Free Promises Linger (Promise Series) by Sarah McCarty Page B

of his chest pushed against her shoulder as he sighed. “I didn’t think so.”
    His hand pressed against her head. She resisted, but he kept at it until her cheek found the hollow of his shoulder. She didn’t know why the man thought that holding her close was going to soothe her, but he did.
    “I’m not comfortable,” she said.
    “Then relax.”
    Since it was either that or have her neck snap, she did. A quick peek showed his gaze fastened on the flame of the oil lamp. His hand began stroking her hair. Gentle, light touches that started awkward but soon changed to comfortable. The silence stretched as tight as her nerves.
    “I don’t have any choice in this,” he said, an apology coached in the bald statement. “You could wake up tomorrow and change your mind.”
    “Yes.” And the ranch would go to the bank next month. She wouldn’t have her home. She would have failed in her duty, and she would have failed herself. Lord, she was weak enough to think, as a solution, it wasn’t so bad.
    Beneath her ear, Asa’s chest rose and fell with his even breathing. His fingers slid from her hair and explored the tops of her bare shoulders. She controlled the urge to cringe.
    The rhythm of his breathing broke as he sighed, “Damn, I’m a selfish bastard.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I could chance that you won’t change your mind and give you time.”
    She looked into his face. His grim expression squashed her small hope. “But you won’t,” she concluded out loud before asking, “Why?”
    He had to know she was looking at him, but he didn’t take his gaze from the steady flame of the lamp. “Three reasons. First off, if I do get killed holding onto this ranch, you’d be back where you started with your ranch up for grabs to whoever lands you at the altar.”
    “I don’t understand what that has to do with consummating our vows.”
    His free hand cupped her belly through the bunched up quilt. “If you had a baby, the child would inherit when he grew up, not your next husband.”
    “If there was anything left to inherit,” she pointed out.
    The pressure of his fingers increased. For absolutely no reason, she found it protective. “There’s always risks, but it’s the best odds you’ve got.”
    As he was the best bet she had against losing it all. The similarity in their thinking was comforting. “You said there were three reasons?”
    No mistake, the hand on her stomach was protective. And possessive. “The thought of a little one of my own has been nagging at me.”
    “You want a son.” That she could understand. Her father had spent his whole life on two pursuits; building the ranch and getting a son.
    “I’ll admit you dropping a delicate little girl first time off scares the beejezus out of me, but I expect I’d manage.”
    She just bet it scared him. Men were obsessed with sons. “I’ll have you know, Mr. MacIntyre, women do not do anything as indelicate as ‘drop’ babies.”
    “Well, you tell me the correct word and I’ll use it.”
    “It’s not something that’s discussed.”
    That got his attention away from the lamp. “If we’re not to discuss it, how am I to know when you get in the family way? Or if you need something when you do get that way?”
    It was obvious he found the situation amusing while her cheeks were burning from the direction of the conversation. “I’m sure something will occur to me if the time ever comes,” she said through gritted teeth. “You mentioned a third reason?”
    The corn husks rustled as he shifted to face her. His hands contracted in the quilt. “The only thing I’ve been thinking about since you laid out that fancy gambler is the way a man gets a woman pregnant.” The quilt started to loosen as he pulled. “And how much I wanted to do that with you.”
    She closed her eyes. The time had come.
    The tugging stopped. The loose hair on her forehead parted on his slow exhale. “That,” he admitted in a low voice, “and how much a bastard I