by Linda Ladd
"I love you, Stone Kincaid."
Pleased to hear her whisper the words, Stone clasped her hand and tugged her toward him, wanting her in his arms, wanting to make love to her again. When she resisted, his eyebrows curled downward into a frown. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
"I am with child."
Stone's muscles went stiff. Even though he had known there was always the possibility that she might become pregnant, he hadn't wanted to think about it. A worm of dread slithered nervously along his stomach. Her sapphire eyes held him in unblinking scrutiny—serious, searching, waiting patiently to measure his answer. He had to be careful, he thought, had to choose just the right words so as not to hurt her. Her emotions were so mixed up, he couldn't risk saying the wrong thing. He pushed himself upright, threading his fingers through his hair as he decided what to say. He took her hand and pressed her palm against his cheek.
"I suspected you might be."
"Why have you not asked me about it?"
"I didn't ask you because I didn't want to upset you."
"Are you upset?"
Stone paused once more, not sure what she wanted him to say. "I want our baby," he murmured, his gaze locked with hers, "and even more than that, I want you to be my wife."
"And if it is not our baby? Then will you want me for your wife?"
"It is our baby, Windsor. Mine and yours. I don't want you to think anything else. Promise me you won't."
Windsor's gaze slid away from his face. "It could be his," she muttered huskily, staring at her lap. "We cannot know otherwise until the child is born."
The lean muscle beneath Stone's tanned cheek jumped as he gritted his teeth. "No. It's mine. Do you understand me, Windsor? The baby's mine."
Tears welled, glittering blue in Windsor's eyes. Her face tormented, she carefully framed both her hands around his hard-tensed jaw. Her words were uttered gently, but honestly. "Since the first moment I saw you, my beloved Stone Kincaid, your eyes have burned with hatred for the Evil One. Your heart was filled with thirst for vengeance then, and you are even more obsessed with the desire to kill Emerson Clan now. If my child is born with hair like snow and eyes like ice, I will be able to love him because he will have formed within my womb. But can you look upon the face you suffer within your nightmares and still love him? Can you call him son and forget his father's sins against you?"
For a fraction of a moment, time stood still between them. Stone remained silent, struck by her wisdom, not sure how he could answer. Another tear escaped to wet Windsor's face, and he pulled her against him, holding her tightly, desperate to reassure her.
"I'll love you, Windsor, always, no matter what happens. For God's sake, say you'll marry me."
Every nerve on edge, he waited, but long moments passed before her lips quivered against his chest. "I will wait until my child is born, then I will give my answer. If he is your child, I will marry you. If he is not, I will take him and return to China."
Stone clasped her shoulders and held her out from him so that he could look into her face. His fingers tightened. "No. I won't let you do that. I'll never let you do that."
Windsor's tears fell afresh, and Stone pulled her back against his chest. "If you want to go to China, I'll go with you. Just don't leave me. I don't care whose child it is, I swear to God I don't. Give me the chance to prove that to you. Don't you understand, Windsor? Without you, my life won't mean anything."
At his earnest entreaty, Windsor sobbed, a terrible, lost sound. "But I'm so afraid," she whispered miserably. "I'm afraid that if I stay with you, you will hate my baby. I'm terrified that your face will grow hard every time you look at him, the way it does when you think of Clan. Every day of your life, my child will remind you of everything you detest."
Stone stroked her hair. He shut his eyes, but his voice was gentle. "And can you honestly say, Windsor, that you wouldn't be reminded of the hell he put you through?"
"My baby is a part of me."
"And that's why I'll love him," Stone muttered into the cropped blond curls lying against her temple.
Windsor laid her cheek against his chest and let herself weep. "He's so evil," she mumbled through her tears, finally putting into words her greatest fear. "You know how Emerson Clan feels about his son, how determined he was to have Carlos. What if I do have his child? What if he tries to take him away from me, as he did to Nina?"
"That'll never happen," Stone ground out. "He'll never lay a finger on anyone I love, not ever again. I swear it to you, Windsor."
His shoulder dampened by her grief, Stone crushed Windsor tighter against him, the fire of iron resolution turning his heart to steel. Whether the baby was his own child or not, Windsor would not leave him. Whether the baby was his or not, Clan would never come anywhere close to Windsor or her baby. Because no matter how long it took, no matter how far he ran, Stone was going to kill the murdering bastard.
For the next week or so, Stone lived with the roiling emotions his thirst for blood vengeance kept stirred up inside him. He hid his inner turmoil from Windsor, and he achieved his purpose, because with each day that passed, she seemed better. Since she had spilled out her fears and misgivings to him, she acted more relaxed, more resigned to all that had happened to her. And Carlisle, bless her heart, was treating her like a long-lost sister. Stone would always be grateful for that.
One night as the family gathered in the main salon, Stone watched Windsor from where he stood with his back to the windows. She sat quietly on a nearby settee, listening to Carlisle's chatter, looking beautiful and serene with her hands folded together in her lap. Gazing at her, he felt sure that in time everything would be all right. Since she had told him about the child, much of the tension had gone out of her. She was going to survive her nightmare.
As usual, thoughts of the baby she carried caused ropes of fear to twine around his chest. The baby is mine, he told himself firmly for the thousandth time; he has to be. He refused to let himself think anything else.
"Windsor, if you have a boy, I will lend you all my baby clothes, so you'll have double of everything," Carlisle was telling her generously. "But if you have a girl, then you and Stone will have to pass all your little lacy dresses down to me, because Chase and I are going to have a girl next time."
"Sure of herself, isn't she?" her husband remarked, smiling at Windsor.
Windsor's soft laugh made Stone feel good all over. He had been concerned about leaving her when he went after Clan, but she obviously liked both Chase and Carlisle. And Dona Maria treated her like a favorite niece. As soon as Sun-On-Wings returned with word concerning Clan's whereabouts, Stone would be ready to ride. Windsor would be safe here with his family, and that was his main concern.
"Which do you want, Stone?" Carlisle asked him, bringing him into the conversation. "A boy or a girl?"
Stone thought of his sister's sons with their green eyes and black hair. What color eyes would Windsor's child have? He looked at her and smiled. "All I want is for Windsor to marry me, the sooner the better."
"That's a good idea. We could make it a big family affair! Wouldn't that be fun? We haven't all been together for a wedding yet."
"Sounds good to me."
The deep baritone voice that answered had come from the patio doorway, startling all of them. Stone swung around to see his older brother, Gray, grinning at him. His wife, Tyler, stood beside him.
"Surprise!" she cried, making Carlisle squeal with delight. She ran to her sister-in-law, and the two women hugged, then danced around in a circle like excited children. Everyone began talking and laughing, all at the same time, but Stone walked forward and clasped his older brother's hand.
Stone felt a lump thickening at the base of his throat as they embraced. He was very glad to see his brother. All through their lives they had been close. They had raised Carlisle together, when they hadn't been much more than boys themselves, and they had fought to scratch out a living on the streets of Chicago after moving there from Mississippi,
long before they had made their family fortune in the railway business.
"Thanks for coming, Gray," he said, his voice gruff with emotion.
"We left Chicago the day after I got your telegraph. I'm just damn surprised you've hung around here long enough for us to make the trip. You sure as hell haven't exactly kept in touch," Gray complained, but he was smiling when he continued. "Now where's this nun who finally got you hog-tied?"
Stone glanced at Windsor, who had quietly watched the affectionate round of greetings from her place on the settee. He led her forward to meet the rest of his family.
"This is Windsor Richmond, and she's going to marry me as soon as you and Tyler can help us talk her into it."
Bowing low, Gray captured Windsor's fingers. "How do you do, Miss Richmond? I'll warn you now that I'm much more charming and persuasive than my brother can ever hope to be, so you'll certainly need to put in an order for your wedding gown."
Windsor smiled. "I am pleased to see you again. I met you in Chicago when I boarded the train for San Francisco."
"Yes, I saw you," Tyler MacKenzie Kincaid told her, coming up to them. "I told Gray then and there that I was certain you weren't a nun. And I was right. I've got very good instincts about such things."
"Yes, now I remember," Gray replied. "You told us your name was Sister Mary, but Tyler said you were much too young and pretty to be a nun. Now that I see you again, I must agree with her. But tell me, Stone, how long did it take you to notice?"
"About two minutes," he admitted, putting his arm around Windsor's waist. "But it was a hell of a lot longer than that before I knew she wasn't a nun."
"I want to hear all about your experiences," Tyler said, "but first, I absolutely must see the boys. I can't wait another moment, I've missed them so much! Where are they, Carly?"
"They're out in the patio with Tomas and their grandmother," Carlisle answered, taking her arm. "Come along with us, Windsor. I can't wait for you and Tyler to get acquainted! Now that she's here, she can help us plan your wedding! And, Windsor, you mustn't wear black at the ceremony the way Tyler did," Carlisle teased, laughing when her sister-in-law blushed.
"Oh, don't tell anybody about that! I'm still mortified to admit I did such a thing," Tyler cried as Carlisle dragged both her and Windsor from the room.
The three men were left to smile after them. Chase shook his head. "Carlisle will definitely lead them into ruin. We'd better keep a close eye on all three of them."
"Tyler's good at finding trouble all by herself, if you'll remember," Gray replied, glancing at Stone. "You've got a lot to fill me in on, I believe."
"Yes. Quite a bit has happened since I saw you last."
"I gathered that by what little you said in your telegram."
Chase swung an arm toward the door leading into the next room. "Let's go into my office, where we can have cigars and brandy. We won't be disturbed there."
Half an hour later, Stone was finished relating the details of his story. For some reason, he found the telling easier this time, much more so than the night he had shared the sordid tale with Carlisle. Maybe because Windsor was now on her way to recovery.
Gray sat back in his chair, his face sober and subdued. "Damn that man. He's got as many lives as a cat. Sometimes he seems almost invincible."
"He's not invincible," Stone said, hatred steeling his words. "He's a dead man waiting for me to get the job done."
Gray leaned forward, his eyes intent on his brother. "So you're going after him again? Even after all this?"
"Wouldn't you? If he'd abused Tyler that way?" he asked Gray. "Or if he'd done this to Carlisle?" he added to Chase.
"I'd want to choke the life out of him with my bare hands," Gray admitted slowly, "but I get the impression that Windsor's still a bit shaky. You don't want to give her a setback by leaving and making her worry about you."
"Look, Stone," Chase interjected, setting his brandy snifter down on his desk, "I have high political connections in Mexico City. If Clan is involved with the guerrilleros, I might be able to get you the use of Nacional troops while you're in my country. We could help you capture him and lock him up, once and for all."
"No. I want to do it alone."
"For God's sake, Stone, now you're being unreasonable," Gray said angrily. "Clan's proved himself too dangerous to be taken by one man. Let the three of us get some help, and then we'll go after him together."
"Every time I get anyone else involved in this mess, they end up getting hurt. That's not going to happen again. I go alone. This is my fight. I want to kill him myself."
"And what if you don't come back? Then what happens to Windsor and your baby?"
Stone gazed steadily into his brother's face. "I'll be back. And until I am, both of you will be here to protect Windsor."
Chase and Gray exchanged concerned looks, but their serious conversation was effectively curtailed as the three women burst into the room with the two babies, a doting grandmother, a smiling nursemaid, and a sheepish-looking Uncle Tomas.
28
Just over a week later, Windsor performed the last of the slow, methodical motions of her Dragonfire fighting skills, then sat upon a blanket spread out on a grassy knoll overlooking the Santa Catarina River. She had begun practicing again to make her muscles strong and supple. The physical exercise helped her when she became tense and tired.
Below her, most of the other picnickers milled among the grove of shade trees growing along the bank. Windsor watched Stone, who was conversing with his brother, Gray, at the water's edge. From the beginning Windsor had sensed that the Kincaid men were very close friends as well as blood kin. Unlike their sister, Carlisle, Stone and Gray strongly resembled each other in appearance, both dark and good-looking, both tall with broad shoulders and long legs.
Since Gray and Tyler had arrived, they had been unfailingly kind to Windsor, as had Carlisle and the rest of Chase Lancaster's family. Nevertheless, Windsor felt very much the outsider of the group. The rich Americans came from a world diametrically different from her own. Their lives were filled with laughter and happiness and good fortune, while a heavy cloud of fear and doubt hung like a funereal pall over Stone and her, and would remain to darken their happiness until after her child was born. Afraid to contemplate what the future might hold, Windsor rested her palm upon the growing swell of her belly.
"Did your baby just move?" Tyler asked from where she had come up into the shade cast by a thick-limbed pecan tree.
Windsor turned to look at Stone's sister-in-law. The two of them had not conversed together at length, but Windsor had heard Carlisle speak sorrowfully of Tyler's recent miscarriage of her firstborn child. Now as Windsor looked into Tyler's pretty face, she could see the veil of melancholy still lingering deep in the young woman's cinnamon-brown eyes.
"No. I have felt no movement yet."
"You will someday soon, and it will be quite a miraculous moment," Tyler predicted with a smile. "Would you mind if I sit next to you for a while? Carlisle and Dona Maria have already taken the twins back to the house for their afternoon nap, and Tomas is off to fight the bulls, but it's so pleasant and warm out here by the river that I'd like to stay and walk home with Gray."
"I would enjoy sitting with you."
Tyler wore a fine silk gown, the same lustrous saffron yellow as the robes worn by Buddhist priests, Windsor observed as she returned her gaze to the dark silhouette of the Sierra Madre rising against the sky, as jagged and blue as the towering peaks behind the Temple of the Blue Mountain. As Tyler sat down and took several moments to arrange the voluminous folds of her wide skirt, Windsor wondered if the Old One was even now sitting in his favorite spot of meditation before the glowing candles.
"I wonder what Gray and Stone are talking about for so long," Tyler said when she had settled herself comfortably. "They're certainly engrossed in their conversation."
They're talking about Emerson Clan, Windsor thought. Stone is thinking of going after him again. Her hea
rt constricted, and dread filled her.
"It's wonderful to see Stone again," Tyler went on amiably. "Gray and I have been awfully worried about him, though Gray has always said that Stone's perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Still, Stone is very special."
Windsor swiveled slightly toward Tyler. "Stone Kincaid is a good man, but he is still filled with hatred. It perches on his soul and eats it away like a vulture feasting on carrion."
Tyler looked slightly disconcerted by Windsor's gory analogy. "Well, yes, I think you're right, but I was hoping your marriage would help him."
Windsor was aware that Stone had told everyone how he felt about her, but she had not swayed in her decision not to marry him until after her baby was born. "I pray that destiny will allow us to intertwine our lives. But I am afraid for Stone Kincaid."
Tyler hesitated for a fraction of a moment, as if reluctant to speak; then she touched Windsor's sleeve. "Carlisle told me what happened to you. I am so sorry. I know how cruel Emerson Clan can be. He killed one of our servants when he broke into our house He came there for me because he thought I was Stone's wife. Every time I remember the look in his eyes when he spoke Stone's name, I get chills up and down my back. Perhaps, though, when enough time has passed, you will be able to forget."
Windsor nodded, though she knew it would take a very long while for her to rid her mind of the torment. Regardless, she felt comforted by Tyler's understanding. She hadn't been able to bring herself to speak of her ordeal, except to Stone, and she had stopped confiding in him because she saw rage flame behind his eyes each time she did.
"I was terrified at first, even in the days after Stone Kincaid rescued me. But with each day that passes I, too, feel more the way I was before. Time will heal my spirit as well as my body, for iron long fired becomes steel."
"You are very brave," Tyler murmured, her eyes full of compassion.
