WARRIOR'S BRIDE Page 9

  "Oh, Rini." Alex dropped into a chair. "What are you going to do?"

  Laughter echoed through the kitchen door from the living room, where Brad and Kenny were engaged in a rowdy new game on the computer. "I'm going to let him."

  Her sister set her jaw stubbornly. "Then will you at least make him help you financially? So you can finish your degree?"

  Katarina shook her head. "You know I can't ask him for money. Maybe that degree just wasn't meant to be."

  "Honey, you've worked too hard to quit now. All those nights you spent studying till dawn, all those weekends in the library. Your dreams! There has to be a way!"

  "The baby is what's most important."

  "It's just not fair! That bastard." Alex jumped to her feet, banging her fist on the table. "I swear if I ever see him again, I'll kill the man for doing this to you."

  * * *

  Cole squinted at the huge black garbage bag by her door, then looked up at Rini. "Pillows?"

  "Um-hmm. For the childbirth class."

  Grabbing the bag, he shook his head. "If you say so."

  He'd worked hard all week to regain his composure and mental distance from Rini. But in one fell swoop she had his imagination working overtime, trying to figure out just what they'd be doing that involved so damned many pillows. And him with such a healthy imagination.

  Taking in her brightly colored leggings and long angora sweater, he decided she looked especially pretty tonight. He opened the Z's door for her and handed her in, then dumped the bag of pillows into the back on his way to the driver's side. "I thought these classes were just supposed to teach you that breathing stuff. You know, ha ha, he he, ho ho ho."

  She rolled her eyes. "I think you're mixing them up with Santa Claus classes. Must be the season. So, how was the rest of your holiday?"

  He flashed her a wry smile. "Good."

  Except for a slight hangover Christmas morning. He couldn't remember the last time he'd drunk more than two beers at a sitting, and those straight tequilas had wreaked havoc on his stomach and head. "Had dinner with my parents. My mom sends her regards."

  She smiled wistfully. "You're lucky."

  He darted her a suspicious look. "How so?"

  "My mother… Well, your mom sounds really nice."

  "I take it you don't get along with yours."

  She shook her head. "Between Alex and me, we talk to Mama three, maybe four times a year. I can just imagine what she'll have to say when I tell her I'm pregnant."

  "You haven't told her?" He couldn't hide his surprise.

  She sighed. "I can do without the lecture she's sure to give me. She doesn't think much of my ability to make choices, and this will just confirm what she's always told me."

  "And what's that?"

  Rini bit her lip and looked away. "Wouldn't want to bore you with the litany. Like I said, she doesn't think much of my abilities. And she's sure to resent the thought of being a grandmother. She's still in denial over having two daughters who've hit thirty."

  Cole was shocked. He thought about having a mother like that—one who made her own daughter afraid to tell her she was having a baby in less than two months. He couldn't imagine it.

  He glanced over. That might explain the shy, almost disbelieving pleasure Rini'd showed whenever he had complimented her. He had to remind himself to do it more often. Her mother must be blind. Certainly, what he'd experienced of Rini's abilities had warranted compliments, and more.

  Especially the physical ones. Even now, he continued to be plagued by the memory of her silken body under his, moving expertly to the rhythm he'd played on it. What he wouldn't give to be able to experience those particular skills again.

  But that would complicate things. And the situation was already much too complicated for his liking.

  He brought his wayward thoughts back to the conversation. "Well, someday I'm sure your mother will realize what she's missing, and regret it."

  Rini shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe. I'm just glad Alex and I have each other." She pointed to a large private home coming up on the left. "Here we are. This is the house."

  When Cole followed Rini into the family room where the Bradley Method childbirth class would be held, silence fell around him like he was a prisoner taking his last walk down death row. The only sound was the cracking and popping of a fire burning in the corner fireplace. It sounded ominously like a firing squad.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he ignored the guarded stares of the couples scattered around on the floor, and plastered what he hoped was a pleasant expression on his face.

  Rini addressed the group. "Everyone, this is Cole, my baby's father."

  Judging by their expressions, he was definitely a condemned man. "Hi." He glanced around. No change. The four men glared at him suspiciously and their women looked plain angry. One woman sitting by herself in front of the room—presumably the instructor—gave every indication she was about to go into cardiac arrest. Damn, this was going to be a fun evening.

  Rini led him to the closet, where they hung up their coats. She motioned for him to remove his boots and put them next to her shoes.

  "Sorry," she murmured. "The others might be a little hostile. Alex may have mentioned you once or twice. She tends to be a bit—" she lifted her gaze apologetically "—dramatic."

  He turned a lopsided grim on her. "No problem. I'll just be my natural, sweet self and win 'em over in no time."

  She actually snorted. He had the irrational urge to pinch her butt in retaliation as she turned to look for a space on the floor where they could sit. He jammed his thumbs into his jeans pockets. Jeez, he had to control these primitive impulses.

  Baring his teeth in the smile he always used for judges about to ream him out for a courtroom transgression, he helped Rini to sit, then squatted down beside her.

  She leaned over and whispered, "Relax, Lonetree. It's not a lynch mob."

  "Tell them that." His cheek muscles already hurt from holding his smile in place.

  "Pretend you like me. I know it's a stretch, but it could help your case."

  He glanced over at her as he settled onto the floor Indian style. She was serious. He supposed he had been trying so hard to keep his distance that she might really think he didn't like her. If only she knew.

  He slid a hand onto her thigh and winked. "All right."

  Her eyes grew wide, fastening first on his hand, them his grin. A soft flush crept up her neck. He knew instantly the move had been a mistake. Her flesh was warm and firm under her thin leggings, and his hand was suddenly seized with a will of its own. In a barely discernible movement, his thumb began kneading the slight hollow just above her knee.

  He watched her tongue peek out and moisten her upper lip, then retreat hastily.

  A big mistake.

  Aw, hell.

  He suddenly realized the instructor was speaking to him. A few of the others chuckled knowingly. "Uh, sorry, what?"

  "I'm Linda. We're glad you could make it, Cole. Have you been doing any of the reading?" Her blood pressure appeared to have come down considerably since his unexpected entrance.

  He glanced at Rini. "Uh, no. Didn't realize—"

  "That's okay. Just follow along as best you can. The method is fairly simple. The role of the father is mostly to encourage the mother and make her comfortable. We'll start out with a little theory and then move on to the relaxation exercises."

  Linda went on to explain, with charts, exactly what happened during the three stages of labor. Cole was fascinated, and when the lecture was over he found himself thigh-to-thigh with Rini, his arm nestled familiarly between her leg and the baby. His other hand had crossed over his lap to continue rubbing her knee.

  He closed his eyes, instincts warring with common sense. It was one thing to create an illusion for the benefit of the other couples, quite another to relax into the role. On the other hand, it wouldn't do to pull back now and spoil the effect. Not just because he was breaking out in a sweat.

  "R
emember, the very worst part of labor is that ten to twenty minute transition between getting your body ready to deliver and actually starting to push. If you can make it through those few minutes without any anesthesia, the pushing part will be much easier because you won't have all those drugs numbing your muscles."

  Cole looked at Rini, not envying her the coming experience one bit. Still, he'd really like to be there. He wondered if she would mind.

  "And dads, be sure to check the time when transition starts, so you can help her through it. Okay, once more, when do you look at the clock?"

  "When she starts swearing and calling us names," the men chanted in unison, snickering.

  Linda grinned. "Right. Or she says she's changed her mind and doesn't want kids." She looked at her watch. "Okay, everyone, break time!"

  The couples rose and stretched, then wandered over to a table that held a couple carafes of juice and some plates of healthy-looking snack squares. He grimaced. Not a cup of coffee in sight. Sighing, he filled two cups with pink stuff he was sure would prove lethal, and stepped over to where Rini stood conversing with a couple of the women. He offered her one of the cups.

  "Thanks. Cole, this is Valerie and Liz."

  They exchanged greetings. Valerie looked vaguely intrigued, but Liz seemed resentful of his presence.

  "So, are you two an item now?" Valerie tipped her head curiously.

  Cole glanced at Rini. "Um, we're still working things through."

  Liz sneered. "Just like a man. Refusing to take responsibility."

  Cole set his jaw. "I—"

  Rini jumped in. "Not at all. He's being very helpful." She looked at him pleadingly.

  He forced the corners of his mouth up. He didn't want to make trouble for Rini, so he said, "We both want what's best for the baby."

  "I'll just bet." Liz rolled her eyes.

  His temper flared. "What's—"

  "Cole, I'm feeling a little hungry." Rini looped her arm around his elbow and tugged. "Let's check out those granola squares, okay? Excuse us." She pulled him forcibly toward the snack table. "Sorry about that," she muttered, snagging the first food item she laid a hand on.

  "What was her problem?" he demanded around a piece of frosted carrot bar, which Rini stuffed into his mouth as soon as he opened it. He chewed, swallowed and, with his tongue, worked loose a walnut that had jammed between two teeth. "Attacking me like that—"

  "I thought you Native Americans were supposed to be all stoic and harmonious." Scowling, she crammed another bite between his lips, but this time he caught her wrist in his hand and held it.

  "Only after we've tied the person annoying us to an anthill and poured honey over her." He flicked his tongue out and licked a spot of frosting off Rini's forefinger before dropping her hand.

  Then silently cursed himself. Hell, he was getting into dangerous territory again.

  But there was just something about having a woman feed him that turned him on in the worst way. Resolutely, he slugged down the dregs of his pink stuff. He almost choked on it when Rini put the remainder of the carrot bar into her mouth, forefinger and all, and licked the remaining crumbs off the moisture he had left there with his own tongue.

  His expression must have given him away, because she suddenly looked at her forefinger, blushed furiously, and snatched up a napkin from the table to finish the job.

  Mercifully, she hurriedly excused herself to use the rest room, so he had a chance to regain his self-possession. Between the hostile natives and the guilelessly sensual mother of his child, if he made it through the evening without some kind of major screw-up it would be a pure damned miracle.

  It was when she climbed into his lap a few minutes later that he knew with dead certainty no miracle would be forthcoming anytime soon.

  "Relaxation," Linda the instructor called it.

  Torture was the term he'd use.

  He was supposed to sit on the floor with Rini encircled by his legs, her knees resting against his, her back to him. Her body pressed up so close to his there wasn't even enough space between them for an illusion.

  Linda had turned out all the lamps, so the only light came from the crackling fire and the moonlight pouring in from outside. She spoke softly. "Let's start out by feeling where the baby is. Rini, you'll have to show Cole how to do this."

  He felt Rini draw in a breath, hesitating. Then she gently guided his hands to her stomach, and, whispering what he was feeling, traced over the baby with his fingers.

  Her angora sweater was downy soft under his fingertips, the baby warm and round. Unbelievably, he could feel his son's head, and his bottom, and a plump arm and fist that shifted to keep up with his touch when Cole's hand would have moved on. His throat closed around a lump, and for a moment he was sure he would lose it completely.

  Oh, God.

  Rini let her head fall back against his shoulder, and relaxed against him while he fought the watermelon in his throat and stroked his son's arm.

  He was barely aware of Linda's voice quietly telling the couples to visualize the baby beneath their hands, that they should remember this moment when things got rough during delivery. That this was why they were going through the whole birth ordeal—to be able to sit like this afterward, with their baby in their arms. Cole stared up at the firelight shadows flickering on the ceiling, wishing the moment would never end.

  When it did, and Linda instructed the dads to get the pillows for the next exercise, he was able to meet the quiet smiles of acknowledgment from the other men. Affirmations of the emotional experience they had shared, of the love they were feeling. A love for the families they were all becoming.

  As he dragged the bag of pillows over to her, Cole thought about Rini and where she fit into his equation of family. Would it be possible to be on the best of terms with her after he had made it clear he wouldn't, couldn't, include her in that equation on more than a superficial level?

  Truth be told, right at the moment he didn't much feel like excluding her at all. His lap and chest were still warm from her body heat; his arms still carried the memory of her within their embrace. And he realized, to his sorrow if not exactly his surprise, that he liked her. He liked her a lot. He liked her quiet determination, her serenity in adversity, her little flares of temper, her affectionate nature.

  He watched her arrange the pillows in a line on the floor and then lie down on her side next to them, bending her top arm and leg over their soft bulk. It was as close to being on her stomach as a more-than-seven-months-pregnant woman could manage. She turned her head and looked up at him, smiling. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light, and his heart almost broke.

  This was his Fire Eyes. The woman he'd gladly lie down with and spend the rest of his life loving. How could this woman and that other woman—the one who'd heartlessly abandoned him and thought about doing the same to their child—be one and the same?

  Sadly, he returned her smile, then followed Linda's instructions and took his place behind her. His head shot up at the teacher's next word.

  Massage.

  He was expected to give Rini a back rub. He felt his wits slip precariously. It had been bad enough running his hands over her stomach. But at least he'd had the baby to concentrate on. Now there would be nothing but Rini under his hands.

  This was not at all what he'd expected from a childbirth class. He remembered countless TV sitcoms depicting the crazy antics of hyperventilating expectant couples.

  Linda effectively quashed that image, firmly declaring that Bradley moms did not breathe, they relaxed. She next instructed everyone to visualize the cresting waves of a beautiful ocean and to imagine the waves as contractions. The moms were supposed to float over the pain on a visual cushion of conscious relaxation. Yeah, right. His own role in that process would be to watch for and alert Rini to signs of tension, to massage her aching muscles in between contractions and to whisper loving words of encouragement when she didn't think she could go on.

  Sounded simple enough. Until he
laid his hands on her and drew a long, shuddering sigh from deep inside her. Aw, hell. How could a red-blooded man possibly resist a reaction like that to his touch? It brought to mind the time she'd had an even more potent reaction to him—the first time he'd thrust himself deep inside her. The memory of her sweet physical disintegration coursed through his blood and heated him as nothing else could have.

  He gently brushed her hair over her shoulder and leaned into his sensual task. While Linda timed simulated contractions, Rini visualized relaxing through them. In between, Cole's hands found the sensitive muscles in her back and sides, and his mouth murmured words meant to soothe and reassure. Words that, in his present mood, quickly took on an erotic edge.

  Her body warmed under his hands, and a light flush settled on her cheeks. Rather than slow, her heartbeat picked up, the pulse in her graceful neck throbbing erratically. He felt her body arch imperceptibly under his fingers, and a breathless sound came from her throat. Her eyes flew open for a second and she frowned, no doubt reminding herself to concentrate on the exercise.

  He took it as a delicious challenge to break down her resolve not to surrender to the magic of his fingers. It didn't take long to melt her resistance into soft moans of pleasure.

  God, he wanted her.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

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  Rini couldn't bring herself to look at Cole during the ride back home. Her body was on fire. Her mind was horrified. How could she have let this happen? Honest to God, she'd tried to resist him. She'd done everything possible to ignore his sensual caresses, to concentrate on imaginary contractions. But he'd seemed to know exactly where and how to touch her to make her completely forget it was just an exercise.

  Every nerve ending still hummed. She glanced down at her breasts—their peaks tight knots of longing at the vivid memory of how good his hands felt on her—wishing those hands would touch her there. Her body shivered in frustration.

  "Cold?" Cole glanced over at her from behind the wheel, his gaze guarded. "I can turn up the heat."

  She nearly choked. No argument there. "No. I'm plenty warm enough, thanks." But she was just plain dreaming if she thought he had any interest in her beyond the physical. His carefully neutral expression spoke volumes. She sighed. It was just as well. Any attraction to Cole was undoubtedly just her heart grasping at a last, desperate straw—hoping there was some way she could have this baby without sacrificing both his and her own futures in the process. But her future wasn't going to be with Cole, and she knew it.