Harvest Moon (Borrowed Brides 2)

He introduced himself, offered her his handkerchief, and asked her what she was doing outside in a downpour.

Caroline Millen had kept his handkerchief and skillfully avoided answering his questions. He had known something was wrong when he offered to drive her home, but he hadn’t known how wrong.

David had found out a month later when Senator Millen barged into his town house, waving David’s linen handkerchief and demanding satisfaction.

Pregnant and frightened, Caroline Millen had named him as the father of her child.

He tried to explain that he’d come across Caroline crying in an alley behind the theater, but the senator wasn’t listening to explanations. His daughter was ruined, and someone was going to pay.

David had paid. He’d told the truth and he’d paid for it. He wasn’t the baby’s father. He didn’t love Caroline, didn’t even know her, and he absolutely refused to marry her.

But Warner Millen would have none of that. David would marry his daughter or be damned.

David refused, knowing that in the end Caroline, too, would regret such a marriage.

He should have known better than to cross the influential Washington politician. Senator Millen had the power to ruin him and he used it. The scandal had cost David his career, his social standing in Washington, and his reputation. He’d paid a high price for his principles, but Caroline had paid an even higher one.

After being sent away from Washington and her family, she’d given birth to a healthy baby girl, but lost her life in the process. And the baby…

David closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to ward off the throbbing. When he learned the Millens had refused to accept their grandchild, David had tried to find her, but the Millens blocked him at every turn. They buried their daughter and her indiscretions along with her. And they allowed the baby to be sent to an orphanage.

Caroline had insisted on naming the child Lily Catherine Alexander, and the thought of a child bearing his name, growing up in an orphanage, thinking she was unwanted, haunted David.

He’d made every attempt to find her—had spent the past year writing letters, making inquiries… David frowned. He’d done everything except marry Ca

roline Millen. And it hadn’t been enough. Looking back on it now, he thought perhaps he should have made her his wife, but he’d been angry, hurt. At the time, he’d felt that marrying Caroline would be the same as admitting he seduced her. David hadn’t been ready to do that. He was innocent. He didn’t want to be named as a seducer of young girls or manipulated into a loveless marriage. So he had placed his pride above the welfare of an unborn baby, and he regretted it. He’d regretted it since the day he learned of the little girl’s birth.

Lily Catherine wasn’t his child, but that no longer mattered to him. He wanted her.

Why hadn’t he stolen her away, as Tessa had taken Coalie? Why hadn’t he done something besides wallow in self-pity? Why hadn’t he taken care of them? He squeezed his eyes shut trying to forget.

“David?” He opened his eyes and found Tessa standing over him. “Are you going after him?”

For a moment, before he realized she was talking about Coalie, David thought Tessa had read his mind.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” David answered, “or unless we need him for the hearing.”

“I’d rather he stayed where he is for now,” Tessa replied softly. She’d miss him. She missed him already, but for the time being, Coalie was better off at the ranch. She was sure of it.

“All right,” he agreed, thinking not just of Coalie but of the little girl in the orphanage. “But only for a while longer.”

Chapter Thirteen

Coalie’s empty chair stood out like a beacon at supper that night. Tessa’s gaze returned to the chair time and time again. It was also a very visible reminder that, with Coalie gone, she was alone with David Alexander. Very alone. That made her nervous. Jumpy. If only he would stop watching her. He’d watched her all evening the way Greeley studied a mouse before pouncing.

Tessa pushed her chair back from the table and abruptly stood up. She picked up her empty plate, then held out her hand for his. “Are you finished?”

“Yes.” David offered her his plate.

She practically snatched it out of his hand, then carried the dishes to the sink and set them in the dishpan under the water spout. Tessa scraped a bar of soap over the grater, brushed the slivers into the dishpan, and pumped the handle up and down as hard as she could. The cold water gushed out, bounced off the plates, and splashed up, soaking the front of Tessa’s green dress. “Thunderation! See what you made me do?” She whirled around to face him.

David nearly choked on his coffee. The wet fabric clung to her chest. David could see the trail of tiny indentions across her breasts and knew it was the lace at the top of her chemise. Fully dressed as she was, the wet calico did nothing more than hint at what lay beneath the fabric, but it was a vivid reminder of Saturday’s bath ritual. The memory of her body silhouetted against the sheet tortured him.

He had to force his next words around the lump in his throat. “You should change your dress; you might catch cold.”

“And wash dishes in one of my brand-new dresses?” Tessa was appalled. “I will not!”

David finished his coffee and carried the cup to the sink. “Wouldn’t you like to try them on for size?”