His mouth twisted in a frown that was almost a sneer. “You want me to believe you’re going to live in a barn? A pampered princess like you?”
She offered him a pouting smile that was pure coquettishness. “I don’t think you can call me that any longer, Lance Calder. I just spent an entire month as an unpaid drudge in a Comanche camp, remember? But I suppose you’re right. The barn wouldn’t do, for we wouldn’t have any privacy. But don’t worry, I’ll think of some place. If nothing else, we can use one of the servants’ cabins—
“Oh—I have it! The old house, the one Papa built when he and Mama first settled here. It’s only used for storage now, and for guest quarters, but it would be perfect for us. It’s only made of logs—not as fancy or as large as the big house—but if you don’t mind, I wouldn’t. It will need a lot of work, I’m afraid—no one’s touched it since the war started, and it’s probably filthy and in need of repairs—but we can fix it up, I’m certain.”
He stared down at her, doubt and shock warring with outraged pride. “I’ll be damned,” he said stiffly, his voice gruff with renewed fury, “if you’re going to sacrifice any more for me.”
She reached up to touch his cheek, so tenderly, he almost winced. “That’s what being a wife means sometimes—sacrificing for your family. You’re my family now, Lance. My husband. You would do the same for me, I know. You have, in fact. Many times. What’s fair for you is certainly fair for me.”
Easing his weight off her, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the loft overhead. Part of him wanted to throw Summer’s magnanimous gesture back in her face. He didn’t want her sacrificing anything for him, goddammit—the mere word speared a raw, festering wound that had tormented him all his life, because his mother had sacrificed so much for him. Summer didn’t want to have him for her husband, he knew. She only felt an obligation to him.
And yet her avowal was balm to his bitter fury. She wasn’t going to try to get out of their marriage. She was going to keep her end of the bargain. She was even going to try and build a home together with him. If he was willing to swallow his hot-tempered pride.
But did he have any choice? Could he bear the cold emptiness of his existence without her?
He laughed harshly to himself, covering his eyes with his arm. The question was downright moronic. He couldn’t live without Summer filling his days and nights. Not now, not after knowing the wonder of possessing her.
Just then she turned toward him and nuzzled her face against his side, as if she wanted the closeness. Hesitantly he lifted his arm and let her snuggle against him, her head resting in the curve of his shoulder. She sighed as if content.
The icy knots of tension inside him slipped a bit, loosening a tiny inch.
They unraveled another degree at her next murmured words. “We’re married now, Lance, for better or worse. All we have now is each other.”
He felt his heart stop beating for breath of time. “Do I have you, princess?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, you have me,” Summer answered sincerely. He didn’t quite believe her, she could tell. Or trust her, either. Lance was a man who had been alone too long to trust easily.
But she would prove to him she meant what she said. She intended to honor their wedding vows, no matter what it cost her. He had earned her loyalty, and he would have it—for as long as he wanted it and her.
Chapter 18
It was a new start for their marriage. They slept in the barn that evening, and in the morning, began to make their new home habitable—Summer cleaning and sweeping while Lance repaired the roof and sagging shutters and hauled their belongings in.
The cabin that John Weston had built for his family twenty-five years before sat facing the creek, the farthest west of all the ranch buildings. The dwelling actually consisted of two log structures joined by a common room, with a breezeway in between and a gallery extending across the front. The half now used for storage was crammed with old furniture and equipment, but the other half had two serviceable rooms that would serve as a bedchamber and a kitchen/parlor/living area.
“It isn’t nearly as nice as the big house,” Summer told Lance apologetically as she stood back to view their efforts on the exterior.
“It’ll have to do till I can build you something better,” he returned gruffly, setting a wicker rocker down on the front porch.
Realizing he had misinterpreted her remark, Summer wiped her sweating brow and sent him an exasperated frown. “That isn’t what I meant at all, Lance Calder. I only meant that I’m sorry you have to live here instead of up at the big house. Heavens, you’re as prickly as a cactus.”
His stiff features seemed to relax, and he gave her a rueful grin. “Okay, so maybe I overreacted.”
“I think perhaps you did.”
“Sorry, princess.”
Lance hitched a hip up on the porch rail as he gazed out over the yard. Joining him on the porch, Summer sank wearily into the rocker, grateful for the chance to rest. She didn’t remember much about living here in this house, since they’d moved when she was eight, but the memories she had were fond ones. And by many settlers’ standards, the cabin was luxurious. Besides spaciousness, it offered privacy and a pretty setting, with redbuds and persimmon bushes dotting the yard, and wild plum trees and mustang grapevines covering the sandy banks of the creek.
“I think we’ll like it here,” she mused aloud.
“It’s a lot nicer than the place I grew up in back in Austin,” Lance agreed.
At his quiet admission, Summer remembered what he had told her about his childhood, about the terrible way his mother had been forced to exist. They had lived in poverty, outcasts from society, enduring hardships she herself had never known. She had been raised in comfort, never experiencing want or need. Even now, when she likely faced social ostracism for marrying a half-breed, she wouldn’t have to whore in order to survive.
No, Summer reminded herself, Lance had good reason to be touchy about his past. She would just have to make allowances for his lingering hostility, while trying to prove to him she was on his side.
“This’ll do fine, princess,” she heard him say absently. “At least till I can build us a real house.”