She rose, walking closer to him. “I never stopped loving you either, Lloyd, and Father can’t stop me now from doing anything I want to do. All I’ve ever dreamed about since Stephen was born was us as a family. I hate it here in Chicago. I hate it anyplace where I can’t be with you.”
“We can’t just pick up where we left off, Beth. Too much has happened.”
She nodded. “I know. I’m so sorry for hurting you, Lloyd, but I did it for our son. Can you understand that?”
He searched her eyes, saw the same, sweet Beth he had loved so very much. “I said we couldn’t just pick up where we left off. That doesn’t mean we can’t kind of start new.”
She reached out and took hold of his hand. “I’d like to try, Lloyd. Can you stay a day or two? We have so much to talk about, and I’d like you to get to know Stephen.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that. Can I see him now?”
She smiled and squeezed his hand. “I’ll get him.”
She turned and left the room then, and Lloyd inhaled deeply with a mixture of passion and joy. He still wanted her, and he could tell by the look in her eyes she felt the same way. He had a feeling he would not be going back home without a wife on his arm. Better than that, he had a son! He was sorry for what Beth had suffered because they’d made love before marriage, but sometimes the result of sin could be something good and wonderful, and where was the sin when they knew how much they loved each other? The child was the result of that love, not of their wrongdoing.
Moments later, Beth came into the room leading a little boy by the hand. Lloyd was struck with the most stirring feelings of love and protectiveness he had ever felt in his life. There stood a beautiful little child with dark skin and dark hair and big, brown eyes. The boy watched him carefully as he came closer. Lloyd knelt in front of him. “Hello, Stephen,” he said.
“This is the man I told you about, Stephen,” Beth told him softly. “This is your real daddy.”
The boy pursed his lips and frowned, reaching out and touching Lloyd’s cheek with his finger. “My daddy,” he said matter-of-factly.
Lloyd understood now all the things Jake had told him about how it felt to be a father. He understood why Jake had been afraid to tell him about his past, afraid of losing his love.
He pulled the child into his arms. “My son,” he whispered. Oh, how well he understood!
Order Rosanne Bittner’s next book
in the Outlaw Hearts series
Do Not Forsake Me
On sale July 2015
Read on for a sneak peek from Do Not Forsake Me,
the sequel to Outlaw Hearts
Oklahoma, May 1892
With a reporter’s eye, Jeff Trubridge studied Marshal Jake Harkner as the man rode into Guthrie with four prisoners in tow, three of them looking mean but defeated, their faces bruised and battered. The fourth man was obviously dead, his body draped over a horse and wrapped in a blanket tied tightly with rope.
Harkner put two fingers to his lips and gave out a loud whistle.
“What’s that for?” Jeff asked a man standing next to him.
“The marshal always signals his wife when he’s comin’ in,” the man replied. “She always comes to greet him.”
Jake Harkner looked every bit like Jeff’s vision of a notorious outlaw turned United States marshal serving in the raw, new, and unorganized territory of Oklahoma. Oklahoma was ripe for men who preyed on Indians and settlers alike. It was a place where such men could hide in No Man’s Land, the name given to the western half of the territory because the government still couldn’t decide what to do with it. It was a place few men dared to tread…except for the likes of Jake Harkner, who was familiar with lawless country and lawless men.
Jeff savored the opportunity to observe Harkner without having to approach him directly…yet. He searched for the right words to describe the man who’d made a name for himself in all the wrong ways yet had become nothing short of a hero in the eyes of the common man. How did someone who was at one time so lawless and ruthless become so well liked?
Notorious reputation, he quickly scribbled on his ever-handy notepad. The way he carries himself—still a tall, slim, solid, hard-edged man with a look about him. What was that look? Danger. That was it. Like nitroglycerin—one wrong move and it explodes.
He liked that word. Nitroglycerin. Jeff carefully mingled into the crowd that followed the marshal toward the jailhouse. It was obvious some of them just wanted to be near Harkner so they could brag about knowing him. Fact was, Jeff wouldn’t mind having bragging rights himself, except his would be that he was the only man who’d convinced Jake Harkner to let him write a book about him. So far the man had refused all other requests to write his story, but Jeff was determined. Still, now that he saw the man in the flesh, his resolve was weakening.