The Blessed Blend (5 page)

Nancy Jo frowned. “Callie Michelle Hawken! That kind of sarcasm is why you’re still single at your age!”

“I’m twenty-four, Aunt Nancy Jo,” Callie said. “That’s hardly old.”

“And that disposition of yours could use some improvement. No man wants a woman who’s mean as a snake,” Aunt Nancy Jo chided.

“Well, if you want the milk, the horns come with the heifer,” Callie shot back. “If a man can’t accept me as I am then the hell with him!”

Nancy Jo gave Callie a sour look. The girl was darned near hopeless when it came to getting a man. Too ornery. Too mouthy. Too smart. The ones she didn’t scare off with her backwoods Indian attitude she ran off by talking about subjects ten miles over their heads. She couldn’t even flirt, for pity’s sake! Her plain brown hair was pulled back in that same old long braid. No make-up, not even a bit of lip gloss. And just look at the way she was dressed - faded blue jeans, a worn flannel shirt with an old blue-gray corduroy shirt over it, a pair of old hiking boots, and that beat-up old gray felt broad-brimmed hat. There was nothing there to attract a quality man, especially one of means. Maybe if she’d get her hair cut and styled, put some blonde highlights in it, and….

Nancy Jo went through her mental catalogue of things Callie could do to improve herself. Wouldn’t do any good to tell the girl any of it, though. Might as well try to talk sense into a stone.

Jim came out of the front door of the lodge, followed by their clients. Callie eyed them each in turn, gauging them. The first man she figured to be the Spaniard from his dark hair and eyes and olive complexion. Average height, fit frame, arrogant set to his mouth and eyes. Late thirties or early forties.

 
The next man, the German, had graying brown hair and hazel eyes, ruddy complexion, tall and basically fit if a bit thick about the waist. Probably in his early fifties. He and the Spaniard had
corporate executive/hereditary aristocracy
written all over them. Men used to power and prestige and all of the perks thereof. Such men were not used to taking orders from those they considered underlings and would probably be a pain in the ass, and the Spaniard more so than the German.

American Number One had brown hair, ice-blue eyes, and a jaded countenance. He eyed Callie and her children dismissively, giving her the impression that the three of them together didn’t add up to the little toe on a piss-ant in his estimation.

She didn’t think a whole hell of a lot of him, either.

American Number Two had blond hair and brown eyes, sun-tanned skin, a tall muscular build, and sharply chiseled features that were beginning to show middle age. He looked like a rich playboy who probably had a surgically-enhanced trophy wife waiting at home for him.

The twins ran to their grandfather. Jim laughed, swinging them up and hugging them before setting them down and turning to Callie.
 
He smiled and hugged her as he asked, “How’s it going, Baby Doll?”

“Fine, Dad,” Callie replied. “Our guests?”

“Yes ma’am!” Jim said as he began introductions. Senor Rigoberto Arias y Sandoval of Cordova, Spain. Herr Pieter Richthoffer of Essen, Germany. Mike Voorhees of Martha’s Vineyard. Cal McConnell of Galveston, Texas.

Callie greeted each man politely with a level eye, steady voice, and firm handshake. The contest of wills was already on just like so many times before. Callie was barely five feet tall and aware that these men were looking down on her literally and figuratively, probably thinking there wasn’t much to her and they could just run right over her.

Boy, were they in for a shock.

While the first round of introductions were going on, two more men came up behind to join the group. Callie saw them peripherally, but focused on the men she was being introduced to out of politeness as well as to assess them more intently. To be forewarned was to be well armed as the old saying went and she wanted to be able to anticipate the problems that might arise.

Just as Jim began to introduce Scotsman Number One, the man stuck out a bear-paw of a hand and said, “John MacQueen, miss. Pleased tae meet ye!”

Callie took his hand, noticing the firm yet gentle grip. He was very tall, probably six-seven, and broad enough across the shoulders to make two of the other clients. His wavy blond hair was pulled back in a braid and his rough-hewn face sported a neatly clipped horseshoe moustache with a small patch of beard on his chin. There was a genuinely friendly look in his blue eyes and he seemed very familiar for some reason.

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” she returned. “Welcome to our mountains.”

Callie turned to greet Scotsman Number Two and the universe came to a screeching halt. She heard Jim’s voice out there somewhere but it was drowned out by the thundering of her own heart. Her mouth went dry and the air went out of her lungs as she looked into a pair of intimately familiar eyes and her nostrils caught a scent that had haunted her dreams.

It couldn’t be.

It was.

Euan Wallace. The father of her children. The first and only man she had ever loved or made love with.

The bastard who had broken her heart and insulted her honor.

Her mind reeled and her heart skittered, and she was afraid that she was about to stumble and fall. Why was he here? Did he know?

Her eyes flew to his companion, John MacQueen. Of course.
Big
John. She should have recognized Euan’s bosom buddy. How the hell many men stood that tall or broad? His hair was longer than it had been four years back and he had shaved off that wooly beard, but it was him alright. Euan’s self-appointed body guard. If Euan needed muscle, John would more than fill the bill.

In an instant a cold fear gripped her. Euan’s family was extremely wealthy and if he was here to take the children there would be little she could do to stop him. That kind of money could buy off county officials easily.

Time seemed to stand still, holding Callie in a warp. It was real but unreal, her head felt light but her legs had turned to lead. She couldn’t think and yet her thoughts were flying through her head at light speed.

She stared at this man, this intimate stranger. She knew this face with its Celtic features - slanted cheekbones and eyes, long nose, sensuous mouth - looking like some elven lord of old. She knew this body, every inch of the tall, perfectly masculine frame. She knew this musky, earthy, male scent. Knew how it felt to be in his arms with him inside her, and longing began pooling warmly between her legs.

But she didn’t know him, not anymore, and probably never really had.

Then why was her body responding to him like it used to? As if the past four years since his betrayal of her had never happened? Oh dear God, was she still such a fool for him?

Memories flooded her mind. The day they had met. The dance he had taken her to that first night and others over that summer. The evenings at the local pub talking, laughing, playing darts, singing.
 
That deep, rumbling laughter of his and how easily she could evoke it with her jokes and funny stories. Working side-by-side on his croft. Hiking in the Grampians. The first dinner she had fixed for him in his small cottage. The rainy day they had started out playing chess and ended up making love for the first time and she had given him her virginity.

She remembered the feel of her hand in his, his arm around her shoulders. His arms around her. Their first kiss and all that followed. The way his deep voice tickled her ears and thrilled her whole being. Falling in love. All of the passion and desire that had run through her like molten fire, passion he had awakened and stoked until it had consumed her. How she had lived and breathed him for three months.

And how he had crushed her heart under his heel with a few words. How it had taken every ounce of self-control she’d had not to burst into tears in front of him. How she had fought the leaden weight on her soul to get her things together and go home when her heart had cried out for her to stay and hope for him to come around to the fact that they were going to have a baby. Going against her family by refusing to tell them anything about him. Going through pregnancy and childbirth alone. Holding herself together through the weeks and months and years that followed. Seeing him every time she looked at her children and hiding from them the sorrow, loss, and anger she felt towards their father.

All of this rushed in like a torrent that was both crushing and tearing her apart. She felt helpless at the onslaught and was shamed by her weakness. She couldn’t even muster enough of the hatred she had convinced herself that she felt for him to break this spell she was bound up in.

Euan had spent the last three months wondering what he would feel when he stood face-to-face with Callie again. When he had seen her emerge from the woods desire had smacked him across the face before heading straight to his groin, and guilt had kicked him in the groin before wrenching his gut and stabbing at his heart. The sight of his children filled him with a joy he had never felt before and tears had welled in his eyes. His whole world had shifted to the three people on the back of a buckskin-colored horse and he realized that he no longer cared what he might have to give up for them.

Now that she stood before him his gaze swept across her features like a caress and his hands itched to follow. He noticed that the blue-gray of her over-shirt matched the color of her eyes and complemented her coloring. He wasn’t turned off by her backwoods attire at all. This was Callie, this was who she was.

Her hair was longer but still looked as silky as he remembered it, and the little curvy body hidden under those loose-fitting clothes was as enticing as it had been four years back. The breeze carried her clean, sweet, earthy scent to his nostrils and he remembered the scent of her feminine musk as well. His heart thundered, his pulse quickened, and his loins tightened. She still turned him on like no other woman. He knew then for certain that he loved her.

Always had.

Always would.

But he had hurt her, turned on her and away from her when she had done nothing to deserve it. He hadn’t been there for her as she had carried his bairns, gone through birthing them into this world, and cared for not one but two helpless infants through all the days and nights that had followed. He had been a bloody fool and a coward, and there was nothing he could do to make up for what he had done.

If she hated him, he deserved it.

If her family wanted to beat the hell out of him, he deserved that, too.

So the two of them stood there, immobilized by their memories and feelings, by the years of anger and guilt and sorrow, and the shock of the present. Moments seemed to stretch out into eternity and yet neither could move nor speak. The rest of the world had fallen away.

But the rest of the world was right there watching.

Jim’s eyes flew from his grandchildren to this Scottish stranger and made the connection instantly. So did everyone else and the rest of the guests looked uncomfortable and nervous.

Caleb swore.

Mike gave a low whistle and slowly shook his head.

Nancy Jo’s eyes widened and her mouth opened and closed without making a sound… and without hell freezing over as Jolena had so often warned would happen if anything ever shut the woman up.

Even Brutus looked confused, as if unsure whether his mistress was in danger or meeting a mate, so he whined and growled while wagging his tail slowly and looking from one to the other.

Four gray shadows came out of the woods and loped to within twenty yards of the group of humans, stopping with hackles raised and their ears and eyes focused intently upon their alpha.

Five of the human strangers saw the wolves and nearly wet their pants.

And just as the silence between Callie and Euan grew deafening and threatened to engulf all around them like a black hole, a small voice asked, “Mama, is this our daddy?”

Callie felt something tugging on her hand. She looked down and saw Mountain Rose. The child was saying something but it sounded weird, as if Callie was standing by the sea with her head in a bucket.

Mountain Rose spoke again. “Mama, I said
is this my daddy?
”

The child noticed the blank look on her mother’s face and felt confused and a bit frightened. She tugged again on Callie’s hand. “Mama, are you alright? Are you sick?” She turned to her grandfather and asked, “Grandpa, what’s wrong with Mama? She’s not hearing me!”

Red Wolf stepped forward and looked up at Euan, his dark eyes searching the stranger’s face. Gifted with exceptional discernment, the boy read the man and saw his soul. Still looking at Euan, he stated matter-of-factly, “This
is
our daddy. He’s come for us.”

That was all it took to get Callie moving. Pulling her hands free from her children’s she stepped towards Euan with her eyes narrowed and chin lifted defiantly. “Touch my children and I’ll kill you!” she snarled.

Jim saw Callie’s eyes turn gun-metal gray and her face harden to stone. Knowing that she was armed and in a highly agitated state, he took her by the shoulders and placed himself between her and the Scotsman. Over his shoulder he ordered Caleb, “Go get your mother!”

Caleb ran inside the lodge calling for Darlene and seconds later both of them came flying out the door.

Darlene took Mountain Rose and Red Wolf by their hands and led them into the lodge. The children were beginning to become frightened and looked back at their mother, their anxiety visible in their widened eyes and knit brows.

Jim barked at Euan and John, “You two, inside!
Now!
Find a place and sit down!”

Both complied without a word.

“Tell your pack to go home, Callie,” he said firmly.

Callie looked at the pack, pointed up the mountain, and commanded,
“Owenvsv danigi!”
The wolves looked at her for a moment and she repeated the command. Much to the relief of the guests, they melted back into the woods.

Still holding Callie, Jim looked at Mike. “You’re going to have to guide our guests to camp. I’m guessing the Scottish ones won’t be going, so leave their gear here. Go grab you some gear and get these other gentlemen on their horses and underway.”

“Which horse you want me to ride, Uncle Jim?” Mike asked. “I ain’t ridin’ that evil witch of Callie’s.”

“Hell, I don’t care!” Jim responded, somewhat exasperated. The past few minutes had been more of a show than the guests had paid for and if he couldn’t keep Callie from losing it this could end up on international news. “Ride Bubbles! He wouldn’t buck if you put a field full of burrs up under his blanket! Get Callie’s rifle and scabbard just in case you run into some hogs.”

Mike shrugged and moved to do as he’d been told. Jim looked at the remaining guests and said, “If you gentlemen will wait just a minute, we’ll get you on your way to camp.”

The four men nodded and moved toward the waiting horses. The Texan said to the other American, “That’s one hell of a family reunion, don’t you think? Thought we might get to see a real hillbilly feud!”

The other man responded, “I wasn’t sure if we were going to revisit
Deliverance
or
Dances with Wolves
myself, but I’d pay handsomely for the privilege of shooting one of those wolves. Too bad they’re a protected species here.”

Jim looked at Caleb. “You go with Mike and help him get those men to camp. Once you get there, grab Callie’s gear and head back. I’ve got a feeling that the shit’s overdue to hit the fan.”

Caleb protested. “Dad, shouldn’t I be here in case something goes wrong? Callie looks like she wants to kill that
unega
in the worst way.”

 
“I’ll handle her. I need you to do what I asked.” He looked at his oldest son. “This is a family matter, understand? Keep it to yourself. Your girlfriend ain’t your wife.”

Caleb nodded. He loved Lacie but she would blab this all over the mountains in less time than it took to breathe. He turned and walked over to the guests to get them matched up to the horses. These were well-broke, locally-bred gaited trail horses with the disposition and smarts to handle riders who were complete idiots. Which was frequently the case.

Jim turned to his daughter and made her look up at him. “Callie, listen to me,” he said gently but firmly. “It’s high time all of this got straightened out. We’re going to go in there and you and that feller are both going to have to do some talking. Understand?”

Callie’s eyes shone hard and cold. “I hate that bastard! If he tries to take my children I’ll kill him before he so much as touches them!”

“You will
not
kill anyone, Callie!” Jim ordered. “If this man is their father, he has some rights. We need to find out why he’s here, and if he’s here for the kids we need to know how he found out.” He cupped her cheek with his hand. “No one’s taking my grandkids anywhere, Baby Doll. Now let’s go inside and start sorting this mess out.”

With a hand on Callie’s shoulder, Jim entered the lodge. “Get back, Brutus!” he said as he blocked the dog from coming through the door. “You wait out here on the porch.”

The front room of the lodge had an old-style hearth big enough to roast a haunch of beef in, with andirons capable of holding a log over two feet in diameter and three feet long. A large log of white oak burned slowly on the grate. A large hook built into one side of the fire place held a cast-iron kettle which held a simmering potpourri of cinnamon, nutmeg, and other spices to provide a warm, comforting aroma.

The air was anything but comfortable. Darlene sat with the kids on one end of the large sectional sofa, her dark eyes full of wary concern when looking at Euan and John and fierce love when focused upon her grandchildren. Mountain Rose and Red Wolf hugged their grandmother but stared at Euan and John, their little faces showing mostly wariness and curiosity.

John leaned against the wall to the left of the hearth, his muscular arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed at the ankles. He had rolled his sleeves up for comfort, figuring that things might well get heated and that they would most likely be there a while. His long golden braid fell across one shoulder and brushed the fair thick hair of his forearms. A thick cuff of Celtic knots was tattooed on each wrist, making him look like one of his fierce ancestors. Those who knew John MacQueen well knew that he worked hard, played hard, and had no tolerance for dishonesty or stupidity, but also that he was mostly a good-natured teddy bear loved and mauled by children everywhere he went.