Duncan Alexander stood up and rapped his fork against his empty coffee cup. “This calls for a wee nip of good Scots whisky.”
“Scots?!” Kevin roared. “For an Irishman’s engagement?”
“Well,” Duncan conceded, laughing, “the boy”—he looked at Reese—“likes brandy, so he might have a bottle of inferior Irish whiskey tucked away somewhere next to that poisonous French brew.”
Chapter Twenty-four
“Well, are you terribly embarrassed about it?” Temperance asked Faith as they sat stitching on baby clothing on the front porch of the Trail T. “Because, your Aunt Virt is just going to have a conniption when I write her about it.”
“Of course I’m not embarrassed about your marrying Kevin. It’s been nearly three months now. Why worry about what Aunt Virt thinks? She’s two thousand miles away.”
“Faith Elizabeth Collins,” Temperance said, “have you heard a single word I’ve said?” She followed Faith’s gaze to the corral where several of the men, including Reese, were branding the last of the summer calves.
“You asked if I was embarrassed about…” Faith wrinkled her brow in frustration, trying to remember Tempy’s exact words.
“Well, go on,” Tempy prodded. “What did I say?” Tempy smiled a knowing smile. “You can’t tell me because you don’t know. The whole time I was confiding in you, you were busy lusting after Reese.”
Faith blushed to the roots of her ebony hair. “Tempy!”
“Don’t Tempy me. It’s true.” She placed her sewing into her basket and reached over to pat Faith’s hand. “And don’t look so embarrassed. It’s perfectly natural. I lust after Kevin all the time. In fact, I’ve done it so much since we’ve been married that I think”—she lowered her voice to a mysterious whisper—“I might be pregnant.”
“What?” Faith sat up in her chair, giving Temperance her undivided attention. “Are you certain?”
“Not entirely.” Temperance laughed softly. “But I’ll be sure to have the doctor examine me completely after I break the news.”
Faith giggled. “You haven’t told him?”
“I don’t know how to tell him.”
Faith looked at her aunt. Temperance was glowing with health and happiness. She looked years younger than her age, while Faith, glancing down at her own protruding abdomen, felt tired and fat and old. At nearly seven months, she had lost her gracefulness, and she feared, any attraction Reese had felt for her.
She turned back to Tempy. “I’m sure you’ll find a way.”
“Just as I’m certain you’ll find a way to tell Reese.”
“Tell Reese what?” Faith asked, curious as to where Tempy was leading the conversation. “He already knows I’m expecting. It was part of the deal.”
“But he doesn’t know you love him. As I recall, that wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Am I that transparent?” Faith didn’t bother to deny the truth.
“Only to those who know you well,” Tempy assured her. “And I’ve known you since the day you were born.”
“Just as I hope you’ll know my baby.” Faith turned to her beloved aunt. “Tempy, I’ve made a terrible mistake. I can’t do it. I can’t give up Reese, my baby, and you. I can’t go back to Richmond alone.”
“I don’t think you’ll have to.” Tempy spoke her thoughts aloud.
Faith turned her attention back to the man in the corral. A calf bawled its displeasure as Reese branded its left hindquarter, singeing the hair, burning the teardrop-shaped mark into the calf’s tender hide. She marveled at the calf’s ability to recover so quickly. Reese had left a similar, if invisible, mark on her, and Faith doubted she would ever recover.
“He doesn’t love me,” she admitted aloud for the first time.
“I think he does,” Tempy told her. “Kevin thinks so, too.”
“He hasn’t touched me since I fainted at his party.” Faith folded the baby gown she’d finished embroidering and set it aside.
“Do you want him to touch you?” Tempy’s clear gray gaze seemed to bore into Faith’s. Her brows were pulled together in a frown.