WARRIOR'S BRIDE Page 20

  She returned his smile with a slight blush on her cheeks. "First time, honest. It's an old Finnish pattern I remember from a table runner in my grandmother's house before she died." She sighed. "I wonder what ever happened to it."

  "That's great. Chance's regalia should reflect his whole heritage, not just my part."

  Cole watched her work for a moment, noting that the purple smudges under her eyes were lighter today. He'd made her go back to sleep after they'd made love that morning, and he'd threatened to burn her books if she so much as glanced at them before dinner. With all her classes, endless studying, Chance's feedings and his own attentions, he knew she must be running on empty.

  But he wasn't about to give up the incredible physical relationship they'd enjoyed for the past few weeks, ever since the trip to Rincon. She had taken him to heights he'd never known possible, and he'd given her pleasures she'd confessed to only dreaming of.

  He wagered she wasn't about to give it up, either. Her body was so in tune with his that all it took was a glance and she was ready—hot and trembling and wet with desire. Desire that only he could satisfy. And he did. Every night and most mornings, too.

  No, neither of them would give up this newfound passion, so he had to make damn sure she didn't collapse from exhaustion. Getting her involved in making Chance's regalia for the upcoming powwow seemed like a perfect way to get her to slow down and relax awhile.

  They sat cross-legged on a large circle of leather on the living room floor, buckskin and tools, needles and tubes of beads surrounding them. She looked so beautiful sitting there across from him, her pale hair cascading onto her shoulders in waves, her tongue peeking out from between her lips as she concentrated on her stitching. As had happened so often over the weeks since Chance's birth, his heart contracted in his chest.

  He'd made a vow to try to love her unconditionally, and he'd tried. Honest to God he had done his best. There had been times when he was sure his heart would break from the pain of not being able to let go, of not being able to make that last free fall into mindless, soul-deep love, as he so yearned to do.

  But something always held him back. The dark, cynical part of his mind that always lectured him on the perfidy of women—that they would love you one day and be gone the next. The mocking skeptic in him that kept reminding him she wouldn't need him anymore once she'd gotten her degree and could support herself and Chance. The voice that never failed to point out as evidence her refusal to say she would never leave him.

  Since that first time at Rincon, he'd continued to ask. And she always said she never wanted to leave him. Never wanted to leave him. But there was a world of difference between those statements. And he was just the man to pick up on it.

  He'd garbled that making love would prompt her to take the final step to committing herself fully to him. It hadn't. But it had made him start waking up in a cold sweat at night groping at the empty space in his bed where she should have been—only to realize she was seeing to Chance. He would feel like a fool, but only after the heart-pounding panic and the headlong rushing of blood through his veins had slowed enough to allow him to reason logically.

  It was torture, and the only way it would be eased was when she could look him in the eye and tell him she would never leave. Until then, he knew he would not be able to let down the barriers he'd carried with him for so many, many years, no matter how much he wished he could.

  She looked up from her stitching and caught him watching her. She tipped her head in that cute way she had when she found him staring—part curious, part pleased, part shy. With a breaking heart, he leaned over and kissed her, scattering beads and awls over the floor as he went.

  How he wished he could just say the words.

  * * *

  Katarina scowled and determinedly returned her concentration to the top of the page she was attempting to memorize. Only two more days till finals. She couldn't afford to daydream. Everything depended on her getting this nursing degree. For the past month, things had been wonderful between her and Cole. Wonderful and horrible. She didn't know what to do.

  He had moved back into his room with her, and the spare room had become Chance's nursery. Every night they would make hot, passionate love, or slow, easy love, or intense, stormy love, until they were both exhausted and replete. Then he would gather her in his arts and they would sleep, entwined like the lovers they were.

  And still he did not love her.

  She had so hoped that making love to him would be the key to opening his heart. He seemed happy. He complimented her unfailingly on everything she did, encouraged and helped with her studies, watched with a smile when she fed Chance. Cole seemed content.

  And yet, he did not love her.

  She could feel the emotional barrier between them just as solid as a brick wall. To be sure, there were places where the mortar had crumbled so she could peek through that wall. But whenever she did, he would always retreat just out of reach, closing himself off behind that breezy affection or blazing passion with a determination that nearly broke her heart.

  What if he never grew to love her? What would she do? Should she take Chance now and leave Cole, before she totally lost herself in a dead-end relationship once again? Now, before Chance's tiny heart would be broken by seeing his daddy only on weekends?

  She didn't want to think about the possibility of having to leave the man who had come to mean the world to her. But she could not spend her life with a man who didn't love her. And she had to be prepared for the eventuality that he never would.

  That meant she had to graduate, and to graduate she had to pass her finals. Which meant memorizing the damned book she couldn't seem to focus on.

  There was a loud pounding on the door, and she groaned. It couldn't be Cole—he'd gone into the office for a few hours. Besides, he would never knock like that for fear of waking Chance. She cast a glance at the closed door to the nursery, hurried over to the front door and opened it wide, ready to give whoever it was what for.

  In a blur of black and chains, a huge man lurched past, shoving her aside. Stunned speechless, she found her attention seized by the large silver gun he clutched in his hand. It was pointed at the ceiling, but the eyes in his bruised and bloody face were staring right at her.

  She glanced desperately toward the nursery, then groped behind her for the door. He turned and looked around as if crazed, his wild, long hair flying. A confused frown creased his face. He looked back, catching her inching backward. Grabbing her arm, he yanked her into the living room and slammed the door shut.

  "No!" She struggled against his iron grip. "No!" Resting his weight against the wall, he tugged her closer, almost cradling her against his black leather jacket. She could smell sweat and the open road and a hint of exotic perfume. Suddenly, his expression changed subtly, softening.

  "Fire Eyes," he croaked, then slid down the wall and lay unconscious, a battered heap at her feet.

  * * *

  Cole leaned across Lindsay's desk and gave her his most menacing scowl. "He wants to see you. God knows why, but he does. You owe him that much."

  Lindsay paled. "I told you, I can't. Daddy would never speak to me again if he found out."

  Cole bit back a curse.

  "And he'd probably kill Billy."

  "Let him try," Cole growled.

  She put her hand over his on the desk. "Billy can tell Jeff anything he needs to—"

  "You're pathetic! He's your own flesh and blood!"

  Lindsay jumped up. "And my father isn't?" She whipped around the desk, stalked up to him and grabbed his lapels, pressing up against his chest. "Jeff already has an adoptive mother who loves him! But what happens to me if I lose my only dad? After I satisfy Jeff's curiosity will he hang around to comfort me?" She backed off, waving a hand. "No way. He's made it clear what he thinks of me."

  Cole sighed and pulled out a card on which he'd written Jeff's address and phone number. "Call him, Lindsay. Just once, think of someone besides yourself." H
e pressed the card into her hand.

  The office door opened and Lindsay's secretary poked her head in. "There's a call for Mr. Lonetree from his office, on line one."

  He looked up worriedly. "Thanks." How did Charlie know where he was? More importantly, what emergency had prompted him to call? Cole picked up the phone and punched the flashing button. "What's wrong?"

  "Rini called. Some guy broke into your house."

  * * *

  Cole burst through the front door and immediately spotted the man lying prone on the sofa. "Renegade!" He care to a sliding halt on his knees by the couch, first relieved, then alarmed at the sight of his bruised and battered friend.

  "Hey, compadre." White patches where Rini had bandaged his face shifted when Renegade smiled up at him. "Hell of a woman you've got yourself."

  Cole grasped his hand, then quickly let it go at the wince that distorted his friend's already swollen face.

  "Stubborn as a mule," Rini muttered. She stood at one end of the sofa, holding a cup of tea and looking stern.

  Renegade winked at Cole. "Thanks for the hospitality. I'll be out of your hair by morning."

  "He's in no shape to travel," Rini said firmly. "I saw that contraption he's riding, and—"

  Chuckling, Cole rose and gave her a kiss. "No use, darlin'. He's rattled out any brains he ever had a long time ago. One trip more or less won't make any difference." He took the cup from her hands. "You did good. Thanks for taking care of him. And for calling me."

  Worriedly, he watched Renegade struggle to sit up and lean stiffly against the back cushion, his eyes closed.

  Rini glanced at the man on their couch. "Um, I've got to get back to my studying. If there's anything you need, I'll be in the bedroom."

  Cole gave her a squeeze. "Thanks."

  After she'd closed the door behind her, he handed Renegade the tea. "Drink. Then you can tell me just what the hell is going on."

  He took a long pull of the green liquid and grimaced. "What is this stuff, anyway?"

  "Something to help recover from childbirth, I think." His friend looked up in alarm, and for a second Cole thought he might spit it out. He laughed. "Tough guy."

  Renegade shrugged and slugged back the rest in one gulp. Setting the cup down, he let out a long, weary breath. "I found her." Cole didn't need to be told he meant RaeAnne. Renegade reached for the leather jacket Rini had folded over the back of the couch and pulled out an envelope. "Can you keep this safe?"

  Cole nodded. "Of course." He knew better than to ask what was in it or how sweet RaeAnne Sommarby was involved in something that had left his best friend looking like this. But it was useless to speculate. The man was as tight-lipped as they came about work, even if it involved his long-lost love.

  His friend leaned back and sighed, his face easing as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his back. "I want to see your baby boy." Renegade pushed to his feet and gave him a careworn smile. "Glad you gave Rini a second chance. She's quite a lady."

  "She's pretty amazing, all right." He led his friend to the nursery and together they leaned over the crib, speaking in hushed voices.

  "He's beautiful. You're a lucky guy."

  "Better believe it." Cole turned to his friend. "What about you and RaeAnne?"

  Renegade's jaw hardened. "She's mixed up with some creep." He glanced up, looking Cole straight in the eye. "If he hurts her, I'll kill the bastard."

  He was dead serious. Cole knew what doing something like that, even in the line of duty, would mean to his friend's career, his life. "You'd do that?"

  "Yeah."

  He gazed down at his sleeping son, knowing he'd do the same for him. "Would she thank you?"

  "She loves me."

  Cole gripped the side of the crib. "How can you be so sure? How do you know she won't just let you solve her problems and then run off?"

  Renegade regarded Cole closely. "I don't. I just have to trust that what I see and feel is real." He laid his bandaged hand on Cole's arm. "If you can't imagine life without her, it's real. If she's the first thing you think of in the morning and the last thing before you fall asleep, it's real. If you watch her eyes when you tell her you love her and they go all soft and mushy, it's real."

  Cole tore his gaze from his friend's.

  "You haven't told her."

  He shook his head.

  Renegade reached out and smoothed a finger through Chance's hair. "You're an idiot, compadre."

  "She won't stay. I can feel it."

  Straightening, Renegade stuck his fists on his hips. "Any reason she should leave?"

  He swallowed heavily, facing the one man in the world who knew him best. "None of the others had any reason, either."

  The big man before him spoke with a voice as soft and gentle as dandelions in the wind. "There's always a reason, Cole. You just got caught in the middle. You've got to stop blaming yourself for things you had no control over."

  He made a deprecating sound.

  His friend continued to study him. "You know, it was you who gave me the nickname Renegade, but it would suit you a whole lot better. You reject everything and anyone that threatens to get too close—your adoptive family, your real mom. You set yourself up for failure by marrying that Lindsay woman…"

  Cole's jaw set.

  "You deny your white upbringing, yet here you are out in the 'burbs in your little bungalow, Mr. Yuppie lawyer. You play the roll of the great warrior at powwows, but when was the last time you went to a sweat lodge?"

  Cole touched the front of his shirt, seeking the soothing reassurance of his silk tie, but care up with a fistful of cotton. "You're full of crap, Roman."

  "Am I? The name you chose for yourself tells it all. Lonetree. I'm surprised you didn't take the middle initial A. Then you could be Cole A. Lonetree. A for Alienated." Renegade sighed and slung an arm around his shoulders. "You've got a fine family here. This is the real thing, compadre. If you blow this one you'll regret it. Take it from someone who knows."

  * * *

  "Speaking." Katarina juggled the phone on her shoulder as she adjusted Chance's romper.

  "This is Dr. Redcloud from the Rincon Health Service. My niece, Marie, met you at a barbecue several weeks ago at Tanya's."

  "Oh, Marie! Yes, how is she?" Katarina smiled, thinking of the day.

  "She's fine. She mentioned to me that you are a nurse."

  "Well, almost. I'll be graduating in a week or so, if I pass all my finals. Then I'll need to take the R.N. exam."

  "Close enough. How would you like a job?"

  Katarina's hands stilled. "At Rincon?"

  "You could start Monday after graduation."

  She squeezed the snaps closed on Chance's romper and set him on a blanket on the floor. "I'm flattered to be asked, and I wish I could, but Cole's practice… We really can't move."

  Dr. Redcloud sighed. "I was afraid of that. Well, it was worth a shot. Do me a favor?"

  "Of course."

  "Talk to him about it? We would do everything we could to help make the transition. Find you a place to live, a baby-sitter for your son."

  She laughed. "You must really want me."

  "Desperately." Dr. Redcloud laughed, too, but Katarina could hear the seriousness in her voice. "It's not often there's someone qualified who also has connections here at Rincon and might consider us over the big hospitals in the county."

  "Well, I'll let you know what Cole says, but I don't think he'll go for it."

  "I understand, and thanks for thinking about it." After Katarina said her goodbyes, she couldn't help but fantasize about the possibilities. She'd always dreamed of finding a small place in the country. And now with Chance to consider, it sounded even better than before. He could grow up among flowers and fresh air instead of pollution and crime. As she walked to the utility room, she smiled at the image of hanging her wash out on a clothesline to dry in the sun and wind.

  Her smile faded when she couldn't picture Cole's clothes hanging alongside her
own.

  Cole had been unapproachable ever since his friend had dropped in out of nowhere a week ago. Short-tempered and moody, Cole hadn't said more than ten words to her the whole time since. It was so bad that she was actually relieved when he'd gone into the office this morning.

  As she dumped the clothes out of the laundry hamper and sorted them, she wondered sadly what had made Cole so broody. They hadn't even made love since then. She didn't want to think it was her fault, but the change in him was so great she couldn't help thinking it must be. Now that she had given herself to him, had he just gotten tired of her? After seeing his free-and-easy friend, was he regretting having a wife and child to support?

  Picking up one of his cotton shirts, she caught a whiff of perfume. She frowned and put the shirt to her nose. Obsession. Her legs suddenly felt weak. Her hand shook as she ran it over the cotton and then threw the shirt into the washer. She shoved the rest of the whites into the tub. Just because she knew Cole wasn't seeing any clients right now didn't mean a thing. There could be any number of explanations.

  And she wouldn't—couldn't—believe that he had already grown bored after only a few weeks of making love to her, and had found someone else.

  No! There was no one else, she told herself sternly. She was imagining the whole thing. It was just the jealous tendencies caused by David's philandering that were sneaking out again. But she'd learned her lesson. She would not give in to them. Cole was different.

  Resolutely, she poured detergent into the washer and spun the dial. She trusted him. Her husband would never betray her with another woman. He just wouldn't do it.

  Even if he didn't love her.

  * * *

  Cole tugged the soft flannel blanket up to Chance's chin and smoothed a hand over his cheek. The room was dark, as was the whole house, but moonlight poured in through a gap in the curtain. Crickets chirped a homey lullaby outside the window.