Honor Bound(57)

When he returned to the kitchen, she had dinner set on the table, which was covered now with one of her tablecloths and set with her dishes and cutlery.

He didn't say a word either about that or any of the other furnishings as he sat down and began to eat, virtually shoveling the food into his mouth. "What's that noise?" he asked after a moment.

"The washing machine."

"Washing machine?"

"Uh-huh. And the dryer," she said breezily. "Tony goes through so many clothes. It will be such a relief not to have to drive into town every few days to the Laundromat. I was dreading those trips this winter, carrying Tony out in the cold."

Just as she had expected, Lucas glanced at Tony. She had set the baby's carrier on the table where he could hear their voices and be a part of the mealtime activity. Lucas seemed to weigh the advantages of having a washing machine and dryer under his roof and said nothing more.

One of the knots in Aislinn's chest eased considerably. "Having the nursery set up again is going to be wonderful," she ventured as she spooned another helping of potatoes onto Lucas's plate. "I won't have to worry about him rolling off the edge of something. Have you noticed how active he's getting?" She blotted her mouth with her napkin and coyly lowered her lashes over her eyes. "And he won't have to sleep between us anymore."

She saw Lucas hesitate as he raised his fork to his mouth. He chewed and swallowed that bite, then pushed his plate away. "I've got work to do." He left the table abruptly.

"But I made a pie for dessert."

"Maybe later."

Crestfallen, she watched his broad shoulders disappear through the doorway. She supposed she should be glad that they hadn't engaged in a battle royal over the furniture, but she was disappointed that he was so anxious to leave the table and her company, especially when she had just broached the subject of their sleeping arrangements.

Since they had moved into the house, Tony had, out of necessity, been sleeping in the bed with them. But Aislinn doubted that his tiny presence was the reason Lucas hadn't touched her since that morning at Alice's house. If they weren't in open dispute over something, he treated her with indifference. Rarely, if ever, did he look at her. When he did, it certainly wasn't with smoldering desire.

Not that she wanted him, she averred, as she readied Tony for bed. Still, the house was miles from their nearest neighbor. The nights were lonely. Lucas usually left right after a hurried breakfast. Often she wouldn't see him again until he came in for dinner. With only Tony for company all day, she looked forward to conversation with another adult. But Lucas remained taciturn.

She had grown up in a house where she had been discouraged from voicing an opinion or expressing herself. She didn't intend to live the rest of her life shrouded in silence. Stubbornly she decided to take the bull by the horns and not let Mr. Greywolf get away with his sulking.

She left Tony to sleep in his crib for the first time in weeks. A half-hour later, she carried a tray into the living room. Lucas was sitting on the sofa with papers spread out around him and spilling over onto the coffee table. He was making notes in a black notebook.

Aislinn went unnoticed until she switched on a lamp at his elbow. He raised his head and looked up at her. "Thanks."

"That should help you see better. How can you read without a light?"

"I didn't notice."

She thought he probably didn't want to use "her" lamp even though he was sitting on "her" sofa, but she refrained from commenting. "I brought your pie and fresh coffee," she said. She had set the tray on the end table.

"What kind?"

"Kind?"

"Of pie."

"Apple. Do you like apple?"

"I learned not to be too choosy in prison."

"Then why did you ask?" she snapped.

Ignoring her, he scarfed down the slice of pie in record time. She chided herself for not being more conscientious about his sweet tooth. Apparently it hadn't been satisfied in a long time. From now on she would see to it that every meal included dessert.

When he finished with his pie, he set the plate aside and bent back over his paperwork. "Is that ranching business?" she asked.

"No, a court record. My client…" he paused on the term, because he actually couldn't have clients any longer, "he, uh, wants to know if he should appeal the outcome of a lawsuit."

"Should he?"

"I think so."

She watched him make another brief notation in his tablet, then said, "Lucas, I want to talk to you."

He laid his tablet and pen aside and reached for his cooling coffee. "What about?"

She sat in the corner of the sofa and tucked her feet underneath her hips. "I had my camera equipment sent up with the furniture. I'm anxious to start using it again." Fiddling with the fringe on a throw pillow, she drew a deep breath. "And I was wondering what you would think of my converting the old trailer into a darkroom."

His eyes swiveled toward her and she rushed on before he could say anything. "It wouldn't take much redoing. The sink is already there, in the kitchen area. I could do most of the work myself. Think how convenient it would be to take pictures of Tony and have them developed right away, as many prints as we wanted. And I could make enlargements and—"