Long-Lost Bride

by Day Leclaire

  “No fighting,” Shayne warned in a whisper that carried to all corners of the room.

  “We’ll behave.” Rafe shot Chaz a pointed look. “At least we’ll try.”

  Chaz shook his head. “One of us will try.”

  The other would beat the living hell out of an arrogant coffee farmer at the first wrong word. He cheered up as they left the room. With any luck at all, that word would come within minutes of them gaining some privacy. He worked hard on stoking his temper as they traversed the maze of corridors to Beaumont’s office.

  “It’s fascinating, the information one can acquire,” Rafe announced the moment they’d entered his office. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Chaz flexed his fist. That sounded remarkably like a wrong word to him, “Such as my ring size?”

  “Ring size, hat size, boot size.” Rafe indicated a thick folder centered on his desk as he moved out of reach. “It is all documented. Would you care to see the file?”

  Somehow, it seemed undignified to chase the man across the room in order to sock him. Chaz decided to hang tight a bit longer. The instant Beaumont came close again, he’d pop him one. In the meantime... “You had me investigated.” It wasn’t a question.

  “That’s pretty damn personal information you’ve got there. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear your PI slithered into bed with me.”

  Rafe regarded Chaz without amusement, his silvery eyes like splinters of ice. “Perhaps she did. I didn’t inquire as to her methods. I merely paid well for the results she provided.” He crossed to the liquor cabinet. “A drink before you go?”

  Chaz bared his teeth. Yeah, sure. Bring it on over. He might even take half a second to drink it down before knocking Beaumont’s teeth out. “Whiskey. And for the record, I didn’t sleep with your investigator.” Now why the hell had he said that? He didn’t owe the man an explanation. If anything, Beaumont owed him. And he’d be only too happy to collect.

  For the first time, Rafe’s expression eased. “I know. I also know precisely how many women you’ve been with since my sister. That information is the only reason you are now married to Shayne, my friend.”

  Fury seized hold, satisfyingly hot and just begging for expression. “You had no right!”

  To his intense annoyance, Rafe inclined his head in complete agreement before crossing to hide behind his desk. The coward! He set the two glasses on the mahogany surface and nudged one in Chaz’s direction. “So Ella has told me and on more than one occasion.”

  Aw, hell. Now why did he have to go and be friendly? “Glad we got that straight,” Chaz growled. “Can’t go nosing around in a man’s private business.”

  “I would feel precisely the same if our positions were reversed,” Rafe commented with disgusting affability. He opened the humidor on his desk and finding it empty, released his breath in a disappointed sigh. “It is just as well,” he said, snapping it closed. “My wife doesn’t approve and I would pay the consequences if she were to catch me.”

  Chaz grinned, despite himself. “It’s one vice I’ve managed to avoid. Probably the only one.”

  “Quite self-destructive,” Rafe conceded. “Ella calls it a nervous habit, a crutch. Ridiculous, of course. Still... I have the urge to indulge, particularly in moments of stress. So perhaps she is right, after all.”

  “I gather this is a moment of stress.”

  “Hell, yes. Don’t you think so?”

  They shared an instant of perfect accord, an accord bound to be destroyed the moment one of them chose to speak again. Chaz waded on in, only too happy to have them back on more familiar footing. “It didn’t have to be that way. If you’d just butted out—”

  “You don’t know the whole story, McIntyre. You don’t know the life Shayne has lived or you’d understand why I protect her so fiercely.”

  “That’s no longer your concern.”

  “That’s where you are wrong, my friend. Shayne will always be my concern. But I am willing to give her into your keeping. For now.”

  “Dammit, Beaumont. She’s a woman, not property. She’s not yours to give any more than she’s mine to take.”

  “But she is yours to protect.” The warning glitter had returned to silver-gray eyes. “See that you do so.”

  “More threats?”

  “Yes.”

  At least he didn’t bother with false denials. “I wouldn’t let anything hurt her.”

  “I believe you.” There was no doubting Rafe’s sincerity. “But I am more concerned about your hurting her than any outside force.”

  Chaz tossed back his whiskey and slammed the glass to the table. “I won’t hurt her,” he lied desperately.

  “Not on purpose, perhaps. Still... You have become a hard man, a ruthless man. Hard, ruthless men can crush tender young things beneath their boot heels without even realizing it.”

  “Not Shayne.”

  “Let us hope not.” Rafe fingered the folder on his desk. “There’s one other subject I wish to address before she joins us.”

  Dammit all! “What now?”

  “Relax, McIntyre. It’s simply an offer.”

  “Fine. Say what you need to and let’s end this farce.”

  “My investigator has turned up quite a lot of interesting information.”

  “And?”

  Rafe looked at him. “And if you ever need my help, you have only to ask.”

  Chaz released his breath in a harsh sigh. He could take insult at the suggestion. Hell, it would be easy. He could allow his pride and anger to drive him to offer the sort of physical response he’d been longing to since he’d first set eyes on Rafe Beaumont. Didn’t his hands ache to curl into fists and pummel something?

  Instead, he stood and leaned across the desk, offering the hand of friendship to his brother-in-law.

  “Thanks,” he said, and meant it. “I’ll do that.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  To My Long-Lost Bride,

  I dreamed of you last night. Three years have passed, and yet still, I dream of you. Your scent surrounded me, consumed me, made me believe for just one short instant that you lay beside me. I could hear your voice, shy and yet edged with a woman’s passion. I could see your eyes, as dark as the night sky, filled first with laughter and then with warmth and finally with a love I’ve never seen before... or since. Does it sound trite to say your skin was like satin? Your hair a silken waterfall that streamed over us like golden sunshine in a moonlit room?

  Have you any idea how you linger in my mind? How, until I hold you in my arms again I’ll never know peace? Have you any idea how many nights I’ve awoken, desperate for one last touch, one final word? Desperate for the completion no other woman can provide? You haunt me, my love. You steal my soul and make me long for the impossible. Whenever I look at a woman, all I see are the ways she doesn’t compare to you.

  I love you, sweet wife. My Forever Love. There will never be anyone but you.

  LATE afternoon sunshine slanted across the Colorado landscape and settled on a structure as hard and rough as the man beside her. “This is your home?” Shayne asked.

  “No,” Chaz corrected in a tone curiously void of expression. “This is my house. It’s your job to turn it into a home.”

  Shayne studied the sweeping lines of the huge ranch house with ill-concealed apprehension. Structurally, it needed work. The porch steps sagged and the roof had been patched more than once. The clapboard siding hadn’t seen fresh paint in years and the overflowing gutters looked like they provided hearth and home for any number of woodland creatures. The grounds surrounding the house weren’t any better. The patch of earth that might have been a garden long ago was unkempt and gasping beneath dead weeds and thatch. But that particular project could wait until spring.

  Assuming she was still here come spring.

  She touched her belly with a tentative hand. Had Chaz’s child taken root from their one explosive encounter? In a few short weeks she’d know. In the meantime, she could only hope. “Tell me
what you’d like done.”

  “Nothing out here. I’ll take care of that part. Your skills are needed inside.”

  Shayne eyed the warped front door. If the inside was as bad as the exterior, she was in deep, deep trouble. She took a steadying breath. She could do this. If she wanted to build a life with Chaz, she would damn well find a way to whip this slapped-together concoction of wood and nails and pasteboard into a home. “Show me.”

  He led the way, climbing the steps and forcing the door inward with his shoulder. Shayne followed. She hesitated on the threshold, then stepped boldly across—not held in her husband’s arms as a newlywed might expect, but trailing behind, about as welcome as a barefoot guest arriving at a black-tie-and-tails dinner party. Any bridelike feelings she might have harbored vanished with that single step.

  For the first time she wondered why creating a home was so important to Chaz. Why did he need a wife, when an interior decorator would have done just as well? She struggled to recall what he’d told her. Not much. And yet, it had seemed so important to him.

  Important enough to enter into a marriage he clearly didn’t want.

  A short, grizzled cowpoke appeared from the bowels of the house. “Boss, we got trouble and more trouble.”

  Chaz sighed. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” He inclined his head in her direction. “Shayne, this is my foreman, Penny. Penny, my wife.”

  The foreman ran a hand over his stubbled jaw, studying her with open curiosity. “Maybe she oughta take door number one.”

  “Door number...? Aw, hell. What’s behind door number one, old man? Or should I say... who?”

  “The Donna woman’s in your office. Gave her that room since I figured she wouldn’t do too much poking around behind your back. Can’t see her riffling through your desk on the sly, can you?”

  “Not really. And behind door number two?”

  “Mojo.”

  This time Chaz’s curse was a bit more virulent. “What’s his problem now?”

  Penny drew himself up to his full height, which wasn’t much. But what little he possessed was all attitude. “He heard you went and got yourself hitched.”

  “Heard it from you, no doubt, since you’re the only one I told.”

  “Be that as it may, he got hisself in a real snit over it. If you want I’ll get Jumbo to deal with him. Jes’ don’t ask the boys to go up against the Donna woman. She scares ’em spitless.”

  “But not you, right?”

  “Keep it up, boss man,” Penny warned. “Ride me a little harder and I’ll hightail it over to the Winston spread. That little Cami girl said I could have a job whenever I wanted.”

  “Working for their foreman?” Chaz folded his arms across his chest. “Now that I’d like to see. You and Gabby couldn’t agree on the color of the sky. Hell, you’d claim a cow was a bull, just to avoid being on the same side of an argument with him.”

  Shayne stifled a groan. No doubt these two could exchange insults until—Until the cows came home seemed an appropriate expression, given the circumstances. And if it avoided dealing with the individuals waiting for her husband’s attention, no doubt they’d still be standing here come Christmas. Time to take charge.

  “Chaz, if you’d go talk to Mojo, I’ll speak with Donna. Penny, do you think you could bring us some coffee while we wait?”

  The man took instant umbrage. “I’m no cook.”

  “I’m well aware of that. But I doubt there’s a foreman alive who doesn’t make a better cup of coffee than the resident cook.”

  Wicked amusement lit the old man’s expression. “Best not be sayin’ that anywhere around Mojo.”

  “The Mojo who’s in the kitchen in a snit?” she asked fatalistically.

  “The one and same.”

  “And he is...?”

  “The resident cook. Mojo, git it? More joe? Not meanin’ to point out your ignorance, but joe’s coffee, in case you was wondering.”

  Great. Just great. She hadn’t spent two minutes on the premises and already she’d insulted someone. “Would you mind terribly getting the coffee since I doubt Mojo will?”

  “Yes, ma‘am, I would mind.” Heaving a tremendous sigh, he relented. “But seein’ as how you’re new here and all, I’ll fetch some. Jes’ this once, though. Hear?”

  “Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.”

  Penny scowled. “Do something nice for a body and see how they repay you.” He stomped down the hallway. “Insult you, that’s what they do. Sweet. Hah!”

  “I don’t think this is a very good idea,” Chaz began.

  “You’ll join us as soon as you’ve spoken to Mojo, won’t you?”

  “Shayne—”

  She ran her hand along his arm. She’d been aiming for reassurance and came away with a sweep of desire so strong she trembled with it. How was that possible? The nine years they’d been parted should have lessened those feelings. Instead, she couldn’t look at him, couldn’t touch him, without wanting to find her way back into his arms...and into his heart.

  “You married me to act as your wife. At least, I think that’s one of the reasons. Let me do my job, Chaz. I can sit with Donna for a short time and share a cup of coffee without turning it into a disaster.”

  “Don’t count on it,” he muttered.

  “Either you trust me or you don’t.”

  “It’s not a matter of trust.” He thrust his hand into his hair, tumbling the nut-and-wheat-colored strands into attractive disorder. “First off, her name isn’t Donna. It’s Dofia Isabella. Dona Isabella Madalena Vega de la Cruz.”

  Interesting. “And second?”

  “And second... Aw, hell, Shayne:”

  “She’s one of your secrets, isn’t she?”

  Lines of tension bracketed his mouth, confirming her guess. “She’s part of one. I just don’t want her telling you something that should come from me. You don’t deserve that.”

  He was protecting her! The knowledge ignited a tiny spark of hope, hope that she’d nurture with every bit of determination she possessed. “Then I’ll make sure she doesn’t tell me. Will that do?”

  “I guess it’ll have to.”

  “Where’s your office?”

  He gestured toward a door off to her left. “Through there. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

  She smiled. “It’ll work out, Chaz.”

  “Not likely.” He cupped the nape of her neck and drew her close. His mouth slipped across hers in a brief kiss. An instant later he returned for another, this one harder, edged with unchecked passion, a plea and a promise and a demand all wrapped up in one. “I have an idea.”

  For some reason her eyelids refused to lift. “What’s that?”

  “Why don’t we let our unwelcome visitors sit and stew awhile. We can sneak upstairs and catch up on nine years of waiting. With any luck, they’ll be gone by the time we return.”

  Her eyes flickered open at that. “Am I the lesser of two evils?”

  “No. You’re the escape from two evils.” His mouth scalded a path along her jawline, found her ear and unhinged her with the warmth of his breath. “You’re an oasis, water in the middle of an endless desert, life in a barren jumble of rock and dust.”

  She knew this man—he wasn’t the Chaz she’d married, but the one she’d fallen in love with once upon a time. She silently rejoiced at his return, relieved beyond measure to discover that he hadn’t totally disappeared. With a little effort, perhaps she could coax him from the hard, cold shell in which he’d encased himself. Maybe. If she were very, very careful. “I wish we could go upstairs and hide there. forever,” she confessed with devastating honesty. “Just the two of us.”

  “We can.” He urged her closer into a sweet tangle of arms and legs. “Put on your mask, wife, and we’ll pretend we’re two strangers with no past and no future to torment us. Just the pleasure of the moment, for as long as that moment lasts.”

  Pain returned, swift and sure. “And when it ends?”

&nbs
p; “We’ll deal with that. But, later. Much later.”

  “I wish...”

  “Wish what?”

  She fixed her gaze on him, wondering if he sensed all she found so difficult to express. “I wish last night meant more to you than a quick tumble in bed. I wish today could, too.”

  She’d said the wrong thing. His expression closed over and he pulled back, a wintry breeze washing away the heat of passion. Any cracks in his shell had been swiftly repaired. The abrupt change brought tears to her eyes, tears she hid beneath a protective sweep of lashes.

  “I warned you before we married.”

  “I know.”

  “Don’t ask for more than I can give.”

  Her mouth tilted to one side, tender amusement easing the pain. “Sorry to disappoint you. But I’m going to keep asking.”

  “Then brace yourself, sweetheart. Because I’m gonna keep refusing.”

  “That’s up to you.” She gathered what remained of her self-control. “Why don’t we take care of business? I suspect it will make our time together all the more special when we do finally indulge.”

  He snagged the front of her blouse and tugged her close again, branding her with a final kiss. “Count on it. And count on the fact that I intend to indulge at our earliest convenience.”

  A ferocious hunger had sparked deep in his eyes, like that of a starving animal, stumbling across an unexpected cache of food. Understanding dawned. A starving animal would fall on the food with a voracious appetite that demanded instant gratification, knowing it could be taken from him at any minute. “You think that what we feel for each other is going to vanish, don’t you?”

  “There’s not a doubt in my mind,” he confirmed. “One day we’ll wake up and all we’ll have between us is hot desert and hard rock.”

  “If that day ever arrives, you won’t have to ask me to leave. I’ll go of my own accord.”

  He inclined his head in agreement, but something held her in place. Something that urged her to take him in her arms and swear her undying love. To promise that the love she felt would survive anything. That now that they’d found each other, nothing would ever part them again. But caution rode her every bit as hard as it did him. She stepped away, finding it more difficult than she thought possible.