Heartbreaker (30 page)

"You never said anything about staying,
either."

"How could I? This is your house. It was
up to you."

"Good manners be damned," he
snapped. "I was going crazy, wondering if you were happy."

"Happy? I've been sick with it. You've
given me something that doesn't have a price on it." She lifted her nose
at him. "I've heard that mingling red blood with blue makes very healthy
babies."

He looked down at her with hungry fire in his
eyes. "Well, I hope you like babies, honey, because I plan on about
four."

"I like them very much," she said
as she touched her stomach. "Even though this is making me feel really
ghastly."

For a moment he looked puzzled, then his gaze
drifted downward. His expression changed to one of stunned surprise, and he
actually paled a little. "You're pregnant?"

"Yes. Since the night you came back from
your last trip to
Miami
."

His right brow lifted as he remembered that
night; the left side of his face was still too swollen for him to be able to
move it much. Then a slow grin began to widen his mouth, lifting the corners of
his mustache. "I was careless one time too many," he said with
visible satisfaction.

She laughed. "Yes, you were. Were you
trying to be?"

"Who knows?" he asked, shrugging.
"Maybe. God knows I like the idea. How about you?"

She reached for him, and he pulled her onto
his lap, holding her in his arms and loving the feel of her. She rubbed her
face against his chest. "All I've ever wanted is for you to love me. I
don't need all that expensive stuff; I like working on the ranch, and I want to
build my own ranch up again, even after we're married. Having your baby
is…just more of heaven."

He laid his cheek on her golden hair,
thinking of the terror he'd felt when he'd read her note. But now she was safe,
she was his, and he would never let her go. She'd never seen any man as married
as he planned to be. He'd spend the rest of his life trying to pamper her, and
she'd continue to calmly ignore his orders whenever the mood took her, just as
she did now. It would be a long, peaceful life, anchored in hard work and
happily shrieking kids.

It would be good.

Their wedding day dawned clear and sunny,
though the day before Michelle had resigned herself to having the wedding
inside. But Hurricane Carl, after days of meandering around like a lost bee,
had finally decided to head west and the clouds had vanished, leaving behind a
pure, deep blue sky unmarred by even a wisp of cloud.

Michelle couldn't stop smiling as she
dressed. If there were any truth in the superstition that it was bad luck for
the groom to see the bride on their wedding day, she and John were in for a
miserable life, but somehow she just couldn't believe it He had not only
refused to let her sleep in another room the night before, he'd lost his temper
over the subject. She was damn well going to sleep with him where she belonged,
and that was that. Tradition could just go to hell as far as he was concerned,
if it meant they had to sleep apart. She had noticed that he hadn't willingly
let her out of his sight since the morning they had caught Roger, so she
understood.

His rather calm acceptance of his impending
fatherhood had been a false calm, one shock too many after a nerve-wracking
morning. The reality of it had hit him during the night, and Michelle had
awakened to find herself clutched tightly to his chest, his face buried in her
hair and his muscled body shaking, while he muttered over and over, "A
baby. My God, a baby." His hand had been stroking her stomach as if he
couldn't quite imagine his child growing inside her slim body. It had become
even more real to him the next morning when even crackers couldn't keep her
stomach settled, and he had held her while she was sick.

Some mornings weren't bad at all, while some
were wretched. This morning John had put a cracker in her mouth before she was
awake enough to even open her eyes, so she had lain in his arms with her eyes
closed, chewing on her "breakfast." When it became evident that this
was going to be a good morning, the bridegroom had made love to the bride,
tenderly, thoroughly, and at length.

They were even dressing together for their
wedding. She watched as he fastened his cuff links, his hard mouth curved in a
very male, very satisfied way. He had found her lace teddy and garter belt
extremely erotic, so much so that now they risked being late to their own
wedding.

"I need help with my zipper when you've
finished with that," she said.

He looked up, and a slow smile touched his
lips, then lit his black eyes. "You look good enough to eat."

She couldn't help laughing. "Does this
mean we'll have to reschedule the wedding for tomorrow?"

The smile became a grin. "No, we'll make
this one." He finished his cuff links. "Turn around."

She turned, and his warm fingers touched her
bare back, making her catch her breath and shiver in an echo of delight. He
kissed her exposed nape, holding her as the shiver became a sensuous
undulation. He wouldn't have traded being with her on this particular morning
for all the tradition in the world.

Her dress was a pale, icy yellow, as was the
garden hat she had chosen to wear. The color brought out the bright sunniness
of her hair and made her glow, though maybe it wasn't responsible for the color
in her cheeks or the sparkle in her eyes. That could be due to early pregnancy,
or to heated lovemaking. Or maybe it was sheer happiness.

He worked the zipper up without snagging any
of the delicate fabric, then bent to straighten and smooth her skirt. He shrugged
into his jacket as she applied lipstick and carefully set the hat on her head.
The yellow streamers flowed gracefully down her back. "Are we ready?"
she asked, and for the first time he heard a hint of nervousness in her voice.

"We're ready," he said firmly,
taking her hand. Their friends were all waiting on the patio; even his mother
had flown up from Miami, a gesture that had surprised him but, on reflection,
was appreciated.

Without the shadow of Roger Beckman hanging
over her, Michelle had flowered in just these few days. Until she had made the
effort to confront Roger, to do something about him once and for all, she
hadn't realized the burden she'd been carrying around with her. Those black
memories had stifled her spirit, made her wary and defensive, unwilling to give
too much of herself. But she had faced him, and in doing so she had faced the
past. She wasn't helpless any longer, a victim of threats and violence.

Poor Roger. She couldn't help feeling pity
for him, even though he had made her life hell. At her insistence, John and
Andy had arranged for Roger to have medical tests immediately, and it hadn't
taken the doctors long to make a diagnosis. Roger had a slow but relentlessly
degenerative brain disease. He would never be any better, and would slowly
become worse until he finally died an early death, no longer knowing anyone or
anything. She couldn't help feeling grief for him, because at one time he'd
been a good, kind young man. She wished there were some help for him, but the
doctors didn't hold out any hope.

John put his arm around her, seeing the
shadows that had come into her eyes. He didn't share her sympathy for Beckman,
though perhaps in time he would be able to forget the moment when that pistol
had swung toward her. Maybe in a few centuries.

He tilted her head up and kissed her, taking
care not to smear her lipstick. "I love you," he murmured.

The sun came back out in her eyes. "I
love you, too."

He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.
"Let's go get married."

Together they walked down the stairs and out
to the patio, where their friends waited and the sun shone down brightly, as if
to apologize for the threat of a storm the day before. Michelle looked at the
tall man by her side; she wasn't naive enough to think there wouldn't be storms
in their future, because John's arrogance would always make her dig in her
heels, but she found herself looking forward to the battles they would have.
The worst was behind them, and if the future held rough weather and sudden
squalls…well, what future didn't? If she could handle John, she could
handle anything.