“I didn’t want to spend what should be yours. I just put the children to bed and promised Ivy I’d give her painting lessons once you had the money for paint. I’m in no position to tell you what to spend or not, but I think it should go to Ivy’s paint.”
Travis stuffed the money into his back pocket. “It means the world to hear you say that. It really does.” Then it hit him. He blinked and turned towards her. “You paint?”
Josie laughed softly. “You sound just like Ivy. I can’t believe it’sthathard to believe.”
Travis enjoyed seeing Josie laugh, especially when directed at him. There was something infectious about her joy, a brightness that made their tension feel lighter. The brilliance of her smile calmed Travis’s pulse in a way he hadn’t expected. Those lips of hers were the color of wild pink clover, and those sweet doe eyes made his chest swim with warmth. But the thought sent a chill through him.
“Travis, are you all right?’
Travis stood up abruptly. “I think it’s time for you to go,” he said, his tone sharper than he intended.
Josie gasped and jerked her head to the side, her shoulder slumped down. Travis’s brows raised. Why had she cowered at him once again? He crouched beside her. “Josie, are you all right? I didn’t mean to—”
Her wide eyes met his. The color drained from her face, leaving her pale and stricken. “I-Is it something I said? D-Did I push too far with promising painting lessons?”
Travis shook his head, trying to soften his words. He put his hand out but stopped himself. This wasn’t the time or place to touch her. “You didn’t offend me. It was a wonderful gesture that I am grateful for. It’s just I—” Travis scratched behind his ear and stood. “I can’t have you in here.”
Josie hung her head, twisting a strand of her hair. “I’m sorry again. I’m sorry for last night, too.”
Her voice was small, but it cut through him like a knife. He could see the weight of his tone bearing on her, and a pang of regret tugged him.
“It’s not your fault,” Travis said gently. “I want to give you the world, but . . . I can’t. Your duty must remain with the children.”
Josie stood slowly, her eyes finally meeting his. “I don’t want to know my husband. I want to know the children’s father. Why didn’t you come inside when the children and I were playing all afternoon and evening? You only stayed when Aunt Polly was here.”
Travis turned away, folding his arms over his body. She had noticed. However, he couldn’t explain himself. He wasn’t ready to talk about Sophie. He could share his life with Josie, but she wouldn’t share his past or grief. “I am not distant. I see my children every day. I wanted to give you time with them.”
“You are a good father, but when I’m there, you avoid me like a disease. How am I supposed to be a part of this family if you keep me at a distance? Why do that to your children?”
Despite her soft and timid tone, her words pierced him. Sleeping in the barn was a testament to that distance. He couldn’t play the happy married couple—not even with the children in their presence.
“Go, please,” Travis said stiffly. “Tell the children goodnight for me.”
Josie didn’t say a word as the sound of her footsteps echoed down the ladder. Travis sat in the silence that followed, unsure how he’d face her now. He was a coward. Such a coward that he couldn’t go inside his own house to say goodnight to his children.
Chapter Eleven
“Whatisthis?”Marcussneered. His eyes glared with fury as he held up Josie’s secret letter from Aunt Tia.
Josie gulped, thinking quickly and carefully about how to answer. With one slip up, history would repeat itself like the last three times. She had to be smart if she wanted this baby to live. Marcus may have taken her virtue and inheritance, but he wouldn’t take another unborn child’s life.
“Aunt Tia was asking me to visit,” Josie said in her meekly calm voice. “I thought you and I could go.”
Marcus stepped closer. The reek of alcohol still clung to his fetid breath. “I told you to cut ties with the old woman. Her mind isn’t sane enough to be in anyone’s company. She is an embarrassment, and I won’t have her ruin us.”
“Darling,” Josie said calmly, touching his forearm. “She’s my only relative. Shouldn’t we pay her a visit? I haven’t seen her since our wedding day. We wouldn’t want to offend my dear great aunt.”
Marcus jerked away and pointed in her face. “You’re a disgrace to this family to be writing to such a woman! You disobedient little wench! I should have an heir by now but you’re weak and pathetic!”
Josie tried to stay poised and calm her husband, but it was hard to help the man during his violent rages.
“I am sorry, sir,” she answered shakily, her eyes downcast. “I have tried my best.”
Marcus grabbed her hair and yanked it hard. His scarred eye bore into hers with a glaring intensity that sent a shiver crawling down her spine. “What shall I do with you, hm? You have disappointed me time and time again. I was promised four sons by now and you’ve given me weak ones, just like their mother.”
He yanked harder. Josie cried out as pain seared across her scalp—like her hair was being torn from the roots. His other hand moved to her throat; his fingers pinched her skin. “If I kill you now, no one would care. You have no one. I can tell everyone it was an accident.” His smile grew more sinister. “Or that you took your own life. Wouldn’t that be more believable?”
“Please,” Josie croaked. “I’ll do better. Please . . . Let me go. You don’t mean that.”
