From This Day Forward - By Deborah Cox Page 0,72

decide what to do with it after that."

With a nod and a last frightened glance at Jason, Vincente quickly exited the room.

"You frightened Vincente," Caroline accused as soon as they were alone.

Jason shrugged. "He presumes too much. You may have every man on the fazenda under your spell, but there are some things I will not abide."

"Vincente is just a boy," she reasoned.

"Boy or not, I will not tolerate anyone interfering between me and my wife."

A thrill raced up her spine at the possessiveness in his words. Perhaps he cared more than he was willing to admit, or was he only protecting his property as he would have done with anything else he owned?

"Why didn't you just have them take the pump off the boat before you left Manaus?" she asked, steering the conversation onto safer ground.

"How could I?" Jason reasoned, pushing away from the wall. "I'd have damaged Senhor Aveiro's credibility. The next time he ordered something from that company, I'd have to vouch for him. And word would get around to the other merchants I deal with. You put me in an untenable position."

"I'm sorry." But she wasn't sorry, not really. She was right. Why couldn't he admit it? And why did she get the impression that he was only using the water pump as a diversion from whatever was really bothering him? "This isn't about the pump at all, is it?"

"How long did it take you to master Aveiro's signature?" he asked, ignoring her question. "You're really good at forgery. Maybe you should become a criminal.''

"I thought I was doing the right thing. I still believe so. Why are you so angry? I'm the one who should be angry. You were gone far longer than necessary. When the pump quit, Luis wasn't here to repair it. It took two men to operate the hanci pump. We were already short workers because of the men you'd taken with you to Manaus, men who should have been back more than a month before they finally returned. There was coffee ready to be picked and no way to keep it from ruining once it was in the beneficio. If I'd waited for you to return, we would have lost half of this year's crop."

"We? There is no we. This is my fazenda, not ours. I don't need your help. I don't want your help. Your meddling has cost me a fortune."'

Again his cruel words hit their mark, causing tears to well behind her eyes. Again she fought them down and faced him squarely. "You cannot expect to be successful if you hoard every penny you make. Surely you realize that you have to reinvest some of your money in the plantation or it cannot operate. Why don't you tell me why you're really so angry? It's me, it's not the pump at all."

"I don't spend money unnecessarily. And I don't need you telling me how to run my business. I did quite well before you came and I can continue to do so without any interference from you."

He stalked away toward the open door. He'd just arrived, and already he was running away from her, and he hadn't even asked why she was still there or if she was pregnant.

"What are you going to do? You don't have a bookkeeper," she asked, even though it was the last thing she wanted to talk about.

"I'll send Ignacio to Manaus to find someone."

"And in the meantime?"

"That's not your concern. I'll deal with it."

"Jason!" she called desperately.

"What now?" he snapped, turning with a scowl of absolute annoyance.

Caroline opened her mouth, but the words wouldn't come out. Two simple words—I'm pregnant—two words that would alter their lives forever, and she couldn't say them.

"Nothing," she said, dropping her gaze to the desk before her.

Just go, she thought, run away again. Leave me alone.

She glanced up and her breath caught, her chest tightening. He was still there, staring at her with such an expression of longing and fear that she knew in that instant that somehow he'd guessed the truth.

His eyes met hers and her legs went weak before he disguised his yearning with anger and turned to go, slamming the door resoundingly behind him.

Sinking into the soft leather chair, Caroline buried her head in her hands and gave in to the torrent of tears she'd held at bay for so long.

* * *

Caroline allowed the notes of the etude she'd been playing to float softly away until the parlor settled into silence. The sound of

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