WARRIOR'S BABY

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  "I'll find a way to make it possible. I've got plenty of imagination." And too damn much pride. The idea came to him as an alternative to admitting outright that he'd been wrong. He couldn't just walk up to her and say, "I'm an idiot. Will you marry me?" If he surprised her with secret wedding plans, she'd simply forget he'd been acting like a fool. Besides Melanie loved surprises. And he owed her something special, something uniquely romantic—the gift of all gifts. Immediately his mind soared into overdrive. He'd have to trick her at first, but later, when she learned the truth, she'd fall into his arms. Hold him close. Kiss him. Cry tears of joy. He wouldn't even have to hang his head and apologize. The surprise would be apology enough.

  Colt's mind drifted into images of the future: laughter at dawn, family picnics at noon, fairy tales at bedtime. And midnight lovemaking, he thought, under a starry Montana sky.

  "Look," he said, hoping to make Shorty understand the importance of his plan. "The only way I'm going to be able to pull this off is if you and the Carnegies help me. I need you to come through on this one, Shorty."

  "I'll do what you ask. You and that little gal should have been married months ago."

  After Colt left Shorty's cabin, he increased his strides, telling himself not to run. He felt like the vibrant, wild-eyed teenager he had once been. His life, though, had changed, and he'd learned plenty in the process. This time the bad boy of Mountain Bluff intended to marry the right girl—the auburn-haired beauty from California.

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  « ^ »

  In the beginning of her second trimester, Melanie decided dawn was her favorite time of day. No longer a victim of morning sickness, she rose bright and early every day to help Colt work with the new foal. Recently Colt's civil behavior had worked its way back into friendship. She knew he still waged a private war, though. He loved her, but refused to say it. And he wanted her, too. The platonic hugs they shared never failed to quicken his pulse or glaze his eyes. On more than one occasion, he had nuzzled her neck and "accidentally" pressed his chest against her distended nipples. She, in turn, would "accidentally" brush his arousal with an errant hand. Desire played like an erotic game between them, one neither had yet to verbalize.

  Melanie turned her attention back to the foal. The youngster had one of those long, registered names, but she called him Bam-Bam because, for a little guy, he was exceptionally strong and prone to stomping his hoofs and rattling the ground.

  Instead of participating with Bam-Bam at first, Melanie would observe Colt and how carefully he approached the young animal, gradually earning its trust. She noticed Colt had restrained the feisty foal by cupping one arm around its neck and the other around its rump. He had explained that if you try to restrain a young horse by holding its head, they tend to rear backward.

  The next step had been fitting Bam-Bam with a head collar, then teaching him to lead by pushing him from behind. She had also learned how important it was for a foal to get used to having its feet handled, something little Bam-Bam hadn't taken kindly to. It had been during one of these sessions that he had earned his nickname.

  "When will he be weaned?" she asked as they secured the foal and its mother in their stable.

  Colt removed Bam-Bam's head collar, and the little one nudged the cowboy playfully. "When he's about five months old."

  As they walked to Colt's office for their usual hot chocolate break, Melanie tugged on her denim jacket and tried not to think about herself months from now, waddling around in snow. She already missed California's sunny climate.

  While sipping the warm brew, she let Colt in on the latest news. "Gloria and Fred are going to renew their wedding vows. Isn't that romantic?"

  He sucked a melting marshmallow into his mouth. "Sounds like a waste of time and money to me. They're already married. Why would they want to do it again?"

  "Because they're in love," she snapped back, wishing Colt were more like Fred. The anniversary-wedding ceremony had been Fred's idea. The Carnegies' anniversary was later in the season, but they had decided to schedule the ceremony before the snows set in. "Gloria asked me to be her maid of honor."

  Colt rolled his eyes. "You mean they're going to go through that baloney all over again? Bridesmaids and all that nonsense?"

  She glared at him. "Their kids are really excited about it. The twins, Sandy and Sarah, are going to be flower girls, and Joey will carry the rings. The older girls will be bridesmaids and the other boys ushers. And since Shorty has become like a grandfather to Joey, Gloria asked him to walk her down the aisle."

  Colt burst out laughing. "Shorty? Our Shorty?"

  Melanie slammed her cup down. "I fail to see what's so funny about Shorty participating in a wedding."

  "Sorry." Colt waved his hand in front of his face. "Somehow I just can't picture him in a monkey suit."

  She leaned in close and poked his chest with her finger. Colt's flippant attitude about something as sacred as a wedding boiled her blood. "Well, picture yourself in one, mister, because Fred wants you to be his best man."

  Colt shook his head. "Tell him thanks but no thanks. I'm not interested in going anywhere near an altar when there's a wedding in progress."

  "I can't tell him that." Melanie was at her wit's end. She had hoped this event would inspire Colt to move forward in their relationship, to quit pretending the love between them didn't exist. "You're going to be Fred's best man whether you like it or not. And later this week, we're going shopping with Gloria. I need to pick out a dress and you have to get fitted for a tux. All the other men have already ordered theirs."

  "When is this wedding?" he asked with a sour expression.

  "In three weeks. It was sort of a last-minute idea. And Shorty, by the way, has been very helpful in planning it. He even suggested your house for the reception."

  Sarcasm sharpened Colt's voice. "Well, wasn't that thoughtful of him."

  "Yes it was." Melanie lifted her nose in the air. "Shorty's a very generous man."

  "Yeah, with somebody else's house," he mumbled.

  "I thought it was a wonderful idea. This ranch is a perfect place for a reception. Besides, Fred and Gloria are our best friends. We owe them this."

  Colt lifted his legs onto the desktop and folded his arms behind his head, looking too arrogant for his own good. At the moment Melanie wished she wasn't so madly in love with him. The man didn't have a romantic bone in his body.

  "What's this we stuff?" he asked. "You're talking like you and I are a couple."

  She touched the tiny mound in her tummy. "We made a baby as I recall. And you're just dying to get me back into bed." A move she knew he was close to making. "I'd say that makes us a couple."

  In typical male fashion, he zeroed in on the sex part. "What's lovemaking got to do with this?"

  She thrust her shoulders back and tilted her chin. "Nothing, I suppose. After all, you claim we're not a couple. And as a free agent, I think abstinence is best. There's no way I would consider resuming our sexual relationship at this point in time."

  His perfectly formed jaw went slack. "What kind of bull is that? For weeks you've been meowing after me like a Siamese in heat."

  "A Siamese in—" Melanie had the unholy urge to kick his chair out from under him. "Well, you've done a pretty fair imitation of a tomcat, you know."

  "Yeah. So, what's the problem?"

  You and your noncommittal attitude. "I just don't think it's appropriate for us to sleep together right now."

  "You don't, huh? Well, that's too bad." He dipped his hat and gazed at her through hungry eyes. "Because I planned on visiting you tonight, you know, with some Chinese takeout."

  Melanie ignored the all-too-familiar ache in her loins, the sexual pull. Chinese food had become their favorite aphrodisiac. Sweet-and-sour everything. "I'm not interested."

  "And just when will you be interested?"

  When you admit that you love me, you big lug. She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm too busy to think about it.
Coordinating a wedding is a big job." With that said, Melanie stalked out the door, leaving Colt with his mouth agape.

  * * *

  Colt nudged Gloria's shoulder when Melanie took a stack of satin and lace into the fitting room. "Now she refuses to sleep with me," he complained. "But I suppose she already told you that."

  Gloria chuckled as she studied a pink dress lined with a stiff, ruffled petticoat. "Mel has a stubborn streak, you know."

  "Yeah, but you don't have to look so amused by it." He didn't think being sexually rejected by the woman he intended to marry was the least bit funny, even if he had tricked her into believing he thought weddings were a waste of time. A man's sexual prowess was no joking matter, and Melanie had never shunned his advances before. Damn good thing this wedding surprise was about to unfold. His libido couldn't take much more.

  He grabbed the pastel dress out of Gloria's hand. "Pink clashes with Melanie's hair. I want her to wear off-white. Silk with those little pearls sewn on. Something slim fitting. I hate big, puffy dresses."

  She snagged the pink lace number back. "I was looking at this for me. And I already told Melanie to choose something in cream."

  Cream. Colt liked the sound of that.

  They both turned toward the three-way mirror when Melanie came out of the fitting room wearing a long-sleeved, high-necked Victorian-style gown.

  Colt wrinkled his nose. "You're all covered up."

  She ignored him. "What do you think, Gloria? I could pin my hair up." Melanie swept her hair into a loose knot on top of her head and held it there. Several fiery strands fell about her face.

  "It's very ladylike," Gloria said, jumping when Colt pinched her arm. "But it's probably too much dress for someone your size. Try something with less material."

  Melanie studied herself then dropped her hands. "I suppose you're right."

  When Melanie retreated, a tall, thin woman appeared. "May I help you?" she asked Gloria.

  "Yes," Gloria answered, apparently eager to explain the upcoming surprise.

  As the saleslady led Gloria through the boutique, Colt went back to the mirror to wait for Melanie. She came out wearing a satin dress trimmed with lace and little rhinestones and glanced around, apparently for Gloria. "Colt, why don't you go for a walk or something?"

  Not likely. He had plans for today, and they included the right dress. "You were there when I got fitted for that monkey suit, now I want to see what dress you're going to wear."

  "Why?" She ruffled the rhinestoned hem. "You think formal weddings are dumb."

  "Yeah, but since I got suckered into this, and I'll be walking down the aisle with the maid of honor, I want to be sure she's not wearing some stupid-looking dress." He lowered his voice. "And let me tell you, there are some ugly gowns in here. Hell, most of them are so big, they look like two women could fit into them."

  She gave his denim attire a haughty once-over. "And I suppose you're a fashion expert?"

  "No. But I know women's bodies, and yours looks better in something smooth and slinky."

  Their gazes locked in the mirror, and a soft blush colored her cheeks. Colt recognized the feminine glow. It came over her whenever she was aroused.

  "And you should put your hair up, kind of loose and messy, like you did a few minutes ago," he said, moistening his lips.

  She stared at his mouth, then flinched as though she'd been caught thinking something immoral. "I'll wear my hair however I feel like it," she snapped back at him, sounding like a bratty teenager.

  Angry as she was with him, he still thought she was adorable, even in the rhinestoned dress. Colt grabbed his hair. "I'm thinking of putting mine in a ponytail."

  "That's probably a good idea," she said, as though struggling to make polite conversation. "But I like your hair loose, too."

  He grinned. "Yeah. You like to run your hands thought it. And you like the way it feels on your—"

  "Colt!"

  He followed Melanie's sight to see Gloria and the saleslady coming their way.

  The clerk displayed four silk dresses on a nearby rack. "Would you like to try any of these, dear?"

  Melanie let out a soft, little gasp when she touched one of them. Colt and Gloria exchanged a knowing look. "Try it on, Mel," Gloria coaxed. "It's beautiful."

  "Do you think it's appropriate for the maid of honor during a day wedding?" Melanie asked the saleslady.

  "The ceremony is at three," Gloria chimed in quickly. "And we can wear whatever we want, Mel. After all, I've decided on pink since it's my best color."

  "Your friend is right," the other woman said. "Since this wedding is a renewal of vows, it's not necessary to adhere to tradition. And this dress would look lovely on you."

  Melanie grinned and snagged the gown greedily. "I'll be right out."

  Moments later, she emerged from the fitting room. A shiver tingled Colt's spine.

  The gown, elegant in its simplicity, was stunning against Melanie's honeyed complexion and fire-tinted hair. The silk slid down her lithe form like a river of cream. The sleeves and open neckline were delicately adorned with the tiny pearls Colt had requested.

  He smiled his approval, and the sales clerk knelt to adjust the hem line. "It will need some minor alterations," she said to Melanie. "But I think it's absolutely gorgeous on you."

  Gloria moved closer. "Me, too."

  "It is beautiful," Melanie said, then raised her arm and glanced at the tag. "Oh, my goodness. I can't spend this much on a dress I'll probably never wear again."

  Gloria looked over at Colt. Since the Carnegies struggled with a moderate income, Melanie had insisted on paying for her own dress, but neither Colt nor Gloria had thought the extravagant artist would balk at the price of a gown. Colt, of course was footing the entire wedding bill, but Melanie wasn't to be told. At least not yet.

  Colt chuckled. "Complaints from a woman who wears ostrich cowboy boots?"

  She touched the fabric reverently. "This costs more than my boots. Besides, I honestly don't think this dress is appropriate for the maid of honor. It looks more like a bridal gown."

  Colt and Gloria exchanged yet another glance. "I think this is my cue to leave," she told Colt quietly, then turned to Melanie, "I'm going to look around a bit more."

  When Gloria and the saleslady disappeared, Colt smiled. He had planned this moment to unfold just as it had. He wanted Melanie dressed in pearls and silk when he revealed his surprise.

  He stepped forward so his reflection shone beside hers in the mirror. "That dress is a bridal gown, Melanie. The upcoming wedding isn't Fred and Gloria's renewal of vows."

  In the mirror her bright blues eyes lifted to his. "What exactly are you saying, Colt?"

  Excited now, he rocked on his heels. "The next shop on my list is a jewelry store. I figured we could pick out the rings together." He smoothed his hair and studied her, anxious to see the tears that would soon glaze her eyes. "I'm asking you to be my wife, Melanie. That is, if you'll have me."

  Her eyes didn't tear. And instead of throwing her arms around him, she stood motionless. Was she in shock?

  "I'm sorry, Colt, but I can't marry you."

  Every ounce of air fled from his lungs as a maelstrom of emotions filled them. She had turned him down. He'd planned this wonderful surprise, and the woman carrying his child had just refused to marry him. The invitations had already been sent, the caterer contacted, flowers ordered. Colt locked his knees to keep them from buckling. He'd been so sure. So damn sure. "But it's what you've wanted from the beginning—"

  "No." She shook her head. "What I wanted was for you to fall in love with me. After that, I assumed marriage would be the next logical step. But you see, you've never told me that you love me. I've been waiting and waiting, but you've never said it." She fingered the tiny pearls on the neckline of the dress. "I can't marry a man who won't admit that he loves me."

  Colt cursed his stubborn pride—the pride that had kept him from saying what she needed to hear. Apparently a surpr
ise wedding wasn't nearly as romantic as those three simple words. He stepped up behind her, lowered his head near her shoulder and inhaled her soft, feminine scent.

  With his heart lodged in his throat, he slipped his hands around her waist, around the tiny mound where their baby slept. "I want you to know you're the first woman I've ever said this to."

  She looked up at their reflections in the mirror, and he smiled. She stood lithe and graceful in her silk dress while he wore a rough texture of denim. But even so, they appeared to fit perfectly together.

  Colt pressed his lips to her ear. "I love you, sweet Melanie." He turned to face her. "I love the color of your eyes, and the way your nose wiggles when you laugh. I love the shape of your body and the feel of your hair." He clasped both of her hands and watched her eyes turn watery. "I love the way you lift your chin when you're mad and try to hide your sniffles when you're sad."

  He realized he could go on forever and never say it all. "I want to marry you, Ms. Richards, because I love you and I want us to spend the rest of our lives together." He took a deep breath and continued. "And I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner. I should have apologized for the way I treated you before, but at first being in love scared me." He clutched her hands a little tighter. "It doesn't scare me anymore, though. I think loving you feels incredible."

  "Okay," she whispered through the tears trailing down her cheeks.

  He grinned. "Okay what?"

  "Okay, I'll marry you," she said, before she fell bonelessly into his waiting arms.

  * * *

  Melanie stood in the nursery, surrounded by the warmth of native wood and fuzzy toys. She moved toward the antique cradle and smiled. A thick, downy coverlet lay in the interior, a fur as primitive and beautiful as the cradle itself. Colt must have placed it there, knowing it belonged amid the old-fashioned charm. Many a child had slept in the tiny bed. Round, sweet babies from the century before. Babies born to pioneers and ranchers, men and women who had worked the heart of the land.

  She looked over at the second cradle, the Cheyenne cradle-board placed carefully upon a small table. It too had sheltered sleeping babes, children with soulful brown eyes and shining black hair. Cradleboards were often made by a family member or friend, then given to the expectant parents as an honored gift. Someone had taken great care to construct this one, she thought. They had decorated the hide with intricate patterns of tiny glass beads and added long strips of fringe to drain off the rain.