by Leanne Banks
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EXPECTING HIS CHILD
Leanne Banks
~ Silhouette Desire #1293 ~
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Contents:
Prologue
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
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Prologue
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He thundered across the dusty Texas soil on the back of a black stallion like an avenging angel. Panic flooded her bloodstream. Martina Logan quickly backed away from the crowd of wedding guests and hid behind a tree. The guests at her brother's outdoor wedding gasped and murmured. Not many would be able to identify him from this distance, but Martina could. Her eyes didn't need to tell her; her heart did the trick, pounding erratically against her rib cage.
Noah Coltrane.
Noah slowed the stallion and guided the impressive animal to the vacated dance area. He scanned the crowd and Martina tried to make herself shrink.
Her brother Tyler spoke up. "What do you want, Noah?"
"I'm here to see Martina."
Her stomach dipped to her knees and she prayed he wouldn't see her. She wasn't ready to face him. Not yet.
"She doesn't want to see you," Tyler said. "Get off the property. Can't you see we're having a wedding?"
"That means she's here," Noah said, surveying the crowd once again.
"Buy a vowel," Tyler said. "She doesn't want to see you."
Martina closed her eyes during the long pause that followed.
"I will see her," Noah finally said, the hard resolve in his voice giving her a chill. "Give her that message."
Trembling, Martina stole a private moment and covered her face with her hands. A dozen images raced through her mind. Months ago, hearing Noah's Texas drawl on the stalled El in Chicago had reminded her how far from home she was. Hearing his voice had rubbed at an empty spot, and she had turned around to see the most fascinating man she'd ever met.
Noah was not the usual cowboy. Not only did he rope and ride, he also fenced and traded cattle options on the Chicago exchange. When they'd met, Martina had been temporarily assigned to a computer company in the Windy City while Noah was taking a course in commodities. He'd charmed her and made her feel comfortable before revealing his name.
Martina still remembered the regret she'd felt and seen echoed on his face when they'd realized their families hated each other. There was enough bad blood between the two ranching families to fill the Red Sea. It was bad enough that his family and hers had quarreled for generations over the stream their ranches shared. What sealed the grudge was the fact that Noah's great-grandfather had tried to steal the wife of Martina's great-grandfather, and during the course of it all, the Logan bride had died.
Still, Noah had suggested with a wry chuckle that since they weren't in Texas, they could pretend their last names were different.
He was the biggest no-no she'd ever said yes to. It had been all too easy to fall for him, and the memory of the passion and laughter they'd shared still made her weak. But reality and family loyalty had eventually crept in. Their affair had ended as quickly as it began. Martina, however, had been left with the consequences of her temporary insanity called Noah Coltrane.
Martina bit her lip and opened her eyes. She touched her abdomen swollen with Noah's child. She dreaded the day she would have to face him. She knew it was coming. Noah Coltrane would always be her biggest no-no. Her favorite mistake.
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Chapter 1
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He'd finally found her. Six weeks after he'd crashed her brother's wedding, Noah eyed Martina Logan's condo with a feeling of satisfaction and cynicism. The woman had made love to him like a firestorm for three of the most insane, yet oddly fulfilling weeks of his life, then abruptly disappeared.
Her leaving had stung his ego and he hadn't gone after her. He would forget her, he'd told himself. After all, with so much bad blood between their families, they'd both known the relationship was doomed from the start. But he'd seen a fire of independence in Martina's eyes that echoed in his gut, and he hadn't wanted to resist.
As the days passed after she'd left, Noah was haunted by her memory. Thoughts of her interrupted his sleep. It stuck in his craw when he made a few small attempts to locate her and couldn't.
Then it became his mission to find her and to exorcise her from his mind. His peace would come from looking into her eyes and letting her see that she couldn't hide from him. His relief would come from seeing that she wasn't nearly the woman he'd thought her to be. Then he would be on his way.
Walking toward her front door, he idly noticed the scrape of his boots against the hot pavement and the deceptively peaceful sound of birds chirping in the late-spring morning. He paused on her doorstep and, pushing aside the feeling that all hell was about to break loose, he pressed the doorbell twice.
"Just a minute," her voice called, and his gut twisted at the sound. He heard her footsteps and voice grow louder as she came closer.
"Yes, I'm keeping my appointments. I'm fine," she said, opening the door. "I'm—" Her eyes met Noah's and her mouth formed an O of surprise. Her jaw worked, but no sound came out. He watched her swallow. "I … I … I've got to go," she said, and pushed a button to disconnect.
Noah drank in the sight of her – her dark, tousled hair, shocked blue eyes, worried mouth, long throat, full breasts and fuller tummy.
Much fuller tummy.
The implication of her change in size triggered a dozen questions inside him. Martina was pregnant.
Whose baby?
Could it be his?
How far along was she?
His mind asked the questions, but his gut knew the important answer.
"I've gained weight," she said, smiling brightly enough to almost blind him. Almost, but Noah noticed the protective way she covered her abdomen with her hand. "You know how that goes. Some people just seem to gain it all in one place." She pushed her other hand through her hair and blinked innocently. "I can't imagine what would bring you here."
Noah struggled with the images that raced through his mind. Images where she had been laid bare beneath him, crying out his name. Images where she had looked into his eyes and he had gotten lost in the depths of her. At the time, he could have sworn she'd been equally lost in him.
"When did you start gaining the weight, Martina?" he asked. "About eight to twelve weeks after the last time you were with me? You must be over six months pregnant."
Her smile slipped slightly. "I don't remember when I started gaining weight," she said.
Another way of pleading the Fifth, Noah thought cynically. "And I'll bet you'll lose a lot of this weight suddenly," he said, his emotions roiling like the Galveston beach before a storm.
"The baby's mine, isn't it," he said, cutting through her ridiculous story. He decided this situation was going to require the best combination of his instincts and brain.
She dropped her hand from her hair and clasped both of her palms in front of her abdomen. Her gaze narrowed and her eyes glinted with a mixture of fear and fight. "My baby," she corrected. "Who told you?"
"No one. I looked at you and knew," he said, his entire body clenching with the knowledge that Martina was carrying his baby. "You need to let me in," he said, surprised at the calm tone of his voice. He felt as if she had set off a bomb inside him.
Martina bristled. "This isn't a good time. I'm busy working right now. My company is allowing me to design web pages from home, but I do have deadlines."
"When is a good time?" Noah asked, baiting her. "Next year?"
Martina's smile vanished and she set her chin. "Next year is too soon."
It occurred to Noah that this woman could have easily inspired the say
ing Don't mess with Texas. She tried to close the screen door in his face, but he caught it with his boot. "I'm not going away."
Her eyes flashed. "I'm over my quota of pushy, overbearing men in my life. I don't respond well to force."
He nodded. "Good," he said. "I only use force as a last resort when I'm dealing with someone who is being unreasonable."
She looked at him with skepticism, but stepped away from the door.
Martina had dreaded this day. She'd known she would have to tell Noah about the baby someday. She'd decided an e-mail, fax or message sent by carrier pigeon would be much preferable to a face-to-face confrontation. The time had never seemed right. As a rule she didn't procrastinate, but she'd broken several rules by getting involved with Noah in the first place.
As he walked past her, she remembered some of the silly reasons she'd allowed herself to get involved with him. His height. She'd always been tall, and it had felt good to be held by a man several inches taller. She'd liked the way he smelled – of leather and spicy musk. She'd liked the sound of his voice and the way his mind worked.
After living with a father and two brothers determined to protect, defend and dominate her, being with a reasonable man who treated her as an equal had gone to her head like too much tequila.
Martina had the unnerving intuition that she might not be able to count on Noah to be reasonable right now.
He glanced around her den, then walked toward her. Her heart squeezed in her chest at the formidable expression on his face.
"When were you going to tell me?" he asked in a calm voice at odds with the turbulence in his eyes.
Her stomach fluttered with nerves. "I was going to tell you. I just hadn't figured out how."
"When? After the baby was born? After our child took first steps or went to school? Or reached legal age?"
The sense of betrayal in his voice scraped at her. She struggled with shame and frustration. "I should have told you. It would have been the right thing to do, but it was wrong to get involved with you in the first place. When I found out I was pregnant, I couldn't believe it was true. I had to come to terms with it on my own."
"If you'd told me, you wouldn't have had to do anything alone," he told her.
Martina's heart hurt as a dozen memories slammed through her. "We knew when we got involved that it couldn't last. You said we could pretend while we were in Chicago. You never talked about a future with me because you knew there wouldn't be one."
He rested his hands on his hips. "The baby changes things."
Her stomach sank at the determination in his voice. "For me and maybe for you, but not for us."
"You should have told me."
"Yes, well, I had to get used to the idea first. And having my brothers find out a Coltrane was the father…" She broke off and grimaced at the memory of that confrontation.
"What'd they do?" Noah asked. "Look at you like you were giving birth to the anti-Christ?"
"At first," she said. "But I set them straight."
"Who did you tell them was the father?"
"I told them the stork did it," she said, but the flip remark didn't work its charm. "When you showed up at my brother's wedding like the Lone Ranger, it became difficult to deny paternity." She took a careful breath. "I have handled this on my own. I got through the shock and morning sickness and everything else on my own. I'm strong. I can handle the rest alone, too."
He gave a wry half smile that somehow looked dangerous. "We never got around to discussing children, but I have some definite opinions on the subject. The first is that the parents should be married. You and I should marry as soon as possible."
Martina gaped at him. If he hadn't been dead serious, she would have laughed. "You must not have heard me. I have put up with three domineering men in my life – my father and brothers – and I am not interested in tying myself till death do us part to another."
"This baby deserves two parents. Both of us will want to be involved in raising the child. I don't walk away from my responsibilities."
There wasn't an ounce of give in his voice, but he struck on one issue she'd been unable to resolve in her heart and mind. Martina wanted the best for her child, but she couldn't marry Noah. "We can work out visitation," she began, trying to pump conviction into her tone.
"That's another thing that's stupid. It's crazy for you to live alone here in Dallas when you can live at my family ranch."
Everything inside her balked. "Now I know you're insane. Have you forgotten that my family home borders your property? Do you think my brothers and your brothers are going to have a party over this? I don't think so. Plus, there is the Logan curse. Women bearing the Logan name have shown an annoying tendency to kick the bucket when they fall in love and get married. I'll admit I never thought the curse applied to me, but on the off chance that it does, I have a pretty powerful reason to stay alive and healthy. My baby."
Noah stood there silently. He looked as if he was reining himself in, processing every word she'd said. Planning.
Martina felt a sinking sensation, but kept her back ramrod straight. She was no sissy, she told herself. She could handle Noah Coltrane.
"We'll talk again," he said, pulling out a pen and business card and scratching some numbers on the back of it. "If you need anything, anything at all, call me. Cell number's on the back." He met her gaze again. "You said your family curse means a Logan woman will die when she marries. You forget. When you marry me, you won't be a Logan woman. You'll be a Coltrane."
"When cows do algebra," she fumed as she watched Noah walk out her door. "I'll be a Coltrane when Texans stop arguing over water rights, when your brothers and my brothers give each other big hugs, which will be never," she continued, even though she was only talking to the air that Noah had breathed and the space he had invaded. His presence was still disturbing even though he was gone. "I'll be a Coltrane when the stars fall over West Texas."
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Noah had so much adrenaline pumping through his veins that he could easily have snapped the steering wheel of his Tahoe in half. He had impregnated the most unreasonable, stubborn woman in Texas, and he had a feeling it was going to take everything he had to corral her and bring her and the baby to the Coltrane ranch where they belonged.
A part of him wondered if the Indian mystic in him had sensed something important had happened to Martina. He wondered if that was what had kept him awake nights. Although Noah knew he was the most modern of the Coltranes, he also suspected the trace of Indian blood in his veins gave him instincts not so easily explained.
He sighed in disgust. It would be nice if those Indian instincts could provide something more useful than a sleepless night, something like an easy way to win Martina over.
To persuade her, he was going to have to see this from her point of view. Noah knew he was more open-minded than his brothers, but he wasn't sure he could think like a woman, God help him. Especially when every drop of primitive protectiveness and possessiveness raged to the surface when he remembered that Martina was carrying his child.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled into the dusty drive to the main ranch house. On a normal day, he felt a sense of well-being every time he came home. Zachary Tremont, former ranch foreman, had always told Noah that if he grew still and quiet, he would hear the voice of welcome when he was in the right place. Zachary was probably the reason none of the Coltrane boys had ended up in prison. Their father, Joe, had been a drunk, a mean one at that, and their mother, a strict churchgoer, had died of cancer. The union hadn't exactly produced a pleasant home environment.
One good thing Joe had done just before he passed away, though, was to hire Zachary. During his time at the Coltrane ranch, Zachary had taught Noah and his brothers the discipline of fencing. More importantly, he had taught each of the boys about honor and the importance of finding and honoring his individual purpose.
Noah missed Zachary and would have traded his most valuable antique sword for a chance to talk to the man now.
But Zachary had left when Noah's brother Adam grew old enough to manage the ranch, insisting it was time for him to move on.
Noah glanced at the recently remodeled and expanded ranch house and waited for the feeling of welcome. On a normal day, he felt the warmth of it curl in his stomach and flow through his blood.
This, however, was not a normal day. His brothers were not going to have a party over his news. A riot was more likely.
He waited until everyone had eaten dinner. Adam was downing a third beer, Jonathan was leaning back with his eyes closed, and Gideon was lighting a cigar.
"We need to make plans for an addition," Noah said.
Adam glanced at him quizzically. "Another one? We've already built bunkhouses for the fencing camps and roundup weekends you want to run."
"We can wait. I don't want anyone touching the house," Gideon said. "I'm sick of falling over contractors. I want to smoke cigars in peace."
"Then take them outside," Jonathan muttered, his eyes still closed. He wasn't fond of Gideon's trendy habit.
"It's not a building," Noah said. "It's a baby." Complete silence reigned. Jonathan's eyes popped open. Adam and Gideon stared at Noah.
"Whose, baby?" Adam asked in a low voice.
"Mine," Noah said, and called to the cook. "Patch, you mind bringing in that good bottle of whiskey and three shot glasses?"
Jonathan, the brother to whom Noah felt closest, had the most even temperament and was by far the most intuitive. "You're not drinking?"
"Not yet," Noah said, and poured the whiskey.
"Congratulations," Gideon said with a sly grin and swallowed his shot. "Does this baby come with a woman?"
"Yeah," Noah said. "Martina Logan."
Jonathan dropped his shot glass. Adam and Gideon stared at Noah in disbelief.
"You better be joking," Adam said.
"I'm not. She's carrying my baby. We met in Chicago. She's not like her brothers," Noah said, then remembered her scorching refusal to his proposal this morning. "In some ways, she's worse," he said with a wry laugh. "But I'm going to marry her, bring her here to live, and we're going to raise the baby here."
