Harlequin Romance Bundle: Crowns and Cowboys

by Judy Christenberry

  “I want to make things right. I’m responsible for your life change,” he replied, needing to be honest with her. “And what I don’t want is for my child to think I didn’t marry his mother because I didn’t want him.”

  She jerked her arm out of his grip and lifted her chin, proud, wilful Laila Robbins to the end. “I will consider marrying you the day you can look me in the face and honestly tell me you’re happy about it—that my baby and I are something more to you than messes to clean up. Not a day earlier. If I’m single—or still alive—by then,” she added, with cynical smile.

  “It isn’t just your baby. It’s mine, too.” He grabbed her hand to stop her leaving, trying to ignore the sweetness of even her most reluctant touch. “This conversation would be easier if you’d think about what’s best for the baby.”

  “You think I’m worried about me?” She turned back to stare at him, a frown between her brows. “You really don’t get it. What do you think is best for the baby? A set of wedding rings is only best for our child if he can see the love and commitment between his parents. If he can’t, he’ll only blame himself for a situation he didn’t create.”

  He dragged in a breath. She’d just described his childhood, in stark detail—the unplanned product of a brief affair turned into a quickie wedding, and the unhappy transplanting of a city girl to remote outback. And the child who’d always felt responsible every time they’d fought. If he hadn’t been born…

  “You keep saying ‘he,’” Jake said, for the sake of something to say.

  A tiny smile flitted across her face. “I know he’s a boy.”

  He didn’t argue. Jenny had been sure their child was a girl—and she’d been right.

  He’d delivered the baby in their bed during a wild storm, while Jenny floated in and out of consciousness. The hospital was a five-hour drive away, the Flying Doctors couldn’t land or contact him by radio, and he was all she had. That was the reality of life in the Outback: no towns or city conveniences like good roads, close schools or hospitals. Most about-to-be Outback mums moved into the nearest hospital town four weeks before the birth. He and Jenny had had the hotel booked, ready to go.

  But Jenny had fallen off the chair, precipitating early labor when he was hours away, getting cattle into the trucks for sale. When he’d finally reached home, Jenny was a heap on the nursery floor, unconscious and bleeding, the storm raging overhead.

  He’d tried desperately to remain focused on saving his wife and baby, but working with Jenny’s blood all over his hands kept tossing his thoughts around like the freak winds outside. He watched her slipping away from him, helpless to stop it, even though he’d followed every procedure in the fully stocked medical chest the Flying Doctors gave to every isolated property in Australia.

  He’d always be glad Jenny had seen Annabel once before she died. She’d been born only minutes before the Flying Doctors ran in—a minute too late for Jenny. Their tiny daughter’s lungs hadn’t been developed enough. She’d lived on a ventilator for five days at the Charleville Base Hospital, then quietly slipped away.

  “See? You can’t even smile about having a son.” Laila tugged hard on his hand, until he released her. “I won’t be part of a marriage that would be more like a tragedy.”

  He started out of his memories. Here and now he had a child on the way, and he would not let history repeat! He’d be there for Laila, for his son, every day and every night, every hour. “I want the baby,” he said, low and intense. “I mean that.”

  Her laugh was short and harsh. “I can see that—but you don’t want me. I get it. I got that point when you sprinted from my bed like an Olympian.” She opened the stall gate. “Things have changed for me as well. I thought there was more to you than the cold loner you presented. I thought you needed a friend as well as a lover. I was wrong. Right now you couldn’t pay me enough to take vows with you.”

  He opened his mouth, then shut it. He’d made a mull of everything he’d said to her since her fatal words I’m pregnant—but he couldn’t acknowledge it. There was too much at risk here.

  His child. This was a blessing—a miracle he thought he’d never have a chance to know again. No way was he going to let this mother and child down. He couldn’t lose them.

  “The life of a single parent is harder than you can imagine,” he said quietly, feeling his way to what he wanted to say. Maybe a back-door approach would help—and his dad wouldn’t have minded his experience being told.

  The look she slanted at him was full of irony. “You might not think so, but I’ve been single so far by choice. Most men seem to find me attractive, and are happy to spend time with me. Baby or not, you’re kidding yourself if you think I’ll be single for life.”

  The vision flashed in his mind: pretty Laila, with all her feisty, giving sweetness, in another man’s life, giving all that joy, all that life, to some other guy…

  Laila, in a pool of blood, losing the baby because he wasn’t there to save her—

  The mere thought stabbed straight into his heart.

  “You will not have this child alone, Laila,” he growled. “Whether you marry me or not, I’m going to be with you from now on, day and night. I will not leave you.”

  She only laughed, in tired cynicism. It seemed he’d done a very thorough job of turning her off him. She didn’t want to know him now.

  He couldn’t let it lie. No matter how noble his intentions had been before, no matter what reasons he’d had for driving her away, he refused to let her do the same. Laila was the mother of his child. Come drought, famine or flood, he’d be there for them both.

  She was going to have to deal with the reality of him living in her face. He’d make sure this mother, this baby would live—but he wanted more. He would have all legal rights to his son. His child would have the Sutherland name, and all the privileges it entailed.

  Even if that means going back home to Burrabilla?

  Burrabilla. Where Jenny died.

  He felt sick thinking about it but—could he do it, for the sake of his son’s life and heritage? Could he face his wall of dark ghosts…even see Jenny’s family?

  Right now, he didn’t know; but he felt a glow in his heart—a feeling he hadn’t known for more than five long years. No matter how it came about, he was going to be a daddy.

  There was no way he’d take that miracle for granted this time. He’d make sure Laila was safe, that the baby came into the world safe and at the right time—and he was going to be a daily part of his child’s life, no matter what. He wanted to be there to read bedtime stories, to see their first step, their first tooth…to hear those first, lisping words. No way would he handle being an every-second-weekend dad—and his child shouldn’t have to put up with second best. He owed his child that.

  It all came down to Laila. He had to find a way to make her marry him; but so far his words were only alienating her.

  Yet he’d won her over the night they’d made love, without saying a word…so maybe he should put his mouth to a better use—one Laila seemed to appreciate a few months ago.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE look on his face alerted Laila, just as he leaned in. He wanted to seduce her into accepting his proposal—and she was terrified he’d win.

  She hated him…at least, she wanted to hate him…but she was horribly afraid she didn’t. Could the fascination still blast her from her feet, and her certainty that marriage to a man who didn’t love them both would ruin her life—and the baby’s?

  She had to resist the look in his eyes as he leaned toward her, his burning-hot gaze fixed on her mouth. And she would resist, in a moment…

  Next thing she knew she was lying on the hay, not knowing whether she was escaping his touch or surrendering to it—and she didn’t know if she cared. Jake leaned into her, with a glow of satisfaction in eyes now dark gold. With the tiniest curve of his mouth, not enough to be a smile—more like a look of triumph—that incredible mouth came down on hers.

  Desperate
to fight him, she pushed on his chest to get up, like he was a fence or a wall she could use; but with the tiniest touch of his finger under her chin, her lips parted, wanting, needing the kiss she relived in her bed every night. With the lightest movement of his lips on hers, she moaned, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him down to her. Oh, the joy of having him close, having his warmth, his hands and mouth touching her again, making her feel so feminine, so alive, after months of wondering if she’d ever find a way.

  He moved over her, one hand caressing her cheek and throat, the other tangled in her hair. His mouth was light, clinging, exquisite in unexpected tenderness—

  Without any of the despairing need he’d been driven by the first time.

  If there was only one thing she knew about Jake, it was the desire to live she’d felt burning just beneath the surface of the rigid control he projected. He always seemed to refuse to give in to that need—but then it had burst to life the last time he’d touched her.

  It wasn’t there now. The rigid control she hated had taken its place; he gave only to her, accepting no passion or tenderness in return.

  Much as she longed to, she couldn’t fool herself into thinking this meant he’d developed feelings for her. She was the means to getting the one thing he did want.

  Though she yearned for nothing more than to lose reality in the drifting passion he’d engendered in her, she forced herself to move. She pushed him off hard enough to make him fall back into the hay. She jumped to her feet, staring down at him. “You hypocrite, using me to get what you want. Well, here’s a news flash for you—I don’t need this. I don’t need you.” She got to her feet and stared down at him with all the contempt she could muster.

  After a moment, he followed her to his feet. “You’re right. The last thing you might need is a man like me in your life—but you should have thought of that before the night of the party. You’re stuck with me now. You’re the mother of my child. I will be his father, Laila, whether you like it or not—whether you like me or not,” he said, his full, sensual mouth turned down.

  The grim words snapped her out of her fury. He was staring down into her face, in the soft, unfocused light that marked the beginning of sunset—but even in the gentle gloom, she could see the blazing self-hate in those amazing amber-gold depths, making her rethink the little she knew about this enigma of a man.

  “I never said you couldn’t be his father, Jake. You can see him whenever you want—”

  “No.” The word was harsh, uncompromising. “I won’t be a second-weekend, come-for-school-concerts or visit-for-dinner dad. I will be his father day and night. Every day and night.”

  Shocked, she stared at him. This level of commitment was the last thing she’d expected. “It won’t happen.”

  He looked into her eyes, dark, blazing, intense. “It will. That’s a promise. If you don’t marry me, I’ll move in next door to wherever you go, or across the street. I will be there for you—and for my child.”

  He said he’d be there for me as well as the baby. He put me first…

  Her rebel mind briefly wondered how he’d look if he ever smiled; and by natural progression, the memory came. She’d never forget how exquisite it felt to have that beautiful mouth locked against hers in the white-hot depths of passion—the passion she’d only glimpsed in those dead-and-blazing-alive eyes that night.

  Would she ever know such passion again?

  “You may not like me, but I swear to you now, Laila, by all I hold sacred, that I won’t let my child down. I won’t let you down again.”

  The passion in his vow scattered her thoughts, and sent her focus straight back to the here and now; because some deep instinct told her that he meant every word.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. She’d thought he’d cut and run as he had the night after they’d made love, but he’d just made a solemn vow to stand by her—

  Oh, how she hated the weakness! With a touch, a kind word, he could make her feel so tempted to accept that broad shoulder to lean on, to know that if she married him, at least she wouldn’t be smothered by a man who loved her too much—

  Or at all. He only wants the baby. I’d be married to a man who wouldn’t give me the love I need, but who wouldn’t let me go.

  She felt every Robbins forebear, tough and unyielding as the land they lived and died on, ranging behind her back as she fought him—and her own weakness. She would not accept less than the life and love she needed…that their baby would need.

  “I don’t see why we’re complicating this,” she said with a casual air she prayed wasn’t overdone. “You needed to know about the baby, so I told you. I don’t need to be protected or supported. Maybe I could get back to my life in Bathurst by next term, and ask for late exams. You stay here on the land, doing your thing. I’ll call you when you’re a daddy.”

  Silence fell on them like the shimmering waves of late-afternoon, almost-summer heat surrounding the warm barn. The quiet was tense, anxious. The anticipation sat on her like the aura of dry heat everywhere. Unable to stand it, she opened her eyes.

  Jake just stared at her, as if she’d said something profound, or stunning.

  “You don’t need to worry about me,” she insisted, feeling as if Jake were waiting for the rest of what she had to say. “Go on with your work. I’ll be fine on my own.”

  Then, with shocking suddenness, the unease shattered with the sound of hard-edged laughter. Jake was holding his sides with the gusts of uncontrollable mirth—but it wasn’t a happy sound. “Oh, that’s good,” he gasped. “That’s just precious. The perfect irony.” He kept laughing, oblivious to her reaction. “So God has a sense of humor, after all.”

  She’d wanted to know how he looked when he smiled—but this felt too poignant, too sad. He wasn’t laughing—it was too cynical and self-hating for that—and it made her heart bleed for him. What had happened to this man?

  She had to harden her heart to force the words out. “What did I say that was so funny?”

  He shook his head as if clearing it, as if just remembering she was there. The laughter died from his face before he gave a soft, muffled curse. “It wasn’t you—it’s the warped full circle coming back to complete the circus that’s my life.”

  He didn’t volunteer anything more, and she knew he wouldn’t. His self-hate had obviously been a party of one for a long time, and he wouldn’t let anyone else in the door. But he refused to walk out on his child.

  How could that kind of marriage ever be the right thing? After seeing Dar and Marcie’s happiness, and seeing Danni make any guy interested in her jump through hoops to just get a date, she knew two things: she wouldn’t take less than the best and she wouldn’t allow her baby to grow up with less than complete love and total security.

  Better to have two parents who both adored him but lived apart than to allow her child to endure a childhood like Danni’s.

  “I’m sorry, but this whole situation makes no sense.” She spoke with all the bluntness in her nature. “You can live in a separate house from us, and our child will still know you love him—all you need do is visit or take him for a night, or school breaks. I swear to you I won’t ever block your rights to him.”

  “It’s not enough.” His whole attention seemed absorbed in watching his thumb flicking in and out of a hand curled into a fist.

  “Why? Why are you pushing for all of this?” she asked, wondering how he made even such a small thing as moving a finger so enthralling; she couldn’t move her gaze from him. “I’m not under any illusions. I could have been any woman that night. You barely knew who I was. You know you don’t need to support me financially. You could walk and no one would blame you—”

  “You’re wrong.”

  She frowned. “No need to be chivalrous about it. Being a single parent really isn’t that big a deal these days—”

  The intensity of his hooded gaze stopped her words. “I knew it was you that night. All night, I knew it was you.”

  The
heat from his eyes, the force in those stark words, hit her over and over. It zinged between them, a cloud of everything he’d left unspoken…and the woman in her, ripened with the hormones of pregnancy, melting with memory of their one bittersweet night, and on high alert since the kiss they’d shared—ached with wanting. He hadn’t wanted just any woman that night, he’d wanted her. “Then why did you leave me like that?” she whispered.

  His gaze burned on her a moment longer, before he turned away with startling abruptness. “I had my reasons.” Knife-edged as the land outside in its harshness, his voice tore into her hopes and fears with a serrated edge.

  Four simple words, yet they were another door shutting in her face.

  But no matter how he tried to make her believe otherwise, he did want her. It wasn’t the heat, or the promise in his eyes as he’d said it; nothing so cliché, or so simple. No, it was history repeating, in a few intense words. The stark need in his voice, the ache inside his eyes told its story…and the heavy ripeness in the air between them. His desire for her hadn’t changed—even if he’d die rather than admit it.

  Another notch of violet darkness fell inside the barn, as if it were digitalized. Something inside Laila shifted, moving the romantic blinders from her eyes, revealing questions she’d barely known were there: the doubts had been there all along. You still want me, so why can’t this be real? What are you hiding from?

  As if he’d heard her silent questions, his jaw set. With the slanted line of cheekbone, hair like midnight, and strange, intense eyes that changed hue with every play of light and shadow, he seemed like a flint carving: cold, remote—and too compelling to walk away from.

  His voice, when it broke into her reverie, was flat and grim, without the dark, smoky music that haunted her dreams. “I still have my reasons, Laila.”

  Yet his gaze stayed on her mouth for a moment before lifting to her eyes; they were still lush and uncompromising at once, still needing. His hands curled into fists, as if he was making a physical effort not to touch her.