Here Comes the Bride (35 page)

Her mind clamored with fear—
why didn’t Gabriel move? Why didn’t he get off of her?

“Gabriel!” she cried, wriggling and squirming beneath him. Her efforts were futile, as he was far too heavy and her bindings made it impossible to move him. “Oh please, God, please . . .”

“Stay still,” he rasped in her ear. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she answered in a rush of air, offering a silent prayer of thanks. “Are you?”

“I’m fine.” He sat up, wrapped his arms around her, and squeezed as tight as he dared without snapping her in two. “What the hell did you think you were doing taking off with him? Why didn’t you just tell me . . . ?”

“Oh, Gabriel,” she sobbed, clutching his shirt in her hands. “He told me he’d kill you if I didn’t go with him and after what he did to Rosa and Miguel . . .”

“He what?” Gabe roared. “You left with him, knowing full well he killed them?”

Tess nodded solemnly. “I had to. He didn’t actually do it himself, but he said he paid someone to do it for him.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, hanging her head. “To get to me, I guess. I’m so sorry, Gabriel. If only I’d gone away like you tried to make me do so many times, then none of this would have happened.”

“Hush now,” he soothed. “None of this is your fault.”

“But if I’d stayed in Boston, Rosa and Miguel would still be alive and . . .”

“Stop it,” he said forcefully. “Just stop it. You didn’t do this, Tess, he did.”

“Is he . . . ?”

“No, but he’s hurt pretty bad. Just a minute,” he said, tugging at the ropes. Finally freed, she flung her arms around his neck and sobbed. When her eyes opened again, the sight before her made her want to gag. Her father lay on the ground in front of her, blood pooling beneath him; his eyes rolled up in their sockets, his tight lips twitching with every breath.

“Father!” she cried. “Oh, no!”

She fell in a heap beside him, running her hands over his face and hair. Harmon Stiles lay a few feet away, swearing like a banshee. And from out of nowhere, Bart appeared, towering over Stiles.

Gabe knelt beside Tess, taking her in his arms and turning her away from her father.

“He’s gone, Tess,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“No!” she sobbed. Her tiny hands flailed against Gabe’s chest, then suddenly stilled. She pushed Gabe away, rose to her feet, and flung herself at Harmon Stiles, beating him mercilessly with her balled fists.

“You did this!” she screeched. “You bastard!”

Harm cursed louder, swinging back at her with his one good arm, until Gabe lifted her in the air and pulled her out of his reach. So angry was Tess, so wild was her fury, she did the only other thing she could think of—she wound up and spat on Harmon Stiles, spat right in his face.

“I hate you,” she seethed. “I hope you rot in hell!”

She lifted her head and the whole world went black around her. If Gabe hadn’t been standing right behind her, she would have landed right back down in the dirt. He scooped her into his arms and stormed at Harmon.

“Gabe,” Bart warned.

“So help me, Stiles,” he spat through gritted teeth. “When I get through with you, you’ll be wishing I killed you right here.”

Stiles hurled more insults and curses at Gabe, but he had already turned and walked away, Tess’s limp form pressed against him.

Without any help, Bart somehow managed to saddle the hog-tied Stiles and the lifeless Stan Kinley onto their horses before easing Tess from his brother’s arm. Once Gabe was seated high on Zeus, Bart handed his wife back to him and mounted his own mare. And so began the long ride home, with a stop in Shelton to pay a visit to the sheriff and the local doctor.

The old medic pronounced Tess healthy but exhausted, and so far as he could tell, the child had not been harmed. Still, Gabe kept her right in the saddle with him, even when she weakly protested she was able to ride on her own.

Gabriel hardly spoke the rest of the ride home. His silence frightened Tess more than anything—he knew about the baby now, knew she’d lied to him. How on earth could she ever make that up to him?

“What the . . . ?” Bart’s voice drifted off as he spurred his horse toward the yard.

“Holy jumpin’ Jiminy,” Gabe whistled. “Would you look at that?”

In the last light of day, Tess could barely make out the shape of a building—a new building—right where she’d cleared land several days before.

As they approached, Collette and Wyatt Langman stepped out of the structure, Collette rushing past to greet them.

“Welcome home, Tess,” she cried, tears streaming down her face. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she smiled wanly. “Thank you.”

Gabe pushed his knee into the horse’s side and urged it forward, leaving his brother and Collette to their own welcome home greeting.

“Calloway,” Wyatt nodded. “Good to see you. We only got the one room together so far, but it’ll give you a roof over your head for now.”

Gabe was struck dumb for a moment. This was not the Wyatt Langman he’d grown up hating.

“I-I’m much obliged,” he finally said, sliding down from his saddle.

“Oh, Mr. Langman,” Tess choked. “I don’t know what to say. You are very kind . . .”

“Bah! Weren’t nothin’. Figured you’d be needin’ somethin’ to come home to eventually.” He shrugged as if his gesture had been nothing more than offering them a cup of coffee. “We’ll be back in the mornin’ and we’ll get to work on the rest of it.”

Gabe’s face tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbed, but no words would form. At last he managed a short nod of thanks.

Wyatt clapped him on the shoulder as he strolled by.

“You take care of that little girl,” he said, in reminiscence of Gabe and Tess’s wedding day. “Or you’ll have me to answer to.”

Gabe finally chuckled. “Won’t let her out of my sight.”

“Come on, Lettie,” Wyatt called, taking his horse by the reins. “Let’s let these people get settled.”

Collette’s nervous eyes flitted from Bart to her father.

“P-Pa,” she began, but he cut her off.

“I know what yer gonna say, and it ain’t right.”

“But Pa . . .”

“Let me finish,” he growled. “It ain’t right for you to be spendin’ so much time with that Calloway boy unless you’ve set a date.”

“Oh, Pa!” Collette squealed, throwing her arms around her father’s neck. “Do you really mean it?”

“Now now, that’s enough,” he said, pulling Collette’s arms away. A faint shimmer gleamed in his eyes when he turned to Bart. “Now don’t you go thinkin’ I’m doin’ this ’cuz I like ya—’cuz I don’t. Yer still a Calloway and I mean to hate the Calloway name ’til the day I die. Got that?”

Bart’s face broke into that stupid Calloway grin. “Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” he said. “Or can I call you Pa?”

“You cannot!” Wyatt bellowed good naturedly. “You ain’t family yet, Calloway!”

Collette kissed her father on the cheek, but Wyatt wasn’t finished yet—and this time his expression was sober.

“Weddin’ or no weddin’,” he said, pointing his crooked finger at Bart, “you git my daughter home at a respectable time, you hear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Wyatt mounted up and rode off, leaving the four of them alone. Bart took Zeus by the bit and disappeared into the barn with Collette.

“Come on, Tess,” Gabe murmured. “Let’s go see our new house.”

The small room was still bare wood, but someone—Collette, no doubt—had had the foresight to furnish it with an ample-sized mattress and fresh linens. Gabe sank down on the soft bed, falling back against the pillows with an exhausted sigh. Tess immediately crawled up beside him and snuggled up against his chest.

“Gabriel?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you hate me?”

“What?” He laughed. “Why would you even think that?”

“I lied to you,” she answered meekly. “About the baby I mean, and . . .”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” he asked softly.

“I wasn’t sure myself until you asked me that day and it was as if I just knew. I’m so sorry, Gabriel. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Tess,” he said, his voice like velvet. “I’m not going to lie to you, I was madder than hell when I first found out, but then I figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” she asked.

“You really love me.” He said it as though he had only just come to realize it. And apparently he had.

“Yes,” she breathed, snuggling closer. “I really do.”

“Tess?”

“Mmm?”

“Don’t
ever
do that to me again.” His voice was tight—almost as tight as the knot in his stomach.

Tess raised her head high enough to plant a million kisses along his jawline.

“I love you, Gabriel. I was trying to protect you,” she said. “I don’t know what I would do if something ever happened to you. I . . .”

“Don’t ever
do that to me again.”

“But I was trying to keep you safe, don’t you see?”

“Don’t ever do that
to me again.”

“Gabriel . . .”

“Okay.” She laughed. “You win—even if the world is falling to pieces around us, even if you turn into a miserable old troll, even if . . .”

“Stop!” he cried, pulling her into his embrace. “Even if the world falls to pieces because I’m an old troll, I want you right beside me—not in front of me, not behind me. Beside me. You got that?”

“I got it,” she said. “I got it. And I want you right beside me—every day, every minute, every second of my life.”

“Deal.”

They lay in silence for a time, both marveling at their extraordinary good fortune. Tess’s mind kept drifting back to their baby. A more loved child there could not possibly be, and she suddenly had the urge to start preparing for his arrival. She probably had seven months or so before he was due, but one couldn’t be too organized.

She tipped her head back so she could look in her husband’s handsome face.

“What do you think we should name him?” she asked.

“Who?” he said, sounding more than a little sleepy.

“Our son, Gabriel. He’s going to need a name.”

“Our son?” he yelped, sitting up. His huge hand rested across Tess’s belly, bringing an enormous smile to his face. “This here’s a daughter, Tess, you mark my words. She’ll be as beautiful as her mother and as clear thinking and rational as her father.”

Tess laughed for the first time in days.

“Modest, too, I bet.”

“Of course.”

“But I’m afraid you’re wrong,” she said. “It’s a boy.”

“Girl.”

“Boy.”

“Tess?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

And for once in her life, Tess Kinley Calloway did as she was told without argument, without a second thought.

Born the youngest of four girls, Laura quickly learned three important lessons: sisters are your best friends, always live in a home with more than one bathroom, and life is full of happy endings. And while Laura’s own life adventures have taken her from a small logging community in Southern British Columbia to the wilds of Canada’s arctic, she has always held fast to those ideas. She loves spending time with her family; made sure her home came equipped with two and a half baths; and continues to believe in, and write about, happy endings. She presently lives in the Northwest Territories with her husband and three sons.

ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

 

 

Kensington Publishing Corp.
850 Third Avenue
New York, NY 10022

 

Copyright © 2005 by Laura Drewry

 

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

 

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

 

Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

ISBN: 978-0-8217-7858-6