His Brother's Bride by Denise Hunter

skirts like a cat clinging to a tree. He was right, she knew that now. She never should have taken Adam into the cave. She wouldn’t have, if only she’d been aware of the risks. Still, it had been an innocent mistake.
    â€œAnd it was irresponsible. If you can’t take care of him proper-like, maybe I need to find someone else.” He turned toward the fireplace, but she heard him muttering, “Gallivanting all over the countryside. . .”
    If you can’t take care of him proper-like . A bubble of heat welled up in her stomach. Hadn’t she taken good care of Adam for weeks now? Hadn’t she loved him like her own son? She’d taught him, played with him, nurtured him, and now he was accusing her of being a neglectful mother?
    He continued muttering to the mantel. “A mistake all along. Should’ve sent her packing that day.”
    Deep within her, the rolling heat gave birth to an inferno. How dare he criticize her when she’d kept her end of the bargain! She’d cared for his son, done all the daily chores, cooked his meals, washed his clothes, cleaned up his messes, and what had she gotten in return? Nothing, that’s what! She’d made all the sacrifices; he’d gained all the privileges, just like Mara had said. He had gotten all he wanted from her yet he had denied her the desire of her heart. He had denied her children.
    â€œHow dare you.” Her voice sounded deep and harsh in the quiet of the room. Somehow, she’d come to her feet.
    â€œI have cared for Adam like he was my own. Don’t you dare say I have neglected that child.” Her eyes stung with the fervency of her feelings for Adam. “I made a mistake today. A mistake. Am I not entitled to one every now and again?” Her voice quivered as it grew louder. “But I would never do anything to endanger that child.
    â€œI have done nothing but wait on you, hand and foot. I have washed your clothes, cooked your food, mended your garments. . . .” She picked up the sewing basket and threw it at his feet.
    His expression was laced with surprise, though his planted feet didn’t budge.
    â€œAnd what have I gotten in return? You have denied me the joy of ever holding my own child in my arms. Never mind that you didn’t even tell me this before I married you! And now I’ll never have a child of my own, never!” He blurred in front of her, and she knew her eyes had filled with tears. Her throat ached, and her stomach felt hollow. She turned from him, crossing her arms, feeling suddenly exposed and strangely relieved. It was all true, and why shouldn’t he know it? He was being selfish and cruel.
    She didn’t know he stood behind her until she felt him touch her shoulder.
    Every muscle in her body tensed. His touch was gentle yet strong, and she hated the way it made her heart lurch.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said.
    His voice sounded in her ear, and suddenly she realized how close he was. She could feel the heat of his body.
    â€œI lost my temper. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
    As he spoke, the curls on her nape whispered softly against her skin, sending gooseflesh up and down her arms.
    â€œYou never told me about wanting a child.”
    It was true, she hadn’t. But didn’t every woman want children? He should have known.
    His hand squeezed the flesh of her arm, and heat kindled there. “I wasn’t thinking straight that day on the stage. All those people watching. . . I just didn’t know how to say it.”
    Her lips trembled, and she put a hand against them.
    He turned her around and her heart caught. His broad chest was inches from her face, and she focused on one of the pearly buttons on his shirt. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze, though she felt it as sure as a touch. She closed her eyes, then felt his hand on her chin, tipping it up.
    When she opened her eyes, his gaze burned into hers, and her