His Chosen Bride

by Marcia Evanick

  Gillian had no idea what he was seeing, but she knew who was responsible for his bizarre behavior. The sky turned black as night and lightning streaked down as thunder rolled. The heavens seemed to be opening up and displaying their displeasure at the man standing in front of her.

  The wind howled and Lenny finally let out a bloodcurdling scream that had been lodged in his throat as he glanced wildly around.

  Gillian looked to her left and spotted Mason standing in the middle of the storm that surrounded them. He looked magnificent in his fury. His black hair was windtossed and his eyes burned like two pieces of coal. Lightning struck the ground on either side of him, starting small fires. Mason had lost his control!

  She grinned as paper and garbage danced upon the wind and the heavens poured down. Not one hair on her head moved, not one drop of rain landed on her. It was an awesome display of Mason’s rage. The elements had one target and one target only, and that was Lenny.

  Lenny stepped closer to the car and screamed again. It was the sound of a man about to lose what was left of his sanity. He was still staring in horror at things she could only guess at. He didn’t seem to realize where he was, or that she was even there. Lenny was gaping at the demons only he could see and pleading for mercy or death—whichever was quicker.

  Gillian watched as Mason hurried to her and swept her up into his arms.

  His eyes bored into her face. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No, he never touched me.” She raised her hand and gently caressed his rigid jaw. “I was looking at the gun and I didn’t see his hand come up. When I caught sight of it, I lost my balance and fell.”

  He hugged her closer and she gloried in the strength of his arms around her. She and their child were safe now. Nothing would harm them. Mason seemed to be having difficulty breathing, which was amusing considering it was her chest being squeezed by his arms.

  Another one of Lenny’s screams split the air. He might deserve everything Mason was doing to him, but it still didn’t make it right. “Mason, darling, could you tone it down a bit?” She nodded in the direction of Lenny and the lightning bolt that struck a couple of yards away.

  Mason glanced over his shoulder at the terror-stricken man. “Well, since you called me darling, I guess.” With a sweep of his hand he sent Lenny flying backward, straight into the trunk. His arm swept downward and the trunk lid slammed shut. One more wave of his arm and the heavenly display ceased and the sun was again shining back down on them. The dump looked exactly as it had before Mason’s display. No puddles were on the ground. No burnt garbage where the lightning had struck and the fire had raged.

  Gillian had felt the shield he had erected around her disappear. There was nothing between her and Mason but the clothes on their backs. The danger had passed, and they had their future to look forward to. A future that held a child she still wasn’t one hundred percent sure Mason wanted.

  Lenny’s screams were muffled by the trunk. She cocked one eyebrow. “Mason?”

  “It’s not me, honest. Whatever he’s seeing, he’s doing it without my help.” The corner of his mouth tilted up. “It serves him right, after what he put me through.”

  “Ah, the nightmares.” She had thought it coincidence that Mason started to dream, and to dream nightmares, the same night he found out about the threats.

  “Yes, the nightmares.” A slight shudder swept.through his body at the memory of his dreams. He hugged her closer.

  Gillian brushed a kiss on his jaw and tilted her head. The distant sound of sirens was getting closer. “You called the police?”

  “I talked to Jon on my way here. I told him where we’d be and why.” Mason started to walk away from the car, where Lenny was still screaming. “Jon seemed anxious to join us.”

  She snuggled deeper into his arms. “I would imagine.”

  They arrived at Mason’s car the same time Jon and two other police cars came barreling into the dump. Mason gently deposited her in the passenger seat with a quick kiss before talking to Jon and the other officers.

  Six hours later Mason tucked Gillian’s robe more tightly around her legs and asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?” They had just spent three grueling hours at police headquarters answering questions, filing complaints and giving statements. Lenny Perate had been in no condition to answer the police’s questions. He was currently sedated, restrained and under guard at a mental ward at one of the city’s hospital. After leaving the police station, Mason had insisted they stop to see a doctor, who pronounced Gillian in perfect health and showing no signs of her recent ordeal.

  When he thought of how close he had come to losing her, it made his heart fluctuate, and a haze of red distorted his vision. He should have strangled Perate with his bare hands.

  Over the past couple of weeks he had learned firsthand how ineffective his once-precious law could be. He had felt the pain and frustration of being a helpless victim, waiting, with his hands tied, for the culprit to strike again. He didn’t like that feeling one bit. He now had plans to work with the law to strengthen Pennsylvania’s stalking laws. He also understood the fear he and every other victim had to live with. One day Perate might be a free man again.

  He had thought, when he picked law as his career, that he would have the control he so desperately wanted to obtain. What higher control was there than the law? It had been a foolish and youthful visualization of the world. In this crazy world, control was fleeting at best. But he liked being a judge and had plans to continue on his chosen career path. Maybe he had been wrong thinking his gift had been control. Maybe his gift was justice. It was an interesting thought, one he would have to give some serious time to later. But now he needed to make sure Gillian was all right.

  He couldn’t bring himself to rant or rave at her for disobeying his orders about not going out of the house. He was just too damn thankful she was safe. If the situation had been reversed, he knew he would have gone out. No psycho would have kept him prisoner in his own home.

  Gillian glanced up at her husband and placed her empty coffee cup on the end table. “I told you, Mason, I’m fine. The doctor said I was fine. The police said I was fine. Even—” she gave a heavy sigh before shaking her head “—the baffled paramedics that you summoned to the dump said I was fine.”

  “You should have gone with them to the hospital to be checked out, like I asked. You could have had a miscarriage or something.”

  Gillian gave him a strange look before settling back into the leather couch. “I gather you saw the pregnancy test in my office.”

  She looked all warm and comfortable relaxing on what he knew to be her favorite spot in the house—the burgundy leather sofa in the family room. The family room—it had a nice ring to it. They were indeed family now.

  Fred was contentedly lying next to the dragon statue, chewing on one of Mason’s old sneakers by the French doors. After they arrived home and polished off the meal Birdie had been preparing all day, Gillian had taken a shower and changed into her robe. Birdie had discreetly disappeared, once she was assured of Gillian’s health and safety, to her apartment above the garage. They were now alone and he had.a lot he wanted to talk about.

  He sat down next to her and reached for her hand. “Yes, I saw the test.”

  “And the results?”

  “And the results.” He gave her a small smile. “On the way into work this morning I made a stop at someplace I should have gone years ago.”

  “Where?” Her brows pulled together into a frown.

  “I stopped at the cemetery where my father was buried.” He glanced out the doors and into the fading light of the evening. “I needed to put my past behind me before I could face the future with you.”

  “And did you?” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Did you put it behind you?”

  “Clint Blacksword was a terrible father and husband.” Mason turned and faced Gillian. “I’m nothing like him.”

  She gave him a tender smile. “I know that.”

&nbs
p; “He said I was going to be just like him.”

  Gillian heard the pain and turmoil in Mason’s voice and gripped his hand harder. “When did he say that?” As far as she knew, Clint Blacksword died when Mason was around twelve years old.

  “Before he left us. He said I was going to marry a woman the Council picked and that I wouldn’t love her or our children. He said I would be stuck in the same hell he was, producing snotty-nosed brats for the society.”

  Gillian cringed but kept her gaze locked on Mason. He seemed to be baring his soul for her to see. This was what she had been waiting for. “The Council picked your wife and you thought your father’s words were coming true.” She wished she had known about his fears sooner. They explained a lot about Mason and his resistance to their marriage. They also explained his reaction to her pregnancy.

  “When I was sixteen, yes.”

  “And now?” She held her breath and waited for his answer. Their future rested with his answer.

  It took him a while before he replied. “Can I have it back?” he asked softly.

  She blinked in surprise. “Have what back?”

  “Your heart.” He pulled her closer. “This time I promise to take better care of it, Gillian.” He tenderly cupped her chin and raised her face to his. His lips were as gentle as a summer’s breeze as they brushed across hers.

  “It has to be an even exchange, Mason. I want yours in return.” She couldn’t give her heart again without knowing how he felt.

  “Don’t you know, you already have it, wife. You stole it when I wasn’t even looking.”

  “I don’t want a stolen heart, Mason.”

  “It was freely given. I love you, Gillian.” His sweet kiss showed her how freely it had been given.

  Gillian felt herself start to drown in the kiss and in his words. Mason loved her! She slowly backed away and worried her lower lip. “What about our child?”

  Mason’s hand reached out and gently cupped the flat contour of her stomach. “I lied to you the other morning. I do want this baby and every other baby we might create.”

  She could feel the trembling in his fingers through the silk of her robe. “Did you tell me you didn’t because of what your father said?”

  “Partly.” He lowered his hand. “I was having a hard time adjusting to how much I enjoyed being married to you. I had visions of taking our vows and then living in pure hell for the rest of my life. I was wrong.”

  Gillian let out a sigh of relief. “I know marriage is a big adjustment for us both, especially considering our beginning, but it hasn’t been too bad. Has it?”

  “No, it wasn’t bad at all. I was just getting accustomed to Fred and Birdie and to the fact my wife had a psychopath tormenting her, when out of the blue you start tossing your cookies and tell me we’re pregnant.” He gave her a soft smile. “Let’s just say I choked and came up with the wrong answer for all the wrong reasons.”

  Gillian glanced at the tenderness shining in his eyes. “You’re going to be a wonderful daddy.” She now understood Mason’s reluctance. It wasn’t that he didn’t want kids, he was scared of turning out like his own father.

  “How do you know?”

  “I know you, Mason. You’re not going to change just because a baby arrives on the scene.” She reached up and kissed his cheek. The silly, wonderful man was scared of a little helpless baby. “You’re going to be the perfect father—a little controlling, I’m sure, but don’t worry, I’m handling that.”

  “And you’ll probably spoil the kid rotten.” He hauled her closer and kissed her deeply. “But don’t worry, I’m handling that.” He kissed her again and they slowly sank into the depths of the couch.

  When they both caught their breath, he asked, “You’re not afraid I’ll turn out like Clint Blacksword?”

  “Mason…” She shook her head. She never realized how vulnerable her husband was when it came to his past. It just proved the damage some parents did to their kids. “You might have inherited Clint Blacksword’s dark eyes and hair, and even his height.” She tapped him on his chest. “But you didn’t inherit his heart or soul.”

  “How can you be sure?” He stood and picked her up into his arms.

  “I’ve seen your heart, darling.” She snuggled into his embrace and felt the heat of his hands through the silk. Desire pulsed through her body. Mason loved her and their child. The tip of her finger outlined a big heart against his chest. “There’s enough room in it for me and a dozen little babies.”

  He started to carry her from the room. “A dozen?” Mason sputtered as he came to a complete stop.

  “Okay, we’ll compromise. Half a dozen.” She gave him a seductive smile. Her fingers toyed with the ends of his hair brushing the back of his neck. She knew he liked it when she played with his hair.

  “Six kids! Are you crazy?”

  “Yes.” She reached up and finished wrapping her arms around his neck. “Crazy about you, that is.”

  Epilogue

  Gillian sat down in the lounge chair between Mason’s legs and sighed with pleasure as his strong fingers rubbed suntan lotion onto her back. Nearly five years of marriage and Mason’s hands never ceased to excite her. She gazed to her right, where their two-year-old daughter, Sonya, lay asleep under an umbrella. Playing the morning away on the beach had tired Sonya out.

  Mason followed his wife’s glance. “She looks just like you when you sleep.” His mouth brushed her shoulder.

  “I sleep with my butt up in the air?”

  “I wish,” Mason said, chuckling. “I was referring to the peaceful expression on her face. Like she doesn’t have a care in the world.”

  Gillian looked at her daughter and smiled. Love filled her heart whenever she looked at her children. Sonya had her light blond hair and pale blue eyes. Tyler, their four-year-old son, had Mason’s coloring. “Why shouldn’t I sleep like that? I don’t have a care in the world.”

  His hands encircled her waist and came to rest on her stomach. “How are you feeling? The sun isn’t too much, is it?”

  “I’m fine, Mason. Stop worrying about every little thing.” She covered his hands with hers and grinned. “Me and the baby are fine.” Her pregnancies were harder on Mason than on her. She was carrying their third child, but the only outward signs so far were her morning visits to the bathroom. Mason had insisted they take a family vacation now, while it was still safe enough for her to travel. They had chosen Maui, the same island they had had a belated honeymoon on nearly five years ago.

  Back then they had rented a private villa on a private beach and hadn’t seen a soul except for a maid who straightened the house in the morning and left enough food for the day. The first night under the Hawaiian skies, Mason had made love to her on the beach. She still remembered that it was the first thing she had wanted to do as soon as the psycho who had been threatening her was caught. Mason spent the next six months making sure every one of her wishes came true.

  This vacation they had chosen a family resort and a bungalow large enough to handle the two children and Birdie. Today, Birdie had the day to herself, but tonight she was going to watch the kids so she and Mason had some private time. By the gleam in Mason’s eye this morning, when he told her of the arrangement, she had a feeling they were going to find a secluded beach somewhere and once again she was going to end up with sand in some most unusual places.

  Their marriage was wonderful, and she wouldn’t have traded the last five years for anything. Of course it hadn’t been all fun and games. They both still had a lot of adjusting to do. She worked at home now, sitting behind a computer hunting down deadbeat dads on the Internet. She also pestered the Council and the society to help set up a support clinic in The Blades for abused and neglected mothers and their children. Mason had been promoted to appellate judge two years ago, and there was talk about him being appointed to the federal court before much longer. They still butted heads when he got too controlling or when she brought home a stray.

  She glanc
ed at Tyler sitting by the water’s edge building a sand castle and sucked in a quick breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Mason glanced at her face with concern. “Is it the baby?”

  “The baby’s fine.” She brushed his brow, where worry wrinkles had formed. “Do you remember I used to tell you about a dream I sometimes have?”

  “The one about the boy at the beach building sand castles?”

  “That’s the one.” She nodded at Tyler and his assortment of buckets and shovels. “I know you’re going to think this is crazy, but that’s my dream.”

  “Tyler’s the boy from your dream?”

  “Identical, right on down to his bathing suit and the red bucket in his hand. I don’t know why I never realized it before. He’s been to the New Jersey shore a dozen times or so.”

  Mason glanced around at the swaying palms that were mere yards away from the water. “When you told me about the dream you always mentioned the palm trees and the scent of flowers. New Jersey doesn’t have palm trees or the flowers.”

  Gillian leaned back into her husband’s embrace. “Since when did you become an expert on dreams?”

  His lips nuzzled her neck but his gaze stayed on his son. “Since the day I married you.” His teeth playfully nipped at the delicate lobe of her ear. “Since the day I married you.”

  * * * * *

  eISBN 978-14592-7942-1

  HIS CHOSEN BRIDE

  Copyright © 1996 by Marcia Evanick

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.