WARRIOR'S BRIDE Read online

  "The tips of my breasts," she whispered into his mouth.

  His nostrils flared and his tongue dragged across his lower lip. Wordlessly, he sat up and poured a small amount of oil into the cap of the bottle. He rolled her so she was on her back again.

  Excruciatingly slowly, he let one drop fall from the cap onto her right nipple. She gasped at the impact, savoring the slippery warmth that spread down the hard point.

  He toyed with her for a moment, poising the cap above her left breast, making her wait for the precious liquid to fall. She tried to hold perfectly still so it wouldn't miss, but her heart pounded so hard it made her breast bounce slightly with every beat.

  "Please, Cole." Her voice cracked.

  When the drop finally fell, hitting the tightly knotted bud, she cried out, her control snapping. She grasped his T-shirt and pulled him to her, covering his mouth with hers, swallowing his answering groan, savaging him with kisses.

  "Cole." She whispered his name, keening in pleasure when his hands closed around her breasts.

  "Oh, woman." His tongue met hers and stroked boldly into her mouth. "God, how I want you."

  She grabbed his T-shirt and yanked it up his chest. "I want you, too," she urged. "I've dreamed of nothing else since May." She couldn't believe her dreams were about to come true.

  He helped her slip it over his head, then slid his arm under her and awkwardly pulled her close. "Will it be okay? The baby?"

  "Just be gentle."

  "I will, sweetheart." Joining his lips with hers again, he spread her legs apart. "So silky," he breathed into her mouth. "So wet. Like a flower in the rain." He tested her depths with his fingers. "Rini, the baby's right there. I'm so hard for you I'm afraid I'll hurt one of you."

  "Please don't stop, Cole. I'll guide you." She reached for the waistband of his sweats.

  He stroked her intimately and whispered in her ear, "I want to be inside you."

  Katarina's heart filled with happiness and she threw her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. "Oh, Cole, I'm so happy. It's going to be okay, isn't it—our marriage?"

  "Shh, of course it is."

  "And you will love me, won't you? Swear you will…"

  She felt him go still. Then he held her away from his chest and looked into her face.

  "Rini," he said quietly.

  "Because I couldn't stand it if I thought you wouldn't learn to love me, eventually."

  "Honey—"

  Katarina's words continued to spill out, regardless of her growing uneasiness. "I understand it'll take time. But we're together now. A family. You and me and our son. I'm pretty sure I could love you." I already do. "You could love me one day—" she nestled against him, waiting for reassurance … or something else "—couldn't you?"

  Anything… Please!

  "Rini. Honey…"

  With a feeling of impending doom, she looked up into his eyes, and her heart shattered in a million pieces. "Oh, God."

  "Sweetheart, don't—" The look of profound guilt and confusion on his face told her everything his words didn't.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. "You don't want that."

  "It's not that I don't… It's not that simple. I—"

  "Alex was right. You don't really want me at all."

  "That's not true. I've never wanted anyone more in my life, Rini."

  "For sex. Just sex. And the baby." She pulled her arms from him and buried her face in her hands. "Oh, what have I done?"

  She turned her back and curled into herself, hugging the child in her womb. How could she have misjudged the situation so completely? How could she have deceived herself into thinking he could ever love her, or even accept that she might love him?

  He put his arms around her from behind. "I'm so sorry, darlin'. I thought love was the last thing on your mind."

  "Cole, I'm having your baby! What did you think was on my mind? Just a quick roll in the hay and then back to our business proposition? I thought… Oh, I'm such an idiot."

  Pain stabbed through her chest and a single tear fought its way past her tightly squeezed lids. She had to get control of herself. She would not cry in front of him. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "Please leave me alone."

  She felt his hand on her arm. "Rini…"

  She jerked away, unable to bear being touched by him. Shame burned in her face. "Go away. Please, just go away."

  She could sense the reluctance in his movements, but he got up, grabbed his T-shirt and left without another word.

  Katarina trembled with guilt and disappointment, frustration and dashed hopes. She thought with bitterness of her mother's scorn, of David's cruelty, and now this ultimate humiliation from the man she had married. She swallowed furiously, refusing to let herself cry. Why didn't he want to love her?

  She took a long, shuddering breath. She knew she had to reach deep inside herself for the strength to go on hoping.

  "I've been such a fool," she whispered to herself. "He doesn't love me. He doesn't even want to. But for my baby's sake, somehow, some way, I have to change his mind."

  * * *

  Katarina sang softly as she gathered ingredients to make French toast. Glancing at the multipaned window of Cole's kitchen—her kitchen now, she reminded herself—she caught the reflection of the determined look that refused to leave her face that morning.

  She was married. And he was a good man, she knew, despite… Well, anyway, in a few short weeks she would have his baby, and they would be a real family.

  After a long, sleepless night of soul-searching, she had decided the situation was definitely worth salvaging.

  Sure, they had a few problems to iron out. Like the fact that he had no intention of ever falling in love with her, for instance. But she would work on that. She could find a way. Under the circumstances, she felt justified in her course of action. It was obvious he was very attracted to her, sexually. She was certain he could grow to love her, too. She had to believe it was possible. For her own sanity.

  In the meantime, she'd be careful to keep him at arm's length. No repeats of her weakness of last night, that was for sure. She couldn't let herself get close enough to be susceptible to his heated looks and erotic caresses. That would be her downfall.

  Grabbing a bowl, she cracked eggs and dipped bread. This had to be strictly platonic. Just until he realized he loved her, of course. But that was only a matter of time. Humming, Katarina poured Cole's coffee, hot and black just as he liked it. She'd take such good care of him, he wouldn't know what hit him.

  She had just finished piling his plate high with French toast when she heard him stride down the hall toward the kitchen. She smoothed her dress, brushing at a splotch of powdered sugar, then turned to greet him.

  He blew into the kitchen like a storm cloud. Her smile faltered, but she quickly repossessed. it. "Good morning."

  "Morning." He strode directly to the table and grabbed his coffee. It sloshed over the side of the cup onto his hand. "Damn!"

  She hurried over with a cloth to wipe off the hot liquid. When she touched him he flinched worse than when the scalding coffee had hit his flesh. He jerked his hand away.

  "Cole!"

  "I'm fine. Don't fuss." He turned to the table.

  She stared at his back, unaccountably hurt. "Okay." She pushed the hurt away and fetched the maple syrup from the counter. "Have some breakfast. I've made French toast."

  "I don't eat breakfast. Coffee's fine."

  She gripped the edge of a chair. "At least sit down."

  He shook his head. "I have to get to the office."

  Her heart stalled. What was wrong with him? "But … it's Saturday. I thought…" Was he mad about last night? What possible reason did he have to be mad? She was the one—

  "I have a case coming up next week. I need to prepare."

  Pulling out a kitchen drawer, he extracted an envelope and ripped it open, then lined up the contents on the table between their rapidly cooling breakfasts.

  "Before I
go, here is a house key, car keys, checkbook, credit card. There's a thousand dollars in the checking account and a two-thousand-dollar limit on the card. Another thousand will be transferred into the checking account on the first of every month. I know it's not much, but I'll have to cut back on work when the baby comes, and liquidating some of my stocks will take time, so I'm playing it safe for now. Later on there'll be plenty."

  She gaped at him as he counted out another five hundred in cash onto the table.

  "This is for food and other household expenses in the meantime. Enough?"

  Mutely, she nodded. Pain curled around her stomach, spreading through her whole body with each beat of her stinging heart.

  He picked up the car keys. "I'd prefer you didn't drive your own car all the way to UCLA and back every day. Brad says it's falling apart and it's a miracle it has lasted this long. These keys are to the Camaro. It's yours if you want it. Oh, yeah…" He pulled out his wallet and tossed another credit card onto the table. "Here's a gas card." He looked at her levelly. "Did I miss anything?"

  Not trusting her voice, she gave her head a small shake.

  He drained his coffee. "In that case, I'll be going."

  His hand was reaching for the back door when she finally broke through the paralysis that held her in its grip. "I'm sorry about last night, Cole. I was upset. I've known all along you don't love me, and I have no right to expect anything more. Please—"

  He stopped, then swung around, his face a study in cool indifference. She took a step back and hit the counter.

  Memories of the way David had changed as soon as she'd moved into his condo crashed through her mind—memories of the way, almost overnight, a seemingly affectionate, considerate man had become the detestable bastard who'd flung biting, hurtful sarcasm at her every time she made a decision he didn't like. Which was nearly always.

  Bracing herself for the ego-numbing abuse that was sure to follow, she recoiled from Cole's scrutiny. When he spoke, it was in a low voice, insinuating itself like a virus into her already frazzled nerves.

  "No, Rini. You have every right to expect love from a husband. But don't ask me for it. I simply don't have it in me to give."

  His eyes seared her almost painfully. "Physically, I want you like crazy, and I'm going to continue to want you. I'll honor our agreement, Rini, but I'm only human. Do me a big favor and from now on just stay out of my way. It'll be easier on both of us." He spun on a heel then and stalked out the door, slamming it shut.

  Katarina's whole body reverberated with the weight of that slam. Her legs finally gave out and she slid down the cupboard to the floor, where she sat staring after him in a daze.

  She supposed she had been dreaming to think their life could be anywhere close to normal, given their platonic relationship.

  She glanced around the neat, simple kitchen, battling the despair in her heart. It would look nice painted yellow, she thought bleakly. With pretty white, lacy curtains. And white trim, too. Yes, he'd like white trim.

  She bit her lip, tasting copper.

  He hadn't ripped her to shreds, but he hadn't given her a chance, either. She closed her eyes and ran a shaky hand over the baby as he moved inside her. What would she do? She'd lost Cole before she'd even had a fair shot at winning him.

  He just didn't understand. She'd already shared the bed of one man who didn't love her. It was just too painful to expose herself to that kind of hurt again. She'd come too far to go back to that place.

  For a long time she sat there on the floor, only her hand on the baby moving. Cole had been very, very angry. But still, he hadn't made her feel like she was a subhuman moron. In her misery, that thought nurtured a small seed of hope.

  Finally, she roused herself. Shuddering out a sigh, she glanced up. Maybe she'd stencil a border around the walls up by the ceiling, too.

  Yes. She'd like that.

  * * *

  Cole stumbled in after midnight, and the house was dark. The door to his bedroom stood wide open. Dog tired, he nearly collapsed into his bed, momentarily forgetting he no longer resided in the master bedroom. At the last minute he spied Rini there, ensconced in a pile of pillows and his Pendleton blanket.

  He stood over her, torn between feelings of anger and frustration, and those of sadness and longing. He didn't know what had possessed him that morning. Maybe it had been the thought of having to live under the same roof with her, still furious with her—hell, with himself. Still wanting her. Unable to do anything about either. Knowing he had every right to. Knowing he had no right at all.

  Damn, he was confused.

  But he did feel a little better after a grueling day of self-punishment at the office, working through his feelings of being so thoroughly and unjustly rejected by her last night. After all, she'd known how he felt about love, long before letting him into that bed with her.

  But Rini's apology this morning had told him loud and clear that she hadn't intended to hurt him. She was just trying to work through her own private horrors. She had no way of knowing about his sensitivity to rejection. And he wasn't about to talk about it. Maybe in twenty or thirty years…

  Rini moved in her sleep, hugging the pillow she held to her chest even tighter, softly murmuring words he couldn't quite hear. He was still angry, but even so, he had to stop himself from climbing in with her. He sighed, wondering when his body would get the message.

  He turned and trailed into the guest room, emptying his jacket pockets as he went. Tossing his wallet and change onto the dresser, he stripped off his shirt and headed to the bathroom. Suddenly, he caught the smell of fresh paint.

  Frowning, he turned and followed the smell into the chilly kitchen. A cold breeze blew in through open windows. Flicking on the light, he was floored to see what Rini had done. Instead of dull beige, the walls were now a bright, cheerful yellow, with glossy white trim.

  "Like it?" Rini's sleepy voice sounded behind him.

  He turned to the sight of her tousled hair falling over the lapels of his old flannel robe. "It's never looked so good," he said, momentarily unsure of whether he meant the kitchen or the robe.

  She smiled tentatively. "I'm glad you like it." He brought his wandering mind to heel. "But you shouldn't be painting."

  She looked at her feet. "Dr. Morris said it was okay if I opened all the windows."

  "That's not what I meant."

  She didn't have to say a thing. The expression on her face said it all. She wanted to appease him.

  He thought of his ex-wife's son, Jeff, who'd written him that heartbreaking letter, and of how things could have turned out just as badly with his own son and Rini if he hadn't made the effort to gather them to him. Silently, he thanked God for giving him the chance.

  Guiltily, he shook his head. "Look, Rini, I'm sorry about this morning. I had no right coming down on you like a ton of bricks."

  She bit her lip. "I didn't mean to make you angry last night. I just—"

  "I know," he said, more gruffly than he intended. "Apology's not necessary. And you don't have to earn your keep." He cut her a look. "In any way."

  Eyes still on the floor, she nodded.

  He glanced around the kitchen. "I don't want you doing so much. You just take care of yourself and the baby."

  She looked up at him imploringly. "I need to feel useful. Let me do a few things around the house, at least." She laid her hand on his arm. "Please, Cole."

  The way her eyes pleaded with him, he couldn't find it in his heart to refuse. Before he did something he'd regret, he moved his arm out from under her hand and started toward the living room. "Just be careful and don't overdo it, okay? Now, get back to bed. You'll catch your death with all these windows open."

  * * *

  When the office phone rang for the fifth time, Cole looked up irately from the papers he was working on. There weren't all that many days left to tie up loose ends before the birth. He'd wanted to finish this one last brief before going home, and the phone had been ringing nons
top since he'd gotten to his office three hours ago. A headache drilled into his brain.

  "Lonetree," he snapped into the mouthpiece.

  "Cole, sweetie, is that any way to greet your wife?"

  He was in no mood for jokes. "No, but that's not a problem, since you're not my wife."

  "Oh, but I am," the smug feminine voice purred. "This is Lindsay. I'm crushed you didn't recognize me."

  Lindsay! That was just what he needed right now. Not.

  "What the hell do you want?" When he hadn't heard from her after getting the letter from Jeff a couple of weeks ago, he'd thought her silence was too good to be true.

  "It's nice to hear your voice, too. How are you?"

  "Lindsay, I'm very busy, so you'll excuse me if I hang up."

  "That wouldn't be a very good idea, sweetie. What would your pretty new wife say if she found out her husband has a fourteen-year-old son?"

  He drilled a hand through his hair, scowling furiously. "Sorry, won't work. I never touched you and you know it."

  "Yes, well. There's just your word on that, isn't there?"

  "Ever heard of DNA testing?" Cole rubbed his aching temple. "You've got a screw loose, Lindsay. I've already talked to Jeff and he knows I'm not his father. Stop hassling me, and don't even think about contacting my wife."

  She was silent for a moment, then sighed defeatedly. "Give me a break, okay? I gave the kid up for adoption, and now he's found me. He's 'looking for his roots,'" she mimicked, groaning. "He's only interested in his Native half. He can barely bring himself to speak to me. I remember what you went through when you were young. I just thought…"

  Cole stifled his knee-jerk reaction to the subject of his own adoption. He had already told Jeff he'd take him to the next powwow and introduce him around the local Indian community. Teach him a few things. But Lindsay didn't need to know that. "What do you want from me?"

  "Can't you call him back and tell him you're his father?"

  "Are you out of your mind?" he shouted before getting hold of his temper. "Besides being immoral and an outright lie, it wouldn't be fair to the boy. He deserves to find his real father."

  He heard a muffled female sniffle. Great.