His Shotgun Proposal

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “You?” She shook her head. “I think I’m the one at fault here.”

  He started to contradict her, but stopped. “I don’t want to tell you what to think, or how you feel. I came here because I realized how unfair I’d been to you and I wanted to tell you I wish I could go back to that first day at the airport and start all over with you. I had no reason to believe you were lying. I was just so afraid that you didn’t, couldn’t, love me that I set out to put up high jumps you couldn’t possibly clear, so I’d be safe from disappointment. But that was wrong, Abbie. Wrong of me and wrong for me. I love you. I’ve been in love with you since the first moment I saw you. The fact that we’re going to have a child…well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little scared at the idea of becoming a father. But that doesn’t mean I won’t give it my best shot.” He stopped, swallowed a knot of emotion in his throat, then continued. “I love you, Abbie. Will you marry me?”

  She forgave him in the space of a heartbeat but wasn’t quite ready to tell him so. “You know, this is my second proposal—third, if you count Andy Perkins in first grade—and I’m wondering if they all have to be supervised.” She nodded at the cab, still sitting at the curb, the driver peering at them through the open window. “I’m beginning to think a marriage proposal is a spectator sport.”

  Mac glanced around, brought his gaze back to her. “I guess Andy proposed in front of the whole class?”

  “During the Christmas program, in fact, in front of practically the whole school and all the parents.”

  Mac frowned. “What did your brothers do to him?”

  “I don’t know. Probably scared the dickens out of him. Andy never talked to me again after that, although I think I remember some rather soulful stares.”

  “Maybe I should come inside and start this proposal business over again.”

  She stepped back. “Good idea.”

  But the moment he stepped over the threshold, Abbie didn’t give him a chance to propose. She didn’t even bother to shut the door. She simply went into his arms and lifted her face for his kiss. What difference did it make if the taxi driver was watching? She wouldn’t care if the whole world saw. She loved Mac and she was going to marry Mac. They were having a baby. And however this miracle had come about, she knew the truth had finally won out.

  A long time later, after the door was closed and locked, after their lips were swollen and warm with kisses, after their bodies had spoken of a future their voices had yet to claim, Mac knelt before her and said again, “I love you, Abbie. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes.”

  And her proud Arabian prince bowed his head against her hand and breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I know I don’t deserve this second chance, Abbie, but I will be grateful every day for the rest of my life that you gave it to me.”

  “You may regret it when my brothers drive us crazy with their interference. They’ll be doting uncles, I’m afraid.”

  “Even if they try to move in with us—which we will not allow—I promise you I will never regret this choice. You are my sun, my moon, my stars, and I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy.”

  “You did that, Mac, the moment I opened the front door.”

  He grinned. “I hate to even mention this, but we should probably call in and let everyone know we’re okay. Otherwise…”

  “…they’ll all be here by morning.” She ran her fingertips across his strong, handsome jaw. “I suppose we could call and tell them we’re on our way to Las Vegas and one of the wedding chapels there.”

  “We could. But if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to marry you at the little church in Bridle, in front of your family and mine. If that’s what you’d like, too.”

  Of course. The wedding should be there, in the beautiful hill country of Texas, where Mac had become the proud Texas sheikh he was at this moment, where their own child would grow up and become whoever she was meant to be. “I’d like that, Mac. I’d like that very much. And since our families have already gone to all the trouble of planning a wedding, we may as well show up for it, don’t you think?”

  “Wouldn’t you rather plan a wedding yourself?”

  She laughed, not caring a whit if someone else had decided what, when and where their wedding would be. “I think it’s a little late for me to worry about the small stuff. In a couple of months, I’ll have my hands full with your son or daughter. Believe me, the details of the wedding aren’t what I want to spend my energy on. I’d much rather spend my time honeymooning with my husband in the guest house by the lake.”

  His smile made her fall in love with him all over again. “A perfect plan, Miss Jones…soon to be Mrs. Coleman-El Jeved, or if you prefer, I’ll just call you Princess Abigail.”

  “Save the princess title for our daughter. I’ll just stay plain Abbie.”

  “Beautiful Abbie,” he corrected, teasing her lips with a soft kiss. “My beautiful, independent wife.”

  “First wife. And only wife. I’m afraid I must insist on your late father’s tradition of having no harem.”

  He grinned. “If you think I’m going to have time for any other women, you have greatly exaggerated my potential as a husband.”

  “It’s true, I’m planning to keep you very busy.” She paused, feeling humbled and yet empowered by his love. “Have you noticed how full of plans I am, all of a sudden?”

  He kissed her nose and stood. Extending a hand, he pulled her to her feet. “But if you don’t focus your organizational skills on getting us back to Texas by tomorrow morning, we’re going to miss our own wedding.”

  “Consider it done, my love. Consider it done.”

  THE CHURCH WAS A GARDEN of fresh flowers and shimmering candles. Jessica, Serena and Hannah were in dresses of a lavender hue and carried bouquets of yellow and pink roses as they walked down the aisle. Mac, with Cade, Alex and Nick Grayson beside him, stood at the front of the long aisle, dressed in black jeans, black boots, white shirt, tuxedo coat and tie. The chimes of the organ sounded out the beginning of “The Wedding March” and the doors opened to reveal Abbie, dressed in flowing, high-waisted ivory satin, on her father’s arm.

  Mac hadn’t expected the flood of emotion that filled him at that moment, but he knew it was right and good. From this day forward, he would place his trust and faith in Abbie and they would build a home and a life together. Their children would be born, knowing that despite a rocky beginning, they had been conceived in a love that was meant to be.

  As Abbie reached his side and they turned together to face each other, Mac reached for her hand.

  And miracle of miracles, she gave it to him.

  THE RECEPTION LASTED even after the bride and groom had retreated to the guest house, where they planned to stay until—and this was given as a direct warning—they decided to come out. Abbie had said goodbye to her brothers, promised she’d report to them the moment her labor began, spent a little quality time with her parents and kept her hand in Mac’s the entire time.

  Randy had never seen his nephew so happy and marveled at the turn of events that had shifted all their lives in the past year. It had been quite a year for the Colemans. Rose was back with them, reunited with him and Vi and with her three sons. They’d had three weddings in six months. Within the next few months, there’d be the birth of Mac and Abbie’s baby, then Vi’s and Jessica’s mutual birthday. Savannah was doing a great job getting the details of that surprise together. Then sometime early next year, Hannah and Alex would have their twins and there would be three babies to carry the Coleman-El Jeved legacy into another generation. Who knew what other events might come to pass in this ongoing cycle of living? Randy was enjoying this wild rush into the future, even as he wished he might slow it down a bit and have a little more time to enjoy events, like his nephew’s wedding. He looked around, noted the crowd was thinning, the food nearly gone, and he decided he’d grab two glasses and a bottle of champagne and see if he couldn’t persuade Vi to join him
in a private toast.

  “Hey, Dad.” Jessie walked up behind him. “Jared Grayson is looking for you. Says he needs to warn you about something. Maybe he’s decided to disown his worthless son and wants to give you a heads-up.”

  “Jessie,” Randy said, weary with his daughter’s determination to dislike Nick, who was—in Randy’s view—a remarkable and extremely likable young man. “If you keep saying stuff like that about Nick, I’m going to have to start thinking it’s because you have a secret passion for him.”

  She choked on a broccoli bite, glared at him, her mismatched eyes equally perturbed by his comment. “As if that would happen if he was the only man left on this planet,” she snapped, and marched indignantly off to tell someone else how much she disliked Nick Grayson.

  Randy smiled at the thought that it would take a man like Nick to handle Jessie. But then, as he saw Jared approaching, the smile changed to that of pleasure in a long-standing friendship. “I’m so glad you and Nick made it for the wedding,” he said. “Means a lot to me and Vi. Rose, too, but she probably told you that herself.”

  “She did,” Jared agreed. “Beautiful wedding. And a baby coming soon. The Desert Rose enterprise is growing by leaps and bounds. Which is what I wanted to tell you. Just before Nick and I left Dallas, I received a call from a reporter at the Dallas Morning News. Seems there’s a rumor afloat that Balahar royalty—I’m taking that to mean King Zak and his son, Crown Prince Sharif—are making a secret trip to Texas to look at the Desert Rose stock. I figured we’d have some flare-up of nosy reporters the first few times King Zak came to visit Serena, but from the questions the reporter was asking, seems to me you need to be on the lookout for more reporters at the Desert Rose.”

  Randy sighed. They’d barely recovered from the last bunch of nosy newsmen and now it’d start all over again. The only reason no one had been here to cover the wedding today was because the whole thing had happened too fast for the papers to get wind of it. “Well, I wish they’d leave the boys alone, but I guess the idea of a story about three princes raised to be Texas sheikhs is just too great.”

  Jared laughed. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and some other unfortunate royalty will do something to snag the media’s attention. But come what may, Randy, we’ll weather the storm and Coleman-Grayson will head on into the future, which you know as well as I do, looks very bright.”

  Randy nodded. “It does indeed, Jared. It does, indeed.”

  ABBIE TRAILED KISSES from her husband’s lips to his bare chest, then nestled against him amidst the tangled sheets. Her naked body cupped his with utter contentment and a happiness still too new to feel entirely real. But Mac was real. As were the soft, fluttery kicks of their baby in her womb. The last time she and Mac had shared this bed in the guest house, none of this had seemed possible. What a difference a day made.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” he said, his voice a throaty vibration under her cheek.

  “I was just thinking how happy I am to be here with you. We may have done this somewhat backward, but the important thing is that we ended up at the right place.”

  He traced her lips with a gentle fingertip. “Not ended, Abbie. Begun. We’re beginning at exactly the right place. For you, for me and for our baby.”

  “I guess it’s true, then,” she said, smiling as he gathered her closer into the solid shelter of his arms. “Real love stories never have endings, only a lifetime of happily ever afters.”

  “A lifetime,” he agreed, kissing the top of her head. “And then some.”

  Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Karen Toller Whittenburg for her contribution to the TEXAS SHEIKHS series.

  Special thank-you to Arron Spradling of Flying “G” Equestrian Services, Lotsee, Oklahoma, for her expert advice on training Arabian horses.

  ISBN: 978-1-4603-6794-0

  HIS SHOTGUN PROPOSAL

  Copyright © 2001 by Harlequin Books S.A.

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  *The Magic Wedding Dress