Melanie touched her tummy. Colt's heritage, and hers too, were displayed in this room. And soon she would rock their baby to sleep in the big padded rocker and whisper nursery rhymes and Indian folklore.
"I thought I'd find you here."
She didn't turn to the sound of Colt's voice; instead she waited to experience his approach—the familiar sound of ranch-worn boots, the subtle scent of masculine cologne. Only hours before, they had chosen gold bands to seal their upcoming union. He had insisted on buying her an engagement ring, as well, even though their formal engagement would be short. He'd claimed the diamond would forever remind him of the day she'd accepted his proposal. She smiled as his scent drifted closer. To Melanie, the glittering stone would immortalize the moment Colt Raintree had professed his love.
He encircled her waist, and she leaned into him. As he caressed her tummy, a memory flashed into her mind. They had stood together in the maternity shop in California, her stomach enhanced by a pillow, his hands placed upon it. But this time a child lay cradled in her womb, and the man behind her would soon be her husband.
Neither spoke, for words proved unnecessary. They belonged to this room, to their baby, to each other.
Colt's mouth brushed the side of her neck, and she turned to face him. Their lips met ever so gently. She all but melted, feeling seventeen once again and enamored of a kind-hearted cowboy. He held her close, then knelt to press a tender kiss upon her tummy. Melanie touched his hair and smiled. For a time they gazed at each other, sharing the moment. When he stood, they joined hands and walked quietly to the master bedroom.
The spacious suite benefited from Colt's Montana roots, boasting beamed ceilings and a stone hearth. A tall pine dresser displayed a set of wrought-iron candelabras. Beside them a bundle of sage burned in a small clay pot. The sweet earthy smell aroused Melanie's senses.
Colt's husky voice beckoned. "I want you to move in. Tonight," he emphasized. "This is our house now."
She reclined on the four-poster bed. "Is that an order, Mr. Raintree?"
"Yes." He removed his shirt. "It is."
She watched him, enthralled by the power of his body, the broad expanse of his chest, slim line of his hips. Clad in unfastened jeans, he slid onto the bed, crawling toward her like a jungle cat—a sleek, sensual creature.
"I've missed touching you," he whispered, reaching for the buttons on her delicate cotton dress. Her feet and legs were already bare, and she longed to be naked. To feel his flesh against hers.
He undressed her slowly, taking care with each button. While he worked them free, she lowered her gaze to his open fly, to the shadow of dark hair and strain of his erection. He was perfect. And he was hers.
He lifted her dress, then sat on his heels to look at her. Pleasure shone in his eyes. Clearly he liked what he saw—a woman in a white lace bra and matching panties, her hair loose about her shoulders, her tummy swollen with his child. Just a little bit pregnant, she thought, but enough to make him proud of the change in her body.
Colt kissed her then, tongue to tongue—a moist, playful kiss that flared her passion. Within a heartbeat they shed the remainder of their clothes and she moved closer. He smiled and slipped his hand between her thighs.
Melanie abandoned herself to the sensations he incited and shifted her legs, inviting more of his touch. He continued the sensual pursuit, stroking her with a steady rhythm, spreading ripples of excitement through her veins.
He made a sound, a deep virile groan as she pressed him low in the belly and traced his erection with her thumb. They lay side by side, touching, kissing, generously giving pleasure, greedily taking it. And when she climaxed from his skillful manipulations, he watched her, his lips curving into a satisfied smile.
"You're beautiful," he said.
She skimmed his cheek, the smooth copper skin, rough masculine beard stubble. "You make me feel beautiful."
Their eyes met as he moved over her, eager yet gentle. She raised her hips to accept his penetration, ready to sheath the rigid length. He entered her easily, their hearts soaring in perfect harmony.
Melanie crooned his name and ran her hands through his hair. Long, lean, muscular Colt. Jungle-cat sensuality. He felt like a dark-eyed panther moving inside her, mating her for life, claiming her for his own. As she snaked her tongue out to taste the salty succulence of his skin, he shivered. Bewitched, she arched and purred. The scent of sage continued to drift through the air, melding with human arousal.
She wanted this joining to last forever, the swells and shudders, the tender, erotic feeling of being in love. Yet she wanted him to increase the tempo, to push faster, stronger, deeper.
He groaned and she caressed him. Everywhere. His face, his neck, each hardened nipple, the flat, rippling stomach. In turn, he kissed her, sending shocks of electricity through her core. And when she began to shake, Colt arched his back, grasped her hips, and thrust deeper, filling her with all he had to give. Love. And liquid fire.
* * *
Colt pricked his finger with the boutonniere and cursed. He'd never been so happy, yet so nervous in his life.
"Here, let me do it." Shorty pinned the white rose onto Colt's lapel and stepped back to study him. "You look fine. Real dapper."
"You think so?" He tugged on the tie. The men wore traditional black tuxedos. Colt preferred to keep the masculine attire as simple as possible. He wondered if his hair looked okay, but didn't ask. He had combed it away from his face and secured it into a tight ponytail.
"The house turned out festive," Shorty said, gazing around the room.
"Sure did." Vases of flowers graced the rustic interior, as did clusters of heart-shaped balloons. Pink and white streamers draped artfully from the wood beams. Everyone, including Gloria's kids, had participated in decorating, adding their own creative touches. Shorty had helped Colt arrange the extra tables and chairs, while the females fussed over the pastel splendor and silver bells.
Shorty sniffed the air. "Something smells good."
Colt nodded. Two caterers, hard at work, made use of the well-equipped kitchen. A prime rib dinner would be served in the formal dining room, and soon, trays of hors d'oeuvres and small baskets of candy would be scattered about.
Colt had arranged a limousine for the ladies and children, all of whom were thrilled about being chauffeured to the church. Since Fred planned to drive himself over, Shorty and Colt decided to ride together.
Colt was glad to have Shorty take such an important role in his wedding, and thought the gruff cowboy cleaned up nice. The black tux suited him well. "You know, Shorty, you look pretty good yourself. It does seem strange to see you without a hat, though."
Shorty rubbed his head. "Yeah, feels odd, too." He reached into his pocket and handed Colt a black leather strip with an eagle feather and a strand of small silver beads attached. "This belonged to Toby Raintree, your pa. He used to wear it in his hair, and he gave it to your momma on the day your grandpa run him off. Your ma was so young, and your grandpa wasn't happy about a grown man courting his teenage daughter."
Colt listened intently as Shorty spoke about the father he had never known. "Toby promised your grandpa he wouldn't come back for your ma when she come of age, and he never did. Your granddaddy didn't want her marrying some poor ranch hand, but then again, he didn't know that cowboy had already made a baby with her. Nobody did. Your ma didn't find out she was carrying you until months after Toby was long gone.
"Anyway," Shorty continued, fingering the beads. "Your ma gave this to me when she found out she was dying. She told me to give it to you when you fell in love, to remember her and your daddy by. Toby was a drifter and a bit on the wild side, but she loved him."
Colt took the leather ornament and wiped away the moisture lining his eyes, realizing how important his father's feather must have been to his mother. He studied the gift with respect, recognizing the marks of the gray eagle, one of the most revered animals in the Cheyenne culture. "Will you tie it on for me?"
"Thanks." The two men hugged. "I know my mom would have liked Melanie."
The older man nodded. "Melanie's a good girl, Colt. You take care of her."
"I will, Shorty. I promise." He smiled as he thought about his soon-to-be bride, knowing she would be at the church by now, preparing herself in the dressing room the chapel provided.
* * *
Melanie secured the last pin into her hair and gazed at her reflection. She had styled her hair into a loose topknot, just the way Colt had suggested. She knew he found the look appealing and especially liked the fiery tendrils that framed her face. Melanie smiled. He loved her, truly loved her. And he told her every day, but not just in words. Colt expressed his devotion through boyish winks, sensuous smiles and reverent touches. They had shared everything lately, including their most private thoughts. Each had explored the other's heart until the two life forces had no choice but to beat as one. And now they would become one in the eyes of the world. Dreams, she thought, do come true.
Gloria came up behind her, and the two women looked at each other in the mirror. "We are gorgeous, aren't we?"
Melanie laughed and glanced around the small room at all the ladies waiting to walk down the aisle. "Yes, we are."
Gloria and her daughters were dressed in pink chiffon and lace. Each had a crown of tiny flowers in her hair. Gloria's bouquet had been fashioned from pink and white roses, and the flower girls would be sprinkling pink and white petals down the aisle. Melanie was given long-stemmed roses to carry because Colt had suggested a bouquet as graceful as the lines of her body. The poetry in his words had warmed the woman in her.
"Are you nervous?" Gloria asked.
Melanie nodded. "It's a good kind of nervous, though."
Gloria reached into a slim gold box and removed a strand of pearls. "I want you to wear these, and then keep them to remember your family by." The other woman clasped the delicate pearls around her neck. They shone exquisitely with the silk dress. "My family is your family, Mel. We love you like you're one of our own."
"They're beautiful, thank you," Melanie said, knowing tears were just a heartbeat away. "And I love you, too. All of you."
As soon as Melanie's tears began to flow, Gloria produced an embroidered handkerchief and dabbed her cheeks. "Oh, goodness. Don't smear your mascara now. It's almost time."
The twin girls grinned at both women, then gasped when the music started. "Go on," their mother prodded, shooing them out the door. Gloria's older daughters followed the twins, starting their walk as bridesmaids.
Gloria picked up her bouquet. "I better get going so they can play your song."
When her song was played and the guests stood to receive her, Melanie accepted Shorty's arm and met Colt's smile with one of her own.
Colt nodded to Shorty, swept Melanie into a warm embrace and held her close. "I love you," he whispered.
"I love you, too," she responded, melting gloriously from his touch. Pure happiness spilled through her. For the rest of her life the sky would be bluer, the stars brighter, rain on her tongue fresher, the beat of her heart stronger. She would live each hour to the fullest and create beauty with the man she had never forgotten.
* * *
The groom spotted the bride's invitation from across the room and casually made his way over to her. He'd had no idea that he would have to spend most of his wedding reception mingling with the guests.
"Hi," he said, flashing her his most flirtatious smile. "My name's Colt."
She laughed and extended her hand. "Melanie."
He lifted her hand and brushed it with a gallant kiss. "Would you be interested in sleeping with me?"
She widened her eyes. "That's not what you're supposed to say to a girl you've just met."
"Oh, you're right." He cleared his throat and started over. "You are the most gorgeous creature I've ever seen. Do you want to paint my body, then make mad, passionate love?"
They hugged and laughed. "Everyone is here," she said. "Even Tiffany and JR."
"Yeah." Colt scanned the crowd for the eccentric California blonde. She had glided into the church wearing a silver jumpsuit, a white fringe jacket and the fanciest cowboy boots Colt had ever seen. "Can you believe she dressed that dog up for the occasion? Jeez, a bow tie and everything. I hope Sparky doesn't start asking for clothes. He likes JR. They've been playing together all evening."
Melanie leaned her head against her husband's shoulder. "Did you see the looks Shorty and Tiffany were exchanging?"
"No, but I can imagine. Talk about culture shock."
"Are you kidding? I think they're sweet on each other."
Colt grinned. "She's weird but she's good-looking. The old guy could do worse."
She nudged his ribs. "You're such a chauvinist."
"Yeah, aren't you glad you married me?" He looked around. "What do you say we slip out of here?"
"And go where?"
"Your former cabin."
She nibbled his ear. "You mean the honeymoon suite?"
"The very one."
They made their way to the back door and Colt scooped her into his arms, intending to carry his wife across the ranch and over the threshold. "Darlin'?"
"Hmm?"
"Would you rather go to the Chevy instead?"
She kicked off her shoes and kissed his teasing smile. "I'd go anywhere with you, cowboy. Absolutely anywhere."
* * *
Epilogue
« ^
Snow fell from the vast Montana sky the morning Andrew "Drew" Raintree was born. And now Colt stood, just hours later, cradling that new life in his arms. The infant, dressed in a pale blue sleeping gown and wrapped in a downy white blanket, drifted between wake and sleep, his eyes struggling to focus.
Colt glanced over at his wife and smiled. From the hospital bed, she watched him with a woman's adoration, but remained silent while he carried Drew toward the window. The view overlooked the small country town of Mountain Bluff, its simple buildings and quiet streets blanketed in snow. It was home, Colt thought, and the babe in his arms made it even more so. Meagan, too, had been born in Mountain Bluff, and it was there that she had been buried.
Colt's heart warmed as Drew made a soft cooing sound. He held the boy against his shoulder and inhaled the infant's sweet baby skin.
Meagan would have loved her brother. She would have marveled at each tiny finger and perfectly formed nail. She would have touched his soft rounded cheek and vowed to protect him forever. And she still would, he thought. Every night when baby Andrew dreamed, Meagan would be there, a loving guardian angel.
Colt stroked his son's head, and when Drew's hair tickled his fingers, he laughed. The boy looked so much like him with his bronze complexion and thatch of midnight hair, the child's familiar image stirred his pride.
Overwhelmed with joy, Colt turned back to his wife. Melanie had labored long and hard to give birth to his son, and he would be forever grateful. Although her hair fell about her shoulders in limp auburn strands and her eyes were dogged with pale shadows, he decided, at this very moment, Melanie Raintree was the most beautiful woman on earth.
She patted the empty space beside her. "I want to hold both of my men."
"Okay." He grinned at the thought and settled baby Drew into her waiting arms. After leaving his boots on the floor next to her slippers, Colt lowered himself to the bed, then snuggled beside her.
Drew curled his fingers around her gown and Melanie unbuttoned the front and brought his head to her breast. Immediately the boy rooted his tiny mouth upon the maternal offering. Melanie hummed a quiet lullaby and Colt closed his eyes and listened to the sound of family—a sound he would cherish forever.
* * * * *
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WARRIOR'S BABY Page 18
