by Rebecca York
“I did, but it’s soaked.”
“Keep her quiet. Lower her head again. We’re sending someone.”
Carin lay with her eyes closed, barely hanging on to consciousness. “Something’s wrong,” she murmured. It took a great effort to say that much.
***
Gabe knelt over his wife. As he took in her pale skin and the flood of blood between her legs, a cold blade of fear stabbed him in the gut.
“They’re sending help. You have to hang on,” he cried out, the words more a plea than an order. “Just hang on.”
Carin’s eyes blinked open, and she seemed to be swimming up from some cold ocean depth before she finally focused on him. “What?”
“Carin, I need you. Stay with me.”
Confusion clouded her eyes. “But . . . I thought. . .” The words trailed off.
Panic threatened to steal his sanity as he saw that the blood was still coming at the same alarming rate.
He watched her making a tremendous effort to center herself. When she started to speak, her voice was so weak that he had to lean over to hear what she was saying.
“Gabe, I love you.”
“Oh fates, I love you so much. Don’t leave me.”
“I thought. . .” she said again, as though she couldn’t believe what she had heard him say.
Finally, the words he should have spoken months ago poured out of him. “After I charged outside like an idiot, I didn’t know what to say to you. I stood there in the middle of the pasture like one of the cows.”
He reached for her limp hand, folding his fingers around hers, willing his strength into her even as he saw her life fading away.
“You hurt me,” he admitted. “And I didn’t know how to handle it.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
His hand tightened on hers. “I figured out how I felt, but I was so . . . ashamed.”
“Of what?”
He heard the regret and the desperation in his own voice. “Of acting like a fool. I was working my way up to talking to you, but I thought I had more time.”
She was speaking again, the words a bare whisper. “Make sure she’s okay.”
“You’ll be here to help me.”
“No. I’m so cold. . . too cold.”
“Carin, you have to stay with me.”
She didn’t answer.
He wasn’t sure how long he knelt over her—praying to gods he had never much believed in. Begging them to save her.
Dimly he heard an engine whine somewhere close and looked wildly around. Two men wearing rocket suits designed for ultrafast travel burst through the door.
They charged across the room, pushed him out of the way none too gently and knelt over Carin’s limp body. He heard them conferring urgently, watched them set up a blood transfusion line, then do other things he couldn’t see.
One of them picked up the baby and handed it to him, and he cradled the small bundle tenderly in his arms. Carin’s child. Would this new life be the only thing he had left?
The infant was crying softly. To comfort himself as much as to comfort the baby, he crooked his finger and stuck the knuckle in her mouth, feeling her suck hard as he murmured low words to her, telling her the medics were taking care of her mommy, and she was going to be okay. As he spoke, he was still praying for it to be true.
An eternity passed before one of the men stood and turned to him.
“She’s a tough woman. It was close, but she’s going to be all right.”
“Thank the gods.”
We have a medical bed—like the one you used a few months ago. She should stay in it for a couple of days, but she doesn’t have to be sedated. And she should nurse the baby.”
“We need stuff for the baby,” he choked out. “Diapers. Some clothing.”
“Yeah, we noticed there were no infant purchases on your credit list. And she should have started coming in for checkups when she realized she was pregnant.”
“I know.” He ran his free hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. My fault.”
“What were you thinking?” the man demanded.
From the comms unit, Harrison inserted himself into the conversation. “Don’t beat up on him. He’s had a pretty rough patch.”
The medic’s gaze shot to the holo image, then he shook his head and walked away. Gabe knew Harrison could be referring to his getting mauled by the granling—and then almost having his wife die in childbirth, but he was pretty sure the tech had figured out why Gabe had gone off his rocker in the first place. For a moment he almost let his knee-jerk reaction take over again. Instead he faced the comms unit and said,
“Thanks.”
The medic nodded. “Let me make sure I have everything spelled right on the birth certificate. Mother: Carin Cooper. Father: Gabriel Cooper.”
Gabe’s throat tightened, but he managed to say, “Right.”
“Time of birth, twelve thirty-five a. m.” He looked up at Gabe. “I’ll send a starter pack of baby clothes and supplies in the morning—and charge it to your account.”
“Thank you.”
One of the other men brought in the special bed and inflated it. Gabe helped lift Carin into it, then listened to instructions.
“She’ll need more transfusions.”
“Right.”
“There’s some danger of infection, but as long as she’s in the bed, we can monitor her status from Central.”
One of the medics took the baby into the kitchen and washed her off, then dressed her in a tiny shirt and diaper and handed her back to Gabe.
From the comms unit, Harrison said, “And I’ll check in tomorrow morning to see how you’re doing—and answer any questions.”
The medic clicked off, and the techs who had saved Carin’s life exited the house. Gabe heard their high-powered engine rev, and then they were gone—leaving him alone with his wife and baby.
He lowered the infant into the crook of Carin’s arm. She had been dozing, but as she felt her child, her eyes blinked open.
“I’m still here,” she whispered, looking around the room as though she couldn’t believe she was still alive.
“Yes. Thank the fates.”
“And those medics. Are they gone?” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
She lifted her questioning gaze to his. “Did I hear you right? You said you love me?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you hated me.”
He swallowed hard. “I did, for about ten minutes. Then I put myself in your shoes. I was coming back when that granling got me.”
“But you woke up while you were supposed to be sedated in the bed, and you were angry with me.”
“I was?” he asked, surprised by the statement.
“It sounded that way.” Her gaze turned inward. “Maybe I was hearing what I expected to hear—because I felt so bad about lying to you.”
“When push came to shove, you didn’t lie.”
“I loved you too much to do it. But I kept putting off the inevitable.”
“You were in a tough spot.” He swallowed again. “I guess I should explain—about where my head was at.” He stopped then started again, forcing himself to speak about something so private that he’d needed to keep it to himself. Now his only choice was to make himself clear. “I knew I loved you. I wanted you to stay with me. But I had a lot of trouble dealing with the pregnancy.”
“And you weren’t sure you wanted to keep the baby?” she asked softly.
“I knew you and the baby were a package. But I didn’t know I loved her, too, until I saw her and held her.”
“Oh Gabe. I guess I understand why you were so distant, but it was like a blade cutting into me, every time you looked away from me.”
“I’m sorry. At night, in the firelight when you were lying on the couch, I looked at you.”
“And I longed for you to come over and hold me. I didn’t even know if you were going to let me stay—or send me away.”
<
br /> “Crayton! I was only thinking of myself, not how it was affecting you.”
She gave a small nod.
“And once I got into the pattern, I couldn’t break it—except when you came to me that night.”
“I thought that night might be our last.”
He cursed again. “I’m not so good at . . . sharing my feelings.”
“I understand why.”
He reached for her hand and knitted his fingers with hers. “There’s one more thing I should say—about me. After I woke up for real, I was . . . embarrassed that I’d let myself get mauled like a pup. I’ve laughed behind the backs of guys who got caught that way. It’s part of the Palomar guy culture.”
She answered with a small nod. “Maybe the wives will change that.”
“I’ve got to let that go. I was working my way up to telling you how I felt about you. About us. I thought I had more time. Then everything started happening so fast that my head was spinning.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
He settled down beside his wife and child, leaning over to gently stroke his lips against Carin’s brow. “My mother’s name was Rowan,” he said. “I always thought that if I ever had a daughter, I’d name her after Mom. Would that be okay with you?”
He saw her stare at him as if she hadn’t heard him right. “You want to name her after your mother?”
“Yes. Our daughter.”
He saw tears glisten in her eyes. “Our daughter?”
“She’s mine. I couldn’t say that until now. But it’s true. I want to be her father, in every way that counts. She’ll grow up here on this homestead—except when she goes away to the central school for part of each year. But not until she’s a little older.”
“Oh, Gabe.”
He gently gathered her and the baby to him, knowing this was what he had wanted for so long—a family to love and cherish. It just hadn’t come to him in the way he had expected.
Epilogue
It was long after dark, and Carin sat in bed propped up against the pillows, nursing her daughter. The baby was four months old now and a major part of their life on the farmstead.
She and Gabe had worked out a schedule so that one of them was always in the house with Rowan. And Gabe had insisted that Carin still make time in the afternoons to rest.
Now she looked up at him, and their eyes locked.
“She’s almost finished,” he said in a thick voice.
“Uh huh.”
Rowan drifted off to sleep. Carin gently used her finger to detach the nipple from the infant’s mouth, and Gabe lifted her away.
“I’ll change her and put her to bed.”
“Thanks.”
That was part of their routine, too. Gabe couldn’t nurse the baby, but he could do a lot of the other work that went with caring for their daughter.
Carin slid down in the bed and closed her eyes, thinking how lucky she was. She had a husband who loved her, who worked hard to support his family, and a baby they both doted on. They had talked about having more children, but they’d agreed to put that off for at least a year.
When Carin had come to Palomar, fear and hope had warred inside her. Now she knew that she had found a man who could accept her imperfections—just as she could accept his.
Footsteps sounded, and her eyes fluttered open to look up at the husband who meant so much to her. The scars on his cheek were still visible, but they only made him appear dashing in her eyes. And when they went into town to shop or get together with some of the other young families, she’d glared at any man who dared to give Gabe a sideways look.
“You’re tired,” he murmured as he turned down the oil lamp that they used in the bedroom at night and began to unbutton his shirt.
As she watched him undress, she gave him a sweet smile. “Not too tired for the best part of the day.”
“Fates, yes.” He finished taking off his clothes, then eased into bed. Folding Carin into his arms, he lowered his mouth to hers for a long drugging kiss.
She kissed him back, her hands moving over his body, giving him pleasure and receiving it from him. And as they made love, she thought—this was the way life was meant to be, and she had found that joy on an isolated Palomar homestead.
THE END
A Note to Readers
Thank you for purchasing FIRELIGHT CONFESSION, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it.
If you enjoy my books, do me a huge favor. Please go back to your favorite online bookstore, and leave an honest review. Authors live and die by their reviews. The few extra seconds it takes are really appreciated. Thank you!
If you enjoyed FIRELIGHT CONFESSION, you may also enjoy my other books
Other Books by the Author
OFF-WORLD SERIES
Book 1. Hero’s Welcome (an off-world series short story)
Book 2. Nightfall (an off-world series novella)
Book 3. Conquest (an off-world series short story)
Book 4. Assignment Danger (an off-world series novella)
Book 5. Christmas Home (an off-world series short story)
Book 6. Firelight Confession (an off-world series novella)
Off-World Collection (includes Nightfall, Hero’s Welcome, and Conquest)
Another Rebecca York series you may enjoy:
DECORAH SECURITY SERIES
Book 1. On Edge (a Decorah Security prequel novella)
Book 2. Dark Moon (a novel)
Book 3. Chained (a novella)
Book 4. Ambushed (a short story)
Book 5. Dark Powers (a novel)
Book 6. Hot and Dangerous (a short story)
Book 7. At Risk (a novel)
Book 8. Christmas Captive (a novella)
Book 9. Destination Wedding (a novella)
Book 10. Rx Missing (a novel)
Book 11. Hunting Moon (a novel)
Book 12 Terror Mansion (a novella)
Book 13. Outlaw Justice (a novella)
Book 14. Found Missing (a novel)
Book 15. Preying Game (a novel)
Book 16. Boxed In (a novel)
Book 17. Hollow Moon (a novella)
Book 18. Can She Get Home for Christmas (a novella)
Book 19. Fire on the Moon (a novella)
Decorah Security Collection (an anthology including Ambushed, Hot and Dangerous, Chained, and Dark Powers)
About the Author
A New York Times and USA Today Best-Selling Author, REBECCA YORK is a 2011 recipient of the Romance Writers of America Centennial Award. Her career has focused on romantic suspense, often with paranormal elements.
Her 16 Berkley books and novellas include her nine-book werewolf “Moon” series. KILLING MOON was a launch book for the Berkley Sensation imprint. She has written for Harlequin, Berkley, Dell, Tor, Carina Press, Silhouette, Kensington, Running Press, Tudor, Pageant Books, and Scholastic.
Her many awards include two Rita finalist books. She has two Career Achievement awards from Romantic Times: for Series Romantic Suspense and for Series Romantic Mystery. And her Peregrine Connection series won a Lifetime Achievement Award for Romantic Suspense Series.
Many of her novels have been nominated for or won RT Reviewers Choice awards. In addition, she has won a Prism Award, several New Jersey Romance Writers Golden Leaf awards and numerous other awards.
CONTACTS
Rebecca York loves to hear from readers!
Web site: http://www.rebeccayork.com
Email: [email protected]
Twitter: @rebeccayork43
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Blog: http://www.rebeccayork.blogspot.com
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Chapters One and Two of
CHRISTMAS CAPTIVE
Decorah Security Series Book #8
A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novella
Chapter One
Intent on his covert missio
n, Jordan Campbell ducked his head against the wind blowing salt spray into his face. Swiping his dark hair back from his forehead, he glanced up to the mansion perched on the cliffs above the ocean. From this vantage point it looked like a fortress, but he’d come to realize that stone walls might be no defense against the danger lurking there.
The 150-year-old house was called Campbell’s Reach, built by his great-grandfather on a stretch of Northern California coastline that had once been desolate. Now civilization was creeping toward the estate, but it would never overtake the property if he had any say in the matter.
He loved this house and the surrounding park, laid out to look like a natural part of the scenery. He and his sisters had come here in the summers when they were kids. They had inherited the estate on his father’s death. June had needed money, and he’d bought her out. A few years later, Stephanie had sold her share to him because she was too absorbed in her city life to come here often.
Until recently, he had taken his ownership for granted. Well, that and a lot more.
Now he understood that he’d been deluding himself for months. But he was going to remedy that situation today. He cut the engine speed of the powerboat and steered the small craft home, finding the calm channel that led to the sea-level landing.
At the cliff side, he pulled up at the ring anchored to the rock. On the crest of a swell, he tied up the boat, then waited for the right moment to step off onto the landing platform. It was wet and slippery, and he was careful of his footing as he made for the rough-hewn steps carved into the towering cliff face.
Knowing he was invisible from the house, he stopped at the entrance to one of the secret tunnels carved through the stone. Probably his grandfather had done some smuggling here, but Jordan was only smuggling himself back inside.
At breakfast he’d made sure everyone knew he was taking the speedboat. But they all thought he wouldn’t be back so soon.
