Beloved Wolf (17 page)

Would it work? Was it possible? Frank had said nothing could disturb her hair, make any of the real
or fake curls fall. Meredith sat down in front of the mirror, gathered up the few hairpins Frank had left scattered on the top of the dressing table. Carefully, she lifted one large sculpted curl and slid the bottle into her teased hair, then secured the curl again with three nearly invisible hairpins.

She looked at her reflection, noticed nothing out of the ordinary and picked up the can of hair spray and misted it over her head. She waited, shook her head and shook her head again.

“Oh, yes, Frank, you were right. I most certainly
do
love this hair spray!” she said, then went in search of a drink.

 

“I still can't believe you did this,” Sophie said, looking around the bedroom from her vantage point—which happened to be the middle of the king-size bed she and River had just made such very good use of a few minutes earlier.

River propped himself up on one elbow and also looked at the room. Random planked hardwood floors, palest green wallpaper, sheer white curtains. A bedroom set made up of an antique cherry dresser he'd found in Prosperino, a chest of drawers with double doors that he'd finished himself, a glass-and-brass dressing table he had been pretty sure Sophie would like and, of course, that all-important king-size bed with its snow-white comforter dotted with bunches of wildflowers.

“You like it?”

“No, I hate it,” Sophie said, pulling a face as she gave him a push, knocking his arm out from under
him. “How could I
not
like it? Did you ever stop to think that this whole room might constitute a bribe? That I'm only here in bed with you because I love this room?”

“You wouldn't accept your weight in diamonds if you didn't want the man who came with them,” River said, tracing a fingertip down her upper arm. “Besides, it wasn't the room that did it. It was the swan, remember?”

“No ugly ducklings, only swans,” Sophie said, snuggling back against the pillows, taking his hand in her own. “Tell me you love me.”

“You love me,” River teased, then quickly grabbed Sophie's arms so that she couldn't attack him. He leaned over her, his head close to hers. “You love me,” he repeated. “I love you. I will love you for the next million years.”

Sophie raised a hand to his cheek. “I still don't believe it. All the wrong turns, all the wrong words, all the stupid mistakes—”

“This would be
you
you're talking about, right?” River interrupted, dropping a kiss on her nose. “Because I'm perfect. As a matter of fact, I think you even said so a little while ago.”

“Never believe anything I say in the heat of passion,” Sophie warned, grinning. “But I know what you're doing, Riv. You want us both to forget what happened, and to start thinking about the future. Am I right?”

“I wouldn't forget a moment of our lives, Sophie,” River corrected, his voice low, almost a whisper. “But I admit I do prefer to remember the good times
more than the bad. Besides, everything we said or did or failed to say or do brought us to this point. There can't be anything bad about that, right?”

“You're brilliant,” Sophie told him, reaching up to nip at his chin.

“I am? Are you in the heat of passion? Because, if you are, I think I can probably accommodate you.”

“Idiot!” Sophie said, laughing, and then she sobered. “Are you ever going to ask, Riv?”

He was busy nuzzling the side of her neck. “Ask? Ask what?”

Sophie closed her eyes, felt herself melting again, her mind getting wonderfully muzzy. “About the pregnancy test, of course. I did take one…or two. Don't you want to know?”

“Nope,” he said, reluctantly moving away from her. “And do you know why? I don't want to know because it makes no difference. I love you and I want to marry you. I want to marry you tomorrow, tonight. If we have one baby, or ten babies, or no babies, it doesn't change that, Soph. I love you.”

“Oh, Riv, you're something else,” Sophie told him, blinking back tears. “And I believe you. I believe you, and I love you. So I might as well tell you whether you ask or not. I took the test, and I'm definitely—”

River put two fingers over her mouth as he slowly shook his head. “Later,” he said, then waited until she nodded her agreement before removing his fingers and replacing them with his mouth.

 

River and Sophie never did get to the private family dinner party, arriving back at the ranch only after
making love yet again, then spending ten minutes on their hands and knees on the bedroom floor, looking for two missing black onyx shirt studs.

“You're late,” Rand said, sidling up to River as he stood in front of one of the portable bars set up in the courtyard. “I bet Drake five bucks you and Sophie would announce your engagement tonight. Am I going to be right?”

“Should have made it ten,” River said, grinning as he turned away from the bar, a glass of beer in one hand, a safe glass of ginger ale in the other, because he was pretty sure there was no milk at the bar. Besides, Sophie had said she wanted them to keep her pregnancy a secret between just the two of them for a little while longer. Not too much longer, River knew, because otherwise he was probably going to explode with the joy of their secret—that the lone wolf wasn't going to be alone for long, that he had a mate now, that he and his mate would soon be a family. “We're going to wait until after the birthday toasts, then tell everyone that we're going to be married.”

“Good,” Rand said, giving River a hearty slap on the back, so that he nearly spilled his beer. “I knew I could count on you, Riv. Congratulations!”

 

Sophie stood next to Jackson Colton, Graham's son and her cousin, and watched the increased activity around the base of the outdoor stage. The night sky was speckled with bright stars, the air was comfortably cool and the courtyard was a veritable mass of
tuxedos and sophisticated black gowns and sparkling jewels.

“She really stands out in that gown, doesn't she?” Jackson asked, using his wineglass to point toward Meredith.

“Yes,” Sophie agreed. “I think she planned it that way.” She watched as Meredith raised a hand to her hair, patting at the mass of curls rather nervously. Did she have a headache? Sophie felt she should go to her, see if she was all right, but then Cheyenne James joined them and the conversation drifted in another direction.

“My brother is looking rather extraordinarily handsome this evening,” Cheyenne said, winking at Jackson. “There's this sort of glow about River tonight, don't you think? Rather like the one Sophie is wearing.”

Jackson looked at Sophie and frowned. “Am I missing something here?” he asked, and both women laughed as River joined them, carrying a small plate of cocktail shrimp he handed to Sophie.

“Hi, little sis,” River said, kissing Cheyenne's cheek. “What's so funny?”

“You,” Cheyenne teased, kissing him back. “And don't think you can keep secrets from me, Riv, because you know you can't. I'm psychic, you know.” Then she turned to Jackson. “Do you think we could go scare up a couple of drinks? I'm dying of thirst. Oh, there's Rebecca. I need to talk to her about something. Be sweet, Jackson, and find me a cold drink, with lots of ice. I'll be over there, with Rebecca.”

“Why is it I keep letting women boss me around?”
Jackson said as Cheyenne walked off, her waist-length, jet black hair swaying as she moved. “Nice girl, your sister,” he added. “We've been talking almost nonstop, as a matter of fact, except for when she runs off to talk to somebody else. Why haven't I met her before tonight?”

“Because you're too busy working twenty-six hours a day, protecting Colton Enterprises,” Sophie said, laughing at Jackson's perplexed look. “And she wasn't kidding, you know. Cheyenne
is
psychic. Isn't she, Riv?”

“When she lets herself be, yes,” River said, and Jackson peered after Cheyenne once more, but she had disappeared into the crowd milling in the courtyard.

“Well, if she's psychic, she'll know I'm going to do as she said and go find us something cold to drink, especially since it looks like the toasts are about to begin. I think I'll use the service entrance and raid Joe's private stock in his study. There'll be less of a crowd that way. I'll catch you two later, okay?”

Jackson walked off, and River took Sophie's hand and eased them both closer to the stage, so they'd have a better view of the toasts. “Your mother looks—is the right word
spectacular?
”

Sophie stood on tiptoe, trying to catch a glimpse of her mother, but all she could see was Emmett Fallon, who came at her so suddenly out of the crowd that he nearly ran her down.

“Oh, sorry, Sophie,” Emmett said, wearing a designer tux and his usual frown. “Didn't see you. I've got to scare up a drink before the toasts.” And then
he was gone, heading toward the house, just as Jackson had done.

“Jackass,” River muttered under his breath. “Are you all right, little mother?”

“Oh, I'm fine, unless you think you're going to call me little mother for the next eight months, in which case
you
aren't going to be fine,” she answered with a grin, going up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “What a madhouse. Mom invited the whole world. Look, Riv, Dad's climbing up on the stage, bringing Mom with him. Do you think he's going to make a speech?”

“Sure looks like it. Your mother's got two champagne glasses. Here, let's get closer so you can see.”

Somehow, River maneuvered them closer to the stage, so that Sophie could see her mother standing in the glow from the spotlights directed at the stage. She looked beautiful as she handed one champagne glass to her husband. Young, happy, without a care in the world. Sophie watched as Meredith lifted a hand to her hair, patting her curls, smiling as if she knew how beautiful she looked.

“Speech! Speech!” someone yelled from the crowd, and the chant was taken up, growing louder until Joe held out his hands and asked for quiet.

“Thank you,” Joe said, and Sophie blinked back happy tears as she watched and listened to her father. He made a small joke at his own expense, then became serious for a moment, thanking everyone for coming, for reminding him that he wasn't “just an old warhorse gone out to pasture, but an old warhorse with a lot of friends and a lot of living still to do.”

“Hear, hear!” someone yelled, and Sophie turned to smile at Rand, who winked at her. “Sixty more, Dad! Sixty more!”

Joe laughed, pointed at his firstborn son. “I'll drink to that!” he exclaimed, raising the champagne flute to his lips.

Sophie was just raising her own glass, smiling at River, thinking that he'd make as wonderful a father as her own dad was to her, when a loud shot rang out. She turned, instinctively, in time to see her father going down. His arm around Meredith, his body shielding hers or leaning on hers, Joe Colton crashed to the stage, out of Sophie's line of sight.

“Daddy!” she yelled as River took her hand and pushed through the panicked, shouting crowd of guests, heading toward the stage.
“Daddy!”

 

In Mississippi, in a small bedroom shrouded in darkness, Louise Smith sat up, pressed trembling hands to her cheeks and screamed.

She screamed…and she screamed…and she screamed.