Twice a Texas Bride (16 page)

“I'm not. And you didn't
rope
me into anything. I could've said no. This is what I've dreamed of my whole life.” He just prayed it lasted.

“Even when you were swilling whiskey, dealing cards, and doing God knows what else in your saloon?”

The twinkle in her eyes made him happy. That she could tease meant she wasn't going to let anyone rob her of the chance to be lighthearted on occasion.

“Yep, even in my whiskey-swilling days.” Warmth pooled low in his belly. It would soon be time to collect his nightly kiss. Anticipation hummed inside him like the drone of bees.

Those kisses were going to be his ruination, and he cursed his weakness. Even so, there was no way in hell he'd stop giving them.

They sat for a while lost in their own thoughts, then each carried a child upstairs and tucked them into bed.

“Don't worry, Callie. I'll watch over you. Get some rest.” He tugged her against his chest, wondering if she could hear his heart beating wildly. The woman didn't know it, but she had more power in her little finger than he had in his entire body.

His
wife
.

“I have no fears as long as you're with me,” she whispered, looking up at him.

Rand slid his hand beneath her hair and lowered his mouth. The kiss was full of raw hunger and need. A raging desire so unbridled it strangled him rose up. He wanted to pull her against him and caress every inch of her body until he put out this fire that seared everything in its path. His hand slipped to the swell of her breast to touch her gentle curves. He couldn't get enough of this woman he treasured.

He'd tried to resist loving her, but with each passing minute, it became clear he fought a losing battle.

A low moan rose from his chest.

One day he'd get brave enough to undo a few buttons and feel her silky skin. A tremble weakened his knees.

Dear God, if he lived to be as old as Methuselah, he'd never tire of kissing her.

He hadn't been wrong in saying she was his beginning. And somehow he knew she'd also be his end.

The wind through the trees seemed to whisper the words,
Prepare, prepare
.

Though they hadn't glimpsed Nate, something told Callie he was watching. Waiting. Ready to pounce. Often when she went outside, her skin prickled.

So more shooting lessons had followed. Now that they were caretakers of another small life, Callie wanted to make sure they were as ready as they could be for whatever came.

With much practice, she developed some skill with both a rifle and a pistol, at least enough to be familiar with the weapons. She'd begun carrying a small derringer in the pocket of her dress.

The cold piece of metal brought a sense of security.

Now, with sunlight spilling in through the windows, she sat rocking Wren, who filled her with unbelievable joy. Rand and Toby were outside. Her mind drifted to past mistakes and regret.

Her biggest—Richard Farrington—crossed her mind. Dear, sweet Richard. He had fought his demons right alongside her. She'd met him the year she turned eighteen. From the start, their friendship had formed out of the fact they were two lost souls looking for a way through the muddled maze of their lives.

One night, they met beside a clear stream behind her stepfather's house. Though eight years had passed, she still recalled how the moonlight reflected on the water, the sound of Richard's sobs, the feeling of utter despair.

“My mother is gone,” Richard had cried. “Found her hanging from a tree out back.”

He'd cut her down and then found the note saying that she couldn't take any more. His mother had been a widow, and the struggle to keep going simply drained the life from her.

Callie's attempts to comfort went too far. They spent the night in each other's arms. Before dawn, despite the fumbling gropes and awful pain, she had become a woman. A couple of months later, she discovered she was with child. Calling her a slut and an utter disgrace, her stepfather, Edmund Powers, sent her to live with his crone of a sister outside Jefferson City. Claire went with her. Away from their stepparents' eagle eyes, her twin met Nate Fleming and married him to spite Edmund. He'd been livid that she would defy him and promptly told both Claire and Callie they were dead to him.

Richard Farrington disappeared, and she'd learned only six months ago that Edmund had hired some thugs to beat him senseless and put him aboard a ship bound for the Orient. She never saw or heard from him again.

Callie had the baby five months later. A girl, she was told by her stepbrother, who, carrying out his father's instructions, ripped the infant from her arms. Only one brief glimpse, one precious moment with her little darling, and David took it all away. No matter how much she and Claire begged, David refused to tell her where he'd taken the babe.

To this day, she didn't know what had happened to her.

Not even if her baby angel was alive. A tear slipped down Callie's cheek. What she'd give to see her child again.

As she cradled Wren's small body that fit so perfectly into her arms, she remembered the trauma of the childbirth and the terrible darkness that had overtaken her afterward. Such horrendous pain and blood loss. The doctor told her she'd almost died. She'd felt so adrift, she'd almost wanted to.

She could never take the chance of that happening again.

That one night, because she'd simply wanted to make Richard happy, altered the course of her life forever and ruined any chance of being a true wife to Rand.

And, oh God, how she wanted to.

But the pain, the enormous loss, and now the fear kept her in a stranglehold.

A shuddering sigh rose from deep inside, pushing aside the painful memories that cut to the quick. Callie caressed Wren's coal-black hair, inhaling the babe's sweet fragrance. She'd made many missteps in her life, but agreeing to be a mother to little Wren wasn't one of them.

If she did this right, maybe it would begin to heal the past in some small way and she could finally make peace with what had happened.

The kitchen door opened and she smiled. Rand had shown her how it felt to be truly loved and cherished. Their nightly routine of enjoying each other's company in the parlor, then kissing before they went to bed was something she looked forward to from the moment her feet hit the floor in the morning.

Some nights he kissed her twice, but she didn't let him know she noticed. Each kiss seemed to hold a promise that he'd always keep her close to his heart, no matter the restrictions she placed on him. A huge part of her wished she could be the wife he needed, sleep beside him, and take comfort from his nearness.

But Rand wouldn't want a woman who was so broken. He deserved a whole wife. Children meant everything to him. She could never give him a biological child.

So she had to silently endure the torture of Rand's nearness and try to tamp down the desire that flowed like molten lava through her veins.

Rand entered the parlor and laid his large hand on her head. “I love watching you holding the baby. Makes something turn over inside of me. You're a wonderful mother.”

“Flattery can get a man in trouble, you know that?”

He grinned. “I'll risk it. Just came in to tell you that Cooper and Brett are here with a small army. We're starting work on the house.” He paused. “We sorta have to feed 'em. Do you think—”

“I'll take care of it, Rand. I don't mind.”

“Thank you.” Before he went back out, he slid his hand down her hair to her shoulder.

“Is Toby in your way?” she asked.

“Nope. I like having the boy around.”

“If he gets bothersome, send him in the house.”

A quick nod and Rand went back out to the work crew. Callie kissed the baby and laid her in the cradle. It would take a lot of food to feed all those hungry men. She had no time to waste. Thinking of the past wouldn't set it to rights. Nothing could. Too much water under that bridge.

With the feel of Rand's touch still lingering on her hair, she pulled out her pots and pans and set to work.

All the kissing and touching had awakened a powerful need inside her. How easy it would be to slip into Rand's bed. But first she had to figure out a way past the barriers she'd set.

And find the words that would destroy his love.

He should know what kind of wife he'd gotten.

* * *

Callie had just fed the workers lunch and was cleaning up the kitchen when a knock sounded at the front door. After pushing the window curtain aside for a glance, she opened it for Rand's mother.

“Abigail, how nice to see you. Please, come in.”

The woman squared her stiff shoulders and forced a smile. “I hope I can have a word with you if it's convenient.”

“Of course.” Callie motioned Abigail inside. “Rand is out back. I can call him.”

“I'd rather you didn't just yet.”

Something told Callie this would be a trying afternoon. She prayed for patience. Seating Abigail on the settee in the parlor, she took the rocker. “What's this about?”

“I had to hear through the tittle-tattle going around town that you and my son have wed. It made me look like a fool.”

“I apologize. We had to plan it very quickly.” Callie told her about Emily Winters and the circumstances that led to the marriage. “We'd have loved to have you there but had no time to assemble guests. We never meant to cause you embarrassment.”

Abigail drew her gloves off slowly. “I fail to see why you couldn't have waited a few days. Rand simply didn't want me.”

“That's not true.” Callie moved to the space beside her and took her hands. “Your son loves you. You gave him the one thing he'd wanted his entire life—a mother. But Rand is no longer a little boy. He's a man. He doesn't need his nose wiped for him. Forgive me for saying this, but you're both trying too hard.”

“I suppose you're right. It's just so difficult.” Abigail gave a wry smile. “Impatience has always been my shortcoming. I want everything yesterday. Delays eat a hole in me. It nearly killed me when I kept silent so long, pretending to be a grieving widow. So many times I wanted to blurt it out. But fear of Rand's rejection was a strong deterrent. And now look at us, look at what it got me. He can barely stay in the same room with me. I should never have passed through Battle Creek.”

“I think it might help to relax and stop wearing your feelings on your sleeve. You're not going to change Rand. The more you try, the further you'll push him away. I want you both to have a happy, comfortable kinship. He truly needs you and I think you also need him…maybe more than you know.”

“I suppose I could try to mend my ways.” Abigail pulled her hands free and adjusted the frothy hat of silk, lace, and feathers that had probably cost a pretty penny. “Now, I'd like to see my new granddaughter.”

Callie suppressed a groan of frustration. In one breath Abigail said she'd try to change and in the next she was back to demanding. “I'm sorry, but Wren is asleep right now.”

“Can I just peek at her then?”

“I won't deny you that. I moved her cradle into the kitchen, where it's warm, while I worked.”

Abigail followed her into the next room. She leaned over the cradle and touched the babe's dark hair. “She's beautiful.”

“Yes, she is.” Before Callie could stop her mother-in-law, she picked up Wren. So much for promises. The infant's eyes flew open in alarm and she screwed up her face to cry.

“There you are,” Abigail crooned, cradling the infant in her arms. “Isn't this much better?”

For whom, Callie wondered? Wren had been snoozing peacefully.

Abigail scowled. “This baby needs to be held. Lying on a hard bed will make the back of her head flat. A mother knows about these things.”

Callie let the slight go and chuckled. “You have no idea how rare it is for her to lie in her cradle. If Rand's not holding her, Toby is wagging her around like a favorite toy.”

“That child is not old enough to hold a baby.” The woman shifted Wren to her shoulder and patted the small back. “I won't have him hurting my granddaughter.”

Anger rose. “Look, Abigail, we always take the safety of the children very seriously.”

“Oh dear, I've done it again, haven't I? I just wanted to hold her in my arms for a moment.”

Callie sighed. Abigail was never going to change, so she might as well accept her, faults and all. “Would you mind taking care of your granddaughter while I finish up the dishes and get some supper on? It would be a tremendous help.”

“I'd love to.” Beaming, Abigail kissed the babe.

“She likes to be rocked. I'll join you in a while.”

While she washed the last of the dishes, she looked out to see where Toby was. She found him with Brett. Someone had rigged a belt around Toby's waist and it had a hammer hanging from it. He spied her and waved, making the drooping feather fall from his hair where he'd stuck it. No doubt that wide grin he wore would be permanent. She'd never seen the sweet boy happier, and that brought a smile to her heart.

Rand came to the door and opened it to whisper, “How about a kiss now in preparation for our good-night ritual? It's good to prime the pump, so to speak. Wouldn't want rust to form.”

“I'm not some pump to be
primed
.” Though she glowered, inside she glowed like a beacon guiding ships to safety. She waggled her finger. “I agreed to one each night. Don't go trying to change the rules, mister. Besides, your mother is here.”

His grin vanished. “What does she want?”

“Two things. She had her feelings trampled on because we didn't tell her about the wedding, and secondly, she wanted to see her granddaughter,” Callie said, keeping her voice low.

“Guess I oughta come in and say hello.”

She followed him into the parlor, intending to act as a buffer in case they needed one. As they neared, she heard their visitor singing a beautiful lullaby. Rand stopped and stiffened. His face froze.

“What is it, Rand?”

“I've heard that song before. Nothing. It's nothing.” He touched her cheek with a fingertip and they moved on.

When they entered the room, Abigail looked up with big tears in her eyes. “Rand, I love this precious little girl. She's stolen my heart.”

“She has mine too, Mother.”

“I never knew how special being a grandmother was.”

“Just don't go spoiling her.”

“I most certainly can if I want to,” she huffed.

“Relax.” Rand shoved a hand through his hair and then jammed his hat back on. “I didn't mean it as an order.”

“I put tea on,” Callie said, hoping to defuse the situation. Rand and his mother were like oil and water. One word could set tempers flaring. She prayed for the wisdom to know what to say. “How are things in town, Abigail? Did the new hotel open? The Texas Cattleman's, isn't it?”

“Yes. It's slated to welcome patrons next week. Mr. Lexington is quite beside himself with fear that they'll steal his business. He's working night and day to complete the renovations to the Lexington Arms. Of course, with rumors of that horrible outlaw running rampant, the citizens are on edge. I keep my doors locked.”

“That's an excellent idea,” Callie murmured. Everyone should take extra precautions against the stone-cold killer.

“You shouldn't have driven out, Mother—it's not safe. I worry about you traipsing across the countryside.”

Rand seemed to have said the magic words, because Abigail beamed. “It's nice to know you care. I'm very careful and I always keep the derringer in my pocket loaded. Besides, George Lexington rode out with me. I left him at Cooper's Four Promises ranch so he could check on a nephew who just hired on. I'll pick George up on the way back.”

“Coop is here working on the house. He will escort you back to the ranch. Let him know when you want to leave.”