Chapter 17 #3
“Do you really think so?” Jean asked anxiously.
She smiled, and her face lit up. She could be so pretty, Sabrina thought, except that she was always ducking her head just slightly, and her smiles were too rare and so hesitant.
At that particular moment, Sabrina didn’t give a damn about bread.
But it was very important to Jean, and so Sabrina tried hard to cool her temper and respond to her friend’s question.
“Yes, I think so.”
“Lloyd will be pleased. He’s always so anxious to make a good impression. And I’m afraid I’m a poor wife for an ambitious military man.”
“Don’t be silly; you’re sweet and charming, and people love you. Don’t ever believe anything less of yourself, Jean. Ever,” Sabrina said sternly.
Sloan had walked by, across the parade grounds and the field. He’d never looked up; he was so absorbed in whatever he was reading. What was he reading—what had happened?
Jean grabbed her by the arms suddenly, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Oh, thank you. Thank you so much! You’ve been so wonderful to me. I’m—I’m going to go make bread!”
Sabrina managed a smile and a wave; then she started home.
She opened the door to their quarters. The stew she had been making bubbled on the stove.
For a moment, it smelled delicious, then the aroma made her feel just slightly ill, making her more certain than ever that she was expecting a child again.
She had wanted it so badly, and now, she just felt numb.
It seemed that now she was sure she was going to have a baby, just when she felt the least secure in her marriage and the least sure of her husband, with whom she was falling in love.
She stepped inside. Sloan stood leaning against the mantel. She saw no sign of the letter he had been reading. He sipped a whiskey. She turned around to close the door, keeping her back to him for a moment.
“Where have you been?” he asked her.
She turned around and looked at him.
“I went out for a walk. I’d heard that there had been a baseball game—but that it had ended.
I was talking to Libbie for a while, then to Jean.
Libbie says that Autie is due back. He’s very upset about his problems with Grant—more so because he feels he can’t even properly feed his family on his army pay. ”
“Graft and corruption exist, and they do take their toll,” he murmured. “But then, Libbie feeds about seven members of the Custer family nightly.”
“The ladies were all quite excited about your baseball game. They said that you made a great hit.”
“I did.”
“I’m sorry I missed it.”
“I came here as soon as I got back, but you were sleeping.”
“Ah.”
“Supper smells wonderful, by the way. Will it be ready soon?”
“Yes.”
She took bowls and silverware from the cupboard and set them, along with the stew, on the table. She felt him watching her as she folded napkins. “Where did you go after the game?”
“After?” he inquired.
“Yes, after your baseball game.”
He folded his arms over his chest, his dark eyes simmering. “Why are you asking?”
She set a folded napkin on the table and looked up at him. “Oh. Just because I saw you coming out of Marlene’s.”
“You were following me?” he inquired politely. “Spying on me?”
It seemed that he lit a match to a fuse deep inside her. “Spying on you?” she hissed.
“Watching my movements.”
“I happened to be across the parade grounds.”
“Oh. Of course,” he murmured coolly. She didn’t know if he was being defensive or if he just didn’t care.
Sabrina took the pot of stew from the stove and set it down on the table. He took a step toward the table, pulling out his chair to sit.
Sabrina sat as well, in stiff silence.
He sighed, his eyes narrowing at her as he said, “Marlene asked me over to give me a letter. I had a drink with her, that’s all.”
That was all. And surely, she told herself, it was the truth.
Except that when he’d left, Marlene had been half-naked.
“Oh.” She was going to be calm, completely collected. She was not going to cause a scene.
But when she stood to ladle some stew into his bowl from the pot, she dropped his bowl—with the stew in it.
The bowl flipped.
Meat, potatoes, carrots, and gravy traveled across the table. He jumped up just in time to keep the hot food from spilling onto his lap.
He stared at her furiously, and she looked at him in horror. They both knew he’d have been in severe pain if the food had traveled any farther.
She felt a sweep of raw panic filling her at the look in his eyes, but she tried to stand her ground. “I’m sorry; I didn’t do that on purpose.” Despite herself, she backed away slightly.
He strode around the table. She tensed.
But he didn’t come near her. He plucked his hat off one of the hooks by the door, setting it on his head and adjusting it over his brow.
“Right,” he said.
“Sloan, I—”
He walked out the door.
And slammed it behind himself.
Shaking, Sabrina sank into her chair.
How had things gone so badly? She was afraid that she was going to burst into tears of frustration. To prevent herself from doing so, she jumped up, cleaning up the mess she had made of the stew she had so carefully prepared.
The activity was good. It kept her busy for nearly an hour.
But then…
The room was completely clean. And she was left with nothing at all to do but pace.
Hours went by. Midnight came and went. She played with the idea of running home to Skylar, but she knew that no one would give her an escort when Sloan was in residence—and besides, she didn’t want to be away from him; she wanted to be with him.
She was going to stay.
She disrobed, carefully putting away her clothing and slipping into a white cotton nightgown. She went to bed and lay there…
As more hours passed by.
Finally, she heard him come in. He moved about in the office area for a while, then came into the bedroom.
She lay on her side of the bed while he shed his clothing. She felt him lie beside her. He was still for so long that she thought he had fallen asleep.
But he wasn’t asleep. He reached for her, drawing her back against him. His hand slipped beneath her gown, drawing it up. He was pulling her hips flush against his groin, stroking her buttocks and thighs.
“I keep thinking that you’ll come to me,” he said softly. “But you don’t.”
“I didn’t spill the stew on purpose,” she told him, “but…” Her voice trailed away as she felt the seduction of his touch. “Damn you, Sloan!” she cried out softly, dismayed that she could want him so quickly and so desperately that all thought and protest fled her mind.
“Sloan—”
“Sabrina, you’re my wife. We’re married, and we will have a family.”
“Sloan—”
“Damn you, Sabrina, I wasn’t with her.”
“I saw her, standing in the window.”
He pulled her closer. She didn’t mean to stiffen, but she did. She felt his fingers brushing aside her hair, felt his lips at the nape of her neck. “I want you, and I want a family.”
He wanted a child. She was certain they didn’t need to make any further effort to begin a family.
But she kept silent, because she felt the sweet fire of his seduction racing through her, and she was glad that he was there, with her.
He made love passionately, with the fierce hunger that seemed to fill him each time he had been away. She couldn’t fight the wild, hot, sweet sensations he evoked, nor deny the pleasure that filled her whenever he touched her.
Yet later, she was aware that he lay awake, staring into the darkness. And she felt as if a great distance lay between them.
Then he rose with a sudden supple movement and dressed in the darkness.
Sabrina realized that he was leaving. She wanted to call him back.
She couldn’t allow herself to do so.
He paused briefly in the archway, looking back. “Madam, I don’t lie,” he informed her.
“I didn’t accuse you of lying, Sloan.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I never said—”
“Not with words, Sabrina. Not with words.”
Then he left. The door slamming behind him seemed like a shotgun blast in the darkness.