"Your feet can suffer for one night," Caitlin had said. "As for the dress ... " She'd laughed. "Every man who sees you is going to try to figure out how you got into it, and how he can get you out of it."
Gage had suffered. She'd known that from the second he'd spotted her. The nerve of him, thinking she'd been searching the room for him ... although, angry and out of love with him as she was, that first glimpse of him, tall, dark and handsome in his tux, with all that heat in his eyes, had almost undone her.
Gage, she'd thought. Oh, Gage, I still-I still ...
Natalie clucked her tongue as she made her way down the hall. She didn't "still" anything. Even if she did, what was the good of a marriage that didn't work? Gage had changed. Their relationship had changed. And the sooner they ended it, the better.
She stepped inside the bedroom and closed the door. The room was dark, except for a pale swath of moonlight that stretched from the window to the bathroom. She reached for the light switch, then hesitated. Why turn on the lights when she could see all she needed to see just fine? Her head ached, as much from the champagne as from the strain of the evening. And she probably had only a few minutes to get ready, before Gage put in an appearance.
The last she'd seen of him, he'd been standing on the patio, alone, arms folded, back stiff as a steel rod, with a face like granite.
She could just imagine that face when he got here and discovered he was going to spend the night curled on the dollhouse-size couch in the dressing room.
Natalie went into the bathroom, washed her face and brushed her teeth. Then she headed back into the bedroom and began to work the too small dress down over her hips. It was made of some kind of stretchy material; you had to tug and pull to get it down ...
"Natalie?' '
The light came on, as blinding as a flare. She gasped and threw her arm over her eyes.
"Natalie?" Gage said again, and she dropped her arm and stared across the room at her husband.
He was sitting up against the pillows with the blankets down around his hips. His hair was tousled, his jaw was shadowed, his chest was bare. He looked as sexy as she'd ever seen him ...
And what in hell was he doing here?
"What in hell are you doing here?" she demanded.
Gage frowned. "What do you mean, what am I doing here?
This is my room."
"I know it's your room. But you were downstairs, on the patio ... "
But he wasn't on the patio now. He was here, and she was here. He was naked-he always slept naked. And she might as well have been, considering the wispy black bra she was wearing, the scrap of black lace, the black stockings and garter belt because, dammit, that was what Caitlin said Neiman Marcus had sent to wear with the dress ...
"What are you looking at?" Natalie demanded.
Gage sat up straighter. What, indeed? His wife, that's what he was looking at. His sexy, beautiful wife, who had chosen not to spend the night in a spare room, who'd chosen not to spend it with one of the sleazy bastards who'd fawned all over her downstairs because ...
Because she wanted him.
''I'm looking at you, babe," he said very softly, and in one easy motion, he tossed back the covers, rose from the bed, and started towards her.
Natalie's heart gave a thump. "Gage," she said.
"Gage ... "
Don't. That was what she intended to say, but how could she tell a lie?
Her throat constricted. The man coming towards her was her husband. Her handsome, virile husband, his blue eyes blazing with desire, his body fully, magnificently aroused.
He wanted her. And she-she wanted him. She always had, always would ...
"Natalie," he whispered when he reached her.
She trembled as he reached out and cupped her face in his hands. He kissed her, gently at first, his lips barely brushing hers, and she made a soft, sweet sound in her throat that sent the blood surging though his veins.
"Tell me," he said thickly as he undid her bra. "Say it. I need to hear you say it."
Her head fell back as her breasts tumbled into his waiting hands. He bent and kissed the creamy slopes, the proud crests; he whispered her name as he eased the scrap of black lace down her hips.
"Tell me," he demanded as his eyes met hers again, and Natalie gave a choked sob and went into her husband's arms.
"Make love to me, Gage," she whispered. "Kiss me.
Touch me. Come deep inside me ... "
Gage groaned, swung his wife into his arms, carried her to the bed and took what had always been, what surely always would be, his.
CHAPTER SEVEN
NATALIE awoke to the warmth of the sun and the heat of her husband's arms.
The night they'd spent flashed before her like a dream. A wonderful dream, overflowing with passion, and with love.
Oh, it was a miracle! Here shy was, locked in Gage's embrace again, dizzy with feelings she'd all but forgotten ...
"Good morning, wife."
She smiled dreamily as Gage turned on his side, his arms still holding her close.
"Good morning, husband."
He kissed her, his mouth gentle against hers. "I had a wonderful dream last night."
"Really?" Natalie's lips curved against his. "What a coincidence. I had a wonderful dream, too."
Gage's hand slipped lightly down her back, cupped her bottom and drew her closer against him. The familiar heat and hardness of his aroused flesh pressed against her and she made a soft murmur of pleasure.
"Nice," she sighed.
Gage chuckled. "Wicked woman," he said, and moved against her.
"I meant," Natalie said, trying to sound prim but failing miserably, "it's nice we both had good dreams."
"Uh-huh." He kissed her again, his tongue slipping between her parted lips. "I dreamed you and I made love. Is that what you dreamed?"
Her eyes drifted shut. "Yes. I had the same ... oh. Oh," she whispered, her breath catching, "Gage..."
"Nat." His voice was a choked groan. "Babe, you feel so good. So right. So perfect, in my arms."
So good. So right. So perfect. Natalie buried her face in Gage's shoulder as he moved over her. That was how she felt, too. Making love with him had been wonderful. For the first time in more months than she wanted to count, it hadn't been only her body that had responded to his caresses, it had been her soul.
She couldn't remember the last time it had been like this between them. It had almost happened that night in the Holcombs's garden, but the feeling hadn't lasted.
Last night, it had.
She'd been on fire for Gage's kisses. For his touch. There'd been no time to think, to weigh if what she was doing was right or wrong, if she'd regret it the next day, if...
Natalie's eyes flew open. "Gage."
"Mmm." "Gage, wait."
"I have waited." He kissed her breast, slid his hand between her thighs. "I've waited weeks, Nat. Months. It hasn't been this way for a long, long time."
"That's what I mean." Natalie put her hands on her husband’s shoulders and pushed him away. "We didn't use anything last night."
"Didn't use ...
"Yes. And we haven't done that since-since....
Gage went still. "Since you lost the baby," he said, and rolled off her.
Natalie felt the coldness start in her heart and work its way through her blood. Since you lost the baby. Not, since we lost our baby, but why would he have said it that way? Why change it, when he'd been saying the same thing, the same way, from the day she'd miscarried?
"Yes." All at once, she felt exposed. Vulnerable. She reached for the sheet, dragged it up over herself and clutched it to her chin. What a fool she was! Could she really have thought that one night of passion would change things? "That's right." Her voice was cool, almost toneless, mirroring the emptiness in her heart. "This is the first time we didn't use protection since I lost the baby."
Gage nodded. He sat up against the headboard, then looked at his wife. A moment ago, she'd been lyi
ng beneath him, her body warm, naked and welcoming. Now she was covered from her toes to her chin, looking at him as if he were some unpleasant creature that had invaded her personal space.
A coldness settled in the pit of his belly. That look was on her face again, the look he'd sworn to himself, after she'd walked out of his life, he'd damn well never tolerate again.
"Meaning," he said, "you might have gotten yourself knocked up last night."
He knew well that the words were cruel and crude but he didn't care, not even when he saw Natalie flinch. She wasn't the only one who'd realized they'd made love without him wearing a condom. He'd thought of it the last time she'd gone into his arms, with dawn just breaking in the eastern sky. And the sudden realization that they might be creating a child that Natalie wanted his child-had made the moment she'd shattered in his arms and he in hers, all the sweeter.
What a fool you are, Baron, he thought coldly, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Natalie tugged furiously at the sheet and wound it around herself as she sat up.
"What a charming way to put it," she said, her voice trembling. "But you needn't worry, Gage. Fortunately for us both, this is the wrong time of the month."
"And a damned good thing," he said as the weight in his belly moved up and became a lump of iron lodged in his heart. "The last thing we'd want is a child, Natalie. Isn't that right?"
Natalie got to her feet, the sheet wrapped tightly around her.
"Absolutely," she said, and slammed the bathroom door behind her.
Travis was seated at the dining room table when Gage came striding into the room.
"Good morning," he said.
Gage growled a response, poured himself a cup of coffee, and pulled out a chair.
Travis's brows lifted. "Somehow, I get the impression it isn't. A good morning, I mean."
Gage shot him a look. "I'm warning you right now, Travis, I am not in the mood for fun and games."
Travis nodded. Actually, neither was he. The weekend wasn't working out quite as he'd expected, but he had the feeling Gage wasn't in the mood to trade war stories. Besides, he wasn't really sure what kind of story he had to tell, or even if he wanted to tell it. Not yet.
"Well, let me make your mood worse by giving you the good news and the bad news." He rose from his chair, went to the sideboard and speared another waffle onto his plate. "The good news is we can blow off the formal brunch. The bad news is that we have a command performance with the old man in half an hour."
"The old man knows what he can do with his command performances.'
"Yeah." Slade strolled into the dining room and headed for the sideboard. "I don't think he can get away with ordering us to muck out the stalls in the stable anymore, if we don't click our heels and salute."
"And don't you sound cheerful this morning," Gage said, looking up from his coffee.
"Do me a favour, okay? Just layoff the wisecracks." Slade stalked to the sideboard. "How're the waffles? Does Carmen still make them so light you have to hold 'em down with a fork?"
"Light as air," Travis said.
"And a good thing," Slade said darkly. "At least, some things don't change."
Travis and Gage looked at each other. After a minute, the three brothers tucked into their breakfasts. It wasn't long before Slade pushed his plate aside and reached for his coffee.
"So, Jonas wants to see us. Any idea what it's about?" "Espada," Grant Landon said as he entered the room.
"Morning, gentlemen. Is that breakfast laid out on that sideboard, or is it dinner for sixty?"
"I see you're trying for the casual look today, Landon."
Gage smiled. "White shirt, gray suit... but no tie."
"Let me team you with my wife," Grant said coolly. "The two of you have enough material for a comedy routine."
Travis and Slade exchanged a look.
"Uh, try the waffles," Travis said. "And the homemade strawberry preserves. You'll think you died and went to heaven."
Silence settled over the room again. Then Slade cleared his throat. "You said the old man wants to discuss Espada, Landon? How would you know that?"
"He'd know it because he's Jonas's attorney." Caitlin strode into the dining room, waved the men back into their chairs when they started to stand, and stole a strip of bacon from Slade's plate. "Jonas is worried about what's going to happen when he dies. Isn't that right, Grant?"
"You've got it." Grant split open a biscuit and loaded it with strawberry jam. "He's asked me to assure you that you'll all share equally in the Baron holdings."
. "All four of us," Travis said firmly, looking at his stepsister.
"All four, yes. Jonas was very clear about that." A smile softened Grant's hard mouth. "He thinks of Caitlin as his daughter." The smile faded. "Except with regard to Espada."
Gage looked up and frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Caitlin said quietly, "that Jonas will only leave the ranch to someone who has Baron blood." A rueful smile slid over her lips. "And that leaves me out."
"But you love this place," Gage said.
"I do." She smiled tightly. "But I'm not a Baron." "That' s ridiculous." Travis shoved back his chair. "Every one of us but Catie chose to leave Espada and make a life elsewhere, and I'd bet my last buck not a one of us would be willing to come back."
"Right," Slade and Gage said in what might have been one voice.
"You see, Landon? Our sister's the only one who gives a damn about the ranch."
"I agree. But take it from me, gentlemen-and lady," Grant added with a nod in Caitlin's direction. "Men like your father make unilateral decisions that don't fit any logic but their own. And this isn't Grant Landon, Esquire, talking, guys, it's Grant Landon, offspring of a tough old S.O.B. who ran his own corner of the world pretty much the way Jonas does."
Gage rose, walked to Caitlin's side and put his arm around her. "Well, the old man will just have to change his plans."
"He won't." Grant shrugged. "He'll leave Espada to his nephew, if none of you will tell him what he wants to hear."
"To Leighton?" Travis snorted. "That man's as sneaky as a snake."
"And lower than its belly," Slade added.
"This is just ridiculous," Gage said sharply. "And it sure as hell isn't fair." He paused, then gave a hollow laugh. "On the other hand, neither is life."
"Damn right," Grant muttered.
Silence fell over the room again. This time, it remained unbroken.
Natalie hadn't made a sound during the time it had taken Gage to dress and leave the bedroom.
She'd stood plastered against the bathroom door, listening, not drawing an easy breath until, at last, she heard the door slam shut after him.
"You idiot," she said as she turned to the mirror.
What in hell had she been thinking of, to have slept with him.
Natalie blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. That was just the trouble. She hadn't been thinking. Otherwise, she'd never have had sex with Gage. And that was what they'd done, she thought grimly as she turned on the shower, they'd had sex. They'd screwed. Even thinking the word made her flinch but, dammit, there was no way she'd go on pretending that what they'd done had anything to do with making love.
It hadn't, for a long time.
Gage still wanted her, still found her an attractive turn-on, but that was all that remained of their relationship. And, as he'd just reminded her, losing the baby had only confirmed it.
God, the despair of that day. Her sobs. Her anguish. Her need for the comfort of Gage's arms. But he'd been out of town, as usual, on some big business deal, as usual, and she had been alone ... She made a wry face at herself in the mirrror. All alone, as usual.
Natalie wrapped herself in a towel and walked slowly into the bedroom.
She'd been alone, one way or another, during her preggnancy, too. Gage had been in the middle of overseeing the construction of a hotel.
"Uh-huh," he'd say when she'd ask him a
bout nursery wallpaper or cribs or colors. "Right. Whatever you like, Nat. Check with the decorator, why don't you?"
Natalie pulled on her clothes.
Eventually, she'd figured out that he wasn't just busy, he was disinterested. Men were like that, Liz Holcomb said, but Gage wasn't "men," he was her husband. And he was going to be the father of her child ...
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