WARRIOR'S BRIDE Read online

  What a fool she'd been! What an utter, utter fool! How could she have been so taken in by the man? Spinning fancy hopes and dreams about this handsome stranger, when all he wanted was a few hours of pleasure.

  Would she never learn? Tears streaming down her face, she'd run all the way to her car and driven away without speaking to him.

  Katarina's eyes stung now as she remembered the deep shame she had felt on that fateful day seven months ago.

  Cole's hands moved over her hair, snapping her back to the present with a start.

  Lord, what was she doing, standing so close to him, his hands cradling her head, their baby nestled between them? Letting him kiss her? Would she never learn?

  Desperately, she tried to take a step backward.

  "Why did you run away?" he repeated quietly, holding her fast.

  But this was all wrong. The hurt in his voice sounded genuine. The anguish in his face. How could that be? She was the one who had been humiliated that day, not him! And he'd do it again if she wasn't careful. She had to be strong. For her baby as well as for herself. With determined hands, she pushed him away just as the door opened.

  * * *

  Cole dropped his grip on Rini and stepped away from her, grateful for the timely interruption when the nurse bustled into the exam room and began tidying up.

  What the hell had come over him?

  Ruthlessly, he suppressed all trace of the kaleidoscope of emotions that had tipped him off-kilter for the past few minutes. He had to get a grip.

  He still wanted an answer to his question. But maybe if he was in familiar territory he wouldn't be so susceptible to the lure of her. Pulling a business card from his inside jacket pocket, he pressed it into her hand.

  "This isn't the place for this conversation. If you want to continue it, come by my office. Anytime." He strode to the door. "If not, I'll be in touch to find out when your next appointment is."

  Cole hurried out and down the hallway, not stopping until he was safely ensconced in the Camaro with the motor revved and the windows rolled up tight. He heaved a sigh, leaning his head against the back of the seat. He felt gut shot.

  Damn, what had he gone and done now? He wondered how she felt about their kiss. About him.

  Not that he cared, he reminded himself.

  But the woman must have some sort of uncanny power over him. How could a simple kiss nearly reduce his determination to dust? His face still tingled from the caress of her hair. He'd literally had to force himself to step back instead of keeping her in his arms and dragging her home with him.

  He stifled a groan.

  He was finding it difficult to ignore all the things that had won him over seven months earlier. Beauty, certainly. But it was more than that. She had a quiet strength—one he wasn't even sure she was aware of, veiled as it was by a cloak of incredible vulnerability. He couldn't help but notice how surprised and bewildered she'd been at every little kindness shown her, before she'd retreated behind her anger. Almost as if she didn't think she was worthy.

  He shook his head, clearing it of his wayward thoughts. He couldn't let himself think like this or he'd be lost. She'd fooled him once, but he'd be damned if he'd let it happen again.

  She'd left him for no reason, abandoned him after everything they'd shared that night. And deny it though she might, she had also thought about abandoning their baby. She must have, to have been there in Henderson's office at all. It didn't matter that she'd apparently changed her mind. How could a woman even consider doing something like that?

  There was no way he could ever sympathize with a woman who would seriously think about giving away her child. And he certainly couldn't love someone like that. He sat up and ground the Z into gear. He would never, ever let his son grow up knowing he wasn't wanted by his own mother or father.

  As he had.

  Even if Rini didn't love or want their baby, he did. So she just may as well get used to the idea of him being around. He would not abandon his own child. Not as long as there was a single breath left in his body.

  * * *

  Katarina peered up at the number on the shabby brick building in Old Town Pasadena and shrugged. Hardly the office style she expected for Colton Lonetree, considering the suits he wore and the shiny new convertible he drove. But then again, maybe he only spent money on himself. He wouldn't be the first man she'd known who did that.

  She pulled into an empty spot a block away and trudged back, then groaned at the discovery that there was no elevator to his third floor office. It figured.

  Why she had come was beyond her. Obviously, it was some sort of pregnancy-induced feeblemindedness. But she had to find out what Colton Lonetree wanted from her. He'd served her with notice of intent to block the adoption he was certain she was pursuing, and had hinted about claiming his paternal rights. Then he'd shown up at Dr. Morris's office yesterday, checking up on her. Obviously he didn't believe she was keeping the baby. She'd have to convince him she was.

  But then what? What would he want from her then?

  This had to be about his heritage. If she promised he could see the child and teach him about Native American culture, maybe he'd be satisfied.

  Unless it wasn't about his heritage.

  But what else could it be?

  Her sister, Alex, was convinced he wanted to sue for custody. He knew how poor Katarina was; he knew that she had no job and little hope of completing her degree when the baby arrived. He was a rich lawyer who wouldn't want his child growing up like that. She had no money to hire her own attorney. Lonetree would surely win and take her baby away from her.

  Katarina gripped the railing, fighting the feeling of helplessness that threatened to envelop her. It had been impossible to imagine handing over her child to her own sister. How would it feel to be forced to give him to a virtual stranger?

  No! It wouldn't happen. It couldn't.

  Taking a deep breath, she remembered the expression of joy and wonder on Cole's face as he'd listened to the baby's heartbeat and watched the sonogram monitor. She thought of her own father and how much he'd loved his two girls.

  She let out her breath slowly. Maybe Cole wasn't a heartless brute. Maybe he really loved and wanted the baby.

  What would she do then?

  Catching her breath on the second floor landing, she leaned back against the wall for a moment. But no matter what happened, she could not allow herself to succumb to the lure of Colton Lonetree. That would be inviting disaster.

  She recalled with mortification her reaction to him when he'd kissed her yesterday. Making her yearn for more, longing to relive the soothing touch of his hands and the warm feel of his skin against hers.

  Pregnancy must have scrambled her hormones as well as her brains. Being attracted to him was not an option. Even if he was the father of her child. And even if she had once lain down with him and shared such a profound experience that she'd come away ready to risk everything to be with him.

  Until she'd found out exactly what kind of a man he was.

  Apparently, she had a weakness for handsome, sweet-talking cheats who wanted to control her life. She'd spent her childhood trying to please a scornful, overbearing mother, and it seemed that when she grew up she unheedingly fell for men who would take her mother's place without missing a beat.

  Well, never again. This time she'd truly learned her lesson. She didn't need or want another man like her mother. Katarina was making her own choices now, and she didn't have to please a blessed soul except herself and her baby.

  She'd see Colton Lonetree, demand to know what he wanted and then march right out of there. Okay, waddle out, she conceded, and firmly squelched an unwanted spark of anticipation at seeing him again.

  She puffed up the remaining flight and was greeted by a tidy room, painted a warm adobe hue, with hardwood floors polished to a lustrous shine. On the walls hung several groupings of black-and-white photos of Indian country. Behind a big old, scarred desk piled high with papers and computer eq
uipment sat a young man.

  He looked up impassively. "Can I help you?"

  "I'm looking for Colton Lonetree."

  "He doesn't want to be disturbed." The young man went back to his work, apparently unperturbed that she didn't move.

  "Will he be free anytime son?"

  He shrugged. "Dunno."

  Katarina tapped her foot in frustration, wondering if the man was being deliberately rude or was just an idiot.

  "I'm Katarina Herelius. He said I should drop by his office. He said anytime. Could you tell him I'm here?"

  "Doesn't want to be disturbed."

  She was just about to bean him over the head with the phone and stalk into the inner office uninvited when the door opened and Cole stuck his head out.

  "Charlie, could you please get me— Rini!"

  She edged toward him. "I probably should have called first."

  His expression traveled from shocked surprise to cool and professional in about two nanoseconds. "No problem. Come on in."

  Smoothing his tie, he opened the door wide, and she barely resisted smirking at the man behind the desk as she walked past.

  "Where did you get Mr. Personality?" she asked when Cole had closed the door.

  He chuckled. "Camarillo." Prison! He shrugged at her gasp. "Assault with a deadly weapon."

  She covered her eyes. "Terrific."

  "Charlie's a great photographer and a passable receptionist. Just needed a little direction in life."

  Oh, brother. The man had a hardened criminal for a secretary. Her already sagging optimism slipped a little more.

  Katarina ventured farther into Lonetree's office. Light poured through two large fanlight windows, reflecting off the Berber carpeting, bathing the room in a pink glow. Comfortably worn sofas and chairs surrounded a low-slung, battered wooden table half the size of Nebraska. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with a jumble of law books, paperbacks, magazines and stereo equipment.

  "Jeez. You live here?"

  "Seems like it sometimes." He walked to his ancient oak desk at the back of the room and closed some files, then went to the wet bar behind it. "Tea? I've got mint and chamomile."

  "Mint would be great, thanks."

  Lonetree's jacket was off and his long white sleeves were rolled up to just under his elbows. His silk tie hung loose around his neck and suede moccasins encased his feet. When he bent over to pull a ceramic teapot from beneath the wet bar, Katarina was assailed by a vision of his breechclout fluttering around his athletic thighs as he dipped and swooped in his hop dance at the powwow.

  This had to stop. She would not let herself be swayed by the man's flawlessly masculine body.

  Turning abruptly, she tossed her purse on one of the sofas, then wandered over to a collection of Native American garments he had mounted on the long wall opposite the windows. "These are beautiful."

  "Thanks," he answered, punching buttons on a microwave.

  "Do you collect them?" Her attention was captured by a quill chest plate, identical to the one he had worn at the powwow. She stood very still in front of it, memories washing over her. Barely aware of what she was doing, she reached out slowly, as if by touching it some of the magic of that night would rub off. Magic she badly needed.

  She'd forgotten she'd asked the question when his answer sounded quietly, right behind her.

  "I make them."

  She jerked her hand back and whirled to face him, her breath quick with surprise. "Oh! Really?"

  The look in his eyes was wary, possessive, almost predatory. He watched her for several long seconds before breaking the charged silence. "Kind of a hobby of mine."

  He was standing close. Much too close. Sexual awareness crackled through her body, completing her misery.

  She shouldn't have come. She didn't want to think of Colton Lonetree as a man at all, but preferred to keep him firmly in the neutral role of attorney, or better yet, heartless brute. Slipping past him, she went to one of the couches and sat down.

  She bit her lip, picking imaginary lint off her knee-length sweater. "Did you make the costume you wore that day?"

  He crossed to the table and started pouring tea into earthenware mugs. "Regalia. Yes, I made them."

  Picking up her mug, she said resignedly, "So I can blame all this on your hobby, then."

  He looked up as he took a seat across from her. "My hobby?"

  "It was that damned outfit—sorry, regalia." She smiled wryly. "Maybe if you hadn't looked quite so sexy, I wouldn't have been so easily seduced that day."

  His eyebrow lifted in amusement. "Miss Herelius, I am shocked. You don't strike me as the type who would fall for just another pretty face."

  "Oh, it wasn't your face I—" She snapped her mouth shut. Good Lord, what he must think. "I mean…"

  The corners of his lips curved up as he watched her expectantly. He was obviously savoring every word.

  "I mean I fell for the whole man, Mr. Lonetree. Hook, line and sinker—fool that I am. But I might never have noticed you if you hadn't been quite so … so … noticeable."

  He took a sip of tea, his gaze heating her skin. "Because of my outfit."

  She picked up a magazine from the table and fanned her face lightly, cursing herself for getting into this topic. Was it warm in here, or what? "More like because of your lack of an outfit."

  He smiled, and his eyes crinkled up. She watched, fascinated, as the already handsome man became utterly devastating. Like the pirate he was, he stole the very breath from her lungs. The magazine fell to the table. It was all she could do to hang on to her tea mug.

  "Miss Herelius, you certainly know how to inflate a man's ego. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were buttering me up for something."

  She carefully put down her mug and straightened her spine, avoiding his eyes. "Certainly not. We're both adults. Anything we have to say, I assume we can say straight out."

  He nodded through the steam rising from his tea. The smile disappeared. "I'm glad you decided to accept the offer to help financially. There is no reason this should be anything less than amicable."

  Then why did the room feel suddenly cold?

  "That's true."

  "I'm the baby's father. I only want what's best for him. Nothing more."

  Silence fell and moments ticked by as she gathered the courage to speak, watching her own fingers knit and unravel themselves in her lap. "Please, Cole, what is it you want from me? Exactly?" She held her breath.

  He got to his feet and looked stonily down at her, then stalked to the window and surveyed the traffic below. "I want my child."

  Katarina wrung her hands. Could Alex be right? "I promise you can be a part of his life. You can see him, teach him about his heritage. I'll even sign papers giving you that right." She rushed on. "I know you don't think—"

  Lonetree rounded on her. His eyes narrowed to slits. "If you're so interested in sharing so much with me, why did you run off that day? Why did I have to find out about my child six months after the fact?"

  She nearly gasped at the ferocity of his accusation. Old fears nearly sucked her into their suffocating embrace. She battled in her mind, defending what she had done, fighting like hell against the tears that threatened to burst forth. "You know damned well why I ran away."

  Rising clumsily, she grabbed her purse. She had to get out of there before she made things worse. Before she made a fool of herself all over again.

  He blocked her path to the door. "Let's say I don't." His gaze bored into her. "Enlighten me."

  Katarina felt a tear spill over her lashes, and dashed at it angrily. She hated feeling like this. Guilty, powerless, confused, like every choice she made was wrong, wrong, wrong. She knew she was right, but Lord help her, the man wasn't going to give her an inch.

  Lonetree reached out and grasped her arms. His grip was firm, his shuttered expression insistent. "Please."

  Another warm tear sluiced down the trail left by the first. She lowered her eyes, feeling ashamed and
somehow at fault. Defeated. "All those women," she whispered. Her voice caught. "I know you never promised me a thing. Lord knows I probably got what I deserved. But it still hurt. I couldn't watch you pick up your next conquest."

  She glanced up in time to see shock lingering on Cole's face. His fingers tightened around her arms. She tried to shake him off, but he held firm, bald emotion racing across his features. His mouth opened and then closed again, nothing coming out.

  "It wasn't right, Cole."

  Those words apparently broke through to him. His eyes unglazed. "My God." His lingers loosened their grip. "Are you saying you thought I was … that I was chasing those women?"

  She nodded morosely, pulling away and rubbing her arms.

  His hands went to his temples. "How could you think that? After everything we—"

  Turning away, she shook her head. "I've bad lots of experience recognizing the maneuvers."

  "Rini, I—"

  She held up a hand. "Don't. I've heard them all, believe me." Cole couldn't stand seeing anguish extinguish the fire in Rini's eyes.

  "It's not true." He ached to hold her close and reassure her. "Not true." To take things back to what they might have been. Before…

  Moving slowly toward her, he lifted his hand, wanting to touch her cheek. "The only woman I was thinking about that morning was you, Rini."

  She edged backward toward the door, avoiding him, until he'd nearly backed her up against it. She stared at him, her fingers clutching at the fabric of her sweater. His heart sank. She must think he was some kind of monster.

  But, surely, it's not like this every time? No? How would it be?

  Her eyes squeezed shut, and he could see her bottom lip tremble. His stomach grazed hers, large with his child, and her eyes flew open. For an endless moment their gazes locked. He took a deep breath and smelled a hint of gardenia, mingled with her sensual woman's scent—the scent that had haunted him for so many lonely months.

  Need and regret slammed into him, filling his body with a longing he couldn't ever remember feeling before. He needed to taste her. To fill the aching void in his soul with the light she had given him that spring day seven months ago.