make certain the woman paid for her sins. Right now, his family was his main priority.

He then checked on Jenny. Despite his insistence, she refused to go to bed, although she did promise to take things easy. “We might as well get something settled from the beginning, Trace. I will not do anything to endanger our child. I know my body’s limits, and I will not exceed them. You’ll have to trust me on this. I won’t be coddled for months on end.”

Trace decided not to force the issue today. He’d damn well coddle the woman if he wanted to, but he wouldn’t argue about it now. When she shooed him from their bedroom, he left after only a token protest.

Pulled to Tye’s doorway by a force he wouldn’t name, he observed from the hallway as the doctor tended his brother’s wound. When he realized he’d lifted a hand to rub a sympathetic pain in his own shoulder, he gave a self- mocking grimace. His emotions were in a jumble as he watched the physician stitch the cleaned and medicated wound closed. As the doctor wrapped fresh bandages around Tye’s shoulder, words seemed to pop right out of Trace’s mouth. “Remember that doctor in the Fifth Regiment, Tye?”

Cautiously, Tye replied, “Yes.”

Trace referred to the physician who’d attended him the day his thigh was sliced open by a Yankee bayonet. It would have been his neck had his brother not come out of nowhere and saved him. “He was a ham-handed sonofagun. Not at all like Doc Draper, here.”

Tye nodded, and the doctor made a remark about the difficulty of practicing medicine during the war. Trace was inordinately relieved when Jenny arrived bearing a tray filled with sandwiches. The girls followed with fruit and lemonade. She addressed Tye. “Are you up for a little company or would you prefer peace and quiet?”

“Come in, please, all of you,” he said, waving them inside. “Bright faces always make me feel better.”

“Mama said we’re having a picnic on Uncle’s floor,” Katrina said. “I’ve never heard of a picnic indoors before. Have you, Papa?”

“It’s a new one on me, Katie-cat.”

The girls hovered around Jenny until she and the doctor excused themselves to conduct a consultation. When she met her husband’s gaze with a nod, he knew she intended to ask the doctor about the safety of continued marital relations considering yesterday’s troubles.

Trace said a quick, silent prayer that the answer would be what they both desired.

When Tye finished his sandwich and set his bed tray aside, Maribeth approached him, her gaze intent. “Mama told us about you being shot, Uncle. Does it hurt? Was it gushy?”

“Maribeth!” Emma exclaimed. “Where are your manners?”

“I’m just asking. How will I decide if I want to be a doctor or not if I don’t ask questions?”

Katrina sniffed. “You can’t be a doctor. You’re a girl.”

“I can too be a doctor. I can be anything I want. Papa always says so.”

Katrina folded her arms and gave her father a look. Trace smiled and said, “If Mari wants to be a doctor when she grows up, I’ll do everything I can to help her.”

The youngest child thought about it a moment and said, “That means you must help me too. You must build me a theater, Papa. One with red velvet seats. I’m going to be an actress.”

“An actress? I don’t know, Katie-cat, that’s not exactly the fixture I’d hoped for you.”

“But you’ll build me a theater, if I want it,” she said matter-of-factly. “I know you will. I’ll talk you into it.”

He laughed. “I guess I can’t argue with that. Tell you what. If I agree to build you a theater, I can promise it’ll be the grandest theater on this side of the Atlantic.”

She threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Papa, I love you the very, very, very mostest.” Relishing the sensation of his daughter’s fierce hug, Trace instinctively looked toward his brother. Tye’s gaze was anguished, and in that moment, Trace wanted the question settled once and for all. Shoulder wound or not, it was time the brothers had it out over Katrina.

“All right, girls. Picnic’s over.” He rose from the floor and gathered up the quilt. “Why don’t you take this stuff downstairs and put it away for your mother.”

The younger two protested, but Emma shook her head forcefully. “Come on. We need to help Mama. It’s very important that she’s happy here.”

The strange comment reminded Trace that he’d yet to have that talk with his daughter. As the girls exited the room he stopped Emma with a hand on the shoulder. “Want to walk with me for a licorice in a little bit, princess?”

She frowned. “Maybe, Papa. If Mama doesn’t need me, that is.”

She’s my next priority, Trace thought as he shut the door behind his daughter. But first, Tye needed to understand what was acceptable where Katrina was concerned. He went on the offensive. “Jenny seems to think you didn’t come here to break up my family.”

Tye closed his eyes. “She’s right. I don’t want to tear anything apart; I never did. I’m hoping to put something back together.”

Trace folded his arms and stepped toward the bed. Standing with his feet braced wide apart, he declared, “I’ll never, ever, give my daughter up.”

“I’m not asking you to,” his brother replied tightly, his hands clenching the sheet. “I’ve seen how happy she is, how much she’s loved. It would be selfish of me to take her away from all of this. I’ll admit that I had some concerns, but now that I’ve seen her, seen you all, I know what’s right.”