Long-Lost Bride

by Day Leclaire

  He kicked the door closed, returning her to the protective embrace of the darkness. And then he fought to breath, to force air into badly depleted lungs. Desire clawed at him, demanding that he toss the tray aside and take the woman on his bed, to brand her with his possession.

  “Chaz?”

  Her voice slipped through the darkness, ripe with apprehension, and he knew that he couldn’t do anything that would hurt her. He’d caused her enough pain. Fighting as he never had before, he slowly regained his self-control. Memory guided his footsteps to the end of the bed and he set the tray on the mattress.

  “You didn’t eat your dinner, so I had Jumbo leave this.”

  “You didn’t eat, either.”

  He snapped on the bedside lamp. Shayne had retreated beneath the covers, the blankets pulled to her chin. He’d suspected that she’d been crying earlier and one look at her face confirmed it. Her lashes formed damp spikes and he could make out the faint track of dried tears on her cheeks. Helpless rage swept through him—anger at himself for provoking her tears and anger at her for opening herself up to hurt. If she’d just realize that love wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, if she’d just deaden her emotions, life would be a hell of a lot simpler. They could take pleasure in each other’s company without all the angst.

  And without the guilt.

  He recovered the tray and settled next to her. Mojo had put together a huge romaine salad liberally sprinkled with mesquite chicken, sweet red peppers and croutons. Chaz speared a sliver of chicken and fed it to his wife. She took it without protest, which was either a testament to her exhaustion or to her hunger. Whichever, he wasn’t about to complain.

  He waited until she’d eaten a decent-size portion of the salad and the crispy rolls before speaking. “Here’s the deal, sweetheart.... I’ll do anything to get my hands on my daughter. Unfortunately, Dona Isabella holds all the cards. If she decides to hightail it out of the country with Sarita, there’s not much I can do about it At least, not without a lengthy legal battle. I’d rather avoid that, if at all possible.”

  “And I’m the means by which you’ll get Sarita.” Her dark eyes were trained on him, filled with some unnamed and unwanted emotion. “That’s why you married me, to gain custody of your daughter?”

  He steeled himself to say the unforgivable. “That’s about the size of it.”

  Her lashes swept downward, concealing the warmth of her gaze and shutting away feelings that shouldn’t matter. So, why did her cool reserve annoy the hell out of him? Why was he tempted to catch her chin in his palm and force those beautiful brown eyes to look at him, to see if he could coax free the expression that had glittered there when they’d made love? He forced himself not to touch her, knowing he’d be unable to restrain himself if he were foolish enough to put his hands on her.

  As though sensing his thoughts, Shayne wrestled the blanket closer to her chin. “You expect me to guess what the Doña wants and give it to her?”

  “Yes. Though as to what that might be...” Desperate for something to do, he picked up the tray and dropped it onto the chair by the bed. “I gotta tell you, your guess is about as good as mine. Better, I’m willing to bet.”

  “Then you’re giving me a free hand?”

  Uh-oh. “Looks like I don’t have a choice.”

  “And what happens once you have Sarita?”

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “What happens to you?”

  “Yes.” She curled up against the pillow in a protective ball, small and vulnerable beneath the protective prickles of antagonism. “If I’m not pregnant and once you have custody of Sarita, what happens to me?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  To My Long-Lost Bride,

  I’ve made a decision. It’s a foolish one, I don’t doubt that for a minute, but one I can’t seem to resist.

  Another Cinderella Ball is coming up and I’ve decided to attend one last time. I had a friend apply, so Ella wouldn’t see my name on the guest list and warn your brother. But count on it. I’ll be there.

  I don’t know. Maybe it’s so I can say goodbye. Or maybe I’m just kidding myself and I’m hoping to find you again. Part of me expects to find you there. Strange, isn’t it? After all these years?

  I guess I need to know for sure. I need to be able to put you behind me once and for all and make a new start. I keep telling myself that even if you are there, we’re not the same people we once were. There’s a good chance that we’ll take one look and run the other way.

  But I have to know. I have to be certain that going forward in life without you at my side is the right thing to do. If you’re there, we’ll have another shot at it Won’t we, my Forever Love? And we’ll take It

  If you’re not there... I guess I’ll have my answer, won’t I?

  Wait for me, wife. I’m coming.

  PREGNANT. Ripening with his child. The image was so strong, Chaz shook with it. “Why don’t we wait and see?”

  “No. I’d like an answer now.” He could tell Shayne wasn’t going to let go of this one until he responded. He’d never met a woman so determined to get herself hurt. “If I’m not pregnant, what happens to our marriage?” she repeated.

  “Hell, sweetheart. I’m not going to throw you out.”

  “But you won’t need me. You won’t want me. Is that it?”

  She had him good and cornered. “You’re asking for answers I don’t have.” Naturally, he’d said the wrong thing. He’d managed to wound her again. Damn. He did some fast backpedaling. “If you’re pregnant,” he persisted doggedly, “then, of course, you stay.”

  It was still the wrong thing. “But only if I’m pregnant.” Her mouth quivered, begging for a kiss he knew she’d reject. “If I’m not, the marriage ends.”

  “I didn’t say that!” He closed his eyes, wishing he were one of those silver-tongued charmers who could spill lies as fast as a wild bronco spilled riders. “Honey, I’m so tired, I don’t know what I’m saying. It’s been at least two days since I got any shut-eye, and you have to agree, today’s been a bit of a trial.”

  His efforts to soothe must have lacked something. She rolled onto her side, confronting him with her back. “I think I’ll go to sleep now. Maybe you should, too.”

  “Good idea.” He stood and stripped off his clothes before joining her. He started to slip an arm beneath her shoulders, but she stopped him.

  “We don’t have to touch, do we? I don’t think I can—” Her voice broke, tearing him apart. “I think we’d sleep better if we didn’t touch.”

  She was hurting, he reminded himself. And she was exhausted. The last two days hadn’t been any easier on her than they’d been on him. “No. We don’t have to touch,” he assured gently.

  “Okay. Good.”

  But it wasn’t okay. He lay beside her and waited, waited until her hiccuped breath grew slow and steady and the tension fled her muscles. And then he rolled her over, easing her into his arms. Her hand slipped across his chest, settling close to his heart, and her head nestled into the crook of his shoulder. She curled up against him as though she’d done it a thousand times before, one leg thrown over the top of his, the soft probing of her knee giving him fits. He gritted his teeth, determined to endure.

  But the final victory, the one that gave him peace enough to rest, came with the sleepy kiss she pressed against his jaw and the murmured words he shouldn’t want to hear. Only then did he allow sleep to claim him.

  Shayne awoke gradually, with the disconcerting realization that something wasn’t quite right. She’d been warm and comfortable and lost in the most delicious of dreams—one she seemed to have been chasing for a lifetime. But it had vanished with the coming of morning...along with her heat source.

  The clanging of a loud, brassy bell trembled through the room and Shayne pried her eyelids open. Chaz stood at the end of the mattress by the bedpost. As she watched, he slapped his Stetson on top of his head and aimed his penetrating blue gaze in her direction.

  “
Mornin’,” he greeted warily.

  He continued to stand there, rocking back on his heels as if he had all the time in the world. Apparently, he was waiting for her to respond. Considering the downhill slide their last conversation had taken, she wasn’t too eager to start another. Still... She should try. “Did I hear a bell?”

  “Just Mojo letting us know breakfast is ready.” He hesitated, as though he had something more on his mind, but lacked the proper words to address it. “I’m sorry about last night,” he said at last “It wasn’t quite the wedding night I’d planned for us. I’ll—I’ll try and do better.”

  “Better?” she managed.

  “Yeah. Better.” The muscles along his jaw knotted. “Less...less hurtful.”

  All that escaped her throat was a tiny squeak of disbelief. She must have looked a sight, her hair in a wild tangle, his T-shirt drooping off one shoulder, her eyes bulging, her mouth hanging open. He apparently took her mouse imitation as agreement, because he gave a nod of satisfaction and left the room. Less hurtful? What did that mean?

  She remained in bed for a full five minutes mulling over his words, until it suddenly dawned on her that she’d been sleeping dab-smack in the center of the mattress. A slight depression remained where Chaz’s body had been—a depression that she overlapped by a good foot. No question. At some point in the night, she’d slipped over to his side of the bed and turned him into a surrogate pillow and bed warmer. What she’d denied while awake, she’d revealed in her sleep.

  Less hurtful. The words trailed her into the shower and around the room as she pulled clothes from the suitcase that had been dropped off at some point in the wee hours of the morning. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. It meant Chaz was willing to try. A spark of hope sprang to life, a warm, determined glow lighting a path toward the future. Maybe, just maybe, their marriage had a chance.

  Shayne found Chaz sitting in the dining room, nursing a cup of coffee. A second cup was steaming at the place setting next to his. She slid into the chair and buried her nose in the mug.

  “So what are your plans for today?” he asked.

  “I thought I’d figure out how to change this place into a home.”

  “Any ideas?”

  Her nose dug deeper into the mug. “None.”

  “Don’t panic. I’m sure something will come to you.” He waited until she’d taken another couple sips of coffee before suggesting, “How about taking a day to familiarize yourself with the place? See if anything strikes your fancy. You might want to take a look at the bedrooms and choose one for Sarita.”

  He’d made an excellent suggestion. “How many employees can you spare to lend a hand once I’m ready to start?”

  “You can have Jumbo. He turns his hand to most anything that needs doing around here. I’m down to the bare minimum of help, right now. But we can hire in town. There’s always people looking for extra jobs before the holidays. Tell Jumbo what you want and he’ll take care of it.”

  As though Chaz’s comment had summoned him, Jumbo appeared in the doorway, two steaming plates in hand. “Mornin’,” he said, greeting them with a wariness that made her smile.

  They hadn’t gotten off to the best start yesterday. Perhaps she could help them do a little better today. “Boy, I’m hungry,” she announced.

  Jumbo positively beamed. “Well, then, little lady. I have the perfect start for your day.” He slapped a heaping platter in front of her. Beside her, Chaz snorted. “I have more if this isn’t enough.”

  Her smile weakened. “Thanks. I think this will be plenty.”

  “Don’t tease me now. This little ol’ helpin’ would hardly satisfy a gnat.”

  “No, really. It’s plenty.”

  He clicked his tongue. “Mojo’s gonna come out here, for sure,” he warned sorrowfully. “Hope you weren’t too partial to your wife, boss man.”

  “She’s mine. I’m keeping her. And if Mojo wants to have words with me about it, I’ll be happy to oblige.”

  Chaz’s spirited defense perked her right up. Dropping her napkin into her lap, she won a grin from Jumbo by seizing her fork and tackling the mountain of scrambled eggs. It wasn’t until she’d made a dent in one corner that she gave Chaz her attention again.

  “I have my first request,” she informed her husband.

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “I want a dog. A big, hungry wolf of a dog.”

  His mouth eased into a broad smile. “And where would you like him, wife?”

  “Right under my chair,” she replied, returning his grin.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Twenty minutes later, she shoved her plate away and groaned. “I can’t eat another bite.”

  “But you’re only halfway through. Mojo—”

  “Mojo! And more Mojo. This is getting ridiculous.” Tossing her napkin onto the table, she stood and started for the kitchen.

  Chaz came after her. “Honey, this may not be a good idea.”

  “I think it’s an excellent idea.” She shoved open the door to the kitchen. Jumbo sat on a bar stool that fronted a huge, long counter. Standing at the sink, his back to her, was the giant of a man she recognized as the infamous Mojo. He made Jumbo look like a shrimp. “Hello,” she said brightly.

  Mojo’s spine grew rigid. Apparently, with one simple word, she’d managed to say the exact wrong thing. “That the missus?” he asked his brother.

  “Yeah. That’s her.”

  “What does she want?”

  “I don’t know.” Jumbo eyed Shayne. “What can we do for you, missy?”

  “I though Mojo and I should become better acquainted.”

  “Mojo doesn’t get acquainted.”

  Shayne folded her arms across her chest. “He does now.”

  Ever so carefully, Mojo set the frying pan he’d been cleaning on the draining board and wiped his hands on his apron. He turned, revealing a face slashed into pieces and just barely stitched back together again.

  She didn’t flinch as she suspected every other person confronted with Mojo’s disfigurement did. Instead, she openly studied the vivid red scars. Then she crossed to his side. Ignoring the way he stiffened at her approach, she stood on tiptoe and pushed aside the thick black hair covering his brow, exposing a particularly nasty cut shaped like a lightning bolt. It split his brow in two before racing toward the corner of his eye.

  “Boy, were you lucky,” she commented. “A fraction of an inch lower and you could have done a great pirate imitation. Black patch, snarl and all. What happened? Car accident?”

  “Let’s just say my horse doesn’t have a windshield anymore.”

  Shayne choked. “Horse?”

  Jumbo chuckled. “It’s a joke. Me and Mojo don’t ride.”

  “Maybe because there isn’t a horse born willing to carry you,” Chaz offered from the sidelines.

  Mojo scowled. “We get by with our Jeep.”

  Shayne managed to figure out the punch line on her own. “I assume you named your Jeep Horse?”

  Jumbo looked impressed. “You got it. One day Horse decided to toss ol’ Mojo on his face by running itself off a mountainside and into a big ol’ spruce.”

  “That sounds familiar.”

  Shayne moved to the nearest countertop and lifted herself onto it. She peeked at her husband from beneath her lashes, wondering how he’d handle this next part. Well, he’d have found out sooner or later. Better sooner. Better still, she could show him her secret someplace where they weren’t alone and he’d be forced to control his reactions. She unbuttoned the left sleeve of her blouse. While the men watched curiously, she rolled it up, exposing a faint, jagged scar of her own.

  “It goes right up to my armpit,” she announced. “I’m lucky I can still lift my arm. I still get odd tingles when the weather changes.”

  Chaz inhaled sharply and Shayne glanced his way, nerves strung taut. He looked gut-punched.

  Mojo whistled. “Nice.”

  “That’s nothing.�
�� She yanked the blouse from her the waistband of her jeans and revealed a network of silvery lines along her ribs. She managed a flippant grin. “I’ve got them all over this side of my body. I’d show you some more except my husband might object.”

  “What the hell happened?” Chaz demanded.

  “Car accident. Same as Mojo.”

  “How? When?”

  “A while ago, by the looks of them.” Mojo came close enough to whistle over a few of the more im pressive ones. “How long were you laid up?”

  The question enabled her to evade her husband’s shocked questions. “A couple months. Not including the cosmetic surgeries to get-rid of some of the worst ones.”

  “Hah. Got you beat. Six months,” Mojo boasted. “The first week I flat-lined three times. The doctors didn’t think I had a chance.”

  “Yeah? Well, I lost half my blood volume.”

  “No!”

  She grinned. “Okay. Maybe not half. But it was a lot. If my brother hadn’t gotten to me so quickly, I’d have been a goner for sure.”

  Chaz’s mouth had acquired an odd, white-lipped appearance. “Rafe was there?”

  She chose her words with care. “He was following me at the time.”

  “Where?”

  “Costa Rica. Those mountain roads can be really hazardous.”

  “Then we’ll make sure you stay off the ones around here.”

  Relief vied with annoyance. “That’ll be a little tough to do living in the shadow of the Rockies.”

  “You’ll stay off them,” he repeated in a voice he no doubt hoped would end the subject.

  She simply shrugged and returned her attention to Mojo. “About the kitchen...”

  The cook scowled. “What about it?”