Hope’s Child Page 6

  “I’ll keep her company,” Lyon said.

  The slender man bowed again. “Medication, of course. I should have known better. But you look wonderful, Ms. Harrell. It’s a blessing to still have you with us. I’ll tell Martin and he will get your drinks and take your order. Enjoy.”

  “Amen to the blessing part,” Lyon murmured once the dignified man was out of earshot.

  Hope leaned toward him, distressed. “Lyon, I should have known he would have seen the papers. The Dallas Morning News did a sizable story on Will. I’m sorry that I didn’t think to warn you as soon as you told me about the reservations.”

  “Never mind me, are you all right with this? It can’t be comfortable. We can leave.”

  “No. I wouldn’t do that to you and it wouldn’t be fair to Ivo and the others.” She just needed to keep her wits about her and not look too happy to be there with him.

  “There you go thinking of everyone but yourself again. I hate that you won’t relax now and enjoy yourself as you should have.”

  “We have the license, the rings, and we’ll have a delicious dinner. Our cup pretty much runs over.”

  “Did Will ever come here with you?”

  Having anticipated that question would be asked at some point, Hope realized that she didn’t want to deceive him. “We stopped for drinks once on our way back from a Cowboy game. They were playing his old team and Will was eager to extend the night as long as he could to celebrate the win he had nothing to do with. Needless to say, I drove us the rest of the way home and never brought him again. Ivo was kind to forgive me.”

  “You have a distinct fan in him.”

  “The affection is mutual.”

  Lyon lowered his gaze to the menu. “So if we’re staying, what do you recommend?”

  After some discussion, Lyon ordered the warm Texas Gulf shrimp cocktail for an appetizer, while she revisited the corn-crusted scallops and oysters on a stand fork with grain mustard mousseline. Next Lyon chose the house salad, although he was skeptical about what the manchego cheese was and whether he would like the sweet sherry vinegar-mango dressing.

  “That’s Spanish cheese, made from sheep’s milk instead of cows’,” Hope told him. When his expression grew wary, she coaxed, “A former farm boy can handle that.”

  “I could handle a wedge of iceberg lettuce doused with Thousand Island dressing topped by a couple of cherry tomatoes, too.”

  Hope chose the baby spinach with Roquefort dressing, spiced pecans and strawberries. Lyon discreetly begged some of the pecans and she shared but wished she could have fed them to him with her fork. So much for the fantasy of a romantic pre-wedding dinner.

  For their entree Lyon ordered the New York strip, while she had the lamb T-bone. Her meat was so thick she ended up giving him the entire rib portion and kept only the fillet.

  “Just don’t go around telling everyone back home that I prefer lamb to beef,” Lyon warned when she looked too tickled at how quickly he’d devoured his food. “If those cattle ranchers hear that, you and the Four Horsemen won’t be able to keep them from running me out of town.”

  “Until here, the best I’ve ever tasted was in The Pink Adobe in Santa Fe,” she told him. “I remember it was served with acorn squash and a black cherry sauce.” Here they’d served spinach and a goat cheese stack.

  “My mother would have liked that. She used all of the squashes.”

  “I’ll attempt to duplicate it for you when the weather cools.”

  The look he sent her left her as warm as the chiminea did that night, but the sense of being closely observed by the staff compelled Hope to keep her expression benign, and she and Lyon stuck to impersonal subjects after that—or remained silent when anyone was within hearing distance. The strain took its toll and Hope passed on dessert when Lyon asked what she would like. “If you don’t mind,” she added.

  “Not at all,” he replied before the waiter could reach them. “I’m ready to go, too. As lovely as you look framed by these surroundings, I prefer the company of the woman who took her shoes off in the car.”

  Hope coughed discreetly into her linen napkin to cover a chuckle. But once they were in the Mercedes and Lyon was pulling away from the valet station, she voiced her true feelings.

  “Did you at least enjoy the food? I’m so sorry this wasn’t the dinner you wanted for us.”

  “The food was terrific and any time spent with you can’t be a disappointment,” he assured her.

  How different he was from Will, she thought, although she disliked herself when she made comparisons. But Will’s compliments tended to become like cold cream—a little too thick, while Lyon’s she could accept with pleasure and not feel them linger uncomfortably between them. In fact, they weren’t on the Interstate but a minute or two when she not only slipped out of her shoes, she was struggling to stay awake.

  “This is crazy,” she said after stifling a series of yawns. “I’ve had no alcohol or sugar. Why am I about to fall asleep?”

  “I can think of a few reasons, not counting that you have a little package inside you gobbling up half of your energy. You’d better make that doctor’s appointment soon and ask what vitamins you need.”

  “That’s next on the list after the wedding.”

  “All the more reason to bump up the wedding. How does Tuesday sound for you?” At her startled glance, Lyon shrugged. “I have court on Monday, but it should be a one-day situation. Tuesday is free appointment-wise. I can either call a justice of the peace in Sherman or Gainesville. Both are sometime poker pals and would protect our privacy.”

  “Sherman,” she replied without hesitation. “That’s closer and we can get back sooner and have a celebratory dinner at the house.”

  “That’s not fair, you cooking on your wedding day—even if it isn’t a normal wedding.”

  “I told you, as much as I appreciate a good meal out on occasion, I’m a homebody at heart. I can prepare a few things in advance and you can grill the steaks in back while I finish up.”

  “That sounds better. I’ll pick up the steaks over the weekend—and bring a suitcase with what I’ll need to change into before we head off to Sherman.”

  “Perfect.”

  That was the last thing Hope remembered saying to him. The next thing she knew, she felt a warm caress on her cheek. When she opened her eyes, Lyon was leaning over and releasing her seat belt.

  “You’ll be more comfortable in your bed than spending the night in this car,” he told her.

  She glanced around and saw they were in her garage. All that time and noise of opening and shutting doors, too! “Good grief, Lyon! You shouldn’t have let me sleep the whole way.”

  “I didn’t mind. I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to sleep around me.”

  He was too dear to turn her rude behavior into a compliment. “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee…or drink now that you’re so close to home?” she asked as she got out and searched in her purse for her keys.

  Lyon beat her to it using the keys she’d already given him, just as he’d used his own gate and garage door openers. “No thanks, I’m good. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to make sure everything in the house is okay.”

  Hope didn’t mind at all. She’d confessed that she didn’t use her security system now that she had Tan and Molly around. Molly could forget about the alarm and it had upset her greatly once when she walked in and forgot how to turn it off. Although she could rely on Tan to keep an eye on the house during the day, by now he and Molly were in bed.

  By the time he returned, Hope had placed her purse and shoes in her room and left her jacket on the chair by the closet. He took the small jeweler’s bag from his pocket and set it on the kitchen counter.

  “It’s probably safer here than in an apartment that I’m rarely at,” he said.

  “I’ll put it in the safe,” she replied. “You’re sure I can’t get you anything?”

  “A good-night kiss—and then you’d better get to be
d before you fall asleep again this time while standing up.”

  When he lowered his head, clearly intending to kiss her cheek, Hope turned her head so that his lips met hers. His eyes opened and looked into hers, and then he slowly kissed her again. His lips grew firmer against hers and Hope felt something like champagne bubbles rush through her veins.

  “Sweet dreams,” he murmured against her lips.

  “You, too.”

  When he closed the door quietly behind him, Hope leaned against the counter and covered her flat tummy with her hands. “Oh, baby,” she whispered. “That was all the dessert Mommy needed.”

  On their wedding day, Lyon woke instantly alert and wishing it was already afternoon. When he’d called Ed Viney over in Sherman last Friday morning, the justice of the peace had enthusiastically said, “Marry you to Harrell’s girl? And he doesn’t know? Get over here! That’ll be such a treat, I’m waiving my fee.”

  The support was more than welcome considering that Ellis had tried to get Hope over to the ranch on Saturday night to play hostess for what he described as a “friendly little dinner party.” It turned out that one of the guests was to be Jack Nolan, who just happened to be one of Austin’s most eligible bachelors. Hope declined and Lyon—having brought over that suitcase and several boxes of his things—got to hear Ellis’ volcanic response even from several feet away. He’d known Ellis had a temper but never imagined he would treat a daughter and only child that way. It was all he could do not to take the phone from Hope and give the big bully a long overdue scare. In fact, Hope moved to the other side of the kitchen bar to make sure he didn’t.

  “Next time you suspect this wedding is only to help you keep your job, remember that call,” she told him after hanging up. “I know Jack Nolan a bit, and he would be like Will—placate my father to avoid the tirades.”

  Lyon looked from the phone back to her taking a moment to keep the fury out of his voice. “Once you’re wearing my ring, I’d better not hear him tearing you like that again, or he’ll be cooling off in a holding cell.”

  “You couldn’t arrest him for bellowing like one of his cranky bulls,” she replied with some anxiety.

  “You’re pregnant,” he reminded her again. “You’re carrying his grandchild. Would you have me wait for you to miscarry?”

  After that call, a herd of feral hogs couldn’t force him to leave her except when she was ready to turn in for the night. Hope made them a pizza from scratch, which they ate outside on the patio watching hummingbirds do dive-bomber acrobatics as they tried to claim one of the four feeders as their very own. Later they walked the twenty acres, chatted with Tan and Molly, and treated the horses to slices of apple. Lyon hadn’t felt so content and aware of spring’s promise since he was waiting for his high school senior year to start—and getting his driver’s license and first car.

  And now it was Tuesday and he was about to take himself a wife. He liked the old fashioned phrasing. It reminded him of how his mother and her people would speak. They were all gone now and he had been alone and lonely for too long. Saying I do would change that.

  “I do,” he said flinging back the sheet and launching out of bed. With a satisfied smile he began a mental list of everything he had to do before two o’clock when he was scheduled to meet Hope at her place.

  Hours later, after Ted Pettigrew’s call to the department because someone had knifed all four of his car’s tires—perhaps because his next Letters to the Editor column showed nothing close to “fair and balanced”—and after Ellis called complaining that a fifteen-thousand-dollar bull had been painted black and white like a skunk, Lyon made it to Hope’s cozy haven. When he pulled into the third garage and saw that her Mercedes was there and the hardwood door was open for him, he felt an instant sense of homecoming.

  “Hi, honey, I’m home,” he called cheerfully hoping she’d heard none of the nonsense going around town and would be amused.

  She emerged immediately from her room wearing a short, white satin robe with her hair up in a towel. “Are you all right?”

  “Sure. I’m not late, am I?”

  “Don’t put on a front for me, Lyon. I heard about Pettigrew’s tires and my father’s bull.”

  “Since you didn’t call me, I hoped you were buried in work and missed the commotion.”

  “The tire thing maybe…if Ted hadn’t called my office and threatened that if he got one inkling of evidence that I was somehow behind that—”

  “He did what?” Lyon interjected. “Why blame you?”

  “The real reason? Because I joined Gus in protest and cancelled my ongoing ad in the paper, too. But you know Pettigrew, he would never come out and say that. He claims someone saw a lemon-yellow VW on the street where the paper’s offices are located on the night of the alleged attack. Guess whose assistant drives a lemon-yellow VW?”

  “Freddie.” Fredericka Darlington was forty-something-year-old divorcée who wore drab clothes, sensible shoes, and seemed to never speak unless asked a direct question. The idea that Freddie would drive such a youthful, fun car, let alone be part of something so violent had Lyon shaking his head. “Did you ask her if she was involved?”

  “Of course not. The post office is diagonally across the street. She goes there for me at least three times a day, often more. She has every right to be there.” Hope pulled off the towel and fluffed her hair that she’d protected from the shower water. Then she blotted her face with the towel. “What I did do is ask for Ted’s witness’ name, which is supposed to be supplied upon request. Needless to say he demurred.”

  “Knowing how few friends he has, I’ll bet he has his mother write the letters.” But tired of Pettigrew interfering with their day, Lyon gave her a head-to-toe admiring look. “Interesting wedding dress…although I’m not sure I’m eager for anyone else to see it.”

  “Very funny. Bet I’m ready before you are,” she said with all of the dignity her petite frame could muster.

  She did beat him, too. When Lyon returned to the kitchen, she was already there and her lace-covered satin sheath made him stop in mid-step. “Stunning,” he murmured.

  “Thank you, but this bracelet has to come off,” she said turning her back to him at the same time she tried to brush her hair to the side. “See this?”

  “What?” he asked coming to her.

  “My bracelet is hung on my dress.”

  “Hold still,” he said carefully getting the fine threads freed from a bit of gold wire here and a hook there. When she was totally freed, he leaned closer and touched his lips to her nape. “Almost as good as new. There’s just a tiny bit of threading pulled out of its weave.”

  “Thank you,” she said again, this time more breathlessly.

  She looked like she belonged on top of a cake and, yet, Lyon thought belatedly, they weren’t even going to have a cake. She was being badly shortchanged on what should have been the happiest day of her life. Even those diamond and pearl earrings that matched the bracelet looked like serious heirlooms. They made him embarrassed for his simple band and he thought that he wasn’t just marrying an heiress, he was marrying a goddess.

  “Love the suit,” she said taking in his newest purchase.

  The gray silk had already been purchased for her wedding when he decided that he couldn’t be the best man. He never got around to telling Will that and he saw no wisdom in explaining the particulars to Hope either. He simply said, “Glad you like it. If you’re ready, we’d better get the rings and go.”

  He didn’t want to hear his inner voice tell him to offer her a last chance to back out. Seeing her like this—radiant, her glossy hair almost as bright as her dark eyes, her perfect skin glowing—he had never wanted anyone more.

  When they were westbound on the highway, Lyon noticed Hope fingering her small leather clutch purse a few times and smooth her skirt once too often. “Nervous?”

  “No…well, maybe a little.” She glanced toward him. “You?”

  “Not a bit, unless you make
a sudden grab for the doorknob.”

  She gasped and covered her tummy. “No worry about that. I’m just hoping you won’t end up regretting this…or resenting me.”

  “Don’t waste your time.”

  When they entered the outskirts of Sherman, Lyon pulled into a parking lot of a small strip mall and stopped in front of a flower shop. “Back in a minute.”

  “Oh, really?” Hope gave him a bemused smile. “What did you do?”

  “Well, what’s a wedding without flowers?”

  He returned as quickly as promised carrying a bouquet of delicate, red tea roses framed by white lace.

  Hope gasped, “How exquisite!” as she accepted the token. She lowered her face to the blossoms for several seconds. “Lyon, this is simply perfect.”

  He simply smiled, pleased that he had managed to make the occasion a little more special. She would have no family or friends. He hoped she understood that he knew what this was costing her.

  At the courthouse, Lyon parked in the rear as Ed Viney directed and were met at the entryway by his secretary, who led them to his office. Grinning broadly, Ed shook Lyon’s hand and kissed Hope’s cheek. “My! I hope you two know how pleased I am to do this,” he said.

  His enthusiasm was contagious and Hope’s smile deepened. “We appreciate you and your staff’s time and discretion.”

  Ed was so committed to this little covert operation, he brought them into his office where his wife stood with his secretary to act as their witnesses. “I’ll tell you how long I’ve know these two,” he said as he introduced them. “My wife is Connie, and her sister is Bonnie, and I always get their names turned around, but Bonnie hasn’t quit, and Connie hasn’t filed for a divorce.”

  Lyon had discussed the ceremony with Ed and without explaining anything personal asked for the simplest service. So the older man had barely begun before he was saying, “Under the power vested me, I now pronounce you man and wife.”

  He could kiss his bride.

  Looking down at her upturned face, calm, hopeful, so very lovely, Lyon framed her face with his hands and touched his lips to hers once, twice, and on the third time he kissed her wishing her to see his heart and offer him hers.