Hawk's Way: Callen & Zach (2 page)

Sam hadn’t wasted any time beginning his conquest of Callen. He wasn’t without charm, he simply chose not to employ it most of the time. There, at his father’s graveside, he let his gaze linger on Callen’s lips and then focus on her eyes. They were a warm, tobacco brown.

She flushed prettily. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You can meet me for dinner in Amarillo,” he said.

When he turned his gaze back to Garth at the graveside, he was pleased with the frown he saw on the other man’s face. He knew Garth wanted to warn him to keep his distance from Callen, but the older man kept his lips pressed tight as he whirled abruptly and walked away.

When all the other mourners were gone and Sam was finally alone in the tiny graveyard that held the mortal remains of generations of Longstreets, he stood near the cold headstone that marked his father’s final resting place and made a solemn vow to avenge his death.

“I promise you, Dad, however long it takes, no matter what I have to do, Garth Whitelaw is going to suffer for what he did to you.”

His courtship of Callen had been accomplished with surprising speed. He suspected she had felt sorry for him at first, and thus her barriers were all down. He had swept her off her feet with honeyed words and a few
searing kisses. He hadn’t bedded her, using old-fashioned morals as an excuse. His charade of respect and caring had worked even better than he had hoped. Within weeks she had fallen in love with him. When he proposed, she had accepted with tears of joy in her eyes.

The best part had been when Garth Whitelaw came to the Double L with his checkbook open, asking how much Sam wanted to call off the wedding.

“I don’t want your money, Whitelaw.” Sam hadn’t been able to keep from smiling. Garth was a fool to think he was going to be able to pay for his guilt with cash.

“I know you need money to keep the Double L from foreclosure. Tell me how much, and I’ll loan it to you interest free,” Garth offered.

“I don’t want or need your help,” he retorted. Truthfully, he was surprised that Garth had tried to buy him off with that particular offer. Sam figured the man must have had some other plan in mind to put the Double L in his debt. He wasn’t going to fall for it.

“I want you to stay away from Callen,” Garth said.

“She’s a grown woman. She can make her own decisions.”

“She’s made her share of bad ones.”

“And I’m a bad one?”

“The worst.”

“Does Callen know you’re here?”

Garth shifted restlessly, uneasily. “No.”

A wicked grin split Sam’s face as he relished Garth’s discomfort. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell her you tried to buy me off.”

Garth hadn’t bothered thanking him, just stalked
down the rickety stairs that led from Sam’s sagging front porch, gunning the engine of his pickup as he headed down the dusty road.

So far, Callen had remained firm in the face of her family’s disapproval. Sam had to admire her for that. He fought back the nagging conscience that told him it was wrong to hurt an innocent woman for the transgressions of her father. He was only doing what was necessary to avenge the wrong done to E.J. Garth Whitelaw hadn’t given a thought to Sam’s pain when he had ruined Sam’s father. He quieted his conscience with the thought that when it was all over, Callen would still be alive. E.J. was gone forever.

The wedding was tomorrow. He wondered if Garth would find some way to stop it. He hoped the older man tried. It would surely put a wide breach between Garth and his daughter. It was a breach Sam intended to extend until father and daughter were totally alienated.

Sam swallowed the bitter bile that rose in his throat when he thought of the senselessness of his father’s death. He needed the marriage to Callen to achieve his revenge against her father. It was important to guard against feeling anything for her. He had to bear in mind that Callen Whitelaw was just a tool he was using to achieve his goal of revenge. He had to forget about the softness of her skin, the sweetness of her kisses, the look of adoration and trust in her eyes.

Sam’s lips pressed flat. When it came time to say his vows before the judge, he would do it. And crush the conscience that urged him to let the girl go free.

C
ALLEN CAME ALONE TO THE COUNTY COURTHOUSE
for her wedding. Her father had held fast to his vow to be absent, and her mother had refused to side against her father. Her brother, Falcon, couldn’t leave Dallas because his wife, Mara, was pregnant and near term, and her brother, Zach, had told her plainly that she was making the worst mistake of her life, and he wasn’t going to be a part of it. In a privileged existence that had been marked by periods of loneliness, Callen had never felt so alone.

As she paced the hardwood floor in front of the judge’s chambers dressed in an antique lace dress, wearing an ivory felt cloche and carrying a pungent bouquet of gardenias, Callen wondered whether she was playing the fool. Was her family right? Was Sam actually a fortune hunter?

Callen glanced at her watch. Sam was late. For a half second she wondered whether he might not show up at all. Before that thought could take root, she saw him come through the imposing double doors of the courthouse. As glad as she was to see him, Callen couldn’t help the feeling of foreboding that wedged in her throat and made it difficult to speak.

Sam walked right up to her, reached for her hands
and took them in his. “You look beautiful,” he murmured.

Unfortunately there was no way Callen could honestly return the compliment. In fact, she was sorely disappointed by Sam’s appearance. “You didn’t dress up.”

Sam flushed. “No.”

No excuse, no explanation, just no. His sun-bleached hair was shaggy and needed a cut, nor had he shaved for at least a day. His boots were worn, and his jeans were frayed. He looked like he hadn’t slept for a week, and if he had, he’d done it in his clothes. The sun-lined face that had become so dear to her was carved in granite. And his green eyes, the kind, tender eyes that had made her fall in love with him, looked as hard as cut glass.

Callen shivered. Sam seemed a stranger. This was a side of him she had never seen. He was the saddle tramp Zach had named him, shady and disreputable. Two spots of heat rose on her cheeks when she thought of the scathing comments her father would have made if he had seen her bridegroom looking like this. Callen was ashamed and embarrassed by Sam’s appearance. The thought flashed across her mind that she ought to run like hell from Sam, from this marriage.

She couldn’t look at Sam, afraid he would see what was in her thoughts. Appearances shouldn’t matter, she told herself. She had known Sam was poor. She had seen him unshaven in the past, in fact, had seen him in the same Western shirt and jeans he was wearing now. But that didn’t ease her worry. She had expected Sam to treat their marriage, the ceremony at least, with the same reverence she felt. After all, they were beginning a new life together. If anything, Sam’s appearance evidenced
contempt for the ritual of marriage. Obviously she had mistaken his feelings on the subject.

What else are you mistaken about, Callen?

Callen fought back the voices of her father and her brother, both of whom had warned her not to marry Sam. She opened her mouth to tell Sam she couldn’t go through with it and shut it again. She couldn’t be wrong about Sam. She refused to be wrong about Sam. There must be some good reason why he hadn’t taken the time to improve his appearance, an emergency on the ranch or some other disaster.

“Was there some trouble on the ranch this morning?” she asked.

“No.”

“No cattle stampede? Brush fire? Pack of howling wolves at the door?” she teased.

“No.”

She pursed her lips ruefully. “You overslept?”

“No.”

She couldn’t think of another reason that would explain Sam’s careless appearance…and he wasn’t offering one. She looked up into his green eyes, which softened slightly as he stared down at her, and waited for an explanation.

“I went to visit my father’s grave,” he said at last.

“Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed. Of course. He was still grieving. He must have stayed at the small, fenced plot too long, and then not had time to remedy his appearance. Now that she examined Sam’s face more closely, she saw red-rimmed eyes, a clenched jaw. Yes, he was definitely still grieving. It must be awful to know his father hadn’t lived to see his only son marry, hadn’t lived to know his grandchildren.

The thought of producing grandchildren brought a rosy glow to Callen’s cheeks. She had thought a lot about what it would be like to lie with Sam, to grow large with his child, to hold a baby in her arms and have Sam smile at her, as they admired their child together.

Callen reminded herself of everything she had learned about Sam over the past three months. He was kind. He was considerate. He was charming. He was even handsome in a rugged sort of way. And his eyes made her feel cherished and loved. Or at least they had. Perhaps it was the memory of his father, the grief and the sadness, that had stolen the warmth from his eyes and made him look so harsh and hard when she had first seen him today.

She loved Sam for who he was, not for the outer trappings of the man, not for his wealth—or lack of it—but for the way he made her feel. She squeezed Sam’s hands, raised her eyes to meet his and offered him a tremulous smile. “Come on, Sam. The judge is waiting.”

“Your family?”

She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “They’re not coming.”

“Then it’s just us?”

Callen nodded. Sam’s lips pressed flat and his eyes narrowed. For an instant she wanted to flee, to save herself from Sam, from the possibility of a failed marriage. But it would be devastating to break a
third
engagement. She wouldn’t be able to look her father in the eye. It was too late to back out now.

Callen took comfort in the thought that she knew Sam better than her father did. Sam would never hurt her. And if he did, her father would never hear of it from her. She would do whatever was necessary to make the
marriage a good one. As one of the Three Whitelaw Brats, and with a lifetime of outmaneuvering and outsmarting two older brothers to her credit, she had developed the ability to rescue herself from the toughest situations. She loved Sam. Somehow, this was all going to work out.

She looked up at Sam, her heart in her eyes. There was a flash of some strong emotion on his face before he kissed her with a combination of tenderness and fierceness that left her breathless. The thought came to her, powerful and overwhelming.
I want to spend my life with this man
.

“Come on,” Sam grated in a husky voice. “Let’s go.”

S
AM FELT LIKE SOBBING WITH RELIEF
—and disgust. He had done what he could to keep Callen Whitelaw from walking into disaster, but she hadn’t backed away in time to save either of them. He led her toward the judge’s chambers. It was time to take the next step on his trail of vengeance.

His eyes were red-rimmed because he hadn’t slept. His conscience had smote him the day before the wedding, demanding that he free Callen from the devil’s bargain he was about to make with her. He had tried desperately to think of a way to take his vengeance on Garth Whitelaw directly, without involving his daughter. But he couldn’t think of anything that was as likely to cause Garth the same pain he endured himself as stealing someone he loved away from him.

In endeavoring to free Callen from the morass into which he had drawn her, Sam made a stunning discovery. He wanted her. Somehow during the course of winning her admiration, he had come to admire her, as
well. She had a wicked sense of humor, a smile that flashed often enough to lift even his leadened heart, skin softer than silk, and lips as sweet as anything he had ever tasted. His groin tightened at the mere thought of bedding her. He suspected his desire for her had contributed to his inability to come up with another route of vengeance.

By the same token, because he had allowed Callen to get under his skin, it was going to be difficult to hurt her, as he must if he was going to achieve his goal of hurting her father. In the early hours of the morning, wretchedly alone, with the grief of his father’s death making his stomach spin and his chest ache, he had come up with the idea of presenting himself to Callen in such a state of disarray that she would be the one to back away from him. He couldn’t push her away; she was going to have to leave him of her own accord.

It hadn’t worked.

Callen’s family had sheltered her from the harsher facts of life, and with the confidence of the innocent, she had simply looked past the facade he had erected to shove her away and embraced the man she found beyond it. He sighed inwardly, damning her for making him want her even more, damning himself for being bastard enough to go through with his plan.

They had reached the door to the judge’s chamber when Callen’s eldest brother showed up. Sam eyed Zach warily, aware of the animosity on the other man’s face.

Callen appeared delighted by Zach’s arrival. “Zach! You came!” She let go of Sam’s hand and flung herself into her brother’s open arms.

Sam met Zach’s narrowed eyes over Callen’s head
and knew the other man would do whatever he could to stop the wedding. Sam welcomed the coming fight with relish. He had wanted—needed—to hit out at the injustice of his father’s death. With Garth unavailable, Zach Whitelaw made a very satisfying target.

“I’m so glad you changed your mind and decided to come,” Callen said with breathless excitement. “I would have gone through with the wedding even if no one from the family came, but I’m so glad to have someone to stand beside me.”

“I’m not here to support you,” Zach said in a hard voice.

Callen stepped back, aware suddenly of the hostility that bristled between her tall, intimidating brother and the lean, dangerous man who would soon be her husband. Her heart sank. There was no way the two of them were going to be reconciled in the few minutes she had before the wedding. If it came to a choice, Callen knew she would go with Sam. That would surely make Zach even angrier.

Callen stared up at her brother. “Why did you come, Zach?”

Zach’s eyes were on Sam. “To tell the sonofabitch you’re getting set to marry that if he lays one hand on you, if he hurts you in any way, he’ll have to answer to me.”

Callen heard Sam’s hiss as he took an outraged breath, felt his body stiffen, saw his stance widen for battle. She put herself between the two men, laying one hand on Zach’s chest and the other on Sam’s to keep them from coming to blows. “Please,” she said. “Don’t fight.”

When she turned to Zach, she found no sympathy in his dark eyes, only scorn and anger.

“You’re a fool to be marrying beneath yourself like
this,” Zach raged. “Take a good look at him, Callen. He’s a disgrace.”

When Callen didn’t immediately turn back to Sam, her brother put a strong hand on her chin and forced her face around toward her bridegroom. Callen shook herself free as she heard Sam’s growl of challenge.

“Let her go!”

“She’s my sister. I’ll do as I please.”

“She belongs to me now,” Sam retorted. “You damn well better leave her alone.”

“The hell I will!”

“Stop it! Both of you!” Callen cried, shoving against two hard, heaving chests with the flat of her hands.

Zach continued his scorching castigation of her bridegroom without even taking a breath. His dark eyes burned as he held her gaze. “Think about who you’re going to marry,” he said ruthlessly. “Sam Longstreet barely made it through high school. He’s got no dreams, no goals. Hell, all he wants is your money! He’ll embarrass you in front of company because he looks like hell warmed over most of the time. Like now,” he said, nodding with his chin toward Sam. “Is that the way a bridegroom ought to dress for his wedding?”

Callen looked, then lowered her eyes. She had been willing to disregard Sam’s appearance, to excuse it. That was difficult with Zach standing beside her pointing out Sam’s faults. She felt a flush of embarrassment, then a burning resentment toward her brother and, to a lesser extent, toward Sam for putting her in the position of having to defend something she had condemned herself.

“What Sam’s wearing doesn’t matter to me,” she said stubbornly.

Zach grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her so she was facing him again. Her hand dropped away from Sam’s chest, but she was aware of him standing behind her, of the leashed tension that sizzled and threatened violence.

Then Zach was speaking, his face so close she could see the temper smoldering in his dark eyes. “The man doesn’t have any friends. You’ll be all alone once you’re living with him at the Double L,” he warned. “Don’t marry him, Callen. Put an end to this nonsense.”

“I love him,” Callen said in a quiet voice.

Zach pulled her into a protective embrace, almost crushing her with his strength. “God, Callen, what can I do to make you change your mind?”

“Nothing. I’m going to marry Sam, with or without your approval…or Daddy’s blessing.”

Zach’s next words were spoken low in her ear so there was no possibility of Sam overhearing. “When you decide to leave him, when you recognize your mistake, you’ll be welcome at my place.”

He levered her away and into Sam’s waiting arms. “Don’t forget what I said, Longstreet. You harm one hair on her head, and I’ll come after you.” Then he stalked past Sam and out the courthouse door.

Callen stood there with Sam’s arms wrapped comfortingly around her, hard-pressed to hold back the tears that threatened. The third time around she certainly hadn’t planned on a lavish wedding. But she would have liked some of her family to be there, and she would have liked her groom to be a little better dressed.

She raised her blurred gaze to Sam’s face and saw a flash of sympathy in his green eyes that disappeared so quickly she wasn’t sure it had been there in the first place.

“Do you still want to marry me?” Sam asked in a taunting voice. “Or has your brother talked you out of it?”

Sam was giving her one last chance to back out, Callen realized. She searched his eyes for any sign of the affection he had shown her during their courtship. It seemed strangely absent. She felt frightened. What if her family was right, and she was wrong? She couldn’t afford to make another mistake. But neither could she face the humiliation of crawling back home with her tail between her legs.