A Warrior’s Mission

by Rita Herron

“Would you do me the honor of being my bride?”

  Holly traced a fingernail over his mouth. “Yes. Under one condition.”

  “What?” Anything. He’d do anything for her.

  “You allow me and our son to take your name.”

  The name beads tingled, pride mushrooming in his chest. “I would be honored.”

  Thoughts of his ancestors crowded his mind. The pride of his people. The strength of their spirit. He would pass that on to his son, as Sky would to his own son one day.

  Then he took Holly in his arms, and made love to her all through the night, kissing away the pain of the other man’s touch forever as the sound of Holly’s sweet cry of release broke the early morning sky.

  And the lonely, dark emptiness that he had lived with all his life was suddenly filled with light.

  Chapter Six

  The next day, Holly and Night returned to the Langworthy mansion. This time, Holly intended to tell her father that she and Night were getting married. She didn’t care if he approved of her decision or not. It was time she stood up to him and asserted her independence.

  “Come on, we’re going to talk to Daddy together,” Holly said.

  Night nodded and gathered Schyler from the car seat, then they made their way into the house. Celia swooped around them, hugging Holly and the baby.

  “I can’t believe Carlton came after you.” Celia’s hands trembled as she pressed them against her cheeks. “I never dreamt he’d be so vindictive.”

  “It was awful,” Holly said. “Thanks to Night though, Schyler and I are fine.”

  Celia turned to Night and extended her hands to him. “I don’t know what to say, how to thank you, you’ve done so much for this family.”

  “Thanks are not needed, Mrs. Langworthy,” Night said in a gruff voice. “I would do anything to protect Holly and our son.”

  Celia nodded, then enveloped him in a hug, tears overflowing. “Still, you risked your life. If it weren’t for you, we might not have our daughter and grandson back at all.” Her voice broke and Holly swiped at her own eyes.

  Celia traced a finger over the baby’s cheek, her adoring grandmotherly gaze tugging at Holly’s heart. “Will you take him to the nursery, Mom, and ask Antonia to watch him for a few minutes, then meet us in the study,” Holly said. “Night and I have to talk to Dad, and you should be there, too.”

  “Certainly.” Celia cradled the baby in her arms, kissing his fingers. “We’re so glad you’re back, precious, so glad you and your mommy are safe.”

  Holly and Night walked to the study, then Holly knocked before they entered, her stomach in a knot. Her father looked pensive, one hand gripping a coffee cup as he stared into the fireplace. He didn’t bother to look up when they entered, but remained stiff, angled away from them. The familiar scent of wood polish and her father’s scotch permeated the air, reminding Holly of how safe she’d felt here with her father. How many times he’d placed her on his knee and told her stories by the fire.

  But she was grown now. She wanted her son’s father to share his own stories and life with her baby. And as much as she loved her father, she loved Night as well. She glanced at Night, taking solace in the calm way he held himself in check.

  “Father, we need to talk.”

  Samuel Langworthy nodded, then pivoted, his eyes cloudy with emotions. Celia breezed in the room, moved up beside him and took his arm.

  “I owe you both an apology,” Holly’s father said without preamble. “It seems I made a terrible mistake about Sanders. And…about you, Walker.”

  Holly’s throat closed at the anguish in her father’s tone.

  “I can’t tell you how I felt when I heard…what he almost to you, Holly.” He glanced back at the fire for a moment as if to compose himself. “To think I trusted that man.”

  “He obviously fooled a lot of people,” Night said, surprising Holly. “You had no way of knowing how bitter he was.”

  “He didn’t fool you,” Samuel said. “You had him figured out, didn’t you?”

  Night shrugged. “I sensed something was wrong. I thought that Sanders or Houghton might have been a conspirator in the kidnapping. They both had motives for wanting to hurt you.” He cast Holly a smile. “Of course, I had my own reasons for not liking Sanders.”

  Holly laced her fingers with Night’s. “Dad, I know you don’t want Night and me to be together, and I haven’t forgotten that you tried to bribe him to leave me, but we are getting married. We’re going to be a family and raise Schyler together.”

  Her father arched a brow at them in question. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, Sir, it is,” Night said. “We would like your blessing—”

  “And if I don’t give it?”

  “Samuel,” Celia said.

  He threw up a hand to stop her from interfering.

  Night cleared his throat, his voice steady but forceful. “If not, we’ll regret it, but it won’t stop us. I love your daughter, Mr. Langworthy, and I love the child we have together. I may not have the power of the Langworthy name to give him, but I will take care of them and love them as the pride of my people have taught me.”

  Holly’s heart burst with affection for her soon-to-be husband. But her stomach quivered when her father’s gaze locked with Night’s. Then her father strode toward them, and extended his hand.

  “You are a fine man, Walker. I was wrong about you, and when I’m wrong, I say it.” His gaze remained level. “I apologize for offering you money, but I had to know how you really felt about my baby girl.” His cheeks turned ruddy. “You’re a father now, I know you understand. A man would do anything to protect his family, especially his child.”

  A warm feeling filled Holly’s chest at Night’s forgiving smile.

  “Yes, Sir, I do. I suppose if I had been in your shoes, I might have done the same thing.” Night clasped his hand and shook it. “Live for the joy of the future, do not dwell on what is past. It is the Cheyenne way.”

  “It sounds like an adage we should all remember.” Holly’s father shook Night’s hand firmly. “Now, let me be the first to say, welcome to the Centennial family.”

  Holly thrust her chin into the air. “I’m going to be a Walker now. And so is our son.”

  “Sky Walker,” Celia said, drawing them all into a group hug. “That does have a special ring to it.”

  They all laughed, the promise of a Christmas wedding almost as exciting as baby Schyler’s homecoming.

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  IN SPITE of the fact that Holly’s parents had wanted her to have a big wedding, Holly and Night insisted on getting married in the gardens behind the Langworthy mansion. Even though it was cold outside, it seemed fitting to Holly that they take their wedding vows in the place where Night had first made love to her, the place where they had conceived their son. Besides, the light snow drifting down enhanced the Christmas colors, creating a romantic ambience that blended perfectly with the special family gathering.

  “You look beautiful, sweetheart.” Celia gave Holly a teary hug, then fluffed the tulle of her wedding veil. “I’m proud of you for going after what you want out of life.”

  Holly squeezed her mother’s hand. “I take after you, Mom. After all, we both know you run the show around here, not Daddy.”

  “Shh, don’t let the men hear you. You’ll give away my secret.” Celia laughed and Holly joined in.

  A very pregnant Marilyn, clad in a long burgundy velvet gown, joined them in Holly’s room. “Thanks for including me,” Marilyn said. “Especially since I’m about to pop.”

  “How could I have a wedding without my older sister as bridesmaid?” Holly said. “Besides, I want Schyler to be close to his baby cousin.”

  “I’d like that, too,” Marilyn said. “We wasted too many years not being friends.” They hugged, both dabbing at their eyes as they pulled away.

  Piano music signaled for them to take their places. Holly kissed her mother, then met her father at the top of the stairs. He looked rega
l in a dark tux, his smile dazzling. It was too bad his heart problems had cut his political career short. He would have made a great senator.

  “Are you ready, Princess?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  Her father pressed a kiss to her cheek, then held out his arm. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Now?” He began leading her down the staircase, trailing behind Marilyn.

  “Yes. I want to set up a special fund to raise money for the Native reservations in Colorado. I’ll focus on education—”

  “Have you discussed this with your future husband?” her father whispered.

  “Not yet. I wanted to run it by you first. After all, Daddy, look at all the Centennial family did to help make Colorado a state. The way I see it, we’re pioneers in leading the state, so why not do something for the Native Americans who first settled our country?”

  “Good grief, Holly. You should run for governor.”

  “Then you agree? Oh, thank you, Daddy. This means so much to me.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m serious about a political career. You can be very convincing.”

  Holly winked. “Maybe I will.” Then again, did she really want the spotlight, to always live with security surrounding her?

  T reached the bottom of the steps, and Holly smiled, her heart fluttering as she spotted the guests through the French doors. Together they strolled through the doors between the rows of red poinsettias flanking the aisle.

  Night looked magnificent in his dark suit with his jet black hair brushing his shoulders, his jaw set in a deep smile. Her mother stood holding Schyler and a small white satin pillow which held the rings and a surprise she had for Night. Conrad Burke, Marilyn’s fiancé and Night’s friend, was a groomsman.

  When they reached the gazebo, the preacher asked who was giving her away. Her father said, “Her mother and I,” then kissed her cheek and handed her over to Night.

  Night took her hand in his, and they stepped beneath sprays of mistletoe and roses that draped the gazebo, their hands wound together as they joined their hearts and souls.

  When it came time to exchange the rings, Schyler babbled Mama and Dada, earning a round of quiet laughter from their family and friends seated beneath a white tent in the garden.

  “I believe these two young folks have written their own vows.”

  Holly and Night nodded.

  Night took her hand and closed his eyes, murmuring a prayer in the language of the Plains Indians that touched Holly’s soul. Then he looked into her eyes. “My people believe that one should not live in the past, but live for the joy of the future. My joy began the day I met you, my Laughing Green Eyes.

  “As a boy, I knew only loneliness and darkness, the path between the white man’s world and my own an untraveled mystery. But you have shown me the way. You have given me light and love and a son to carry on that legacy. I promise to honor, to cherish, to protect and love you forever more.”

  Holly bit back tears, then they exchanged simple gold bands they’d bought as a symbol of their union. “You were my protector first, but a night of passion led us to love, then gave us a son. That one evening opened my eyes to the life I had only dreamed of before I met you. You are my Night of passion, my heart, my soul mate. Before I met you, life had no purpose, no meaning, but with you and our son, I have found the light that makes me whole. I promise to honor, to cherish and love you the rest of my life.”

  The preacher nodded.

  “There’s one more thing,” Holly said.

  Night quirked his mouth upward in question, but she simply smiled. This was her surprise.

  She gestured for her mother to step forward. Celia winked, and Holly slipped the surprise from the pocket of the pillow—a small necklace made of colorful stones carved into beads.

  She held them out to Night. “I had a Cheyenne woman make this for our son,” she began. “In the custom of Native tribes, I want him to wear a name bead necklace like his father. The pattern and color of the beads symbolize the Walker name.”

  Night gripped her fingers, emotions clouding his eyes. “Thank you so much.”

  Together they placed the beads around their baby’s neck, then Night said, “We give our son these beads as a symbol of our love and unity, and to indicate that he has now taken the name of his fer and grandfather before him.”

  Schyler cooed and laughed.

  “By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The preacher closed the Bible. “You may kiss the bride.”

  Night took her in his arms, and kissed her tenderly. Holly’s heart thumped wildly—another night of passion awaited her on her honeymoon night, and another and another…

  Epilogue

  All of the Colorado Confidential agents and their families had gathered at the Royal Flush for a special Christmas celebration. Since each of them had worked on the Langworthy baby kidnapping in some capacity, Schyler Langworthy Walker was the guest of honor.

  “I can’t believe this place was once a bordello.” Holly traced a finger over the rich, dark pine and red-velvet decor.

  “It still has the original old pine bar with bottle racks, the old mirror, brass fittings and cash register,” Night explained. He gestured toward the living area. “The living area used to be a stage.”

  “I love the spiraling staircase,” Holly said. “Especially that balcony at the top.”

  Night chuckled. “The ladies of the night used to wave to their gentlemen callers from there before descending to greet them.”

  Holly laughed. “I can just imagine the women in their colorful frocks.”

  Colleen tapped her crystal flute with a spoon to draw everyone’s attention. “I believe it’s time for a toast.”

  Dexter Jones, the ranch foreman, edged up next to Colleen, while Michael and his fiancée, Nicola Carson, joined them. Shawn Jameson and Kelley Stanton smiled from the other side of the bar. Ryan Benton held Helen Gettys to his side, love worn in both their eyes. Governor Joshua Langworthy clasped agent Fiona Clark’s hand in his. Conrad Burke and Holly’s sister also glowed with love and happiness. Everyone gathered in a semicircle, facing the portrait of Dora Wellesley, Colleen and Michael’s ancestress, hanging behind the bar. Wiley Longbottom, the head of the Colorado DPS, assumed the task of refilling everyone’s champagne glasses.

  Night pointed to another portrait, this one of the infamous and beautiful black-and-white paint horse named Silas, which had belonged to Chance Wellesley, Dora’s husband. “That’s my favorite portrait in the house. Silas was the reason Colleen decided to breed paint horses,” he whispered. “I have him to thank for my job.”

  Holly kissed her new husband’s cheek. “I can’t wait to watch you in action.”

  Colleen cleared her throat. “I’d like to propose a toast to my many times great grandfather and Dora’s father, Wild Bill Fitzpatrick, and to Charles and Dora Wellesley for the proud legacy they left us.”

  “Here, here,” Michael said, raising his glass.

  They clinked glasses and sipped champagne, the mood jovial. “And I’ to make one to our new governor, Joshua Langworthy,” Dex said.

  Marilyn stepped up to his side. “I second that.”

  A chorus of laughter echoed around the room as everyone joined in with their congratulations.

  “And to Con and Marilyn,” Wiley Longbottom said. “They’re going back to New Orleans to start another branch of the Confidential agency.”

  “As long as you promise to visit so we can get our kids to play together,” Holly said.

  Marilyn hugged her. “We’re only a flight away.”

  “One more toast,” Colleen said. “To the birth of our mare, Satin’s, black-and-white colt. We’re naming him Silas for Chance Wellesley’s horse.”

  Night clinked Holly’s glass with his and kissed her cheek, drawing her into a private corner. “And to my ancestor, North, who helped us come together.”

  Holly nodded and adde
d, “And to Miss Lily for trusting in love enough to take the leap.”

  Night wrapped his arms around her. They had so much to be thankful for this Christmas. “And to our son, Sky Walker.”

  They both laughed again when they realized the way the two names fit together. Holly kissed Sky’s forehead, grateful she’d had the courage to choose a name befitting a Cheyenne’s son. Schyler would always be blessed for having Night as a father, as she was blessed by having him as a husband.

  Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Rita Herron for her contribution to the COLORADO CONFIDENTIAL series.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-7852-7

  A WARRIOR’S MISSION

  Copyright © 2003 by Harlequin Books S.A.

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  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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  *The Hartwell Hope Chests

  †Nighthawk Island

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven