Free Never Love a Cowboy by Lorraine Heath

me.”
    “The man was a fool.”
    “I was the fool, Harry. I lapped up his smooth talking the way a cat laps up cream.”
    “What of the child?”
    Closing her eyes, she shook her head. Harrison placed his hand over hers. “Jessye, what happened to the child?”
    Tears shimmered in her eyes when she opened them. “I gave her up.”
    “Gave her up? You hated her that much?”
    Reaching out, she dug her fingers into his forearm,her eyes pleading for understanding. “No, I loved her that much.”
    He jerked free of her touch. “Love does not abandon.”
    He stalked to the stove and watched the water, drowning in memories he seemed unable to hold at bay. The softening he’d begun to feel toward Jessye had vanished. He had experienced moments when he’d actually believed her to be warm and loving, moments when he’d thought perhaps she could show him the way to love.
    But she had abandoned her child. She was no different from his mother or his mistresses. She was a woman without a heart.
     
    Jessye lay on her side before the hearth, staring at the dancing flames, her back to Harry. She didn’t know why she bothered to care about the man. He had a habit of wounding her with words…and tonight those words had sliced open a wound that she thought had long ago healed.
    Jo Beth and Peter Haskell had offered them the floor in their front room because the barn was wet and cold. She heard Harry’s breathing, felt his presence, and was contemplating moving to the barn. She didn’t think she could feel any colder there than she did lying here next to him.
    She listened to him shifting his body over the puncheon floor. Would he never settle in to sleep?
    She heard the tiny wail of hunger in the next room—the sweet echo of innocence—followed by silence as a mother took her child to her breast. Jessye had only held her daughter and nourished her for threedays…touched her soft hair…breathed in the pure scent of her small baby’s body. A hot tear rolled toward her temple. How could memories that brought such joy hurt so painfully?
    The rustle of Harry’s movements intruded on her thoughts. “Will you be still?” she demanded, jerking her head around to glare at him. He sat on his knees, staring at the bedroom door, his hands balled into tight fists on his thighs.
    “The baby was crying,” he murmured. “Then she stopped. What do you think they’re doing to her?”
    Jessye eased into a sitting position, folding her legs beneath her. “She was hungry. They’re no doubt feeding her.”
    “They didn’t come out here to get any food.”
    “Her mother…” She felt the heat suffuse her face. “Her mother is probably nursing her.”
    Harry’s glance darted to Jessye’s breasts before he shifted his gaze upward to her eyes. He gave a short nod. “Oh, yes. I…I hadn’t thought of that. Did you…” He waved his hand in front of his chest. “Did you feed your baby like that?”
    “While I had her. Before I abandoned her.” She couldn’t prevent the bitterness from tainting her voice.
    He flinched, but his action failed to ease her hurt. “Go to sleep, Harry, and for God’s sake stop twisting and turning.” She started to lie down.
    “I was afraid that they might be hurting the baby.”
    She stilled, studying his profile as he kept his gaze focused on the door. Little wonder the colonies rebelled. The English were a stupid bunch. “You don’t give birth to a baby and then hurt it.”
    “My mother did.”
    Her stomach knotted at the surety in his voice. “Not intentionally—”
    “When I was four, she led me to the cellar. She demanded that I tell her that I loved her. When I did, she said she hated me, shoved me into the dank storage room, closed and locked the door. In the darkness, I heard the rats squealing, the patter of their paws clicking over the cold stone—”
    Jessye’s stomach roiled as the bile burned its way up her throat. Touching his arm, she felt the tenseness in his muscles.