Claire forced herself to meet Rafael’s eyes and gave voice to the thought she had denied up to now. “I’m afraid…afraid of when the baby will be born… afraid to know…”
Still holding her chin, Rafael brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Whichever way it turns out, it will be the child’s destiny, and we’ll have to allow it to unfold for him.”
Claire listened to his calm voice, and felt Rafael’s strength surround her, just as it had surrounded her during those dreamy days at the barn. Her mouth quivered as she sought for the right words to explain her reticence. Before she could marshal her thoughts, Rafael had reached for the reins and snapped the horse to a walk.
“Let’s go,” he said. “Find out if my mother is still at the barn making plans. I want her to get used to seeing you with me.”
****
Wisps of haze hung over the withered gardens of the old homestead as puddles on the ground evaporated in the late morning heat. Claire looked around. Dead plants stood in ragged heaps, ready for burning.
“Your mother has done all this on her own?” she asked in awe. Her heart beat a little unsteadily as she considered what a formidable adversary such a determined woman might be, should she decide that her son had been tricked into an unsuitable marriage.
Rafael brought the buggy to a stop and gave her a sidelong glance. “Not on her own. My father helped, and he bribed the Vega brothers to operate the pump every morning and evening and cart over barrelfuls of water.”
“What did he offer them?”
“An extra day off every week, as long as they keep watering the gardens.” Rafael climbed down from the buggy and circled around to Claire’s side. She watched him and doubted anyone would notice how he favored his good leg.
When lifted her down, Claire propped her hands over his shoulders and kept her arms straight to hold their bodies apart. “I don’t have a waist any more for you to put your hands around,” she said wistfully. “I’m like a balloon.”
“It will be over soon, darling. Only a couple more months.”
She searched his face, wondering if he’d realized it was the first time he had addressed her with a casual endearment. He hadn’t changed only in appearance. The mystical aloofness of the halfbreed Indian had been replaced with the easy manner of an educated gentleman.
“Your mother must have gone home.” Claire craned her neck to survey the landscape. “There is no one here.”
“Maybe she is in the barn. Let’s go and take a look.”
Claire glanced back at the buggy, and decided the horse wouldn’t walk off, despite being left untied. Head drooping, he was nosing into the nearest puddle of water. She hurried after Rafael. He pulled open the double doors into the barn, and she followed him inside. After the bright sunlight, the interior felt like a dark cavern.
“He’s been here,” Claire said. Her eyes darted about, taking in everything—the clutter on the table, the colorful native blanket over a layer of straw on the bed. A few items of clothing hung from the nails hammered into the wall.
“Not him.” Rafael turned to her and cradled her face between his hands, searching her eyes. “Me.” He paused as he continued to look into her eyes. “I’m not a stranger. I’m the man who loved you here, who healed your pain after you’d been hurt.”
“I know that,” she replied, and lowered her head. Instead of seeing her feet, she saw the swell of her rounded belly. It reminded her of the enormity of everything that had happened to her in the past seven months. It occurred to her that perhaps Rafael returning as a completely different man was simply one change too much.
****
Instinctively, Rafael knew that in some strange way, Claire had detached the past from the present and held the memory of Rain Cloud in her heart as something separate from him. Unless he could change that, some part of her would always be closed to him, reserved for the memory of the halfbreed Indian who had disappeared without a trace.
Rafael couldn’t bear the thought of sharing her with someone else, even if that someone was part of him. He needed her to see the two men as one, to give him the same depth of passion now as she had given him during those three days they had shared at the barn. He needed her to stop drawing a line between the past and the present, between Rain Cloud the halfbreed Indian and Rafael De Santis the gentleman soldier and rancher.
He ran his hands down her arms and laced his fingers into hers. “I know you remember, but I want to remind you anyway,” he said and ushered her toward the bed.
Claire took halting backward steps, allowing him to guide her, until they reached the narrow cot lined up against the wall. He pushed her a little farther, and she tumbled to sit on the edge of the bed.
“There,” he said, and crouched down to remove her flimsy satin shoes. Then he slipped one arm behind her knees and swung her up on the bed.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Reminding you how it can be between us.”
“You can’t. Not here.” Her palms pressed against his chest, pushing him away. He could hear her breathing that had turned fast and shallow. Her breasts were rising and falling in an urgent rhythm. Alarm flickered in her eyes.
“I can,” he reassured her. “We can. I’ll close the door. No one will come.”
He left her for a few seconds to swing the doors shut and secure them with a heavy timber beam he picked up from the floor and slotted into the metal brackets, anchoring the beam firmly into place.
“Do you remember,” he asked softly when he returned to her side. “The light was about the same. It was dark outside, but we had two lamps burning.”
“I was hurting,” Claire whispered.
Rafael smoothed golden curls back from her brow. “You were hurting.”
“You gave me mescal to drink,” Claire said dreamily.
“You don’t need that now. Just think back. Trust your memory.”
He watched her eyelids flutter down. The long lashes made crescents against her pale skin. “My head was swimming,” she said.
“Your skin was sore.”
“I was hurting.”
Quickly, Rafael turned and crossed over to the table. He picked up the half empty jar of aloe salve, came back and twisted open the lid. “Do you remember the smell?” He held the open jar in front of her face. The better he could engage all her senses, the more likely it was that he could bring together the past and present in her mind.
He watched her breasts rise and fall as she breathed in the scent. The longing inside him grew almost unbearable, a deep ache that made his body tremble, but he knew that he had to keep everything slow and dreamy, just as it had been on that day.
“It soothed my skin.”
He closed the jar and went to place it back on the table, and then he returned to kneel by the side of the bed. “I told you that you had to find a new life if you wanted to close the door on your past.”
“You told me I had to meet my destiny.”
“I am your destiny,” Rafael said, his gaze focused on her face. “When you walked through the door to give up your past, I came with you. I am your future as well as your past.”
He watched her eyes flutter open, as blue as the summer sky. The worry on her features eased. “I’ve been so afraid,” she told him. “I wasn’t sure you’d come back.”
He gave her a gentle smile. “I could not have stayed away from you.” Leaning over, he kissed her on the mouth. When he felt her respond, the anxiety inside him ebbed.
“Do you remember?” he asked one more time. “You belong to me.”
“I remember.” Her eyes were wide open now, and her lips curved into a dreamy smile. “Rafael.” She reached out and pushed her fingers into his hair. “I remember everything we shared, every little detail.”
“I’ll give you everything a man can give to a woman.”
“You can start by growing out your hair and shaving off that scratchy beard.”
Rafael De Santis threw his head back and let out a
roar of laughter—the rich, carefree sound of a man who has just experienced the happiest moment of his life.
****
“Breathe,” Susanna said. “Breathe. It’s almost over.”
“How do you know?” Claire grunted. “Having a baby three months ago doesn’t make you an expert in childbirth.”
“I can see the head,” Carmen said. “Push. Push.”
Claire tightened her grip around the cotton sheet Carmen had tied to the bedstead. When the next contraction sliced through her body, she tore at the cloth with all her might, screaming at the top of her lungs.
“It’s coming,” Carmen said. “I can see the baby’s head.”
“You already said that.” Claire used the brief respite from the pain to take puffing breaths.
Carmen crouched at the end of the bed. “It’s moving. Push.”
The next contraction started almost as soon as the previous one was over. Claire screamed and heard the sound of suffering echo around the house. The baby was coming two weeks early. Connor had ridden out to get Dr Jameson, but Claire suspected it would be all over before the doctor arrived.
“Are you all right?” Rafael asked. Claire could see him hovering uncertainly behind Carmen. For once, his calm had been shattered.
“Of course I’m not all right,” she yelled. “I’m giving birth.” She let go off the sheet and reached out her hand. Rafael edged past Carmen and took her hand in his.
“It will be over soon.” He stroked her fingers. “We’ll love this baby no matter what.”
Claire pushed with every ounce of strength left in her. She wanted this baby out of her body, she wanted the pain to end, but she was afraid to know.
“Push,” Carmen urged.
“I’m pushing as hard as I can.” She strained, until she could feel the blood vessels in her face expand with the pressure. Something slid down between her legs, and the pain eased. Claire fell back against the pillows as the urgent wail of a newborn infant filled the room.
Carmen was busy at the foot of the bed, but Rafael remained beside her. “It’s over, darling.” He smoothed her damp curls and leaned to press a kiss against her forehead. “Rest now.”
“It’s a healthy baby,” Carmen declared.
Claire closed her eyes. “Someone please tell me.”
“It’s a boy,” Susanna said. “Two boys. What do we do now? They can’t marry each other.”
Claire gave a tired chuckle and opened her eyes again. She found Rafael hovering over her, smiling gently down at her.
“Tell me,” she pleaded.
“It’s not important.”
“I know. But tell me anyway.” She tried to rise up on her elbows, but there wasn’t enough strength left in her body.
Rafael released her hand and moved down to the end of the bed. Claire watched as he curled his arms over the bundle Carmen was holding out to him. Then he came back to her. His face remained serene as he cradled the child swathed inside a blanket. Claire could see nothing past the folds of the thick fabric.
“We’ve got ourselves a little Apache brave,” Rafael told her. He pulled aside the edge of the blanket to reveal a tiny wrinkled creature with olive skin and a damp thatch of black hair. Then the baby blinked, and Claire saw a pair of liquid dark eyes.
“I can’t wait to hear how you’ll explain this to my mother,” Rafael said, shaking his head in tender amusement as he lowered the baby into her arms.
Claire smiled at him through her tears. No loneliness and longing for her after all, but a husband to reverently touch his newborn child for the first time and share the miracle of a new life with her.
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Epilogue
Susanna sat beside Connor on the bench in the garden. The sun was sinking below Circle Star roof. Insects had started their evening chirp and tiny birds fluttered around the flowerbeds, pecking at the seeds scattered on the ground.
“What time did Claire and Rafael leave for Cedar City?” Connor asked.
“Around midday.” Susanna craned her head to look at the two cradles that lay side by side beneath the billowing mosquito nets. “They said they might stay the night, depending how long it takes to deal with the lawyer from Tucson.”
Claire—a wealthy woman now—was refusing to trust Catterill with her financial affairs. In Susanna’s view, no person on earth deserved a fortune more than Claire did after what Hartman had put her through.
“For a while, I felt terrible about having invited Claire to visit,” she confessed. “But it all worked out for her in the end.”
Connor dropped a kiss on her head. “It worked out for all of us.”
Susanna glanced over to the two sleeping infants. They had named their son Patrick after Connor’s father. Claire and Rafael had picked Sebastian for their son.
“Just imagine,” she said dreamily. “If I had a girl next, and Claire had a girl, they could marry the boys when they grow up…”
Connor’s arm tightened around her shoulders. “No,” he said. “There’s been enough meddling in people’s lives. You father was wrong to put that clause in his will. It could have been a disaster. It very nearly was.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Susanna sighed with contentment and burrowed deeper against Connor’s side. “I thought it all turned out quite well.”
THE END
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About this Book
I wrote Circle Star in 2006, immediately after finishing Klondike Dreams, a long historical novel set in the Klondike gold rush. I did a huge amount of research for Klondike Dreams, my first historical novel, and I wanted to put some of that knowledge to use in another work set around the same period.
I also wanted to write a historical romance that fitted as closely as possible to the popular category romance formula—alpha hero, spunky but feminine heroine, and a nasty villain.
While I was writing the story, the heroine’s best friend gained a more prominent role than I had intended, which resulted in a book with two intertwined stories about two different couples fighting the same villains.
I submitted the book to Harlequin, but by the time they got back to me almost a year later with some potentially good news, I had become tired of waiting and had offered the book elsewhere. It was published in 2008—my first published novel—by Resplendence Publishing.
Although the book received mainly positive reviews, some readers disliked the way the focus shifted to a different couple halfway through the story. A few years later, I withdrew the novel from publication, with the view of revising the story to separate it into two parts.
This turned out more difficult than I had expected. I broke up the story but it didn’t work. I put it back together but made the two stories intertwined from the beginning. That didn’t work either. I separated the stories once more and mulled over them for months. The only way to solve the dilemma was to add several chapters of new material to Susanna’s story, and edit Claire’s story to delink some of the overlapping events.
Better? Or just different? Every writer wrestles with those doubts during the rewriting and editing process. I hope that the days and weeks I spent on the revisions have made the story more enjoyable.
About the Author:
Tatiana March lives in the UK with her boyfriend of more than 25 years who is a wildlife enthusiast. They have no children.
Books have always been Tatiana’s passion and she spends most of time reading or writing. Her favorite period for historical novels is the American West 1850-1900.
You can learn more about Tatiana and her books on
tatianamarch.blogspot.co.uk
Other books by Tatiana March
Contemporary Romance:
Project Seduction
Trouble with the Law
Home for a Soldier
Le PACS
Learning to Forgive
Lies and Consequences
Reckless Encounter
How Cat Got a Life
Rugged
<
br /> Sing That Song for Me
Trading Favors
Cosmic Forces
Woman Trap
Ballet Shoes and Engine Grease
Romantic Suspense:
The Layton Prophecy
Secrets of the Past
Angelheart
Historical Romance
Circle Star
Saints and Sinners
Klondike Dreams
The Virgin’s Debt
Submit to the Warrior
Surrender to the Knight
The Drifter’s Bride
****
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Circle Star Page 33
