Bed of Roses
Page 33
“Mariposa!” she called to her pet, then proceeded down the street again with the cougar loping at her side.
Her destination came into view. Built of smooth, polished stones from the Sierras, the sheriff’s office looked professional and beautiful at once. And Zafiro especially liked all the rose bushes blooming in front of the jail- house. The bright and velvety flowers added just the right touch in her opinion.
She opened the door of the office and stepped inside.
There, sitting in his big leather chair with his son in his lap, sat the handsome sheriff of the town of La Escondida.
And she was married to him.
La Escondida had nothing to fear with Night Master as its sheriff.
“Zafiro,” Sawyer greeted her and gave her a warm smile. “There better not be any crimes being committed in La Escondida right now because this rascal won’t let me do my work.”
Zafiro looked at her son, Jaime Russell Ciro.
A secret smile touched her lips as she thought of the news she’d come to tell the sweet boy’s father.
“Mama, I locked Papa in the cell,” Jaime said proudly.
“Jaime,” Zafiro scolded gently. “How did you get out, Sawyer?”
Sawyer hugged his son. “I had to promise him a camping trip in the woods.”
Smiling, Zafiro approached the desk and leaned over to tousle Jaime’s mop of hair. “Sawyer, do I look like a cat with a bird in its stomach?”
He stared at her, knowing in his heart that no matter how many times he told her the correct way to use the expressions she loved so much, she would never learn. “A cat,” he mumbled, his mind working furiously as he tried to decipher her meaning. “Do you look like the cat that swallowed the canary?”
“Yes. That is—”
“What you said. Yes, of course it is. Now, come here. I’ve got two legs, you know.”
She walked around his desk and sat on his other knee, grinning when Jaime began to play with her sapphire. “I have a secret, Sawyer. I’ve come to tell you.”
Sawyer caressed her cheek, her chin, her neck, and her shoulder. It didn’t matter how many times he touched her, he never got enough of her. “What is this secret, sweetheart?”
She picked up his hand and laid it over her lower belly. “I am going to have another baby. Doctor Hernandez told me this morning.”
Sawyer frowned, then smiled, then laughed. “When?”
“In January.”
Two children, Sawyer thought. Unadulterated joy lit up his eyes as he pulled her down and embraced her. “Zafiro—”
“She will be a girl, Sawyer. I know it. And we will name her Mercy Carmelita Pilar Inez.”
The sound of the name jangled Sawyer’s mind, but he didn’t care. Whatever Zafiro wanted, he gave. “Wonderful name, sweetheart. I couldn’t have thought of a better one myself. Now, give me a kiss.”
She lifted her face to his and gloried in the feeling of his lips upon hers. And when at last his tender kiss ended and she looked into his wonderful gold eyes, she pondered all the many things he’d done for her.
La Escondida was a real town now, complete with every single thing she’d never had as a child. Sawyer had even provided a town gossip, a Senora Morales, who made it her duty to know everyone’s business and make sure the stories were thoroughly spread around town.
Living in the town with her magnificent husband and beautiful child had changed Zafiro’s way of thinking about her very existence in the world.
Not every day was perfect, of course. Problems arose every now and then, yes.
But Sawyer solved each and every trouble.
Her heart bursting with emotion, Zafiro kissed her husband again. And as the warmth of his love flowed into her, caressing every part of her, a beautiful thought occurred to her.
Life with Sawyer was truly a bed of roses.
The End
* * *
Read Chapter One of Rebecca Paisley’s delightful novel Moonlight and Magic
Look for Moonlight and Magic by Rebecca Paisley
Coming May 2015!
About the Author
Since her debut novel was published, bestselling author Rebecca Paisley has become known for creating her very own unique brand of magic on the page.
She decided early in her career to write the sort of books she wanted to read. Her determination earned her a slot on the Publishers Weekly bestseller list and the Romance Writer's of America Honor Roll. She's been a RITA finalist, won the Romantic Times’ “Lifetime Achievement Award” and “Career Achievement Award,” a Reviewers’ Choice Award for “Historical Romance Fantasy” and a “Best Love and Laughter” Award.
Rebecca currently lives in North Carolina with her menagerie of beloved pets, still believes in magic, and still relies on the “pixie voices in her head” to inspire her as she works on a brand new book.
Visit Rebecca’s website http://www.rebeccapaisley.net
Join Rebecca on Facebook http://www.facebook.com/RebeccaPaisleyAuthor
Amber House Books by Rebecca Paisley
The Barefoot Bride
US and Worldwide
UK
Australia
Diamonds and Dreams
US and Worldwide
UK
Australia
A Basket of Wishes
US and Worldwide
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Heartstrings
US and Worldwide
UK
Australia
Bed of Roses
US and Worldwide
UK
Australia
Coming Soon
Moonlight and Magic (May 2015)
A Prince To Call My Own (June 2015)
Happily Forever After (July 2015)
Moonlight and Magic by Rebecca Paisley
Sneak Peek
What should a would-be enchantress do with her very own “knight in shining armor”?
Chimera’s bumbling attempts at witchcraft had only succeeded in conjuring up a reputation for lunacy. But when she sets a “werewolf trap”, she finally snares the one thing she’s been praying for—a handsome “knight” who can protect her from the ruthless land baron who has been lusting after her property.
It has not been a good day for Sterling Montoya. He had awakened next to a naked, screeching stranger, been chased across hostile Apache territory by her shotgun-toting father and had become the reluctant guardian for a newborn babe… And now he was the prisoner of a beautiful, but batty, would-be sorceress—a stunning, Shakespeare-spouting enchantress whose passionate touch promises Sterling heaven…until he realizes that whenever she’s around, all hell breaks loose.
Can Sterling break the tender spell Chimera casts over his hungry heart or will he discover her love is the one enchantment too magical to resist?
Chapter One
Eve invented troublemaking in the garden of Eden, and her daughters had been perfecting the art for centuries, Sterling thought as he urged his galloping stallion toward the thick grove of pinon trees ahead. Just beyond the trees were the foothills of the Dragoon Mountains. If he could reach them he could lose the posse following him. He didn’t much like being smack in the middle of Chiricahua Apache territory, but if he had to choose between fierce Indians and that overripe, scheming woman he’d found clinging to him in bed that morning, he’d choose the lesser of the two evils—the Indians.
Once in the dark thicket, he dodged low branches and skillfully guided his horse through the maze of pinons. He felt sure he would soon lose his hunters, but when he heard the men enter the forest, he whispered a string of profanities. The trees were too thick to race through, and any noise he made would alert the posse to his whereabouts. Damning all females, he halted his stallion and bade him remain still and quiet in the cool shadows.
“We can’t go any further, Otis,” he heard a man say.
“The hell we can’t!” another man, whom Sterling assumed was Otis, insisted vehemently.
“That hot-blooded buck ruined my daughter, and dammit, there’s gonna be a weddin’!”
“There’s gonna be a funeral if we don’t get outta here,” a third ventured. “We were crazy to follow that young fella this far into Cochise kingdom.”
“Yeah, Otis,” still another said. “We been chasin’ that Mexican for almost five hours already, and we ain’t caught him. I ain’t never seen a man ride like he does, and I ain’t never seen a horse as smart as that stallion neither. I swear that animal reads his master’s mind.”
“I was in the street this mornin’ when I heard the fella whistle from his room,” one man said. “That horse come flyin’ out from nowhere, and when he heard his master holler somethin’ in Spanish, he stopped right under that window. And when I saw the fella jump out and land right on the horse’s back…well, I had to grab the hitchin’ post to keep from fallin’ down.”
“He’s led us on a merry chase, that’s for sure, but wadin’ in quicksand over hell would be safer than followin’ him into the foothills,” the first man warned. “Cochise—”
“But—”
“Otis, if a nice little chitchat with them Apache is what you got a hankerin’ for, stay,” another man cut in. “But we’re leavin’. Martha throws herself at anything that wears pants, and I reckon when she set eyes on that handsome young buck, she’d have done anything to get him.”
“Now see here!” Otis yelled. “My sweet, innocent Martha—”
“Maybe he was tellin’ the truth when he told you he’d never seen her before,” one of the men ventured. “With looks like he’s got, what the hell would he set his sights on Martha for? It ain’t that Martha’s ugly, Otis, but she ain’t no young thing. That fella could have lured any one of the younger gals into his bed.”
“Yeah, Otis,” another agreed. “It’s real fatherly of you to try and get him for her, but it’s likely Martha snuck into his room, got nekkid, joined him in bed, and then started hollerin’ just like that fella swore she done. She’s desperate for a man, Otis. And when females get desperate, even them Mexicans start lookin’ good to ’em.”
“Especially one who looks like that one,” another added.
“If you all believe that ruttin’ bastard’s lies, then why’d you join up with me in chasin’ him?” Otis demanded.
“It’s Sunday, Otis,” one man explained. “And what man’s missis ain’t gonna drag him to hear that visitin’ Reverend Fire and Brimstone carry on and on? A manhunt’s a helluva lot more eye-openin’. And catchin’ a man who rides like that young fella does…it was a challenge too great to resist. But we’ve gotta turn back now. Cochise’ll probably get him anyway. He don’t stand no chance out here, and—”
The sharp crack of a brittle twig broke off all conversation. There was a moment of silence, then one man whispered, “It’s that young fella…or Cochise.”
Sterling’s tense body relaxed when he heard his hunters’ horses thunder out of the woods. “Pendejos,” he cursed to his stallion. “Martha, they said her name was. All of a sudden there she was, Gus, lying beside me and wearing nothing but her wrinkled skin. Que cabrona! I didn’t even have time to figure out what she was doing before her father burst into the room, shotgun in hand.
“If you hadn’t come so quick, Gus, I’d be a married man by now. Tied down forever to some conniving female.” Anger boiled. He yanked his hat off and swabbed his forehead with the back of his hand. “Dammit, Gus,” he swore, and began leading the stallion deeper into the forest. “How many times has this happened since we left las monjitas, the good sisters?”
Gus whickered.
“Ha! Don’t let those nuns fool you, Gus. Kind as they are, beneath those black and white penguin costumes they’re all female, and they’re no less manipulative than women who wear necklaces instead of rosary beads.”
Yes, the sisters had their own special wiles, he recalled, and they’d used them to get him to rebuild almost every confounded building at the orphanage before he’d finally escaped.
Then he’d come into intimate contact with the lay women. Their wiles were infinitely more agreeable than the sober sisters’, nor did they want him for the back-breaking work for which the nuns needed him. Their interest was of a completely different nature. But it didn’t matter who or what they were, all women brought trouble.
And the problems he had with them had started early in his life. Along with his first real whisker had also appeared his uncommon effect upon the fair sex. As he’d approached full manhood, his unusual appeal grew stronger, right along with his body, and in the ten years he’d been away from the orphanage it had become a rare magic.
But though he adored women and enjoyed indulging in the pleasurable benefits of his sensual sorcery—giving as well as receiving—his magic was often a curse too.
“The young girls scheme to get me to the altar, Gus,” he fumed, and swatted a branch. “The more experienced women scheme to get me into their beds. The elderly matrons scheme by spoiling me to death, which, of course, works to shame me into giving them what they want. And Gus, they all want something.”
He reined his horse to a halt, sighed, and dragged his fingers through his hair. He attracted women, but he knew full well it was only his sensual magic that inspired their fascination. It so bewitched them, they didn’t bother with what lay beneath his outer charm. And they didn’t bother to show him what lay beneath their outer charms either.
It made him feel empty. Oh, he was a master at hiding the emptiness, and though no one else suspected its existence, he couldn’t hide it from himself. It was as if there was a big, hungry void inside him, and it sometimes made him feel as though he was nothing more than a worker of sensual magic.
And unless he reached Tucson it would always be so, he reminded himself, and urged Gus into a smart trot. He had vital business with a certain woman there, and the thought of her lifted his spirits. He had every hope she’d be different than other women. Initially, she would fall for his magic, of course, and he had every intention of being as charming as he knew how. But after she’d succumbed to it, she’d see the emptiness that lay beneath it. She was the one person who could fill it, his last and only hope.
He’d spent almost eighteen years in the orphanage dreaming of his fantasy about her. Then he’d left and spent ten more years chasing it, looking for her, never finding either. He’d given up after that and returned to the orphanage to visit Father Tom, the American priest who’d helped raise him.
Father Tom had put the key to the dream into his hands. The fantasy he’d been seeking his entire life, the woman he’d dreamed of finding one day, was in Tucson. Father Tom had actually seen her there. He, Sterling, was on his way there now, and dammit, nothing, no one was going to prevent him from getting there! “Tucson, boy,” he told his horse. “Get me there, and do it fast. As fast—”
A sound came from ahead, stopping his words. He knew it wasn’t the posse; it was long gone. He listened intently, his every nerve tense, while he waited to hear the noise again. When he did, he realized it was a human voice.
Even worse, it was a female voice. He remembered the kind of morning he’d already had because of a woman, and every instinct roared for him to turn and leave right then and there. He reined Gus to the right, fully intending to disappear before the woman in the woods saw him, liked him, and tried to make him stay.
But before she saw him, he saw her.
She was an Indian, and because of his location he knew her to be Chiricahua Apache. She caught sight of him and staggered toward him. He dismounted immediately, his annoyance at women forgotten in the face of her obvious suffering.
She was doubled over, bleeding profusely from a chest wound, each step she took apparently causing her tremendous pain. When Sterling reached her, she collapsed in his arms. Gently, he laid her on the ground, his eyes widening with consternation.
“Oh, hell! You’re pregnant!” He sat back on his haunches and drew his hands away from her. “Who did this to you?”
He touched the stab wound near her left breast. “Who did this?”
She didn’t answer. He knew she couldn’t understand him. But he didn’t really need an answer. White men had done this horrible thing. Cochise had been plaguing this area around the Chiricahua and Dragoon Mountains forever, or so it seemed. It stood to reason that white men had attacked and left this girl for dead out of revenge for whatever Cochise had recently done. Many settlers frequently resorted to this sort of vengeful violence. Sterling was sickened by it all.
“Vamanos,” he whispered down to her. “Somehow we’ve got to find a doctor who hates human suffering worse than he does Apaches.” He began to pick her up, but she groaned and clawed at his arms, her eyes beseeching him to leave her on the ground. “I’m only trying to help you, miss. A doctor—”
Her actions silenced him. His open mouth popped closed when she gripped her belly and bore down. “No!” he shouted. “Dammit, lady, if you don’t stop pushing like that, you’re going to send your baby sailing over the mountaintops!”
His own statement made him gasp. Baby? Here? Now?
This was not happening! He rose and turned to leave. He’d never delivered anything newborn and damned if he was going to start learning with a human. He started back toward Gus. He’d heard Indian women knew how to do this sort of thing by themselves and didn’t need men around, which suited him just fine.
But before he reached Gus, he stopped and pondered the situation. This Indian woman was injured badly. She might not even live long enough to give birth. And even if she did, she was in no shape to care for the babe.
He turned slowly and saw she was on her hands and knees, crawling toward a tree. When she reached it, she pulled the bottom of her buckskin skirt up to her mouth and kept it hiked up by holding it between her teeth. Still on her knees, she hugged the tree trunk and groaned, her face tight with exertion.