His Callahan Bride's Baby (Callahan Cowboys) (12 page)

“I don’t want to be safe,” Falcon said. “I want to do something really dangerous. I want to marry you. It’s the most dangerous thing I can think of. What do you say?”

Taylor closed her eyes. “Let me think about it.”

He didn’t love her. She knew he didn’t. “You know,” Taylor said, “the statistics on marriages that are started because of a baby aren’t good.”

“I don’t believe in statistics,” Falcon said. “That always sounded like so much voodoo to me.”

“It’s good to talk to you, Falcon. Stay safe.”

Taylor hung up, feeling terribly unsettled. Maybe she was making a mistake. Her mother was having a renaissance, enjoying her new beau. Mary had thrown caution to the wind and was having the time of her life. Six months ago, no one would have thought she would be able to get out of bed.

The first second she could, she went on a major life adventure.

“What am I afraid of?” Taylor murmured to herself, but she knew. She knew marriages that started impetuously probably didn’t last.

For Emma’s sake, she needed this one to last. There were no guarantees in life. None.

She went to pack her suitcase.

Chapter Twelve

Falcon sat straight, deep in thought in the stone ring, in front of a very small fire—not a large enough fire to be easily seen, and yet he had no desire to hide. He knew they were out there, and they knew he was here. To him it really didn’t matter.

It was Christmas Eve, and he was meditating. Far away from family, he went inside himself to make order of the chaos he felt. He had a thousand questions and no answers.

Kind of a lonely Christmas, but he’d rather be here than odd man out in Hell’s Colony. Or suffering through the cheery sights and smells Fiona would have spun all over Rancho Diablo.

Much better to be here, alone with his private thoughts, and yes, his misery. He wouldn’t be good company.

He heard the sound of an engine in the darkness, and then the engine turn off. Without opening his eyes, he listened to footsteps coming toward him. His visitor wasn’t bothering to disguise his presence. Ash walked a bit lighter; he wouldn’t have been totally surprised if his sister had taken a bit of pity on her big brother and brought him some Christmas dinner or something. It would have meant braving Galen’s wrath, but Ash had been known to go against their eldest brother’s wishes.

His visitor wasn’t any of his brothers, either. They moved like military men, with a bit more stealth.

This visitor wasn’t cautious. Falcon heard boots on the gritty snow, purposeful footsteps. Not Fiona, not Burke and not Grandfather. Any of them would make a different type of approach.

Not Wolf. He wasn’t so careless, usually. Wolf was sneaky. Falcon and his brothers had been warned about Uncle Wolf even when they were children.

“Darn it, Falcon,” he heard a voice say, and his eyes snapped open. He leaped to his feet, crunching over the snow to greet the mother of his child.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

Taylor shone a flashlight his way. “I had this strange idea that we should spend Christmas Eve together, you goob. But if you’re going to be all growly, I’ll go hang out with Aunt Nadine’s family.”

He was so stunned to see Taylor he barely knew what to say. In the flashlight beam he could see her rounded stomach. She looked wonderful. Her chocolate hair was long and had a piece of silvery tinsel strung in a barrette. She wore a long, red corduroy dress and boots. Her gloves and knitted cap with the sparkly bow on top gave her a look that was downright festive. “You’re the last person I expected to see.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?”

He pulled her to him, drinking in her warmth and the smell of sweet perfume he associated with Taylor. “You’re always a good thing.”

“I brought hot chocolate and Christmas cookies. And some marshmallows if you’re in the mood to roast them.”

He just wanted to kiss her. He couldn’t, of course; she had to set the pace. But she was here and that was all that mattered. “I’ve got the fire.”

“Fiona said you would. In fact, Fiona even sent along a long-handled pan of popping corn she says is organic.” Taylor thought for a moment. “Is organic corn better for you?”

“I don’t ask. I just eat whatever my illustrious aunt puts on my plate.”

Taylor went to unload the jeep, handing him the long-handled pan. “Supposedly this is antique. Your aunt says you’ll love it. You have to keep shaking it gently over the fire, but she swears there’s nothing more romantic than staring at the stars and popping popcorn over an open fire. I thought it would be too noisy, but Fiona says even Wolf has to take a night off for Christmas Eve.”

Falcon wasn’t so certain. But it wouldn’t matter. If Taylor wanted romance, he was all for making it happen.

“Of course,” Taylor said, carrying a wicker basket as she followed him, “I told her romance wasn’t on the list. But it sounds like fun, so I brought the pan.”

Maybe she wasn’t looking for romance, but he was. There was always a chance the Christmas spirit could change Taylor’s mind, right?

He spread a blanket on top of the waterproof sheet he’d put under his sleeping bag near the fire, so she could sit more comfortably. “I don’t think you should be out here long,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s too chilly. I don’t want you or little Emma catching a cold.”

Taylor sat on the blanket and watched him put the pan over the fire. “I won’t get cold. I’m bundled up with so many layers I can barely feel the chill.”

If he had his way, she wouldn’t feel any chill at all. Falcon shook the pan lightly, and popcorn began to explode. He hadn’t smelled popcorn in so long he couldn’t remember the last time he had.

“You know, Fiona’s right. This is fun,” Taylor said. “The stars are beautiful.”

He grunted. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“I told you. I wanted to spend Christmas Eve with you.”

Was she bringing bad news to him? About to tell him that she’d changed her mind about ol’ Benton and was going to marry him?

“I’ve been thinking about you, and me, and Emma,” Taylor said.

He brought the popped corn over, sat next to her. “And?”

“I think,” Taylor said, “it would be best for Emma if we spent a little more time together.”

“Sounds good to me.” He didn’t say more, didn’t want to rush her. Yet hope was beginning to sneak cautiously into him.

“I feel as if clearing up communication between us would help us later on with raising our daughter.”

He couldn’t take it. “How much more time?”

“Whatever we decide.” She shrugged, took some of the popcorn. “This is good. Fiona’s always right, isn’t she?”

“Not really. She let you come out here in the darkness without an escort, and for that, I should be plenty mad at her. I’m just so happy to see you that I’m not mad like I should be.”

“I have an escort,” Taylor said.

“Messrs. Smith and Wesson?”

“Them, and your sister followed me halfway out here. She’s gone now. She’s going with Burke and Fiona to Hell’s Colony. There’ll be nobody but me at the Rancho Diablo house.” Taylor sighed. “I’m only allowed to stay here with you for an hour. Fiona says I have to call her immediately on the hour, or she’s phoning up the sheriff and the National Guard.”

“That’s better. At least she has some sense of caution.” He knew his aunt. She was more concerned about matchmaking than safety. “I didn’t think I’d see you before the New Year, if then.”

“I wasn’t planning on coming. But then I heard that you were down here, and I came to lodge a complaint. I don’t want what happened to Xav to happen to you.”

“That was a fluke. Xav thinks he just got a little careless and someone got a shot off. I’m never careless. In fact, I’d probably see them before they’d see me.”

“I don’t like it,” Taylor said, sounding tense.

“Hey, you’re not actually worried about me, are you?”

Taylor shook her head. “Of course not, not excessively. Eat your popcorn.”

“Not excessively?” He laughed. “What does that mean?”

“It means of course I’m worried, but not to the point that I lose sleep over it.” She sniffed. “Much, anyway.”

“You’re cute when you fib,” Falcon said, suddenly getting it. “You
have
been worrying about me!”

“So?” She glared at him, pushed the popcorn away, popped open a water bottle and sipped. “Emma would be disappointed if I didn’t worry about her father a little bit.”

“Emma, is it?” He smiled to himself. “What did you really come out here for?”

“To raise your blood pressure.” She leaned against his shoulder, and they looked up at the stars together. “I figured it was time for us to share this journey. Once I heard you’d taken canyon duty, I knew you needed me at your back.”

He moved her off his shoulder so he could stare down at her. “You’re not serious.”

“Sure I am. Of course I am. What wife leaves the father of her child to face danger alone?”

“A smart wife.” He shook his head at her. “If you’re thinking you’re going to stay out here with me, you’re not.”

“We either share our lives or we don’t.”

“And if we don’t?”

“Then what’s the point?”

He touched her nose, then her lips, then spread his hand over her stomach. “I think we have bigger fish to fry at the moment. Emma belongs in a comfortable house. Not out in the open where—”

“So I’m just supposed to be the silent little woman who sits at home while her man is out protecting the world?”

“What would you do if I was still in the military? You couldn’t follow me to Afghanistan.” He smiled. “Much as I’d want you to be around.”

“And that’s the point. You’re not in the military anymore. You and I can be together. Otherwise it wouldn’t be a marriage. There’s just no way two people who don’t know each other very well grow into a marriage when they don’t share their lives.”

“We’re not married,” he said, and Taylor said, “Well, I’m trying to marry you.”

His eyes widened. She loved the look of surprise on his face. “What are you saying, Taylor?”

“It’s Christmas. You waited, just like Jillian suggested.” She smiled, enjoying his suspense. “I always thought a Christmas wedding would be lovely.”

“Are you serious?” He sat up straight.

“Callahan, tying you down is what I want for Christmas,” Taylor said.

“But I don’t want you out here,” Falcon said. “That’s the catch, isn’t it? You want to be a warrior wife?”

“I want to be with my husband. There’s the big bunkhouse nearby and the ranch isn’t far.”

He shook his head. “There isn’t a man alive on this planet that would allow his wife to be out in the elements where known mercenaries are.”

She got up, began loading the jeep with the popcorn pan and the basket. “Well, we’re going to have to compromise somewhere. I’m not going to just sit in the house and wait for Wolf to send me a ransom note for you.”

“That’s what you’re supposed to do!”

Taylor looked at him. “Two heads are better than one. I’m a good shot, and you know it.”

“You’re having my baby! Babies need to be safe inside a house.”

“Was Ash safe inside a house?”

“We’re not talking about Ash,” Falcon said, but Taylor got in the jeep.

“Merry Christmas, Falcon. I have to get back or Fiona will send the sheriff. Or your grandfather, which is the equivalent of a platoon of soldiers. She worries.”

“
I
worry. I don’t get any respect for worrying.” He got up in the jeep next to her. “I’m following you back.”

She smiled. “You can’t. Your brothers will say I’ve ruined your focus.”

He leaned over, kissed her. “Are you sure about getting married?”

“If you compromise a little about us being apart. I just think we can’t let your uncle Wolf ruin our marriage from the start. There’s a million little things that can go wrong in a marriage. A good one takes work. How can we work on it if we’re apart?” She kissed him back, lingering just a little, drawing out the moment, teasing him with her lips.

“You’re trying to seduce me into seeing your side.”

“Is it working?”

“It just might be. Let me get my horse. We’ll discuss this more in front of a warm fireplace.”

She looked around at the frosty darkness. “What about your post?”

“Everybody’s about to ship out. That leaves only me and you. I imagine you can bend my ear a little better when your teeth aren’t chattering.”

She smiled. “See you at the house.”

He got out of the jeep, went to the stone circle to pack up his things. Falcon couldn’t really understand that she was too afraid of him getting shot, the way Xav had. Maybe Falcon wouldn’t be as fortunate as Xav had been.

She wasn’t able to sit up in the warm, cozy house, waiting for something to happen. Ugly images stirred her mind; she remembered the night Falcon had been jumped by his uncle and his companions. What might have happened if she hadn’t been there? Would Wolf have harmed his nephew?

She’d always known the risks of getting involved with a Callahan. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t help even out the risks.

* * *

F
ALCON
LET
HIMSELF
INTO
the house that night, locked the door behind him and went looking for Taylor. She was waiting by the fireplace, where a roaring fire backlit her sweet face.

“So this is Christmas Eve,” Falcon said.

“Yes, it is.” She got up to pour him a cup of mulled cider. “Merry Christmas.”

“You’re scaring me,” Falcon said, and he meant it. She really was, on so many levels. “I think you’re serious.”

She smiled, touched her mug to his. “I’ve never been more serious.”

“You’re romancing me because of Emma.”

“Can you think of a better reason?”

“No.” Glancing around, he saw no signs of family. All the Christmas presents were gone from under the tree, except one. “Fiona and everyone headed to Hell’s Colony?”

Taylor nodded, cute in her black velour jogging pants and jacket. “The sleigh left.”

A knock at the kitchen door halted what he was about to say. “Expecting someone?”

Taylor got up and followed him. “Mom’s still traveling with her beau and Fiona didn’t want me far away from where she felt like she could keep tabs on me. No one else knows I’m here.”

Falcon opened the door. Frigid air blew in, swirling around them. He stepped outside to look around, and waved Taylor back, his suspicions suddenly gone haywire. He’d definitely heard a knock—Taylor had heard it, too.

He went back in, locked the door behind him. Went back to the fireplace. “Taylor?”

There was no answer. Falcon’s blood chilled. He waited, then checked the bedrooms and the halls. By the Christmas tree, the lone gift sat, its foil wrapping colored by the twinkling lights. The mugs of mulled cider remained in front of the fire.

Closing his eyes, Falcon concentrated, listening. His heart beat so loudly it was hard to hear—but then the fire popped, sending up a shower of sparks, and he felt the hunch, the warning, that had saved his life on so many occasions.

He checked his gun, moved to the front door—a door that was rarely used at Rancho Diablo because everybody always used the kitchen door, even friends who came to call. He went out, scanned the dark landscape, saw the footprints in the snow, scraped and disturbed, signs of a struggle.