Cherokee Baby Part 26

that day, too. We were driving back toTexasfromOklahoma, but we were only a few hours from home." Julianne didn't respond, so he continued, purging his sins. "When the weather took a turn for the worse,Sharonstarted to worry. She wanted me to find a motel, so we could wait out the storm."

"But you kept driving."

"Yes. I'd driven in storms much more dangerous than the one we were in. I convinced her everything

would be okay. That I'd get her home safe and sound."

He glanced out the winds.h.i.+eld, recalling how macho he'd been, how sure of himself. "About thirty

minutes later a vehicle behind us lost control and in the chaos that followed, several cars swerved. Someone sideswiped us and I skidded across the wet highway and went off an embankment." Bobby closed his eyes. Julianne remained quiet, listening to him describe the day he'd killed his wife.

"Our truck rolled, pinning us inside." He could still feel the slow-motion effect of the crash, the mangled metal, the break of his own bones,the trauma of his leg being partially severed. "I didn't see what happened toSharon. I pa.s.sed out and when I regained consciousness, I was in the hospital." He sucked in a breath, forced it out of his lungs. "She didn't stand a chance. She died at the scene of the accident."

He opened his eyes, stared straight ahead. "We'd been visiting her family inOklahoma. And I'd just promised her parents that I would take care of their daughter, that I would protect her."

"It was an accident. You didn't mean for her to die."

He turned toward Julianne, confused by her expression, by the tenderness and compa.s.sion. She wasn't looking at him at if he were some sort of monster. She didn't see the ugliness inside him.

"I still love you," she said, as if reading his mind. "This doesn't change how I feel about you."

"How can you say that?"

"Because you're a good man with a good heart. And now I understand what you've been going through.

The guilt and pain you've had to bear."

Bobby squeezed her hand, held it like a lifeline. He wondered what he'd done to deserve her, to have such a beautiful woman believe in him.

Nothing, he thought, guilt consuming him again. He didn't deserve Julianne's support.

"I wasn't wearing my wedding band on the daySharondied," he admitted, explaining why the ring had become an issue. "About a week before our trip toOklahoma, I injured my hand. It wasn't a serious injury, but I removed my ring because my fingers started to swell. After my hand healed, I-"

"Didn't want to put your ring back on," Julianne provided gently.

Bobby nodded, shame curling in his belly. "I was restoring a vintage truck at the time and my ring was getting in the way. I was concerned about another injury."

He blew a breath. "Sharongot upset. Really upset. I couldn't understand her logic, why she was making such a fuss. I told her that a lot of men didn't wear their wedding bands. Construction workers, mechanics, guys who did physical labor." He paused, glanced at his empty finger.

"After she died, I put the ring back on. I had Michael bring it to me in the hospital." Out of guilt, he thought. Out of remorse. "That gold band was a reminder of what I'd done. Of the day I'd taken her life."

"Oh, Bobby." Julianne raised their joined hands and brushed his knuckles with her lips. "You never let yourself feel anything but pain. Nothing good. No positive memories."

"She was so young. She'd just graduated from college. How was I supposed to face what I'd done?"

"You didn't do anything but love her."

The guilt returned, constricting his chest. "I should have listened to her. I should have found a motel, waited out the storm."

"You made a mistake. And you paid dearly for that mistake."

"I deserved to pay."

"No, you didn't," she argued softly. "You had the right to mourn your wife, but you also had the right to find peace. To go on."

Did he? Bobby wondered. Was it that simple? He looked at Julianne. He wanted to be with her, to raise their child together, to share joys and sorrows, to celebrate holidays, to dance, to laugh, to cuddle on long winter nights.

"I'm willing to start living now," he said, knowing he couldn't bear to lose her. "To stop holding back. To give you my heart."

Reacting to his words, to his need for her, Julianne leaned toward him and he stroked her hair. His lady. His love. The Irish fairywho touched his soul.

"Will you stay inTexas?" he asked. "Will you come back to the ranch with me?"

She lifted her head, her lashes glistening with tears.

Their gazes locked and he waited for her answer. He knew this was what he wanted, what he needed.

But he couldn't propose, not yet. That would come later, when the timing was right. When he faced the next hurdle.

"Will you?" he repeated his question, asking her to return to the ranch with him.

Her voice broke. "I'd be honored to."

Bobby's heart stuck in his throat.

He glanced at the winds.h.i.+eld. The rain had lessened, but the roads were still wet. "Do you trust me to get you home safely?" "Yes," she told him, looking directly into his eyes. "I trust you with my life." * * * Julianne and Bobby arrived at her cabin. He'd stopped by his place to pack a bag and to grab his crutches, which meant he was willing to stay the night.

But even so, Julianne sensed he was apprehensive about his leg, still concerned about revealing it to her.

They entered her house in silence and she wished this wasn't so awkward, that she knew what to say or to do to make this moment more natural.

Should she turn to him? Kiss him? Lead him to her room? Or would that be too aggressive?

She closed the door and he moved closer. Without thinking, without worrying any more, she slipped her arms around his neck.

Their mouths came together, softly, gently.

As warm as her heart. As moist as the rain.

"I don't want to wait until tonight," she said. She wanted him now. All of him. Every solid muscle, every bone-st.u.r.dy ridge, every virile plane.

"Me, either." He deepened the kiss,then stepped back. "I'll use the other bathroom. It'll be easier that way." He wanted privacy, she realized. Time to psyche himself into removing his prosthesis. She took a breath, summoned a smile. "Are you going to meet me in the bedroom?" "Yes. I'll be ready in just a bit." He returned her smile, but she knew he was still nervous. Julianne was nervous, too. She wanted this to be special. After he retreated down the hall, she headed to the master bathroom. She slipped on the prettiest nightgown she owned and lit some scented candles, hoping Bobby would appreciate the romantic ambience. Waiting on the edge of the bed like a virgin bride, she twisted her hands on her lap. Maybe she was trying too hard. Maybe she should have worn a pair of panties. Maybe- Bobby came into the room on his crutches and her heart went soft and girlish.

He wore a pair of boxers and nothing else. His hair, loose and combed away from his face, fell across his shoulders and down his back. She longed to touch him, to hold him, feel his bare skin against hers. She glanced at his amputated leg, accepting the strength and beauty of it. Bobby Elk spent his days running a guest ranch, training; riders, enjoying the horses that kept him focused, battling; his disability like a true American cowboy. "You're perfect," she said. "Perfect?" He tilted his head. "You must need gla.s.ses, dear lady." "Are you accusing me of getting old, Mr. Elk? Of not being able to recognize a hunky guy when I see one?"

He laughed and moved forward, then stopped and made a troubled face. "I wish I could carry you to bed, Julianne. I wish I wasn't standing here with these d.a.m.n crutches under my arms." "That doesn't matter. Just lie down with me. Hold me." They climbed into bed and he held her against his chest. For the longest time they remained quiet. He stroked her hair and she closed her eyes. "I didn't ask you earlier," he said. "But I wanted to wait until we were in bed. Until you knew what you were in for." She opened her eyes. "Ask me what?"

"To marry me."

Julianne touched his face, tracing the features she'd come to know, the features she hoped their child would inherit. "Are you asking me now?" "Yes." Tears misted. Happy tears. Emotional tears. "I've been waiting for this. Hoping and praying." He smiled and she brushed his lips with a tender kiss. He was everything her heart wanted, everything her soul ached to claim.

Anxious, she deepened the kiss, feeding on his mouth, his tongue, the thrill of knowing he belonged to her. Bobby hadn't expected the flash of heat. He'd pictured shy advances, with Julianne avoiding his residual limb, trying to be polite. But her hands were everywhere, sliding all over his body. He didn't have time to feel self-conscious, to give a d.a.m.n that part of his leg was missing. She rubbed against him and he grinned and streaked a hand under her nightgown, suddenly aware that she was naked underneath. He stroked her, making her wet and slick. She arched and moaned, inviting him to absorb her breathy pants, her dreamy sighs,her sweet, sweet need. When she climaxed, he watched her, fascinated by the tremor in her body, the emerald glow in her eyes. She reached for his boxers and he helped her remove them. While she straddled him, she lifted her nightgown over her head and let it float to the floor. She looked like a G.o.ddess, pale skin glowing by candlelight, vibrant hair tangling like scarlet vines. He circled the tips of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and she leaned forward to kiss him, to taste his tongue. And then she lifted her hips and impaled herself on his length, intensifying every sensation, every thundering beat of his heart. Time and s.p.a.ce disappeared. There was nothing but the rhythm of s.e.xual surrender pumping through his blood, the rise of scented smoke swirling in the air.

He slid his hands along her curves, encouraging her to ride him slow and easy, then strong and steady, then hard and fast. He wanted it all. Every hot, searing kiss, every quick, driving motion, every spiraling lash of pleasure. Their eyes locked and he reared up to claim her, to brand her, to thrust deep. She clawed his shoulders; he licked the side of her neck, more aroused than he'd ever been.

She arched and bucked, and he spilled into her, joining her in a hot, hammering o.r.g.a.s.m.

Afterward she collapsed on top of him and for the longest time, neither of them moved.

Finally he slipped his arm around her, cradling her, keeping her warm and protected.

She sighed and he marveled at the silkiness of her skin, the tickle of her hair against his chin. Being this

close to Julianne was the most incredible feeling in the world.

A feeling of strength, of wholeness, where nothing was missing, neither from his heart nor his body.

She s.h.i.+fted, pressing her cheek against his chest, and he stroked her back, sliding his hand up and down

her spine.

A-tsi-ye-hi, he thought. Soon she would take a vow with him, become his wife.

"It's going to be okay," she said.

He nuzzled the top of her head. "Yes, it is." Because of her. Because she would help him heal, help him

find a way to cope with the past.

It would get easier, Bobby thought. Every day would bring new meaning, new emotions,new challenges.

"I'm looking forward to the future," he said.

"So am I." She took his hand and placed it on her tummy, reminding him of the baby in her womb. "I

love you, Bobby."

"I love you, too." He watched the candles flicker, then s.h.i.+fted to kiss her.

To join with her again.

And again, he thought. For the rest of their lives.

Epilogue.

Julianne reclined in a hospital bed, weary and sore, but too excited to sleep, to lose sight of the wonder surrounding her. After a long and exhausting labor, she'd given birth to an eight-pound baby boy. And now the child lay in her arms, wrapped in a blanket. She and Bobby had known ahead of time that their child was a boy, but that hadn't prepared them for the sheer and total awe of this moment.

Bobby stood beside the bed, with pride and emotion in his eyes.

Her lover. Her husband.

On a breezy fall morning they'd been married in an idyllic ceremony in the hills, exchanging vows beneath

the vastTexa.s.sky, with friends and family in attendance. She'd carried a single white rose and he'd give her a blue diamond, a ring as bright and magical as an enchanted star.

It had been the most joyous event of her life.

Just like today.

He reached for a colorful bag. "I found this in the gift shop."

"Another teddy bear?" she asked. He'd started a collection for their baby months ago, adding furry little faces to the nursery nearly every week.

"I couldn't resist." He lifted the toy. "This one comes with a song." He wound the key on the side and filled the room with a lullaby.

"It's beautiful." And so was he, this man who said Cherokee prayers every morning.

While the music played, he sat on the edge of the bed, lowered his head and initiated a kiss.

He tasted of quiet days and romantic nights, of the ranch he'd built, of the dreams they shared.