Tides of Passion (31 page)

"Are you so certain of that?" Savannah twirled a lock of hair around her finger, sincerely interested in what her best friend had to say. Maybe there
was
something she had missed. "How do you know that isn't all we have? Remember, my condition can't be used as justification."

Elle leaned forward, peeking over her shoulder before speaking. "The way he looks at you. Zach hasn't given a woman more than a passing glance since I've known him. Except for—"

"Hannah," she filled in.

"Yes. Fine. Hannah. But he never
stared
at her, God rest her soul, with a look that could melt glass. He looked at her more like, like a brother would look at a sister. The ones he gives you are far from sisterly."

This made her feel a bit better. Savannah bobbed her head, a decree to continue.

Elle shrugged. "And he's happier."

Savannah pinched the bridge of her nose, willing away an impending headache. "Happier? Is that the best you can come up with?"

"Well, how do you feel about
him
?" Elle jumped to her feet and paced the length of the narrow cell. Her skirt flapped against her ankles as she gestured wildly.

Proprietary, that's what she felt. Since coming to Pilot Isle, Savannah had come to think of Zach as her... well, not her property or anything terribly demeaning. But as
hers
. Perfectly natural considering her intense level of infatuation and the incredible heat they generated when they were in the same room.

"See? You can't tell me any better than he would be able to. My advice? You have to make a leap. Both of you. Love is a grand leap off a cliff without anything to soften the fall. Do you understand? You feel horrible and scared, but you do it because the outcome is worth the risk. I can't give you certainties, and I'm scared to death that's what he's looking for, too. You're both the most hardheaded, though seemingly reasonable, people I'll ever hope to meet."

"A certainty of what? That I won't leave him?"

Elle shook her head, glaring at Savannah. "No, silly, certainty that you won't
die
. That this
baby
won't die. How do you think he'll feel once you tell him, envisioning losing another wife and child all over again? It may be irrational, but he can't be blamed for thinking it."

Savannah unraveled her hair from her finger, gazing at a point above Elle's shoulder. My, that made sense. It didn't relieve the ache in her heart, but it gave her something to work toward. A timeline of sorts. Shaking her head, she glanced at her friend. "I can't give him that assurance, either. He wouldn't know until...."

"Until everything turns out okay."

Savannah mashed the heels of her hand to her eyes, the headache pounding now. "So you're suggesting I give him time. About eight months' worth?"

"Can you do it?" Elle dropped to the edge of the cot, eliciting another cheery squeak.

I'll try
, she thought. But she didn't feel sure enough to even put the promise into words.

* * *

Zach tilted his head, the sails above him filling, fat and lazy. His angles were off a bit, but he'd had good trim on each tack, enough to skip the boat across the narrow pass like a smooth pebble. Closing his eyes, he inhaled a lung-stinging breath. The weather was a welcome surprise. A burst of moonlight shone on his face, his shoulders. He squinted against the silver diamonds glinting off the water's surface and off his spectacles, studying a group of rowdy seagulls drifting alongside the stern.

As the dense shrub thickets and sea oat-topped dunes of Devil Island came into view, he shifted to a starboard tack, bringing the skiff close to shore. Flipping off his shoes, he rolled his trousers to his knee and hopped over the side, a groan slipping out at the water's bite.

Halting, he stared down the ivory stretch of beach, remembering. Devil had been his childhood refuge, one of the few places he and his brothers had been allowed to sail to alone. Once, Noah had snuck away to watch loggerhead turtles bury their eggs. Boy, Zach had been in a fine fright when he arrived to find his brother cooking fish over a pile of rocks as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Even though Zach had ripped his hair out trying to find him.

In the end, he'd let Noah stay another night. Heck, they'd stayed together. A deal made
after
the whipping.

Zach had always been an easy mark; he could be made to agree to almost anything after he gave a whipping.

Dropping to the sand, he tucked his arms beneath his head and stared into the endless midnight. A thousand stars twinkled in a clear sky. The moon was a glowing orb, spilling light over everything.

He should have felt content. He had a new wife, the most beautiful, passionate woman in North Carolina. Maybe in the whole world. And she seemed to care for him the way he cared for her. It wasn't love, but it felt fine just the same. For the first time in years, he wasn't so lonely that he wondered whether his soul was missing.

Instead, he felt miserable, knowing his family was a scant mile away and that right now, he couldn't face them.

Not yet.

The small square of leather dug into his hip. Reaching, he shifted, pulling it out of his pocket. It was sweat-stained and smooth from frequent handling. Zach fumbled with the clasp until it lay open on his palm. The past stared back at him from the faded daguerreotype.
Caleb
. Slightly blurred where he had moved; he had been impatient to get out of there and meet his friends. Noah, with slicked hair and pressed collar, had only been interested in how the tall contraption, like a box on spider legs, worked. Zach had stood there directing them all from behind the man under the black cloth. Hannah had been with him, arm looped through his, leaning into his side.

Zach laughed, recalling trying to push her into the picture. No, no, she wasn't at her best, she'd laughed with an airy wave, declining his suggestion. It didn't matter. He remembered her face as if she stood in the graying picture with his brothers instead of just outside the frame.

The memories hit him, hard and furious. For the first time in years he let them.

It was acceptable to grieve here. He'd come to believe that during the first months after losing Hannah and his child. The taste of tears on his tongue was hauntingly familiar.

What was he to do? Where would he find the strength?

Savannah was pregnant
.

Sitting up, he ripped his hand through his hair, heart pounding hard enough to make him queasy. Gulping the salty air, he flattened his palms to the sand, digging his fingers in past the knuckle.

She had been asleep when he made it back to the jail after securing another patrol for the evening shift. The look on Elle's face, and the hints, were too many to overlook. Savannah's sleepiness of late, the bout or two of crying. And today, the fainting spell. Zach might not like to think he knew what those things meant, but he did. Of course he did.

He had lived through them twice before.

This afternoon, he had carried her home, hushing her when she tried to rouse herself from sleep. Tucking her into bed, he left a note telling her he'd had to go on patrol after all.

Coward
.

Digging deep, he threw a ball of moist sand as far as he could, cursing himself, cursing her. He was insane to feel this way, possessive and hungry, wild-eyed and impulsive, about a woman who had tripped into his life only two short months ago.

Now she was going to have his child.

Jesus
. Arms spread, he collapsed on the sand. How could he rationalize the unbelievable rush of emotion
that
thought channeled through his mind and body? Anger and fear and such unadulterated happiness that he thought he might pass out from the force of it. At this moment, he didn't really care about rationalizing motives and discussing intent. He wanted to go home and make love to his wife.

Therein lay the triple thrust of guilt. He hadn't felt this strongly about Hannah... or maybe that wasn't a good way to put it. He hadn't felt that strongly about her in a
carnal
way. He had loved her deeply, much as he loved Elle, whom he'd grown up thinking of as a sister.

How goddamned depressing.

Thirty-four years old, and he was just now finding he didn't have
anything
worked out. Did he love Savannah? Had he loved Hannah the way he should have, the way she'd deserved to be loved? Could he silence the nagging voice telling him he was going to lose it all again, and confront the woman right this very minute sleeping in his bed?

Who the hell knew? He didn't.

He guessed that left him hiding on an island in the middle of the night rather than facing the fact that his wife, a woman he couldn't take his eyes off for more than a minute when they were in the same room, let alone keep from touching, was pregnant with his child.

A woman who had promised not to love him, after, or possibly before, he had promised to do the same.

Chapter 16

After great pain, a formal feeling comes
.

~Emily Dickinson

Zach met Caleb in the kitchen the next morning. After enduring the frown of displeasure on his brother's face, he asked where he could find Savannah.

Oh, easy answer there. She was with Rory.
In the tree house
.

Were they all crazy?

"Get down from there," he yelled as soon as he reached the thick oak. She could fall and hurt herself or the baby. Thinking fast, he cursed softly, wishing he could call it back. He was supposed to let her tell him the news and accept it calmly. And happily. Happiness. He must remember to include happiness and exclude fear. Though the knot in his belly hadn't gotten any smaller after spending the night on Devil Island.

Savannah's and Rory's heads popped over the edge. One blond and tussled, the other dark and glossy. Squinting, Zach lifted his hand for shade, his heart expanding, then tripping into a thunderous cadence.

Did he love her? Was
that
the problem?

Why her when there had been so many
uncomplicated
women to choose from in town, women who had been forever bringing him cakes and pastries and cookies with colorful sprinkles to show their interest? Batting their eyelashes and simpering prettily when he walked into the mercantile or Christabel's restaurant. Making a show of smoothing his cuff or collar when they got the chance.

Didn't God just have a fun time up there, throwing huge boulders in a man's path?

"Pa! Come on up. We're paintin'. You and me can finish hammering 'cause I got new nails with Uncle Cale last night. And some strawberry lollies, but I ate 'em all. He let me carry the bag and keep it under my bed. I even showed Vannie when she read me a story." Taking an excited breath, his tiny chest heaved. "Hey! I almost forgot. I smashed my finger with the hammer and cried a little, but Vannie said that was okay cause everybody cries. Not like I'm a baby or nothing."

"Anything," he heard her correct.

Vannie
. How long would it be before Rory starting calling her Momma?

The question circling, Zach's gaze strayed to hers. And held. The space between them sizzled. He stopped himself from taking a step back, hoping no one was going to take a good look at the front of his britches. His body sure did recognize her quickly. "Son, your uncle has biscuits and gravy ready. You need to wash up. We'll get to that hammering after."

Rory pursed his lips. "Oh, Pa."

"Oh, Pa, nothing." Taking his eyes off Savannah, he nodded at his boy, telling him in no uncertain terms that he meant business.

"Gotta go, Vannie. Big boys have to eat breakfast every day," Rory grumbled and scrambled down the rickety ladder without looking down to see if his feet were going to catch the rungs.

"Inside," Zach said and tapped Rory on the behind. "I'll wait for Savannah." He glanced up as the screen door slammed, and his son's excited chatter drifted from the kitchen.

Her head hung over the edge of the tree house, her cheeks pink. From his look, her thoughts, or her upside-down position, he couldn't guess where the color came from. "Come on down from there. What if you bounce out right on your lovely head? You have to quit climbing up there with the boy all the time. It isn't safe."

Savannah swallowed slowly. He watched her throat pull, remembering touching her there, kissing her there. "You know," she finally said, her face losing a bit of its blazing color. "
You know
."

He didn't dispute it; he'd never been much of a liar.

"Who told you?" she demanded, never one to flinch in the face of adversity.

Zach shrugged, arms lifting then dropping to his side. "No one. Took me a while to figure it out though."

"Because you've experienced all this before." Her eyes glittered when she said it, as if he had done something wrong by figuring out that his wife was pregnant.

Feeling a spark of anger, he moved until he stood directly underneath her. "You coming down so we can talk about this, or are you going to sit up there pouting?"