"H-how long have we been out here?" she asked, not looking at him.
"About ten minutes."
"Oh." Addie's distress lessened. It had seemed much longer to her. But she continued to frown, brushing helplessly at the wisps. of hay clinging to her dress until Ben lifted her chin with his fingers and smiled down at her.
"No one heard anything," he said flatly. "Or saw. I kept an eye open, just in case."
Addie blushed. "Then what you said…”
"All for your benefit. "
She was too relieved by his answer to scold him for his arrogance. "I wasn't loud?" she asked, and he pulled her close, bewitched by her curious mixture of modesty and abandon.
"I kept you very quiet," he whispered conspire-atorially, and her shoulders sagged.
"I should be mad at you."
"For what? Didn't it feel good?"
"I… Yes, it felt… But that's not the point."
"Forgive my lack of understanding, but what is the point?" Though he sounded grave, she knew he was laughing at her silently.
"It was different from before. It wasn't romantic, or serious, or-"
"It doesn't always have to be serious between us."
His lips wandered across her cheek. "Sometimes it can just be fun."
"But that's not how I think of it," she said, her brow wrinkling. Fun? Lovemaking between two people who cared for each other wasn't supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be tender, loving, emotional. If they loved each other, it should mean something more than fun, shouldn't it?
"How can you think of it just one way?" Ben countered. "It's going to be different all the time. Sometimes it'll be romantic… gentle… and sometimes a little…' He paused and searched for a tactful word."… earthier. Some-times we'll be tender. And sometimes we'll play. What's wrong with that?"
As he saw she still was uncertain, he cradled her face in his hands and smiled down at her. "I understand. You like candlelight and romance, and God knows there's nothing wrong with that. But you'd get tired of that if you had it all the time." He grinned and pulled a few wisps of hay out of her hair. "You have to admit, moonlit nights and haystacks have their own particular charm."
"I guess they do."
"You guess?" His eyes twinkled. "What would it take to make you absolutely sure?"
Addie stared at him, relishing the warmth of his hands on her cheeks, the sheen of moonlight on his hair. He looked handsome and pagan in the darkness, mysterious and untamable. Her lover. Someday her husband. She wanted a lifetime with him. She wanted to hold him to her with every bond and word, every intimacy that two people could exchange. Her feelings for him were stronger, more terrifying than she had ever imagined they could be. Her hands came up to cover the backs of his, clasping tightly.
"I love you, Ben."
She felt the tremor in his hands. It took a moment for him to understand. Then his eyes traveled over her face, as if he were trying to assure himself she had spoken the truth.
"God, I've wanted you to say that." He lowered his head and kissed her roughly, unable to restrain his passion.
9
DURING THE NIGHT THE FENCING AROUND THE southeast pasture was destroyed and the line riders near the area attacked by a band of men they couldn't identify. Every strand of wire was cut in several places, every fencepost ripped clear out of the ground. The sound of gunshots was faint but distinct, and the crackling noise awakened Addie and the rest of the Warners. Addie fumbled in her room for a nightgown and robe, sleepy but profoundly grateful that Ben had left her a little while ago. Had he stayed with her just a half-hour longer, he would have been caught in her room. That wasn't something she wanted to explain her way through just yet.
There were exclamations and rapid footsteps up and down the hallway. Addie opened her door cautiously, rubbing her eyes. Russell had already gotten dressed and was heading down the stairs, while Cade emerged from his room with his shirt buttons fastened in the wrong places.'
"What's happening?" Addie asked, and Russell ignored her as he went down the stairs hollering for Ben in a voice that must have carried halfway across the ranch. Cade raked a hand through his hair, causing it to stand up in a light brown shock. He shrugged as he met her eyes.
"Those were gunshots," she said, biting her lower lip. "Weren't they?"
Cade looked eager and worried at the same time. "Betcha it's about the fence." He followed Russell in leaps and bounds, his feet thumping noisily on the stairs. Peter, always a slow riser, appeared at his doorway and followed, while Caroline regarded him with a frown.
"Be careful," she said to her husband, but he seemed not to hear her. After he disappeared through the front door Caro and Addie exchanged a bemused glance. Unspoken thoughts hung in the air as they wondered how serious the trouble was, and what would happen next.
"What time is it?" Caro asked. "I guess about two or three."
"Mama's already in the kitchen making coffee. Help me downstairs, Adeline."
Caro leaned heavily on her arm as they went down the steps, less out of physical necessity than a need for emotional support. Neither of them could think of a thing to say. There was no need to state the obvious. Most probably the trouble involved the Double Bar. The gunshots hadn't been far away, and the family had been expecting an attack of this kind. Men were banding together and cutting fences in a wide sweep through central Texas, either on their own initiative or because they were hired by belligerent ranches. War hadn't been formally declared, but there was no other way to describe the state of affairs between the Warners and the Johnsons.
"I hope it's over," Addie said grimly as Caro made her way down the last two or three steps.
"You hope what's over?"
"The gunfire. Right now they're heading straight for it, Daddy and the rest of them. Men are so foolhardy with guns in their hands. I just hope no one's been hurt. I can't stand the thought of… " She bit her lip and gripped Caro's hand tightly.
"You're thinkin' about Ben, aren't you?"
Addie was too distracted to hide her feelings. "They always depend on him to do everything," she burst out. "Even Daddy-whenever there's any trouble or danger, 'have Ben do it, have Ben take care of it.' Ben has to watch out for everyone else, but who watches out for him? He's only human, he's not indestructible, and I… " She sighed with frustration. "Oh, I don't know-"
"He can take care of himself. Don't worry 'bout him. "
"He'll be the first one to arrive on the scene, riding straight into whatever hornet's nest has been stirred up. Oh, Daddy likes to think of himself as the one in charge, but we all know Ben'll be the one who has to pick up the pieces or make the next move. "
"That's the kind of man he is. Cade and Peter are the kind who have to be guided and prompted. But Ben is someone that others just naturally follow. You wouldn't want him to be any different, would you?"
No. But I don't want to lose him. And there was a fear in Addie's heart that she couldn't explain to anyone. A fear that she had a large price to pay for her past mistakes. Time had given her a chance to atone for the kind of person she had once been. But what if more was going to be demanded of her? What if she was denied the life with Ben she wanted so desperately?
They went to the kitchen and sat at the table with May, who looked calm but fatigued, while outside the house came the sounds of abrupt, sleepy-voiced conversations. The bunkhouse had awakened. Minutes ticked away, then an hour had passed, and as Addie paced around the silent kitchen, tension clawed at her nerves.
"How long do you think they'll be?" she asked curtly, knowing neither of them could answer the question any better titan she could. Still, she had to talk about something or go crazy.
"There's no way of tellin'," May replied, methodically stirring her tea. "Why don't you sit and have somethin' to drink, sugar?"