Pregnant by the Colton Cowboy

by Lara Lacombe

  But then she had turned up pregnant.

  Mac had known right away it was his, even though she never confirmed it. As soon as he’d found out about the baby he’d known he had to stay. No way could he leave his child. So he’d stuck around, taking a more active role in the lives of her other children. He had fallen in love with them, too, and was glad that he could still be a part of their lives. Fortunately, Livia had turned a mostly blind eye to his involvement. As the years had gone by and he'd realized her true colors, he wondered if perhaps she hadn’t cared about his presence, or if she had simply been happy to take advantage of his willingness to step up and actually parent the kids she was content to treat as accessories. But whatever her reason, she’d left him alone.

  As soon as Mac had seen the baby, he’d known Thorne was his. There was no doubt in his mind, even if Wes refused to publicly acknowledge it. Mac had taken one look at that baby and fallen head over heels in love. The intensity of his reaction had surprised him; he’d thought the pain caused by Livia's rejection would overshadow any paternal affection he might have felt for the wee one. But his love for Thorne had burned away his anguish, cleaning out disappointment and sense of rejection that had been festering inside him. Mac would never fully get over the choice Livia had made. But he couldn’t totally regret their actions either, not when Thorne had been the consequence.

  He’d never told Thorne the details of his conception. He'd told his son that his relationship with Livia had been a mistake, but he wasn’t willing to share more than that. It wouldn’t do anyone good to dredge up the past.

  He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of memories from his brain. Thinking about Livia always put him in a bad mood. And if she was really targeting Thorne now that she was out of prison? Well, that was low, even for her.

  Mac wasn’t sure what he could do to protect his son and his future grandchild. But he wasn’t about to sit around and let Livia take potshots at the people he cared about. That woman had already sowed too much chaos and destruction, and Thorne had paid the price many times over for being her son. He deserved some happiness, something pure and untarnished by the evil in Livia’s soul.

  He wasn’t a violent man, but a dark part of Mac wished Livia would appear on the trail in front of him so he could wring her neck. Her specter hung over the lives of her children, and he knew none of them would feel truly safe until she was dead. It broke his heart that the kids had grown up without knowing the joys of a mother’s love. He was glad that Knox and Leonor had found someone to share their lives with, and it made his heart sing to see Thorne with Maggie. But he still worried about the other kids, especially Jade. She’d been the one to finally bring her mother down, and she’d earned a target on her back for her efforts. Livia’s escape from prison had put all her children on edge, but Mac knew Jade lived in fear that mother would come back to seek revenge for what she viewed as a betrayal.

  He made a mental note to ask Knox about the status of the investigation into Livia’s whereabouts. Knox still had connections in the Texas Rangers, and maybe they would want to come out and take fingerprints or other evidence from the smoldering remains of his barn. Sheriff Jeffries didn’t seem too interested in mounting a forensic investigation, claiming he didn’t have the resources to spare. But Mac figured there had to be a few useful clues amid the destruction, maybe even something compelling enough to put Livia away for the rest of her life.

  The morning sun was warm on his back and he closed his eyes and basked in the glow for a moment. Despite all the dangers and troubles going on right now, it was shaping up to be a truly beautiful day. Of course, that would make it much harder to convince Thorne to stay in bed and rest...

  He crested a low ridge, shaking his head at his son’s stubbornness. It was further proof Thorne was his get, as if there was any doubt left.

  A small copse of trees lay to the right, the leafy green branches swaying in the breeze. Birdsong floated in the air, the trill of warblers and the whistle of sparrows undercut by the jeering notes from blue jays. He paused for a moment, enjoying the sounds of spring on the ranch. He imagined the birds, flitting from tree to bush, from branch to nest, gathering food and teaching their hatchlings the basics of life.

  He glanced over to the left, to a stretch of land left mostly untouched. Grass stalks grew tall and wispy, dancing gracefully in the wind. It was a mesmerizing sight, almost hypnotic in its beauty. Mac felt a sense of peace wash over him as he emptied his mind of thoughts of Livia and focused on the beauty of the land.

  His land.

  The horse leaned forward, eager to graze on the fresh, tender grass of the field. Mac gave him his head, content to let the animal roam for a few minutes.

  They started down the slope, the horse stopping every few paces to grab a mouthful from a particularly tasty clump of green. Mac’s gaze caught on the well about fifty yards away. It was an old, hand-dug well, long dried up. He’d boarded it over and took pains to make sure it stayed that way—this stretch of the ranch was fairly isolated, and if anyone were to accidentally fall in, it was unlikely they would still be alive when they were found. He’d replaced the boards with fresh lumber not two months ago, but something about the well seemed off...

  Mac stood in the saddle, squinting to get a better look. The shape was different, and he realized with a small jolt that the cover he’d so recently bolted over the top had been removed and was leaning against the stone apron.

  He kneed the horse into a trot, his heart kicking into his throat. It was probably just some kids messing around, but he hoped no one had fallen in...

  He jumped down from the saddle and rushed over to the edge of the well. He paused a second to brace himself for what he might find, then leaned over to peer down into the dusty depths.

  It was empty.

  His breath gusted out in a sigh of relief. At least no one was hurt.

  He turned to the wood leaning against the stone, annoyance replacing his worry. The cover he’d fashioned out of two-by-fours was intact, undamaged except for a few marks around the edges where someone had pried the wood up using a crowbar. Probably some kind of prank, maybe the work of teenagers on a dare. Either way, he’d have to make another trip out here—he didn’t have the tools in his saddlebag to fix this.

  Even though he couldn’t bolt the cover back down, he still needed to slide it back into place to discourage any would-be daredevils who might come back. Mac slipped his work gloves on and took a grip on the wood, grunting a bit as he heaved it up and onto the lip of the well’s opening. He’d deliberately made the cover solid and strong, hoping its weight would help keep it in place.

  It took a little elbow grease, but he managed to slide the wood across the well opening. That would do for now. He pulled off his gloves and stepped back, eyeing the cover critically. He’d need new bolts, a few washers, the wrench...

  His horse nickered in alarm, and he turned to check on the animal. The grass made for good grazing, but it also provided camouflage for snakes that might be warming themselves in the morning sun. If his horse had startled a rattler, Mac would have bigger problems than a missing well cover.

  He was still moving when he caught a flash of movement on the edges of his vision. Then the back of his head exploded in a bright nova of pain and he dropped to the ground, the world going dark.

  Chapter 20

  Maggie stretched, arching her back as she extended her legs and lifted her arms above her head. Her muscles shifted and pulled, twinging pleasurably as she moved. A few new aches registered, thanks in large part to last night’s activities. The memory sent a flush of heat through her limbs, and she relaxed back into the soft embrace of the mattress, images of Thorne flashing through her mind in a sensuous, sexy highlight reel of their night together.

  “Good morning.”

  Thorne’s deep voice washed over her like a caress. Maggi
e turned to find him watching her, his eyes warm and a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

  “Morning,” she replied, reaching out to cup his cheek. “How’d you sleep?”

  He chuckled. “It wasn’t my most restful night.” He turned to nip the palm of her hand, sending a shiver up her arm. “But I’m not about to complain.”

  Maggie rolled onto her side and threw a leg over Thorne’s thigh. “You did work pretty hard.”

  His hand trailed down her stomach, the light touch making her squirm. “You seemed to enjoy yourself,” he observed. His hand dipped lower and she gasped, her reply forgotten as Thorne’s clever fingers ensured she was well and truly awake.

  “You’re not playing fair,” she said, reaching for him.

  But Thorne shifted out of her grasp. “I don’t think so,” he teased. He gathered her wrists with his free hand and raised her arms above her head. Then he guided her onto her back. “I’m in charge this morning.”

  Maggie relaxed, happy to submit to Thorne’s attentions. Every kiss, every stroke, every touch—each one was further proof of his love for her.

  Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her until she was drowning in sensation, unable to think or even speak. She held on to Thorne, his presence a solid anchor as the world spun around her.

  Her release came quickly, a shuddering burst that made her muscles tremble. She dimly heard Thorne hum with satisfaction and felt the mattress dip as he lay down next to her. His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her over until she lay flush against him, his body a warm, solid wall against her back.

  She wasn’t sure how much time passed, but the window glowed brightly with the morning sunshine when Thorne spoke again. “Did you know you snore?”

  His question was so unexpected it took Maggie a moment to fully process his words. Indignation rose in her chest and she pulled free from his embrace, rolling over to face him. “I do not!”

  “Like a freight train,” he said, oblivious to her dismay. “There were a few times I thought you were going to break the windows.”

  “Thorne!” She pushed his shoulder playfully. “I’ve never snored in my life.”

  One dark eyebrow shot up. “I beg to differ,” he said solemnly. “I can record it, if you like.”

  “No, I would not like.” She sniffed, her pride feeling a little bruised. “How do you know it was me? Maybe you were hearing your father through the walls.”

  “Nice try, but it was definitely you.” Thorne leaned over and tried to kiss her, but she twisted away. He laughed and reached for her again. “It’s actually kind of cute.”

  “Cute?” She stopped evading him and he pulled her close again.

  “Yep,” he confirmed, pressing his lips to the tip of her nose. “I got a kick out of hearing such loud sounds come from such a dainty woman.”

  Maggie snorted inelegantly. “Please. I’m not dainty.” She gestured down the length of her body. “I’m pretty much the opposite of dainty right now. All thanks to you,” she tacked on, giving him a mock glare.

  His grin was full of male pride, beaming and unapologetic. “Damn straight,” he said, sliding his hand down to rest on her bump. “You’re all mine, Maggie girl. Can’t get rid of me now.”

  “Good thing I don’t want to,” she replied, placing her hand over his.

  “Want some breakfast?”

  The suggestion of food made her stomach flutter, but she put on a brave face. “Maybe just a little something.”

  Thorne gave her belly a soft pat and climbed out of bed. “Leave it to me. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

  Maggie watched him walk away, admiring the view of his toned backside as he moved down the hall. He ducked into the bathroom for a moment, then emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist. “I’ll grab something clean for you to wear,” he called back. “I’ll put it in the bathroom if you want to hop in the shower.”

  “Thanks,” Maggie said. She hated to wash Thorne’s touch from her skin, but she did need to get cleaned up. Might as well get started while Thorne was putting breakfast together. She headed for the bathroom and stepped under the warm spray of the shower, memories from the night before keeping her company as she bathed.

  She stepped out to find some clothes sitting on the bathroom counter. She smiled at the sight; Thorne must have sneaked in while she was showering. It was one of those small, thoughtful gestures Thorne specialized in, his way of looking after her and showing that he cared.

  The shirt and pants obviously belonged to Mac, but they were clean and didn’t reek of smoke like her clothes did. The T-shirt was huge but comfortable, the well-worn cotton soft as silk. She eyed the pants apprehensively, but she needn’t have worried. Thorne had found her a pair of sweatpants, and while they were a little large, the elastic waist accommodated her bump nicely.

  Feeling refreshed, Maggie headed for the kitchen, where the scents of toast and scrambled eggs beckoned enticingly. Thorne turned as she walked into the kitchen and offered her a smile.

  “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to a bar stool snugged up against the counter. “I’m almost done here.”

  Maggie crossed the room, a little disappointed to see Thorne had swapped out the towel for his own set of sweatpants and a T-shirt. It’s still a nice view, though, she mused as she climbed onto the stool. While Mac’s clothes were too big for her, Thorne had the opposite problem. His broad shoulders and muscled arms stretched the fabric of his shirt and the cotton pants left little to her imagination.

  Not that she needed to imagine anything after last night. Or this morning, for that matter.

  Her body flushed as a wave of heat started in her chest and spread outward, suffusing her limbs and making her feel deliciously aware of Thorne’s nearness.

  Whoa, she thought, taken aback by her body’s response. It hadn’t even been an hour since Thorne’s good-morning treat, and she was already wanting more.

  It’s got to be the pregnancy hormones, she decided. That was the only reasonable explanation for this sudden insatiability.

  If Thorne was aware of her carnal cravings, he didn’t show it. He twisted the knob on the stove and carried the pan over to the counter, where he divided the eggs onto two plates. After adding a few slices of toast, he set one in front of her with a dramatic flourish.

  “Bon appétit,” he said with a wink.

  “Thank you,” she said. She forked a bite of eggs into her mouth, hoping they would taste as good as they looked. But the food congealed on her tongue, a gummy mass that nearly made her retch.

  She quickly grabbed a napkin and dabbed at her mouth, hoping Thorne didn’t notice her discreet attempt to spit out the food.

  “Stomach bothering you?” he asked, his tone sympathetic.

  “A little,” she admitted. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” he said. “Is there anything I can do to help you feel better? Something else I can make for you?”

  Maggie shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m going to try the toast. I think that will go down easier.” She took a cautious bite, pleased to find her stomach didn’t immediately protest the taste.

  Thorne watched her, his eyes glued to her face as she chewed and eventually swallowed the toast. “Do you think horses get morning sickness?” she asked, only half joking.

  He appeared to consider her question for a moment. “Well, horses can’t vomit, so—”

  “What?” she blurted out before he could finish. “They can’t throw up?” That sounded nice right about now...

  Thorne lifted one shoulder and slid his toast onto her plate, then scooped her eggs onto his. “Nope. It's one of their physiological quirks. So to answer your question, they don’t get that part of morning sickness. But I have seen a few mares that look a bit off during the early months of pregnancy. May
be that’s their version of it?”

  “Maybe so,” Maggie murmured, still flabbergasted at the revelation that horses were incapable of doing something that seemed to come so naturally to her right now. What else was different about these creatures that Thorne loved so much?

  “Can we go see Rose after this?”

  Thorne seemed pleased by her question. “I was hoping you’d want to,” he said. “And yes, we definitely can.”

  “Where did she stay last night? Mac said something about an older barn?”

  He nodded. "Yes, it's about a half mile out. I’m sure the workers put all the horses in there for the night.”

  “That’s good,” she said, glad to hear Rose hadn’t had to spend the night outside. For some reason, the thought of the pregnant mare sleeping under a tree worried her.

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” Thorne said between bites. “She’s not due to give birth until next week, so I’m not too worried about her yet.”

  “Do you think Mac has already checked on her this morning?”

  Thorne nodded. “Oh, most definitely. He’s been gone since the sun came up.”

  Maggie eyed him over her toast. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve been up that long as well?”

  He smiled at that. “Guilty as charged.”

  “You were supposed to get some rest,” she chided. And since they hadn’t done much sleeping last night, he was probably exhausted.

  “Old habits,” he said simply. “I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me? I hate to think of you awake and lonely.”

  “Are you kidding me? You’re pregnant with my child and you think I’m going to deprive you of sleep because I woke up early? No way.” He shook his head and forked another bite of eggs into his mouth. “Absolutely not,” he said, the words muffled. He swallowed and spoke again, his voice gentle. “You need your rest, now more than ever.”

  “I do appreciate it,” she said. “I’m pretty much the opposite of a morning person, so having a baby is going to be a big adjustment.”