“And what do I get if I win?” she said with a laugh.
“Me and my male m—.”
“I understand,” she interrupted. “What are we waiting for?”
For three days they did little else but make love. They didn’t talk about themselves or anyone else, and Leah refused to think of what awaited her in Sweetbriar.
The cabin that had been so full of hate and fear was now full of laughter and teasing. They chased each other about the table, made love on the table, under the table, and once half on a chair, half on the table.
On the morning of the fourth day she knew it was over. As she curled against Wesley’s nude body she felt the tension in his muscles.
“I’ll start packing,” she said, but he caught her to him before she could move away.
“I’ve never enjoyed myself more in my life, Leah,” he whispered, hovering over her lips. “Even the time with Revis was almost enjoyable because you were here.”
She held her breath, praying he would say he loved her, but he rolled away and sat up.
“But the honeymoon’s over because we need to get back. I’ve got crops to put in, animals to feed, people to set to work and—.”
“And a wife who’s known as a thief,” Leah said flatly.
“We’ll fix that,” he said, brushing her words aside. “The Dancer is more important.”
“Why did you say Revis lied when he told you who the Dancer was?”
Wesley stood, his big body beautiful in the hazy early morning light in the cabin. “Devon Macalister is my friend, a very good friend of mine, and it’s going to go against everything I believe to prove he’s the leader of thieves. And yet”—he paused—“he does have access to knowledge and he does know the woods.
“Goddamn it!” Wes suddenly bellowed, and his mood changed from that of a lover to one of brooding silence.
Leah had her own grim thoughts. It was easy for Wesley to dismiss her fears, but Leah couldn’t. She kept seeing the hatred in the eyes of the woman Revis had wounded. Would that hatred be in other people’s eyes?
As they went down the mountain, they were quietly occupied with their own dark thoughts.
Chapter 24
Leah stood on the hill, reins trailing behind her, and looked down at what her husband said was her new home. It wasn’t Stanford Plantation, but it was large and sprawling, with two barns, three sheds, acres of cultivated fields, and an L-shaped log cabin.
“There’s a spring not far from the house,” Wesley was saying, “and I’ll put in a kitchen garden for you this week.” He paused. “Do you like it, Leah?” he asked quietly. “It’s not the house Travis gave his bride, but I’ll add onto it soon, I promise.”
Turning, she smiled at him. “It’s better than I’d ever hoped for. I like it very much.”
“I had Justin and Oliver make some repairs on the house.”
She looked away because she didn’t want him to know she remembered that he’d said he couldn’t bear even sleeping in the house because she was to live in it and not Kim.
They mounted their horses and as they rode onto Wes’s land three dogs came out to greet him. Oliver Stark, his sleeves rolled up, came from the barn.
“Am I glad to see you! I’ve got a horse foaling and it’s breech. Know anything about horses?”
Wes was on the ground and following Oliver in seconds. “The house is yours, Leah,” he called behind him.
For a moment Leah sat there studying the house with its deep, columned porch. Hers. Her very own house, her very own husband. Months ago in Virginia she’d imagined this time. She’d hoped Wes would be in love with her and she’d thought of how he’d carry her over the threshold and they’d be the picture of wedded bliss.
But the actuality was that she was to enter alone, her husband might or might not be in love with Kimberly, Leah was publicly known as a thief, and Wes was not by any means in love with his wife.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning.”