The Taming of Tyler Kincaid

by Sandra Marton

  “We’re just in time,” Tyler said, as he carried her across the dewy grass and onto the patio. “It’s almost sunrise.”

  “As if that means a thing to me,” Caitlin said. It was getting more and more difficult to sound angry. How could a woman sound angry, when her heart was racing with the wonder of knowing that all her dreams were coming true?

  In the distance, the first hesitant blush of the morning sun was coloring the hills.

  Tyler lowered her slowly to her feet. “I love you, Cait.” He clasped her face in his hands and looked deep into her eyes. “And I need to hear you tell me that you love me, too.”

  “You’re an impossible man, Tyler Kincaid. An absolutely impossible—”

  “It’s one of my finest qualities,” he said humbly.

  Caitlin laughed and, as she did, joyful tears rose in her eyes and glittered on her lashes.

  “Oh, Tyler,” she whispered. She lay her hands on his chest, rose on her toes and kissed his mouth. “I do love you. I adore you, and I always will.”

  His arms closed tightly around her. She was soft and warm and she smelled of flowers and sunshine, which was impossible considering that the sun was just beginning its climb into the sky, but Tyler had given up trying to understand anything beyond the fact that he loved Caitlin McCord more than any man had ever loved any woman, and that he would love her until they were both as old and crotchety as Jonas.

  The thought made him chuckle.

  “What?” Caitlin said, and leaned back in his arms.

  “I was just thinking what a long and happy future we have stretching ahead of us, McCord.”

  “There you go, Kincaid. You’re always so darned sure of yourself…” She caught her breath as he began undoing the tiny buttons down the front of her nightgown. “Whatever are you doing?”

  “I’m making love with the woman I’m going to marry.”

  Caitlin smiled. “What an excellent idea,” she whispered, and reached for his belt.

  And, as the sun painted the Texas hills with flame, Tyler and Caitlin joined together in a love they knew would last forever.

  EPILOGUE

  SLADE BARON looked into the mirror in his old bedroom, tugged at the uneven ends of his formal bow tie and sighed as it came undone.

  “It’s a female conspiracy,” he said, “that’s what it is. Why in heck do women like to see men all gussied up in these monkey suits?”

  Lara, his wife, smiled at his reflection.

  “It’s either because we know it drives you crazy or because we go weak in the knees at the sight of you looking so handsome,” she said sweetly. “Turn around, and let me fix that for you.”

  Slade did as she’d asked. “Now, sugar, you know I look handsome no matter what I’m wearin’,” he said, and grinned.

  “Maybe,” Lara said, trying her best not to smile, which wasn’t easy, considering that her husband was gathering her close in his arms. “Slade Baron, I’m never going to get that tie fixed if you do that.”

  “Do what?” Slade asked innocently, and kissed her.

  Lara sighed and lay her head against his shoulder. “I love you,” she said softly.

  “And a darned good thing you do,” Slade said gruffly. He pressed a kiss into her hair. “I just hope Tyler and Caitlin can be half as happy as we are, sugar.”

  “Only half?” Lara asked, leaning back in his arms and smiling up at him.

  “The way I figure it, nobody in the world could be this happy,” Slade said, and drew his wife toward him for another kiss.

  “Mommy? Daddy?”

  Slade and Lara turned around. Their son, just awakened from his nap, stood clutching the bars of his Portacrib. Lara gave her husband a quick kiss, then went to scoop Michael into her arms.

  “Hello, precious.” She looked at Slade and smiled. “He’s getting too big for that crib.”

  Slade held out his arms and took his son from her. “I know.” He smoothed the child’s dark curls and smiled back at his wife. “I do hate to see that crib put away, though.”

  Lara colored prettily. “Well, it won’t be put away for long,” she said, and lay a hand lightly over her flat belly.

  Slade’s gray eyes darkened. “Lara? Sugar, do you mean it?”

  “Yes,” she said softly, the love shining in her eyes. “I saw the doctor yesterday.”

  Slade’s throat constricted. He wanted to tell his wife what she meant to him, that she had changed his life forever, but he couldn’t speak. Instead he held out his arm and she went into his embrace, and he thought, as he held his son and his wife close to his heart, that he was the luckiest Baron who’d ever been born.

  * * *

  Travis came into his old bedroom quietly, shut the door and stood looking down at the big old armchair near the window. His wife, his beautiful wife, sat in it with their daughter in her arms. Alexandra had been nursing Amy. Now, the both of them had drifted off to sleep.

  Travis’s heart swelled with love. He was still trying to figure out what he’d done to deserve such happiness. All he knew for certain was that he was the luckiest Baron who’d ever been born.

  Alexandra sighed and opened her eyes. She saw Travis and her face lit with joy.

  “There you are,” she said softly. “I missed you.”

  He smiled and knelt down beside his wife and child. “I was out on the deck,” he said, and took Alex’s hand, “talkin’ with Tyler.”

  Alex grinned. “Telling him all about the horrors of married life, were you?”

  “Yeah,” Travis said, and grinned back at her, “somethin’ like that.” His grin faded. “I can’t stop thinkin’ about how he grew up. The bad times he had, because of what the old man did.”

  Alex lifted her husband’s hand to her mouth and kissed it. “It was a terrible thing, I know. Jonas, believing his first wife had taken a lover…”

  “Jonas,” Travis said tightly, “is Jonas. He’s a stubborn old coot and he’ll never change.”

  “Hush.” Alex leaned forward and kissed her husband’s mouth. “Tyler’s forgiven him, darling. You have to, too.”

  “I know. It’s just…I look at our baby and I wonder how anybody, even Jonas, could have abandoned a child.”

  “He made a terrible mistake, Travis. And he’s doing his best to make up for it.”

  “Yeah.” Travis smiled. “Anyway, Tyler and Catie found each other. That never would’ve happened, if Tyler hadn’t come searchin’ for the truth.” He leaned forward, kissed his daughter’s forehead, then kissed his wife’s mouth. “I know the two of them can never be as happy as we are, darlin’. Nobody could be. But if they’re half as much in love as you and me…”

  “Half as much will be more than most people ever know,” Alex whispered, and leaned forward again, for her husband’s kiss.

  * * *

  Gage sat on the edge of the bed in his old bedroom and watched his beautiful wife and his precious daughter gaze solemnly into the mirror.

  “You see?” Natalie said. “Jenny looks beautiful.”

  Jenny nodded and tucked her thumb into her mouth.

  “And it would be sooo nice if Jenny could keep looking beautiful until after Aunt Catie and Uncle Tyler are married.”

  Jenny nodded again.

  “You think she’s got it?” Natalie said, looking at her husband in the mirror.

  “Absolutely,” Gage said, and tried not to laugh. If there was one thing he knew about his baby, it was that she couldn’t keep clean, not even for a minute. She was the champion toddler of them all, he thought proudly, and every inch of her was a tomboy.

  “I think so, too,” Natalie said, and set her daughter gently on the floor. She looked back into the mirror. “How do I look?”

  “Gorgeous,” Gage said. He rose from the bed and went toward her. “In fact,” he whispered, and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, “maybe we ought to pass on the wedding and just stay up here and make out.”

  Natalie laughed, turned in her husband’s arms
and linked her hands behind his neck. “I’ll tell you what, Mr. Baron. You behave yourself this afternoon and I’ll ask Carmen if she’ll watch Jenny tonight.” She gave him the sort of look that turned his knees to rubber. “And then you can drive us up to Superstition Butte and we’ll, uh, we’ll look at the stars.”

  “You got a deal, babe.” Gage’s smile faded as he looked down into his wife’s face. “Ah, Nat,” he said softly, “I’m the luckiest Baron who ever lived.”

  “And I’m the luckiest woman,” Natalie said, and lifted her mouth for his kiss.

  Gage pressed his cheek to her hair. “Tyler and Caitlin really love each other.”

  “Mmm. I know. Isn’t it wonderful to see?”

  “If they can only love each other half as much as we do, babe, they’ll be happy for the rest of their lives.”

  “For the rest of their lives,” Natalie said dreamily, and then she groaned. “Oh, Jenny…”

  “What?” Gage said, and looked around.

  Their little girl had found Natalie’s lipstick. She was sitting in the middle of the carpet, happily dabbing blobs of red all over her pretty pink dress.

  Natalie and Gage looked at her, then at each other, and they laughed.

  “You’re going to be the hit of the party,” Gage said, as he scooped up his daughter. He put his other arm around his wife, and wondered, not for the first time, what he’d ever done to deserve such happiness.

  * * *

  At last, the moment had come.

  Tyler thought he’d been ready but when he heard the first triumphant chords of Mendelssohn begin, when he looked up the flower-bedecked aisle that led from the garden to the waterfall decks of the Baron mansion and saw his bride start toward him on Jonas’s arm, his heart threatened to stop beating.

  Caitlin. His Caitlin. She was so beautiful in her ivory lace gown. And that look on her face, the way her eyes were fixed only on him…

  “Just look at my Cait,” he said softly.

  His three brothers, standing alongside him, groaned softly.

  “The man’s a goner,” Gage whispered.

  “A pushover,” Travis murmured.

  “Just a fool for a purty face,” Slade added.

  All four brothers grinned at each other, and then Tyler’s grin faded and he looked at his bride and wondered what he’d ever done in his life to be so damned lucky.

  Caitlin’s sisters-in-law, who were also standing under the flowered canopy at the altar, gave a communal sigh as they watched her come slowly up the aisle.

  “Isn’t she lovely?” Natalie whispered.

  “Perfect,” Alex said.

  “Perfect,” Lara echoed, and the three women sighed again.

  The music swelled, just as Caitlin and her stepfather reached the altar. Jonas turned to Caitlin, lifted her bridal veil back from her face and cleared his throat

  “You take good care of my girl,” he said to Tyler, and stuck out his hand.

  Tyler hesitated, but only for a second. Then he took his father’s hand and shook it.

  “You know that I will.”

  “And you, missy. You take good care of this man.” Jonas cleared his throat again. “You take real good care of my son.”

  Caitlin smiled into Tyler’s eyes. “For the rest of my life.”

  “Dear friends,” the clergyman said, “we are gathered here today to join Tyler Kincaid and Caitlin McCord in marriage…”

  Jonas stepped back beside Marta, who looped her arm through his.

  “They’re such a handsome couple,” she said softly.

  Jonas nodded. “They are that.” He harrumphed. “Can’t seem to get this frog outta my throat.”

  Marta leaned her head against his shoulder and smiled. “I know.”

  “Saw old Leighton, a while ago.” Jonas chuckled. “Lady who did the flower arrangements seems to have her eye on him.”

  “And he’s eyeing her, right back.” Marta smiled again. “A good woman may be just what Leighton needs.”

  “A good woman’s what every man needs,” Jonas said, and covered his wife’s hand with his. “Marta? You think Catie likes those pearls I gave her this mornin’?”

  “She loves them. And they’re magnificent. Just right, with her gown.”

  “Yeah.” Jonas hesitated. “They belonged to Tyler’s mother. To Juanita. I loved her, you know. You don’t mind me tellin’ you that, do you? It was so long ago…”

  “No,” Marta said gently, “I don’t mind at all.”

  “If I could only go back and change things…” Jonas sighed. “I guess I never understood Juanita, or how to make her happy, but I know she’d want Catie to have those pearls.”

  “Did you tell that to Caitlin?”

  “Yeah. I did. You, uh, you think she’ll tell Tyler?”

  “I’m sure she will. And I’m sure he’ll be pleased.”

  “Yeah,” Jonas said again, his voice gruff. “The thing of it is, I ain’t always been the father I should have been, to any of my sons. But—but—” He turned to his wife, his pale eyes suspiciously bright. “It’s not too late, is it?” he whispered. “To let ’em know I’m proud of ’em? That—that I’m pleased they turned into such fine men?”

  “To tell them you love them, you mean.”

  Jonas nodded, and Marta took her husband’s hand in hers.

  “It’s never too late for love,” she said softly.

  Jonas smiled and kissed her, and then they both joined in the applause as Tyler and Caitlin shared their first kiss as husband and wife.

  * * * * *

  Now, read on for a tantalizing excerpt of Dani Collins’ next book,

  CLAIMING HIS CHRISTMAS WIFE

  After their marriage ends in heartbreak, Travis never wants to see Imogen again. But to avoid a scandal they must agree to a temporary reconciliation—leaving Travis tempted to reclaim his wife…for good!

  Read on for a glimpse of

  CLAIMING HIS CHRISTMAS WIFE

  CHAPTER ONE

  “MR. TRAVIS SANDERS?”

  “YES,” he confirmed shortly, willing the woman to hurry to the point. His PA had interrupted a high-level meeting with this “extremely important” call. “What is this about?”

  “Imogen Gantry. She’s your wife?”

  Memory washed through him in a rush of heat and hunger. He tensed against it and glanced around, lowering his voice. That broken teacup had been swept firmly under the rug four years ago.

  “We’re divorced. Are you a reporter?”

  “I’m trying to locate her next of kin. I’m at…” She mentioned the name of one of New York’s most beleaguered public hospitals.

  Whatever old anger had sent him soaring at the mention of his ex-wife exploded in a percussive flash. He was blind. Falling. Wind whistling in his ears. Air moving too fast for him to catch a gulp.

  “What happened?” he managed to grit out. He was dimly aware his eyes were closed, but she was right there in front of him, laughing. Her green eyes glimmered with mischief. Her hair was a halo of flames licking at her snowy complexion. She swerved her lashes to cut him a glance. So enchantingly beautiful. Gaze clouding with arousal. Sparking with anger. Looking so wounded and vulnerable that last time he’d seen her, his heart still dipped thinking of it.

  He’d quickly learned it was a lie, but that didn’t make any of this easier to accept.

  Gone? He couldn’t make it fit in his head. He had told her he never wanted to see her again, but discovered he had secretly believed he would.

  From far away, he heard the woman say, “She collapsed on the street. She’s feverish and unconscious. Do you know of any medication we should be aware of? She’s awaiting treatment, but—”

  “She’s not dead?”

  He heard how that sounded, as if that was the outcome he would have preferred, but leave it to Imogen to set him up to believe one thing, contort his emotions to unbearable degrees, then send him flying in another direction. That betraying, manipulative—if he could
get his hands on her, he’d kill her himself.

  “And she was taken to that hospital? Why?”

  “I believe we were closest. She doesn’t seem to have a phone and yours is the only name I’ve been able to find in her bag. We need guidance on treatment and insurance. Are you able to provide that?”

  “Contact her father.” He walked back toward the door to his office, saying to his PA behind her desk, “Look up Imogen Gantry’s father. He’s in publishing. Maybe starts with a W. William?” He hadn’t met the man, only heard her mention him once or twice. Hell, they’d only been married fifteen minutes. He knew next to nothing about her.

  “Wallace Gantry?” His PA turned her screen. “He appears to have died a few months ago.” She pointed to the obit notice that said he was predeceased by his wife and eldest daughter, survived by his youngest daughter, Imogen.

  Perfect.

  He knew better than to let himself get sucked back into her orbit, but what else could he say except, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  * * *

  Imogen remembered sitting down on the curb. It hadn’t been a nice, rain-washed boulevard of freshly mown grass beneath century-old elms with a stripe of sidewalk, then an empty canvas of manicured lawn to her mother’s rose garden, ending at the wide stairs to the double-door entrance of her childhood home.

  No, it had been a freezing, filthy inner-city curb where the piles of snow had turned to a layer of lumpy muck atop a century’s worth of chewing gum and other disgusting things. The damp chill on the air hadn’t squelched any of the terrible smells coming off the grate at her feet. She shouldn’t have touched the post she had braced herself against and she had thought a car would likely run over her legs as she sank down. At the very least, one would drown her with a tsunami of melt from the puddles.

  She hadn’t cared. The side of her head had felt like it was twice as big as the rest. Her ear, plugged and aching, had begun screaming so loud the sound had been trying to come out her mouth.

  She had tried to pretend she didn’t have an ear infection because those were for children. Her sister had got them, not her. She hadn’t gone swimming recently. She hadn’t known how it could have happened, but there she’d been like a damned toddler, nearly fainting with the agony of it, dizzy and hot and sick.