The Billionaire's Colton Threat

by Geri Krotow

  “Bluewood is now part of the Buchanan legacy, Halle. And I treat every business as an equal, no matter its cash flow.”

  She snorted. “Right. You’re telling me Bluewood is in the same class as Clyde Whiskey?”

  “Absolutely.” He leaned forward. “It’s the only way to know I’ve given each investment vehicle its due share. Trust me, Halle. I’ve made a fortune this way.” And was most probably in threat of losing it, to some unknown stock buyer named SullaXS, but he wasn’t going to ever tell her about it. He’d get to the source and stop the cash bleed before it got too bad. He had to. He’d checked his messages before his shower and there weren’t any new leads or developments. He didn’t expect the respite to last.

  Her eyes were sparking with hope as much as she narrowed them in defense. “Bluewood isn’t a product like booze, Alastair. Texas isn’t Scotland. I know this as much as you, more so. I’ve spent more time in Scotland than your one stint in the States, I’ll bet.”

  “True. Although you’re overlooking a key aspect. Bluewood offers a product that can’t be bottled and sent overseas, or put in a distribution network. It offers an experience that changes lives.” He didn’t have to point out how his time on the range had changed both of their lives, did he?

  “Riiight. Your point?”

  “My point is that once the word gets out, once you utilize social media, or what have you, to have your clients share their experiences, you’ll be booked years out.” Instead of eking out a minimal existence as he suspected she’d been for the better part of a year since her father had passed away.

  She didn’t reply and the lines around her mouth deepened. Only now did he notice the shadows under her eyes. He stood up and reached out his hand.

  “Time for bed, Halle. It’s been a long day.”

  She allowed him to tug her up, and didn’t fight moving into his embrace. He held her gently, knowing that as much as he wanted her he was actually going to be the man of the house tonight and do the gentlemanly thing.

  “Alastair, thank you for being so understanding. And about what happened in the truck, after our wedding...”

  “Shh.” He placed a finger on her lips, her soft, warm, most lovely lips, and kissed her forehead. “We have to learn to be friends first. I’ll see you in the morning.” He let go and picked up their empty glass and mug.

  “Good night, Alastair.” Halle didn’t turn back as she headed for her room, and Alastair didn’t allow himself to think more than was required to rinse out the dishes and put them in the dishwasher.

  It was going to be tough to sleep tonight.

  Chapter 12

  Halle woke before the sun, which wasn’t difficult since the autumn days didn’t brighten until after 7:00 a.m. After she made a pot of decaf tea for herself, a pot of coffee for Alastair and some steel cut oatmeal for both of them, she waited. For her husband.

  “Good morning.” Alastair stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking yummy in a fleece pullover and the jeans he’d worn last night.

  “Morning. Help yourself to oatmeal and coffee. There’s tea, if you’d prefer.”

  “No, I’m definitely a coffee man when I wake up.”

  She’d bet her life savings he was a “man” any time of day. It’s just the novelty of having a sexy man in your house, your kitchen.

  Nothing to do with the fact that she’d had the best sex of her life with this man that had resulted in the growing baby in her womb. Not at all.

  He slid into the chair opposite her at the table and looked out the window at the corral and pasture beyond. “Lovely view.”

  Halle followed his gaze. The sun was rising above the rolling hills, shattering the curtain of darkness she’d woken up to and casting the sky with a peach glow that was uniquely South Central Texas. She returned her gaze to Alastair in hopes of soaking in his profile, only to find his eyes on her. Soaking her up, as if she were as beautiful as the sunrise.

  Silly thought. “I hoped we could go for a ride today.”

  “Excellent.” He dug into the oatmeal like a starving man. “I’ll drive. Where do you want to go?”

  “No, not in the truck. A horse ride. Maybe out to the first lookout point and back. Nice and easy, on the trail we did together.” She’d taken him there on the first day of their fateful camping trip. “You remember the spot, I’m sure.”

  “Yes. Rattlesnake Gulch, did you call it?”

  “It’s not a gulch, it’s a cliff. And you can run into a rattlesnake anywhere around here.”

  “Thanks for the reassurance. You’re really enticing me to go back out on the trail.” He sounded relaxed, reflecting the same humor she felt about the situation. “As much as that sounds inviting, once again, should you be riding while you’re pregnant?”

  “It’s fine since it’s something I’m used to. I’m not going to start a new sport like downhill skiing or gymnastics. My doctor told me I can keep up my normal activity level, morning sickness allowing. I’m sure it won’t be so comfortable once the baby gets bigger, but right now I haven’t felt the baby move, he or she is still too small. My belly feels like I’m bloated from eating too many doughnuts, nothing more.”

  “I’ll bet you’ve lost weight, with the nausea.”

  “Again, I am so sorry about yesterday’s events.”

  “It’s not yours to apologize for. Think it as our first married problem. I’d say we handled it well.”

  And like the married couple they weren’t, she and Alastair enjoyed a leisurely breakfast together. As if it were something they’d done a thousand times before, with a lifetime more in front of them.

  Not the reality of only having a year to establish the legacy they both wanted for their child. Halle’s stomach soured at the thought of never being associated with Alastair again, except as the mother of his child. Maybe her Scotsman was becoming more important in her life than she was willing to accept. Because it meant she was in a place of risking it all.

  * * *

  She led them out a different way than before, so that Alastair could see another trail.

  “I can tell Buster missed you. He’s not pranced like that since you rode him last.” She kept Elvis even with Buster so that conversing was easy.

  “He just knows that I won’t take any funny business from him, is all.” He flicked a quick look at Elvis. “What happened to Buttercup?”

  “She’s a reliable gal for long trail rides. But for a quick day jaunt, Elvis is my man, aren’t you, sweetheart?” She patted the gelding’s neck.

  “He elicits more warmth from you than your groom.”

  “Hardly. You’re too quick to put yourself down, you know. There’s a nice, sensitive man under the corporate-shark skin, isn’t there?”

  “I never thought so but I have to admit—” he maneuvered Buster around an outcropping of sharp stones “—you seem to bring out a side of myself I’m not as familiar with.”

  Halle let that sit.

  “It’s new territory for both of us, I think. Unless you have other children you haven’t mentioned?”

  “Absolutely not. I’ve never been engaged before, either.”

  “I should have asked before I committed to a year of marriage. You must think I’m the most naive business person ever.”

  “I think you’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met. When you meet my mother and grandmother, you’ll realize what a compliment that is.”

  They were coming to the copse of trees he remembered. “We’re near the lookout, aren’t we?”

  “In about a half mile, yes. We’ll stop there and take our time with lunch. I’ll lead, as the path is going to narrow to allow only one of us at a time.”

  “After you, Mrs. Buchanan.”

  She met his gaze and felt the instant bolt of attraction, the following rush o
f warmth in her most sensitive parts, and the sense of rightness in her heart that had nothing to do with her physical attraction to Alastair. And everything to do with the possessive way he said “Mrs. Buchanan.”

  Before she could say something stupid or fall off of Elvis because of her wandering hormones, she clicked her tongue and tugged the reins to the left. Elvis knew the route as well as Halle and carried them effortlessly over the mud-packed trail. They trotted under low-lying branches, down and up several ditches. The pace was good enough to be invigorating but steady enough to pose no risk to Halle or the baby.

  “Hang on—we’re almost there!” she shouted over her shoulder, giving Alastair a heads-up about the last turn that dipped low and then rose steeply to where the ground plateaued into the lookout spot.

  Elvis’s squeal warned her a split second before her mount reared. He wasn’t on his hind legs to help them climb up the steep slope in front of them, but to turn and bolt. Halle saw the flash of a snake, the length of trip wire, a lethal flash of pink. She fought to stay mounted, to bring Elvis to heed. She’d been riding since she was a tot and had been thrown, tossed and tumbled from a horse before. She also knew how to hang on short of her mount rolling.

  But this time it wasn’t about her—it was about keeping her baby safe. A semi controlled fall to ground four or five feet below her was preferable to being crushed by Elvis or worse, thrown. She forced her body to relax as she prepared for her inevitable landing on the hard ground. Then she let go of the reins.

  “Halle!”

  Alastair’s shout reached her as she fell through the several feet to the ground, the horror of how much worse the moment could have been caught in a sadistic slow-motion defense mechanism in her primal brain. Her feet hit dirt first and she rolled to her rump, the contact jarring through her entire skeleton before she bounced up and landed again, this time on her left shoulder. She lay on her side in a fetal position, struggling to catch her breath. The mud was cold under her fingers, the scent of pine needles sharp and reassuring. Halle could smell and feel and didn’t think she’d been badly injured. Her shoulder might complain for a while. The baby was safe, which was all that mattered. She was certain she’d not done her midsection any harm, and the fall hadn’t been that rough.

  A warm hand on her shoulder. “Halle.”

  “I’m good.” She lay still, wiggled her toes and fingers, then her legs and arms, before she sat up. “I’ve had worse.”

  “What happened?”

  She motioned toward the trail, five feet away. “I saw a rattler, and I think there’s a trip wire down there. I saw a length of cable wire right across the main trail, about twelve inches above the ground. There was a pink handkerchief on one end of it. It had to have been put there on purpose.”

  Alastair let loose a short but incredibly powerful epithet that she’d never heard before. “Where does it hurt?”

  “My pride, mostly. It was a calculated risk.” God, if she’d landed differently...even this shake-up could have hurt the baby. “I allowed myself to slide off on purpose, in case Elvis bolted. The jostling of a hard throw or worse, if he’d fallen on me, would have been too much for the baby. Trust me, I’m okay. But I think I’d better have my doctor check me over. Just to make sure.”

  The furrows on Alastair’s brow were deep, his mouth pressed in a harsh line. His expression contradicted the warmth that radiated from the depths of his eyes. “I’m calling in a helicopter.”

  “Oh no, that’s absolutely not necessary. Honestly, Alastair, if I start cramping or bleeding, I’ll tell you. But it was just a tough tumble. The baby’s still small enough that I’m sure he or she is well protected.” She meant it, too. She didn’t feel there’d be more than surface bruises, maybe a sore butt as her bottom had taken the brunt of the fall. “Let’s take a slow ride back, then I promise I’ll go to the doctor’s.”

  “We’ll have medical personnel waiting at the house for you. I insist.” He’d already pulled out his phone and was talking to someone. It took her a moment to realize it was Jimbo.

  “Alastair, please.” She placed her hand on his forearm.

  He held up his hand in the international signal for “stop” and kept talking to Jimbo, relaying where they were. “You can ping my phone’s location, can’t you? If we’re not back within the hour, or if we need an air ambulance, I don’t want to have to waste time.”

  Jimbo must have calmed Alastair because he hung up in short order and looked at her with the same grim expression but a shadow of relief fell over his eyes, too. “We can ride back. If you have any hint of feeling unwell, you won’t hesitate to tell me, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Jimbo’s getting a team of folks together to meet us at the ranch house. And he’s coming out with a deputy to collect evidence here.”

  “That’s so not necessary, Alastair—having the folks at the house. But if it makes you feel better, so be it.”

  “It does.” He helped her onto Elvis, although she could have done it herself, and mounted behind her. He led Buster with his reins. They started toward home and she leaned into him, needing his solid warmth.

  * * *

  Alastair fought with his emotions over whether to force Halle to wait for an air ambulance or take her back the short distance to the ranch himself. He believed her when she said she felt fine, just bruised. But the fear that reared as deftly as Elvis had at the trip wire was gripping him by his balls.

  He could have lost Halle, the baby.

  “Stop, Alastair. I’m right here. The baby’s here.” She took his left hand off her upper waist and put it on her lower abdomen, where their child grew. “We’ll all be okay.”

  “Thank God.”

  Because they were walking the mounts so slowly, conversation was easy, and he heard her even though she faced to her front. “It’s not two coincidences, Alastair.”

  “No, I’m afraid it probably isn’t.”

  “There’s something you’re holding back. What is it? Have you seen something odd that you haven’t mentioned?”

  Damn it, she’d noticed his distraction and he hated to lie to her. But he wasn’t worrying her, not until he was conclusively certain someone was trying to wipe Clyde Whiskey out.

  “Nothing that I can be sure of, Halle. Right now I’d say both our emotions are all over the place. And to be brutally honest, I’m freaking out a little bit over all of this. If anything happened to you or the baby, I’d never forgive myself.” He shook his head. “Damn it, I was right there next to you and I couldn’t do a dang thing to save you.”

  “You didn’t have to. There was nothing to save, Alastair—I had it. Elvis knew exactly how to land so that I’d be safe. I train my horses to be able to survive just about any situation imaginable. To Elvis, this was another practiced rattlesnake exercise.”

  “Don’t lie, Halle, just to make me feel better. Elvis knows it was real, just as Buster does. They don’t miss one iota of our emotions. And I know you of all people know that.”

  He felt her sigh, how she leaned into him, her back curved in a soft C as he sat straight and led them all back to the house. To home.

  Because wherever they were together, it was home to him.

  “This is reminding you of that awful woman again, and your father’s accident, isn’t it?” He had to ask her.

  “Yes, yes, it is. Except I have you to lean on now.”

  Her sentiment was a balm to his battered heart, and reminded him of why it’d been so scary to see her fall off the horse. And allowed him enough space from his fear to wonder if SullaXS was the third instance of trouble brewing against them. He’d find out as soon as he heard from his staff, or better, returned to Glasgow. No person or thing would dare harm Halle or the baby. Not while he was her husband.

  Halle was becoming more precious to him than anything el
se in his life.

  * * *

  The reminder of Livia Colton brought back chilling memories that even the woman’s death couldn’t erase and Halle settled against Alastair’s body again as they rode home.

  Unable to change her new husband’s mind about the need for emergency medical care, Halle decided to focus on determining the extent of her injuries as they rode. Unbeknownst to her at the time she’d skinned her knee and the blood was seeping through her torn jeans. At least Alastair hadn’t noticed it yet. She’d tell the paramedics that met them at the house and let them decide if she needed stitches. There was no sense in upsetting Alastair more than he was already.

  Rattled didn’t come close to describing Alastair’s demeanor. Halle found that while she enjoyed his complete attention when he’d made love to her she didn’t enjoy it as much when he was acting as if she were mortally wounded.

  “We are getting out of this godforsaken place.” He maneuvered Elvis around some tricky rock outcroppings, in between hedges of sagebrush. Halle waited until they cleared it to speak.

  “You don’t just mean this trail, or Bluewood, do you?” She waved her hand around as they slowly rode back to the ranch. Even she had to admit that two malicious acts this close together stood a good chance of being related. First Ernie and now Elvis and almost her—and the baby.

  He nuzzled the top of her head and his hands on the reins in front of her were strong. “No. We need to get away for a bit, and you need to see where I live. Where our child will spend a good portion of his or her time.”

  Halle wanted to blame the bile that rose in her throat on her morning sickness or on the nefarious setup that had spooked Elvis, but the tumult in her stomach was from neither. “What do you mean by ‘a good portion’?”

  She sensed his sea-blue eyes checking every inch that was visible to him, as if she’d disappear at any moment. When his arm tightened around her waist, she looked up sideways at him. Raw vulnerability and fear were reflected in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Halle, I don’t mean to imply I’d ever decide on my own where the baby will spend their time. That’s a decision we’ll make jointly.”