Apache-Colton Series

by Janis Reams Hudson

“So what’s changed?” Matt demanded.

  A lot had changed, he admitted to himself. His father had offered to give the bride away if Serena would come home. But Serena didn’t know that.

  His heart started pounding. She didn’t know! She didn’t know his father would no longer object. Yet still she offered…offered what? To marry him? Not knowing things at home would be all right?

  He remembered Dani saying Serena should fight for him. Would she? Could he expect her to fight her own father and brother?

  Yes, damn it, he did expect it. He wanted it, craved it. He needed to know he was the most important person in her life, the way she was in his. If that was selfish and petty…

  What do you mean “if?”

  Still, he needed to know. “What’s changed?” he asked again.

  “I have.” Serena straightened her shoulders and, with insides shaking, met his look of challenge. “I have changed, Matt. I’ve realized what’s important to me and what’s not. Yes, I love my father and brother. But I love you, too. If you still feel the same, I swear to you I won’t let them come between us. Not ever again.”

  “Do you realize what you’re doing here?” he asked with a tug on the reins that she, too, held.

  Her heart thundered. “Yes.”

  He merely stood there, his eyes impossible to read, a muscle twitching along his jaw.

  Serena’s knees shook. “I know you haven’t asked me again, but this is my answer. I love you. If you’ll have me, I would be proud…” She had to stop and swallow past the lump in her throat. “I would be proud to be your wife. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for hurting you the way I have.”

  Unable to speak past the sudden mixture of love, fear, and euphoria in his chest, Matt closed his eyes. God, he wanted her, loved her. Needed her.

  But could he trust her?

  He felt her tug on the reins. He opened his eyes and met her gaze. A gaze that nearly took his breath away, so full of love was it. A shudder ripped through him.

  She tugged on the reins again, and they slipped from his fingers.

  Numb with the dreamlike quality of what was happening, Matt watched her lead his horse to a wickiup. She wrapped the ends of the reins around a supporting pole, then proceeded to strip the horse of its gear.

  A bony hand gave him a sturdy slap on the shoulder that nearly sent him staggering. Dee-O-Det cackled. “A husband should smile on his wedding night.”

  Matt took a deep breath and voiced his fear. “If I’m still a husband this time tomorrow, then I’ll smile.”

  The old man turned and left, trailing laughter in his wake.

  Matt didn’t watch him go. He couldn’t take his eyes off Serena. She carried his gear into the wickiup, then came out and started grooming his horse. The Apache maiden’s acceptance of a man’s marriage proposal.

  He swallowed. Hard.

  After rubbing down the horse, she pulled the reins from their anchor and led the gelding off into the darkness, in the direction of the stream.

  Matt didn’t realize he’d taken two steps to follow until he felt the tug on his shirt sleeve.

  “You mustn’t,” Nod-ah-Sti told him with a smile. “Have patience, Bear Killer, she will be back soon.”

  Would she? Or would she simply jump onto his horse’s back and ride out?

  Dee-O-Det returned and stood by his side. Matt held his breath and kept his gaze glued to the spot where his hopes had disappeared into the night.

  An eternity later, Serena reappeared with one arm cradling a bundle of hay, the other tugging the horse behind her.

  Matt felt some of the tension melt from his muscles. But only some.

  “Núuká,” Dee-O-Det said. Come.

  With a feeling of unreality, Matt followed the old man across the compound to where Serena had re-tied his horse. She turned toward them and stood waiting, eyes downcast, as was proper for a modest Chiricahua maiden.

  Matt fought the sudden grin that threatened. No maiden, this, he thought. And damn near the most unmodest female who could still rightfully call herself a lady. It was one of the things he loved most about her.

  The thought of love sobered him. Yes, he loved her. She said she loved him, too. She’d been saying it for weeks and weeks. The hell of it was, he knew she meant it. But would she stick with him this time, or end up ripping his soul to shreds?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Matt stood before her, searching her face for an answer, finding only those downcast eyes. With her face fully lit by the big fire, he noticed again the dark circles beneath them.

  “What is happening here,” Dee-O-Det said from beside Matt, “is right and proper for you to do. In the eyes of The People, you will now become man and wife.”

  Matt waited for the realization of her actions to sink in, to show on her face. Yet still, her gaze remained lowered. He wanted to see her eyes, damn it. He had to look into them and know, know she really meant it this time.

  “But for your mother,” Dee-O-Det continued wryly, “so she will not skin me alive and tack my hide to her door, you must have the words, you must have the scars. You white people do love your ceremonies. Núuká.”

  Side by side, but without looking at each other, without speaking, without touching, Matt and Serena followed Dee-O-Det past the central campfire to the huge log beside his wickiup. The dozen or so people around the fire, nearly a third of the entire population of the rancheria, quieted and stared.

  Matt barely noticed. He stopped beside Serena, before the shaman’s ceremonial log, and waited. Waited for Serena to change her mind. Waited for her to call a halt.

  Behind them, someone started a rhythm on a drum.

  Matt chanced a glance at Serena. Nothing but calm showed on her face. Those damned eyes still looked toward the ground.

  Dee-O-Det cleared his throat and drew Matt’s gaze, but not his attention. Matt was suddenly remembering the last time he had stood before this shaman’s ceremonial log. Serena had been there that time, too. But not at his side. That spot had been held by Angela. Eyes Like Summer Leaves, The People had called her.

  Would she understand Matt’s feelings for Serena? He searched his heart for that warm spot Angela still occupied, the spot that had been a yawning black hole of torture until Serena had taught him acceptance. For a moment, he panicked—he couldn’t find her.

  But should he even be searching for the comfort of his first wife when he was about to take a second?

  Then he felt it. Warmth. Comfort. Approval.

  Matt’s senses sharpened as the feelings enveloped him. Yet they didn’t surround only him, he realized. The love—Angela’s love—encircled them all. Matt, Serena, and Dee-O-Det. With a certainty that astounded him, Matt knew beyond a doubt that Angela, wherever she was, wholeheartedly approved of his union with Serena.

  He wondered if Serena knew, if she felt it, too. Or was she remembering the way she had stood at Angela’s side some ten years ago and translated the wedding ceremony for his bride? Did she remember that Pace had stood at his right hand that night?

  In comparison, tonight’s events must seem bleak to a young woman embarking on marriage. Angela had been clothed in fringed beaded doeskin as soft as butter, Matt in his finest buckskin. More than a hundred people had gathered to celebrate their union. A huge feast had followed.

  Tonight, however, Matt stood in dusty denims, his boots scuffed, shirt sweat-stained. Serena wore a plain skirt and blouse showing signs of wear. Most of the people in the compound were already rolled up in their blankets for the night.

  Did Rena feel the difference? Did it hurt her?

  Damn, but he wanted to see into her eyes.

  A sharp sting on the inside of his wrist jerked Matt’s attention. He looked down and realized he’d nearly daydreamed his way through the ceremony. The drumbeat had stopped. Sprinkles of sacred pollen dusted his sleeve. Dee-O-Det had already made the matching cuts in Matt’s and Serena’s wrists.

  Serena stared at the smal
l trickle of blood oozing from the shallow cut on her wrist, then the matching one on Matt’s. She couldn’t help but remember the last time she had seen this ceremony performed. Couldn’t help but notice the faint remains of Matt’s first wedding scar.

  Was he thinking of Angela, as she was? How could he not? Her presence was everywhere around them. But oddly—or, knowing Angela, not so odd after all—her presence comforted rather than saddened. Serena prayed Matt felt that comfort, too. She prayed he felt the rightness of what they were doing. She prayed…God, how she prayed he wouldn’t regret loving her.

  Dee-O-Det pressed Matt’s bleeding wrist over hers, forcing their blood to mingle, and bound them together with a strip of cloth. “You have two bodies,” he said, “but now only one blood. You are one.”

  The words sent Serena’s pulse racing.

  With a flourish, Dee-O-Det flipped the binding from their wrists. “Nzhú!” he cried. “It is good!”

  Matt ducked and followed Serena into the wickiup. The rawhide flap dropped into place behind him and sealed out the cheering well-wishers. A small fire in the center of the dirt floor sent an orange glow across his gear that lay next to Serena’s along the far side. To the right, their blankets, his and hers, covered a thick pile of hay.

  And Serena stood with her back to him.

  Matt felt the tension in his shoulders tighten, felt the blood pound in his loins. He clenched his fists at his sides. What were they doing, standing there like two strangers, silent, wary, not touching. Why wouldn’t she look at him?

  “Rena?”

  Slowly she turned, but her gaze remained lowered.

  “Damn it, look at me,” he cried.

  Serena flinched at the rawness in his voice and lost the struggle to keep her breathing slow and even. As she raised her gaze to his, her chest heaved.

  “I have one question,” he said.

  Serena nodded.

  “Do you mean to stay with me this time?”

  She heard the uncertainty, the vulnerability in his voice and nearly cried out. Oh, Matt, what have I done to you? Instead, she met his gaze and leveled her chin. “Yes. I mean to stay. I don’t blame you for not trusting me, but I’ll prove I mean it every day for the rest of my life.” She stepped toward him and placed her hand on his arm. “I swear it, Matt.”

  Matt jerked at her touch, unprepared for the sudden warmth of her trembling fingers through his shirt. But there was one more question he had to ask. “What changed your mind?”

  She dropped her hand from his arm and gave him a sad smile. “I’d like to say I simply got smart, but it wouldn’t be true. It took a little jabbing from our old friend out there,” she said with a nod toward camp.

  She was talking about Dee-O-Det, Matt knew. Defeat tasted sour on his tongue. She hadn’t decided on her own that they belonged together. The old man had probably stirred his ashes, listened to the wind, whatever he did to predict the future. Serena had needed a guarantee that things would work out for them.

  He didn’t know why that should bother him. She had apparently received whatever assurance she had needed. He should be satisfied with that.

  “He said something that made me realize what a fool I’d been,” Serena said.

  Matt didn’t know why he was holding back. It didn’t matter why she had changed her mind. She was here, they were married, and he loved her more than a man had a right to love a woman. Loved her more than was wise. “What did he say?” he asked.

  “He was surprised you hadn’t come with me, told me essentially I was an idiot. Of course, I already knew that. When I explained about the situation at home with Daddy and Pace, he said…he said it was a shame you weren’t worth fighting for.”

  Matt felt his heart leap behind his breastbone.

  “He was wrong, Matt. I was wrong. You are worth fighting for, and so am I. That was something else I realized last night. I’ve been too busy trying to take care of everyone else’s needs.”

  “Whose needs?” he asked, almost afraid to breathe.

  “Everyone’s,” she said. “Dad needed me to be his little girl, so I tried. Pace needed his sister. You…”

  “What was it you thought I needed?”

  “You needed home, family. Peace.”

  I needed you, he thought. But he said, “What about your needs?”

  She took a deep breath. “That’s what I asked myself last night. I thought I needed to make everyone else happy. I was wrong. If you can’t forgive me, if you don’t…trust me, I’ll understand. But I won’t stop loving you.”

  “What do you need?” he asked again. Say it, Rena, say it.

  “I need you. Just you. Always.”

  Relief, sweet and sharp, rushed through him. “God, Rena.” He held out his arms, and she was there, wrapping herself around him, trembling against him, whispering his name.

  He knew he was nearly crushing her, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to feel her pressed against him so hard, so close, nothing could ever come between them again. Fiercely, hungrily, he took her mouth with his, praying she would understand the need that shook him.

  Serena did understand his need, for it was the same as hers, to hold him tight, drink in the taste of him, feel his hardness against her.

  With their hands and mouths and bodies, they healed all the old hurts and built fires of longing that would not be denied. Heat raged, urgency rose.

  The shudder that shook Matt broke their lips apart. He buried his face in the crook of her neck. “I love you,” he whispered harshly. “I love you.”

  Frantic hands, his and hers, tore at clothing until flesh met flesh. Serena nearly cried out with sheer pleasure. The world spun, and it took her a moment to realize Matt had picked her up and carried her to the blankets. He half covered her with his body, and she felt the hardness of his need press against her thigh. She pressed back.

  Matt groaned. “Easy, easy,” he whispered. “I want you so much I’m ready to explode.”

  His words made her already pounding heart pound harder. “Then don’t wait.” She gripped his arousal and shifted until he lay between her legs, where she guided him home.

  Her touch destroyed his control. Matt sank into her welcoming warmth. She was so hot, so wet, so ready for him. He knew he must be dying. Dying from pleasure, dying from love. He didn’t care.

  Fire and rhythm took over. He thrust hard and fast, and she met him each time, taking all of him, giving all of herself, until the world exploded in sparks of light, red and gold and brilliant white.

  This time when Matt woke after a long night of loving to realize dawn had come, he wasn’t alone. Rena slept half draped across his chest, one leg thrown over his. He closed his eyes again. Thank you, God.

  She was here. She hadn’t left him. And deep in his heart and gut, he knew now, she never would. She was his, and he was hers, as surely as the sun rose and set.

  The slender fingers splayed across his chest flexed.

  Matt’s breath caught.

  The knee against his groin shifted.

  He hardened.

  She opened sleepy eyes and regarded him with seriousness.

  He ran his hand up and down the silken skin of her back. “What is it?”

  She lowered her gaze briefly. “Am I…forgiven?”

  “Ah, damn, Rena.” He wrapped both arms around her and held her tight. Didn’t she know by now? “There’s nothing to forgive, sweetheart. I love you.”

  “Does that mean…you trust me again?”

  He didn’t even have to think about it. “With my life.” With a forefinger to her chin, he made her look at him. “With my life.”

  They shared a long, slow kiss that tasted sweet and new, and grew hot and desperate so fast Matt felt his head spin.

  Rena broke away and smiled at him, a purely feminine smile that sent his pulse pounding low and hard. Her fingers roamed lower and lower down his chest, past his navel. He grinned. No one expected newlyweds to get up early anyway.

  It was thr
ee days before Matt and Serena could bring themselves to turn loose of each other long enough to dress, say their good-byes, and start for home, with Bonehead trailing along like a devoted puppy.

  Their last night in Mexico they camped near a running creek below a manzanita-covered ridge just south of Nogales. While Matt set up camp, Serena followed the game path through the greasewood and mesquite to the creek swollen fat with the August rains that hadn’t come until October.

  The day had been warm, but the night would be cool. Serena wanted to get a quick bath before the chill settled.

  She knelt beside the water and grinned. Who was she kidding? No night with Matt would ever be cool. One look from those gold-flecked brown eyes and her blood heated. She trembled with the knowledge that she could do the same to him.

  From the direction of camp, she heard a deep grumble. Startled, she froze. A few yards downstream, Bonehead jerked his face from the water and splashed awkwardly across the creek.

  Serena laughed. Matt and his damn bears. Bonehead wouldn’t go far. He was almost used to bears by now. Almost. This was the third one they’d encountered since leaving Pa-Gotzin-Kay. Serena shook her head and laughed again, picturing Matt shooing the bear from camp.

  Hurrying now, eager to get back to her husband—her husband—she splashed water on her face, then stripped to her underwear and washed as best she could in the muddy water.

  Halfway back to camp, she smelled the tangy smoke from Matt’s fire. He was burning mesquite roots. She was so hungry she could almost taste the flavor the pungent smoke would add to the rabbit Matt had killed an hour ago.

  She followed the path around a final stand of greasewood. “I swear,” she said, “I can already taste—”

  Her words ended in a strangled gasp. Her world reeled. Her heart clenched.

  “Well, well, if it ain’t little sister.”

  “Caleb!”

  He stood profiled against the red glow of sunset, his silhouette sharp and black and menacing. Serena felt her heart climb up to her throat. He’s supposed to be dead.

  Yet dead, he wasn’t. He stood with legs braced. One arm hung loosely at his side. The other stretched out to Matt. In that hand, Caleb Scott held Serena’s derringer pressed directly between Matt’s eyes.