Midnight Sons Volume 3 (12 page)

Although his voice was soft, she nearly leaped off the swing, so great was her surprise. She could hardly believe he’d made it all the way to the porch without her noticing.

“Do you have a minute?”

He must’ve known she was searching for a plausible excuse to avoid him because he added, “I talked to Ben this morning.”

“How is he?” she asked, eager for news.

“Resting comfortably. He sends his love.”

“I’ll try to get into Fairbanks this week to visit him myself,” she said, realizing she sounded nervous. Well, she was. Being
around Christian, especially outside the work environment, had always left her feeling tongue-tied and uneasy.

He walked across the porch and sat next to her on the swing. “I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

Mariah locked her fingers together, vowing to be strong. “I’m not coming back to work for you, Christian—no matter how much money you offer.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with the office. This has to do with you and me.”

Mariah felt as if the world went still, as if the wind stopped blowing, the sun ceased to shine and the whole world waited in silent suspension for him to continue.

“Us?” Her voice rose to a squeak. Resolutely she closed her mouth. Every time she talked to Christian, she seemed to say something stupid. Like raving about a salmon casserole. Or telling him to shut up because he was disturbing her fantasy. No wonder he sought out more sophisticated company. With her he got salmon casserole, she thought wryly; with Allison Reynolds it was T-bone steak.

“Yes, us,” he repeated. “Actually I’d like to know what your plans are for the winter.”

He wanted her gone. That was what this was leading up to. He was going to ask her to leave Hard Luck.

She remained silent.

“Matt told me you’ve decided not to stay at the lodge. That doesn’t give you a lot of options, housing here being what it is.”

“No,” she admitted, and looked away as the pain burned a hole straight through her. “Let me make this easy for you. You’re asking me to leave Hard Luck and I—”

“What?” he demanded, laughing as if what she’d just said was ludicrous.

Mariah didn’t take kindly to his humor. She had nowhere to go except back to Seattle. Her parents would suffocate her with attention and
their
plans for her future. She felt too defeated, too discouraged, to make a new start in some new place. What hurt so terribly was that the man who held her heart in the palm of his hand was the one asking her to leave.

“I’ll go without a fuss,” she whispered.

“Mariah.” Christian caught her by the shoulders and turned her so that she faced him squarely. “I’m not asking you to leave Hard Luck. Quite the opposite.” His gaze pinned hers and she read the truth in his eyes. “I came to ask you to be my wife.”

“Your wife?” she asked in confusion. “Is this a joke?”

“No man makes that kind of offer unless he’s serious. And, Mariah, I’ve never been more serious in my life. I want to marry you.”

Probably for the first time since her arrival in Alaska, Mariah was struck dumb.

“Say something,” Christian urged.

She was touched by the uncertainty in his voice. After all this time, he still didn’t know she was crazy in love with him.

“Kiss me,” she said when she regained the ability to speak.

“Kiss you?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Right here? Now?”

“Yes,” she said impatiently.

“This isn’t another one of those fantasy things, is it? Because what I feel for you is real.”

“This request is very real, too. Now shut up and kiss me.”

“Just remember,” he whispered as he reached for her, “you
asked for this.” He brought her into his arms and slowly, methodically, lowered his mouth to hers.

In the beginning his kiss was gentle and tender, the way it had been the night of the dance. Soon it became more passionate. Mariah moaned softly, clinging fiercely to his arms. They quickly discovered that one kiss wasn’t enough to satisfy either of them. They kissed again and again.

A sensation of weightlessness stole over her. She felt as if she could fly, float effortlessly through the heavens. Already her heart was soaring.

“Soon,” Christian murmured, breaking off the kiss and burying his face in the curve of her neck.

“Soon?” she repeated.

“We’re getting married very soon.”

“But—”

“I don’t know any man who could’ve behaved like a bigger fool than I have this past year. I love you, Mariah. I need you in my life.”

Mariah brushed the tears from her face. “You’re…sure about all this?” Loving him as much as she did, she couldn’t bear it if he suddenly changed his mind.

“Oh, yes,” he said, and kissed her again. “
Will
you marry me, Mariah?”

Smiling through her tears, she nodded eagerly.

Christian threw back his head and laughed.

“That wasn’t supposed to be funny, Christian O’Halloran!”

“Not you, my love,” he said, holding her more securely in his arms. “Us.”

“
Us
is humorous?” If she wasn’t so elated, so filled with joy, she could take offense at this.

“We’re going to be very happy, Mariah.” He kissed her once more in a way that left no doubt as to his feelings. “I’ve waited all my life for you.”

“Christian! I swear you’re the most oblivious man in the entire state of Alaska.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” he said, gazing into her eyes. “It took me a while to figure things out, but I fully intend to make up for lost time.”

Mariah laid her head on his shoulder and nestled into his embrace. “And I fully intend to let you.”

“I meant what I said, Mariah. I want us to be married as soon as we can make the arrangements.” He looked down at her as if he expected an argument, but Mariah didn’t have any objections.

Not a single, solitary one.

Late September 1996

T
RACY
S
ANTIAGO
always cried at weddings. It embarrassed her because, for one thing, people might believe she wanted to be married herself. Yet nothing could be further from the truth. Tracy had high ideals; she also had strong opinions on a variety of subjects, most of which related to women’s issues. Any man she got involved with would have to understand that. So far, the men in her life had been a severe disappointment.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together this day to celebrate the union of…”

Tracy lowered her head and struggled to hold back tears. She was standing near Reverend Wilson in the small community church of Hard Luck, Alaska, as her friend and former client, Mariah Douglas, exchanged marriage vows with Christian O’Halloran. Tracy was Mariah’s maid of honor; his brother Sawyer was best man.

Almost two years before, the town had advertised for women—or, more accurately, had advertised jobs they’d hoped would bring women north. The O’Halloran brothers, owners and operators of a bush-plane business called Midnight Sons, had been the prime movers behind the plan.

In their eagerness to entice women to Alaska, they’d promised jobs, free housing and twenty acres of land if the applicants agreed to live and work in Hard Luck for one year.

“Do you, Mariah Mary Douglas, take…”

Tracy swallowed and tilted her chin, refusing to humiliate herself in front of the entire town—and even more importantly, in front of Duke Porter. The thought of him was enough to stiffen her spine and keep the tears at bay.

When she’d first read about the men in Hard Luck, Tracy had been suspicious. An article in the Seattle paper had described the proposal, which sounded too good to be true. Experience had taught her there was no such thing as a free lunch…or free land.

Her one fleeting thought that summer morning had been to hope that any woman who signed the contract would have an attorney look it over first. Heaven only knew what this rowdy crew of bush pilots was up to.

Little did Tracy think
she’d
be the attorney reviewing the contract.

A month later, Mr. and Mrs. Rudolph Douglas had made an appointment with the prestigious law firm where Tracy was employed. Tracy was assigned to meet with them.

It seemed the Douglases’ daughter, Mariah, had been hired by the O’Hallorans as secretary for Midnight Sons, and the couple was worried. They’d asked Tracy to investigate the people responsible for luring their daughter north. They
wanted her to study the contract, find a way to break it and bring Mariah safely home.

Tracy remembered how Mariah’s parents had characterized their daughter—as gentle, fragile, naive and easily swayed by control-seeking men. They’d feared that Mariah had made a terrible mistake. Pride, they suspected, was the only thing that kept her in Alaska. Tracy believed the Douglases were justifiably worried.

Her voice shaking, Mrs. Douglas had talked about Mariah’s decision to leave Seattle. Tracy was provoked to fury by the idea of a bunch of men taking advantage of young women, especially women like Mariah. She eagerly accepted the assignment and immediately made plans to investigate the matter. Within the week, she’d traveled to Hard Luck.

She’d been prepared to do battle for the rights of Mariah and the other hapless women, but nothing had gone quite as she’d expected. To her astonishment, what she’d discovered was a tight-knit community hard at work, forging a future for their families.

Tracy had interviewed the women who’d signed contracts with the O’Halloran brothers. She was more than a little surprised to find them content and even happy, despite the almost primitive living conditions.

The biggest surprise had been Mariah Douglas. The woman was nothing like her parents had described. Gentle and soft-hearted, yes. Gullible and easily swayed, no.

For her part, Mariah was embarrassed by her family’s insistence that she return to Seattle. The very reason she’d applied for the job in Hard Luck was to escape her parents and their domineering ways. Alaska offered her the opportunity to create her own life without their constant interference.

The Douglases had wanted to file a lawsuit against the
O’Hallorans, but Mariah had refused to cooperate, so it became a moot point.

“Do you, Christian Anton O’Halloran, take as…”

Out of the corner of her eye, Tracy caught sight of Duke Porter. He’d positioned himself on the bride’s side of the church just so he could fluster her. Tracy would’ve bet her grandmother’s cameo on that.

It was during her first visit to Hard Luck that Tracy had met Duke Porter, one of the pilots employed by Midnight Sons. Duke epitomized everything she disliked about men. He was an opinionated, stubborn chauvinist who had no qualms about sharing his outdated views of women.

Duke referred to women as “the weaker sex.” He was the type of man who resented any woman in a position of power. The aptly named
Duke
Porter might look like the rugged hero of an old-fashioned Western; the trouble was he sounded like one, too.

They’d clashed the minute they met.

The man was the worst redneck Tracy had encountered in
years.
Every time she thought about him, she gritted her teeth.

Instead of worrying about Duke, Tracy forced herself to concentrate on the wedding ceremony. The church was crowded with well-wishers as Mariah and Christian pledged their lives to each other.

Tracy didn’t think she’d ever seen Mariah look more beautiful. She wore the serene expression of a woman who knows she’s deeply loved. A woman cherished by the man to whom she’s willingly surrendered her heart.

Mariah had loved Christian almost from the day she’d arrived in Hard Luck. It’d taken Christian well over a year to recognize that he loved Mariah, too. Once he had, though,
it seemed the youngest O’Halloran brother was intent on making up for lost time.

The couple was married two weeks to the day after they’d become engaged. Their whirlwind courtship left Tracy’s head spinning. Even if
she
wasn’t a romantic, Tracy was charmed by the way Christian had rushed Mariah to the altar.

She didn’t begrudge her friend’s happiness. Or Christian’s. But she firmly believed that kind of love wasn’t meant for her, and the thought saddened her, although she wasn’t completely sure why.

Christian O’Halloran hadn’t been able to take his eyes off his bride from the moment Mariah had entered the church on her father’s arm. The only word to describe Christian was
besotted,
and Tracy knew Mariah was giddy with happiness.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Christian O’Halloran. Christian, you may kiss your bride.”

There was applause as Christian drew Mariah into his arms and slowly brought his mouth to hers. The kiss lasted long enough for whistles and embarrassed giggles.

Following the ceremony, the wedding party moved on to the reception, which was being held in the largest building in the community—the Hard Luck school gymnasium.

Mariah had kept Tracy informed of the goings-on in town with her long newsy letters. Tracy suspected she knew more about Hard Luck than some of the town’s residents did. Between her visits and Mariah’s letters, she found herself falling in love with the state of Alaska. And specifically Hard Luck, the unique little town fifty miles north of the Arctic Circle.

As soon as she got to the gymnasium, Tracy stood in the reception line with the other members of the wedding party
to greet the long row of guests. The first person to come through the line was Abbey O’Halloran, wearing an ivory-colored, lace-fringed maternity top.

“Tracy, it’s so good to see you again,” Abbey said, hugging her.

“You, too.”

Abbey looked wonderful. Radiant. Tracy knew it was a cliché to describe a pregnant woman as radiant, but Abbey
was.
She simply glowed with health, happiness, excitement. In her last letter, Mariah had written that the ultrasound showed Sawyer and Abbey were having a daughter.

As the reception line progressed, Tracy was surprised by the number of people she recognized. Many she knew because of her visits, but others she remembered from Mariah’s letters.

Just when Tracy was beginning to think she might escape Duke Porter, he stepped directly in front of her. He flashed her one of his cocky grins, the kind of grin that suggested she should be thrilled to see him.

She wasn’t.

Tracy stiffened instinctively. “Hello, Duke,” she managed to say.

“Tell me,” he said, apparently not the least bit concerned that he was holding up the reception line, “were those
tears
I saw in your eyes during the ceremony?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she returned tartly. The man possessed an innate talent for zeroing in on whatever made her the most uncomfortable.

“It seemed to me,” he said thoughtfully, rubbing his hand over his clean-shaven chin, “that your eyes were suspiciously bright while Mariah and Christian exchanged their vows. Tears, Tracy? From a woman who’s never been married? You must be close to thirty now, right?”

“I said you were mistaken,” she said, leaning past him to greet the next person in line. Duke, however, stood his ground.

“You’ve never been married, have you, Tracy?” he said. “I wonder why. Judging by the tears, you must be wondering the same thing.”

“As a matter of fact, I haven’t given it a thought,” she informed him coldly, angry with herself for rising to his bait.

He appeared to digest this information for a moment, then added, “It would take an unusual man to marry a woman who obviously hates men.”

“I
don’t
hate men,” she said heatedly, then clenched her hands at her sides, furious that he’d done it to her again. Duke Porter knew precisely what to say to enrage her. What enraged her even more was how easily she allowed her control to slip with this…this bush pilot. Some of the best-known attorneys in the King County court system couldn’t get a rise out of her nearly as fast.

He chuckled softly, clearly pleased with himself.

“You’re holding up the reception line,” she snapped in an effort to get him to leave.

Duke glanced over his shoulder. “You’re right. We’ll resume this discussion later. And there’ll be no escape then, I promise you.”

He leaned forward as if to kiss her, and she jerked her head back. But her action didn’t disconcert him at all.

“Tracy?” he whispered for her ears alone. “Don’t forget, I owe you one.”

“Owe me?”

“For that kiss,” he reminded her. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

She opened her mouth to question his sanity. The last man on this earth she was interested in kissing was Duke Porter.

“The kiss,” he said in calm tones, “that you had Mariah deliver. You owe me, you little troublemaker, and I intend to collect.”

Tracy felt as if the floor had opened up and she was falling through open space.

Months earlier, she’d asked Mariah to kiss Duke on her behalf and to tell him it was from his favorite feminist. They’d meant the whole thing as a joke. And frankly she’d never expected to see Duke Porter again.

He smiled at her, but there was no amusement in his face. His expression said she was about to receive her due.

Tracy swallowed painfully. She had nothing to fear, she told herself. Duke was all bark and no bite. Her eyes held his, unwavering.

The person behind Duke cleared his throat, and Duke moved forward to offer his congratulations to the bride and groom.

Tracy’s eyes followed him. She recalled the first time she’d met Duke and how she’d involuntarily reacted to the disturbing sight of his rugged sensuality. Duke was well over six feet, almost a full head taller than her own five-three.

He was muscular, as well, but she knew that his strength wasn’t the result of working out at some gym with fancy equipment. He was a man who lived hard and worked harder.

His hair was straight and dark, a bit long in the back. He needed it trimmed, but then he had every time she’d seen him. From a distance his eyes looked dark, but on closer inspection she realized they were a deep shade of gray. Brooding eyes.

Tracy’s were brown, and she wore her hair short and curly. With her court schedule what it was, she didn’t have time to fuss with her appearance. She frowned on women who used beauty instead of intelligence to achieve their goals.

Her wardrobe consisted of business suits in grays and blues. A few casual clothes—jeans and sweaters. One fancier dress for those rare evenings when she participated in some charity function. And now, one rose silk maid-of-honor dress. Tracy would never have chosen such a traditionally feminine outfit for herself.

She’d always disdained feminine trappings, which she saw as pandering to men. From an early age she’d learned the disappointing truth—men were often intimidated by intelligent women. It hurt their pitifully fragile egos to admit that someone of the “weaker sex” might know more than they did. In her opinion, Duke was a classic example of this kind of man, and she refused to allow him to diminish her confidence. As the reception continued, Tracy managed to avoid him. She headed for the buffet and three of the pilots did verbal battle to see which one would have the honor of bringing her dinner. While the men argued, Tracy dished up her own plate. The three pilots watched openmouthed as she sat down and started to eat. The comedy went on as they rushed toward the buffet line, then hurried back to vie for a seat next to her.

Tracy had dated her share of men and been in several short-term relationships, but rarely had she had more requests than she could handle. This was certainly an aspect of life in Alaska she hadn’t considered.

Just when she thought she was safe, Duke asked her to dance. Actually he didn’t ask, he assumed. While her mind staggered, seeking excuses, he effortlessly guided her onto the dance floor.

Rather than cause a scene, Tracy let him take her in his arms.

“I was watching you just now,” he said, and his voice was almost friendly. Almost, but not quite.