The Pregnant Colton Bride

by Marie Ferrarella

  “I found it here,” Fowler said defiantly.

  Tall and imposing, with dark brown hair and intense, cold blue eyes, Eldridge Colton’s thirty-five-year-old firstborn wasn’t accustomed to backing down. Or to explaining himself.

  Zane didn’t take kindly to being lied to. “No, you’re trying to plant it here. Why?” Then he demanded, “Why are you trying to frame me?”

  Fowler shut down right before his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Fowler knew all right, Zane thought.

  He knew he was going to make Fowler make a clean breast of it even if he had to beat it out of his stepbrother.

  “Did you kidnap him?” Zane asked angrily. “Did you kidnap Eldridge?”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Fowler shot back. “Why would I harm my own father?”

  Zane hadn’t worked that part out yet—and to be honest, he didn’t really fully believe it yet, either, but what other explanation was there for what was going on here?

  “I don’t know,” he admitted, albeit loudly. “Why would you? You’re obviously trying to throw suspicion off yourself and onto me.”

  “You’re hallucinating,” Fowler accused. “Listen, brother,” he began, using air quotation marks around the word brother. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve got a solid alibi, remember? Breakfast table, your mother,” he said mockingly, peering into Zane’s face as if looking for any signs of recognition. “Any of this ringing a bell for you yet?”

  Zane despised being talked down to. He’d spent half his childhood being talked down to by Fowler and he didn’t intend to spend his adult years that way, or spend it idly standing by while the narcissist talked down to other members of their family.

  “Watch yourself,” Zane growled the warning, pushing his stepbrother back, “or I’m going to be ringing yours—and clean your clock while I’m at it.”

  Fowler regained his footing and adjusted his tie as if trying for an air of nonchalance.

  “Careful, or I just might get it in my head to fire you.”

  That was an empty threat and they both knew it. “Your father won’t let you,” Zane countered.

  Fowler’s smile grew even icier. “Ah, but he’s not here right now, is he? Just a word to the wise,” Fowler said with an air of nonchalance.

  He walked out of the room, his warning hanging in the air.

  Zane ran his fingers over the hilt of the knife he’d picked up from the floor, trying to curb his anger.

  In all honesty, though there was no love lost between them, Zane really couldn’t picture Fowler being involved in his father’s kidnapping, much less the man’s possible demise. But his stepbrother was definitely trying to pin Eldridge’s kidnapping on him. Why? Who was he attempting to draw attention away from?

  Who was he protecting?

  Fowler was a coldhearted bastard who didn’t care about anyone—anyone except for Tiffany, Zane corrected himself.

  Tiffany Ankler was Fowler’s girlfriend and she’d been practically a fixture at the sprawling house for the past five years. It was no secret the overly endowed, statuesque blonde wanted to be upgraded to the position of fiancée. Could Fowler possibly be doing this to protect Tiffany?

  Was Tiffany behind his stepfather’s kidnapping for some reason?

  Zane shook his head. The pool of suspects seemed to be growing instead of shrinking.

  None of this made any sense, he thought, and he really needed to get back to the office. He’d already been away too long.

  Maybe he should give Mirabella the option of staying at a hotel room in town instead of the house. The idea of dinner at his mother’s house was becoming more and more of an ordeal in the making in his mind. But it was something that was going to have to be faced if Mirabella—as his wife—was going to be staying with him.

  For better or for worse, he and all the Colton siblings called the sprawling Colton Valley Ranch mansion “home.” Each of the sections they occupied were bigger in size than most people’s entire houses. Eldridge’s two older offspring, Fowler and Alanna, lived in the mansion’s left wing while his mother and missing stepfather lived in the main house in a suite on the first floor. All the rest of them, including him, had their own suites on the second floor.

  This menagerie of malcontents was what he was going to be bringing Mirabella to tonight. It occurred to him as he drove back to the office that if this hadn’t been a marriage of convenience, after meeting his dysfunctional family, Mirabella might very well be tempted to file for divorce on the spot.

  And he really wouldn’t have been able to blame her. His hyperdramatic mother and at least three of his siblings had that sort of effect on people.

  He supposed it was lucky for him that he and Mirabella, despite the undeniable chemistry that had crackled between them last night, were married only for appearances. Otherwise, if he had actual feelings for the woman, he would seriously be worried about losing her once he brought her into the house and she saw all of them in their natural habitat.

  You’ve got more important things to think about than Mirabella, he scolded himself.

  He went on thinking about her anyway.

  Chapter 18

  “We are still in Texas, aren’t we?” Mirabella quipped. “I mean, we haven’t driven into another state or anything, right?”

  They’d driven out of the city proper a while ago and had been driving for what seemed like forever. She hadn’t realized the place he called home was located this far away from where he worked.

  Rather than answer her question directly, Zane said, “Almost there,” as he turned onto what she suddenly realized was the front drive.

  The front drive appeared to be around a half mile long, if she was any judge of distance, and it led up to an ornate black iron gate. She saw Zane press something on the driver’s-side armrest. Instantly, both halves of the gate swung open.

  Just before it parted to admit them, Mirabella saw the words COLTON VALLEY RANCH written across the gates in what looked like real gold letters.

  A two-story sprawling mansion with an annex on either side loomed straight ahead. It looked like something straight out of a movie set during an era when every movie had been an epic.

  She’d heard descriptions of the Colton family mansion, but the words used hadn’t begun to do it justice. Looking at it now, it was all she could do to keep her jaw from dropping open.

  “You live here?” Mirabella asked in wonder.

  “Yup,” he answered a bit stoically before sparing her a glance. “And now you do, too. As long as you’re Mrs. Zane Colton,” he qualified.

  Pulling his vehicle over, Zane left it parked along the shoulder of the winding front drive, not too far away from the imposing double front doors. There would be someone from the household staff to take care of it soon enough.

  Getting out, he came around to her side and opened the door for Mirabella.

  For her part, Mirabella was still attempting to take it all in and absorb it. At first glance, the mansion looked to be bigger than the apartment complex she lived in.

  “Does it come with a map?” All she could think of was how easy it had to be to get lost in a mansion of this size. Taking the hand he offered, she got out of the passenger seat, then turned toward him and put her thoughts into words. “How do you keep from getting lost?” she asked innocently.

  He realized she was serious and felt his mouth curving. “You get to know your way around after a while,” he assured her.

  Mirabella did a quick calculation in her head. She was currently a little more than three months along in her pregnancy. That meant the baby was going to be born approximately in six months or less. How long after that before Zane would start divorce proceedings? The answer led her to an obvious conclusion.

  “I doubt if I’ll be around that long,” she told Zane.

  “We’ll see” was the only answer he trusted himself to give at the moment. Taking her hand, he guided her toward the front doors. “Ri
ght now, let’s just get you through dinner.”

  He made it sound like an ordeal. Mirabella read between the lines. “They’re going to hate me, aren’t they?”

  Zane paused and looked at her. “I wouldn’t exactly say ‘hate,’” he said, feeling sorry for Mirabella. She’d already been through more than her share. Having to face his mother and some of the others seemed like adding cruel and unusual punishment to an already taxing situation.

  “Let’s just say some of them might not be overly thrilled at having a new face at the family table. But then,” he qualified after more thought, “that bunch isn’t exactly capable of initially experiencing any of the kinder emotions when it comes to interacting with someone new.” He resumed walking. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Mirabella felt queasy as she hesitated before the front doors. “Is there anything I need to know?”

  “Yes,” he told her honestly. “And it could fill an entire book, but it’s too late to tell you any of that now.” He offered her an encouraging smile. “Just be yourself—and try not to notice when they’re being themselves,” he advised.

  That didn’t help. “You’re not going to leave me alone with them, are you?” she asked him suddenly, banking down a wave of panic.

  Zane found himself laughing. “Don’t worry. Even I’m not that cruel.”

  “I don’t think you’re cruel,” she responded. She wasn’t trying to flatter him—there was no point to that—but to just make him aware of how she felt about him as a person.

  If he was going to say something to point out the error in her thinking, Zane never got the opportunity. At that moment, the ten-foot front door opened and a small, kind-faced woman—the family’s housekeeper—welcomed them in.

  “Dinner’s just about on the table, Mr. Zane. You know how Miss Whitney doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” The housekeeper said his mother’s name as if she’d just bitten into a piece of very sour gum and couldn’t quite keep her reaction from her face. “And don’t worry, there’s a place set for your friend,” she assured him, her eyes momentarily shifting toward Mirabella.

  “Moira, this is Mirabella, my wife,” he said, introducing Mirabella to the housekeeper.

  Moira looked dumbstruck. Recovering, she gave Mirabella a quick, warm embrace. “Good luck to you, my dear. You’re going to need it.” She made a show of crossing her fingers for the younger woman.

  “You’re the best, Moira,” Zane told the housekeeper, planting a quick kiss on the woman’s dry cheek.

  Moira snorted. “A lot of good that does me in this house,” the housekeeper grumbled, but it was obvious Zane’s compliment had managed to hit a soft spot in the woman’s heart. She eased the door shut behind them. “Go on into the dining room. The others should be there by now. Looks like you’ve got a full house to deal with—all except for Mr. Eldridge, of course.”

  Mirabella noticed the moment the housekeeper mentioned Zane’s stepfather, Moira’s eyes were suddenly glistening with unshed tears.

  The housekeeper seemed to genuinely care about the man’s well-being, she thought.

  Mirabella leaned over and squeezed the older woman’s hand.

  “He’ll turn up,” she said with the same sort of conviction she tried to convey to Zane.

  Moira looked a bit taken aback at the kindness she heard in the newcomer’s voice. She was somewhat at a loss as to how to respond, other than to nod her head and murmur, “Of course he will,” with far less certainty than Mirabella had just exhibited.

  “We’d better get in there,” Zane advised, hurrying his new wife along.

  He didn’t want to give his mother anything more to grumble about and she really did hate to be kept waiting. The fact that she kept people waiting had no bearing on the matter.

  Last-minute concerns surfaced just before they turned the corner to walk into the dining room. Zane suddenly took her hand again, immobilizing Mirabella. Though he tried not to pay any attention to it, something oddly protective was stirring within him again.

  That, along with a measure of guilt.

  A sudden image flashed through his mind of feeding Daniel to the lions.

  His eyes looked pointedly into Mirabella’s. “Are you ready for this?”

  Was she ready? No. It felt as if her nerves were having an attack of nerves. But this was something Mirabella felt she needed to get through. This was, after all, his family and she was in the eyes of the law his wife. Meeting all of them on a personal level only seemed like the logical next step in this charade she had agreed to take part in.

  Besides, part of her really longed to belong to a family, even for a little while.

  Even this family.

  Right now she was the outsider and they would undoubtedly view her as such. She couldn’t exactly blame them because she was an outsider. But that could easily change.

  And the nice thing was, she thought, at least for the time being, Zane seemed to be on her side, and charade or no charade, he meant a great deal to her.

  “Let’s do this,” she said, much the way a ship’s captain might have ordered. “Full speed ahead.”

  Hands still joined, they walked into the dining room together.

  Ten sets of eyes turned their way.

  Mirabella’s stomach tightened.

  Curiosity could be found in five of those sets. Outright hostility, in varying degrees, could be seen in the rest.

  Only the eyes belonging to the housekeeper’s husband, Aaron, were entirely unreadable.

  “You’re late,” Whitney declared, breaking the silence. She turned up a foundation-slathered cheek for Zane to kiss.

  This was new, he thought, lightly brushing his lips along her cheek. His mother didn’t usually wait for him to kiss her cheek before proceeding. He wondered if having Mirabella with him had anything to do with this change of behavior.

  Now wasn’t the time for petty bickering or confrontations.

  Still, he felt bound, for Mirabella’s sake, to correct his mother’s admonishment because, from where he stood, he knew it was covertly aimed at the young woman beside him.

  “I’m on time, Mother,” Zane corrected. “You’re uncustomarily early.”

  When his mother’s sigh dismissed the challenge, he knew he was right.

  Whitney was still scrutinizing Zane’s companion. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your little friend, Zane?”

  She was making him jump through hoops, Zane thought. His mother could have just as easily alerted the others to Mirabella’s new identity.

  For the sake of peace—and Mirabella—he played along. “Everyone,” he said, raising his voice slightly, “this is Mirabella. My wife,” he added after a short pause.

  “Your what?” Marceline cried, stunned.

  Her voice had risen several octaves and she looked at Zane as if she’d been betrayed. She and Zane had always been a unit within this family, they had been since the first day their mother had married Eldridge, a man Marceline still detested for her own reasons.

  Alanna, Eldridge’s first daughter appeared to be just as shocked. “You’re kidding,” she retorted.

  “He got married?” Tiffany snapped, glaring accusingly at Fowler. She’d been doing everything possible to get Fowler to propose to her for the last five years and it was obvious she resented having another woman being the new bride at the table.

  Fowler deliberately ignored her.

  “Good for you,” Piper declared, sounding genuinely happy for Zane.

  Her congratulations were echoed by Thomas and Reid, both of whom left their chairs to shake Mirabella’s hand and slap Zane on the back, offering their hearty good wishes.

  Fowler grew only more sullen. “It’s just an elopement, no big deal,” he interjected almost defensively. His words were aimed at the woman whose eyes he was avoiding.

  Whitney frowned at the duo still standing. “Sit before everything gets cold,” she ordered.

  She waited until both Zane and the interloper, which was th
e way she had labeled the woman Zane had brought to her table, were seated before speaking again.

  Zane noticed his seat was arranged differently this time. His chair was on one side of his mother and Mirabella’s was placed on the other. Although they were facing one another, the separation had been deliberate. His mother’s unspoken message was very clear: divide and conquer.

  Think again, Mother.

  Once they were seated, Whitney turned to her new daughter-in-law. The smile she offered appeared forced. “Welcome to the family, dear. You’re not exactly what I would have had in mind for Zane—” she began, only to have Zane cut in.

  “Your best best behavior, remember, Mother?” Zane tersely reminded the woman who had claimed to give birth to him. He wasn’t about to sit silently by and watch her reduce Mirabella to tears.

  Whitney turned a deaf ear to his warning. “But as long as my son loves you, I suppose you’ll do,” she concluded with a smile that might have been better suited to a mother python.

  “Don’t you work for Zane?” Alanna asked as if she was trying to place where she had seen her stepbrother’s new wife before. Her tone of voice was clearly intended to be belittling.

  Mirabella raised her chin. “Yes, I do,” she replied proudly, almost daring the other woman to say something else.

  Alanna turned her bright green eyes toward Zane. “I guess this puts a new meaning to bringing your work home with you.”

  Fowler snickered at his sister’s attempt at a witticism.

  Zane found himself growing angry. It occurred to him the sheriff viewed all the people at the table as suspects in his stepfather’s kidnapping and possible murder—and maybe the sheriff was on to something, after all. He bore no ill will toward Reid, Thomas, Piper or Marceline, but as for the others...

  “I told Belle that you’d all behave yourselves, but I guess your manners aren’t up to hers,” he informed the people at the table.

  “Zane doesn’t mean all of us,” Piper said to Mirabella. “Speaking from experience, after a while, you won’t even notice or pay any attention to their feeble barbs and attempts to bring you down.” She looked directly at Alanna as she said, “They’re threatened by anyone they see as being even remotely normal.”